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May 29, 2005
Taking Care of Business
Genesis 6:9-22; 7:24; 8:14-19
Noah! Noah! Everyone knows the story of Noah. He built an ark. Collected pairs of animals. Got his family on board. Endured forty days and forty nights of rain. Floated out the flood. Ended up on dry land. He was a player in God's effort to clean up a situation that had gotten bad and was getting worse. I'm part of a discussion group that meets every week at Cottage Grove. We read and talk together about the scripture lessons for two Sunday's hence. They suggested I preach on Noah; said it was a real winner—people will find it easy to get into the story. I don't disagree.
I can scarcely hear this story without thinking of Bill Cosby's rendition. Noah. Who's there? Noah, this is the Lord! Right! Who is this really? Cosby strikes just the right note of incredulity. The story of Noah is amazing. But I suspect that since the great tsunami of late last year and the devastation it wrought on the Indonesian coast and elsewhere in the region, we have less trouble imagining what Noah may have been facing.
We hear a lot about Noah, his righteousness and faithfulness. He was a man taking care of business. It wasn't business he went looking for; it came looking for him. But he took it on. Noah's a kind of hero.
What we don't hear quite so much about all the people who were killed. We're told that evil and corruption were so pervasive, so widespread, so intractable, so deep, that the Lord was sorry even to have made human beings. It's a sad day when the one who made you gives up on you. None were worth saving. We put a lot of stock in the worth of individuals. It's it hard to imagine that one, no not one person beyond Noah and his family were worth saving. Yet, our story tells us that what the Lord did was the right thing to do.
When I think of people being wiped out, 9/11 can hardly fail to come to mind. We were all so shocked and stricken. Across the world reaction was mixed. Some were sympathetic. Others took a kind of satisfaction in our having been dealt a terrible blow. Let your thoughts reach further back: the death camps in Germany where so many millions were exterminated are burned into our memories. Or consider the dropping of the atomic bomb on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. It was necessary, if not good; that's what many Americans think of those terrible events. All those thousands and millions obliterated; the innocent with the guilty.
There are many floods in life. And more than one reign of terror has wiped out people in a seemingly mindless way. More than one righteous cause has blotted out whole populations. We are even now engaged in a "war on terror." Terrorism seems rampant—a rising tide in the world, flooding us with fear and apprehension. Our government has proclaimed a "war on terrorism." Who'll come out of this flood?
Who is the one called to deliver us from such a flood of terror? Who is the righteous one who will fashion the vessel of our salvation? Many in our country say that we are that righteous vessel. I remember the late President Reagan recalling the dreams of Pilgrims who imagined their new homeland would be like a "city set on a hill" to illumine the whole world. In more recent time, President Bush has said that what provoked the terrorists and their sympathizers is envy of our "freedom." He has also observed that we are the righteous ones facing down the evil ones, and that others must be either with us or against us in this; there is no middle ground. Many religious leaders in our country agree that America is the light of the right. Many of us like to think that our country is a good place, not perfect, but open and generous. One of our hymns prays God to "crown our good with brotherhood." We're proud of our goodness.
What if we set beside the pride in the rightness and righteousness of our country, what Jesus said to religious leaders in our reading for today? "Not everyone who says to the 'Lord, Lord,' will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father in heaven." He was speaking to people who thought themselves righteous. "Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and cast out demons in your name, and do many deeds of power in your name?" They not only talked the talk, they walked the walk—or so they believed. But there was something about them, perhaps something they did not even know about themselves, but something indeed they did not, or could not acknowledge about themselves that Jesus saw. We believe that the Lord looks not on the outward appearance of things, but looks at people's hearts. When Jesus looked into their hearts what he saw prompted him to respond to their boast: "I never knew you; go away from me, you evildoers." What kind of people can these be who believe themselves to be so good, but yet the Lord calls them "evildoers," and doesn't want them in his sight? It's not enough just to say and do the right thing. Your heart's got to be in it, too. I wonder if those religious leaders to whom Jesus spoke were as bewildered as we might be when others don't recognize the goodness our country along with its power and might.
I recall how after 9/11, some Americans wondered out loud whether our nation's policies and posture throughout the world had helped bring this terrible thing on us. It was as if people who hurt us were saying, as did the TV announcer in the film "Network," "I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take it anymore." What was the response they got? Suggesting that our country might in some way be at fault? Americans everywhere were indignant, angry, outraged. How could these critics blame the victim? Those who don't remember history, if they do not repeat, are likely to suffer from their lapse. More than a few believe that what happened on 9/11 is a culmination of longstanding patterns of behavior on our part and equally longstanding grievances on the parts of people not nearly so enchanted with us as we are with ourselves. Can we even imagine the Lord might say to our nation: "I never knew you; go away from me, you evildoers?"
Where is the vessel of salvation? I wish I could say that the church was prepared to step up for this. Many of us have been part of the church long enough to know its shortcomings and deficiencies. Part of the gift that comes to the church is knowing that "all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God." Whatever we may think about our own goodness, or about our nation's claims to goodness, we know the reality. Not just "them." But "us," too. Only God is good. We're not, or at least not good enough to brag about it.
More than that, we have this gift by faith. Indeed, faith itself is a gift. We are gift community. We live and move and have our being because of the gift of God in Jesus Christ. We live as gifted people. Someone has said that we don't really receive a gift until we give a gift. What goes around comes around. You know the story about the family on the highway whose gas tank got filled by a stranger using a gas can they'd pass on to someone years before. Gifts aren't for keeping; they're for sharing. Gifts are for giving. Those who have received a gift know how to give a gift.
Is that not something to stand for in a world awash in terror: that life and breath and all we are and have is simply a gift? In face of those who take and take and take, does it not take courage to say life is not for the taking; it is a gift. In face of those who perpetrate violence, does it not take courage to say that life does not come of violence but in giving? In face of those who boast of great goodness, does it not take courage to remind them that goodness is nothing to be claimed; it is a gift that gets better in the sharing.
Noah's ark bore the gift of lives delivered from the terrible flood. For generations, Noah's Ark has been a reminder of baptism. Each Sunday we remind each other of our baptism during our time of confession. It's a sign of our deliverance. Baptism's a gift.
It goes along with another gift: the Lord's Supper. The Lord's Supper is where those who have been baptized are freely nourished. A big part of the Lord's Supper is "remembering." This weekend many of you have visited or will visit gravesites of family and friends. You'll remember them. None of us unaware that we are at war. Lives of young men and women are in harm's way. You may be part of community celebrations of Memorial Day. We remember those who have died in service of this country, who lives have been lost, so that you and I could wake up this morning in the country we have. We are gifted with a more profound memory of the one who said: This is my body broken for you. This is my blood, shed for you.
We're part of a gift community; the great community of faith that lives from God's gift. We're called to live as people who have received a great gift. We are called to live as people who have a great gift to share. It's the right thing to do.
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First Presbyterian
Church of Cedar Rapids
310 Fifth Street SE Cedar Rapids, IA 52401
Phone: 319-364-6148
E-mail: church@fpccr.org
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