25 October 2009

Jeremiah 31.31-34

Psalm 46

Romans 3.19-28

St. John 8.31-36

My Grandma Emanuelson was a great story-teller. Being only human she did, however, have a somewhat limited repertoire of tales, so eventually, she came to the point where she would preface nearly every story with, “Now if I’ve told you this before, just stop me.” Of course the sub-text was, “Yes, I know I’ve told you this story over and over and over through the years, but don’t you dare try to stop me.” With that as my preface, a story:

Father Martin Luther was a professor, and one day his students asked him, “Dr. Luther, what would you do if you knew judgment day were coming tomorrow?”

Immediately, the teacher replied, “I would plant a tree, change the baby’s diapers – wash them, hang them out to dry to give my wife Katie a break – and I would drink some of that wonderful beer my dear spouse brews – the very best in the land – and strong too!”

Silence in the classroom. Perhaps Dr. Luther had drunk a bit too much of his dear Katie’s good beer the night before and, fuzzy of head, hadn’t understood the question. Again, a student: “Reverend Father, we’re talking judgment day here – the end of the world. How would you want God to find you?”

Dr. Luther let out a loud belch (his manners – or lack thereof – were world renowned), and said, “I would plant a tree, change the baby’s diapers – wash them, hang them out to dry to give my wife Katie a break – and I would sit down and drink some of that wonderful beer by dear wife brews.”

OK. Something was up. Dr. Luther was obviously seeing this as a teachable moment, and his students were about to be bested. The Reformer drew a deep breath and launched his explanation: “Were judgment day tomorrow I should like to be found by God being as I was created to be, that is, a down-to-earth creature, set upon earth to till the garden and keep it; to care for my neighbor, especially the most vulnerable; and to enjoy the good creation. And so, in hope, I would plant a tree. And as for my vulnerable neighbor, there is no one so vulnerable as a poor baby with dirty, wet diapers, and too, because Katie already does so much, I would wash the diapers and hang them out to dry so that she not be burdened. And I would enjoy some of Katie’s good beer – surely one of the finest gifts of creation.”

“But, but . . . what about prayers?” spluttered one young student.

“Yes,” piped up another, “shouldn’t we be found praising God?”

And yet another eager beaver spoke up, “Shouldn’t we be pleading for forgiveness?”

Dr. Luther shook his head, wondering whether any of them had been listening to any of his homilies and lectures. “Why would we need to worry about any of that?” asked their teacher with a slightly pained look on his face. Scripture tells us that in Christ, we are right with God, good to God, perfect in God’s eyes in every way. There is no need to plead or to pray or to do anything. We are baptized,” he declared, making the sign of the cross upon himself. “All our sins forever forgiven AND forgotten, there’s nothing left to do to prove ourselves. Here is the truth of God’s proclamation in Christ: We are free – to be as we were created to be – down-to-earth creatures.”

Now, one might ask: “So, what are we doing in church? Really, don’t we at least have to come to Sunday services? Aren’t we supposed to offer God our thanks and praise?” And the simple answer: God does not need our thanks and praise, and no, we do not have to be here. However . . . . we do need to be here and yes, by all means, we do give God thanks and praise – but none of it is for God’s sake. Whatever happens here is for our own sake and the sake of the neighbor in front of us, behind us, and next to us on either side.

We come here time and again to be reminded: to be reminded in Word and sacrament, to be reminded by one another, to be reminded by the writings of saints and by the singing of hymns that we are already right with God and good to God; to be reminded over and over that God does not need to be pleaded or bargained with. The truth is that all is already forgiven all! We come to be reminded that in God’s sight and by God’s promise, though born of a humanity turned-in-on-self and hell bent on taking heaven by storm, in Baptism we have been reborn – made whole – free to be as God desired in creation: perfectly at home in this world, caring for the earth with hope, caring for the vulnerable neighbor, and enjoying the fruits of the creation.

We, all of us, really do need to be here for a few hours a week, because for the rest of the hours of the week, our ears are bombarded by the voices that accuse, that say: “you will never be good enough, you will never be beautiful or handsome or strong enough, you will never have enough money, never enough possessions, you will never do anything perfectly enough, and God is just waiting for you to screw up so He (it’s usually male) can punish you,” and on and on and on. Because our ears are so blamed full of the voices that accuse, we need the singing, need the praying, need the exultation of this beautiful Celebration Mass today.

All of that, and each of us here for the other – it’s all God’s work for us, God using us to tell one another over and over and over that in Christ, God has declared for all time that God simply refuses to be known as the God of vengeance, that God will not strike back at God’s deniers and murderers, and that the God who would rather die than punish is the God of life beyond all our earthly boundaries.

And so for 125 years God’s down-to-earth creatures have gathered in a community bearing the name of St. Paul, whose writings helped restore the Church to its proper work: to be reminded by God, with and through one another, that there is nothing we need fear. For 125 years the Saints of St. Paul have proclaimed with their lips and with their lives that ours is not an angry vengeful God – ours is a God who says we are forever good and right in spite of everything we have done amiss and ever will do amiss. Ours is a God who sees us as good stewards of earth and sea and sky; who sees us as caregivers to one another and especially to the vulnerable; ours is a God who delights in our enjoyment of this very good creation.

As we are gathered here this weekend to begin the 126^th year of this St. Paul community of faith, not a one of us is here because we have to be here; rather all of us are here because we need to be here. We’re in this place to hear and to receive the liberating word that all is forgiven and all are restored. By the proclamation of God in Christ we are freed from worrying about ourselves and whether we are good enough, free from fear to plant some trees with audacious hope in our hearts; free from fear to change some diapers and hang ‘em out to dry; and free from fear to enjoy sunrises and sunsets, music and art, romance and love, beer and wine, good jokes and lame jokes, poetry and pulp fiction, good friends and weird relatives – and on and on it goes. That’s our story, and we’re going to tell it over and over and over again, and nobody’s going to stop us, God willing, for at least another 125 years.

Thanks be to God and Amen!!