This is from a sermon I preached five years ago this month. I just ran across it in looking through some old files. It struck me as remarkable appropriate for the present time, despite the obvious datedness of some references.
God
looks across the vastness of God’s own creation at what human beings
have made of it: what once was a luscious and verdant garden has become a
dark and desolate space devoid of life – and we might take note of the
fact that present-day Iraq is said by some to have been the home of the
Biblical Eden. Thus the righteous judgment of God is plain: I have
turned away and will not turn back. I will leave you to your own
devices. You have made yourselves destroyers of worlds, now live with
what you have destroyed. We can think of this on a geo-political scale
or on scales more local and personal – from international relations to
interpersonal relationships, from the betrayals of kings and presidents
to our own acts of betrayal.
That is the judgment of God: to grant us the freedom to dwell in the hells of our own creation.
And
perhaps the greatest sin of all is the choice that we make – over and
over and over again – to remain there. We make an idol of our present
pain and refuse to consider the possibility of a future otherwise. We
trust in surges of economic or military might and are blind to any other
power or possibility. Our myopia denies the gift of imagination that
God has given us, and, indeed, denies the very God who gives it.
In spite of all of that, God does not stop in judgment, but acts with love and mercy to invite creation into redemption.
Indeed,
the prophetic oracle to which Jeremiah responds appoints him not only
to “pluck up and pull down, to destroy and overthrow,” but also to
rebuild and to plant. The city – the polis – has failed by every measure
to live into the covenant community that God calls forth – the
community of compassion and celebration, the community of shared
suffering, shared burdens, yes; but also the city of shared wealth and
resources and harvest and celebration. The utter failure to live into
that vision – the vision of the commonwealth of the beloved – is the
occasion for the prophetic pronouncement of God’s judgment.
God’s
judgment is simply this: any city that fails to live into that promise,
that vision of authentic community – any city that fails that project
fails, plain and simple.
We live in just such a time; we live in just such a city; we live in just such failure; we stand under just such judgment.
Jeremiah’s words bear repeating:
“From
the least to the greatest of them, everyone is greedy for unjust gain;
and from prophet to priest, everyone deals falsely. They have treated
the wound of my people carelessly, saying ‘peace, peace,’ when there is
no peace. They acted shamefully, they committed abominations; yet they
were not ashamed, they did not know how to blush. Therefore they shall
fall among those who fall; at the time that I punish them, they shall be
overthrown, says the Lord” (Jer. 6:13-15).
Let
us say it plain, that the people may understand: from the least of us
to the greatest we pursue the outrageous gains of speculative markets;
we buy the i-thises and i-thats that, by their very names, underscore
the market’s utter disdain for authentic community; we strive mostly to
assure our own place on the ladder of success without blushing at the
fact that our incomes are 45 times or more the median global per capita
income and many more times more than that of the least of these our
sisters and brothers in the global commons; and we sit idly by while our
nation engages in wars fought to ensure that gap remains firmly in
place – all while our leaders promise us “peace, peace, and security,
security,” but there is neither peace nor security for we stand under
God’s judgment.
But
the story does not end in judgment. We are called, in the tradition of
Jeremiah, to imagine a future otherwise, to imagine a new Jerusalem and
to call it forth even at this late hour.
The
pivot point arrives for Jeremiah at the moment he realizes that
repentance is possible, that the present time may be redeemed and
transformed because the future belongs to God. “The days are surely
coming, says the Lord, when I will make a new covenant with the house of
Israel and the house of Judah.” When that day comes, “then shall the
young women rejoice in the dance, and the young men and the old shall be
merry. I will turn their mourning into joy.”
Why
such hope? How can such a promise be spoken in the midst of desolation?
Because the future belongs to God – “to the king of the ages, immortal,
invisible, the only God,” as Paul sings in doxology.
The
future belongs to the God made known to Christians in the one who welcomed the tax
collectors and sinners into his presence; the one who understood the
fundamental value of the least of his sisters and brothers in the
household of God; the one who knew that no measure of worth or
accomplishment or power or success makes anyone 45 times more valuable
than anybody else; the one who knew that no surge in violence could ever
bring peace in a world where some still champion economic and political
systems that define such vast disparities of wealth as the just results
of an invisible hand.
That very God calls us now to be quite visible counterweights on the scales of justice.
Our
pivot point has arrived. Even in the present darkness, the time for
light and more light has come. Repentance is possible and the present
time may be redeemed.
A day of atonement lies before us.
Now
the dictionary defines “atonement” as “reparation for an offense or
injury,” and a certain conservative orthodoxy holds that such reparation
was made through the sacrificial death of Jesus on the cross. I don’t
think much of that orthodoxy. I don’t like what it says about the
possibilities of human life, I am disgusted by what it suggests about
God, and I cannot abide the way it simply dismisses the life of Jesus as
mere prelude to his death.
But
I do like the word. I like the suggestion, imbedded in the word itself,
that we can be at one with God, that our purposes and God’s purposes
can come together in reconciling love.
That
possibility is the pivot point upon which Jeremiah’s prophetic vision
turns, and it can be the point upon which the present time turns as
well.
How
can I stand before you and make such a claim, given all I’ve just said
about unjust economies and unjustifiable war? How can I stand here
having laid out what can best be called the case of humanity’s fall, and
suggest that redemption is at hand?
No
logic can explain it, no calculus account for it, no economy comprehend
it. This is a moment that calls for that larger perspective I mentioned
at the beginning – a kingdom perspective.
For
if we are who we say we are – children of a loving God; and if we
believe what we say we believe about that God, then we must sing with
the psalmist,
”The Lord will reign forever, your God, O Zion, for all generations!”
The
reign of God announces a profoundly different kind of kingdom, not so
much about power as it is about covenant fidelity – about steadfast
faithfulness, about a Godly power that is concerned not with the
acquisition of more power but, instead, concerned first and foremost
precisely about the condition of those with no power. Imagine our rulers
putting such concerns first – imagine Republicans and Democrats
concerned not with who controls the Senate but with how the hungry are
to be fed, not with who will win the White House but with how the sick
are to be cared for, not with the culture wars of Red and Blue but with
how a just and lasting peace can be constructed. This is not to say that
there are no important differences between the parties, but it is to
call deeply into question their quite similar relationships to the
question of power.
That
same psalm that sings kingdom praises recalls the nature of God and of
God’s power, telling us that this God “keeps faith for ever, executes
justice for the oppressed, gives food to the hungry, sets the prisoners
free, opens the eyes of the blind, lifts up those who are bowed down,
loves the righteous, watches over the strangers, and upholds the orphan
and the widow.”
We
are called into relationship with this God. We are called to trust this
God before any princes and rulers, any Democrat or Republican, and even
and especially against the lure of so many socially constructed idols:
militarism, consumerism and every other “ism” that tempts us to put our
trust in something less than ultimate, something other than God. And we
are called to put first in our lives the same concerns as this God puts
first – precisely the concerns that all the false gods ignore or
belittle: justice, welcome of strangers, compassion for the outcast and
marginalized, shalom for all creation.
That
is how we become at one with God. That is how we mark a day of
atonement. That is how we live kingdom lives. That is how we claim for
ourselves the promise of Jesus that the kingdom of God is among us,
within us, here and now, in this very place at this very moment.
Trusting
that truth, then, I am able to say confidently that though
the wrong seems oft so strong, God is the ruler yet. And thus I trust
that though the arc of the moral universe is mighty long, it does bend
toward justice. Though the nations tremble under tumult of war, the time
of the prince of peace is at hand. The time for peace is at hand.
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
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