Sermon for March 24, 2019 - Lent 3 - The Rev'd Jeffrey W. Mello

Exodus 3:1-15; Psalm 63:1-8; 1 Corinthians 10:1-13; Luke 13:1-9

Paul writes to the church in Corinth:

“No testing has overtaken you that is not common to everyone. God is faithful, and [God] will not let you be tested beyond your strength, but with the testing [God] will also provide the way out so that you may be able to endure it.”

When most of us hear this passage from Paul, we hear the phrase, “God won’t give you more than you can handle.”  I don’t know if anyone has ever said that to you, but when they’ve said it to me, I’ve had to hold myself back if not physically, then at least mentally -- trying desperately not to let my words say what my mind was thinking.

It is, to my ears, a theological sheen on “buck up,” “suck it up,” or “I’ll give you something to cry about.”

Of course God doesn’t give me more than I can handle.  God doesn’t give me even slightly less than I can handle.

What causes me to reach the brink of my ability to handle isn’t what comes from God.  It’s what comes from the creatures God made -- my fellow humans.

So what does Paul mean in this passage?  A key to understanding Paul’s intent is to know that the word for “you” in this passage is not you singular.  It is you plural.

Paul is not writing about personal trials and tribulations, nor is he talking about personal aid or deliverance from God.  Paul’s “you” is plural. You, plural, are experiencing hardship and you, plural, will be okay because God will be with you, plural.  And God will always give you, plural, a way out so that you, plural, will be able to endure it.

The notion of individual challenges from God or individual rescuing by God is a relatively modern notion.

At the center of it all, challenge and rescue, is the central truth of our interconnectedness.  When we suffer, we are suffering together. When we come through our suffering, we come through together.

Jump back in time from Paul to Jesus teaching his followers.

What did those Galileans do wrong to end up providing the blood Pilate mixed with their sacrifices?  What did those who stood in the shadow of the tower in Siloam when it fell do to deserve such a fate?

Nothing.  They didn’t do anything.  That’s just not how God works.  

Hear this plain and quote this scripture whenever anyone suggests that suffering in this world -- disease, plague, a disaster of human or natural origin, whatever -- is God’s retribution for bad behavior.  Jesus couldn’t be any clearer.

What then, of the notion that unless the followers repented that they would perish just as those whose blood was spilled and those who were crushed by the tower did?

What Jesus is saying here is illustrated by the parable of the fig tree that follows.  Having waited for three years for it to bear fruit the owner is ready to cut it down. The gardner intercedes on its behalf and begs for another year.

Those who died at Pilate’s hand or by the tower falling were caught completely unaware.  They had no time to say goodbye, no time to do all the things they wanted to do, no bucket list to finish.  Most importantly and Jesus’ point is that they had no opportunity to live more intentionally and more fully into who God made them to be.

Jesus tells the crowd that unless they repent, they will perish in the very same way.  Without ever having made right what was wrong; in their lives, in the community, in the world.  

Jesus’ call for repentance isn’t meant as a talisman meant to keep bad things from happening to good people.  Jesus’ call to repentance is an invitation to not wait another day to do what is right; in our lives, in our communities, in our world.  

The fig tree gets another year.  Each day we wake up we are given another day.

How will we use the gift of each day we are given?  

This weekend has been, and continues to be, a rich and spiritually challenging one here at St. Paul’s.  

On Friday night, we gathered at Erin’s Plews-Ogan’s house for our Friday Night Lenten House Church.  Each Friday, we are discussing one of the gifts of the Spirit that Paul writes about in his letter to the Galatians.

Friday night, the gift we discussed was Peace.  It was a provocative and inspiring discussion of an overused and scarcely understood word:  Peace. Is it a state of being, or an action? Does it come from the outside in or the inside out?  In true Episcopal fashion, I left with more questions than answers.

Yesterday, a group gathered for our annual Lenten Quiet day which featured the showing of the documentary film, “Traces of the Trade.”  This film follows one woman’s journey to learn more about her family’s history as the largest slave-owning family in the history of the United States and its effect on her, her family, their hometown of Bristol, RI and beyond.

After the film, we were led in discussion by Constance Perry, an African American lay leader in our Diocese, and her husband Dain -- one of the members of the family featured in the film.

There were expressions of feeling anguished, challenged, ignorant and frustrated.  Rivers of tears flowed and righteous anger swelled.

This morning, we continued our conversation about Forgiveness.  Another overused and scarcely understood word. Is anyone beyond forgiveness?  Not according to Desmond Tutu. We have a choice to make every time we are hurt in ways big or small; to choose the path of retribution or forgiveness.

This morning after church, we will travel to visit the mosque in Wayland where our guest speakers back in February serve as lay leaders.  This trip was planned long before the events of Christchurch, NZ, but seems all the more critical now.

To be Christians entering the sacred space of our Muslim friends just two weeks after a self-identified Christian took the lives of 50 of their Muslim siblings feels humbling, to say the least.  That they will welcome us just two weeks later is nothing short of God’s Grace made manifest.

These are not light topics we are discussing.  These are not easy roads we are walking. On Tuesday last week, Elise, Andy, Pat and I wondered what we were thinking scheduling all of this on one weekend.

And then Saint Paul writes to me, “No testing has overtaken you that is not common to everyone. [God] is faithful, and [God] will not let you be tested beyond your strength, but with the testing God will also provide the way out so that you may be able to endure it.”  

You, plural.  

We can take a risk, we don’t have to play it safe because we do not have to do any of this alone.  You. Plural.

Ubuntu is a Nguni Bantu word from South Africa which is translated, “I am because you are.”  It is a call to an understanding of our shared humanity. You. Plural.

What Saint Paul, and Bishop Tutu and you and I know is that if we suffer, we do not suffer alone.  And if we have any chance of repentance, of peace, of forgiveness of reconciliation it is in understanding that anyone’s oppression oppresses us, anyone’s diminishment diminishes us.

We are less what God asks us to be when we treat anyone as less than what God made them to be.  

It feels like so much, we can be overwhelmed, and we can freeze in our tracks afraid to make the wrong next move, or worried that our next move won’t effect the scale of change the world desperately needs.  

You. Plural.

When we keep God in front of us, when we follow where Jesus leads us, no matter how scary, how unknown, no matter how small we feel compared to the work in front of us, we are assured that we will endure.  God longs to lead us out of where we are into where God made us to be.

I take great comfort in Moses’ story.  Not just because he is often a grumpy leader, but because he leads his people to the promised land without any promise he’ll get there himself.  And, he doesn’t. But he makes every year of those 40 in the desert count. He wakes every day to take the next step where God leads him.

The world in which we live can often feel like a raging fire against which we fight with a dixie cup of water.

To confront the powers of this world that oppress children of God is to stoke a fire meant to scare us into silence.

But God is a burning bush.  And that fire does not consume, but shines light on the people who wait in darkness for you to set them free.  

You.  Plural.

Fannie Lou Hamer, a Women’s and Voting Rights activist and Civil Rights leader said,

“You can pray until you faint, but unless you get up and try to do something, God is not going to put it in your lap. Sometimes it seems like to tell the truth today is to run the risk of being killed. But if I fall, I'll fall five feet four inches forward in the fight for freedom.”

May we live each day with enough courage and strength to fall even just five feet four inches further forward in the fight for God’s truth, God’s justice, God’s dream for this world.

You’ve got another day to do just that.

You. Plural.  

AMEN.  

© 2019 The Reverend Jeffrey W. Mello