Called to Love; Called to Act

Sermon delivered by the Rev. Dr. Jim Antal at Abbey Chapel, Mount Holyoke College
June 9, 2006 - 207th Annual Meeting

SCRIPTURE:

Jeremiah 29:1, 4-7, 11
These are the words of the letter that the prophet Jeremiah sent from Jerusalem to the remaining elders among the exiles, and to the priests, the prophets, and all the people, whom Nebuchadnezzar had taken into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon. . . . Thus says the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel, to all the exiles whom I have sent into exile from Jerusalem [4] to Babylon: Build houses and live in them; plant gardens and eat what they produce. Take wives and have sons and [5] [6] daughters; take wives for your sons, and give your daughters in marriage, that they may bear sons and daughters; multiply there, and do not decrease. But seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the [7] Lord on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare. . . . For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the [11] Lord, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope.

Psalm 46:1-11
God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should . [2] change, though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea; though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains [3] tremble with its tumult There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy habitation of the Most High . [4] . God is in the midst of the city; it shall not be moved; God will help it when the morning dawns The nations are in an [5] . [6] uproar, the kingdoms totter; he utters his voice, the earth melts The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our . [7] refuge. Come, behold the works of the Lord; see what desolations he has brought on the earth He makes wars cease [8] . [9] to the end of the earth; he breaks the bow, and shatters the spear; he burns the shields with fire "Be still, and know . [10] that I am God! I am exalted among the nations, I am exalted in the earth." The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of [11] Jacob is our refuge.

John 21:15-19
When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, "Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?" He said to him, "Yes, Lord; you know that I love you." Jesus said to him, "Feed my lambs." A second time he said to him, [16] "Simon son of John, do you love me?" He said to him, "Yes, Lord; you know that I love you." Jesus said to him, "Tend my sheep." He said to him the third time, "Simon son of John, do you love me?" Peter felt hurt because he said to him the [17] third time, "Do you love me?" And he said to him, "Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you." Jesus said to him, "Feed my sheep. Very truly, I tell you, when you were younger, you used to fasten your own belt and to go [18] wherever you wished. But when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will fasten a belt around you and take you where you do not wish to go." (He said this to indicate the kind of death by which he would glorify [19] God.) After this he said to him, "Follow me."

To you who are the body of Christ, the salt of the earth, the light of the world – I say grace and peace in the powerful name of Jesus Christ, the head of the church.

If preaching is about truth telling – and it surely is – then I must begin by telling you the truth: returning to Massachusetts fills my heart with joy! 35 years ago – almost to the day – I traveled from New Jersey to Andover where I began my first real job as a teaching assistant. That was followed by 20 years of teaching and ministry throughout the Commonwealth.

During those years, the people, the towns and – as a cyclist – even the roads became
imbedded in my spirit. But in the mid-1990s, when I listened carefully, I realized that “God was still speaking.” I realized that the God who makes all things new was not content with continuity. And so, after much prayer and discernment, late in 1995 I accepted a new call. Cindy, our two sons and I bid farewell to our beloved Massachusetts to follow God’s call to Ohio. Behind us – from Newton to Cleveland – we left a trail of tears.

It’s not that Cindy and I were ambivalent about the call. We weren’t. But somewhere near the little village of Mt. Washington, where I served a tiny church for two summers, the Mass Pike becomes the NY Thruway – and we felt we were going into exile. Our culture tells us it’s not supposed to be that way. If it’s new, it’s supposed to be shiny; it’s supposed to fit perfectly; it’s supposed to be right. But I’m sure that I’m not the only one in this Chapel who has followed God’s call with confidence, in spite of a pervasive, unshakable feeling of loss and grief. We grieved for the loss of our friends. In leaving Newton Highlands Congregational Church, the congregation that loved me into becoming a pastor, my heart was broken. (And need I add that there’s no comparison between the winding, pastoral lanes of New England and the relentlessly straight roads of Ohio!)

But if exile was to be our lot – if this new call to an unknown place inhabited by unfamiliar people was where God wanted us to serve – at least we knew that there was a time – and not only a single time, but many – when God’s people had been called to venture into new and foreign territory; to live as strangers in a strange land; to come to terms with their grief and loss; and amidst all that, to send down roots, raise children, and seek the welfare of the city where God had sent them.

