Sticks And Stones
Sermon
Journey Of Stones
A Sermon Series For Lent And Easter
Dear friends in Christ, grace, mercy, and peace, from God our Father and his Son, our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.
This evening I need the help of the children in our congregation. You may stay seated where you are, but I need your help in remembering some of the playground phrases that you might chant with your friends, or even say to your enemies, as children your age sometimes do. When you hear me begin a familiar one, just join in and say it with me. The louder the better!
Liar, liar, pants on fire. Nose as long as a telephone wire.
How about this one: John and Linda, sittin' in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love, then comes marriage. Then comes Linda with a baby carriage.
Maybe your parents will have to help you with this one: it's old -- ancient -- and you may not have heard of it before: Made you look. Made you look. Made you buy a penny-book. I'm not even sure what a "penny-book" is, but I am certain that you can't buy it for a penny anymore.
We want a pitcher, not a belly-itcher.
And then there's this one: Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me.
Most of the playground phrases of children have a ring of truth to them ... except that last one. "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me." We know, from our own experience, that criticism can hurt us deeply. Yet we tell our children otherwise, whenever the other kids are being cruel. "Just ignore them," we say. "Don't pay any attention to what the others say. Remember, 'Sticks and stones may break your bones, but words can never hurt you.' " But we know it's not true. Someone once wrote a more accurate idiom that goes this way: "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can sting like anything." And you know that's true! You know it's true.
A teenage girl walks by a group of ninth grade boys, and one of them whispers in an audible voice, "Hey, Lisa's getting a little chunky, don't you think? Oink! Oink! Oink!" Of course, Lisa laughs out loud as she hurries by, and then she heads off to the nearest restroom and melts into a million tears. In the future, she'll pay countless visits to that restroom, but now it's to purge and vomit the salad and rice cakes she just ate in the school cafeteria. You've seen it happen and so have I.
Or a father carelessly calls his college-aged son "lazy" or "stupid" or "clumsy" or "irresponsible." The boy doesn't care; he just slinks off to his bedroom and turns up the stereo, but inside, a little piece of him dies of humiliation. "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can sting like anything." And we do it all the time. And sometimes, we even do it on purpose.
The late Pastor Mark Jerstad, former president of Good Samaritan Society, once remarked that the tongue is the most powerful muscle in the human body. "It only weighs a quarter pound," he said, "but in a single moment, it can destroy a person's reputation or demolish their sense of self-worth." And it's been that way for years.
Jesus was teaching early one morning in the synagogue, when the Pharisees brought in a woman who had been caught committing adultery. Imagine that! Right in the middle of conducting worship, and they drag this woman into the sanctuary for trial. Scripture doesn't say she was naked, but I presume she was. If she was caught "in the very act of adultery," I doubt that they gave her time to get dressed before hauling her off to be executed!
"Master, this woman was caught in the very act of sleeping with a man who is not her husband. Our Law teaches that a woman such as this be stoned to death. What do you say?" "A woman such as this. A woman such as this!" The label must have stung as it landed on her ears, but just in case she missed the charge, the onlookers piled on the evidence. "She's nothing but a slut! She's a whore! She's trash! We say stone her to death." But there's more than one way to stone someone. In fact, they didn't even need to stone her. She was already dying a slow and painful death ... there ... in the church ... in front of her community and in the presence of Jesus.
It's been said that religious people are the only army who ever shoot their wounded, and that's what is unfolding here. Two hundred hands picked up their stones of judgment. Two hundred eyes gawked at a woman such as this. But one pair of eyes refused to stare. Jesus looked down at the ground and began writing in the dirt. He refused to add to the woman's humiliation. Jesus refused to condemn her, though he was the only one gathered who was qualified to do so.
"Here's my judgment," Jesus announced to the self-righteous crowd. "Whoever has never sinned, you may cast the first stone." If you're perfect, let 'em fly! If your life is without sin, you can start the stoning. It's no accident that the older Pharisees were the first to leave. As we age, it seems we become more aware of our shortcomings, and more honest about our own failures. Pretty soon, even the youngest, most zealous Pharisees had dropped their stones at Jesus' feet and left the temple. According to the rules, the woman deserved to die. She was, after all, caught in the very act! But this time, compassion won out. This time, love was more powerful than justice. "Is there no one left to condemn you?" Jesus asked. "No, sir," the woman replied. "Then neither do I condemn you. Go and sin no more."
