Sermon preached by Anne M. Watkins - Associate for New Member Ministry
St. Paul’s on the Green, Norwalk, Connecticut
11th Sunday after Pentecost, August 12, 2007
Be present in our mouth and in our ears that Your word may be both spoken and heard, O God, Creator, Redeemer, Sustainer. Amen
In 1998, Peter Barton[i] was 47 years old. By his own admission, he was not a religious man. He did not describe himself as a particularly spiritual man either. Peter Barton probably did not talk to God regularly, if at all and so it is likely that he never heard God say to him anything close to “Do not be afraid, I am your shield. Your reward shall be very great.” as did our ancestor, Abram. He did, however, value life to a certain extent. For the most part, he took care of his health; watched his diet and cholesterol, exercised regularly, didn’t smoke – because he had learned as a thirteen-year old that young men can have heart attacks – and short lives. His father did at age 45; his grandfather had done likewise. In spite of, or perhaps because of all that, he was driven to work hard, fast and long – a self-described Type A personality.
Peter Barton took care of his own reward. He was a successful businessman, driven by prudence and some fear at having watched from a near vantage point what lack of financial planning and resources meant for a young widow and her children. So as an adult, Peter played a significant role in charting the waters of several major cable networks, amassed a more than comfortable fortune along the way and retired when he was 46. He was in love with his wife and three children, aged 11, 9 and 7. At the end of 1998, Peter had a stomachache that lasted a little longer than he thought necessary. His doctor told him that his indigestion had another name – stomach cancer. He could have been the rich fool in the parable we heard last week who built bigger barns to hold his worldly fortune only to have his life cut short; only to find out that worldly fortune matters not a fig if it distracts you into neglecting your relationship with God. He could have been that rich fool, except that Peter’s motivation was not based on greed as much as on pragmatism and his decision to retire at a young age had all to do with his desire to deepen his relationship with his wife and children and to spend more time serving the boards of socially responsible businesses and non-profits.
Abram – later known to us as Abraham, the patriarch of Judaism, Christianity and Islam – was not distracted into neglecting his relationship with God. On the contrary, Abram exemplifies a certain completeness of faith; and living in relationship with God. Remember all of Abram’s story of obedience and faithfulness – first, his leaving Ur, the land he knew and called home, to go to unknown lands on God’s instruction and promise they would be his to possess. This is Abram, who was also promised the impossible gift of children – heirs – impossible, given his and Sarai’s ages. And today’s passage is not the first time God declares his promise of heirs more numerous than the stars. As we look at this straightforward exchange, what I invite us to notice is just that – how straightforward it is. Abram offers God complete honesty – a relationship unencumbered. Abram is totally honest in this exchange in giving voice to despair and longing: for an heir and the immortality that offers – and in giving voice to hopes, his wildest dreams – for an heir and the immortality that offers. It is the story of a relationship so honest and unencumbered that Abram can argue and challenge God against destroying the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah. And, in spite of going into land that Abram has not yet possessed as his own and having not yet fathered an heir, the story tells us that Abram continued to believe God’s promises and that belief; that faith is what allows him to heed God’s command that he not be afraid and what accounts him as a righteous man. A prime example in a long line of examples that scripture offers.
Peter Barton did not describe himself as a religious man, yet in some measure, we might add him to that long line of examples. Not because he possessed the same unwavering faith of Abram, but that he was willing to move in that direction. Peter developed the ability to live a somewhat similar faithful life – to hold fear at bay, to put his trust into something unknown and bigger than himself and to live a lot more closely to the example of Abraham – with hope in the future and the conviction of promises made. Peter Barton developed the ability to heed Jesus’ invitation to “be not afraid” and adopt the formula given to us for faithful discipleship.
Accepting Jesus’ assertion – his promise that God desires us; that God wants to give us every good thing; that the kingdom of God is a gift waiting to be received guides us into a way of living that offers freedom from undue anxiety and worry – what we often call fear – and demands we pay attention to the present, always standing at the ready.
It was as radical a concept for marginalized Jews and fledgling Christians in 1st century Palestine as it was for Peter Barton in 20th century America – a radical departure from the way he used to live. “Business,” he said, “requires us to think always in the future. Not just toward the future, but in the future.” A business man or woman is supposed to anticipate upcoming trends so that the proper adjustments can be made and the company can prosper. To think only in the present is to be way behind the success curve. I suspect many of us can relate to that.
We might rightfully see Abram’s obedience and faith in promises and a future not yet realized as a clear example to eschew the past so that it does not weigh us down or hold us back. We might also see Jesus’ formula for faithful discipleship as presenting a certain dichotomy between living in the present and the – not always irresponsible – practice we have of looking toward the future. Remember Peter Barton and think of your own experience – to eschew thoughts of the future is to put ourselves way behind the success curve.
