A Lament For The City
Children's sermon
Illustration
Preaching
Sermon
Worship
Object:
This week's Immediate Word concerns Jeremiah and his laments over Jerusalem (Lamentations 1:1-6; 3:19-26). We, too, have cities we lament -- most notably New York (recalling the 9/11 attacks) and Baghdad (as we see so few signs of progress for the long-suffering Iraqis). Ironically, Baghdad is quite near Babylon, the city whose armies Jeremiah was anticipating would soon arrive, to lay waste to his own land. How little we have learned, in all those millennia! It is wise to plant our faith seeds carefully and nurture them tenderly to help us heal from our grief. Paul Bresnahan has written the main article this week, Barbara Jurgensen writes the response, and there are illustrations, a worship resource, and a children's sermon.
A Lament for the City
Paul Bresnahan
The Lament is an exquisite literary form that expresses something deep in human experience. There are times when it seems appropriate for a lamentation: such as when we saw the Twin Towers fall in New York. Thousands died. Heroic first responders gave their lives for those that were doomed as well as those who could be saved. The image of those towers gleaming against the clear, blue sky and airplanes hurtling toward them will be forever fixed in our collective memory. And so we lament our loss.
So too those who live in Baghdad; they too grieve a grief too deep for words. The city is in ruins. The Great Museum is all but bereft of her treasures. Explosions kill innocents in the marketplace and, worse still, in the holy shrines. Terrible mistakes are made by the occupation force. A foreign army is misunderstood and resented and its commander in chief seems out of his depth in managing its deployment. We, desperate to support our young people are so divided over whether we know what we're doing there, and on and on it goes without an end in sight.
We will remember Pearl Harbor forever, and certainly our parents and grandparents will never forget. Those of Hiroshima and Nagasaki are swept away with a blast that humankind had never seen before. London's fearful nights and the dreadful incendiary attack against Dresden during World War II also elicit a profound lament from the human soul.
Jerusalem has seen it all too often, and the Walls of Jericho, that ancient city, have fallen at least 28 times if the archeologists are right about the way they read the Tell that is there.
And so, the lamentations of human kind are all too pervasive in history. Can we find a way to sing the songs of our lamentation to God that can bring us hope or do we only find despair in our human experience?
Jesus tells us all we need is the faith of a mustard seed to make the mountains move. Jesus goes one step further. He assures us that we already have enough faith to take us all the way to our deepest hopes. The greatest mountain to be moved is the rock that was moved away from the tomb in which Jesus lay.
Alleluia! The Lord is risen!
The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!
Thus, the Lamentation is written in the human heart and in the heart of God as something to remind us of something larger still. The Lamentation is only one verse in the Song of God. This week let us sing on toward the place where God's hope and ours meet even when it begins with the sorrow of our common Lamentation.
THE WORD
Imagine if you will what it would be like to be taken "en masse" from our homes and placed in slave labor for an enemy under force of arms. Imagine if you will, our faith taken away from us, and our holy places left in a heap of ruins. Imagine generations and generations of our people thus kept for many, many years. That is exactly what did happen to the children of Israel and thus the book of Lamentations came into existence. The prophets were never trusted after that. They were often anti-war activists and were considered unpatriotic.
One after another, the prophets railed against the corruption of the kings of Israel. Each king was a little worse than their predecessor; according to the record of the kings and the theological proclamation of the prophets. And to be faithful to God meant to tell the truth, even if it was at the cost of personal freedom and safety. Jeremiah and a host of prophets were thus quite shabbily treated by their own people. It is remarkable that their writings have reached us.
It was in the crucible of this kind of conflict that the Lament was developed as a literary art form. To be able to be so utterly honest with God in our spirituality, ultimately also assists in the discovery of the grace of hope.
The alternate Psalm for the day, Psalm 137 is another articulate lament, but in this case it culminates in a dreadful imprecation on the enemy.
Happy shall he be who takes your little ones, and dashes them against the rock!
Understandable to be sure; it was entirely likely that Israel's precious little ones were likewise treated. And so, the ethic of an "eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth" was thus proclaimed. But as history's tiresome repetition shows, such an ethic leads only to a world where everyone is blind and all are toothless, as Gandhi so succinctly pointed out in the wisdom and humor of his understanding of the human heart.
Saint Paul urges his people on in his letter to Timothy, with comforting and inspiring words. He is, interestingly enough, quite affirming of the feminine spirituality of Lois and Eunice, which belies his own admiration for those of faith whoever they are. In his better moments, Paul does see that we are one in Christ whether we are slave or free, Jew or Greek, male or female. Even more astutely, Paul encourages us not to succumb to cowardice, but through faith and the laying-on-of-hands to receive a "spirit of power, love and self-discipline." The abolition of death then ultimately gives us heart... courage if you will to profess the faith and to engage the "powers and principalities" with the sprit we have in Christ.
"We are more than conquerors, through him who first loves us." All these echoing phrases come to us in a song of God, whatever fear of terror we face. These are good days for us to remember the courage of Christ and his early followers. We live in an age of fear and terror that will require tremendous courage.
Jesus tells us in today's gospel that it will take but the tiniest seed of faith to move mountains; he goes on to say that we have that faith already, if we read the Greek phraseology correctly. Faith is a gift. It is absolutely free and with it we have conquered death and sin itself. What a gift! As we look to Jesus and ask for more faith, he looks back at us and tells us it is already there, sewn in our hearts by the free gift of his life.
THE WORLD
In the year before the current "Intifada" in the Israeli/Palestinian conflict, I took a group of young people to the Holy Land. We visited a refugee camp outside Bethlehem that has been much in the news in the years since our pilgrimage. Our Palestinian hosts lamented the conditions they lived with on a daily basis. We saw it with our own eyes. Twenty-eight families living with one bathroom, for instance: it made us heartsick. Yet, for sixty years the people have been living thus. Our hosts asked, "Why should we be called on to pay the price for the holocaust?" Our Israeli hosts, on the other hand, spoke of the violence they lived with on a daily basis. Innocent people died in the marketplaces where people did their daily rounds. In the exchange of insult and misunderstanding, accusation, and recrimination, thousands upon thousands die. The heart of God must break that people of faith must live so, and treat each other so.
The last century and now this new one is witness to far too many instances of genocide. What is occurring in Darfur now, as the world watches far too passively, is excruciatingly painful. The tears of the people drench the ground as does too much innocent blood.
In our own experience, we have fought in Vietnam and now twice in the Persian Gulf and very little is resolved or settled. This is not like the Second World War, which seemed to call us together in a way that few other national emergencies have. Now we seem divided by political opportunists who use our conflicted experience to win elections. In an earlier time, folk singers, while not quite developing the literature of lament, did produce a host of anti-war songs.
What we have yet to do is find a way to articulate an honest song to God about the times in which we live. We seem bereft of an honest spirituality. If we could form a lament in our hearts that we could sing with our lips, then perhaps we could find our way to God. If we were to do that, we'd also find another song of hope that would lead us to peace with justice for many.
After 911, we did come together for a little while. Our national leaders gathered as one at the National Cathedral and spoke with one voice. It lasted all too briefly. We seem to have lost our way and our resolve has become diffuse. We are not a united nation. Now conservatives blame liberals; liberals blame conservatives and all the talk show hosts vent their spleens at American people who dare to disagree. What will it take to save the nation?
CRAFTING THE SERMON
It must grieve the heart of God to see the human family behave so. In so many ways and at so many times the very Name of God has been put to use to excuse our inhumanity to one another. Somehow a sense of righteous indignation seems to excuse terror and warfare, bigotry and violence.
