Mark 7:1-8,
14-15, 21-23; James 1:1-17
Once upon a time, in many homes in America, Sunday
would arrive and we would fulfill our time honored ritual of going to
church. I can’t speak for you Yankees,
but in the south, no one gave it a second thought. Church was what all the “good Christian” folks
did. We put on our Sunday best and went,
not just to church, but to Sunday School.
It was years before I realized the first Monday in September was Labor
Day. I thought it was a holiday because
it was the day after Rally Day. Anyone
remember Rally Day? It was that special
day in the church when two critical things happened. First, it was Promotion Sunday. But more importantly it was Recognition
Sunday. Those who had perfect attendance
during the past year would receive a pen.
Multi-year repeaters would receive special pens recognizing their
faithfulness. I remember going to see my
grandmother once and showing off my pen that stated I had not missed Sunday
School in five years. She pulled out her
pen. It flowed with emblems showing she
had not missed Sunday School in years higher than I could count. I gazed upon her in amazement. She obviously was a really good Christian.
I haven’t seen attendance pens for a
really long time. I assume some
denominations have continued that ancient tradition. Being both a pastor and Christian Educator,
there is a sadness in my heart that our Sabbath observance is not celebrated
like it was years ago. I have come to realize,
but not fully accept, that Sunday is no longer exclusively God’s day. With the cultural demands of sports and
travel, these days hardly anyone would receive a perfect attendance badge. And while it would be so easy for me to
preach a sermon, on this my 61st Rally Day, on the virtues of
Sabbath Keeping, the text this morning raises a red flag that can not be
ignored.
Jesus seemed to always find himself at
odds with the church goers. The
Pharisees, a highly visible religious group, each wearing their perfect
attendance pen, were appalled that the disciples of Jesus had failed to wash
their hands properly before eating lunch.
Every good Jew knew that there was a ritual to be performed before bread
could be eaten. In fact every good Jew
knew there were a variety of disciplines performed each day to guarantee one’s
holiness before God. These traditions
were not to be forgotten or broken.
Jesus did not have a problem with the Jewish
disciplines. More than likely he washed
his hands in the manner benefitting a good Jew…. just the way he had been
taught by his grandmother. What concerned
Jesus was the manner in which the Pharisees rebuked the disciples. If the disciplines of one’s faith leads to
arrogant words, are we not defiling the original intentions of God’s all
inclusive covenant that we love one another?
If we are quick to speak, and slow to act, aren’t we doing more harm
than good?
Sometimes I believe that the spoken word
is highly overrated. As the NFL, the new
religion of America,
prepares to occupy its Sunday temples, I realize the celebrated preachers of
the sport, men such as Coughlin, Belichick, Tomlin and Reid are never short on
words of instruction, encouragement and criticism. But even they would agree
with the author of the book of James who said, “Be ye doers of the word and not
hearers only.” No matter how big our
reputation, no matter our list of credentials, in the end it doesn’t matter if
we are just “all talk”.
A couple of week ago a number of us were
standing around a pile of 75 cinder blocks.
We knew those blocks needed to be carried up the steep path before
us. We stood around for a few moments
trying to device a plan. Should we each
grab as many as we could carry? Should
we spread out creating a long chain? If
so who was going to take the steepest part of the hill. As we debated our strategy, the pile of 75
blocks shrunk to 69 as three women, THREE AMAZON WOMEN, each standing at least an
inch or two over four feet and weighing in an amazing 100 pounds had already
made one trip and were headed up the mountain a second time. Speechless, we each picked up what we could
carry and followed their example.
Imagine what might
happen if the church
of Jesus Christ stopped
talking and started walking. I wish our
entire membership was at church every Sunday.
I wish we would have as many folks at Sunday School as we do in
worship. I have found my Sabbath
disciplines to be an important part of my life. But shouldn’t the highest goal of our life
be, “loving God with our heart and mind and our neighbors as ourselves?” The author of the book of James counsels us
to a practical morality that is quick to listen and slow to speak. He emphasizes this by saying “religion that
is pure and undefiled is this: taking
care of the orphans and widows in distress.” What we do matters. What comes out
of our mouths can make a difference, for good and for ill. But our actions speak louder than our words.
Words may touch our emotional life and help us anticipate tomorrow. But our
actions establish the structures that build our world. Action adds value to our
words and gives them life.
How did I come to believe this? I heard it on Sunday Morning listening to the
Holy Words. But I also witnessed it on
Monday through Saturday working beside folks who weren’t afraid to get their
hands dirty. Today, this Sabbath day,
we have come to hear the word of the Lord.
We have come to celebrate the Holy Feast which is highlighted with the
command, “Do this in remembrance of me.”
When we take the bread, we are doers.
When we drink from the cup, we are doers. Then on Monday, when we help
someone who is lonely; Tuesday when we deliver a load of wood; Wednesday when
we visit the sick; Thursday when we fill the back packs; Friday when we play
together; Saturday when we carry bags of food at the Pantry, we are doers. We are physically giving thanks that God has
opened our heart and our eyes to the needs of our community. On Sunday, we return to this holy place, to
once again hear the word, to once again praise God, to once again hear the joys
and concerns of our congregation, to once again remember that “every generous
act of giving, every perfect gift, comes from above.”
Last night I was watching a movie with
my grandson called The Lorax, an animation film based on a Dr. Seuss book. The
story is about a young boy, hopelessly smitten by love, wants to find a tree
for his beloved a generation after all the trees have been cut down for
commercial exploitation. He travels to
find the mystical Lorax who might know how to find a tree. The Lorax tells him how the tress were
destroyed. About the time I was really getting into the film, my daughter
announced it was Andy’s bedtime and we could finish watching the movie at a
later time. I was devastated. What happened to the trees? Where did all the animals go? Would the young boy find a tree and win the
hand of his beloved? And what did the
word “unless”, chiseled on the rock outside the Lorax’s house, mean? As my grandson was cruelly being dragged off
the bed I asked, “Andy, what does the word “Unless” mean?” He said, “Granddaddy, everyone knows that unless
someone cares, bad things will always happen.”
“Be
Ye Doers of the Word.” Amen.
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