Looking for heroes
Commentary
The year was 1934. Times were difficult around the world. Times were especially
difficult in the repressed economic and political climate of post-World War Germany.
But recovery was in sight. A group of theologians at Württemberg saw a rising star of
hope and together penned a declaration of faith that would be signed by 600 pastors of
churches and fourteen theology professors at seminaries.
The promising statement of this group included these words: "We are full of thanks to God that he, as Lord of history, has given us Adolf Hitler, our leader and savior from our difficult lot. We acknowledge that we, with body and soul, are bound and dedicated to the German state and to its Fuhrer."
This is quite astounding, isn't it? In retrospect, we can only shudder at the horrific and demonic twists of history that could produce such unqualified devotion to a man who would later rip God's world apart and destroy, insofar as he was able, both the church and the children of God.
That same year, 1934, Hitler summoned a group of church leaders to his office. Martin Niemöller was among this group of leaders. Niemöller had been a great hero in the German Navy during the previous war, commanding a submarine that caused massive destruction to the Allied fleet. He had been ordained in 1929 and became the beloved pastor of the Church of Jesus Christ at Dahlem, yet he remained an ardent supporter of Hitler, often speaking out in favor of the Fuhrer.
Hitler's meeting began cordially enough. But suddenly, Hermann Goering burst into the room with a charge of treason against Niemöller. Hitler raged in an angry tirade. Finally, he regained his composure and told Niemöller, "You confine yourself to the church. I'll take care of the German people."
But Niemöller stood and quietly replied, "Herr Reichskanzler, you said just now, 'I will take care of the German people.' But we, too, as Christians and churchmen, have a responsibility toward the German people. That responsibility was entrusted to us by God, and neither you nor anyone in this world has the power to take it from us."
Hitler knew a showdown when he saw it. Niemöller went to trial and was convicted of misusing his pulpit for political reasons. Hitler cowardly refused to pardon him, declaring, "It is Niemöller or me."
We need heroes who are willing to stand up to the bullying powers of our world. We need examples of strength and commitment that will steel our nerves, quicken our resolve, and reinforce the godly values that drive us. In today's lectionary passages we have several examples of heroes who can build our courage to live for God.
1 Samuel 17:(1a, 4-11, 19-23) 32-49
The story of David and Goliath is almost too familiar to preach well. Perhaps a fresh entry point would be the idea of boasting which pervades the battle line scene.
Boasting can be an invigorating sport. Two lads found a stray puppy and both wanted to take it home. They finally decided to hold a contest of skills; they would tell fantastic stories, and the bigger liar would get to keep the dog. As they swapped tales, the local pastor walked by and asked what they were up to. When they told him, the pastor said, "Boys, boys! You shouldn't do that! Why, when I was your age, I never told a lie!"
The youngsters looked at each other regretfully. Then the oldest said to the minister, "Well, that's got to be the biggest fib of all. Here's your puppy."
Some people boast out of pride. In his story, "How the Camel Got Its Hump," Rudyard Kipling took a potshot at prideful boasters like Goliath. According to Kipling, when God first created earth and the animals, each was given a unique job. The camel, however, refused to work, and whenever any of the other animals asked for his help, he just said, "Humph!" and walked away.
God saw and began to collect all of the camel's "Humphs" and then dumped them back onto the camel. That, according to Kipling, is how the camel got its hump.
Prideful people are like that, humphing their way through life. Last century people used to say of Mussolini "He could strut sitting down," and "He was a solemn procession of one." The Philistine Goliath was probably a distant relative.
The problem with pride is that it is a deceptive measure. One young boy wanted to know how high he had grown, so he made a ruler and measured himself. He was nine feet tall! When you measure yourself by tools you craft for yourself, you are likely bigger in your own eyes than when seen by those who use an outside standard.
On the other hand, there can also be a good pride, like the pride David showed. He measured himself and others by both the infinity and the love of God (see Psalm 8). And when he assessed the situation with Goliath, he knew who had the power. Certainly not Goliath.
In her novel, Out of Africa, Isak Dineson wrote, "Pride is faith in the idea that God had when he made us. A proud man is conscious of the idea and aspires to it." That may well describe young David on the battlefield while all others were measuring armor. Certainly Phillips Brooks had it right when he said that the way to be humble "is not to stoop until you are smaller than yourself, but to stand at your real height against some higher nature that will show you what the real smallness of your greatness is."