It must grieve the heart of God to see the human family behave so. God sent the prophets to preach justice and peace. The very word peace, shalom and salaam, gave birth to the name of God's own holy city Jerusalem. There the holy city sits on Zion's hill with Christians, Jews, and Muslim's claiming her as their very own. Like little children playing "King of the Mountain," we push each other around and shame God's love with our hatred.
Is it any wonder that the Lament has found its way into sacred literature? To be sure, human beings do sing their songs of sorrow, but can you imagine God's song when the blood of those same children spills into the sands and stones of Galilee. We call each other "enemy" like factious and feuding families. We refuse to speak to one another and posture our stiff-necked hatred toward each other. The Lament we sing of our loss is only multiplied as God counts the losses even more exponentially for all the children of the human family are the flesh and blood of God.
Jesus came to give us the ministry of reconciliation. Jesus came to teach us to love our enemies. It is a difficult ministry. It may require the gift of a life. It required the gift of Jesus' life to purchase the price of forgiveness. We are loath to pay the price, aren't we? There are far too many willing to take our lives with glee for us to play into the hand of calumny and cruelty.
Perhaps if we were to sing sooner the song of God, we could find a way to Peace. If we could find a way to an honest articulation of Lamentation, then perhaps God could act. Perhaps God could direct our feet in the pathways of peace by showing us how to talk to one another. Better still perhaps God could help us by teaching us first to listen to one another.
Military action, political power, and diplomatic initiative are all part of a seamless piece when placed in the hands of God. Placing these matters in the hands of God is often the last thought of the expert in these disciplines. We ask God to be on our side and seldom honestly ask if we are on God's side.
It is so easy to blame "the other" through our failure to see the humanity in the flesh and blood of our brothers and sisters. Some may wonder what color God is. Perhaps God is the color of America, or Britain. Others would say that God is the color of Arabia or Judaica. Some say that God is the color of Jesus, Moses, or Muhammad. The laws of the universe that God created must find such parochialism too narrow. God is much, much bigger than any box we may seek to put God into.
God created the whole world according to the creation accounts in Genesis. Therefore, it stands to reason that the color of God is far more diverse in hue than merely one particular color. As God sees the globe, it has no national borders. As God created human beings, there is only one flesh and blood, one heart for all, and one hope for all, and only one love to make everything possible.
When we were in the Holy Land, an old Arabic woman asked us if we knew the color of God. We shrugged our shoulders. She said that the color of God is the color of water. It stands to reason when you think of it. More than 60% of the human body is water. The body is given life by electrical impulses to make the mind and heart work to the glory or the shame of the Creator.
Thus we come to this moment in time and still we need a savior. Moses taught us obedience through the law. The Prophet Muhammad taught us that God is the All Merciful. Jesus taught us that God is the All Loving.
We are a disobedient, unmerciful, and unloving lot because we refuse to listen to those God sent to us. May God have mercy on us ALL!
Perhaps there is time for us to sing the song of God's own heart of sorrow as we mourn the terrible losses that we and God have suffered. If we sing that song with any skill, we will learn to listen to the hope of God for a new tomorrow. Perhaps we will get a glimpse of the Dream of God to take the human hearts of stone and make it a heart of flesh and blood that beats with love for the whole human family.
We are servants of God as the gospel points out. It is our duty to sing our song in such a way that serves God's purposes on the earth. It is our duty. May it be said of us, "We have only done what we ought to have done."
Thank God that the Lament is part of our sacred literature. May it teach us the way to God's broken heart so the healing balm of God may help us sing on to other verses where the hope and love and forgiveness of God gives us all a way to Peace and Justice for all.
ANOTHER VIEW
Barbara Jurgensen
I used to be afraid to complain to God -- about anything.
Any sort of lamentation was, for me, completely out of the question. Because I knew that when God's people, the Israelites, were fleeing from being slaves in the land of Egypt and were trying to make their way to the Promised Land and they complained, God became angry (Numbers 11:1 tells us) and he made their journey that much longer so they'd learn not to do that.
At least, that's what I thought happened.
But it seemed perfectly reasonable to me that they would complain. There they were, out in the middle of nowhere, having to make do with almost nothing. They got tired of having to eat manna, day after day. They got tired of having to live in a strange place, in a dry and barren land. They got tired of having to live out of a suitcase, year after year.
They kept complaining -- moaning and groaning, mumbling and grumbling, mourning, muttering, whimpering, whining. And so the Lord made life even more difficult for them -- or so I thought. I therefore thought that I must never complain about anything.
Now I can see that it isn't quite like that. Now I can see that there are two types of complaining. One is the kind of complaining done by people outside of the faith who are angry about the way things are going and want them to be changed, immediately, to the way they want them. Period. They want their way. Period. They have no relationship with the Lord.
The other is the kind of complaining done by people of faith who want to live their lives as followers of the Lord, but who are encountering great difficulties and need the Lord's help, and are asking him for it.
Is it all right for us to complain to the Lord? Jesus did. On the cross he cried out, "I thirst!" But no one gave him any water to drink. And he cried, "My God! My God! Why have you forsaken me?" God did not come to rescue him, but Jesus needed to cry out, nonetheless.
It's okay to cry out to the Lord when we're going through rough times. He knows what we're thinking anyway, and he cares. It's an act of faith for us to go to the Lord with our problems and cry out for help, trusting that, in his own good time, and in what he knows is the best way, he will help us.
So it's one thing to yell angrily at the Lord when we don't like the way things are going -- and demand that they be made exactly the way we want them. It's a completely different thing -- in fact, it's an act of faith -- to cry out to the Lord and ask for help so that we may live as his people.
Ecclesiastes tells us that there is a time to weep and a time to laugh; a time to mourn and a time to dance (3:4). There are times when it is not only reasonable but necessary for us to lament, times when things in our lives, and in the lives of those we love, and in the world around us become so difficult that we need to cry out to the Lord for help.
Lamentations are not to become the main activity of our life. On the last evening of his life, as Jesus shared the Last Supper with his followers, he knew that the cross awaited him. Yet, as he summed up all he'd been teaching his followers for three years, what words did he use the most? Eight times he told them to rejoice, to be filled with joy (see John 15-17).
Joy is to be our "default setting." Webster's Collegiate Dictionary, Tenth Edition, says that a "default setting" is a selection automatically used by a computer in the absence of a choice made by the user. Joy is to be that setting for us. Our Lord gives us his joy, day by day, and we live in the joy of his presence with us.
There will, however, be times when we will need to lament, when we will need to cry out to the Lord and then take whatever action is appropriate. But then our setting goes back to the grace and love, to the peace and joy that our Lord gives us.
Psalm 30:5 tells us that weeping may linger for the night, but joy comes in the morning.
Tomorrow our brothers and sisters in Canada will be celebrating Thanksgiving (in the US, Thanksgiving will be November 22). Giving thanks is one way we can increase our joy. If we go around saying, "Woe is me; my cup is half empty," our spirits will sag. But if we say, "I'm really fortunate; my cup is half full," we'll be more appreciative of what we do have.
Actually, as followers of Jesus, our cup is always more than half full. The Psalmist reminds us (23:5): "My cup runneth over -- my cup overflows."
We need to lament when necessary, and take the appropriate action. But then we need to remember that we are graced by being able to return to our default setting, to return to the joy of the Lord.
ILLUSTRATIONS
On the Speaking of Faith radio program of American Public Media for July 13, 2006, Holocaust survivor Elie Wiesel shared these details of how he is able to utter laments toward God. He even uses the frank metaphor of "suing" God.