We recognize that firsthand in our own community. Where would we be, after all, if our leadership here at St. Paul’s had not looked into the future, living there for a time in order to understand and take the necessary action to secure our tower, this very structure we call our spiritual home? Where would we be had they not gone to the future and secured our signature music programs by anticipating the need for our organ’s renovation?
A favorite preacher that some of us like to read and quote is Episcopal priest, Barbara Brown Taylor. She speaks of this dichotomy between present and future in this way: “…the future … is the closet where I stow all my good intentions about the people in my life whom I am going to treat better one day real soon. …any moment now I am going to have time to do the things I have always meant to do and say the things I have always meant to say, … In the meantime, this vision of the future gets me off the hook today. I can even fool myself into believing that my splendid intentions make me a better person right now, and that time will forever expand to meet my needs.”
I suspect that you and are I are not unlike Mother Taylor and could make the same confession. My list includes things like being more disciplined in my prayer life, managing my time better, reconnecting with friends with whom I’ve lost touch, paying greater attention and giving more time to those who mean to the most to me. And the list goes on and on becoming frightfully, frighteningly long. Unconsciously, we are likely very good examples of what those 1st century Christians were becoming – believers in the return of Jesus, but increasingly coming to an understanding that it was not going to happen in the same immediate timeframe they had first thought.
A seminary professor challenged Brown Taylor’s class that the second coming of Christ was “an idea cooked up by some church father with only two fingers.” “The truth”, he said, “is that Christ comes again, and again, and again – that God has placed no limit on coming to the world, but is always on the way to us here and now. The only thing we are required to do is to notice: to watch, to keep our eyes peeled.”
And here’s where that dichotomy is stripped of some of its mystery. The mystery and gift of living our lives in the present is that it forms days filled with an attentiveness that is at the heart of God’s injunction to Abram and Jesus’ instruction to his disciples to be not afraid. Attentiveness and presence rebukes fear and keeps it at bay because it keeps us so focused on what is; not what might or might not be. The irony – the continued gift – is that living with that kind of presence turns into weeks, months and years – a string of days lived in attentiveness to the moments and the places God is breaking into daily.
And that is what comprises a faithful journey. And, so – along with Peter Barton, and with Abram and a long line of faithful ancestors who offer us examples of faithful living, we can join them in believing in the promise of a future we cannot yet see and live wholly in the present as examples for those walking alongside us and for those following after us.
Finally, it is no accident that Abram, Peter and so many others’ stories are integral to our own discipleship. For that, too, is part of the promise of God’s kingdom. Lest we think that Abram’s or Peter’s stories are about individual faith, note to whom Jesus is speaking. It is not to any one individual; rather it is to a community of would-be faithful followers – to the whole flock, to the Church. The gift and comfort of the kingdom promised to us is the gift and comfort that it is not ours alone. It belongs to others; others who join us, each of us doing our part in remaining present to God’s in-breaking;
our part, sharing in being attuned and attentive to who is in and who is out;
our part, sharing in being attuned to who is hungry and who is well-fed;
attentive to who has the privilege and gifts of education and who is kept in ignorance and, hence, poverty.
present to all sorts of conditions and opportunities to share a part of what we have been given with those who are seeking the comfort and care of God.
The risks of living thus are also equally shared. I may be wary – and maybe properly so – of inviting a total stranger into my house when she knocks on my door and I am at home alone. But, that risk is stripped away when I have companions in faith – for we can assuredly and safely throw caution and fear to the wind, opening these doors wide for all to enter – knowing we have a whole community to attend to their needs – the radical outcome of Jesus’ radical proposal; a radical sense of hospitality and awareness that God’s-self breaks in and joins us in the faces, bodies, voices of guests.
I may be wary – and perhaps appropriately so – of giving away all of my possessions, but that risk is stripped away when I have companions in faith – each doing our fair share of offering back in charity some portion of God’s abundance handed over to our stewardship and care.
It is part and parcel of staying present to God’s gift; staying present to God’s promise to give us all that we need.
Our journey in the present keeps us rooted to the best examples of our past and moves us toward the best in anticipation of a coming future – not by focusing our attention in either place but by focusing our attention on what is – right now. We build a journey grounded in the assurance and understanding that the most important and precious moments we live are those we live now.
Each day, each moment precious in God’s unfolding kingdom;
each day precious in its own right;
each day a new beginning;
each day one where we open our closets to take out the lists we each compile;
for tomorrow is here and waiting to begin is a thing of the past.
Thanks be to God!
[i] Peter Barton’s story is told in his book, Not Fade Away: A Short Life Well-lived with co-author Laurence Shames. Published in hardcover, 2003 and in paperback, 2004 by Rodale Press.
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