Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 19C, September 11, 2016; The Rev. Pamela L. Werntz

O God Who loved us first, grant us the strength, the wisdom and the courage to seek always and everywhere after truth, come when it may, and cost what it will.

Our first scripture lesson this morning from Jeremiah, sounds to me like it could be a description of life in the 21^st century, even though it was written more than 26 centuries ago. The prophet Jeremiah is decrying the sins of those in leadership, the social injustice, the spiritual corruption, the war making that has devastated the land. Just before our passage begins, the priests and prophets have complained to God that God promised all would be well and it’s not. The Holy One delivers a scorching response: your own conduct and actions have brought this upon you – disaster follows disaster. In the verses that are omitted from our lectionary, God cries out in agony (actually it’s the word for childbirth labor pains). God cries out in labor pains that the leadership has broken Her heart with their flags and trumpets that lead people into war. Then God laments with a broken heart about the foolishness of people, skilled in doing evil, not knowing how to do good, making war instead of peace. It sounds like it could be a description of our life doesn’t it? – especially on this somber 15^th anniversary.

Surely the aching heart of God will be comforted by The Moral Day of Action – tomorrow, when, as part of a nation-wide event that will occur at more than 25 state capitols, the Higher Ground Moral Declaration will be delivered to governors and other elected officials by lay and ordained religious leaders. It has already been delivered to the Republican National Convention and the Democratic National Convention. The declaration clearly states that “inequality, poverty, voter suppression, environmental abuse, racism and xenophobia are immoral and unacceptable,” and that we desire peace, love and harmony within and among nations. Surely the aching heart of God will find a modicum of comfort. I hope you will sign the petition on line, [1] and get over to our State House on Beacon Hill tomorrow if you are able. I hope that this day of action becomes a habit, a pattern, an ongoing and growing insistence on respecting the dignity of every living being, because the heart of God is broken.

I was chatting on line with one of my daughters the other morning and I sighed and asked whether she had anything for me to put in my sermon. “Yes,” she replied, “say, ‘hey everyone. Stop being so dumb and annoying about stuff. Amen.’ ”

Shortest sermon ever. It’s a good one, but don’t get your hopes up that I’m finished!

If you only heard this passage from Jeremiah about the desolation to come, the mourning of the earth and the darkened sky, birds falling from the sky, the wrath of God, your heart would sink in despair. But if you bravely read Jeremiah as far as chapter 31, you would come to the beautiful promise of God for a new covenant, not written in the stars or the sky like the rainbow, not written in stone like the tablets given to Moses, but written on our hearts. Thus says the Holy One, “I will put my teaching within them and I will inscribe it on their hearts, then I will be their God, and they shall be my people…they will all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, says the Holy One, for I will forgive their iniquity and remember their sin no more.” I’m going to find them. I’m going to forgive them. I’m going to forget about their sin (sin, of course, is separation from God – or Love). I’m going to bring them home in Love, to Love, for Love.

In the brief pastoral letter to Timothy, written in the name of Paul, we hear a description of what it feels like to be separated from Love because of blasphemy, because of ignorance, because of violence, and yet, to experience the overflowing grace in the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus. I want you to notice that what saves the sinner are the faith and love that are in Jesus Christ, not the faith and love that are in the sinner. In this account it’s not the sinner who has to muster the faith and love; it’s seeing Jesus’ faith and love that saves the sinner. This reminds me of a poem I often turn to that is in Jane Redmont’s beautiful book, When in Doubt Sing. [2] (There’s such great advice for me in that title, because I’m usually in doubt and I love to sing.) The poem that is a trustworthy beacon of light for me is by the late feminist theologian Dorothee Soelle, and it’s the tenth of ten poems called “When He Came,” referring to Jesus, originally published in a book called Revolutionary Patience.

I don’t as they put it believe in god
but to him I cannot say no hard as I try
take a look at him in the garden
when his friends ran out on him
his face wet with fear
and with the spit of his enemies
him I have to believe
Him I can’t bear to abandon
to the great disregard for life
to the monotonous passing of millions of years
to the moronic rhythm of work leisure and work
to the boredom we fail to dispel
in cars in beds in stores

That’s how it is they say what do you want
uncertain and not uncritically
I subscribe to the other hypothesis
which is his story
that’s not how it is he said for god is
and he staked his life on this claim

Thinking about it I find
one can’t let him pay alone
for his hypothesis
so I believe him about
god
The way one believes another’s laughter
his tears
or marriage or no for an answer
that’s how you’ll learn to believe him about life
promised to all.

The Gospel of Luke tells about how Jesus staked his life on this claim of god, who, like a shepherd, like a woman, searches at considerable expense and considerable risk to find the lost, to find the life promised to all. Now if you have the ending of last week’s Gospel reading still poking you, this might be a little hard to hear. Jesus said to the large crowd traveling with him, “whoever does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes even life itself, cannot be my disciple….none of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions.” And that passage ends with “let anyone with ears to hear listen!” The next verse says, “Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen.” (It’s like the more Jesus tried to thin the crowd by asking them to count the cost of putting the realm of God first, the more he attracted undesirables.)

Lauren Winner notes that the parables that follow are not about the generic care of God; they are specifically about sinning (as being estranged or lost) and repenting (as being returned or found). [3] It’s interesting that the notorious sinners were listening, and the people well-known for their responsible or righteous living were grumbling (in other words, not listening). Reminds me of clergy gatherings! Mark Davis makes this observation about who is and is not listening to Jesus in his Greek translation blog, and then writes, “I wonder how different life would be if the primary complaint against the church was ‘they receive sinners and eat with them’?” [4] I thought, hey that IS the primary complaint against Emmanuel. That’s the complaint I most often hear anyway – from our residential neighbors, and from our virtual neighbors on line. (They don’t all complain, of course. Some of our neighbors are very happy we’re here; but when there’s a complaint, it’s about the people we welcome, or the eyesores or the noises that accompany them.) I can tell you how different life is when the complaint against the church is that we receive sinners and eat with them. It’s really different. It’s hard. It’s messy. It’s wild. It’s loud. It’s expensive. It’s risky. It’s sometimes even dangerous. And it’s good. It’s like heaven. It’s like the realm of God. The grace overflows. The grace spills out all over the place. Lives are being saved. Souls are being saved. (I think my soul is being saved and maybe yours is too.)

If you’re not feeling saved or found yet – just keep turning toward God – turn toward the voice of expansive Love that is calling you, searching for you, longing for you, whether you are one of two, or one of ten, or one of one hundred, or more. I’m here to tell you that you matter. You are being called. You are needed. You are being sought after. You belong to God. You are beloved by God. There will be joy in heaven (that is, the realm of God); there will be joy among the angels (that is, the messengers) of God when you allow yourself to be found, to be discovered, to be lifted up and carried, and to be celebrated home.

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