Responding to interviewer Krista Tippett's question about how his faith had changed, in light of the terrible things he has lived through, Wiesel replies:
Mr. Wiesel: Not the Hasidic theory or the Hasidic doctrine or the Hasidic way of life changed. I changed. I changed, meaning not in depth, not in volume. Some people who read my first book, Night, they were convinced that I broke with the faith and broke with God. Not at all. I never divorced God. It is because I believed in God that I was angry at God, and still am. But my faith is tested, wounded, but it's here. So whatever I say, it's always from inside faith, even when I speak the way occasionally I do about the problems I had, questions I had. Within my traditions, you know, it is permitted to question God, even to take Him to task.
Ms. Tippett: Quarrelling with God.
Mr. Wiesel: Yeah, we may. It's even more than that, you know. It is suing God. The expression is really "suing God."
Ms. Tippett: That's the expression in the Hebrew?
Mr. Wiesel: Hebrew, yeah. I sue God because in Hebrew, (speaking Hebrew), I bring him to rabbinic tribunal. And the arguments are all the arguments I take from the Bible and from his words. I mean, I take God's words and say, since You said these words, how is it possible that other things or certain things have happened?... Remember, I belong to a generation that has not learned the way to live, but learned that there are a thousand ways of dying. And as a result, we ask all the questions first. What happened to humanity? What happened to the human race? What happened to human nature? What happened to democracy? What happened to our friends in the world, Roosevelt and -- and all these good questions. At the end of the questions, we cannot avoid saying, and where was He or where are you?
The full interview may be found here:
http://speakingoffaith.publicradio.org/programs/wiesel/index.shtml
***
Commenting on the numerous times when the psalmist asks of God the question, "Why weren't you there when I needed you?" or some variation of it, Lewis Smedes writes:
"... it is a question that came from the heart.
It didn't originate from his left brain. It exploded from his heart. I can tell you that when your life feels as if it is falling apart and you are dangling in the cutting winds of pain and God doesn't lift a finger to help, you don't ask academic questions. Your question is a child's cry from the bottom of the heart.
It is like the cry of a little child whose mommy and daddy have gone away and she fears they won't come back. Last year my son, Charley, and his family moved from California, where we live, to Michigan, where we used to live. As you can imagine, they talked about it a lot at home before the time came for them to pack up and go. Their four-year old daughter, our lovely Emily, listened and wondered and worried about what she heard. One evening, Charley and his beautiful wife, Kim, went out to visit friends and left Emily with a babysitter. Emily went to bed, fell into a deep sleep, then had a bad dream and woke up crying for her mother. But mommy and daddy had not come home yet. So Emily wailed, 'Mummy and Daddy have gone to Michigan and left me alone!'
David's question to God was just like little Emily's cry: God has gone to Michigan and left me dangling here alone. That's a cry of the heart. Where is God and why has He gone away and left me alone?
Whenever a hurting heart cries out Why?, it is a cry that God respects because it deserves to be heard."
-- From Shame And Grace: Healing the Shame We Don't Deserve (Harper, 1994)
***
Anthropologist Loren Eiseley, who drew many important conclusions about human life by observing our cousins, the animals, once learned about the nature of lament by watching the birds.
On a walk through the woods one day, he came upon a raven that was in the process of devouring a baby bird of another species. Around him flew the baby bird's parents, complaining and caterwauling, but unable to attack the much larger raven.
Eisely relates what happened next:
"Suddenly, out of all that area of woodland, a soft sound of complaint began to rise. Into the glade fluttered small birds of half a dozen varieties drawn by the anguished outcries of the tiny parents. No one dared to attack the raven.
But they cried there in some instinctive common misery. The bereaved and the unbereaved. The glade filled with their soft rustling and their cries. They fluttered as though to point their wings at the murderer. There was a dim intangible ethic he had violated, that they knew. He was a bird of death.
And he, the murderer, the black bird at the heart of life, sat on there, glistening in the common light, formidable, unmoving, unperturbed, untouchable.
The sighing died. It was then that I saw the judgment. It was the judgment of life against death. I will never see it again so forcefully presented. I will never hear it again in notes so tragically prolonged. For in the midst of protest, they forgot the violence.
There, in that clearing, the crystal note of a song sparrow lifted hesitantly in the hush. And finally, after painful fluttering, another took the song, and then another, the song passing from one bird to another, doubtfully at first, as though some evil thing were being slowly forgotten.
Till suddenly they took heart and sang from many throats joyously together as birds are known to sing. They sang because life is sweet and sunlight beautiful.
They sang under the brooding shadow of the raven. In simple truth they had forgotten the raven, for they were the singers of life, and not of death."
* * *
Sometimes in our relatively comfort, we are disturbed by the harsh language of lament as expressed in the psalms. The following comment made in my book, Experiencing the Psalms published by Smyth & Helwys may be of help in understanding this.
We must understand the role of hyperbole in expressing our laments. "When we are angry, we often reach for extreme statements to act as a vehicle to carry the full force of our sentiments. A child who is angered by a parent's denial of a privilege may in frustration cry out, 'I hate you, I hate you, and I never want to speak to you again!' At that moment a measured tone and rational speech would be inappropriate forms of expression. Can you imagine a child at such a time saying, 'I choose to be upset at your denial of my wishes even though I am aware that you have my best interests in mind'? That is the child we would want to send to a psychiatrist.
We do the same thing as adults. A wife who is embarrassed by a husband who has had too much to drink one too many times may shout, 'You lousy, no-good drunkard; why I ever agreed to marry you is beyond me. You are the most irresponsible man on earth.' We would not expect a statement of this sort to be scientifically verifiable. Yet this hyperbole conveys a very accurate set of feelings in a way that more rational and measured tones would not." (Experiencing the Psalms, p. 15)
The laments are shouts at the sky trying to convey our hurt, anger, and frustrations. They are not meant to be rationale statements of fact.
* * *
Another example of the importance of uncensored language in our prayers of lament is given by Henri Nouwen in his book, The Road to Daybreak, p. 16-17.
One morning when Jessie was four years old, she found a dead sparrow in front of the living room window. The little bird had killed itself by flying into the glass. When Jessie saw the dead bird, she was both deeply disturbed and very intrigued. She asked her father, "Where is the bird now?" John said he did not know. "Why did it die?" she asked again. "Well," John said hesitantly, "because all birds return to the earth." "Oh," said Jessie, "then we have to bury it." A box was found, the little bird was laid in the box, a paper napkin was added as a shroud, and a few minutes later a little procession was formed with Daddy, Mama, Jessie, and her little sister. Daddy carried the box, Jessie the homemade cross. After a grave was dug and the little sparrow was buried, John put a piece of moss over the grave, and Jessie planted the cross upon it. Then John asked Jessie, "Do you want to say a prayer?" "Yes," replied Jessie firmly, and after having told her baby sister in no uncertain terms to fold her hands, she prayed, "Dear God, we have buried this little sparrow. Now you be good to her or I will kill you, Amen." As they walked home, John said to Jessie, "You didn't have to threaten God." Jessie answered, "I just wanted to be sure."
* * *
Luke 19:41-44 describes Jesus weeping over Jerusalem. It provides an interesting parallel for our reflection on how we weep over the condition of our cities.