So it was when Jeremiah wrote the Israelites whom king Nebuchadnezzar had exiled to
Babylon. And I believe that Jeremiah’s message is a universal word for all who are called. Because every time we look to God for new direction, every time we respond to Jesus’ invitation to “follow me”, before we can fully engage God’s future with hope, we must grieve the life we are leaving behind.

I trust that you all have some understanding of what I’m talking about because I believe that every person in this Chapel has experienced God’s call – and probably more than once. And more often than not, God calls us out of comfort and into challenge; out of the status quo and into unexplored regions; out of predictability and into surprise. Following God’s call is frequently not fun! As Jesus tells Peter, God often calls us to a place we would rather not go. But our calling God is not without compassion. Our calling God is not insensitive to our needs. As Bill Coffin loved to remind us, God provides minimum protection and maximum support. Because our God
is a calling God, we who commit our lives to follow God’s call will perpetually experience
ourselves as pioneers, as front-runners, as strangers in a strange land. But to be fully available for what God has in mind, we have to be honest about the grief we feel when we find ourselves immersed in change.

Now there’s a danger here that must also be acknowledged. While it’s absolutely essential to work through grief in order to embrace the new possibilities that any call from God offers, what often happens is that we become stuck in our grief.

Woody Allen, in his movie Annie Hall, tells the story of a man who goes to a psychiatrist, complaining that his brother-in-law, who lives with him, thinks himself to be a chicken.

“Describe his symptoms,” the doctor says, “Maybe I can help.”

So the man replies, “He cackles a lot, he pecks at the rug and the furniture, and he makes nests in the corners.”

The doctor thinks for a moment, and says, “It sounds to me like a simple neurosis. Bring your brother-in-law to my office next week. I think I can heal him completely.”

To which the man replies, “Oh, no, Doc. We wouldn’t want that! We need the eggs!” 1

How tempting it is to stay stuck in the past. But there’s something we need more than eggs. It’s the new life promised in the Gospel!

To receive a new call – to take in the possibilities and believe the promises that God offers – can be a threatening proposition. Believe me — I know! I can’t tell you how many people over the past many weeks – as soon as they shake my hand to wish me well, they say to me, “Whatever possessed you to want to take up this call?!” My response has been to quote one of my heroes, Harry Emerson Fosdick, who said: "Always take a job that is too big."

The only problem with making Fosdick’s quip my mantra is that I have not come here to do a job. I have come in response to a call. And it was Henri Nouwen who reminded us all that the word "calling" comes from the Latin vocare, which was defined in the 17th century as "that whereunto God hath appointed us to serve the common good."

So my real answer to the question “Why” is that I believe I can serve God, the church and the common good in this position. If you concur with the search committee and the Board, I will pour myself into that vocation, grateful for the opportunity to serve and humbled by the task.

Three months ago, the General Minister and President of our denomination, John Thomas, referred to the fabric of the commonwealth as frayed to the point of tearing. 2 A year ago, our synod delegates expressed the same concern in passing a resolution “For the Common Good.” It reminds us that if we are called to serve the common good, then the growing gap between the rich and the poor is our concern. The expanding ranks of the working poor is our concern. The increase in economic and racial residential segregation is our concern. The lack of universal health care is our concern. The inequalities of our public schools is our concern. The burden of debt placed on our children and grand children and great grandchildren is our concern. And the contamination and depletion of God’s creation is our concern.

Is it any surprise that this resolution – this Call to uphold the common good – was
resoundingly passed at synod? The UCC has a centuries-long tradition of acknowledging – both from the pulpit and from the public square – that our nation’s social fabric is only as strong as its weakest thread.

But can anyone say that today we are closer to this vision of a just society than we were a decade or two ago?

Well I can’t yet speak about Massachusetts, but I can assure you that in Ohio, we’re no closer! And yet, more than any other place in the country, in Ohio, religion has a voice in the public square. Massachusetts has Patriot’s Day. Well in Ohio, we have Patriot Pastors! Their goal for 2006 is to elect a governor who will make his religious beliefs state law.3 And their ordained leader is fond of saying that they are “locked, loaded, and ready to fire.”

Somehow, that doesn’t sound like the Gospel of Jesus Christ to me. But oh how it plays to the media and rallies like-minded followers.

