Psalm 34:15-22; John 6:60-69
Presented August 23, 2009, by J.D. Kline
The Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost
Quaker author Philip Gulley has written a series of “Harmony novels,” describing life in the small fictional town of Harmony, Indiana, particularly experiences within the life and fellowship of Harmony Friends Church and its pastor, Sam Gardner. Gulley describes one of the church’s characters, often a thorn in the side to Pastor Sam, in this way: “He knows just enough Scripture to be annoying, but not enough to be transformed.” We all know persons like that, don’t we? Persons who can quote individual verses of Scripture, but demonstrate precious little of the spirit behind those Scriptures. Persons who display little or none of the compassion and mercy, the forgiveness and grace, manifest in Jesus. Persons who are adept at pulling out Scripture references to prove their point, to compel others to do what they want, or to extend harsh words of judgment against one another. Persons who are not only annoying, but sadly, often dangerous, as Scripture has been used to justify everything from slavery to spousal abuse, from bigotry to homophobia, from crusades and inquisitions to violence and warfare.
The Bible has long been on best seller lists, but there’s a whole group of people who, like that character in the Harmony novels, claim to love the Bible while displaying little awareness of what’s actually in that Bible. And what’s in the Scriptures is a whole host of perspectives and experiences, yearnings and desires, frustrations and failures, callings and challenges, affirmations and uncertainties, that somehow all connect to the central story line that runs throughout the Bible—the story of God’s gracious, out-reaching, and transforming love. Indeed, the Latin root of our word Bible is biblia, meaning “the books.” The 39 books comprising the Old Testament and the 27 forming the New Testament contain a myriad of differing—and sometimes conflicting—perceptions and portrayals of the life of faith. Yet those varied insights and experiences are woven together by the fundamental story of our Creator God’s abundant compassion and love.
All of this stands as a significant reminder for us that the life of faith is not something we can readily nail down; it is not something that can easily be reduced to a simple list of prescribed beliefs and actions, try as many may. Instead, faith ever involves struggling and questioning, growing and shifting, evolving and becoming. Faith is not a final arrival, but rather, an ongoing journey towards transformation, a continuing conversation around critical questions: How do we respond to this God who Scripture dares to suggest is ever seeking relationship with you and me, and indeed, with all creation? How are we called to live in relationship with God and one another, as participants in God’s unfolding realm of life? What is the nature and shape of faithful living, of living transformed by the Spirit of Jesus Christ, the One who most fully embodies the self-giving love and compassion of God?
Eugene Peterson, noted for The Message, a contemporary paraphrase of the Scriptures, reminds us that the Hebrew word for Bible most properly means “calling out,” suggesting that the Scriptures point to a God who is calling to us, a God ever inviting us into relationship, into a holy conversation. Indeed, the Scriptures themselves invite us into conversation—conversation with the text, conversation with God, conversation with one another, conversation regarding what it means to be a community of God’s people at this time and in this place. “The entire life of faith,” asserts Peterson, “is dialogue.” And there’s nothing static about dialogue. Dialogue is dynamic, not rigid; dialogue is fluid, not predictable; dialogue is open-ended, not tightly proscribed.
Surely this is true of the book of Psalms, that ancient prayer-book of the Hebrew people, which will not let us rest satisfied merely with conversation about God. Rather, the Psalms invite us into conversation with God. The Psalms reflect honest struggle with critical questions in the very midst of times of tragedy and loss, moments of uncertainty and fear, experiences of conflict and injustice, struggles with grief and pain. The psalmists displayed a courage that allowed them to give voice to critical questions of faith, questions such as: Where is God when we are suffering? How long will God allow injustice to prevail? What does it mean when God seemingly remains silent, absent from us? How do we experience God as our rock and fortress, a source of strength, in the very midst of struggle? But the psalmists not only give voice to their questions and doubts, their uncertainties and fears; the psalmists also listen—listen for the promptings of God’s Spirit, listen for God’s still small voice, listen for the conversation.
The writers of the psalms offer no simple answers. But again and again they remind us of a transforming truth, the promise that ours is a God who stands with us as we walk through the varied experiences of life. We encounter God, not when suffering is somehow lifted from us, but as we face into the very thick of those times when life seems utterly out of control. Frequently it is in the dark days of the soul that God whispers to us and touches us, heart and soul. The writers of the Psalms have learned this truth, and right alongside of their questions and struggles are words of remarkable trust and overflowing praise.