2 Corinthians 6:1-13
The ancient rabbis said that God made Adam out of the dust of the ground so that he would always love the earth and feel the wonder of it in his fingers. Then, because Adam was incomplete by himself, God made Eve to complement him as an equal. God didn't make Eve from his head, said the rabbis, for then she would rule over him. Nor did God make Eve from Adam's feet, because then he would be tempted to always walk over her. Instead God made Eve from one of Adam's ribs, at his side, close to his heart, so that they would know the joy of friendship and partnership.
Certainly that reflects what we know from our own lives. We all need friendship. We need companionship. We need another to stand with us through the struggles of life, to be close to us, to love us and to support us. These are ideas that flow from Paul's pen as he writes this letter to the Corinthian church. It is at least the fourth letter he has written (we only have his second and fourth in our New Testaments as 1 and 2 Corinthians), and each one was forged out of pain and love.
In the lectionary passage for today, Paul rehearses both his love for the church and also his suffering on behalf of the church. He is their hero, in a real sense. He is one who sticks by when all others leave, and who has tried to absorb into his own body the pain that might otherwise come by attacks directed at the church.
It is interesting that Paul begins with this theme in chapter 1 of the letter. Nine times in five verses (1 Corinthians 1:3-7) Paul expresses the idea of "comfort" received and given. Always it is in the context of hardship, and always, as here, it is expression derived first from God. The whole of 2 Corinthians breathes with that idea. In fact, the letter closes with one of the most pointed expressions of the trinity anywhere in the Bible: "May the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all" (2 Corinthians 13:14). It may well be said that Paul's idea of companionship and mutual care is derived from the doctrine of the Trinity.
There have been two major schools of thought on the Trinity over the years of Christian theology. The first uses the psychological analogy to talk about how one person can exist in different expressions -- a man who is a son to parents, husband to spouse, and father to children, all in complete ways, all originating from the same personal identity, yet all unique in interaction. The other way of thinking about the Trinity uses sociological analogies and talks about a single deity that exists as three unique persons (much like we talk of one humanity and many persons, each of whom is fully human). This second way of looking at the Trinity is very enlightening when brought alongside Paul's expressions of care here. If the value and existence at the center of the universe is community, then the fullest expression of human identity, made in the image of God, is care and commitment.
Years ago, a reporter had a happenstance encounter with Henry Ford. Not wanting to miss an opportunity he introduced himself, spoke with admiration, and sought some advice from Ford. In response, Ford asked him a question: "Who is your best friend?"
The reporter wasn't sure how to answer, but Henry Ford was certain. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a scrap of paper and a pencil, and wrote a note, which that reporter kept until his death a few years ago. The note said: "Your best friend is he who brings out the best in you."
This is certainly what Paul had in mind when he told the stories of his suffering on behalf of the Corinthian congregation. He was not merely boasting, but seeking instead to bring out the best in them.
Furthermore, Paul's understanding of how a friend brought out the best in his friend was crafted in the spiritual exercises of faith. For it was Jesus who had first brought out the best in him. The words of Ben E. King, from his song, "Stand By Me," come to mind -- won't be afraid.
Mark 4:35-41
Psychiatrist, Viktor Frankl, often wrote about the meaninglessness of his patients' lives. He was able to sympathize with them in powerful ways because he had spent part of the WWII in a concentration camp. He remembered the dark weeks of 1944 vividly: the numbness of the gray days, the cold sameness of every dreary morning.
Then, like a bolt of bright colors came the stunning whisper that the Allies had landed at Normandy. The push was on. The Germans were running. The tide of the war had turned. "By Christmas we'll be released!" they told each other.
Frankl recalled the changes that took place in the camp: every day the workers went out to their same jobs, but their hearts were lighter and the work seemed a bit easier. Each meal time they peered into the same cauldron of slop, but somehow it seemed less difficult to swallow since every bite was a countdown to freedom. The stress in each barracks community was the same: people fighting for a little privacy, jealousies and dislikes aired in spicy retorts; yet forgiveness came a little easier those days, for the ups and downs of the present dimmed as the promising future came closer.
