Sermon preached January 10, 2016
Texts: Isaiah
43:1-7; Luke 3:15-22
It
is movie award season again. If you are
not a football fan – and we will have you on your way in plenty of time to
watch the Vikings game – you may know that tonight is the Golden Globe Awards
show, an awards show that often gives some clues about who will be nominated
for Academy Awards.
Perhaps, like me,
you enjoy both football and the movies.
Our family has had some wonderful times over the years watching movies
together. A number of years ago, we also
started a tradition of watching the Oscars together, and our older daughter
Beth does her best every year to see as many of the Oscar nominated films
before that award show. Last year she
saw them all.
You may remember
last year, the Academy Award for best picture went to a film entitled
“Birdman.” How many of you saw that
movie? It was an odd film in many ways –
quirky, artsy, a little magic realism.
One of the things I particularly remember when we watched it was the
flash of recognition that hit me early in the film. The film is about an action movie star trying
to produce a play on Broadway. In an
early scene in the Broadway theater, a rehearsal, we have four people seated
around a table drinking and as they begin to talk, I recognized dialogue from a
Raymond Carver short story. Sure enough,
the film “Birdman” was about this action movie star trying to bring a Raymond
Carver short story to the stage. By the
way, I can play a mean game of trivia.
The particular
Raymond Carver story the film uses is a story entitled “What We Talk About When
We Talk About Love.” Two couples, both
divorced and re-married are sitting around a table, drinking gin and talking
about love. What is particularly
memorable about the story is that one of the women talks about her abusive
former partner, and then says, “Say what you want to, but I know what it
was. It may sound crazy to you, but it’s
true just the same…. Sometimes he may have acted crazy. Okay.
But he loved me.” It is a
haunting short story, and the author Raymond Carver was considered a master of
the form.
Carver also wrote
poetry, and some of his poetry is about love.
I have been particularly moved by a poem he wrote simply called “Late
Fragment.” I have shared it a few times
at funeral services. We used it in an
Invitation to Worship in Advent.
And did you get what
you wanted from this
life, even so?
I did.
And what did you want?
To call myself
beloved, to feel myself
beloved on the earth.
Imagine
yourself at the end of life, posing that question – “Did you get what you
wanted from this life, even so?” The
“even so” reminds us that life will have its ups and downs, its disappointments
and heartbreaks as well as its wonder, beauty and joy. Through it all, what might you say you wanted
most? Carver’s answer strikes a deep
chord, I think. Don’t we all want to
call ourselves beloved, to feel ourselves beloved on the earth, to know deep in
our flesh and our bone that we are beloved, deeply loved?
Now when all the people were baptized, and
when Jesus also had been baptized and
was praying, the heaven was opened, and the Holy Spirit descended upon him in
bodily form like a dove. And a voice
came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased. The focus here is certainly on Jesus, but
being beloved by God, that statement is there for us as well.
Don’t
we all want to call ourselves beloved, to feel ourselves beloved on the earth,
to know deep in our flesh and our bone that we are beloved, deeply loved? Years ago the psychologist Abraham Maslow
wrote, “All other things being equal, psychological health comes from being
loved rather than from being deprived of love” (Motivation and Personality,
Second Edition, 186). Maslow’s work
reminds us of the deep needs we have for love, for knowing we are loved, for
feeling that we are loved – a need as deep, though different, from our need for
bread and safety.
The
heart of the good news of the Christian faith is that we are beloved, that we
are loved by God, by the God of Jesus in and through Jesus. Just as Jesus heard the Spirit telling him
that he was beloved, so God’s Spirit wants to speak to each of us those same
words – “You are Beloved.”
The
words Isaiah over two thousand years ago to a people in exile, are words God’s
Spirit would speak to us today. I have called you by name, you are
mine…. You are precious in my sight, and
honored, and I love you.
Hear
the good news today, you are loved, you are beloved. You can call yourself “Beloved.” You can feel yourself beloved on the earth.
To
know that we are loved does not preclude the possibilities for or need for
change in our lives. We are loved, and
we still mess up sometimes. We are loved
and there is still room to grow. After
last Sunday’s sermon Geoff Bell posted this wonderful takeoff of the Serenity
Prayer on my Facebook page:
God, grant me the
serenity to accept the people I cannot change,
The courage to change
the one I can,
And the wisdom to know
it’s me.
I find that much more helpful than the other Serenity Prayer
takeoff I’ve seen:
God grant me the
senility to forget the people I never liked anyway,
The good fortune to
run into the ones I do,
And the eyesight to
know the difference.
God
give me the courage to change the person I can change and the wisdom to know
that it’s me. Growth continues. Change
is possible and needed. Yet, it begins
in being beloved. It begins in radical
acceptance, in knowing that we are loved by God.
This
good news also does not preclude God’s call for us to be part of God’s work to
change the world. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks,
in his recent book Not In God’s Name: Confronting Religious Violence,
writes, “It is our task to be a blessing to the world” (5). It is our task to be a blessing to the world. It is good to know we are beloved, necessary
to know that we are beloved. Yet this
same God who calls us beloved invites us, calls us, to join in God’s work in
making the world a place where belovedness is more real – making the world
kinder, more just, more peaceful, more compassionate. Still, it begins in being loved, in knowing
we are loved by God. Without that inner
knowing, our work in the world can easily go astray. I am reminded of the words of Michael Eigen: You can’t just work on institutional
injustices without the actual people who are involved working on themselves,
and you can’t just work on yourself without working on the injustices in
society…. Without work in the trenches
of our nature, we may wreck what we try to create. (Michael Eigen, Faith,
96, 7).
And did you get what
you wanted from this
life, even so?
I did.
And what did you want?
To call myself
beloved, to feel myself
beloved on the earth.
We
can call ourselves beloved, feel ourselves beloved on the earth, because God in
and through Jesus calls us beloved. One
constant reminder of our belovedness is the baptismal font. This particular font comes from the old First
Methodist Church building downtown. When
I first came here as the pastor, it was not here. When we baptized, we brought a bowl of water
to the front of the church. When I first
came here I also did not know of the tradition of carrying the baby through the
church. I think I owe Emily Sapyta a
walk through the church, but she is about as tall as I am now, so that would be
awkward!
Anyway,
this font was in the atrium holding a plant.
I saw it one day and asked about moving it into the sanctuary. It is a bear to move – heavy, in three
parts. We moved it in here, and moved it
once since, for tile replacement. It
gets in the way a little bit with the bells, but we are not going to move it,
and that is o.k.
God’s
love for you is as solid as this baptismal font. It is as anchored in the world as this font
is anchored in this place. Here, where
we use water again and again to let children and adults know that they are
loved by God. May this be a constant
reminder of God’s love. Just as the
smallest of those children gets wrapped in the arms of the pastor, so God
continues to embrace each of us in love.
Here God offers love and forgiveness.
Here we pledge to each other to be a community of love and forgiveness.
And did you get what
you wanted from this
life, even so?
I did.
And what did you want?
To call myself
beloved, to feel myself
beloved on the earth.
You are. Amen.
No comments:
Post a Comment