"As he came near and saw the city, he wept over it, saying, 'If you, even you, had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace! But now they are hidden from your eyes. Indeed, the days will come upon you, when your enemies will set up ramparts around you and surround you, and hem you in on every side. They will crush you to the ground, you and your children within you, and they will not leave within you one stone upon another; because you did not recognize the time of your visitation from God.' "
* * *
Perhaps the sense of hope in the midst of our laments is captured in a passage from Hosea that reflects the lament that God feels as well. Even when the destruction of our cities reflects the misdeeds of humans, we read in Hosea 11:6, 8-9 the following:
"The sword rages in their cities, it consumes their oracle-priests, and devours because of their schemes." But God responds, "How can I give you up, Ephraim? How can I hand you over, O Israel? How can I make you like Admah? How can I treat you like Zeboim? My heart recoils within me; my compassion grows warm and tender. I will not execute my fierce anger; I will not again destroy Ephraim; for I am God and no moral, the Holy One in your midst, and I will not come in wrath."
* * *
We might also want to remember Jesus' other expression of lament over Jerusalem in Matthew 23:37-38:
"Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing! See, your house is left to you, desolate."
As we offer our laments over the destruction of our cities around the world through the violence of human decisions, perhaps we need to reflect on the pain that we are causing in the heart of God.
* * *
Again drawing from my book on the Psalms, I would offer you a brief liturgy from the psalms in response to a cry of lament.
Leader: O Lord, do not rebuke (us) in your anger, or discipline (us) in your wrath.
People: Be gracious to (us) O Lord, for (we) are languishing; O Lord, heal (us) for (our) bones are shaking with terror.
Leader: (Our) soul is struck with terror.
People: Turn, O Lord, save (our) life; deliver (us) for the sake of your steadfast love.
(From Psalm 6:1-4)
or
"You have turned my mourning into dancing; you have taken off my sackcloth and clothed me with joy, so that my soul may praise you and not be silent. O Lord my God, I will give thanks to you forever."
From Psalm 30:11-12:
From Experiencing the Psalms by Steve McCutchan, p. 9
WORSHIP RESOURCE
Thom Shuman
Call to Worship
Leader: We gather, as God's people,
bringing our fears and pain,
People: knowing that when our spirits
have grown cold,
God rekindles the gift of faith in us.
Leader: We gather, as God's people,
hanging our broken hearts
on the branches of the tree of life.
People: knowing that while friends
may turn against us,
God transforms enemies
into sisters and brothers.
Leader: We gather, as God's people,
hungering for healing and hope,
People: knowing that even when life is no picnic,
God prepares a feast for us.
Prayer of the Day
Singer of Songs:
when we have lost
the melody of your hope,
you reshape the notes of our hearts;
when we can find
no resting place,
you are the lap
that cradles us;
when we are held captive
by our complaints,
you free us for praise.
Seed Planter,
you only did
what you ought to have done:
traveling the empty roads
of our world;
listening to
our midnight cries;
overtaking us
to shoulder our burdens.
Spirit of Love,
as you enter our hearts
to ease our loneliness:
may we not forget
who our protector is;
may we remember the faith
which has been gifted to us;
may we be stewards
of the good treasure that is ours.
God in Community, Holy in One,
we lift our prayers as Jesus taught us,
Our Father...
Call to Reconciliation
Our faith has been placed in our hands
by our parents and grandparents. But we
know we have not always done what we
ought to have done. Let us lift our prayers
to the One who is always ready to place
forgiveness in our hearts.
Unison Prayer of Confession
We stand before you in this moment,
Listening God, and state what you already
know. Our cheeks are carved with the
tears of the pain we have caused. Our
hearts are so empty we cannot comfort
others. Our desires have taken us places
where we cannot sing your praises.
Heart-seeking God, forgive us. Plant a
tiny seed of hope that it might grow into
a bouquet for others. Increase our faith
until it spills over in thanksgiving to you.
Fill us with the love that overwhelms all
our complaints and rekindles our desire
to follow faithfully Jesus Christ, our Lord
and Savior.
(Silence is observed)
Assurance of Pardon
Leader: While are failures and frailty are fresh,
God's grace has been ours before time
began. This is great news -- we are forgiven.
People: Thanks be to God, who has given us the
promise of life in Christ Jesus our Lord! Amen.
Great Prayer of Thanksgiving
Leader: May God be with you.
People: And also with you.
Leader: People of God, lift up your hearts.
People: We lift them to the One
who cradles our hearts in loving hands.
Leader: People of God, let us give thanks
to the God who sets a Table for us.
People: We praise the Lord our God
who welcomes us with open arms.
It is our greatest joy
to sing our songs of praise to you,
Gardener of Creation.
You planted the seeds of faith
in our ancestors
who sought to pass it on to us.
But your gifts of love and self-discipline
found no resting place in our souls.
Your tears washed
the streets of the kingdom
when we abandoned them
to walk the world's lonely paths.
We do not remember who protects us,
and we rely on those false gods
who would lead us into despair's captivity.
But you will not forget us,
or leave us orphaned.
Hearing us crying in the night,
you sent our Hope, Jesus Christ.
Therefore, we lift our voices,
singing our praise with those
in every time, and in every place,
who have been brought out of death's exile
and who forever sing your joy:
Sanctus
Holy are you, Speaker of our hearts,
and blessed is Jesus Christ, Promise of Life.
When we had hung our sols
on the branches of loss,
he handed them back to us,
teaching us the ageless
harmonies of grace.
When the world left us
by the side of the road
like rusty automobiles,
he came to restore us to newness.
Splashing in sin's puddles,
he washed our feet
and dried them with his love,
leading us into the kingdom.
Daughters of despair,
orphans of woe --
he gathers us all up
in his arms of mercy
wiping out death,
and sitting us down
at the family Table.
As we remember his grace and love,
as we dare not forget his sacrifice for us,
we sing of that mystery we call faith:
Memorial Acclamation
Holy Spirit,
as we offer the gifts
of the bread and the cup
for your blessing,
so we present ourselves:
our accomplishments, our failings,
our hopes, our realities.
Make us weak,
so we might rely
on your strength.
As we have heard the Word,
may we listen
to the cries of the poor.
As we are family
with those sitting beside us today,
may we love our sisters and brothers
in every corner of creation.
As you hold out
the bread and the cup to us,
may we reach out to enemies
to clasp hands as friends.
Through Christ, with Christ, in Christ,
in the fellowship of the Spirit,
all honor and glory are yours,
Almighty God,
now and forever. Amen.
CHILDREN'S SERMON
But my faith is so tiny!
Object: a mustard seed
What does it mean to have faith in something? It's when you have a confident belief in something -- it's kind of like trusting. I know a chair will most likely hold me up if I sit down in it. I have faith in the chair. It's really pretty easy to believe, because I've sat in a lot of chairs before. I also think I know how chairs work, so that helps, too. I have big faith in chairs.
Now let me think of something a little harder to believe. I know: I have faith that the sun will rise and set each day. Even though I don't know exactly how that happens, it's been true all my life. There hasn't yet been a day when the sun hasn't risen and set. My faith in the sun isn't as big as my faith in chairs, but my faith is still pretty big.
What about something that's much harder to believe? It's pretty hard for me to believe that Jesus came back from the dead. I don't know how that could happen. I've certainly never seen something like that happen before. It's also hard for me to have faith that God can do a miracle and heal someone who's really sick. I've heard that it happens, but I don't know if I've ever seen it. When it comes to sickness and death, I'd have to say that my faith is pretty small. It's probably about the size of this mustard seed. (hold up the seed for all to see)
But in today's lesson Jesus tells us that a faith this size is all we need. We just need to have some faith -- it doesn't matter if our faith is huge or tiny. We just need some. He'll take care of the rest. Sometimes we just have to believe God even when it doesn't make sense to us. There are some things God knows we will never understand. I guess that's why he is God and we aren't! Our job is to pray, to ask God for help and believe that he can handle whatever comes our way.