It was interesting, said Frankl, that fewer people died during those months. Even the weakest ones began to cling tenaciously to life.
But Christmas 1944 passed and the Allied troops never came. There were setbacks and defeats, and the bits of news smuggled into the camp made no more promises. Then, said Frankl, people began to die. No new diseases came into the camp. Rations remained the same. There was no change in working conditions. But people began to die as if some terrible plague had struck. Indeed, it had. It was the plague of hopelessness, the epidemic of despair.
Studies show that we can live forty to sixty days without food, eight to twelve days without water, and maybe three minutes without oxygen. But without hope, we cannot survive even a moment. Without hope, we die. Without hope, there is no reason to wake up in the morning. Without hope, we are like the disciples nearly swamped on the Sea of Galilee -- frightened and overwhelmed by death.
But then comes Jesus! Like the Allied troops that eventually broke open the death camps, Jesus emerges from the clouds and storms of life and breathes into the hearts of his disciples new hope and new courage. Jesus calms the storms, and a true hero is born.
Years ago, when Dr. Arthur Gossip lost his wife and the overwhelming threat of death closed in on him, he recalled Jesus calming the waters of Galilee and he preached a sermon that echoed the themes of Christian's trek toward the Celestial City in Bunyan's The Pilgrim's Progress. Said Dr. Gossip: "Our hearts are very frail, and there are places where the road is very steep and very lonely. Standing in the roaring Jordan, cold with its dreadful chill and very conscious of its terror, of its rushing, I ... call back to you who one day will have your turn to cross it, 'Be of good cheer, my brother, for I feel the bottom and it is sound.' "
That sound bottom, in the surging terrors of life, is found wherever the footprints of Jesus fall.
Application
"Screw your courage to the sticking-place," says Lady Macbeth to her doomed husband in Shakespeare's tragedy, "and we'll not fail." But fail they do, and no amount of courage in the world can save them or turn them into heroes.
Courage is a funny thing. It's a bit like happiness: the more you seek it, the more you demand it, the more you try to call it up, the less it shows its face.
Words can stir us to courage. Who would not rally around the "I have a dream ..." speech delivered by Martin Luther King, Jr., in 1963? Who would not feel stronger listening to the dogged determination of Winston Churchill in the dark days of 1940: "Let us ... brace ourselves to our duty, and so bear ourselves that if the British Empire and its Commonwealth last for a thousand years, men will still say, 'This was their finest hour!' "
Courage thrives best in the company of heroes. David said, in one of his Psalms, "In God I trust; I will not be afraid!" (Psalm 56:10). That was the thought in Dorthea Day's mind when she changed the wording of William Henley's self-centered poem "Invictus" and brought about a testimony for Christian heroes who follow their great hero, Jesus:
Out of the light that dazzles me,
Bright as the sun from pole to pole,
I thank the God I know to be
For Christ, the conqueror of my soul.
Beyond this place of sin and tears
That life with Him! And His the aid,
That, spite the menace of the years,
Keeps, and shall keep, me unafraid.
Since His the sway of circumstance
I will not wince nor cry aloud.
Under the rule which men call chance
My head, with joy, is humbly bowed.
I have no fear though strait the gate;
He cleared from punishment the scroll.
Christ is the Master of my fate;
Christ is the Captain of my soul.
An Alternative Application
1 Samuel 17:(1a, 4-11, 19-23) 32-49. The story of David and Goliath may make a great theme for today's worship. Even though the idea of killing enemies is politically incorrect, there are many more facets of the larger biblical story that make great handles to grasp in communicating this message. First, there is the idea of questioning where God's power is to be found. Is it in the army with the biggest stick (guns, armaments, and the like)? Certainly that was a theme in the world of ancient Israel's day. And it is often found in our own settings. Might makes right. We do because we can.
Second, there is a theme of honor. Can someone boast crudely and not be held to account? It is not only Israel's army that hears the insults of Goliath, but also the nation and God. There must be some form of redressing that honors fairness and the true expression of values in society.
Third, there is salvation history. While the single battle between the Philistines and the Israelites has its consequences, the more important focus ought to be on the purpose for Israel's existence in the land of Canaan. Why should God's people be there? What is the larger witness to be given, and how does that witness become fleshed out in the life of the nation?
