When Grace Does Its Good Work

A sermon delivered by Rev. Dr. Randy Hammer, March 18, 2012

Genesis 33:1-11; 1 Corinthians 15:9-10 NRSV

In a recent issue of the Christian Century magazine, Frank Honeycutt relates a story involving his mother and her sister (who happens to be his favorite aunt).  His mother and aunt recently spied each other across a row of exercise machines at their local YMCA.  After not speaking to one another for almost 20 years, that day when they saw one another at the YMCA they agreed to meet for coffee.  The details of the estrangement, Honeycutt explains, are too many and complex to name.  But after years of praying for his mother and aunt to be reconciled, he had almost given up on their ever getting back together.  But there they were meeting at Starbucks one afternoon enjoying coffee together.  And now they meet there faithfully every week, catching up on the lost years.  Honeycutt poses the question, “What were they thinking in the gym that day when they agreed to meet?”¹

Well, Honeycutt sees in his family story a mirror of the biblical story of Jacob and Esau.  Because, you see, twin brothers Jacob and Esau had not spoken to each other in about 20 years.  In case you need a refresher, there had always been enmity between the two brothers.  One was favored by their mother, and the other was favored by their father.  Since Esau was born a few minutes before Jacob, he was considered the first-born, so to him the birth-right of the first-born son was supposed to fall, which meant a larger portion of the family inheritance.  But Jacob, sly scoundrel that he was, swindled Esau’s birthright from him.  Also, when it came time for their aged, almost-blind, and dying father to bless them, their mother conspired with Jacob and set it up so Jacob would get the blessing that should have gone to Esau.  At least, that is how the story goes. 

So, fearing for his life, Jacob left home and lived in exile for several years.  But then after several years passed, he felt he should return home.  But how would Esau feel about his homecoming?  In advance of his own coming, “greatly afraid and distressed” (Genesis 32:7), Jacob sent great flocks and herds ahead to his brother Esau as a peace offering.  Messengers returned and told Jacob that Esau was coming to meet him, along with 400 men.  Jacob moved his immediate family (15 of them in all) across the river to a place of safety.  And Jacob prayed what Frank Honeycutt calls a “foxhole prayer”: “Deliver me, please, from the hand of my brother, from the hand of Esau, for I am afraid of him; he may come and kill us all . . . “ (32:11). 

Then that night, Jacob lay down and tried to sleep.  But he was restless.  And Jacob tossed and turned, wrestled during the night.  What was he dreaming about?  An angry brother bent on revenge, perhaps.  What was Jacob thinking in those pre-dawn hours just before he was to be reunited with his estranged brother whom he had so wronged time and again? Perhaps that this was this to be his last day to live.  That his brother would kill him and string him up by his heels. 

Well, the next morning, Jacob looked up and saw his brother Esau approaching, along with 400 men.  But instead of marching toward him with sword drawn, Esau came running with outstretched arms.  Esau fell on Jacob’s neck and kissed him and they both wept like children.  This is one of the most beautiful and poignant passages in the entire Bible.  After they have reacquainted themselves with one another and Jacob has introduced his family to Esau, they discuss Jacob’s gifts of livestock that Jacob had sent ahead.  Esau tries to get Jacob to keep it all, but Jacob insists that Esau take it, saying, “Please accept my gift that is brought to you, because God has dealt graciously with me” (33:11).  The word “graciously” is a key word in this passage.  In its original Hebrew it means just what it says: “to be gracious.”  Grace proper is undeserved, unmerited favor.  Grace isn’t something that we can earn for ourselves, but it must be given to us, either by a divine power or another person.  Grace creates a dependence.  In order to receive grace, we depend upon another to give it to us.  Maybe it was that God had been gracious to Jacob.  But if you ask me, the hero in this particular story is Esau, who shows grace to a brother who had never done him anything but wrong. 

Well, in concluding his story about his estranged mother and her sister, Frank Honeycutt notes that the same thing that brought Esau and Jacob back together had done so for his mother and aunt as well.  And it was nothing other than grace.  Grace had done its good work.

Perhaps we’ve all had those special moments in our lives when we’ve been the recipients of grace.  When we felt like Jacob, that God’s grace had come to our rescue.  When some blessing, some form of deliverance, some unexpected miracle almost, swept in and turned things around for us.  In a past issue of UU World, Chance Hunter also writes about grace.  And Chance asks the question, “What is grace?  Grace is getting more than we deserve.”  He goes on to say, in discussing grace from a Universalist perspective, “We receive grace, not because we deserve it, but because the universe is fundamentally a generous place.”²   And as theologian Paul Tillich put it, Grace equals acceptance.  “Simply accept the fact that you are accepted!  If that happens to us, we experience grace.”³  And another one of my favorite contemporary authors, Anne Lamott, confesses, “I do not at all understand the mystery of grace, only that it meets us where we are but does not leave us where it found us.”⁴   “Grace means you’re in a different universe from where you had been stuck, when you had absolutely no way to get there on your own.”⁵   And then you might have guessed that I would have to include at least one thought from poet Mary Oliver on the subject.  Oliver writes, “You can have the other words—chance, luck, coincidence, serendipity.  I’ll take grace.  I don’t know what it is exactly, but I’ll take it.”⁶ 

And then there are those instances of grace in our human relationships.  Perhaps each of us has had the experience when someone—a family member, a close friend, a co-worker, fellow church member—manifested grace toward us at a time when we had failed miserably and didn’t feel that we deserved it.  Perhaps like Jacob, at a time when we were feeling our lowest, grace prevailed.  To cite Anne Lamott again, “Sometimes grace is a ribbon of mountain air that gets in through the cracks. . . .  Sometimes grace works like water wings when you feel you are sinking.”⁷ 

  But taking the idea of grace one step further, the extension of grace to others is a power that each of us holds within our heart.  Just as we depend upon others for grace, others depend upon us for grace as well.  Echoing the actions of Esau toward his brother Jacob, Chance Hunter says, “Grace isn’t just something we receive; it’s also something in our power to give. . . .   We are most like God when we are being graceful to one another.”²  Perhaps it is that for humans to be gracious, we need to have experienced grace ourselves.  I am inclined to believe that for Esau it would have taken an act of grace in his own life for him to be able to let go of the past with all its baggage and hurt and extend arms of grace in brotherly love toward Jacob.  We might ask ourselves who in our lives—our families, our circle of friends, our associates at work, or some other sphere—may be in need of our grace during this Lenten season?

The truth is, the concept of grace is somewhat contrary to American culture where the focus is on the individual, personal achievement, self-sufficiency, and each one looking out for his own interests.  But the thing about grace is it is the great equalizer—it equalizes everyone, since all of us find ourselves in need of grace at some point.

