Wednesday, September 11, 2019

Zoomer's Sermon of 27 October 2001 ~ "Here It Comes Again"

Ecclesiastes 3
01] To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
02] A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
03] A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;
04] A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
05] A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
06] A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
07] A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
08] A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.

Luke 13
01] At that very time there were some present who told him about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices.
02] He asked them, "Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans?
03] No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did.
04] Or those eighteen who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them-do you think that they were worse offenders than all the others living in Jerusalem?
05] No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did."


Those of us who have been around for a few years have at least one thing in common: not much surprises us anymore. We've found out that our parents were pretty much right about most things.

For example, I remember one occasion during the late 1960s, when the war in Viet Nam was going full tilt: I tried spouting the Peace And Love Brother rhetoric of the day to my mother. She was born in 1915 and one of her earliest memories is of the soldiers coming home from World War I, and she gave me a reality check: as far back as she could remember there had always been a war. WWI, WWII, Korea. From HER parents and HER history lessons she learned of the Spanish-American War. From her grandparents she heard of the Civil War--or, if you prefer, the War Between the States, the Rebellion, the War of Northern Aggression or the Recent Unpleasantness. These, of course, are just some well-known American wars from the last hundred and fifty years. She went on to say that the Bible is teeming with stories of wars.

I thought she didn't know anything. All you have to do is not fight, I said. She replied firmly that life IS a fight. I didn't comprehend that at all. I had never had to fight--for anything--and I didn't see how the murky past had anything to do with the here and now. Many lessons lay ahead...

Many years later, when my father passed away, I experienced a moment of enlightenment in my grief--an epiphany: what I was experiencing that day was something my father had experienced back in 1947 when he lost HIS father. It had been experienced in every family and every household since the beginning of time. It was universal--and inevitable. And I remembered words he had once said to me: "Boy, you're gonna find as you go through life that it's one thing after another." That's a paraphrase--his actual words were considerably earthier and not intended for the pulpit. But it boils down to this: there is ALWAYS something to contend with.

Today's Old Testament reading was put to music by folksinger Pete Seeger and was a hit for the Byrds back in the mid-'60s. Back then I took it as a pacifist sentiment: "a time for peace, I swear it's not too late." Since then I've found that in order to REALLY learn about a song, you have to go back to the original rendition, which in this case is the Bible. Exactly what is Solomom--in all his wisdom--saying to us? Well, he's resigned himself to the inevitability of both good and bad things happening during the course of one's life, and for this reason some people say he's a cynic. Granted, he's not very encouraging in the "rah-rah" sense of the word, but it's heartening to know that what we're going through now is pretty much the same rigamarole our predecessors went through before us.

The last time I preached here, I was asked if I ever got depressed. The answer is "yes." I think all of us have our dark moments, especially since the events of September the 11th. I've heard it said that you can only be ecstatically happy if you are totally oblivious to what's going on in the world. We all know what's going on--both here and abroad--and it's a grim scene. There's a war on and people are dying. Our mail has been contaminated and our security has been breached. Towers have fallen on the innocent.

But just as times of peace end with the next war, so the current war will end with the next time of peace--although war and peace are always localized things. There's always somebody somewhere fighting over something: religion, politics, land, oil, greed, revenge, hatred. And whatever the root cause may be, everybody involved invokes the name of Almighty God and claims His endorsement. Right now, while we're all singing "God Bless America," a Jihad--a Holy War--has been declared on us.

Balancing the physical and spiritual aspects of life can get confusing--and complicated. Has anybody ever seen the film, "Sergeant York," starring Gary Cooper? Alvin York lived way back in the country and belonged to a fundamentalist church. When World War II broke out and his draft notice came, he sought exemption as a conscientious objector--only to discover that the United States Government didn't recognize his denomination! He retreats to the mountainside with his Bible to ponder his dilemna: "The Book is ag'in' killin,' and war is killin', so war is ag'in' the Book." He finds the resolution to this enigma at the other end of the Bible, in the words of Jesus, (which he takes out of context):  "Render therefore unto Caesar the things which are Caesar’s; and unto God the things that are God’s." (Matthew 22:21) Alvin York joins the Army, goes to Germany, kills just enough of an enemy platoon to let it be known he means business, and brings the rest of them in alive. He returns to the hills a reluctant hero, and resumes his quiet life.