Prayer: God, sometimes it's so hard to have faith! Help us trust you and have faith in all you say. You can do anything! Amen.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
The Immediate Word, October 7, 2007, issue.
Copyright 2007 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to The Immediate Word service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons and in worship and classroom settings only. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 517 South Main Street, Lima, Ohio 45804.
A Lament for the City
Paul Bresnahan
The Lament is an exquisite literary form that expresses something deep in human experience. There are times when it seems appropriate for a lamentation: such as when we saw the Twin Towers fall in New York. Thousands died. Heroic first responders gave their lives for those that were doomed as well as those who could be saved. The image of those towers gleaming against the clear, blue sky and airplanes hurtling toward them will be forever fixed in our collective memory. And so we lament our loss.
So too those who live in Baghdad; they too grieve a grief too deep for words. The city is in ruins. The Great Museum is all but bereft of her treasures. Explosions kill innocents in the marketplace and, worse still, in the holy shrines. Terrible mistakes are made by the occupation force. A foreign army is misunderstood and resented and its commander in chief seems out of his depth in managing its deployment. We, desperate to support our young people are so divided over whether we know what we're doing there, and on and on it goes without an end in sight.
We will remember Pearl Harbor forever, and certainly our parents and grandparents will never forget. Those of Hiroshima and Nagasaki are swept away with a blast that humankind had never seen before. London's fearful nights and the dreadful incendiary attack against Dresden during World War II also elicit a profound lament from the human soul.
Jerusalem has seen it all too often, and the Walls of Jericho, that ancient city, have fallen at least 28 times if the archeologists are right about the way they read the Tell that is there.
And so, the lamentations of human kind are all too pervasive in history. Can we find a way to sing the songs of our lamentation to God that can bring us hope or do we only find despair in our human experience?
Jesus tells us all we need is the faith of a mustard seed to make the mountains move. Jesus goes one step further. He assures us that we already have enough faith to take us all the way to our deepest hopes. The greatest mountain to be moved is the rock that was moved away from the tomb in which Jesus lay.
Alleluia! The Lord is risen!
The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!
Thus, the Lamentation is written in the human heart and in the heart of God as something to remind us of something larger still. The Lamentation is only one verse in the Song of God. This week let us sing on toward the place where God's hope and ours meet even when it begins with the sorrow of our common Lamentation.
THE WORD
Imagine if you will what it would be like to be taken "en masse" from our homes and placed in slave labor for an enemy under force of arms. Imagine if you will, our faith taken away from us, and our holy places left in a heap of ruins. Imagine generations and generations of our people thus kept for many, many years. That is exactly what did happen to the children of Israel and thus the book of Lamentations came into existence. The prophets were never trusted after that. They were often anti-war activists and were considered unpatriotic.
One after another, the prophets railed against the corruption of the kings of Israel. Each king was a little worse than their predecessor; according to the record of the kings and the theological proclamation of the prophets. And to be faithful to God meant to tell the truth, even if it was at the cost of personal freedom and safety. Jeremiah and a host of prophets were thus quite shabbily treated by their own people. It is remarkable that their writings have reached us.
It was in the crucible of this kind of conflict that the Lament was developed as a literary art form. To be able to be so utterly honest with God in our spirituality, ultimately also assists in the discovery of the grace of hope.
The alternate Psalm for the day, Psalm 137 is another articulate lament, but in this case it culminates in a dreadful imprecation on the enemy.
Happy shall he be who takes your little ones, and dashes them against the rock!
Understandable to be sure; it was entirely likely that Israel's precious little ones were likewise treated. And so, the ethic of an "eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth" was thus proclaimed. But as history's tiresome repetition shows, such an ethic leads only to a world where everyone is blind and all are toothless, as Gandhi so succinctly pointed out in the wisdom and humor of his understanding of the human heart.
Saint Paul urges his people on in his letter to Timothy, with comforting and inspiring words. He is, interestingly enough, quite affirming of the feminine spirituality of Lois and Eunice, which belies his own admiration for those of faith whoever they are. In his better moments, Paul does see that we are one in Christ whether we are slave or free, Jew or Greek, male or female. Even more astutely, Paul encourages us not to succumb to cowardice, but through faith and the laying-on-of-hands to receive a "spirit of power, love and self-discipline." The abolition of death then ultimately gives us heart... courage if you will to profess the faith and to engage the "powers and principalities" with the sprit we have in Christ.
"We are more than conquerors, through him who first loves us." All these echoing phrases come to us in a song of God, whatever fear of terror we face. These are good days for us to remember the courage of Christ and his early followers. We live in an age of fear and terror that will require tremendous courage.
Jesus tells us in today's gospel that it will take but the tiniest seed of faith to move mountains; he goes on to say that we have that faith already, if we read the Greek phraseology correctly. Faith is a gift. It is absolutely free and with it we have conquered death and sin itself. What a gift! As we look to Jesus and ask for more faith, he looks back at us and tells us it is already there, sewn in our hearts by the free gift of his life.
THE WORLD
In the year before the current "Intifada" in the Israeli/Palestinian conflict, I took a group of young people to the Holy Land. We visited a refugee camp outside Bethlehem that has been much in the news in the years since our pilgrimage. Our Palestinian hosts lamented the conditions they lived with on a daily basis. We saw it with our own eyes. Twenty-eight families living with one bathroom, for instance: it made us heartsick. Yet, for sixty years the people have been living thus. Our hosts asked, "Why should we be called on to pay the price for the holocaust?" Our Israeli hosts, on the other hand, spoke of the violence they lived with on a daily basis. Innocent people died in the marketplaces where people did their daily rounds. In the exchange of insult and misunderstanding, accusation, and recrimination, thousands upon thousands die. The heart of God must break that people of faith must live so, and treat each other so.
The last century and now this new one is witness to far too many instances of genocide. What is occurring in Darfur now, as the world watches far too passively, is excruciatingly painful. The tears of the people drench the ground as does too much innocent blood.
In our own experience, we have fought in Vietnam and now twice in the Persian Gulf and very little is resolved or settled. This is not like the Second World War, which seemed to call us together in a way that few other national emergencies have. Now we seem divided by political opportunists who use our conflicted experience to win elections. In an earlier time, folk singers, while not quite developing the literature of lament, did produce a host of anti-war songs.
What we have yet to do is find a way to articulate an honest song to God about the times in which we live. We seem bereft of an honest spirituality. If we could form a lament in our hearts that we could sing with our lips, then perhaps we could find our way to God. If we were to do that, we'd also find another song of hope that would lead us to peace with justice for many.
After 911, we did come together for a little while. Our national leaders gathered as one at the National Cathedral and spoke with one voice. It lasted all too briefly. We seem to have lost our way and our resolve has become diffuse. We are not a united nation. Now conservatives blame liberals; liberals blame conservatives and all the talk show hosts vent their spleens at American people who dare to disagree. What will it take to save the nation?
CRAFTING THE SERMON
It must grieve the heart of God to see the human family behave so. In so many ways and at so many times the very Name of God has been put to use to excuse our inhumanity to one another. Somehow a sense of righteous indignation seems to excuse terror and warfare, bigotry and violence.
It must grieve the heart of God to see the human family behave so. God sent the prophets to preach justice and peace. The very word peace, shalom and salaam, gave birth to the name of God's own holy city Jerusalem. There the holy city sits on Zion's hill with Christians, Jews, and Muslim's claiming her as their very own. Like little children playing "King of the Mountain," we push each other around and shame God's love with our hatred.
