Collingwood Presbyterian Church, Toledo
August 11, 2019
Isaiah 1:1, 10-20 Luke 12:32-38, 40
I’m generally a lectionary preacher. That is—I use the Revised Common Lectionary (RCL) for each Sunday to guide which scriptures I’ll use for preaching and praying that day. It’s a three-year plan, released in 1994, that includes “most” of the important passages in the Bible. Now, I’ve been known to deviate from the RCL on occasion—but mostly I stick pretty close to it.
And I’ve got to tell you: It’s amazing what shows up “randomly” in the lectionary. Do you know what the Gospel text was on Sunday, September 11, 2011—exactly 10 years from the horrific bombings in our country? Matthew 5:
“You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.”
Whoa.
And then there’s this Sunday—a week after yet more mass shootings in this country, including one pretty close to home in Dayton. (I know, some of our politicians thought it was Toledo, but we know better, right?) And all over social media and in conversations with friends and on the news, we’re hearing, Enough with the thoughts and prayers! Do something!
And in a time when I’m hearing the same question from friends and family, many of whom rarely darken the doors of any religious institution: Where is the church? Where is the leadership of ministers and rabbis and priests and imams as we are stuck in this nightmare of gun violence, this trauma of children being plucked from their families, this era when our leaders play on our fears and urge us to anger and violence? Where is the church in all this?
And on this Sunday we have this particular text from Isaiah, and one from Luke as well, that remind us that this is not the world God wants for us. That this is not God’s plan for the lives of God’s beloved children. And that it is our responsibility to do something about it.
Let’s turn first to the Isaiah text.
Hear the Lord’s word, you leaders of Sodom.
Listen to our God’s teaching, people of Gomorrah! (Isa 1:10)
Sodom and Gomorrah! Our understanding of the sin of these cities has been heavily influenced by Medieval teachings that say this was a sexual sin, but actually, it was violence and a lack of caring for others. Or as Ezekiel said about it:
“This was the guilt of your sister Sodom: she and her daughters had pride, excess of food, and prosperous ease, but did not aid the poor and needy” (Ezekiel 16:49).
The people of Isaiah’s day are eager to say, no, not them, they’re not as bad as Sodom and Gomorrah, but speaking through the prophet, God says, Oh yes you are. Oh. Yes. You. Are.
What should I think about all your sacrifices?
I’m fed up with burned offerings of rams and the fat of well-fed beasts.
Stop bringing worthless offerings. Your incense repulses me.
New moon, sabbath, and the calling of an assembly—
they’ve become a burden that I’m tired of bearing. (Isa 11, 13)
All these things—the animal sacrifices, the incense, the new moon and sabbath assemblies—all these things were mandated in the Torah. This is how Jews were supposed to worship God.
So what was the problem?
The problem was that while they were adhering to all the rules about worship, they were ignoring the ones that instructed the people to care for the widow and the orphan, to welcome the stranger and the refugee. To care for God’s people—all of the people.
They had blood on their hands—blood from the animals they sacrificed in worship and blood on their hands because of the way they treated people the rest of the time.
Whether they realized it or not, they were using worship as a kind of defense—As long as we worship well, that’s all that really matters. Or maybe of manipulation—God, you have to love us because we worship so well.
But God said No.
When you stretch out your hands, I will hide my eyes from you; even though you make many prayers, I will not listen; your hands are full of blood. (Isa 1:15)
It’s not too hard to wonder whether this applies to us as well.
There’s a real temptation, I think, for many of us to want to retreat into church, to immerse ourselves in worship and meditation and reading the Bible, as ways of escaping from the horrors of the news in our time. To separate our lives into what we do as part of our faith and what we do with the rest of our lives.
We do this as individuals, and we do this as churches.
But God says to us No. All of your life belongs to me. And being really good at worshiping does not excuse you from failing to do good in the rest of your life.
In other words: What good is our faith if it’s expressed only in worship or in the privacy of our prayers?
But we are not without hope. The last part of this passage from Isaiah tells the people then—and the people now—what we need to do.
Wash yourselves; make yourselves clean; remove the evil of your doings from before my eyes; cease to do evil, learn to do good; seek justice, rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, plead for the widow. (Isa 1:17)
Come now, let us argue it out [let’s settle this], says the LORD: though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be like snow; though they are red like crimson, they shall become like wool. (Isa 1:18)
Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be like snow; though they are red like crimson, they shall become like wool. That’s a promise—a promise of forgiveness and restoration.
The promise is echoed in our Luke text: “Don’t be afraid, little flock, because your Father delights in giving you the kingdom” (Luke 12:32). The kingdom of God, in which God’s will is done, in which the lamb lies down with the lion, in which the poor are fed and the stranger is welcomed and the oppressed are raised up. The kingdom in which love extends to neighbors beyond boundaries. God wants to give us this.
God wants to forgive us; God wants to welcome us into God’s kingdom. But worship on its own is not enough to get us into God’s good graces. Confessing our sins, on its own, is not enough. Confession needs to drive us to repentance—moving in a different direction, changing the way we think and act. Worship needs to drive us to action in the world.
Cease to do evil, learn to do good; seek justice, rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, plead for the widow. (Isa 1:17)
What would that look like for us, as individuals and as a church?
There’s a story about the 20th-century American rabbi, Abraham Joshua Heschel, who was both a professor of mysticism and an active participant in Civil Rights work. After Heschel had marched with Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., from Selma to Montgomery, Alabama, someone asked him if he had found much time to pray when he was in Selma. His response? “I prayed with my feet.”
This week I came across a song inspired by Heschel’s comment, written last year by a contemporary church composer named Paul Vasile, called “Pray with Our Feet.” The song has absolutely stuck in my head for the last several days—I even found myself singing it to my grandson as I walked with him.
It’s not enough to offer thoughts and prayers.
It’s not enough to say that we care.
It’s not enough to hope that things will change.
We’ve got to pray with our feet,
pray with our feet,
pray with our feet
and get out, out on the street.
That’s not a “sing the baby to sleep song,” it? That’s a “move the baby into action” song. That’s a “seek justice, rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, plead for the widow” song. That’s a “show the world what Christianity is all about” song.
Pick your social issue, your political issue. Gun violence, substandard schooling in inner cities, lack of health care providers in large swaths of this country, foreign interference in elections … children orphaned by ICE …
You know what they are. Pick your issue, your “seek justice, rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, plead for the widow” issue, and start to pray about it.
Pray about it first in the privacy of your home or of this gathering. Ask God how you can best turn those prayers into action, into praying with your feet. God may call you to give money … for as we read in Luke this morning, “Where your treasure is, there your heart will be too.” God may call you to make calls, to sign petitions. To go to meetings. To raise consciousness. To vote.
For if our faith does not drive us out into our world to pray with our feet, then God’s words through Isaiah do indeed condemn us.
When you stretch out your hands,
I will hide my eyes from you;
even though you make many prayers, I will not listen;
your hands are full of blood.
Little flock, your Father delights in giving you the kingdom. Live into it.
When you see injustice, when you see violence against the innocent, when you see oppression of people we’re taught to fear … pray with your feet.
And when the world looks around and asks, “Where is the church?” the answer will be clear.
Alleluia. Amen.
revjeannegay 