When all is said and done, grace—whether we are recipients of it or the one who gives it—is always a gift, a wonderful gift.  May we, during this Lenten season, open ourselves to the grace that might be revealed to us.  And may we also, like Esau, be willing to let grace do its good work as we find ways to extend grace to others.  Amen.

 

¹Frank G. Honeycutt, Christian Century, March 7, 2012.

²Chance Hunter, UU World, Spring 2011.

³Paul Tillich, The Courage to Be, xxii.

⁴Anne Lamott, Traveling Mercies, 143.

⁵Anne Lamott, Plan B, 54-55.

⁶Mary Oliver, Winter Hours.

⁷Anne Lamott, Grace Eventually: Thoughts on Faith, pp. 20, 50.

 

Does Prayer Change Anything?

A sermon delivered by Rev. Dr. Randy Hammer, March 11, 2012

James 5:13-18

“Prayer changes things.”  At least, a popular bumper sticker says it does.  Does prayer really change things?  That is the question, isn’t it?  And if prayer does indeed change things, what does it change?  What really takes place, what really changes, what turns out any differently when people struggle in prayer?  If we could divide up all the residents of Oak Ridge into two sides—half on one side of the Turnpike and half on the other—asking all those who believe that prayer changes things to stand on the south side and all of those who don’t believe that prayer changes anything to stand on the north side, we might have a pretty evenly divided city.  And I am guessing from my conversations with many of you, we would have a similar division here.  I know some of you believe that prayer changes things, and I know others of you have your doubts. 

And when one prays, is the purpose to change God’s mind and make God do what one feels should be done?  It is easy for us to think that God should answer prayers in the way we choose and as quickly as yesterday.  Such an idea can border on the assumption that we know more about life than God does.  Such an idea could also assume that God can be ‘bullied’ into doing something that [God] really doesn’t want to do.¹   By the way, what one believes about prayer can say a lot about what he or she also believes about God.  The ramifications are many.  So then, if the purpose of prayer might not be to make God do what we want God to do, then what is the purpose of prayer?  And how does prayer change things, if indeed it does? For the sake of goodwill, let’s consider different sides of the issue. 

First, what about the idea that intercessory prayers—prayers that we pray on behalf of others—make no difference at all.   I know many in Oak Ridge fit this category.  And in their defense, a few years ago, the John Templeton Foundation funded a $2.4 million Study of the Therapeutic Effects of Intercessory Prayer.  Now, if you know anything about the John Templeton Foundation, you know it is no fly-by-night organization.  The Templeton Foundation is well-respected the world over, an organization committed to the study of the intersection of religion and science.  A group of heart patients randomly selected from six different hospitals were assigned to one of three groups.  Those in Group 1 were prayed for after being told they might or might not be prayed for.  Those in Group 2 were not prayed for after being told they might or might not be prayed for.  And those in Group 3 were prayed for after being told they definitely would be prayed for.  The results were somewhat surprising.  Supposedly, those who were prayed for not knowing whether they were prayed for or not fared the same as those who were not prayed for.  And those who were prayed for, and knew for sure that they were being prayed for, actually fared worse than those who were not.  At least this is what the study concluded.  Not the conclusion they were expecting or hoping for, I imagine.

Then there are those who firmly believe that intercessory prayer can make a difference.  The poet Alfred, Lord Tennyson said, “More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of.”  In contrast to the Templeton Foundation Study, other studies on the effects of intercessory prayer have revealed just the opposite results.  Such as the ten-month study that was conducted at San Francisco General Hospital in the 1980’s.  The study involved 393 cardiac patients.  Special prayers were said for one half of the patients, and none were said for the other half.  The conclusion was those who did not receive intercessory prayer did not fare as well, showing a higher incidence of needing antibiotics as well as assistance in breathing.² 

Some years ago, the syndicated Atlanta Journal-Constitution humor columnist Lewis Grizzard wrote a column in which he seriously stated, “Prayer brought me back.”  Grizzard had just survived a serious heart surgery.  It was his third open-heart surgery in 11 years.  After the surgery, his heart wasn’t strong enough to function without the help of pumps.  Doctors warned that Grizzard was near death.  They later said it was a miracle that Grizzard had lived from what were the most complicated of complications.  Grizzard attributed his miracle to the prayers of those who prayed for his recovery. 

Many of us have had experiences when after someone prayed for us, or we prayed for someone else, things changed for the better.  Often these experiences might be chalked up to pure coincidence or the power of modern medicine, but sometimes we’re left to wonder if maybe there was more to it than that. 

I will be gut honest with you this morning.  Some days I feel quite convinced that prayer does make a difference.  And then other days I have my doubts.  Maybe many of you feel the same way.  That’s part of being human, I suppose.  But I guess I’m just not quite ready to give up on the idea that prayer might make a difference.  Not that I believe in God as a Being sitting somewhere in a far-off place like television’s Judge Joe Brown hearing cases and deciding which prayers to answer and which to not answer.  But rather, when I hold onto the idea that prayer just might make a difference in the world and in the lives of others, it is more of the idea of tapping into and being in harmony with the Divine-Sacred Energy of the universe that most of us simply call God. 

But to look at prayer another way, for those who may doubt the effects of prayer as far as it having any effect upon the well-being of others, could it be that such people can still find value in the practice of prayer?  I think so.

One definite benefit of honest prayer is the fact that it can change the person who prays.  Many—both conservatives and liberals—agree that prayer benefits the person who prays.  Soren Kierkegaard, 19th century Danish theologian and church reformer, said, “Prayer does not change God but changes him who prays.”  American essayist Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote, “No [one] ever prayed heartily without learning something.”³  Russian novelist Dostoevsky said it in a similar way: “Prayer is an education.”⁴  It is through sincere prayer that we can see a true reflection of the persons we are meant to be.  As we humbly open ourselves to sincere prayer or meditation (if you prefer), then we are changed; we are transformed.  Prayer “polishes the soul.”  “Prayer illumines the soul.”⁵   Or in the words of my favorite contemporary poet, Mary Oliver, prayer “is a dipping oneself toward the light.”⁶    Liberal theologian D.M. Greely wrote, “I do not believe in prayer for special favors, but I do believe in prayer for strength and courage to face the exigencies of life.  Surely the Life Force that brought me into being in the first place can renew or reinforce my mind and heart and conscience in the second place if . . . I attune myself to its reality.”⁷   Let us reaffirm it: prayer has the potential of changing the person who prays.  And if prayer had no other benefit, it would be good.