Is it any wonder that the Lament has found its way into sacred literature? To be sure, human beings do sing their songs of sorrow, but can you imagine God's song when the blood of those same children spills into the sands and stones of Galilee. We call each other "enemy" like factious and feuding families. We refuse to speak to one another and posture our stiff-necked hatred toward each other. The Lament we sing of our loss is only multiplied as God counts the losses even more exponentially for all the children of the human family are the flesh and blood of God.
Jesus came to give us the ministry of reconciliation. Jesus came to teach us to love our enemies. It is a difficult ministry. It may require the gift of a life. It required the gift of Jesus' life to purchase the price of forgiveness. We are loath to pay the price, aren't we? There are far too many willing to take our lives with glee for us to play into the hand of calumny and cruelty.
Perhaps if we were to sing sooner the song of God, we could find a way to Peace. If we could find a way to an honest articulation of Lamentation, then perhaps God could act. Perhaps God could direct our feet in the pathways of peace by showing us how to talk to one another. Better still perhaps God could help us by teaching us first to listen to one another.
Military action, political power, and diplomatic initiative are all part of a seamless piece when placed in the hands of God. Placing these matters in the hands of God is often the last thought of the expert in these disciplines. We ask God to be on our side and seldom honestly ask if we are on God's side.
It is so easy to blame "the other" through our failure to see the humanity in the flesh and blood of our brothers and sisters. Some may wonder what color God is. Perhaps God is the color of America, or Britain. Others would say that God is the color of Arabia or Judaica. Some say that God is the color of Jesus, Moses, or Muhammad. The laws of the universe that God created must find such parochialism too narrow. God is much, much bigger than any box we may seek to put God into.
God created the whole world according to the creation accounts in Genesis. Therefore, it stands to reason that the color of God is far more diverse in hue than merely one particular color. As God sees the globe, it has no national borders. As God created human beings, there is only one flesh and blood, one heart for all, and one hope for all, and only one love to make everything possible.
When we were in the Holy Land, an old Arabic woman asked us if we knew the color of God. We shrugged our shoulders. She said that the color of God is the color of water. It stands to reason when you think of it. More than 60% of the human body is water. The body is given life by electrical impulses to make the mind and heart work to the glory or the shame of the Creator.
Thus we come to this moment in time and still we need a savior. Moses taught us obedience through the law. The Prophet Muhammad taught us that God is the All Merciful. Jesus taught us that God is the All Loving.
We are a disobedient, unmerciful, and unloving lot because we refuse to listen to those God sent to us. May God have mercy on us ALL!
Perhaps there is time for us to sing the song of God's own heart of sorrow as we mourn the terrible losses that we and God have suffered. If we sing that song with any skill, we will learn to listen to the hope of God for a new tomorrow. Perhaps we will get a glimpse of the Dream of God to take the human hearts of stone and make it a heart of flesh and blood that beats with love for the whole human family.
We are servants of God as the gospel points out. It is our duty to sing our song in such a way that serves God's purposes on the earth. It is our duty. May it be said of us, "We have only done what we ought to have done."
Thank God that the Lament is part of our sacred literature. May it teach us the way to God's broken heart so the healing balm of God may help us sing on to other verses where the hope and love and forgiveness of God gives us all a way to Peace and Justice for all.
ANOTHER VIEW
Barbara Jurgensen
I used to be afraid to complain to God -- about anything.
Any sort of lamentation was, for me, completely out of the question. Because I knew that when God's people, the Israelites, were fleeing from being slaves in the land of Egypt and were trying to make their way to the Promised Land and they complained, God became angry (Numbers 11:1 tells us) and he made their journey that much longer so they'd learn not to do that.
At least, that's what I thought happened.
But it seemed perfectly reasonable to me that they would complain. There they were, out in the middle of nowhere, having to make do with almost nothing. They got tired of having to eat manna, day after day. They got tired of having to live in a strange place, in a dry and barren land. They got tired of having to live out of a suitcase, year after year.
They kept complaining -- moaning and groaning, mumbling and grumbling, mourning, muttering, whimpering, whining. And so the Lord made life even more difficult for them -- or so I thought. I therefore thought that I must never complain about anything.
Now I can see that it isn't quite like that. Now I can see that there are two types of complaining. One is the kind of complaining done by people outside of the faith who are angry about the way things are going and want them to be changed, immediately, to the way they want them. Period. They want their way. Period. They have no relationship with the Lord.
The other is the kind of complaining done by people of faith who want to live their lives as followers of the Lord, but who are encountering great difficulties and need the Lord's help, and are asking him for it.
Is it all right for us to complain to the Lord? Jesus did. On the cross he cried out, "I thirst!" But no one gave him any water to drink. And he cried, "My God! My God! Why have you forsaken me?" God did not come to rescue him, but Jesus needed to cry out, nonetheless.
It's okay to cry out to the Lord when we're going through rough times. He knows what we're thinking anyway, and he cares. It's an act of faith for us to go to the Lord with our problems and cry out for help, trusting that, in his own good time, and in what he knows is the best way, he will help us.
So it's one thing to yell angrily at the Lord when we don't like the way things are going -- and demand that they be made exactly the way we want them. It's a completely different thing -- in fact, it's an act of faith -- to cry out to the Lord and ask for help so that we may live as his people.
Ecclesiastes tells us that there is a time to weep and a time to laugh; a time to mourn and a time to dance (3:4). There are times when it is not only reasonable but necessary for us to lament, times when things in our lives, and in the lives of those we love, and in the world around us become so difficult that we need to cry out to the Lord for help.
Lamentations are not to become the main activity of our life. On the last evening of his life, as Jesus shared the Last Supper with his followers, he knew that the cross awaited him. Yet, as he summed up all he'd been teaching his followers for three years, what words did he use the most? Eight times he told them to rejoice, to be filled with joy (see John 15-17).
Joy is to be our "default setting." Webster's Collegiate Dictionary, Tenth Edition, says that a "default setting" is a selection automatically used by a computer in the absence of a choice made by the user. Joy is to be that setting for us. Our Lord gives us his joy, day by day, and we live in the joy of his presence with us.
There will, however, be times when we will need to lament, when we will need to cry out to the Lord and then take whatever action is appropriate. But then our setting goes back to the grace and love, to the peace and joy that our Lord gives us.
Psalm 30:5 tells us that weeping may linger for the night, but joy comes in the morning.
Tomorrow our brothers and sisters in Canada will be celebrating Thanksgiving (in the US, Thanksgiving will be November 22). Giving thanks is one way we can increase our joy. If we go around saying, "Woe is me; my cup is half empty," our spirits will sag. But if we say, "I'm really fortunate; my cup is half full," we'll be more appreciative of what we do have.
Actually, as followers of Jesus, our cup is always more than half full. The Psalmist reminds us (23:5): "My cup runneth over -- my cup overflows."
We need to lament when necessary, and take the appropriate action. But then we need to remember that we are graced by being able to return to our default setting, to return to the joy of the Lord.
ILLUSTRATIONS
On the Speaking of Faith radio program of American Public Media for July 13, 2006, Holocaust survivor Elie Wiesel shared these details of how he is able to utter laments toward God. He even uses the frank metaphor of "suing" God.
Responding to interviewer Krista Tippett's question about how his faith had changed, in light of the terrible things he has lived through, Wiesel replies:
Mr. Wiesel: Not the Hasidic theory or the Hasidic doctrine or the Hasidic way of life changed. I changed. I changed, meaning not in depth, not in volume. Some people who read my first book, Night, they were convinced that I broke with the faith and broke with God. Not at all. I never divorced God. It is because I believed in God that I was angry at God, and still am. But my faith is tested, wounded, but it's here. So whatever I say, it's always from inside faith, even when I speak the way occasionally I do about the problems I had, questions I had. Within my traditions, you know, it is permitted to question God, even to take Him to task.
