![Picture](/uploads/5/3/1/4/53145165/published/ernte-in-der-prov-nce-jpeg-medium.jpg?1528913768)
Peter JB Carman
Emmanuel Friedens Church
Schenectady New York
Readings: I Samuel 8:4-20
II Corinthians 4:13-5:1
I.
Perhaps you remember from the Hebrew Bible the story of the child Samuel, who was given over to be raised in the care of the priest Eli, long long ago: Samuel, who in the early history of Israel heard a voice calling him as he lay next to the ark of the covenant; Samuel given a word from God—but a hard word—for Eli, whose sons had become corrupt and cheated the people, caring only for their own wealth and advancement.
And Samuel grew up, and like Eli before him, the people came to him to judge in matters of all sorts. Samuel grew up, and was good, and was wise, but it seems he had children of his own, children who like Eli’s, took advantage of their positions.
As Samuel grows old, the story begins to repeat itself, and even though the people love him, they long for something more, a different way of doing business. They want security; they want their little nation to have some more pomp and circumstance: in short, they want a royal ruler like all their neighbors have. They want a taste of that kind of power.
Then all the elders of Israel gathered together and came to Samuel at Ramah, and said to him, "You are old, and your sons do not follow in your ways; appoint for us, then, a king to govern us, like other nations."
There follows an interesting conversation, first between Samuel and God. God says basically, “Give ‘em what they ask for—it’s me they are rejecting, not you. But give them fair warning of what they are asking for, what the cost will be.”
So, Samuel goes, and he tells the elders of the people just what they are asking for—for the way of kings and emperors is not all it looks like. All that glitters…as they say. Samuel tells the people the price of adopting an authoritarian militaristic leader for themselves. Their daughters will be cooks in the royal kitchen and their sons will run in front of the chariots, their taxes will never go down and their best lands will be expropriated, and they will become slaves to a harsh new master.
Says Samuel: “And in that day you will cry out because of your king, whom you have chosen for yourselves; but the LORD will not answer you in that day." And the story continues: But the people refused to listen to the voice of Samuel; they said "No! but we are determined to have a king over us, so that we also may be like other nations, and that our king may govern us and go out before us and fight our battles."
And Samuel responds, more or less: “You asked for it, you got it….” All they are looking for is power—like their neighboring nations have it.
There is, it seems, nothing new in the desire to have some glorious monarch lording it over us. Humans seem to fall for it all the time. We want some mortal being whom we can prop up on a throne or a pedestal, in whose pseudo-god reflected glory we can bask, who will make us feel safe, who will tell us they have the answers to all our problems: fight our battles and provide the security we crave.
And how well is that working for us?
II.
It is easier to locate the power and the glory of things we see, than it is to be open to a power that is much more real, a glory that is much more solid, but is invisible. It is easier to grasp at the glistening value of markets and money than it is to perceive the light that emerges from within us or sense the spirit that rises up among us. It is easier to easier to cower before arbitrary actions of ruthless folk than insist on the Truth and Justice toward which the universe arcs, however gradually. And yet our faith insists that we cannot settle for “what our neighbors have.”
As followers of Jesus, we see as much immeasurable value in a little girl—the one being torn from her parents’ arms and being slapped in a detention camp in Brownsville, Texas-- as we do in the crown prince being raised in a high rise. As followers of Jesus, we proclaim that there is much potential for grace and wonder and glory in a child with a few learning disabilities in a public school in Schenectady as there is in the youth on long Island attending a fully funded school.
There is infinite value in every child, every youth, every adult, as a child of God. As a church, we recognize that value, we recognize that glory is found in things the world often chooses not to look at or see.
Revelation comes in strange and unexpected ways.
Each year our church honors a few high school seniors in local public schools. One honoree sent me an email this week that I feel sure they would not mind my sharing with you this morning, in response to this church’s honoring them through a modest scholarship recognizing the wonderful work they have done to make the world a little safer, a little more accepting, a little more humane, for people of every sexual orientation! “Thank you so, so much for the Dignity for All Award. It really means the world to me, more than I can express, that I've made such an impact as to be recognized in this way. I would love to meet you, Pastor Carman, and anyone else at your church. I'm so grateful to your church for having such a sense of pride, and for bringing your acceptance and celebration of LGBTQ people into your services….. I will be at the PRIDE Parade and Festival this Sunday, and would love to meet you at your booth and perhaps walk in the parade with you!!