Psalm 34 is a wisdom psalm that offers words of hope to the struggling. The writer affirms his conviction that God will indeed honor the righteous, that God will bless those who reject voices of injustice and greed while embracing instead a life of trust in God. The psalmist offers words of encouragement to those who seek to “depart from evil and do good,” to those who “seek peace, and pursue it” (34:14). Notice once again that the psalmist does not claim that the life of faith guarantees trouble-free living for these righteous persons; rather, asserts the writer, “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted, and saves the crushed in spirit. Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the Lord rescues them” (34:18-19). Right in the center of life’s uncertainties, God calls us into relationship with God and into community with the people of God, and when we pray, as does the psalmist, we find ourselves drawn to consider new possibilities for our living. We find ourselves in a new conversation, and may well find ourselves transformed by the redeeming, loving, gracious Spirit of God. We find ourselves moving from self-centeredness to God-centeredness, from selfishness and greed to gratitude and generosity.
Do you recall the children’s game, “Blockhead,” in which players take turns placing differently-shaped blocks one on top of another? The object is to make sure that the placement of your block keeps the stack intact, while making it challenging for the next person to add his or her block. The one whose block causes the stack to tumble is labeled “blockhead.” Sometimes in life it feels as if we are all blockheads, for who among us has not felt at one time or another as if life were crumbling before our eyes?
In this morning’s Gospel lesson, many of the followers of Jesus are beginning to fall away, complaining that discipleship is far too demanding. “This teaching is difficult,” they lament. “Who can accept it?” (John 6:60). Truth is, they are beginning to recognize that, should they take Jesus seriously, much will indeed be demanded of them. A new life perspective, a new way of thinking and acting in the world, a new set of values and priorities in life must be embraced, should they align their life story with the unfolding story of God’s love, told afresh by Jesus. But their fear is that, in embracing the new, the old will come crumbling down around them, all will be lost, and they will be seen as blockheads!
Chapter six in John’s Gospel is a lengthy dialogue between Jesus and his followers about discipleship, about what it means to take the risky step of embracing Jesus’ alternative word, a word, he promises, that will bring spirit and life. Jesus invites those who would follow him to eat of his flesh and drink of his blood, figurative language that suggests levels of relationship so close that we willingly deny ourselves, take up a cross, and walk in the spirit of Jesus.
There is an intriguing passage in the book of Ezekiel, in which the prophet hears God telling him to eat a scroll on which are inscribed words of lamentation and woe and mourning, for the people to whom Ezekiel must speak have grown unfaithful. God asks this of Ezekiel, not because the prophet needs more fiber in his diet, but that he might internalize the message he is to proclaim. The word is to become as much a part of him as his heart and lungs, his spirit and life. And that’s our calling as well, to so internalize the message and the spirit of the Scriptures that we act this message out in deeds of justice and compassion, in righteous indignation for the plight of the poor and the oppressed, in a passion for the things that make for peace and for right living and for reconciliation, in lives of gratitude and generosity.
While many of the initial followers of Jesus, John tells us, fall away, the twelve remain, sensing the truth of Jesus’ message, that he does indeed speak words of spirit and of life to them. “Lord, to whom can we go?” asks Simon Peter. “You have the words of eternal life” (6:68).
We too affirm that Jesus has the words of eternal life. Our focus is not upon a slavish adherence to each individual word of Scripture, but rather a seeking of the spirit behind the printed words. In an article about the Bible in The Brethren Encyclopedia, the assertion is made that we “Brethren have emphasized an intrinsic connection between knowing the truth and doing the truth.” An early Brethren tract suggests that “the entire New Testament is written into the heart of the reader by the finger of God until the entire life of the reader becomes a living letter of God in which one can read all the commandments of Jesus.”
This is what it means to enter into conversation with the Scriptures: to ingest the spirit of the Scriptures, particularly the New Testament and the words and example of Jesus; to listen for the proddings of our God; to honor the searchings of one another in the church community and to listen for truth spoken by others; to seek the intrinsic connection between knowing the truth and living the truth; to open ourselves to transforming relationship with the One who embodies eternal and abundant life.
My friends, let us so enter into the conversation that we might together affirm, “This is our story, this is our song, praising our Savior all the day long.” Amen.