Today's reading tells us that life is seasonal, that some things come and go and come back again; that what goes up must come down; that everything passes. And like the seasons, there are beginnings and endings to everything--even us. Especially us! As every spring the birds come out and sing, it's always a new generation of birds. 

One of the most important lessons I have ever learned came from yet another Gary Cooper movie, "The Pride of the Yankees." Since the World Series is going on, this seems like a good time to bring this up. It's the story of Lou Gehrig, the "Iron Horse," who played in 2,130 consecutive games before his career was halted by the debilitating disease which now bears his name. I took particular interest in this movie because for years I was mis-diagnosed with the same illness. At the end of the picture, Lou Gehrig gives his famous farewell speech, in which he calls himself the "luckiest man in the world;" and as he leaves the field the umpire calls out, "Play ball!" The game goes on without him.

Mark Twain once said that the reason we rejoice at the birth of a child and grieve at the passing of an old person is because we're not the one involved.

And according to The Beatles, "life goes on within you--and without you."

It's amazing to me that in the many centuries that have passed since Bible days, the only thing that's REALLY different about us is the technology. We can spot you from space and use a computer to aim a missile directly at you--unless you're in a cave. 

In today's New Testament reading, Jesus hears news of Pilate--yes, THAT Pilate--mingling Galileans' blood with their sacrifices. Did they die because they were worse than other Galileans? No. According the historian Josephus, the Galileans, who were under the jurisdiction of Herod, were a rowdy and seditious lot; and they probably created enough of an uproar at one of the great feasts at Jerusalem to give Pilate--who was Herod's mortal enemy--an excuse to go in kill a few of them.

Jesus tells His listeners that it could happen to them, too, if they don't repent. And then He says, "those eighteen who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them--do you think that they were worse offenders than all the others living in Jerusalem?" No, but if you don't repent, a tower might fall on you, too. It seems that buildings fall on the just and the unjust.

Every joy, every blessing, everything good that comes our way is a gift from God. The darker side of life is a lot more difficult to comprehend--we tend to think that anything bad that happens to us is punishment for some real or imagined moral crime. Indeed, a well-known evangelist blamed the attacks of 9/11 on America's sexual behaviour. And some people think the AIDS epidemic is a manifestation of God's wrath; never mind that babies are being born with it. Being a color commentator for God is risky business.

In John 9 we read:
01] ...as Jesus passed by, he saw a man which was blind from his birth.
02] And his disciples asked him, saying, Master, who did sin, this man, or his parents, that he was born blind?
03] Jesus answered, Neither hath this man sinned, nor his parents: but that the works of God should be made manifest in him.

Now, the asking of this question, "Who did sin, this man, or his parents...?" indicates belief in the doctrine of transmigration: that physical problems in this life are punishment for sins committed in a previous life. It was a widely held belief in those days that marks on the body were indicative of a sinful soul--yours or your parents'.

But our Lord's answer is, "Neither." Neither hath this man sinned, nor his parents. This man's blindness has happened in the ordinary course of Divine providence to be the instrument of salvation to his soul, edification to others, and glory to God.

I can identify with this passage. I tend to think that what has happened to me was God's way of getting my attention. When I had two good hands, I was out in the honky-tonks every night, consuming massive quantities of beer and playing cheatin' songs on the electric guitar. Not that I think there's anything horribly wrong with beer or country music--that's not the point. The point is that I was doing absolutely nothing to help further the Kingdom of God. So a tower fell on me--sort of. And God pulled me from the rubble, dusted me off, and pointed me in the opposite direction. A time to pick and grin, and a time to proclaim the Good News.   

Life is a package deal: we don't get to pick and choose which joys and sorrows will confront us. We get them all. Always have, always will. And along with some really high highs we get some really low lows.

We can choose to dwell on half of the equation--either half--but that doesn't really work. The point is that everything is cyclical. There is an upside to every negative and a downside to every positive. Just as we can't mourn forever, so we can't dance forever. And just as hilarity subsides, so does sorrow. Without darkness there would be no light; without sorrow there would be no joy; without ugliness there would be no beauty; without evil there would be no goodness; without hatred there would be no love.

Among all these variables on our spiritual journey--our road of life--is one Eternal Constant: God's Love for us. The God of Solomon is our God today. The same Jesus who taught the masses and healed the sick is our Saviour today.

And if God is for us, who--or what--can be against us? To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.