These ideas have ready application to nations today, and to the life of the church.
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 9:9-20
There is a well-worn adage that all preachers must endure hearing. It has to do with avoiding politics in the pulpit. It comes from all corners of the faith community and serves to drive the pastor into a somnambulant set of choices when it comes to offering God's Word to the people on the sabbath day. Whatever you do, we are told, keep politics out of it.
In all candor, there is truth to this adage. We are not, if we are faithful to our calling, to bring our own political perspectives with us into the pulpit. If we are Republicans or Democrats or Green, or whatever, it matters not. It is a mistake bordering on idolatry to take our ideological preconceptions and to try to stretch the Holy Scripture over them like it is so much Saran Wrap. We have seen far too much of this in our country, and it needs to stop.
However, with this said, we do need to authentically reclaim our calling to preach the Holy Scriptures. If we live into the Word, and preach from its heart, then we are simply being faithful. If faithfulness has political consequences, if faithful preaching of the Word has implications for how we live our lives out as a people or a nation, then so be it.
This psalm appears to be one of those portions of scripture that, if preached authentically, might have such implications. The writer of this piece did not claim membership in a political party. The pen that scratched out these words didn't do so because of party loyalty. It seems that the stronghold of the oppressed is God. Where else, after all, can they turn? It is the governments of the world that cause the oppression, and they are sinking, we are told, into the pits that they themselves have dug.
If one reads on, the going can get tough. How does this psalm address us a people of faith? How does it speak to us as citizens of a nation for which we pay the bills and step - - or not -- into the voting booth? How does our overarching biblical tradition address this? What exactly is our responsibility to the oppressed and the needy? And this question comes, not to partisans, but to a people of faith. These questions don't emerge from a political campaign or an ideological think tank. They emerge from our traditions and our scripture, from our faith and our prayers.
Let the answers come, then, from these sources. And as we respond in faith, to our faith, let us not worry about the politics. Let us be concerned, instead, with preaching the Word of God faithfully and truthfully as best we have the light. Let the politics of "this world" (1 Corinthians 3:19) stake out its ground and make its claims. But let us root our lives, our hearts, and our actions in God's Word and God's Word alone.
The promising statement of this group included these words: "We are full of thanks to God that he, as Lord of history, has given us Adolf Hitler, our leader and savior from our difficult lot. We acknowledge that we, with body and soul, are bound and dedicated to the German state and to its Fuhrer."
This is quite astounding, isn't it? In retrospect, we can only shudder at the horrific and demonic twists of history that could produce such unqualified devotion to a man who would later rip God's world apart and destroy, insofar as he was able, both the church and the children of God.
That same year, 1934, Hitler summoned a group of church leaders to his office. Martin Niemöller was among this group of leaders. Niemöller had been a great hero in the German Navy during the previous war, commanding a submarine that caused massive destruction to the Allied fleet. He had been ordained in 1929 and became the beloved pastor of the Church of Jesus Christ at Dahlem, yet he remained an ardent supporter of Hitler, often speaking out in favor of the Fuhrer.
Hitler's meeting began cordially enough. But suddenly, Hermann Goering burst into the room with a charge of treason against Niemöller. Hitler raged in an angry tirade. Finally, he regained his composure and told Niemöller, "You confine yourself to the church. I'll take care of the German people."
But Niemöller stood and quietly replied, "Herr Reichskanzler, you said just now, 'I will take care of the German people.' But we, too, as Christians and churchmen, have a responsibility toward the German people. That responsibility was entrusted to us by God, and neither you nor anyone in this world has the power to take it from us."
Hitler knew a showdown when he saw it. Niemöller went to trial and was convicted of misusing his pulpit for political reasons. Hitler cowardly refused to pardon him, declaring, "It is Niemöller or me."
We need heroes who are willing to stand up to the bullying powers of our world. We need examples of strength and commitment that will steel our nerves, quicken our resolve, and reinforce the godly values that drive us. In today's lectionary passages we have several examples of heroes who can build our courage to live for God.