But there is one more thing: since prayer can change the one who prays, the end result is that prayer can change the course of the world.  You know, I’ve often wondered why Buddhist monks spend so much time in prayer, when the fact is that many Buddhists do not believe in God per se.  If one doesn’t believe in a Higher Power, then why pray?  Perhaps precisely because of what I have just discussed: if prayer can change the person who prays, then that also changes how that person relates to the world.  How would our world be different if ours was a world at prayer?  If each one was praying for self-transformation, as well as for others and their well-being?  If each religion was praying for other religions rather than maligning them?  If each nation was praying for other nations instead of being bent on destroying them?  Don’t you think that if these things were true we would have a much better world?  Prayer, as James presents it in today’s reading, is a communal affair. 

Each of us has his or her own beliefs about the efficacy of prayer, and I am not out to change your way of thinking.  But regardless of what scientific studies may show, individuals and a faith community joined in mutual love and prayer are changed for the better.  So in that regard, if in no other, prayer does change things.  Amen. 

1Sam Young, 1986 Minister’s Manual.  2Larry King, Powerful Prayers, p. 108.   3Emerson, Miscellanies: Nature.  4Dostoevsky, Brothers Karamosov. 5Brother Giles, Little Flowers of St. Francis.   6Mary Oliver, Winter Hours, 108.  7Edgar N. Jackson, Understanding Prayer.

Learning to Love Wastefully

A sermon delivered by Rev. Dr. Randy Hammer, March 4, 2012

John 12:1-8;  Selection from John Shelby Spong

In his book titled A New Christianity for a New World, retired Episcopal Bishop John Shelby Spong states “God is love . . . and we worship this God by loving wastefully.”¹  Indeed, “loving wastefully” is a phrase that keeps popping up throughout the entire book.  And it has become a real sound bite in a lot of what Bishop Spong writes these days.  He goes on to say, “A life defined by love will not seek to protect itself or to justify itself.  It will be content simply to be itself and to give itself away with abandon.”²

As we reflect upon this morning’s gospel reading, it is obvious, I think, that Mary of Bethany loved wastefully.  All four gospels—Matthew, Mark, Luke and John—include some variation of this story, which would indicate that it was considered to be of great importance in the early church.  All gospel writers agree that a devoted follower of Jesus brought a jar of very expensive perfume worth about a year’s wages for a common laborer.  This perfume was poured upon Jesus as an act of love and devotion.  In John’s gospel it is Mary, the sister of Lazarus whom Jesus loved dearly, that performs this act of devotion during the course of a dinner party they had given in Jesus’ honor.   For John, the perfume becomes a foreshadowing and symbol of Jesus’ death and burial that are to soon come to pass.  Perhaps this was the jar of perfume that would have been used to anoint Mary’s own loved ones when they died, since it was often used as burial perfume.  This unusual gesture provoked a complaint.  Judas, as John tells it, saw Mary’s spontaneous act of love as extravagance or careless wastefulness.  “Why was this perfume wasted in this way?” (see Mark 14:4) it was demanded.  Judas failed to see Mary’s act for what it really was—an impulsive, spontaneous “well-meant act of love.”³  It was a lavish gift “offered without consideration of cost.”⁴  “Mary allowed her heart to spill over in a gratitude which she could not hold back.”⁵  In a nutshell, Mary gave boldly of herself to Jesus.  Her act of devotion was not forced, coerced or even asked for.  She did it of her own volition, and she did it out of gratitude and love.

Loving wastefully is the picture of God that Jesus painted for the world.  And during this Lenten season, we are reminded again that Jesus gave his entire life to teaching, touching and giving for the good of others.  John goes on to tell in his gospel how that Jesus himself will wash the feet of his disciples as an extravagant expression of his love for them.  Jesus wasn’t forced to do what he did.  He did it out of love—gladly.  He loved wastefully.

As John’s gospel presents it, loving wastefully is what Christian living is all about.  Love is the hallmark of discipleship in John’s gospel.  Throughout his gospel, John shows that discipleship is defined by acts of wasteful, extravagant love.  For John love is not a feeling. It is being, and it is action.  “To love is to be for another and to act for another, even at cost to oneself.”⁶   We think of someone like Albert Schweitzer, a successful minister and accomplished organist who gave up his ministry and musical aspirations to go into medicine and journey to the jungles of Africa to build a hospital for the native people.  Schweitzer wrote that he wanted to no longer talk about religion but to put “the religion of love” into practice.⁷  In going to the jungles of Africa, Schweitzer loved wastefully. 

Jesus calls us as well to love wastefully those in the world we may have previously not thought about loving.  Jesus calls us to think about our prejudices and to seek to love others as we want to be loved.  {I am reminded of a “Peanuts” cartoon in which Charlie Brown approaches Lucy and says, “Our Sunday school teacher tells us that we must love all humanity.”  In the next frame Lucy says, “I’ve got no problem with that!  I’ll gladly love humanity in general.  It’s the particular people I can’t stand!”  Isn’t that the way with most of us?  It is precisely the particular people that we called us to love.}  Bishop Spong contends, “A new humanity depends on our ability to move beyond the self-centered mentality of survival and into the kind of being that has developed a capacity to love others beyond our own needs—indeed, beyond our own limits.”⁸  One of the primary purposes of the future church, Bishop Spong contends, is “to encourage this selfless love.”  When we really give love to another, it is a true gift; we do not hope to get anything in return. 

Sometimes acts of loving wastefully can be quite elaborate.  For instance, when I was about ten years old, one afternoon my Dad surprised my little brother and me when he came home from work and opened the trunk of his car and unloaded a brand new saddle.  The saddle was black with red trim and the metal was shiny silver.  Forty-seven years later, I can still see and smell that new saddle.  The curious thing was we didn’t have anything to put the saddle on.  We didn’t own a horse or a pony.  Well, before long we saw a cattle truck coming down the road.  The truck backed up to our barn and unloaded a pony.  My brother and I had not had any idea that Mom and Dad had secretly conspired to buy us one.  We had not demanded one, we had not even mentioned one, to my recollection.  So the gift of the pony was not forced or coerced.  It was an unexpected gift of joy, given out of love.  It was an act of loving wastefully.

But practically speaking, loving wastefully doesn’t have to be some elaborate gesture, like giving your child a pony (big things like that didn’t happen in our family very often, by the way.)  Loving wastefully is something we can do every day. Loving wastefully is not so much about the thing that is given as it is about the spirit in which it is given.  One can love wastefully by doing more little things for others like surprising a loved one by taking their car for a wash and interior cleaning.  Or surprising your children with a special night out or an unexpected gift.  Or by surprising your co-workers by taking a box of Krispy Kreme donuts to the office to share.  Or leaving a restaurant server a very gracious tip.