Now even though this is my first meeting with you, there’s one thing I’m sure of: the
Massachusetts Conference of the United Church of Christ is not made up of churches who have in their pews tens of thousands of like-minded followers! Diversity is a hallmark of our denomination because we recognize “that of God” in people of diverse color, class, culture, piety and sexual orientation – and we extend to all an extravagant welcome.

Another hallmark is our belief that “God is still speaking” – that revelation is ongoing – and because it is, we serve God best when we engage in a common search for truth with those whose faith leads them on pathways different from our own. (Just as an aside, some of the conservative members of my current congregation wanted to help me practice what I preach in this regard. As a Christmas present, they pitched in to give me a subscription to the Wall Street Journal! Every day it reminds me and helps me to open my mind and heart.)

In preparing this message, I reviewed Nancy Taylor’s Charge to the Conference which she gave a year and a half ago.4 Addressing this the largest Protestant denomination in the Commonwealth, Nancy called you to a unity of purpose and reminded you of your strengths, which so far as I can tell are as numerous as the stars.

Like Nancy, I believe there can be unity without uniformity. And I believe there can be
diversity without division. But not without opening ourselves to the reconciling presence of the Holy Spirit. Not without embracing as our own the humble posture of the One who died on Calvary. Not without listening attentively as the voice of God is calling.

Great spiritual leaders – and a few political leaders as well – practice the disciplines of reconciliation, humility and attentive listening. Abraham Lincoln knew how to listen well – to the ideals of those who founded our country, to the needs of the nation, and to a preacher’s sermon.5

In the darkest days of his Presidency, when Lincoln was visiting New York, he would
occasionally slip into a mid-day worship service at the New York Presbyterian Church. There President Lincoln could find some relief from the horrible demands of trying to win a fratricidal war.

One day, he and his aide quietly entered the sanctuary by the side door a few minutes late, and sat unnoticed in the corner. Following the service, the President lingered after the others had gone home. Finally, his aide asked, “Mr. President, what did you think of the sermon today?” Mr. Lincoln replied, “I thought it was eloquent, well thought out, and powerfully delivered.” “Then you liked it?” the aide continued, trying to fill the silence. “No. It failed.” And Lincoln continued, “It did not ask of us something great.”

Because the nation was engulfed in devastating grief and divided by irreconcilable divisions, Lincoln recognized that the leaders of the church had to be willing to ask of God’s people something great. If they didn’t, their work – and his – would fail.

Our world, our nation and our church need us to listen. God is asking us to do something great: To show evangelical courage by joyously proclaiming inclusion as we create welcoming communities that offer blessing, dignity, respect, safety and a sense of belonging; 6 to open ourselves to God’s promises for our churches by sharing the vital initiatives that are bringing new life to congregations across the Commonwealth; to enlarge the circle of justice to include those who are poor, hungry, homeless and without work; to expand our moral obligation beyond ourselves, beyond our families, beyond our nation, and bring God’s blessing to future generations as well.

The Psalmist reminds us that God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in times of trouble. The work ahead is hard, but we need not fear.

Jeremiah assures us that the Lord has plans for our welfare and not for harm, and that we will be given a future with hope.

Jesus Christ calls us to follow him, in a life of love and action.

Because we believe in a loving and sovereign God who has acted throughout history on behalf of justice and peace, as faithful followers of that God let us unleash our imaginations; let us unmuzzle our mouths; let us unbind our hands; let us unshackle our feet; let us open our wallets; let us draw on our gifts to work for the day when the human heart will be governed, not by grief but by hope, and the body of Christ will exemplify reconciliation, humility and courage in becoming instruments of blessing, architects of justice, and harbingers of peace in a weary world crying out for transformation. Amen.

1. This account is told by Parker Palmer in The Active Life, pp. 140-141.
2. John Thomas, “The IRS, The IRD, and Red State / Blue State Religion” Address at Gettysburg College, March 12, 2006.
3. See “Movement in Pews Tries to Jolt Ohio,” New York Times, March 27, 2005.
4. Nancy Taylor, Charge to this Conference of Churches, January 9, 2005; delivered at Evangelical Congregational Church of Westborough, UCC.
5. This story is quoted in Lectionary Homiletics, Vol. XII, No. 2, January 2001.
6. Walter Brueggmann, “Message of Inclusion not just ‘Disputed’ – It’s ‘Urgent’” UCNews, Dec. 05 - Jan. 06.