1 Samuel 17:(1a, 4-11, 19-23) 32-49
The story of David and Goliath is almost too familiar to preach well. Perhaps a fresh entry point would be the idea of boasting which pervades the battle line scene.
Boasting can be an invigorating sport. Two lads found a stray puppy and both wanted to take it home. They finally decided to hold a contest of skills; they would tell fantastic stories, and the bigger liar would get to keep the dog. As they swapped tales, the local pastor walked by and asked what they were up to. When they told him, the pastor said, "Boys, boys! You shouldn't do that! Why, when I was your age, I never told a lie!"
The youngsters looked at each other regretfully. Then the oldest said to the minister, "Well, that's got to be the biggest fib of all. Here's your puppy."
Some people boast out of pride. In his story, "How the Camel Got Its Hump," Rudyard Kipling took a potshot at prideful boasters like Goliath. According to Kipling, when God first created earth and the animals, each was given a unique job. The camel, however, refused to work, and whenever any of the other animals asked for his help, he just said, "Humph!" and walked away.
God saw and began to collect all of the camel's "Humphs" and then dumped them back onto the camel. That, according to Kipling, is how the camel got its hump.
Prideful people are like that, humphing their way through life. Last century people used to say of Mussolini "He could strut sitting down," and "He was a solemn procession of one." The Philistine Goliath was probably a distant relative.
The problem with pride is that it is a deceptive measure. One young boy wanted to know how high he had grown, so he made a ruler and measured himself. He was nine feet tall! When you measure yourself by tools you craft for yourself, you are likely bigger in your own eyes than when seen by those who use an outside standard.
On the other hand, there can also be a good pride, like the pride David showed. He measured himself and others by both the infinity and the love of God (see Psalm 8). And when he assessed the situation with Goliath, he knew who had the power. Certainly not Goliath.
In her novel, Out of Africa, Isak Dineson wrote, "Pride is faith in the idea that God had when he made us. A proud man is conscious of the idea and aspires to it." That may well describe young David on the battlefield while all others were measuring armor. Certainly Phillips Brooks had it right when he said that the way to be humble "is not to stoop until you are smaller than yourself, but to stand at your real height against some higher nature that will show you what the real smallness of your greatness is."
2 Corinthians 6:1-13
The ancient rabbis said that God made Adam out of the dust of the ground so that he would always love the earth and feel the wonder of it in his fingers. Then, because Adam was incomplete by himself, God made Eve to complement him as an equal. God didn't make Eve from his head, said the rabbis, for then she would rule over him. Nor did God make Eve from Adam's feet, because then he would be tempted to always walk over her. Instead God made Eve from one of Adam's ribs, at his side, close to his heart, so that they would know the joy of friendship and partnership.
Certainly that reflects what we know from our own lives. We all need friendship. We need companionship. We need another to stand with us through the struggles of life, to be close to us, to love us and to support us. These are ideas that flow from Paul's pen as he writes this letter to the Corinthian church. It is at least the fourth letter he has written (we only have his second and fourth in our New Testaments as 1 and 2 Corinthians), and each one was forged out of pain and love.
In the lectionary passage for today, Paul rehearses both his love for the church and also his suffering on behalf of the church. He is their hero, in a real sense. He is one who sticks by when all others leave, and who has tried to absorb into his own body the pain that might otherwise come by attacks directed at the church.
It is interesting that Paul begins with this theme in chapter 1 of the letter. Nine times in five verses (1 Corinthians 1:3-7) Paul expresses the idea of "comfort" received and given. Always it is in the context of hardship, and always, as here, it is expression derived first from God. The whole of 2 Corinthians breathes with that idea. In fact, the letter closes with one of the most pointed expressions of the trinity anywhere in the Bible: "May the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all" (2 Corinthians 13:14). It may well be said that Paul's idea of companionship and mutual care is derived from the doctrine of the Trinity.
There have been two major schools of thought on the Trinity over the years of Christian theology. The first uses the psychological analogy to talk about how one person can exist in different expressions -- a man who is a son to parents, husband to spouse, and father to children, all in complete ways, all originating from the same personal identity, yet all unique in interaction. The other way of thinking about the Trinity uses sociological analogies and talks about a single deity that exists as three unique persons (much like we talk of one humanity and many persons, each of whom is fully human). This second way of looking at the Trinity is very enlightening when brought alongside Paul's expressions of care here. If the value and existence at the center of the universe is community, then the fullest expression of human identity, made in the image of God, is care and commitment.