Which reminds me of something that Panera Bread is doing.  Now, I love going to Panera Bread.  I love Panera Bread even more since I learned what they do with all their leftover food at the end of the day.  Do you know what Panera Bread does with all their leftover bread, bagels and such when they close every night?  They donate it to places that feed the hungry.  And then during the night their bakers come in and they start all over again.  The Panera Bread chain has opened a trial “pay what you can” location.  It is called the Panera Cares Café.  In other words, instead of set prices, they have suggested donations for their items.  They ask those who can pay the suggested prices to do so, those who can give a little extra to do so for others who come after them who may not be able to afford the full price, and then for those who can’t afford to donate the suggested amount to give what they can or nothing at all.  The question was, would the café be able to break even?  After the first year of operation, the company found that 60% of customers give the suggested donation, 20% give less or nothing, and 20% give more.  The concept has been so successful that they are opening several more locations around the country.  The point is, the 20% of customers who donate more than the suggested price so others can eat are putting the loving wastefully principle into practice in their everyday lives.  That’s what the Lenten season is all about.   

This past week, we were in a conversation with someone about last Sunday’s sermon about the different things that people sometimes give up for Lent.  And one man said he had decided to give up hard liquor for Lent.  But then he said, “But how does that benefit others?”  And my wife suggested, “Well, you could estimate how much money you save on all that hard liquor and then at the end of Lent donate it to a food pantry.”  And the man’s face lit up and he said, “That’s a great idea.  That’s what I am going to do.” 

Lent is about patterning our lives after the one who gave sacrificially and gave joyfully.  To paraphrase Bishop Spong, the God that we meet in Jesus calls us to live fully, to love wastefully, and to be all that we can be.⁹  And as someone else has said, “there is no waste in love.”¹⁰   The season of Lent invites us to ask ourselves in what ways might we love extravagantly, love wastefully, putting all that we are and all that we can give into loving God and others.  The possibilities are endless! Amen. 

 ¹John Shelby Spong, p. 73.  ²Ibid,  p. 140.  ³Interpreter’s Bible Commentary, p. 654.  ⁴Ibid, p. 655.  ⁵Ibid, p. 654.  ⁶Bishop Charlene Payne Kammerer, Ministers Manual 2003, p. 421.  ⁷Ministers Manual for 2003, p. 424.  ⁸Spong, p. 212.  ⁹Ibid, p. 238.  ¹⁰Interpreter’s Bible Commentary, p. 655.

The Many Facets of Lent

A sermon delivered by Rev. Dr. Randy Hammer, February 26, 2012

Luke 4:1-13

Traditionally, the Tuesday before Ash Wednesday, often called “Fat Tuesday,” which occurred this past week, has been a day of feasting, over-indulgence, and universal gluttony.  Maybe not so much here in Oak Ridge, but in some places of the world Fat Tuesday is a day of merry-making on which carnival people dress in elaborate costumes and make fun.  The American form of this merry-making with which we are all familiar is the Mardi Gras in New Orleans.  And one reason for such merry-making is many Christians have taken advantage of the day before Ash Wednesday as a time to enjoy all those rich, decadent foods and accompanying revelry before beginning the six-week period of self discipline known as “Lent.”  The season of Lent has a long and constant history and has been an important practice in the Christian Church, being observed even earlier than the season of Advent and celebration of Christmas.

The word “Lent” actually comes from an old English word “lencten,” which means “lengthen,” a time of the year when the days begin to lengthen again.  But spiritually speaking, traditionally Lent has been a 40-day period of penitence, soul-searching and spiritual renewal prior to Easter.  The 40 days of Lent commemorate the 40-day fast of Jesus in the wilderness, as spoken of in this morning’s gospel reading.  There is, no doubt, a link between Jesus’ 40-day fast in the wilderness and the 40 years the Hebrews are said to have wandered in the wilderness, and the 40 days Moses was upon Mt. Sinai receiving the Law.

Jesus’ wilderness experience is said to have been a time of temptation and testing prior to beginning his ministry.  Jesus’ ministry began in a struggle, it is said. Testing sometimes can be a good thing—like the one who is tested before being admitted to the bar, being tested before being given that medical degree, being tested before entering graduate school, and so forth.  Testing almost always makes us stronger and better able to face future trials that lie in store for us.  Some people have the naïve notion that once you become a Christian, or because you claim to be religious, your testing is over.  We all know that nothing is further from the truth. 

And so, in remembrance of Jesus’ time of testing in the wilderness, Lent traditionally has been a time for engaging in a number of spiritual disciplines.  Such as fasting as Jesus fasted.  Simply put, to fast is to go without solid food for a certain period of time as a form of spiritual discipline.  Those who practice fasting after the manner of Jesus do so believing that fasting helps one think better, teaches self discipline, underscores one’s dependence upon God, and sensitizes one’s compassion for others who are less fortunate.¹  Fasting as a form of self-sacrifice has been looked upon as cleansing of the human body.    Even followers of world religions other than Christianity practice fasting as a form of self-discipline.

Akin to fasting is giving up something else for Lent.  A question that is commonly heard in some churches (particularly Catholic or Episcopalian) this time of the year is “What are you giving up for Lent?”  It is a given, it is understood that you are giving up something for Lent.  Giving up something during the season of Lent as a form of spiritual discipline is a custom that goes way back.  As the faithful have remembered all that Jesus is said to have given up—during his wilderness experience and during his short life—they have been moved to give up something as well.  Jesus gave up wealth and property, political power and popularity, and the comforts of home and family, in order to do what he felt he was destined to do.  Some of the things that are commonly given up for Lent today include meat (other than fish), chocolate, alcohol, caffeine, tobacco, and sweets of any kind.  (I would have a real problem with at least two of those—chocolate and sweets of any kind, in case you were wondering.)

Some people make use of Lent as a time to give up or rid themselves of what they feel to be “bad habits.” Swearing, watching too much television, playing video games, and so on. Such giving up is commendable.  But the benefits often are limited, generally speaking, to the person who does it.  Wouldn’t it be good if we could give up something for Lent that would benefit others as well as ourselves?  For instance, how about we all determine to give up, as Dale Carnegie suggests in one of his classes, the three negative Cs—complaining, condemning, and criticizing?  Wouldn’t it be wonderful if all of us could give up complaining, condemning and criticizing, if only for six weeks?  While we are at it, how about we give up gossip, bitterness, a grudge we have against someone, or prejudice against those who are not like us? 

In a recent issue of the Christian Century, Lauren Winner writes that this year for Lent she is going to try to give up anxiety and worry.  She confesses that she is a chronic worrier.  She worries that she is going to get the avian flu, that her identity will be stolen, that she has forgotten some crucial appointment and there is a room full of people waiting on her, that she has lost her driver’s license while driving to the airport, that she forgot to turn the stove burner off before leaving the house, and so on.  She writes, “For as long as I can remember, anxiety has been my close companion. . . .  This year I’m giving up anxiety.”²  Giving up worry for Lent is not a bad idea either.

