January 22, 2006

Faith in Action

Isaiah 58:1-9a
1 Corinthians 2:1-12
Matthew 5:13-16

The time is the 6th century before Christ. The people of Israel have returned from their long exile in Babylon. The temple is still in ruins, but the people are trying hard to put their religious community back together. And yet, nothing seems to be working right. Some feel that God has betrayed them. Here they are, giving it their best shot, keeping the fasts, going through all the religious motions, playing the game by the book, and it's like God hasn't even noticed! But have they really played the game by God's rules?

Through the prophet Isaiah, God points out to them the hypocrisy of what they're doing: "At the same time that you're fasting, your behavior shows something very different. On the one hand, you're all pious and holy, but on the other, you're pursuing your own interests and oppressing your workers. On the one hand, you're praying and saying how you love me, but on the other, you're fighting with each other. This isn't the kind of fasting, the kind of religious rituals acceptable to me. Your faith is hollow, your religious rituals are meaningless, unless you live out that faith in your actions toward others."

What does all this say to us about how we express our faith? Is our formalized religious worship, what we do here Sunday mornings or Saturday nights, what we do when we pray by ourselves, is this not pleasing to God? Of course, God is pleased. But what this does say is that when we're hung up on the externals, we may neglect the internals and miss the eternal. Or, to put it another way, God wants our gifts and sacrifices, but God also wants us with them. God demands of people of faith, particularly those of us who have economic power, God demands of us social justice for others, sympathy and compassion and love for the homeless and poor, an inward self-identification with our neighbors in need. We are called to : "... loose the bonds of injustice ... undo the thongs of the yoke ... let the oppressed go free ... share our bread with the hungry ... bring the homeless poor into our homes ... and cover the naked..."

Most of us find religious activity, praying or fasting or reading the Bible or even going to church, a lot easier than obeying God's demands for social justice. It's much easier to fast for a day, than to share our bread with the hungry. It's much easier to sit in sackcloth, than to clothe the naked. It's much easier to bow our heads like a bulrush, than to stop exploiting the poor, directly or indirectly. It's much easier to pray for peace, than to protest the horrors of war. (i) And yet, when we do obey God, God promises that our light shall break forth like the dawn.

Jesus says that we are the light of the world, and that we are to let our light so shine, that others will see our good works and give praise to God. We can't get off the hook by saying, "I'm not worthy," or "I'm not able." No way! You are, we are, the light of the world - already, not because of our own efforts, but by God's grace. We need to accept what we already are. (ii) It is God's love toward us that give us the reason and empowers us to be loving to others.

A wealthy Russian aristocrat was riding on a train, traveling across his destitute country, and sitting across from him was a brick mason. The two got into a conversation, and the mason, a Christian, discovered that his companion was an unbeliever. "Would you like to be brought from darkness to light?" he asked. Then he witnessed of his faith in Jesus Christ. He invited the aristocrat to a tent meeting to be held at their destination, and the two of them went. Later in his life, the Russian often spoke of the tent meeting as the turning point in his life. "I was brought to the one great light that stands out among all the lesser lights," he said, "the light that penetrates beyond the surface aspects of life to the hidden darkness of the inner soul." This man, Leo Tolstoy, went on to write War and Peace, the crowning jewel in his testimony to the life of faith. Through Christ, the Light of the world, Tolstoy himself became a light to the world. And this is our calling also. (iii)

Tolstoy also wrote lesser works, smaller tales that often spoke of his new-found faith. One of the best-loved is this one, that I share with you today in an abbreviated version. When I finish telling you the story, I also want to tell you about how it had a profound impact upon me three days ago, as I was putting this service together.

Many years ago there was a shoemaker named Martin who lived in a tiny cellar apartment in a large city in Russia. The only light in his room came from a small window, just high enough to see people walking by from the knee down. Martin was a busy shoemaker, an honest man, and a fine craftsman. He lived alone; his wife had died while he was still an apprentice, leaving him with one son. The boy died 10 years later, leaving him lonely and depressed.

In his troubles the shoemaker had sought the counsel of a holy man. "All I ask is that God bring my life quickly to a close. I have become a man without hope," he told him. "There is still reason for you to live," said the holy man. "The answer lies in God. When you give yourself to God, you will find the reason to live, and you will no longer grieve over your great loss." Martin pondered the holy man's words: "How do I give myself to God?" he finally asked. "Get yourself a Bible and read it. There you will learn to live for God. Everything is to be found in the Bible."