Years ago, a reporter had a happenstance encounter with Henry Ford. Not wanting to miss an opportunity he introduced himself, spoke with admiration, and sought some advice from Ford. In response, Ford asked him a question: "Who is your best friend?"
The reporter wasn't sure how to answer, but Henry Ford was certain. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a scrap of paper and a pencil, and wrote a note, which that reporter kept until his death a few years ago. The note said: "Your best friend is he who brings out the best in you."
This is certainly what Paul had in mind when he told the stories of his suffering on behalf of the Corinthian congregation. He was not merely boasting, but seeking instead to bring out the best in them.
Furthermore, Paul's understanding of how a friend brought out the best in his friend was crafted in the spiritual exercises of faith. For it was Jesus who had first brought out the best in him. The words of Ben E. King, from his song, "Stand By Me," come to mind -- won't be afraid.
Mark 4:35-41
Psychiatrist, Viktor Frankl, often wrote about the meaninglessness of his patients' lives. He was able to sympathize with them in powerful ways because he had spent part of the WWII in a concentration camp. He remembered the dark weeks of 1944 vividly: the numbness of the gray days, the cold sameness of every dreary morning.
Then, like a bolt of bright colors came the stunning whisper that the Allies had landed at Normandy. The push was on. The Germans were running. The tide of the war had turned. "By Christmas we'll be released!" they told each other.
Frankl recalled the changes that took place in the camp: every day the workers went out to their same jobs, but their hearts were lighter and the work seemed a bit easier. Each meal time they peered into the same cauldron of slop, but somehow it seemed less difficult to swallow since every bite was a countdown to freedom. The stress in each barracks community was the same: people fighting for a little privacy, jealousies and dislikes aired in spicy retorts; yet forgiveness came a little easier those days, for the ups and downs of the present dimmed as the promising future came closer.
It was interesting, said Frankl, that fewer people died during those months. Even the weakest ones began to cling tenaciously to life.
But Christmas 1944 passed and the Allied troops never came. There were setbacks and defeats, and the bits of news smuggled into the camp made no more promises. Then, said Frankl, people began to die. No new diseases came into the camp. Rations remained the same. There was no change in working conditions. But people began to die as if some terrible plague had struck. Indeed, it had. It was the plague of hopelessness, the epidemic of despair.
Studies show that we can live forty to sixty days without food, eight to twelve days without water, and maybe three minutes without oxygen. But without hope, we cannot survive even a moment. Without hope, we die. Without hope, there is no reason to wake up in the morning. Without hope, we are like the disciples nearly swamped on the Sea of Galilee -- frightened and overwhelmed by death.
But then comes Jesus! Like the Allied troops that eventually broke open the death camps, Jesus emerges from the clouds and storms of life and breathes into the hearts of his disciples new hope and new courage. Jesus calms the storms, and a true hero is born.
Years ago, when Dr. Arthur Gossip lost his wife and the overwhelming threat of death closed in on him, he recalled Jesus calming the waters of Galilee and he preached a sermon that echoed the themes of Christian's trek toward the Celestial City in Bunyan's The Pilgrim's Progress. Said Dr. Gossip: "Our hearts are very frail, and there are places where the road is very steep and very lonely. Standing in the roaring Jordan, cold with its dreadful chill and very conscious of its terror, of its rushing, I ... call back to you who one day will have your turn to cross it, 'Be of good cheer, my brother, for I feel the bottom and it is sound.' "
That sound bottom, in the surging terrors of life, is found wherever the footprints of Jesus fall.
Application
"Screw your courage to the sticking-place," says Lady Macbeth to her doomed husband in Shakespeare's tragedy, "and we'll not fail." But fail they do, and no amount of courage in the world can save them or turn them into heroes.
Courage is a funny thing. It's a bit like happiness: the more you seek it, the more you demand it, the more you try to call it up, the less it shows its face.
