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Peter J.B. Carman
Schenectady New York
March 31, 2019
II Corinthians 5: 16-21
Luke 15: 1-3, 11b-32
Oh, to grace how great a debtor
daily I'm constrained to be!
Let thy goodness, like a fetter,
bind my wandering heart to thee:
prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
prone to leave the God I love;
here's my heart, O take and seal it;
seal it for thy courts above.
(from the hymn Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing, Robert Robinson)
I.
A young man stood on a street corner, guitar in hand, tired from playing his heart out. Next to him was a gifted fiddler, a young woman who could really play. The third musician with them was an older guy, jack of all trades, equally adept with a dulcimer, a fiddle, guitar or frailing banjo.
The hour had gotten late, and the crowds had never amounted to much. It was dark, quiet and starting to rain.
An elderly woman with a strange smile walked up to them, and at first, she seemed friendly; but then she turned venomous, began to rant and fume. "Why can't you get a job!" she said of a sudden, and she spat in their general direction, catching one of them on the cheek. "You're no good, get a job." Nobody knew what to say, they stood there in silence, and she walked away. He wiped his cheek off and wondered in silence.
Ok, it’s true, that guy with the guitar was me. It's a matter of perspective, I suppose. Are we no good? Or are we good enough? Good enough for our neighbors? Good enough for some stranger? Good enough for God? Who decides?
On a television show broadcast several years ago, I watched a Unitarian pastor tried to make the case for allowing same-sex couples the right to a civil marriage. This was back before things got sorted out in the courts and state laws—long time ago—well ok, not so long. I didn’t normally watch TV talk shows, but this one was of particular interest to a New York pastor who had been doing “commitment ceremonies” for almost a decade already.
It would have been a fine show if they just let the Unitarian make his case for equal marriage. I suppose in the name of fair reporting, or maybe upping ratings, the host had invited not one but two, two other pastors seated next to the first. Each one spoke of how the US was a Christian nation, how the bible was the foundational document of America and the bible only allowed heterosexual marriage between one man and one woman.
Now there I sat watching as they talked about the biblical. I grew up reading the same bible they did, and this viewer thought some of those polygamous patriarchs, particularly Solomon and David, might have been surprised by the prohibition they were placing on polygamy, but oh well, no one challenged the statement! And one self-appointed arbiter of righteousness went further, holding up a well-worn black leather volume, questioning what kind of minister his conversation partner could be, if he didn't take the bible as the only source of truth and the infallible and inerrant word of God. “Clearly you have never met a Unitarian before,” I thought.
The experience on TV that night was one I have shared more than once, although admittedly not in such a spotlight. I was reminded of the time that someone called me on the phone and did this interrogation thing to find out if the church I was serving was worthy of attending. She asked about women in the ministry. I was glad to share that we had women pastors in our denomination, and that we had since the 1890’s. I had married Lynn about a year earlier, I was married to a woman pastor. Didn’t lie or sugarcoat it.
The caller really got going then, accused me of being unbiblical for supporting women in the pulpit, warning of double damnation for false teachers, on the basis of some much-used passage in the New Testament. The sarcastic part of my spirit was saying, "What's two trips to hell if I have to go once?" But another part of my soul was crying, "God, am I good enough?"
I suppose it is a matter of perspective, whether we are good enough. And I already know that there’s someone somewhere, well a couple here and there actually, who feel assured I have a first ticket to …the other place. But Lord, have mercy; I don’t care so much anymore what they think: I want to know, are we good enough for God? Not if you ask some folks, no way. We are not. But I am convinced that God weighs in on the YES side. And here’s one reason why!
II.
Jesus started to catch flak from a group of the righteous and the holy of his day. On this occasion they were muttering and murmuring, because of his bad habit of hanging out with the tax collectors, and the other disreputable people of his times. Fact was, he didn't just talk to them, he ate with them. He had fellowship with them.