Giving up something for Lent need not be negative in connotation; it can have positive connotations as well.  An alternative option for us during Lent is to fasten onto something good, such as a devotional study or book club.  We began a new Lenten devotional series this past Wednesday night, using William Sloane Coffin’s book, Credo.  No previous experience is required.  Others may feel the need to fasten onto a set time of meditation or spiritual reflection, or devoting more time to communing with God through nature or even journal keeping or poetry writing. 

And then, if we are not inclined to fast and give up some food or drink, we could consider giving up some additional time to the service of others.  Opportunities to volunteer an hour or two each month here at our church are ample.  For those who might prefer giving a few hours to the wider community, they can plug into any number of charitable organizations that our congregation supports—food pantries, ADFAC, Habitat for Humanity, the Ecumenical Storehouse, NHC, Methodist Medical Center, just to name a few possibilities. 

Giving of oneself for the service of others reminds me of a cute story related by a volunteer at Stanford Hospital.  A little girl named Liz was suffering from a rare and serious disease.  Liz’s only chance of recovery appeared to be a blood transfusion from her 5-year-old brother, who had miraculously survived the same illness.  The doctor explained the situation to Liz’s little brother and he asked him if he would be willing to give his blood to his sister.  The little brother hesitated for only a moment before taking a deep breath and saying, “Yes, I’ll do it if it will save Liz.”  As the transfusion progressed, Brother lay in bed next to his sister and smiled, as all present did, when the color began to return to Liz’s cheeks.  Then Brother’s face grew pale and his smile faded.  He looked up at the doctor and asked in a trembling voice, “Will I start to die right away?”  You see, the boy had not understood the complicated process; he thought he was going to have to give his sister all of his blood, which would lead to his own death.  But it was a sacrifice he was willing to make. Well, we are not expected to give blood during Lent.  Although, when you stop to think about it, donating a pint of blood through the American Red Cross might not be a bad Lenten gesture either. 

Well, for those of us who lean toward progressive or liberal Christianity, as we do here at this United Church, Lent can still hold meaning for us. For Lent is about self-improvement, making positive changes in our lives, making a positive difference in the world and the lives of others, and working toward the new life that Easter celebrates.  The good news is positive change is possible for all of us.  And we can all do something to make a positive difference in the world and in the lives of others.  And in that regard, the many facets of Lent can serve to call out the best in us, if we are willing to let it be so.  Amen.

 ¹adapted from Huston Smith.

²Christian Century, Feb. 8, 2012.

Thin Places and Mountaintop Experiences

A sermon delivered by Rev. Dr. Randy Hammer, February 19, 2012

Exodus 34:29-35; Luke 9:28-36

There are some religious sites around the world known as “thin places,” certain geographical places in the world where the earthly and Divine seem to come the closest.  Now, thin places are to be differentiated from mountaintop experiences (as I will speak to momentarily), since “thin places” are actual geographical locations that have been experienced as such.  Some of the most well-known thin places are in Ireland, England, Scotland and Wales.  For some reason, thin places often are associated with wild and rugged landscapes.  Ancient people, especially in Ireland and Britain, were forever designating spaces as sacred, marking them with giant stones and such with the connotation that “this is holy ground.”  Thin places have been defined as “places where the veil between this world and the ‘other world’ is thin, hence the name “thin places.”¹  A place where the veil that separates heaven and earth is lifted and one is able to receive a glimpse of the Sacred.  There is a Celtic saying that “heaven and earth are only three feet apart, but in the thin places that distance is even smaller.”

Then there is what is called a mountaintop religious experience – a spiritual experience we cannot explain or a moment in which we feel we are in the special presence of the Sacred.  It can happen anywhere.  I’ve had a few of those in my lifetime.  One such time for me was my visit to the Holy Land in May 2000.  I recall the early Sunday morning devotional service on the Sea of Galilee, with the waves gently lapping at the side of the boat and the morning sun gleaming on the water.  That truly was a moving experience.  I recall sitting under 2,000-year-old olive trees in the Garden of Gethsemane on a beautiful, peaceful, May afternoon—the same trees tradition says Jesus could have prayed under on the night of his arrest.  That, too, was a spiritual experience.  I recall offering a silent prayer at the Western Wall in Jerusalem’s Old City; and attending ministers’ conferences and spiritual retreats that were also small mountaintop experiences in their own right.

You, perhaps, could name your own spiritual experiences—a baptism, confirmation, being present at the birth of a baby, wedding ceremony, retreat, special worship service, vacation to the mountains, or some other occasion when you felt you were in the presence of something Sacred.  It was a spiritual high for you, a mountaintop experience.  There are those times every now and then when God seems to enter our lives and speak to us.  As preacher Lucy Pratt puts it, these are “times that belong to the soul.”²  I find it interesting that Kimberly Perry, of the popular country group, The Band Perry, stated that the first time they played the Grand Ole Opry, it was a “holy experience.”

The two scripture readings I read today are accounts of such mountaintop experiences.  Now, we are left wondering how much of these two stories we are to interpret literally and how much is symbolic.  Though these two stories are separated by well over a thousand years, they have something in common at the core.  The Exodus passage recounts one such mountaintop experience that Moses had.  After leading the children of Israel out of Egyptian bondage, Moses felt called to climb Sinai, a mountain associated with God’s presence; seen as a “thin place,” perhaps, in that place and time.  “The glory of the Lord,” the scripture says, “rested on Mount Sinai” (24:16).  It was there, in the presence of God, tradition says, that Moses received the Law containing the Ten Commandments.  When Moses came down from the mountain, it is said that his face was shining from being in the Divine presence.  There was a certain glow about him that had not been there before.  Moses was a changed man.  This mountaintop experience of Moses that he shared with the Israelites was a turning point of sorts in Jewish history and theology.  At this point began to develop monotheism, the worship of one God, a departure from the custom of that time and place.  And at the same time, ethical religion began to take shape.  The mountaintop experience was a pivotal point in his life and the life of his people.

Like Matthew and Mark, Luke recounts a similar experience that Jesus had.  As they tell the story, not long before his death, Jesus took Peter, James and John upon a small mountain or hill where he was ‘transfigured’ before them.  What really happened upon that mountain is hard to say.  And, again, we are left wondering how much of it we are to take literally, and how much was meant to be symbolic.  Since all three synoptic gospels include the story, there must have been some type of experience that proved to be a moving experience for those present.  It is said that while Jesus was praying, “the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became dazzling white,” reminiscent of the way the face of Moses had shone after coming down from the mountain (Luke 9:29).  Part of the meaning to be drawn from this story, no doubt, has to do with its connection to the story of Moses and his mountaintop experience.  In the eyes of the early disciples, Jesus was the new and better Moses.  The introduction of Moses and Elijah in the story, who appear to be talking with Jesus, serve to link him with the Jewish Law and Prophets.  At any rate, the experience of Jesus and his inner circle on the mountain became a special event for them that changed their perspective on Jesus and who he was to them. 

