Genesis 11:1-9; Philippians 1:27-30
One of my favorite
stories in all literature is The Tower of Babel. Traditionally this fable
is an explanation for all the world’s different languages. But the true meaning
behind this hilarious story goes a lot deeper. I like to think the conception
of this story started out innocently enough, but eventually the satirist just
couldn’t help himself. Imagine the writer compiling all those incredible stories
that make up the first ten chapters of Genesis. First was creation, then the introduction
of sin, which resulted in expulsion from paradise. Next there was the issue of
capital punishment. Most people wish the incident had been a home invasion or
drive-by shooting. But the writer knew where most violence finds its origins.
He made it a family crime. Then he expanded the conversation by introducing
Noah, a man caught between humanity’s egocentricities and God’s desire for a
selfless community. With the conclusion of Noah’s watery odyssey, the writer was
ready to begin the traveling sideshow known as Abraham and his family. But the writer
hesitated. The stories would flow better if there was a piece of comic relief, allowing
the reader to breathe before having to swallow the tale of an octogenarian with
an overwhelming desire to be a father.
This is how it might
have happened. Our creative genius worked endlessly without any inspiration
whatsoever. Just as he was about to call it quits his son entered the picture to
save the day. Elam was a good kid, but once he entered public school he seldom
came home happy.
“Dad, why can’t I go
to a school where everyone speaks Hebrew?”
“Son, we don’t live in
Jerusalem any more. Your mom and I want to give you the best. If you want to go
to Babylon Tech you need to understand the language and customs of the folks
who call this place home.”
“But Dad, the Persians
are so full of themselves. All we talk about in school is this ziggurat and
that ziggurat. They sure are proud of those Temples. Are their churches really better
than the one we left behind?”
Elam’s dad didn’t hear
another word. The answers to his literary segue stood right before him. He
would write a story about the arrogance of his Babylonian captors.
It began like this. “Once,
when everyone spoke the same language and were of the same mind, the leaders
came together and said, “Let’s build a tower to the heavens. People will marvel
at its magnificence. Everyone will want to come to climb this stairway to
heaven.” Some of the folks applauded. Some of the folks wondered if it was
necessary and one was a bit curious. “Why do you want to build a tower to the
heavens?” The answer exposed the real reason for the venture. “It will make a name
for us. People will see the tower and declare us to be one with the gods.”
And so the building
began. No real thought went into how you build a tall building. In fact they
were so busy trying to make it look pretty they didn’t bother constructing it
with solid stone. They paid off the local OSHA inspector and brought in substandard
materials. The project went higher and higher, becoming less a monument to God
and more a testimony to their giant egos.
A meeting was called
to go over the final plans. This was to be a critical conversation. Only it
never took place. From afar God looked down on the temple and was less than
pleased. What was to have been a holy place had become wasted space. With the snap of holy fingers God put an end
to the whole travesty by creating languages. Suddenly no one could understand
what anyone else was saying. Since listening to each other had never been a
priority, with the language barrier, communication became impossible. They all
went their separate ways. Eventually the city came to be identified with the
crumbling tower known as Babel for it was here that God had confused the
language of an already babbling people.
The storyteller smiled,
looked out on the city of his captivity, and knew one day the faulty foundation
on which Babylon had been built would soon crumble into the dust.
More than six hundred years
later some people in the community of Philippi were in the process of building their
own “temple.” Our glimpse at these people comes through the rose tinted glasses
of Paul. He loved this little church more than any other church he had helped
create. It was his first effort on European soil. They were a generous people who
had created a spot for themselves within a culture that was often hostile to
Christians. Paul wrote, encouraging them to be about the glorious task of
living each day as Jesus would have lived it. He reminded them that Jesus
emptied himself of all ego in order to be one with God. He told them whatever
they did, don’t do it to glorify me or bring notice down upon yourselves. Live your
lives, raise your families, serve your community and build your church in a
manner worthy of Christ.
As the folks in
Babylon and Philippi and many other churches have discovered, temple building
is a hard task. During the last year many voices have weighed in on how we
might address the problem/opportunity known as our fellowship hall. If you all
agreed on what we should do, I would be really worried. Fortunately this
congregation prides itself in listening to others even if you can’t stand what your
neighbor might have to say. A lot of voices have weighed in. Some folks feel
confident they have the solution. Some folks feel a bit nervous about their
neighbor’s confidence. Some folks want a few more questions answered. A few
folks are getting weary of answering questions. I can tell you from experience
that no building project begins or ends without heartburn, confusion, and
disappointment. Projects always cost
more than anticipated and projects never meet the needs of everyone. I think
you know that. From hearing you talk, from reading your questions, from
examining the survey many of you completed after our town meetings, we may not
all be on the same page but we are speaking the same language.
What I have
appreciated and what I believe will sustain us in whichever direction we go is our
overall approach has not been self-serving but rather an opportunity to further
glorify Christ. Our decision is not a means unto itself but rather a mandate to
proclaim God’s grace, expand our inclusiveness, and celebrate our missions as
we continue to be a light in our valley.
Do we repair, do we
reboot, i.e. complete the footprint, or do we rebuild? Whichever becomes our directive
let us do so in a manner that is worthy of Christ. Let us stand firm in one
Lord. Let us build together using the best materials God has given us:
A trusting heart,
A generous soul,
A prayerful spirit,
An open mind,
Voices that glorify God and God alone.
We
are a people of many voices. Each voice is an honest understanding of what God
would have us do. Let us trust God and each other to find our collective holy
voice. Then let’s trust that voice to make our endeavors sacred.
No comments:
Post a Comment