When he overheard the lawyers and the preachers griping about his habit of consorting with sinners, Jesus told a story. He told a story of two brothers and their father.
In the story, one brother talks his father out of his share of the inheritance while his father is still alive. He sells his part of the family farm and blows it all.". Then when he gets in trouble, after he runs out of cash, in desperation he comes back to his home, looking for mercy. He doesn't want much, just enough to live as a servant or slave in the household.
Dad pulls out all the good china, gets a live band, prepares a feast, and dresses his son in a festive robe. The child who was lost has come home! The one who was dead is alive. This parent doesn't raise a whole bunch of questions! He's just happy to have his child home.
The older son, the firstborn, the righteous one, is just plain resentful—and probably for good reason resentful. He boycotts the party, stands mutinously outside! He is mad at his father, just as much as at his brother. Here he is, been doing the right thing all these years. Beneath the anger we can taste anguish as well. Beneath the "He's no good" we can sense a little question lurking in the heart of the older brother: "Can I ever be good enough? Don't I rate your love? What do I have to do for you to love me?" Now let’s talk about that other brother! Because the parent’s love for that sibling I no less remarkable. Ever tried loving a resentful, self-righteous, insecure person? But this same householder goes out and listens to the complaints and insecurity of the hardworking first sibling. He doesn't give up on the righteous fearful one. The parent loves this one too, with the whole heart! A halfway decent parent has no choice.
And yet. Even the parent in this story, like every mother father or mentor, has questions—soul questions. For when a person SEEMS to take it all for granted, ditches us, abandons home, we find ourselves asking the hard questions-- we too must question in our souls, "Am I good enough? What did I do wrong?" And when a grown son or daughter looks at us in accusation and bewilderment and pain, accusing us of playing favorites, and never noticing the gifts, we ask again, "Where did I fall short? Am I good enough?"
Parents need forgiveness, parents also require patience, even parents can spit and go judgmental and sour. Parents too are prone to wander, parents require grace. Parents too need to be told, "You are good enough for God."
There are at least three parables tied into one: the parable of the prodigal, the parable of the resurrected father, the parable of the hurt older brother. But what ties all these three stories together is a profound question: How good is good enough? Who is good enough for God?
Even though God is never mentioned in the story, God is there looking on, with us, asking, "When will all of you get it? You are all good enough. From my perspective, you are good enough to work with, good enough to throw a party for, good enough to die for, good enough to love."
III.
We need to start looking at ourselves with both honesty and love! We cannot see ourselves through others’ judgment and need. We need to start taking to heart the love of God. We need to come home.
"God was in Jesus Christ," says Paul, "reconciling the world to Godself, not counting their trespasses against them and entrusting to us the message of reconciliation. So, we are ambassadors for Christ, God making God's appeal through us."
Will the day ever come when we can look through the eyes of love at the person who spews venom, and see a child of God? I mean, let's get real! Will the day ever come when we can respond to the person who has written us off as subhuman or subChristian, or subversive, and not write her off or him off?
It may seem impossible. And yet Christianity is not just some little game we play on Sunday mornings. We believe in the God who has a heart, the God of love. We trust in a God who knows what it means to lose a child, a God who knows what it means to hurt in the face of hatred and prejudice, a God who knows what it means to be spat at, a God who knows what it means to be dismissed or bypassed.
You and I are companions of Christ— and that means we can see with the eyes of Christ, and yes, even love with the heart of Christ. That’s where we find the courage to tell the truth, call out the abuse of power, embrace the untouchable, receive the stranger, love ourselves. We walk with Christ, even when we wander, friends of a messiah who couldn't abide self- righteousness, who couldn't abide exclusion, who couldn't stand pretense, who struggled all his life against judgmentalism, who was willing to die to overcome hatred.
So, have courage. Be bold. I hear that old church reformer Martin Luther once said that we should "sin boldly." But I say to you, Love boldly. Find the clarity and compassion to look around at all we meet with the eyes of love, with the eyes of Christ. And in the looking, may you find joy and redemption.