If this story were to be told today, I fear that we would be the Pharisees. We, who insulate ourselves from the real sinners of this world, by our pious speech and our self-righteous attitudes; it is our hands that would be filled with stones. And we would aim them at anyone who did not think, or did not act, or did not speak, or did not believe the way we do. Literally, the word Pharisee means "people who have separated themselves." And don't we do that? Don't we take pride in the fact that we're not like those who steal, or those who are addicted, or those who can't make marriage work, or those whose children are ne'er do well, or those whose significant other is the same gender. C'mon, admit it: we're better than them! We don't do the things that people such as these do, so we have earned the right to cast stones at them. You see, that's what the Pharisees thought ... and Jesus said they were wrong. He did not say that the sinner was innocent ... in fact, he told her to go and sin no more. But he did imply that she deserved the compassion -- not the wrath -- of those who wanted to stone her.
Two thousand years after the fact, we readily admit that Jesus was right, that the woman deserved a second chance. And yet we are so harshly critical of people just like her in our day, people who make mistakes and break the rules. We can absolve her of her centuries-old indiscretion, but we condemn the 21st-century sinners. We can forgive the adulterous woman, but we do not forgive an adulterous president. We resent the actions of the Pharisees in Jesus' day, but we have carried on their tradition of judgment and scorn and punishment for those who get caught in the very act today. Loaded with stones ... or words ... or attitudes of self-righteousness, we are proud to cast the first stone. In short, we have met the Pharisees and they are us! Rigid. Religious. Unbending. And wrong.
There is another way, and Lent is a good time to consider it. Robert Schuller was invited to an African American church in the deep South, to observe the anniversary of the Emancipation Proclamation. When he stood up to preach to a sea of black faces, Schuller was overcome with emotion. Here were the great-grandsons and great-granddaughters of slaves, many of whom had been humiliated and abused. Though he tried to speak, the words would not come, and Schuller spent several minutes at the pulpit ... weeping. Finally, the host pastor joined Dr. Schuller at the podium, he himself now crying. The African American pastor put his arm around the white preacher and said, "Dr. Schuller, in this church, no one weeps alone."
That is compassion. That is tenderness. And that is the gospel. The stones you hold this night -- both real and imagined -- have perhaps already been targeted for someone. Those who have never sinned may take them with you. The rest of us are invited to lay them at the foot of the cross and be given a second chance. Thanks be to God. Amen.
Discussion Questions
1. Pastor said, "There is more than one way to stone someone." In the context of where you spend most of your time (school, work, family, circle of friends) how do people throw stones at one another?
2. Who do you think was the most surprised at the words that Jesus spoke to the woman ... the woman, or the Pharisees, or the disciples? Why?
3. Do we need people in the world like the Pharisees, who would make sure that the rest of us live and act properly? Who, do you think, functions in that capacity for you?
This evening I need the help of the children in our congregation. You may stay seated where you are, but I need your help in remembering some of the playground phrases that you might chant with your friends, or even say to your enemies, as children your age sometimes do. When you hear me begin a familiar one, just join in and say it with me. The louder the better!
Liar, liar, pants on fire. Nose as long as a telephone wire.
How about this one: John and Linda, sittin' in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love, then comes marriage. Then comes Linda with a baby carriage.
Maybe your parents will have to help you with this one: it's old -- ancient -- and you may not have heard of it before: Made you look. Made you look. Made you buy a penny-book. I'm not even sure what a "penny-book" is, but I am certain that you can't buy it for a penny anymore.
We want a pitcher, not a belly-itcher.
And then there's this one: Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me.
Most of the playground phrases of children have a ring of truth to them ... except that last one. "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me." We know, from our own experience, that criticism can hurt us deeply. Yet we tell our children otherwise, whenever the other kids are being cruel. "Just ignore them," we say. "Don't pay any attention to what the others say. Remember, 'Sticks and stones may break your bones, but words can never hurt you.' " But we know it's not true. Someone once wrote a more accurate idiom that goes this way: "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can sting like anything." And you know that's true! You know it's true.
A teenage girl walks by a group of ninth grade boys, and one of them whispers in an audible voice, "Hey, Lisa's getting a little chunky, don't you think? Oink! Oink! Oink!" Of course, Lisa laughs out loud as she hurries by, and then she heads off to the nearest restroom and melts into a million tears. In the future, she'll pay countless visits to that restroom, but now it's to purge and vomit the salad and rice cakes she just ate in the school cafeteria. You've seen it happen and so have I.
Or a father carelessly calls his college-aged son "lazy" or "stupid" or "clumsy" or "irresponsible." The boy doesn't care; he just slinks off to his bedroom and turns up the stereo, but inside, a little piece of him dies of humiliation. "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can sting like anything." And we do it all the time. And sometimes, we even do it on purpose.
The late Pastor Mark Jerstad, former president of Good Samaritan Society, once remarked that the tongue is the most powerful muscle in the human body. "It only weighs a quarter pound," he said, "but in a single moment, it can destroy a person's reputation or demolish their sense of self-worth." And it's been that way for years.
