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A Sermon by Cynthia Bauleke
Fertilizing Faith
A Sermon by Cynthia Bauleke
Fertilizing Faith The morning air was already hot
as we arrived at Magic Mountain. As I deposited a carload of eager teens at the
gate of the amusement park my parting words were, "Be sure to drink plenty of
water! You don’t want to get dehydrated!" I reflected ruefully on that
remark as I drove away. I can’t imagine these independent teens paid any
attention to my words of wisdom. And then I thought of how odd our obsession
with hydration is, a cultural anomaly. This obsession is a function of health,
to be sure, yet perhaps even more a function of our leisure and affluence. The
variety and prices of bottled water in Haggen and even convenience stores
testify to this. As I headed for the shade and a drink of water, statistics of
dehydration in other parts of the world crossed my brain. I was mindful of
places where teens and toddlers face life-threatening shortages of water, where
their lives are at risk because of skirmishes over water rights, where
dehydration takes its toll on livestock and lifestyles. Perhaps you’ve heard of the
Lost Boys. Twenty thousand children, mostly boys, left orphaned and homeless
by civil war in the Sudan fourteen years ago. The boys banded together to become
family for each other, and escaping to save their lives, traveled across Africa
for years, until those who survived the trip found refugee camps in which to
live. After a decade in the refugee camps some of them are just now coming to
the United States. The Alkai United Church of Christ in Seattle has sponsored
some of these Lost Boys who tell of traveling until their bare feet were
open wounds, many dying from disease or starvation, some eaten by lions, but
they say the greatest difficulty was the unforgiving thirst of the desert. Few
of us have known this kind of thirst. Yet each of us has experienced a
deep thirst in our lives. A thirst for God. I can’t help but wonder if this
thirst has anything to do with the proliferation of pop and juice machines on
street corners, standing sentinels against the enemy, thirst. Would it account
for the billions of dollars spent in advertising colored drinks in colorful
cans? Could we explain to a person from another culture why we have cupholders
on strollers and golf carts, coolers in the cabs of combines, and flight
attendants who race to roll the beverage cart down the aisles of an airborne
jet? What is this "thirst thing" all
about? The more we have available to us, the more we think we need. It surely is
about more than replenishing liquids in our depleted systems. Perhaps it is a
systematic denial of the "real thing," the "real thirst," that vague, often
indiscernible, longing in our lives which cannot be quenched by vending
machines. The question from the prophet
Isaiah challenges us across the centuries. "Why do you spend your money . . .
for that which does not satisfy? . . . Seek the Lord . . . call upon God."
Perhaps when we reach for the cold drink, when we seek out the illuminated soda
sentry at the gas station or the break room or the hallway at school, we are
actually on another search. This is where we find ourselves
in this midpoint of Lent, searching for something, yet not quite sure what it
is. We like the idea of oasis, of constant underground springs, of refreshment
in the desert, but are we willing to admit our very deep and considerable
thirst? That would be repentance. That
would mean admitting to ourselves, and to others, our need for God. It would
mean admitting that we cannot get through our day at the amusement park, through
our class schedule, through our work, our life, without the cooling springs of
God. That would mean, God forbid, that we are dependent. Radically dependent on
God to replenish our spiritual cells, to refresh our hearts, to wash away our
fears, to soothe our anxieties. That would be repentance, turning and returning
to God. And that would be an appropriate
admission, confession, affirmation, rejoicing, of our need here in the midst of
the desert of Lent. Admit it. Just do it. As human beings we need God. Most of us don’t do mystery very
well. And sometimes instead of seeking God who alone can quench our thirst, we
want answers. So did the people in Luke’s story. They wanted to know why
faithful people coming to the temple to worship were killed. Because they
suffered in this way were they worse sinners than others? Did they cause this
tragedy? Why did this happen? Why do bad things happen to good people? The
question is as old as humanity. Yet this question doesn’t seem
to be as important to Jesus as it is to us. For Jesus the why is not important.
