Sunday, March 2, 2008

Sermon 4 Lent - March 2, 2008

4 Lent A - 2 March 2008
1 Samuel 16:1-13; Ephesians 5: 8-14; John 9:1-41
James V. Stockton

Let’s be honest and admit it: if our journey through Lent shows us anything, it is that the ways of God are largely a mystery; and perhaps this is the way it should be. But at the same time it shows us that the simple fact that the ways of God differ from the ways of human beings is abundantly clear.

I read a little story. Arnold Palmer, the renowned professional golfer, once spoke at gathering to celebrate golfers who are disabled. After the ceremony, a man is introduced to Arnold as the top golfer of the group. Arnold is surprised because the man is blind. Together Arnold and the golfer who is blind go outside to the golf course. There the man explains how golf works for the visually disabled. “This really works?” asks Arnold. “It works very well!” says the man. “In fact, I’d like to challenge you to a round of golf.” Arnold is surprised, and wonders for a moment, will be fair for him to accept?

For good or bad, the ways of God, are the ways of the One who has dominion over all, who rules over all creation, who reigns in heaven and on earth. God’s ways are not the ways of human beings and this is abundantly clear. And the simple fact of the distinction, is important in its own right. When bad things happen to good people, as the saying goes, people want to know why it happened. Who is to blame for what happened that should not have? Who is to blame for what should have happened, but did not? It’s a very understandable way to approach the problem, and that’s how people can know that it is a very human way. In contrast, then, the way of God is a mystery. Yet that God’s way is different from the human way, this is abundantly clear.

From the earliest history of God’s people, they have found this to be exactly so. The very first king of Israel, was chosen by the will and the way of the people. He is King Saul and he turns out to be someone who repeatedly and deliberately contradicts the way of God. He offers not even the pretence of repentance and has no intention of turning back to God. The only way that God’s way will likely get through to him now is through those natural consequences that inevitably will weigh down upon him and upon anyone who ignores and resents the mystery of the way of God.

Though one might expect that a prophet of God will have a good understanding of God’s way. Yet even for Samuel, the fact that God’s ways are dramatically different from the ways of human beings becomes again abundantly clear. God tells Samuel to discern from among the sons of a man named Jesse a new king for God’s people. Predictably, I suppose, Samuel assumes that the new king is the eldest son of the father. The eldest has a lot of experience and presumably the wisdom that comes with it. For Samuel, he is the obvious choice.

But what is obvious to the human eye, to the human ear, to the human sense of things, is rarely related to the way of God. God’s vision goes deeper. Not the eldest son, nor the next, nor the next; God calls the least fit, the least prepared, the least expected. For Samuel, for Jesse, for his sons, for the new king David himself, God’s ways are a mystery. But the fact that God’s way is different from theirs, this is abundantly clear.

Last summer ECR was blessed to have a guest presenter Tom Snyder along with our own Ann Foxworth teaching our Adult Ed class. Tom is visually impaired; and he tells a story about an experience he once had when he spoke to a particular congregation about what it was like for him as a blind man in the fellowship of the Church. After his presentation Tom is meeting some of the lay leaders of the congregation. One of them asks Tom a question: “Mister,” the man says, “what did you do that made God decide to take away your sight?”

It’s basically the same question that the disciples ask in the Gospel reading for today. “What did this man do?” the disciples wonder. “What did you do?” the man asks Tom. I’m afraid this is not the time or place to pass along to you the answer that Tom gave in reply. Suffice it to say that Tom’s answer startled the man more than the man’s question startled Tom.

‘Who sinned,’ the disciples ask, that this man was born blind?’ It is a question rooted in the ways of human beings. Of course it’s God’s will that the man is blind. Of course the man’s misfortune is the result of the wrath of God. The way that they understand best is the human way of penalty and punishment. So, of course, they figure it so. The only question for them is: whom is God punishing, the man or his parents?

But God’s ways different from theirs. Ignoring the rules, Jesus labors on the Sabbath, making a salve of mud, and daring to heal on the day of rest. And in so doing, Jesus heals the man’s eyes, and more important he heals his heart as well. God’s ways open the eyes, the ears, the minds, the souls of people to whom others have gone blind and deaf, cold and willfully ignorant. God’s ways seek to convince all people of their own very real disability so that they may yet turn and come to perceive the way of God.

The golfer who is blind invites Arnold Palmer himself to a round of golf. “And,” he says, “I’ll bet you money that I beat you!” Challenged now, Arnold decides he must accept. “You asked for it,” Arnold says. “What time do we tee off?” “10:30” says the blind man. “10:30 tonight!”

Think for a moment: what are the ways of people around us? Think about it this week: what are your ways, what are mine, when we try to make sense of the misfortune of others, or of our own? Though people may not add God’s name to her misfortune, though we may not do so, either, yet there is for people, for us, an attraction to the notion that there is a kind of divine balance to the conditions of people around us, and to our own. It’s almost instinctive, isn’t it? Misfortune, disadvantage, and disability indicate that God has punished that person, those people; or that God has punished even you or me.

And Jesus comes to undo it all. As mysterious as it may be, the fact that the way of God is very different from the ways of us human beings is abundantly clear. And this is a blessing for which it is right to God thanks and praise. Yes, we bear responsibility for our actions; and yes, we bear responsibility for our failures to act. Yet, God knows that nearly every moment of every day, those around us, and you and I, really are doing just about the very best that we know how to do. God would like us to know this, too.

God sees what we see, hears what we hear, and knows what we know, assuming that we are able to admit it to ourselves. And it is that you’re a sinner, I’m a sinner, and the people around us are sinners, too. But is it really the way of God to punish you, to punish me, to punish those around us, even when we’re thinking that God should do exactly that? Or is it the way of God to reach past the obvious, and to be too busy loving you to punish you, loving me to punish me, loving those around us, and inviting us all of us to do exactly that?

If our journey through Lent shows us anything, it is that our way differs from God’s and God’s way from ours. It shows us that he way of God is for the way of God to find its way into your heart, your mind your soul, and mine. It shows us that the way of God is for the way of God to find its way through us into the world around us, that as more and more of us find the blessings of the way of God, more and more of us will find the way of God becoming abundantly clear.

And so may Almighty God, who bids us have no fear but the loss of Him, preserve us in His care, that no darkness of this mortal life may hide from us the light which is immortal, and which He has shown to us in Jesus Christ our Lord, who with the Father and the Holy Spirit, lives and reigns, One God, now and for ever. Amen.

© 2008, James V. Stockton

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