We refuse to sell out and we refuse to give up, and we do not lose heart. In the words of the apostle Paul, we do insist, “…because we look not at what can be seen but at what cannot be seen. For what can be seen is temporary, but what cannot be seen is eternal.”
III.
My Quaker friends like to talk about being “centered” or even “centering down.” You and I live in times that seem calculated to pull us off center, disorient us from what is true and valuable and good. Surely, we need to center down, seek a spirit, open ourselves to an amazing grace, stop settling for lies, insist on integrity, open ourselves to mercy.
Perhaps we are living in times like those of Samuel, when ordinary people long for someone in shining armor to come along and fix it for them. Or perhaps it is the human condition in every time. Judge for yourself. And yet we decline to give up our conviction that there is a better reality, a better path.
Here is the good news. There is a God. A God who still believes in humanity. A God who can see what is going on, a God who gives power to the weak, comfort to the afflicted, binds up the wounds of the injured and oppressed.
There is a light that emerges from within, that lets us see what had been invisible, and cherish those who have been thrown aside. There is a living Spirit who has more power than all the kings and queens, presidents and potentates of this world. There is a glory with more weight than money and markets, more luminescence than all the stars in Hollywood.
If we look closely, this better, stronger, heavier, more glorious reality isn’t actually QUITE invisible. If we open ourselves to it, we find it moves us like an earthquake. This is the new creation of the One who made us, the redemption of the one who died for us, the shield of faith and the sword of love of one who will guard us and guide us, in fearful times, yea though we walk in the valley of the shadow….
Graphic: Gogh, Vincent van, 1853-1890. Harvest in Provence, from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville, TN.
http://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=55315 [retrieved June 13, 2018]. Original source: http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Ernte_in_der_Prov%C3%A9nce.jpeg.
Emmanuel Friedens Church
Schenectady New York
Readings: I Samuel 8:4-20
II Corinthians 4:13-5:1
I.
Perhaps you remember from the Hebrew Bible the story of the child Samuel, who was given over to be raised in the care of the priest Eli, long long ago: Samuel, who in the early history of Israel heard a voice calling him as he lay next to the ark of the covenant; Samuel given a word from God—but a hard word—for Eli, whose sons had become corrupt and cheated the people, caring only for their own wealth and advancement.
And Samuel grew up, and like Eli before him, the people came to him to judge in matters of all sorts. Samuel grew up, and was good, and was wise, but it seems he had children of his own, children who like Eli’s, took advantage of their positions.
As Samuel grows old, the story begins to repeat itself, and even though the people love him, they long for something more, a different way of doing business. They want security; they want their little nation to have some more pomp and circumstance: in short, they want a royal ruler like all their neighbors have. They want a taste of that kind of power.
Then all the elders of Israel gathered together and came to Samuel at Ramah, and said to him, "You are old, and your sons do not follow in your ways; appoint for us, then, a king to govern us, like other nations."
There follows an interesting conversation, first between Samuel and God. God says basically, “Give ‘em what they ask for—it’s me they are rejecting, not you. But give them fair warning of what they are asking for, what the cost will be.”
So, Samuel goes, and he tells the elders of the people just what they are asking for—for the way of kings and emperors is not all it looks like. All that glitters…as they say. Samuel tells the people the price of adopting an authoritarian militaristic leader for themselves. Their daughters will be cooks in the royal kitchen and their sons will run in front of the chariots, their taxes will never go down and their best lands will be expropriated, and they will become slaves to a harsh new master.
Says Samuel: “And in that day you will cry out because of your king, whom you have chosen for yourselves; but the LORD will not answer you in that day." And the story continues: But the people refused to listen to the voice of Samuel; they said "No! but we are determined to have a king over us, so that we also may be like other nations, and that our king may govern us and go out before us and fight our battles."