Jesus was teaching early one morning in the synagogue, when the Pharisees brought in a woman who had been caught committing adultery. Imagine that! Right in the middle of conducting worship, and they drag this woman into the sanctuary for trial. Scripture doesn't say she was naked, but I presume she was. If she was caught "in the very act of adultery," I doubt that they gave her time to get dressed before hauling her off to be executed!
"Master, this woman was caught in the very act of sleeping with a man who is not her husband. Our Law teaches that a woman such as this be stoned to death. What do you say?" "A woman such as this. A woman such as this!" The label must have stung as it landed on her ears, but just in case she missed the charge, the onlookers piled on the evidence. "She's nothing but a slut! She's a whore! She's trash! We say stone her to death." But there's more than one way to stone someone. In fact, they didn't even need to stone her. She was already dying a slow and painful death ... there ... in the church ... in front of her community and in the presence of Jesus.
It's been said that religious people are the only army who ever shoot their wounded, and that's what is unfolding here. Two hundred hands picked up their stones of judgment. Two hundred eyes gawked at a woman such as this. But one pair of eyes refused to stare. Jesus looked down at the ground and began writing in the dirt. He refused to add to the woman's humiliation. Jesus refused to condemn her, though he was the only one gathered who was qualified to do so.
"Here's my judgment," Jesus announced to the self-righteous crowd. "Whoever has never sinned, you may cast the first stone." If you're perfect, let 'em fly! If your life is without sin, you can start the stoning. It's no accident that the older Pharisees were the first to leave. As we age, it seems we become more aware of our shortcomings, and more honest about our own failures. Pretty soon, even the youngest, most zealous Pharisees had dropped their stones at Jesus' feet and left the temple. According to the rules, the woman deserved to die. She was, after all, caught in the very act! But this time, compassion won out. This time, love was more powerful than justice. "Is there no one left to condemn you?" Jesus asked. "No, sir," the woman replied. "Then neither do I condemn you. Go and sin no more."
If this story were to be told today, I fear that we would be the Pharisees. We, who insulate ourselves from the real sinners of this world, by our pious speech and our self-righteous attitudes; it is our hands that would be filled with stones. And we would aim them at anyone who did not think, or did not act, or did not speak, or did not believe the way we do. Literally, the word Pharisee means "people who have separated themselves." And don't we do that? Don't we take pride in the fact that we're not like those who steal, or those who are addicted, or those who can't make marriage work, or those whose children are ne'er do well, or those whose significant other is the same gender. C'mon, admit it: we're better than them! We don't do the things that people such as these do, so we have earned the right to cast stones at them. You see, that's what the Pharisees thought ... and Jesus said they were wrong. He did not say that the sinner was innocent ... in fact, he told her to go and sin no more. But he did imply that she deserved the compassion -- not the wrath -- of those who wanted to stone her.
Two thousand years after the fact, we readily admit that Jesus was right, that the woman deserved a second chance. And yet we are so harshly critical of people just like her in our day, people who make mistakes and break the rules. We can absolve her of her centuries-old indiscretion, but we condemn the 21st-century sinners. We can forgive the adulterous woman, but we do not forgive an adulterous president. We resent the actions of the Pharisees in Jesus' day, but we have carried on their tradition of judgment and scorn and punishment for those who get caught in the very act today. Loaded with stones ... or words ... or attitudes of self-righteousness, we are proud to cast the first stone. In short, we have met the Pharisees and they are us! Rigid. Religious. Unbending. And wrong.
There is another way, and Lent is a good time to consider it. Robert Schuller was invited to an African American church in the deep South, to observe the anniversary of the Emancipation Proclamation. When he stood up to preach to a sea of black faces, Schuller was overcome with emotion. Here were the great-grandsons and great-granddaughters of slaves, many of whom had been humiliated and abused. Though he tried to speak, the words would not come, and Schuller spent several minutes at the pulpit ... weeping. Finally, the host pastor joined Dr. Schuller at the podium, he himself now crying. The African American pastor put his arm around the white preacher and said, "Dr. Schuller, in this church, no one weeps alone."
That is compassion. That is tenderness. And that is the gospel. The stones you hold this night -- both real and imagined -- have perhaps already been targeted for someone. Those who have never sinned may take them with you. The rest of us are invited to lay them at the foot of the cross and be given a second chance. Thanks be to God. Amen.
Discussion Questions
1. Pastor said, "There is more than one way to stone someone." In the context of where you spend most of your time (school, work, family, circle of friends) how do people throw stones at one another?
2. Who do you think was the most surprised at the words that Jesus spoke to the woman ... the woman, or the Pharisees, or the disciples? Why?
3. Do we need people in the world like the Pharisees, who would make sure that the rest of us live and act properly? Who, do you think, functions in that capacity for you?