Deeply moved, Martin immediately went to a store and bought a Bible. Each night, after his work was finished, Martin lit his lamp and read from the precious book. The more he read, the more he understood. The more he understood, the clearer and more joyful his heart became. As the depression left him, Martin faced each day with great anticipation. He worked long hours, caring tenderly for the boots and shoes that entered his tiny shop. His night reading empowered him to do his finest work.

One night Martin was reading in his Bible and came across the story was about the rich Pharisee who invited the Lord to his house as a guest. While Jesus sat at the table, a sinful woman anointed his feet and bathed him with her tears. In the end Jesus absolved the woman of all her sins. Martin put the book down and closed his eyes. He could imagine what controversy that incident had caused. Opening his eyes he looked again at the story, and read how Jesus chastised the Pharisee for not treating him with the kind of respect that the sinful woman had. Martin wondered, "Would I have been like the Pharisee? He took care of himself but ignored his guest. And his guest was the Lord! If he came to me, would I have done the same?" Martin then fell asleep, still sitting in his chair, and while asleep, a voice seemed to breathe in his ear, "Martin!" "Who's there?" he mumbled, half-asleep. "Martin, look out in the street tomorrow. I will come to visit you!" Suddenly Martin was fully awake. Was it the voice of Christ? Had he only imagined the words? He wasn't sure.

The next morning Martin rises before dawn, prays, heats the stove, puts on his cabbage soup, and sits down at his bench by the window to work. This morning, however, his mind is not on shoes. He wonders about the voice he's heard, or thinks he heard, the night before. One part of him thinks that the whole thing was just a dream, but the other part desperately wants the Lord to visit. Like a schoolboy, Martin's eyes wander out the window most of the morning. He sees familiar boots pass by in the new snow. As he looks he can see old Stephen, the retired soldier who serves as janitor in the building, come out to clear away the snow. The old man is struggling. "He is worn out already," Martin thinks as he sees Stephen lean on his shovel against the wall. "A man that old and frail has no business shoveling heavy snow." Tapping on the window, he cries out to the old man, "Come in and get warm. I have some tea ready."

Moments later old Stephen shuffles into the room. "Thank you; my bones are aching." Martin pours two cups of tea, and they enjoy it together. As the old soldier drinks a second cup, Martin glances out the window. "Are you waiting for someone?" his guest asks. "Well, yes I am, though I am rather embarrassed about it." He then tells the old man his dream. "It all began when I was reading about Jesus at the house of the Pharisee," and he proceeds to tell him the whole tale, and when he shows interest, he tells him other Bible stories as well. Later, when Stephen leaves, he says, "Thank you for inviting me. You have fed both my body and my soul."

Martin is pleased as the old man goes outside, but he is also a bit disappointed. It is already late morning, and Jesus has not yet come. He moves back to his workbench, and watches as other boots pass by his window. He paces the floor impatiently. On one of his trips to the door he sees a woman, poorly dressed, standing against the wall with her back to the wind. She has a small child in her arms. She's wearing summer clothes and the blanket around the baby is thin and ragged. Opening the door, Martin cries out, "My good woman, it is easier to wrap the baby in here where it is warm. Come in."

In a moment the woman is standing by the stove telling her story. Her husband went off to war eight months before, and he hasn't been heard from since. She had been working as a cook until the baby was born four months ago. "They laid me off," she says sadly. "Don't you have any warm clothes?" "I sold my last shawl yesterday for 20 coins. We needed the food." "Come," says Martin, and he takes her to a closet where a woman's coat is hanging. "It belonged to my wife. I don't need it anymore." Before she leaves he gives her a bowl of cabbage soup and finds a warm blanket for the baby. When she has gone, Martin feels pleased that he's been able to help her in some small way. But he also feels sad, for it is early afternoon, and Jesus has not yet made his visit.

As the afternoon wears on, he finds it difficult to keep his mind on his work. He often peers into the street through his tiny window. Opening his door, he is standing there midway through the afternoon, when he sees an old woman carrying a basket of apples on one arm and a basket of wood for her fire on the other. As she stops outside of Martin's door to shift the baskets, a small boy snatches one of her apples and begins to run away. The old woman grabs him by the sleeve and holds on. The boy struggles to get loose, but the determined woman will not let go.

