Angry Clay

Psalm 139:19-22; Jeremiah 18:1-12

Simone Weil (pronounced Vey), a fascinating French woman who lived in the first half of the last century made an incredible observation about life.  She said that more often than not we are asked to choose between agony and numbness.  Her advice was to choose agony because it is not silent.  Our frustrations, our suffering, our disturbance over the demands of others, simmers endlessly until finally the steam must be released or forgotten.  I might suggest our memories are far more dangerous than our enemies.  Consequentially, to rage, to scream, to know that we are heard, is a far more potent remedy than anything we might find in our medicine cabinet.

In light of this I must admit for most ministers, myself included, the spoken and unspoken promise behind many   sermons and certainly most counseling sessions is the promise of Jesus, “Fear not, I am with you.”  What I sometimes  forget is that before this promise can be effective, the source of the fear must be voiced.  The story of the Old Testament is grounded in the idea that something huge and often frightening intrudes into Israel’s complacency, enough so that life as the Hebrews knew it was often placed in jeopardy.   Their response was to cry out, believing that Yahweh would respond to their fears.  The reaction and often the lack of reaction by God caused a stunned awareness that sometimes it is too late to change what we have already been put into motion.  None the less we cry out, knowing, or at least believing only God can change the unchangeable.  Both scriptures this morning deal with choosing to voice agony rather than remain numb.  And in both cases, the rage of the writer elicits a response from this Holy one called Yahweh.

The first example comes from a well known passage from the Book of Jeremiah.  It is the parable of the Potter.  How many times as a child have you sung, “Have thine on way, Lord, have thine own way.  Thou art the potter, I am the clay.  Make me and mold me after thy will, while I am waiting, yielded and still.”  It is a beautiful song, which completely misses the conflict that is going on in this text.  Yes, God was the potter.  Yes, Israel was the clay.  Yes, God was in front of the potter’s wheel pumping away, trying to make something beautiful of the material in God’s  hands.  But it was not working.  No matter how hard God tried to create a pristine vase, the results was like one of those ash trays our children kept bring home from summer camp.  The problem was not God’s inability to create but rather the imperfection in the material with which God was working.  God said to Jeremiah, “You go tell Israel she is flawed.  You tell her I know she has no desire to correct her sins.  You tell her I am going to throw her away and start over with some new material.”

Talk about an impossible task.  Can you imagine what must have been going through Jeremiahs mind?  He knew if he took this message to his neighbors, to his friends, they would run him out of town on a rail.   What do you do when you are asked to fix something that is not fixable?  Imagine you are at work and the boss comes up and says, “It seems to me the productivity in the work place is not what it should be and I want you to evaluate our work force and figure out where the weak link is so that we can increase our margin of profit.” It’s a reasonable request except for the small little problem. You are the only person in the business that is not related to the boss.

Or perhaps family members have come to you to discuss the health of everyone’s favorite uncle.  It seems that Uncle Joe has been making more frequent visits to the doctor and everyone is concerned.  You are elected to make the trip over to Charlottesville to see if maybe Uncle Joe might be open to a healthier diet or perhaps a regimen of afternoon walks.  He graciously greets you, intently listens to the concerns of the family and then responds, “Do you mind if I smoke?”

Sometimes we feel there is no use in even trying.  As much as we want to shape the clay, as often as we hear the encouraging words of friends or family urging us on, we know the clay is never going to be anything more than another ash tray for Uncle Joe.  And that makes us really mad.  We get mad at Uncle Joe, we get mad at the folks who made us the messenger and we get mad at ourselves for agreeing to be the messenger in the first place.  I can understand Jeremiah’s frustration when he was told to go deliver the “word of the Lord” to Jerusalem.  He knew they were not going to change.  He knew they would discard both him and the message. And so in his frustration he screamed back at God, “They are not my problem.  You are the potter, not me.  If you can’t shape them don’t lay that responsibility on me.  May they die of pestilence; may their children starve; may their widows become childless.”