Schenectady New York
March 31, 2019
II Corinthians 5: 16-21
Luke 15: 1-3, 11b-32
Oh, to grace how great a debtor
daily I'm constrained to be!
Let thy goodness, like a fetter,
bind my wandering heart to thee:
prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
prone to leave the God I love;
here's my heart, O take and seal it;
seal it for thy courts above.
(from the hymn Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing, Robert Robinson)
I.
A young man stood on a street corner, guitar in hand, tired from playing his heart out. Next to him was a gifted fiddler, a young woman who could really play. The third musician with them was an older guy, jack of all trades, equally adept with a dulcimer, a fiddle, guitar or frailing banjo.
The hour had gotten late, and the crowds had never amounted to much. It was dark, quiet and starting to rain.
An elderly woman with a strange smile walked up to them, and at first, she seemed friendly; but then she turned venomous, began to rant and fume. "Why can't you get a job!" she said of a sudden, and she spat in their general direction, catching one of them on the cheek. "You're no good, get a job." Nobody knew what to say, they stood there in silence, and she walked away. He wiped his cheek off and wondered in silence.
Ok, it’s true, that guy with the guitar was me. It's a matter of perspective, I suppose. Are we no good? Or are we good enough? Good enough for our neighbors? Good enough for some stranger? Good enough for God? Who decides?
On a television show broadcast several years ago, I watched a Unitarian pastor tried to make the case for allowing same-sex couples the right to a civil marriage. This was back before things got sorted out in the courts and state laws—long time ago—well ok, not so long. I didn’t normally watch TV talk shows, but this one was of particular interest to a New York pastor who had been doing “commitment ceremonies” for almost a decade already.
It would have been a fine show if they just let the Unitarian make his case for equal marriage. I suppose in the name of fair reporting, or maybe upping ratings, the host had invited not one but two, two other pastors seated next to the first. Each one spoke of how the US was a Christian nation, how the bible was the foundational document of America and the bible only allowed heterosexual marriage between one man and one woman.
Now there I sat watching as they talked about the biblical. I grew up reading the same bible they did, and this viewer thought some of those polygamous patriarchs, particularly Solomon and David, might have been surprised by the prohibition they were placing on polygamy, but oh well, no one challenged the statement! And one self-appointed arbiter of righteousness went further, holding up a well-worn black leather volume, questioning what kind of minister his conversation partner could be, if he didn't take the bible as the only source of truth and the infallible and inerrant word of God. “Clearly you have never met a Unitarian before,” I thought.
The experience on TV that night was one I have shared more than once, although admittedly not in such a spotlight. I was reminded of the time that someone called me on the phone and did this interrogation thing to find out if the church I was serving was worthy of attending. She asked about women in the ministry. I was glad to share that we had women pastors in our denomination, and that we had since the 1890’s. I had married Lynn about a year earlier, I was married to a woman pastor. Didn’t lie or sugarcoat it.
The caller really got going then, accused me of being unbiblical for supporting women in the pulpit, warning of double damnation for false teachers, on the basis of some much-used passage in the New Testament. The sarcastic part of my spirit was saying, "What's two trips to hell if I have to go once?" But another part of my soul was crying, "God, am I good enough?"
I suppose it is a matter of perspective, whether we are good enough. And I already know that there’s someone somewhere, well a couple here and there actually, who feel assured I have a first ticket to …the other place. But Lord, have mercy; I don’t care so much anymore what they think: I want to know, are we good enough for God? Not if you ask some folks, no way. We are not. But I am convinced that God weighs in on the YES side. And here’s one reason why!
II.
Jesus started to catch flak from a group of the righteous and the holy of his day. On this occasion they were muttering and murmuring, because of his bad habit of hanging out with the tax collectors, and the other disreputable people of his times. Fact was, he didn't just talk to them, he ate with them. He had fellowship with them.
When he overheard the lawyers and the preachers griping about his habit of consorting with sinners, Jesus told a story. He told a story of two brothers and their father.