Words can stir us to courage. Who would not rally around the "I have a dream ..." speech delivered by Martin Luther King, Jr., in 1963? Who would not feel stronger listening to the dogged determination of Winston Churchill in the dark days of 1940: "Let us ... brace ourselves to our duty, and so bear ourselves that if the British Empire and its Commonwealth last for a thousand years, men will still say, 'This was their finest hour!' "
Courage thrives best in the company of heroes. David said, in one of his Psalms, "In God I trust; I will not be afraid!" (Psalm 56:10). That was the thought in Dorthea Day's mind when she changed the wording of William Henley's self-centered poem "Invictus" and brought about a testimony for Christian heroes who follow their great hero, Jesus:
Out of the light that dazzles me,
Bright as the sun from pole to pole,
I thank the God I know to be
For Christ, the conqueror of my soul.
Beyond this place of sin and tears
That life with Him! And His the aid,
That, spite the menace of the years,
Keeps, and shall keep, me unafraid.
Since His the sway of circumstance
I will not wince nor cry aloud.
Under the rule which men call chance
My head, with joy, is humbly bowed.
I have no fear though strait the gate;
He cleared from punishment the scroll.
Christ is the Master of my fate;
Christ is the Captain of my soul.
An Alternative Application
1 Samuel 17:(1a, 4-11, 19-23) 32-49. The story of David and Goliath may make a great theme for today's worship. Even though the idea of killing enemies is politically incorrect, there are many more facets of the larger biblical story that make great handles to grasp in communicating this message. First, there is the idea of questioning where God's power is to be found. Is it in the army with the biggest stick (guns, armaments, and the like)? Certainly that was a theme in the world of ancient Israel's day. And it is often found in our own settings. Might makes right. We do because we can.
Second, there is a theme of honor. Can someone boast crudely and not be held to account? It is not only Israel's army that hears the insults of Goliath, but also the nation and God. There must be some form of redressing that honors fairness and the true expression of values in society.
Third, there is salvation history. While the single battle between the Philistines and the Israelites has its consequences, the more important focus ought to be on the purpose for Israel's existence in the land of Canaan. Why should God's people be there? What is the larger witness to be given, and how does that witness become fleshed out in the life of the nation?
These ideas have ready application to nations today, and to the life of the church.
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 9:9-20
There is a well-worn adage that all preachers must endure hearing. It has to do with avoiding politics in the pulpit. It comes from all corners of the faith community and serves to drive the pastor into a somnambulant set of choices when it comes to offering God's Word to the people on the sabbath day. Whatever you do, we are told, keep politics out of it.
In all candor, there is truth to this adage. We are not, if we are faithful to our calling, to bring our own political perspectives with us into the pulpit. If we are Republicans or Democrats or Green, or whatever, it matters not. It is a mistake bordering on idolatry to take our ideological preconceptions and to try to stretch the Holy Scripture over them like it is so much Saran Wrap. We have seen far too much of this in our country, and it needs to stop.
However, with this said, we do need to authentically reclaim our calling to preach the Holy Scriptures. If we live into the Word, and preach from its heart, then we are simply being faithful. If faithfulness has political consequences, if faithful preaching of the Word has implications for how we live our lives out as a people or a nation, then so be it.
This psalm appears to be one of those portions of scripture that, if preached authentically, might have such implications. The writer of this piece did not claim membership in a political party. The pen that scratched out these words didn't do so because of party loyalty. It seems that the stronghold of the oppressed is God. Where else, after all, can they turn? It is the governments of the world that cause the oppression, and they are sinking, we are told, into the pits that they themselves have dug.
If one reads on, the going can get tough. How does this psalm address us a people of faith? How does it speak to us as citizens of a nation for which we pay the bills and step - - or not -- into the voting booth? How does our overarching biblical tradition address this? What exactly is our responsibility to the oppressed and the needy? And this question comes, not to partisans, but to a people of faith. These questions don't emerge from a political campaign or an ideological think tank. They emerge from our traditions and our scripture, from our faith and our prayers.
Let the answers come, then, from these sources. And as we respond in faith, to our faith, let us not worry about the politics. Let us be concerned, instead, with preaching the Word of God faithfully and truthfully as best we have the light. Let the politics of "this world" (1 Corinthians 3:19) stake out its ground and make its claims. But let us root our lives, our hearts, and our actions in God's Word and God's Word alone.