Mountaintop experiences can become for us times of great personal change and inner growth, if not in fact a drastic turning point in life.  But some may ask the question, “How do we know what is a true sacred experience and what is merely our interpretation that an experience is sacred?”  I might think of a certain experience as being spiritual or Sacred, and you might not at all.  Perhaps the answer is, “Does it really matter?”  Because if an experience moves us, transforms us, enlivens us, and helps us feel a closer connection to the Mysterious Other or that Divine Energy at the center of life, isn’t that what makes it Sacred?  Maybe a mountaintop experience is when we allow our minds and hearts to be hypersensitive, to let what is always there to intrude into our ordinary, everyday lives.  And isn’t it so that the Sacred can intrude in normal, routine, run-of-the-mill moments of life, if we are open to it?  Such as watching a red-bellied woodpecker feed outside your window, or looking at a full moon through the trees.  As Joseph Campbell observes, “Any place where the Mystery breaks through into our consciousness is holy.”  How many moments of grace, epiphanies, and spiritual insights are lost to us because we are in too much of a hurry to notice them?

But one danger of mountaintop experiences is that we may want to make them the norm. Caught up in a spirit of emotion and joy, Peter exclaimed, “Master, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah” (Luke 9:33).  We’ll just stay here forever.  Peter didn’t want to come down.  But they couldn’t stay up there on the mountaintop.  And neither can we. Though all of us would like for those mountaintop experiences to last forever, we know that cannot be.  If we had read further on in Luke, we would have seen that Jesus and his three disciples descended the mount of transfiguration and returned to a world of sickness and suffering.  No sooner had Jesus stepped off the mountain than the father of a young boy who suffered from epilepsy came to him, begging him for a cure.  The man had taken the boy to the other disciples who were unable to heal him.  The disciples felt all too inadequate for the task.  Moses, likewise, descended Mount Sinai and his religious experience and returned to a world of people and problems.

As did Moses and Jesus, we, too, must eventually leave those mountaintop experiences and return to the world where we encounter people and problems, the poor, lonely and forgotten.  We must return to sick children, difficulties at work, and family disagreements.  And sometimes we, like the disciples, may feel all too inadequate for the task.  But the everyday world is where we are needed.  We must come down and open our eyes and hearts to the sickness and distress around us.  We, like Moses and Jesus and those first disciples, are needed in the real world, a world of poverty, problems and suffering.  This is where God works through us to accomplish the divine purpose.  Christian living doesn’t mean staying on the mountaintop.  It means following, going on, being about living out our faith in the world.  But perhaps spiritual experiences allow us to get back to the real world of demands, problems, and so on and make a greater connection with those around us with whom our lives are so entangled.   

Yes, sometimes we are privileged to have brief spiritual highs where we feel we have touched or have been touched by something Sacred.  We return from such an experience refreshed and renewed.  And we can hold that experience in our hearts and be able to recall it in our minds.  Those rare Sacred experiences and spiritual highs give us grace, strength and determination to do what life calls upon us to do.  Amen. 

¹www.thinplaces.net.    ²Ministers Manual for 2004.

A Dickens of a Sermon

A sermon delivered by Rev. Dr. Randy Hammer, February 12, 2012

Isaiah 58:3-12 GNT; Selection from A Christmas Carol

 A young man in London aspired to be a writer.  But everything in life seemed to be against him.  With only four years of school to his credit, his father in jail because he couldn’t pay his debts, the young man often went to bed hungry.  At the tender age of 12, he was able to secure a job pasting labels on bottles in a rat-infested shoe polish factory warehouse.  He slept in a dismal attic room with two rough boys from the slums.  The young man had so little confidence in his ability to write, that he sneaked out and mailed his first manuscript in the middle of the night so nobody would laugh at him.  Story after story was rejected.  Finally, the day came when one of his stories was accepted for publication.  He wasn’t paid anything for the story, but the editor praised his work.  One editor had given him recognition, showed appreciation.  The young man was so thrilled that he wandered aimlessly around the streets of London with tears rolling down his cheeks.  That one bit of expressed appreciation changed the young man’s whole life and career.  The story just goes to show how words of recognition and appreciation that we might show to others, especially to young people, might serve to change the whole course of their lives.  So let us not withhold words of appreciation and recognition.  We have the power to changes lives!  But back to the story.  You have already guessed the name of the young man in the story, I am sure.  It was Charles Dickens, one of the world’s most beloved writers. 

In case you missed it, the world celebrated (February 7) Charles Dickens’ birthday this past week.  Or the 200^th anniversary of his birthday, at least.  Now, I need to disclose that I am not a Dickens expert.  I have read some of his 15 major novels, but certainly not all of them.  My favorite Dickens work is A Christmas Carol, a story that helped change the way the Christmas holiday is celebrated yet today.  But A Christmas Carol, as we shall see momentarily, is not really about Christmas customs; it is about something much deeper and much more important.  As an aside, Dickens wrote that as A Christmas Carol unfolded as he wrote it, “he wept and laughed, and wept again” as he “walked the black streets of London fifteen or twenty miles many a night when all sober folks had gone to bed.”

There is some more interesting trivia about Charles Dickens that you might be interested in knowing as I lay the foundation for what it was about him (in my opinion, at least) that makes him such an important literary figure.  No other writer has inspired more movie, TV, and stage adaptations of his works.  More than 320 movies—dramas, musicals and cartoons—have been inspired by Dickens’ novels.  All of Dickens’ work was adapted for the stage during his own lifetime, and often he was in the cast himself.  When Dickens came to America for his first reading tour in 1842, he drew huge crowds.  Ticket scalpers worked his appearances like they do today at rock concerts and Super Bowl games.  People flocked around Dickens like he was an idol.  His second American tour attracted more than 100,000 people at his 76 public readings, earning him $95,000, which is equivalent to about $1.5 million in today’s money.  Dickens’ works continue to be reprinted and reprinted, selling in the millions of copies.  In 2010, Oprah Winfrey chose his A Tale of Two Cities and Great Expectations for her book club.¹