In the story, one brother talks his father out of his share of the inheritance while his father is still alive. He sells his part of the family farm and blows it all.". Then when he gets in trouble, after he runs out of cash, in desperation he comes back to his home, looking for mercy. He doesn't want much, just enough to live as a servant or slave in the household.
Dad pulls out all the good china, gets a live band, prepares a feast, and dresses his son in a festive robe. The child who was lost has come home! The one who was dead is alive. This parent doesn't raise a whole bunch of questions! He's just happy to have his child home.
The older son, the firstborn, the righteous one, is just plain resentful—and probably for good reason resentful. He boycotts the party, stands mutinously outside! He is mad at his father, just as much as at his brother. Here he is, been doing the right thing all these years. Beneath the anger we can taste anguish as well. Beneath the "He's no good" we can sense a little question lurking in the heart of the older brother: "Can I ever be good enough? Don't I rate your love? What do I have to do for you to love me?" Now let’s talk about that other brother! Because the parent’s love for that sibling I no less remarkable. Ever tried loving a resentful, self-righteous, insecure person? But this same householder goes out and listens to the complaints and insecurity of the hardworking first sibling. He doesn't give up on the righteous fearful one. The parent loves this one too, with the whole heart! A halfway decent parent has no choice.
And yet. Even the parent in this story, like every mother father or mentor, has questions—soul questions. For when a person SEEMS to take it all for granted, ditches us, abandons home, we find ourselves asking the hard questions-- we too must question in our souls, "Am I good enough? What did I do wrong?" And when a grown son or daughter looks at us in accusation and bewilderment and pain, accusing us of playing favorites, and never noticing the gifts, we ask again, "Where did I fall short? Am I good enough?"
Parents need forgiveness, parents also require patience, even parents can spit and go judgmental and sour. Parents too are prone to wander, parents require grace. Parents too need to be told, "You are good enough for God."
There are at least three parables tied into one: the parable of the prodigal, the parable of the resurrected father, the parable of the hurt older brother. But what ties all these three stories together is a profound question: How good is good enough? Who is good enough for God?
Even though God is never mentioned in the story, God is there looking on, with us, asking, "When will all of you get it? You are all good enough. From my perspective, you are good enough to work with, good enough to throw a party for, good enough to die for, good enough to love."
III.
We need to start looking at ourselves with both honesty and love! We cannot see ourselves through others’ judgment and need. We need to start taking to heart the love of God. We need to come home.
"God was in Jesus Christ," says Paul, "reconciling the world to Godself, not counting their trespasses against them and entrusting to us the message of reconciliation. So, we are ambassadors for Christ, God making God's appeal through us."
Will the day ever come when we can look through the eyes of love at the person who spews venom, and see a child of God? I mean, let's get real! Will the day ever come when we can respond to the person who has written us off as subhuman or subChristian, or subversive, and not write her off or him off?
It may seem impossible. And yet Christianity is not just some little game we play on Sunday mornings. We believe in the God who has a heart, the God of love. We trust in a God who knows what it means to lose a child, a God who knows what it means to hurt in the face of hatred and prejudice, a God who knows what it means to be spat at, a God who knows what it means to be dismissed or bypassed.
You and I are companions of Christ— and that means we can see with the eyes of Christ, and yes, even love with the heart of Christ. That’s where we find the courage to tell the truth, call out the abuse of power, embrace the untouchable, receive the stranger, love ourselves. We walk with Christ, even when we wander, friends of a messiah who couldn't abide self- righteousness, who couldn't abide exclusion, who couldn't stand pretense, who struggled all his life against judgmentalism, who was willing to die to overcome hatred.
So, have courage. Be bold. I hear that old church reformer Martin Luther once said that we should "sin boldly." But I say to you, Love boldly. Find the clarity and compassion to look around at all we meet with the eyes of love, with the eyes of Christ. And in the looking, may you find joy and redemption.