And Samuel responds, more or less: “You asked for it, you got it….” All they are looking for is power—like their neighboring nations have it.
There is, it seems, nothing new in the desire to have some glorious monarch lording it over us. Humans seem to fall for it all the time. We want some mortal being whom we can prop up on a throne or a pedestal, in whose pseudo-god reflected glory we can bask, who will make us feel safe, who will tell us they have the answers to all our problems: fight our battles and provide the security we crave.
And how well is that working for us?
II.
It is easier to locate the power and the glory of things we see, than it is to be open to a power that is much more real, a glory that is much more solid, but is invisible. It is easier to grasp at the glistening value of markets and money than it is to perceive the light that emerges from within us or sense the spirit that rises up among us. It is easier to easier to cower before arbitrary actions of ruthless folk than insist on the Truth and Justice toward which the universe arcs, however gradually. And yet our faith insists that we cannot settle for “what our neighbors have.”
As followers of Jesus, we see as much immeasurable value in a little girl—the one being torn from her parents’ arms and being slapped in a detention camp in Brownsville, Texas-- as we do in the crown prince being raised in a high rise. As followers of Jesus, we proclaim that there is much potential for grace and wonder and glory in a child with a few learning disabilities in a public school in Schenectady as there is in the youth on long Island attending a fully funded school.
There is infinite value in every child, every youth, every adult, as a child of God. As a church, we recognize that value, we recognize that glory is found in things the world often chooses not to look at or see.
Revelation comes in strange and unexpected ways.
Each year our church honors a few high school seniors in local public schools. One honoree sent me an email this week that I feel sure they would not mind my sharing with you this morning, in response to this church’s honoring them through a modest scholarship recognizing the wonderful work they have done to make the world a little safer, a little more accepting, a little more humane, for people of every sexual orientation! “Thank you so, so much for the Dignity for All Award. It really means the world to me, more than I can express, that I've made such an impact as to be recognized in this way. I would love to meet you, Pastor Carman, and anyone else at your church. I'm so grateful to your church for having such a sense of pride, and for bringing your acceptance and celebration of LGBTQ people into your services….. I will be at the PRIDE Parade and Festival this Sunday, and would love to meet you at your booth and perhaps walk in the parade with you!!
We refuse to sell out and we refuse to give up, and we do not lose heart. In the words of the apostle Paul, we do insist, “…because we look not at what can be seen but at what cannot be seen. For what can be seen is temporary, but what cannot be seen is eternal.”
III.
My Quaker friends like to talk about being “centered” or even “centering down.” You and I live in times that seem calculated to pull us off center, disorient us from what is true and valuable and good. Surely, we need to center down, seek a spirit, open ourselves to an amazing grace, stop settling for lies, insist on integrity, open ourselves to mercy.
Perhaps we are living in times like those of Samuel, when ordinary people long for someone in shining armor to come along and fix it for them. Or perhaps it is the human condition in every time. Judge for yourself. And yet we decline to give up our conviction that there is a better reality, a better path.
Here is the good news. There is a God. A God who still believes in humanity. A God who can see what is going on, a God who gives power to the weak, comfort to the afflicted, binds up the wounds of the injured and oppressed.
There is a light that emerges from within, that lets us see what had been invisible, and cherish those who have been thrown aside. There is a living Spirit who has more power than all the kings and queens, presidents and potentates of this world. There is a glory with more weight than money and markets, more luminescence than all the stars in Hollywood.
If we look closely, this better, stronger, heavier, more glorious reality isn’t actually QUITE invisible. If we open ourselves to it, we find it moves us like an earthquake. This is the new creation of the One who made us, the redemption of the one who died for us, the shield of faith and the sword of love of one who will guard us and guide us, in fearful times, yea though we walk in the valley of the shadow….
Graphic: Gogh, Vincent van, 1853-1890. Harvest in Provence, from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville, TN.
http://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=55315 [retrieved June 13, 2018]. Original source: http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Ernte_in_der_Prov%C3%A9nce.jpeg.