Wow!  Where did Jeremiah find that kind of anger…. that kind of courage…. to say exactly what was on his mind?  It kind of goes against the grain of us peace loving Christians who would never say anything that might upset the proverbial apple cart.  We WOULD EXPECT Jeremiah to intercede on behalf of his neighbors.  We WOULD EXPECT Jeremiah to beg for the mercy of God to bridle the anger of God.  We are almost shocked by the prophet’s outpouring of venom.  ……… But perhaps not shocked so much that we don’t become Jeremiah’s private cheering section.  Sometimes it feels really good to get angry, to think horrible thoughts we would never speak out loud, to secretly lash out at our adversary……… even if it is God. 

Back in my tennis playing days, I was given a wonderful piece of advice on how to keep my eyes on the ball. I was told to imagine that the face of an adversary was painted on the back side of the ball.  See the face, whack away! Once after a decisive victory over a very worthy foe, my friend said to me, “It must have been a tough day at work.”  

Is there anyone here that hasn’t felt that they deserve their moment of righteous indignation?  Is there anyone here who hasn’t had perverse thoughts toward someone we normally love and adore?  Is there anyone here who hasn’t wanted to pick up a tennis racquet and wail away, just for a moment of absolute joy?  Is there anyone here who hasn’t wanted to scream at God? 

Let me suggest screaming at God begins a process from which we are awakened from our complacency. Screaming at God is certainly safer than screaming at our spouse. Furthermore screaming at God opens us to discovering creative resolutions in what we imagined to be an impossible impasse. In the case of Jeremiah, the transformation of Israel would never have begun until someone screamed.  It was the scream, the cry for help, which reminded Yahweh of the covenant relationship to which God was bound.

Our second scripture offers a second, more modern approach to the crisis of our lives.  I like to refer to this Psalm as the passive aggressive Psalm.  I am sure you all have friends who take this perilous approach to personal relations.  In a conversation they gently waltz their way around a problem, believing if they leave enough hints, we will see the difficulty and respond in a manner that meets with their approval.  And when we don’t, they get angry that we are not smart enough to figure out what is going on.  This particularly is frustrating for women.  If guys have something to eat, a ball game to watch and a bed to sleep in, we pretty much think things are great.

Perhaps Psalm 139 was written by a woman.  It starts out with the greatest of compliments.  “Lord you have searched me and known me.  You know when I sit down and when I rise up.  Even before a word is on my tongue, you know it completely.”  In other words, if I am happy, God knows it.  If I am joyful, God knows it.  If I am hurt, God knows it.  If I am sad, God knows it. If I am angry, God knows it, and therefore God should respond to my anger without me having to say a word.   

But that is not the way it works.  God doesn’t play games. If there is a problem, God wants us to spit it out. Eventually the Psalmist realizes this and speaks the words that were pinned up inside.  “O God, why don’t you kill the wicked.  I hate them with perfect hatred and I count them as my enemy.”

Am I the only person here who has wanted to say those words? I promise you it doesn’t matter if your enemy is holed up in a cave in Pakistan, if your enemy is a disease that is attacking a family member, if your enemy is a lie that is challenging your reputation, we cannot deal with the enemy until we have understood the pain they have caused.  Furthermore we cannot understand the pain until we have voiced it.

Here comes the good news. Once voiced, the potter takes our brokenness, our anger, our pain, our honesty and places us back on the wheel.  Then gently, God shapes us with his hands and mind.  Eventually our agony, our pain, our frustration, our humanity, is molded until we become something beyond what we thought possible.  We cry out, “Search me, O God and know my thoughts, test me and know my heart.  See if there is any hurtful way in me and guide me along your road of eternal grace.”

Once we have voiced our pain, once we have honestly expressed our agony, once our hurt and dare I say it, our sin, has been acknowledged, we are able to honestly sing,

“Have thine own way, Lord, have thine own way.

Thou art the potter, I am the clay. Mold me and make me, after thy will, while I am waiting, yielded and still.

                                                        To God be the Glory, Amen.