Ms. Tippett: Quarrelling with God.
Mr. Wiesel: Yeah, we may. It's even more than that, you know. It is suing God. The expression is really "suing God."
Ms. Tippett: That's the expression in the Hebrew?
Mr. Wiesel: Hebrew, yeah. I sue God because in Hebrew, (speaking Hebrew), I bring him to rabbinic tribunal. And the arguments are all the arguments I take from the Bible and from his words. I mean, I take God's words and say, since You said these words, how is it possible that other things or certain things have happened?... Remember, I belong to a generation that has not learned the way to live, but learned that there are a thousand ways of dying. And as a result, we ask all the questions first. What happened to humanity? What happened to the human race? What happened to human nature? What happened to democracy? What happened to our friends in the world, Roosevelt and -- and all these good questions. At the end of the questions, we cannot avoid saying, and where was He or where are you?
The full interview may be found here:
http://speakingoffaith.publicradio.org/programs/wiesel/index.shtml
***
Commenting on the numerous times when the psalmist asks of God the question, "Why weren't you there when I needed you?" or some variation of it, Lewis Smedes writes:
"... it is a question that came from the heart.
It didn't originate from his left brain. It exploded from his heart. I can tell you that when your life feels as if it is falling apart and you are dangling in the cutting winds of pain and God doesn't lift a finger to help, you don't ask academic questions. Your question is a child's cry from the bottom of the heart.
It is like the cry of a little child whose mommy and daddy have gone away and she fears they won't come back. Last year my son, Charley, and his family moved from California, where we live, to Michigan, where we used to live. As you can imagine, they talked about it a lot at home before the time came for them to pack up and go. Their four-year old daughter, our lovely Emily, listened and wondered and worried about what she heard. One evening, Charley and his beautiful wife, Kim, went out to visit friends and left Emily with a babysitter. Emily went to bed, fell into a deep sleep, then had a bad dream and woke up crying for her mother. But mommy and daddy had not come home yet. So Emily wailed, 'Mummy and Daddy have gone to Michigan and left me alone!'
David's question to God was just like little Emily's cry: God has gone to Michigan and left me dangling here alone. That's a cry of the heart. Where is God and why has He gone away and left me alone?
Whenever a hurting heart cries out Why?, it is a cry that God respects because it deserves to be heard."
-- From Shame And Grace: Healing the Shame We Don't Deserve (Harper, 1994)
***
Anthropologist Loren Eiseley, who drew many important conclusions about human life by observing our cousins, the animals, once learned about the nature of lament by watching the birds.
On a walk through the woods one day, he came upon a raven that was in the process of devouring a baby bird of another species. Around him flew the baby bird's parents, complaining and caterwauling, but unable to attack the much larger raven.
Eisely relates what happened next:
"Suddenly, out of all that area of woodland, a soft sound of complaint began to rise. Into the glade fluttered small birds of half a dozen varieties drawn by the anguished outcries of the tiny parents. No one dared to attack the raven.
But they cried there in some instinctive common misery. The bereaved and the unbereaved. The glade filled with their soft rustling and their cries. They fluttered as though to point their wings at the murderer. There was a dim intangible ethic he had violated, that they knew. He was a bird of death.
And he, the murderer, the black bird at the heart of life, sat on there, glistening in the common light, formidable, unmoving, unperturbed, untouchable.
The sighing died. It was then that I saw the judgment. It was the judgment of life against death. I will never see it again so forcefully presented. I will never hear it again in notes so tragically prolonged. For in the midst of protest, they forgot the violence.
There, in that clearing, the crystal note of a song sparrow lifted hesitantly in the hush. And finally, after painful fluttering, another took the song, and then another, the song passing from one bird to another, doubtfully at first, as though some evil thing were being slowly forgotten.
Till suddenly they took heart and sang from many throats joyously together as birds are known to sing. They sang because life is sweet and sunlight beautiful.
They sang under the brooding shadow of the raven. In simple truth they had forgotten the raven, for they were the singers of life, and not of death."
* * *
Sometimes in our relatively comfort, we are disturbed by the harsh language of lament as expressed in the psalms. The following comment made in my book, Experiencing the Psalms published by Smyth & Helwys may be of help in understanding this.
We must understand the role of hyperbole in expressing our laments. "When we are angry, we often reach for extreme statements to act as a vehicle to carry the full force of our sentiments. A child who is angered by a parent's denial of a privilege may in frustration cry out, 'I hate you, I hate you, and I never want to speak to you again!' At that moment a measured tone and rational speech would be inappropriate forms of expression. Can you imagine a child at such a time saying, 'I choose to be upset at your denial of my wishes even though I am aware that you have my best interests in mind'? That is the child we would want to send to a psychiatrist.
We do the same thing as adults. A wife who is embarrassed by a husband who has had too much to drink one too many times may shout, 'You lousy, no-good drunkard; why I ever agreed to marry you is beyond me. You are the most irresponsible man on earth.' We would not expect a statement of this sort to be scientifically verifiable. Yet this hyperbole conveys a very accurate set of feelings in a way that more rational and measured tones would not." (Experiencing the Psalms, p. 15)
The laments are shouts at the sky trying to convey our hurt, anger, and frustrations. They are not meant to be rationale statements of fact.
* * *
Another example of the importance of uncensored language in our prayers of lament is given by Henri Nouwen in his book, The Road to Daybreak, p. 16-17.
One morning when Jessie was four years old, she found a dead sparrow in front of the living room window. The little bird had killed itself by flying into the glass. When Jessie saw the dead bird, she was both deeply disturbed and very intrigued. She asked her father, "Where is the bird now?" John said he did not know. "Why did it die?" she asked again. "Well," John said hesitantly, "because all birds return to the earth." "Oh," said Jessie, "then we have to bury it." A box was found, the little bird was laid in the box, a paper napkin was added as a shroud, and a few minutes later a little procession was formed with Daddy, Mama, Jessie, and her little sister. Daddy carried the box, Jessie the homemade cross. After a grave was dug and the little sparrow was buried, John put a piece of moss over the grave, and Jessie planted the cross upon it. Then John asked Jessie, "Do you want to say a prayer?" "Yes," replied Jessie firmly, and after having told her baby sister in no uncertain terms to fold her hands, she prayed, "Dear God, we have buried this little sparrow. Now you be good to her or I will kill you, Amen." As they walked home, John said to Jessie, "You didn't have to threaten God." Jessie answered, "I just wanted to be sure."
* * *
Luke 19:41-44 describes Jesus weeping over Jerusalem. It provides an interesting parallel for our reflection on how we weep over the condition of our cities.
"As he came near and saw the city, he wept over it, saying, 'If you, even you, had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace! But now they are hidden from your eyes. Indeed, the days will come upon you, when your enemies will set up ramparts around you and surround you, and hem you in on every side. They will crush you to the ground, you and your children within you, and they will not leave within you one stone upon another; because you did not recognize the time of your visitation from God.' "
* * *
Perhaps the sense of hope in the midst of our laments is captured in a passage from Hosea that reflects the lament that God feels as well. Even when the destruction of our cities reflects the misdeeds of humans, we read in Hosea 11:6, 8-9 the following:
"The sword rages in their cities, it consumes their oracle-priests, and devours because of their schemes." But God responds, "How can I give you up, Ephraim? How can I hand you over, O Israel? How can I make you like Admah? How can I treat you like Zeboim? My heart recoils within me; my compassion grows warm and tender. I will not execute my fierce anger; I will not again destroy Ephraim; for I am God and no moral, the Holy One in your midst, and I will not come in wrath."