But what was it about Dickens the man and his novels that make him sermon worthy?  That is really the question you are asking, isn’t it?  In a nutshell, Dickens was a social reformer in the spirit of the 8^th century BCE Hebrew prophets (Amos and Hosea), Isaiah, and in the spirit of Jesus.  As a biblical aside, the 8^th century BCE Hebrew prophets preached during troubling times.  There was political unrest, religious idolatry, the wealthy taking advantage of the poor, and so on.  And whoever wrote the passage that I read from Isaiah 58 was also a social reformer who prophesied after the Babylonian captivity and exile and the Jews were allowed to return to Jerusalem.  Isaiah believed that his people would be blessed for being careful to see to the needs of the poor, oppressed and downtrodden.  And I suspect he believed that the reverse was just as true: any nation or people that condones or blatantly allows gross oppression or injustice to continue cannot long be blessed.  Eventually that nation will reap the fruits of its injustices.  If nothing else, the downtrodden and oppressed masses will eventually rise up in rebellion and overthrow the government, as has been happening recently in various countries around the world.  So the prophet advocated for the downtrodden and the poor, and spoke out against injustice and oppression.  He was tired of empty religiosity; repeating nice religious words and going through the motions of religion such as prayer and fasting, when at the same time the actions of daily life took no regard of, and even inflicted suffering upon, fellow humans.  Isaiah’s phrase, “you pursue your own interests and oppress your workers” could just as easily have come right out of Dickens’ A Christmas Carol.

Which leads me back to Dickens.  Dickens sympathized with and advocated for the poor and oppressed.  He never lost his interest in and never stopped advocating for those in prisons (remember, his father had been in debtors’ prison), orphanages, and institutions for the insane.  When traveling through the southern United States, Dickens was appalled at the sight of southern slavery and became an outspoken voice for abolition.  And Dickens’ advocacy and efforts to change social injustices and inequities come through in the novels he wrote. 

For instance, as I hinted earlier, A Christmas Carol at the core is not really about Christmas customs.  It is about something much deeper.  A Christmas Carol was a call for society to consider the plight and working conditions of the poor and unlearned.  One of the key passages in A Christmas Carol is early in the work when the ghost of Scrooge’s deceased business partner appears to him.  Scrooge says to Jacob Marley’s ghost, “But you were always a good man of business, Jacob. . .”  To which Marley’s ghost replies, “Business!  Mankind was my business.  The common welfare was my business; charity, mercy, forbearance, and benevolence, were all my business.” 

And then when the Ghost of Christmas Present prepares to leave him, two children, a boy and a girl, are revealed from underneath the Ghost’s robe.  The children are wretched, abject, frightful, hideous, miserable. “Spirit! Are they yours?” Scrooge asks.  “They are Man’s,” said the Spirit.  “This boy is Ignorance.  This girl is Want.  Beware them both.”  In other words, the passage is a call to social reform to see to the needs of the world’s children who are victims of ignorance and want. 

And then the concluding message of A Christmas Carol is a call for the reader to examine his or her own life and make sure that Christmas is being celebrated in the heart and demonstrated through acts of charity and benevolence to the poor.  In the concluding paragraph, Dickens writes, “it was always said of him [Scrooge] that he knew how to keep Christmas well . . .  May that be truly said of us, and all of us!”  Two of Dickens’ other famous quotes are “A day wasted on others is not wasted on one’s self,” and “Charity begins at home, and justice begins next door.”

Well, what can we learn from the life and writings of Charles Dickens?  Could it be that he can serve as an inspiration for all of us to be an advocate for the poor and oppressed wherever we see them?  As Dickens observed the plight of the American slaves in the pre-Civil War South and became an outspoken opponent of slavery and supporter of Abolition, how might we speak out in the spirit of Dickens, and of the prophet Isaiah, today? 

I think that one of the tasks of the church and of religious people is to be able to see social injustices and keep pushing for needed reform until the ideal becomes reality.  That is one of the beauties of the separation of Church and State in our country.  While it is important for the Church to distance itself so that it does not get so enmeshed in the government, the Church can (and often has) push the government to make needed social reforms.  A good example is how churches pushed for needed civil rights change in the 1950’s and 1960’s.  (By the way, as another aside, I often refer to New England Congregationalists, since my ministerial standing comes from within that tradition.  One of the things I appreciate about the Congregational tradition is that the American Congregational Churches have a history of being on the cutting edge of needed social reform—the abolition of slavery, equal education for women and minorities [they founded many colleges to that end], welcoming women into the ordained Christian ministry, equal rights regardless of sexual orientation, and so on.) 

But what the question boils down to for us is how can we as one congregation, and how can we as individuals, be inspired by and live out the social reforming vision of Isaiah, Charles Dickens, and most importantly, Jesus?  There are no easy answers.  And I don’t intend to give you any easy answers today.  But that is the question I would like to leave with us to take home and ponder.  In what places are injustice and oppression most obvious, and where is social reform most needed in our own day?  Amen. 

 ¹Some information gleaned from USA Today, Jan. 31, 2012.

God on the Football Field

A sermon delivered by Rev. Dr. Randy Hammer, February 5, 2012

Philippians 3:12-14 GNT

God, it appears, has found a prominent place on the football field.  But taking God onto the football field, or at least the blending of religion and football, is not really a new thing at all, is it?  Praying before a football game has long been an American tradition.  You may have heard about the Super Bowl quarterback’s wife who sent out an email this past week to some of her friends asking that they pray for him in today’s game.  The email went viral.  And in some American communities, football—whether it be high school, college, or pro-football—can almost become a religion in itself.  Anything to which we devote our chief allegiance and/or our deepest passion can become a god to us.  And for some, football comes pretty close. 

And football players kneeling and bowing their heads to whisper a prayer of thanks after a touchdown certainly is nothing new.  But the practice has taken on a whole new life with the success of Denver Broncos quarterback, Tim Tebow.

Now, I realize that Tim Tebow will not be playing in today’s Super Bowl game.  However, I thought that since today is Super Bowl Sunday, it would be an appropriate time to think about the Tebow phenomenon that is sweeping the country by storm.  The Tebow phenomenon, dubbed “Tebowmania,” causes us to ask why he has become so popular.  If you keep up with football in the least, then you have heard the name Tim Tebow.  If you don’t keep up with football, allow me to enlighten you just a little.  Twenty-four-year-old Tim Tebow is one of the most popular football players in America.  He was voted America’s new favorite athlete in an ESPN poll.  A Heisman Trophy winner, Tebow is good-natured and polite, known for clean living and genuine goodness.  A good, all-around American boy. 