Martin jumps up and runs outside without taking time to put on his coat. When he reaches the pair, the woman is pulling the boy's hair and he is screaming. Martin separates the two, and taking the boy by the hand, he pleads, "Let him go, grandmother. Forgive and forget, for the sake of Christ." "I'll give him something he won't forget," she shouts. "I'll take him to the police." "For the sake of Christ, have mercy," Martin begs. In the next few moments a beautiful drama is enacted. The old woman releases the boy and he apologizes. After Martin talks to her about the forgiveness of the Savior, she gives the lad another apple and smiles. As she takes her baskets and heads home, the boy springs forward and offers to carry the basket of wood. Martin watches the two walk down the street together. As he goes back inside he feels good that he has been able to help the two settle their differences. But he also feels sad, because it is now late afternoon, and Jesus has not come.

The shoemaker puts his tools away, sweeps the floor, and sets the table. When he finishes the last of the cabbage soup, Martin picks up his Bible and sits in his chair by the lamp. He feels rather foolish believing that Jesus had spoken to him the night before. He opens the sacred book to the 25th chapter of Matthew, and reads: "Then the righteous will answer him, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? And when did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you?' And the king will answer them, 'Truly I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers and sisters, you did it to me.'" Images of old Stephen, and the soldier's wife, and the woman and the boy suddenly flash across his mind. Then Martin realizes that his dream had not played tricks on him; the Savior had truly come to him that day, and he had faithfully received him. (iv) He had let the light of Christ shine through him, and had brought that light to others in need.

Over the course of a year, I see or talk on the phone with quite a few folks who are down on their luck for a variety of reasons, and in need of financial assistance. This is why I maintain a Pastor's Discretionary Account, funded by our Christian Outreach Board and occasional donations from some of you folks. Most of the people I help on behalf of our Church are not members, and many do not live in our community. One such gentleman I have dealt with twice in the past year, and to be honest, he has not made a good impression on me, and he is, quite frankly, a bit scary and intimidating in person.

He called me on Thursday afternoon, and I talked on the phone with him just after I had started re-looking at this sermon. I had intended to brush him off as gently as I could, because I had helped him fairly recently, and I really didn't have the time to spend. Yet, something made me stay on the line with him and listen to his unbelievable and very sad tale of woe. We talked for about twenty minutes, and at the end I offered to mail him a supermarket gift card. Before we hung up, he said, "Thank you for talking with me, Reverend. I have no one else to talk to, and you took the time to listen to me. Thank you."

I hung up the phone, glanced up at the computer screen, and the truth hit me right between the eyes. I had just been talking to someone, who in the eyes of society, is one of the least of these; I had just been talking to Jesus. The light of Christ can shine through any of us, any day of the week, whenever we are open to seeing Christ in the faces of our brothers and sisters in need, whatever their need might be, and when we respond to them.

The great black preacher, T.R. Washington, shared in a sermon about how someone had come to him one day for counseling, and had poured out all his problems, adding, "Sometimes, Pastor Washington, life just gets to be too much for me." Is that ever a problem with you? Life just gets to be too much? It happens to all of us from time to time. Well, this great old preacher picked up on the line, and in his sermon, he asked his congregation over and over again: "Is life just too much for you? Have the kids gotten to be too much for you? Is your marriage too much for you? Are you having troubles down at work, or over at school? Is you job just too much for you? Is going to the store and trying to make ends meet just too much for you? Are you lonely or bereaved? Are you scared or hurt? Tell me, is life just too much for you?" And then, in a way most of us white preachers just don't do as well, this gentle old black man let his light shine! Or rather, he let the Lord's light shine through him, and he concluded, and his words are for all of us: "If life has gotten to be too much for you, then turn it over to someone who knows how to handle it for you. Let Jesus be your joy! Let him be the balm in Gilead for your life. Trust him. Let him love you. And forgive you. And set you free. And then you go, and let your light shine in his holy name! Let it shine!" (v)

This, my friends, is putting our faith into action. Amen.

The Pilgrim Church of Duxbury
Rev. Kenneth C. Landall

i Emphasis, 2/87, p. 12-13.
ii The Clergy Journal, 5-6/86, p. 26.
iii Emphasis, op. cit., p. 16.
iv William R. White, Stories for Telling, pp. 25-30.
v Robert L. Hock, The Minister's Annual Manual, 1989-90, pp. 241-242.