Sermons from Mission Hills UCC San Diego, California Rev. Dr. David Bahr [email protected] July 3, 2022 “Freedom For” Psalm 66: 1-12 Shout joyfully to God, all the earth! 2 Sing praises to the glory of God’s name! Make glorious God’s praise! 3 Say to God: “How awesome are your works! Because of your great strength, your enemies cringe before you. 4 All the earth worships you, sings praises to you, sings praises to your name!” 5 Come and see God’s deeds; because God’s works for human beings are awesome: 6 God turned the sea into dry land so they could cross the river on foot. Right there we rejoiced! 7 God rules with power forever; keeps a good eye on the nations. So don’t let the rebellious exalt themselves. 8 All you nations, bless our God! Let the sound of God’s praise be heard! 9 God preserved us among the living; and didn’t let our feet slip a bit. 10 But you, God, have tested us-- you’ve refined us like silver, 11 trapped us in a net, laid burdens on our backs, 12 let other people run right over our heads-- we’ve been through fire and water. But you brought us out to freedom! This passage celebrates three defining markers. 1) Creation. The Psalmist begins, “Make a joyful noise all the earth. How awesome are God’s wonderful deeds. 2) The Exodus. They celebrate how God turned the sea into dry land so our ancestors could escape slavery in Egypt. This refrain is written into prayer and after prayer. Remember. Remember. Remember. The scriptures are filled with references to their freedom. And 3) The Exile. God tested us, laid burdens on our backs, let people ride over our heads. We went through fire and through water. Or, as Eugene Peterson puts it in The Message, “God trained us first, passed us through refining fires like we are silver, pushed us to our very limit, road-tested us inside and out, took us all the way to hell and back.” They’ve clearly returned home from exile, but they’re still trying to figure what happened? And what do we do with it? Always, what do we do with it. But first, when we approach this text, one very basic question is whether we believe God “tests us.” Verse 10 says: “You, God, have tested us.” Does that speak to you? Some of us, speaking from our own experiences, affirm that we have felt tested by God while at the same time wrestling with whether that’s something God does. I would absolutely never tell someone else “I think God is testing you.” What a horrible burden to place on someone. But if I’m telling the truth of my own experience, at certain times, it has certainly felt like a test from God. Was it God? If that question doesn’t speak to you, perhaps a better question is simply whether you have ever gone through a period of testing in your life. I think we can all say that. Life is a series of tests, right? Sometimes too many all at once. I like Peterson’s words, How many times have you felt “pushed to your very limit, road-tested inside and out, taken to hell and back.” In the case of the exiled people, the prophets warned them over and over. But they didn’t want to listen. They didn’t care for the poor, the widows and orphans. They didn’t care about justice. They didn’t want to change their ways. They wouldn’t change their ways. And so, catastrophe came upon them. Jeremiah warned of false prophets, “cheap preachers.” Saying what people want to hear. They’ll say, don’t worry about it. It’ll all return to normal, any time now. Two years max. But Jeremiah said, “Get used to strangeness. Get used to feeling like an outsider. Get used to having a new home in a place that feels threatening to you.” Walter Brueggemann wrote that description of Jeremiah’s words almost 10 years ago, but it feels this new morning in America very fresh. I fear we are in for a wild ride of quickly shifting sands. Rights and responsibilities and freedoms. One day here, gone the next. And this threat, this fear isn’t going to end any time soon. If we listen to the wisdom of the Prophet Jeremiah, we should get used to strangeness. For those of us unaccustomed to discrimination, a lack of autonomy, get used to feeling like, or rather, being, an outsider. Get used to having a new home in a place that feels threatening. Some people don’t know what this feels like and some people know it all too well for all too long. In Psalm 66, looking back from the other side of the exile, the Psalmist made an assessment. God was testing us. But… and this is a big but… You brought us out to freedom. Brueggemann describes this Psalm of creation, exodus, and exile as a pattern for life: First, remember the extraordinary goodness of God. Secondly, tell the truth about your present tests, stresses, challenges, fears, threats. Then, thirdly, “Yet, nevertheless.” Road-tested inside and out, yet, nevertheless. Taken to hell and back. Yet, nevertheless, you have brought us out to freedom. But that was then and this is now. What if we’re still in the exile stage? A promise is one thing. Faith, trust. Not because God is testing us, but living in this strange land, what do we do now? One thing, Jeremiah answered, is to “pray for the people whom you fear.” Don’t just pray for yourselves but pray for the Babylonians. Because when God gives them peace, God