But the thing that really sets Tim Tebow apart is his very public Evangelical Christian faith.  The son of Christian missionaries, Tebow is using his position as the Bronco’s quarterback to promote his Evangelical faith.  Following a touchdown or victory, Tebow genuflects on one knee on the football field, a practice that is being imitated the world over, what Time Magazine calls “Tebowing Round the World”—on the summit of Mount Kilimanjaro, at the Western Wall in Jerusalem, at the Parthenon in Athens, and various other places around the world where people are photographed posing in the exact same way that Tebow does.  Tebow’s Twitter feed spreads his Evangelical message to some 800,000 followers, and his Facebook page reaches about 1.3 million subscribers.¹  In an interview aired this week, one news commentator stated that if you Google Tim Tebow, he is more popular than Jesus Christ—on Google, anyway.  Again, Time Magazine refers to Tebow as “perhaps the most significant Evangelical Christian in the country.”  In one game recently, Tebow threw for exactly 316 yards.  Now, 3:16 has long found a place on posters in football stands.  John 3:16 is a hallmark of Evangelical Christianity—“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.”  So when Tebow recently threw 316 yards in one game, it was taken by many to be a divine sign and gave new life to 3:16.  Tebow himself etched 3:16 in his eye black during a University of Florida game.

Now, I realize that I need to proceed with caution today.  Because it certainly is not my intent to offend anyone with anything I might say.  I think Tim Tebow is a great guy.  But since most people in America are thinking about football today, and since the Tebow phenomenon is such a hot issue right now, I just thought it would be a good opportunity to raise some questions about the intersection of religion and football, and sports in general.  Questions such as:

Does God, the Creator of the universe, have any interest in, take any notice of, or get involved in football?  Or in any type of sports event for that matter?  The larger question, of course, has to do with how we understand God’s involvement in our lives in general.

Is it appropriate for Tim Tebow to use his position for such a public display of his faith?

Is Tim Tebow being blessed with success in his endeavors because of his outspoken Christian testimony, or is Tebow being successful simply because he is using to the best of his abilities the personal gifts and talents that come naturally to him?

What does it say about Tebow being blessed by God when he fails to play a good game or when his team loses? 

Okay, first the question as to whether God has any interest in, or takes notice of, or gets involved in sports, or in our lives in general.  The Knoxville News Sentinel picked up a column by Reg Henry, who writes for the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette.  Henry writes (and these are his words, not mine), “Does the Almighty not have better things to do than decide NFL games, even when one of the quarterbacks goes on bended knee?”  Referring to how the Broncos had defeated his favorite team, the Pittsburgh Steelers, Henry quipped, “It puzzles me further that the Almighty, in his wisdom, might favor the Broncos over the Steelers, who have some excellent praying players of their own.”  Henry raises some good points.  Does God really care who wins on the football field? 

Or switching gears (no pun intended), does God really get involved in another one of America’s quasi religions—stockcar racing?  I am not a racing fan, but I know they used to have prayer before the race began.  And the prayer often included a petition that all the drivers be kept safe from harm.  I have always thought that to be a bit odd.  That men would purposely drive 200 miles an hour, knowing they are putting their own life and the lives of others in mortal danger, and then pray that they be kept safe.  But I digress.  The question is, Is it in the nature of God to take sides or get involved in sports and other such affairs of men and women? 

Could the tendency of some to pray for God’s favor, perhaps even victory, at sporting events and in other arenas, be a carryover from the ancient days of religion when God was seen to be a tribal deity that accompanied a people into battle?  This is sort of the way we want to think of God, isn’t it?  As being on our side—whether that side be in a sporting event, in politics, in religious affiliation, on the battlefield, or anywhere else.  But anytime battle lines are drawn and God is claimed to be on one side or the other, not-so-good things can happen.  Once you claim to have God on your side, you run the risk of feeling justified in doing whatever it takes to accomplish your goal.  But if you see God as being equally concerned and loving toward everyone, then that changes not only how you can accomplish your goals, but what those goals might be.  It is much more difficult to view God as a universal God, who is on everyone’s side.

Second question, Is it appropriate for Tim Tebow to use his position to promote his faith in such a public manner?  Now, as always, there are two sides to the issue.  The first is the side of free speech.  Some say that Tim is just exercising his right of free speech and freedom of religious expression.  But then on the other side, what if Tim Tebow were a Muslim, for instance, and prostrated him as Muslims do when they pray, toward Mecca?  Would that be as acceptable?  Would Americans be as supportive and enthralled?  As a recent article in Sports Illustrated pointed out, Tebow has become “a centerpiece of debate.”  “There is a certain unease [among many] with displaying religious beliefs as outwardly as doth Tebow.”²  But perhaps the greater question is, At what point does the display of religious faith become questionable?

Third question, Is Tim Tebow being blessed with success in his endeavors because of his outspoken Christian testimony, or is Tebow being successful simply because he is using to the best of his abilities the personal gifts and talents that come naturally to him?  As the Sports Illustrated article points out, a recent poll “inquired of fans far and wide and found that 43% of them believed that ‘divine intervention’ had played a role in Tebow’s triumphs.”  In other words, it appears that many believe that Tebow’s game is being blessed because of his faith.  But surely there are other football players who are just as dedicated in their faith, maybe not just as public about it.  So I lean toward the idea that Tebow is successful because he is using to the best of his abilities the personal gifts he has, and maybe because of his positive, can-do attitude.

And the fourth question, What does it say about Tebow being blessed by God when he fails to play a good game or when his team loses?  If God is blessing Tebow because of his public demonstration of faith, then what does it mean when Tebow suffers a loss, as did the Broncos suffer a 45-10 playoff loss to the New England Patriots, who will be playing in today’s Super Bowl instead of the Broncos?  The broader question for all of us is, If God is for us, then why do we suffer trouble and defeat in life?  How do we deal with that?  One wonders if Tim Tebow continues to offer praise, like righteous Job we considered last Sunday, following a defeat as well as a victory.  According to an interview aired this weekend, Tebow claims to be the same person whether he wins or loses.  If that is so, he is to be commended.

So, the questions surrounding the intersection of sports and religion are many, aren’t they?  What I would like to do is draw some conclusions from a broad, religious perspective.  For instance, as noted earlier, we do well to stay away from the idea that God is always on our side.  Regarding speaking publicly of our faith, all of us, I think, probably could stand to do a little more of that.  When I first came here, I was told that one of the mindsets of Oak Ridge is you don’t talk about your faith.  You keep it private.  Well, that’s no way to grow a church.  At the same time, we don’t want to make such a public display of our faith that it makes other people feel pressured or uncomfortable.  From Tim Tebow we can learn the lesson of developing and using to the best of our abilities those personal skills and talents we have been given, as well as having faith and faith in ourselves.  Finally, I think we can learn that even though God is for us—for all of us, none excluded—we can’t always expect God to intervene in our lives to make everything go the way we want it to.  Life just doesn’t work that way.  We don’t always “win the game.”  What each of us can do, as Paul so eloquently puts it in this letter to the Philippians, is do our best, have faith in ourselves, and run with patience and perseverance toward the goal that we set before us.  Amen.                               

1Time Magazine, Jan. 16, 2012.    2Sports Illustrated, Jan. 23, 2012.