* * *
We might also want to remember Jesus' other expression of lament over Jerusalem in Matthew 23:37-38:
"Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing! See, your house is left to you, desolate."
As we offer our laments over the destruction of our cities around the world through the violence of human decisions, perhaps we need to reflect on the pain that we are causing in the heart of God.
* * *
Again drawing from my book on the Psalms, I would offer you a brief liturgy from the psalms in response to a cry of lament.
Leader: O Lord, do not rebuke (us) in your anger, or discipline (us) in your wrath.
People: Be gracious to (us) O Lord, for (we) are languishing; O Lord, heal (us) for (our) bones are shaking with terror.
Leader: (Our) soul is struck with terror.
People: Turn, O Lord, save (our) life; deliver (us) for the sake of your steadfast love.
(From Psalm 6:1-4)
or
"You have turned my mourning into dancing; you have taken off my sackcloth and clothed me with joy, so that my soul may praise you and not be silent. O Lord my God, I will give thanks to you forever."
From Psalm 30:11-12:
From Experiencing the Psalms by Steve McCutchan, p. 9
WORSHIP RESOURCE
Thom Shuman
Call to Worship
Leader: We gather, as God's people,
bringing our fears and pain,
People: knowing that when our spirits
have grown cold,
God rekindles the gift of faith in us.
Leader: We gather, as God's people,
hanging our broken hearts
on the branches of the tree of life.
People: knowing that while friends
may turn against us,
God transforms enemies
into sisters and brothers.
Leader: We gather, as God's people,
hungering for healing and hope,
People: knowing that even when life is no picnic,
God prepares a feast for us.
Prayer of the Day
Singer of Songs:
when we have lost
the melody of your hope,
you reshape the notes of our hearts;
when we can find
no resting place,
you are the lap
that cradles us;
when we are held captive
by our complaints,
you free us for praise.
Seed Planter,
you only did
what you ought to have done:
traveling the empty roads
of our world;
listening to
our midnight cries;
overtaking us
to shoulder our burdens.
Spirit of Love,
as you enter our hearts
to ease our loneliness:
may we not forget
who our protector is;
may we remember the faith
which has been gifted to us;
may we be stewards
of the good treasure that is ours.
God in Community, Holy in One,
we lift our prayers as Jesus taught us,
Our Father...
Call to Reconciliation
Our faith has been placed in our hands
by our parents and grandparents. But we
know we have not always done what we
ought to have done. Let us lift our prayers
to the One who is always ready to place
forgiveness in our hearts.
Unison Prayer of Confession
We stand before you in this moment,
Listening God, and state what you already
know. Our cheeks are carved with the
tears of the pain we have caused. Our
hearts are so empty we cannot comfort
others. Our desires have taken us places
where we cannot sing your praises.
Heart-seeking God, forgive us. Plant a
tiny seed of hope that it might grow into
a bouquet for others. Increase our faith
until it spills over in thanksgiving to you.
Fill us with the love that overwhelms all
our complaints and rekindles our desire
to follow faithfully Jesus Christ, our Lord
and Savior.
(Silence is observed)
Assurance of Pardon
Leader: While are failures and frailty are fresh,
God's grace has been ours before time
began. This is great news -- we are forgiven.
People: Thanks be to God, who has given us the
promise of life in Christ Jesus our Lord! Amen.
Great Prayer of Thanksgiving
Leader: May God be with you.
People: And also with you.
Leader: People of God, lift up your hearts.
People: We lift them to the One
who cradles our hearts in loving hands.
Leader: People of God, let us give thanks
to the God who sets a Table for us.
People: We praise the Lord our God
who welcomes us with open arms.
It is our greatest joy
to sing our songs of praise to you,
Gardener of Creation.
You planted the seeds of faith
in our ancestors
who sought to pass it on to us.
But your gifts of love and self-discipline
found no resting place in our souls.
Your tears washed
the streets of the kingdom
when we abandoned them
to walk the world's lonely paths.
We do not remember who protects us,
and we rely on those false gods
who would lead us into despair's captivity.
But you will not forget us,
or leave us orphaned.
Hearing us crying in the night,
you sent our Hope, Jesus Christ.
Therefore, we lift our voices,
singing our praise with those
in every time, and in every place,
who have been brought out of death's exile
and who forever sing your joy:
Sanctus
Holy are you, Speaker of our hearts,
and blessed is Jesus Christ, Promise of Life.
When we had hung our sols
on the branches of loss,
he handed them back to us,
teaching us the ageless
harmonies of grace.
When the world left us
by the side of the road
like rusty automobiles,
he came to restore us to newness.
Splashing in sin's puddles,
he washed our feet
and dried them with his love,
leading us into the kingdom.
Daughters of despair,
orphans of woe --
he gathers us all up
in his arms of mercy
wiping out death,
and sitting us down
at the family Table.
As we remember his grace and love,
as we dare not forget his sacrifice for us,
we sing of that mystery we call faith:
Memorial Acclamation
Holy Spirit,
as we offer the gifts
of the bread and the cup
for your blessing,
so we present ourselves:
our accomplishments, our failings,
our hopes, our realities.
Make us weak,
so we might rely
on your strength.
As we have heard the Word,
may we listen
to the cries of the poor.
As we are family
with those sitting beside us today,
may we love our sisters and brothers
in every corner of creation.
As you hold out
the bread and the cup to us,
may we reach out to enemies
to clasp hands as friends.
Through Christ, with Christ, in Christ,
in the fellowship of the Spirit,
all honor and glory are yours,
Almighty God,
now and forever. Amen.
CHILDREN'S SERMON
But my faith is so tiny!
Object: a mustard seed
What does it mean to have faith in something? It's when you have a confident belief in something -- it's kind of like trusting. I know a chair will most likely hold me up if I sit down in it. I have faith in the chair. It's really pretty easy to believe, because I've sat in a lot of chairs before. I also think I know how chairs work, so that helps, too. I have big faith in chairs.
Now let me think of something a little harder to believe. I know: I have faith that the sun will rise and set each day. Even though I don't know exactly how that happens, it's been true all my life. There hasn't yet been a day when the sun hasn't risen and set. My faith in the sun isn't as big as my faith in chairs, but my faith is still pretty big.
What about something that's much harder to believe? It's pretty hard for me to believe that Jesus came back from the dead. I don't know how that could happen. I've certainly never seen something like that happen before. It's also hard for me to have faith that God can do a miracle and heal someone who's really sick. I've heard that it happens, but I don't know if I've ever seen it. When it comes to sickness and death, I'd have to say that my faith is pretty small. It's probably about the size of this mustard seed. (hold up the seed for all to see)
But in today's lesson Jesus tells us that a faith this size is all we need. We just need to have some faith -- it doesn't matter if our faith is huge or tiny. We just need some. He'll take care of the rest. Sometimes we just have to believe God even when it doesn't make sense to us. There are some things God knows we will never understand. I guess that's why he is God and we aren't! Our job is to pray, to ask God for help and believe that he can handle whatever comes our way.
Prayer: God, sometimes it's so hard to have faith! Help us trust you and have faith in all you say. You can do anything! Amen.
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The Immediate Word, October 7, 2007, issue.
Copyright 2007 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to The Immediate Word service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons and in worship and classroom settings only. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 517 South Main Street, Lima, Ohio 45804.