will give it to you with them. Pray for their welfare. All of us are in this together. Feeling helpless? Don’t trust them? Think of other people as an enemy? Don’t just pray for yourself. Pray for the people whom you fear, or you don’t trust, or you simply don’t like and watch things change – if not in others, in us. Watch what can happen. Once there was a monastery so beautiful and peaceful that people drove way out of their way just to wander around and sit on its lush green lawn under the big cottonwood trees. The monastery had gained a reputation among people who were always feeling frenetically hurried and perpetually stressed. Go there and you will find relief. Grieving people came to sit under the gently swaying weeping willows to experience hopeful quietness, not just the quiet of loneliness. But the monastery fell upon hard times. Many of the monks left in dissatisfaction. Soon, only a handful of them and the abbot remained. They were constantly fighting among themselves, each blaming their hard times on the faults and failings of the other. Such an atmosphere overtook the grounds. And, slowly, people stopped visiting. There was something different in the air. One day a travelling rabbi stopped at the monastery to rest for the night. He ate and prayed alongside the monks. The next day, as the rabbi prepared to leave, the abbot drew him aside. He told him the problems of his monastery. Having been there just one night, the rabbi shook his head as though he understood exactly what the abbot was saying. The abbot pleaded for help. “Give me some advice to share with the other monks.” The rabbi said nothing. The abbot begged again. “Can’t you give me any idea how to save my monastery?” “No. But, I did discover that the Messiah lives at this monastery.” “What? Where. There’s nobody here but us.” “Well, I’m not sure who, but tell your monks to be on the lookout. One day you’ll know.” The abbot was frustrated that the rabbi had no real advice but thanked him and wished him well on his way. He then gathered the monks together to tell them what the rabbi said. As they looked at each other, they were genuinely skeptical. And while no one said it, each of them thought, there’s certainly no Messiah among this bunch of SOBs…sad ornery brothers. Certainly not Brother Henry. He was such a pessimist, he could find the downside of the sun rising in the morning. Certainly not Brother Thomas. He never shut up. Always going on about one thing or another, getting into people’s private business. Or Brother Michael either. He’s too quiet. We never even know what he thinks. But, maybe… And certainly not Brother Robert. He’s so gruff and disagreeable. He never, ever has a smile on his face. Or maybe that’s just a disguise… Maybe… Maybe it’s the abbot. But eventually each of them got around to the thought – uh oh. What if it’s me? Like Brother Clarence thought, my attitude often makes me the least likely of any of us. But, what if I’m the Messiah? A few months later, Brother Michael asked the others: “Doesn’t it seem like every day there are a few more people wandering around, sitting under the cottonwood trees?” Brother Adam agreed, “yes, every week it seems like there are more cars here than the week before.” The atmosphere had, in fact, become palpably different as each of the monks began to see the potential that any one of them might be the Messiah – even themselves. In time, some of those wandering the grounds asked about joining. In time, every room in the monastery housed a new monk. And once again it was a thriving community. The Psalmist spoke of creation, exodus, and exile. The exiles have returned home from Babylon, but they’re still trying to figure out, what happened? Well, they were tested. And God brought them out to freedom. To freedom. There are many ways to think about freedom, but I wonder about two things. Freedom from and freedom for what. Freedom from what? With faith in the goodness of the God of creation, remembering the liberating God of the exodus, there is freedom – freedom from despair. There is freedom from hopelessness and helplessness. Because God has made us free for something. Freedom for what? Well, in this present time of strangeness, God grant us courage. Some wisdom and serenity too. Wherever hatred stalks, we can choose to sing of love. Where fear roars, to stand with courage. Where pain overwhelms, to extend comfort. Where bigotry rages, using our freedom, to call for justice. And where systems oppress, with our freedom, to work for change. But not everyone came home from Exile. The change we work for may come in our lifetime or for our grandchildren’s children. Friends, use your freedom to work for change until our nation’s pursuit of a “more perfect union” actually extends “liberty and justice for all.” Not just a generic, unspecified “all,” but to everyone of all races, not just one; all genders, not just one; every religion, not just one; every sexual orientation, not just one. Liberty and justice regardless of bank account or access to power, language or kind of status. Rights extended, love extended, freedom for, not just some of us, but all of us.
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