In a world shaped by God’s creativity - freedom is central to the energy of
creativity. And freedom means God gives up some power and control - not because
God is impotent, but because God is so loving. So tragedies happen. People get
cancer, families and lives are broken, children shoot each other in school,
violence happens, wars, conflicts, hundreds of people are homeless in Whatcom
County, twenty million people worldwide live in refugee camps. Tragedy happens
and we want to make some sense out of it, we want to know why. But the theological question is
not why. The idea that only good things happen to good people was put to rest
when Jesus was hung on a cross. The real question is how? How do we live and how
do we endure in a world where tragedies happen? This is where Jesus says
"repent." Repent means to turn. Turning away from the "why" question and turning
to the "how" question. Turn from blaming - blaming those in authority, blaming
God, blaming the victims, or blaming ourselves. Instead turn. Turn to the God
for whom we thirst. Come close to God. Stay grounded and connected to God’s
grace. Because then when stuff happens - and certainly it will - God can and
will sustain you. God will hang from the crosses of your tragedy and your
deception, your doubt and your despair. God will weep with you. And God will
never, ever, abandon you. You will suffer. You will die. But you will not
perish. God will be with you to quench your thirst with springs of living water,
refreshing and splashing and centering and deepening. Jesus finishes this morning by
telling the parable of the fig tree. He tells this story to remind us just what
kind of God we have. God is not like a landowner who rips us out and throws us
away when we don’t produce fruit. No. Instead, God is like a wise and patient
gardener - who gives us a second and a third and a fourth chance to root
ourselves in holy ways. This gardener God prunes, digs, fertilizes, and
waters us. Then God waits - waits for the seeds of divine creativity in us to
finally blossom into fruitful life for the world. God is a gardener who waits
for us to grow into spiritual maturity and ripeness. And, who knows? In God’s
wisdom, the "stuff" that happens - the unfair pain and suffering and distress in
the world - this "stuff" may just be the fertilizer that gives nourishment to
our developing souls. This week Susan Sanders of the
United Church of Christ’s Wider Church Ministries Board was in Bellingham
meeting with local ministers to promote One Great Hour of Sharing. She told us
story after story of tragedies in this country and around the world to which we
are able to respond because of your generosity in giving to our annual Spring
Offering. Last week we sent $10,000 to help with flood relief in Hungary. With
nine other denominations who contribute to One Great Hour of Sharing, $20
million dollars was used last year to touch the lives of 8 million people. Half
of the money spent by the United Church of Christ goes for disaster relief, the
other half is for development work. In either case we always work through
partner churches so almost all the money goes directly to those in need. With
these partner churches we can ask "What would you have us do with you?" One of the more poignant stories
Susan shared with us was of a small grant of $2,000 given to develop a
micro-enterprise in Duzjday, Turkey. In this small town, the big earthquake came
at prayer time. All the men were gathered in the mosque kneeling in prayer. The
earthquake shook the mosque until it collapsed, killing all of these faithful
men. The women in this very patriarchal culture were left alone, with families
and no way to support them. We were there through One Great Hour of Sharing
asking these women, "What would you have us do with you?" It is the tradition in
this culture that each woman owns 52 scarves, one for each week of the year. To
each scarf the women add a hand worked edge with a variety of finishes. These
widows asked for money to buy scarves, they devote hours to making beautiful
hand-worked edges and sell the scarves to support themselves and their families.
Susan Saunders was wearing one of these scarves, with a tatted edge, as she told
their story. Martin Gray was a survivor of
the Warsaw Ghetto and the Holocaust. Following the war, he married, raised a
family, and became successful in business. Once again tragedy struck in his
life. His wife and children were killed in a forest fire which swept through
their home in southern France. He was distraught after this senseless loss, and
friends encouraged him to launch an investigation into how and why this horror
happened. Instead, Martin Gray began a passionate movement to protect nature
from future fires. He explained to his friends that an investigation would focus
only on the past, on issues of pain and sorrow and blame - on accusing other
people of being responsible for his misery. He wasn’t interested in asking
"why?" He was only interested in asking "now what?" "How can I live into the
future - in life affirming, and not life denying ways? Today Jesus presents us with the
central dilemma - the choice - of Lent. Why are we here? Are we stuck in the
past - or do we believe in the hope of the future? Do we want answers or do we
want a relationship with God? Are we willing to repent and admit our dependence
on the God in whose image we are created? Perhaps you have come here today
to gather strength for the political battles that result in water rights being
settled, in wealth being distributed, in vaccines and clean water preventing
total decimation through dehydration. Or maybe today, you are here to rest and
receive. Maybe you are weary from believing you must do everything yourself.
Maybe you just need to rest and remember who you are and whose you are. God is waiting patiently for us
to turn and return to the mercy and grace offered to quench our thirst through
the power of the Holy Spirit who will fill our cells with the springs of God.
This is the Good News of the Gospel. May it be so for you and for me - this day and
in the days and weeks to come. Amen. |