3rd Sunday of Ordinary Time
I used to be a youth pastor; most people know that. That was kind of my first career: I worked with children and youth in one capacity or another for about as long as I’ve now been a small-church solo pastor. The message is the same and the community that you try to shape is the same, but the ways you do it is very different. For example: with young people, you don’t form Christian Community over coffee or a potluck. With young people, you do it by cramming them into vans and taking them on a road trip. Works like a charm. Sometimes they come together because of the time they spend together; sometimes it’s the adventure they have along the way.
I remember one such adventure: there were three vans, crammed with kids. I forget where we were going, but it wasn’t a place we’d been before. Keep in mind: this was in the days before cell phones and GPS. The way it worked went like this: the driver of the lead van knew the way; the driver of the middle van kept her eyes on the lead van’s taillights and the driver of the third van kept his eyes on the taillights of the middle van. Because I was in charge, I presumably knew the way and everybody followed my van. (A little foreshadowing there.)
So we’re moving along and we come to a place that I know we’re supposed to turn; so I turn and the caravan follows. Only, I very soon realize that I’ve turned the wrong way. So I find a safe spot, turn around, and the over vans follow. We get back to where we already were and turn the other way. A little farther along, we get to a place that I know we’re supposed to turn; so I turn and the caravan follows. Only, I very soon realize that I’ve turned the wrong way. So I find a safe spot, turn around, and the other vans follow. We get back to where we already were and turn the other way.
Eventually, we did get to where we were going and I see the other drivers coming toward me and I know what’s coming. I cut them off: I said, “I know! I got you here, let it go.” To their credit, they did… until my birthday. On my birthday, the driver of the middle car—without any fanfare or explanation—gave me a compass. A compass, by the way, that I kept in my car for years after that.
Our Scripture lesson today reminds us that we sometimes need a compass; we need friends who will—without judgment and in love—deliver that compass to us. There is no shame in admitting that we get lost; the only shame is not returning to a direction that is True.
Today we hear a wonderful Bible story that you may not have ever heard before. As with just about all of the Bible, this story remembers how the power and will of God was at work in the lives of the people of God. It may not be as well-known as some of the other parts of the Story of Salvation that the Bible tells, but it has its place.
We know how, centuries earlier, God had delivered the people from captivity in Egypt and brought them wonderful gifts: gifts like a land of their own, and security, and abundance, and prosperity. Gifts like the Law to keep the people near to God and reliant on what God was doing. And for a while, that worked just fine.
But you know the next part of that story too. Famed theologian Walter Brueggemann once said, "Prosperity causes amnesia;” and eventually the people forgot where all of those gifts came from. They forgot to seek what God was doing; they forgot to rely on God’s will and power; they forgot to obey the Law that deepened their relationship with God. The point of all this that we’ll eventually come to this morning might seem a little remedial to some. I assure you, it’s not. What we learn here today is vital to our not-forgetting; vital to our own spiritual health, to the life of our church, and to our work in the world. But the story continues: Scripture also records God’s hand at work in their downfall as well. These once blessed, but forgetful people faced their own consequences. God allowed the Babylonians to overrun the land and the people to be carted off, where they spent half a century in exile.
But then there’s this part of the story that we don’t always get to: the people of God did eventually get back; the hand of God was at work there too. Eventually, the Babylonian Empire gave way to the Persian Empire and God used Cyrus the Great to help them rebuild. Now, there is a lot more to that story, but that’s the short version of how we get to our story today.
The Israelites were finally able to return to the so-called Land of Promise, but what they saw wasn’t pretty: the walls of Jerusalem were in ruins; the great temple was a mound of rubble; the countryside was a wasteland. It isn’t hard to imagine the mood; possibly because I feel that way too some days. I look at the culture that surrounds me, so often self-centered and self-destructive. I look at the church—not just this one—that seems a shell of what it once was; torn down by division and priorities that never belonged to Jesus. Yeah, I know their mood; it’s called “despair.”
But God was not done telling their story yet and God is not done telling ours. God raised up leaders who would see beyond the despair and on to what God was building even in their midst. God raised up a somewhat hard-nosed administrator named Nehemiah and a scribe named Ezra. And although the work wasn’t easy, they stepped up to lead a new start, including building a new temple and new city walls.
Which brings us to our story today. When the work was finished, they gathered everyone together; and I mean everyone. The text mentions a place called the “Water Gate (a different Watergate).” They gathered them there because it was a place where everyone could be gathered: men, women, young and old; everyone was there.
Ezra pulled out a scroll he’d brought back with him from Babylon. It was a scroll containing the first five books of the Bible: Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, Deuteronomy. In other words, their history; how they first came to be a people and how they first came to inhabit this land.
The other day, my son asked me how my side of the family came to live in America. It’s a good question: knowing where we’re from and how we got here helps to shape what we do here. But if you don’t tend to it, again it can be forgotten; I know I don’t tell it right. I know the basics, but if you want to know the real story, the details and dates and names, you need to ask my dad; he knows those things. If you want to learn it right, you need to know who to ask. When the Israelites wanted to really remember their own history, they went to those books of the Bible.
With everyone gathered, Ezra read the stories of where they were from and how they got there: creation, Noah and the ark, Abraham and Sara, Joseph and his coat, their deliverance from Egypt, the Commandments, all of it. But meanwhile, they have priests moving among the people to help them understand what is being read. We skipped a couple of verses out of mercy to Brenda. The verses we skipped were mostly very difficult to pronounce proper-names of the people there; but what happened there is an important thing to point out.
Hearing Scripture is good; come to church on Sunday and listen to the Bible being read; we’ll do it every week; it’s good for you. And knowing Scripture is even better; memorize those verses that keep you focused and hopeful; turn them into songs that you can sing throughout your day. But the point of Scripture is understanding. We need one another for that understanding. Sure, it helps to have people around who have studied Scripture and know the contexts and languages, but even more than that, we need each other to remember that we are also characters in the story God is telling through Scripture. That’s good news, but it isn’t always easy to hear.
And then an unusual thing seems to happen: the people hear this good news, but start to weep. Now, tears can mean a lot of things. I’ve been teary a lot lately, but my tears don’t often mean I’m sad; more often than not, they indicate joy in my soul. But why are they weeping?
I think it’s because God’s Word can do two seemingly opposing things in us at the same time. They hear God’s Word and they are rightly confronted by it: God’s Word confronts us with the knowledge that there is a gap between who we are and who God wants us to be. And weeping can be an appropriate response to that knowledge.
Perhaps a better question is: why did Nehemiah and Ezra tell them not to weep? Well, I think it’s about the other thing Scripture does in us. You see, God’s Word doesn’t just point a finger at us, God’s Word points us back to God. It points us to the abiding, eternal fellowship we are meant to have with God, our Maker, our Savior, and our Sustainer. That might make the happy tears flow, but it’s certainly news that is worth celebrating! That is the kind of news that would guide and encourage the people of Israel as they embarked on difficult work before them; and it’s the kind of news that will carry us as well.
The point of the message today is deceptively simple: get back to God’s Word. If you’re self-conscious because your Bible is a little dusty, don’t be; remember that in our story today, they hadn’t cracked theirs open in generations and met them in it. Only, get back into God’s Word. Maybe read the text for next Sunday a few times during the week. Maybe start with the Gospel of Mark and see where that takes you. Better yet: join a Bible study where other followers of Jesus can help you, not only hear and know, but understand the story that Scripture is telling and your part in it. Only, get back into God’s Word. Let it confront you, but let it also point you to the God who loves you, comes to you, and has a plan for you forever.
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