Two for the Price of One

Every once in a while, I find myself with two good ideas for the sermon, and neither of them will let me go.  It happened again this week, so here are two (Brief!) sermons in a row …  

Heirs of God

Isaiah 6:1-8; Romans 8:12-17

Today is a two-sermon Sunday. Both of these texts are wonderful, puzzling, inspiring, and challenging – but they have steadfastly resisted all my attempts to weave them together into a single homily. So I capitulate to the texts

(which is usually a good idea, actually), and let them stand next to each other like nervous teenagers, not quite touching each other.

Sermon Number One: You have probably hear dozens of sermons about the call of Isaiah: the dramatic scene in the temple with strange seraphs, earthquakes, and smoke; the odd imagery of a live coal cleansing the prophet’s lips; and the clear call of God answered by the equally clear and very prompt commitment by Isaiah. I am guessing that most of those sermons have urged you to be like Isaiah – to listen for God’s call, and to answer it promptly and positively. And perhaps you have been able to do that.

On the other hand, perhaps you have not. Perhaps you have had trouble hearing God’s voice, or perhaps you think you have heard it but were reluctant to answer at all, let alone promptly and positively. In short, perhaps you have been like lots of other characters in the Bible who were much more cautious –or maybe resistant – to jumping on God’s bandwagon. Let me remind you of a few of those:

• Moses, who told God he couldn’t speak well enough to lead the Hebrews out of Egypt
• Jonah, who jumped on a ship to Tarshish as soon as God told him to go to Ninevah
• Samuel, who couldn’t tell the difference between the voice of God and the voice of Eli the priest, with whom he lived
• The rich young man who wanted to follow Jesus until he found out he would be required to sell all that he had and give the money to the poor
• Saul of Tarsus, who was so bent on persecuting Christians that God had to strike him blind on the road to Damascus just to get his attention.

All of which is to say that you might be Isaiah – or at least you might be like Isaiah in this one way – that you are ready to jump up and do whatever God calls you to do. But you might just as likely be Moses or Jonah or Samuel – and need some time and persuasion before you can discern your vocation and act on it. Either way, you have lots of company – the company of the characters in the Bible, and the company of faithful people through the ages, each one of which has had to find her/his own path.

So don’t let me, or any other preacher, bully you into believing that there is only one way to answer God’s call.

Sermon Number Two: It sounds like a wonderful thing: to be “heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ…” [Romans 8:17] That’s how St. Paul puts it in the letter to the church in Rome.

Well, I just became an heir (or perhaps, an heiress), and I have to tell you that it is a very complicated experience – even leaving aside the human grief that goes along with any inheritance. And I have to confess that I had never read this section of Romans 8 with the realization that being heirs of God might also be a complicated experience.

To be an heir in human terms usually means to come into possession of objects and money. But along with those objects and money comes the responsibility to care for them – which might mean anything from watering the houseplants and feeding the cats to managing the investment portfolio. Sometimes those objects come with string attached – service contracts, mortgages, debts and obligations.

Sometimes the human inheritance includes some non-tangible items, too – things like reputation or traditions. Inheriting my mother’s cookie sheets might mean inheriting her practice of making vinegar cookies for her neighbors; inheriting my father’s calculator might mean inheriting his distaste for paying interest and bank charges.

To be an heir with someone else, again in human terms, means coming to agreement with that someone about how the inheritance is to be distributed. Nearly every family has at least one story of heirs who quarreled about who got Grandma’s wedding ring or quibbled about whether Susie should get a bigger share of the Microsoft stock because she visited Uncle Herman every week.

And in human terms, to become an heir is to change your place in the family, and in some sense, you place in the world. I am no longer a daughter. I have been promoted – however unwillingly – nearly to the top of my family tree (I have one living uncle who is in my parents’ generation, though significantly younger than they were).

And so I will probably not be an heir again. Instead, I have to start thinking of myself as a “testator,” a person with an estate for which I need to make plans – to whom will I leave the objects, money, traditions, and reputation that have come to me?

So take a moment with me to wonder (for there are no simple answers to these questions) – to wonder about all the questions these human experiences raise with respect to being an heir of God:

• What is it, exactly, that we have inherited as heirs of God? In one sense, the natural world in which we live, of course. But it is more than that, I think. We have inherited the role of creator, or more accurately of co-creator. We have inherited the roles of lover, forgiver, healer, and reconciler.
• What is our responsibility as stewards of these gifts? What if some of them seem especially burdensome or ill-matched to our gifts and skills? What if our responsibility requires more resources than we have?
• What does it mean to be “joint heirs” with Christ? What does Christ share equally with us, and what is designated only for us (or only for the divine)?
• What does it mean to move to the top of the spiritual “family tree” by being heirs of God? Is this a lonely place, as it can seem in human terms?
• And how are we to exercise our responsibility to pass this inheritance along to those who will follow us?

As complicated as it may be, being a human heir often has a sense of “rightness” about it – at least when the inheritance passes from an elder to the next generation. Being an heir of God – well, that’s a bit more surprising, more unnerving. There are no written wills or tax laws or attorneys to help us navigate the complexities. But the truth is, if we are going to accept our role as children of God, we must also accept our role as heirs of God, however that may unfold in our lives.

Prayer for July 24, 2005

Almighty and everlasting God, creator of all things seen and unseen, hear now our silent prayers, as we open our hearts to you in the sacred quietness.

God of faith and hope, we bring before you our prayers for those we have named this morning – we especially remember … Bring to each of them the gifts of mercy and grace that are most needed, according to your wisdom and love.

We believe, O Holy One, that you call us to live fully in the world, but sometimes we are overcome by the harshness of events in the daily news. We pray this morning, then, for help in living in a world that seems very far from your kingdom of shalom.

When we are bombarded with stories and pictures of war and violence, open our eyes to also see the faces of the compassionate people and organizations that come to the aid of victims. Bless these ministries of rescue, recovery, and rebuilding, and let them be visible signs of your healing presence in the midst of human hostilities.

When we are confronted by stories of fiscal misconduct motivated by greed and self-interest, help us to also remember the financial sacrifices made by generous people to meet the needs of their families and their neighbors. We pray for your blessings on the benevolent gifts made to churches, schools, service organizations, and the arts, and on those who use those gifts for the common good.

When we recognize instances of economic injustice, we pray for the courage and tenacity to confront the powers and principalities that take advantage of the poor. We long to follow in the tradition of your prophets, and to be voices of truth and accountability, but we are easily discouraged by the complexity and enormity of the forces we encounter. Restore our energies, we pray, and fill us with the strength of righteous indignation against the exploitive habits and policies that continue to make the rich richer and the poor poorer.

When we are faced with the reality of human inhumanity, of cruelty and perversity, we ask you, O God of compassion, to keep us from becoming hardened ourselves. Protect us from the contagion of heartlessness and indifference, and help us to be brave enough to risk the pain of heartache and solidarity with those who suffer.

Finally, when we encounter your name used to justify sinful actions and systems, we pray for the wisdom and clarity of voice to testify on your behalf, and on behalf of faithful and peaceful persons everywhere in the world.

All these things we pray in the name of the one who lived fully and prophetically in his own time and invites us to do the same, Jesus the Christ, and we pray together now in the words that he taught us …