On Setting Tables in the Midst of our Enemies -- The Life and Testimony of Jean

      On behalf of Stuart and the rest of the family, and all of us at Advent, thank you for joining us today as we remember the life and faith of Jean and of God’s promises to her.  Before I get started on the homily, though, I need to remind us all of a great gift—consider it a commercial of sorts.  Unsurprising to many of us, Jean planned every bit of her funeral service.  The hardest part of planning this service was Stuart having to flip through a folder of notes and other documents to find her planned service.  To put it bluntly, this is Jean’s last testimony to all of us.  She picked the music; she picked the readings; she picked the volunteers; you name it, she picked everything.  If you feel you hear something in her voice, as you gather with us today to remember her impact on you, there is a good reason you do.  This is what she wanted. 

     I even have to chuckle a bit at a memory of Jean and this planned service.  Some years ago, after the death of another beloved Adventer, Jean took my hand in both of her hands and firmly, but smiling, said that I had to do her funeral.  I reminded her that such things were out of our control, but she would not hear it.  She just patted my hand and reiterated what she wanted.  So, when I say she got everything she wanted in this service, I mean she got everything she planned for! 

     And before we go any further, I just want to point out to Stuart his error.  As we gathered last week for him to grab her service plans, Stuart remarked that there would not be many people in attendance.  Too many of her friends, and their friends, he said, had already died.  Stuart, look around.  I knew how important she was to your neighbors and to members of this church, and I underestimated the number of people who would choose to come to the service.  In those dark days ahead, as you deal with the grief of losing your sweetheart, I hope you remember this army of those who loved her and love you and would gladly do what they can to minister to you and your family. 

     Part of the reason I demurred about preaching the homily at her funeral, of course, is the challenge of preaching a sermon that honors the faith and life of a woman like Jean.  As we continued our discussions about this over some years, I shared with her my opinion that the life of the deceased made funeral sermons and homilies good or bad.  My job, like it or not, is to remind us of Jean’s faith in God’s promises and how she lived her life confident in God’s redemptive power.  In her case, nothing I could say would ever catch peoples’ attention in the way her life and manner had.  Good, I see nods.  In some sense, a homily for Jean is easy because she did all the hard work.  I’m just putting the bow on it. 

     Those of you who like to read the Scripture for funerals can turn to Psalm 23.  In particular, I was drawn to one aspect of Psalm 23 that most of us gathered today know but forget in the midst of this famous psalm.  Psalm 23 might be the best known piece of Scripture in the West, meaning Europe and America.  Adventers will tell you, sometimes under their breath, that part of my job the last 9 years has been to remind them that Psalm 23 comes right after Psalm 22.  The proximity of the two psalms were important to God when He caused the Scriptures to be gathered and organized by His people. 

     Many of us gathered here have been to church during Holy Week and Easter, but not all of us have.  I mention that because Psalm 22 is famously recorded as among Jesus’ last words as He gives up His life on the Cross.  The first words of Psalm 22 are “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me.”  Those who do not pay close attention to the psalms may think Jesus’ cry from the Cross was a cry of desperation or a feeling of abandonment.  True, the psalm starts out that way.  But we need to remember the importance of the psalms in worship of God.  Most of the psalms, we believe, were sung in worship.  Many were likely associated with particular holy days or great feasts.  Just as many of us gathered for her funeral know the song, Lift High the Cross, those who watched Jesus die on the Cross knew the words and tune of Psalm 22.  What would have stood out to them was the fact that Jesus was quoting a song of re-orientation even as He was clearly dying, clearly subject to the authority of Pilate and of Rome. 

     If you are not intimately familiar with the psalm, the psalm begins with those famous words and continues with feelings of abandonment.  The psalmist or singer wonders aloud whether God knows of his or her suffering, whether God cares about the suffering, and even, we might say, whether God can do anything about the suffering.  As the psalm continues, though, the one saying the psalm reminds himself or herself of God’s redeeming acts in the life of the individual and of the lives of God’s people.  More amazingly, the psalm ends with the vow to proclaim the saving works of God to the great congregation of His people. 

     Those standing at the foot of the Cross would have been utterly confused at Jesus’ use of this psalm with His dying breaths.  How can a dead man proclaim the saving works of God?  It makes no sense.  Then, the psalms immediately move into our psalm today.  For those of us gathered here today, the words equally make no sense, absent the truth of the Resurrection.  Why would Jean make this one of the verses to be read after her death, unless she truly believed the testimonies of our Lord’s Resurrection and the resulting promises? 

     Those of us who knew Jean knew her grounding in reality.  She knew there was suffering in the world around her.  She knew that death was the enemy over which none of us would ever be able to conquer.  Yet she selected this psalm to remind each of us of God’s promises. 

     For my part, I was drawn particularly to the fifth verse as I prayed over a homily for Jean’s funeral.  You might think it a weird place to focus, but it described Jean’s life.  As some of you shared with me over in the parish hall during the visitation, you have expressed a similar focus.  Jean was the kind word or shoulder to cry on during particular troubles.  Jean was the encouraging voice for some who saw no way out of the shadows.  Jean was the calming presence in the face of anxieties.  Good, I see lots of nods. 

     We do not think of fears and anxieties and failures as enemies, but often they are the tools of God’s enemy.  They are the events and imaginations in our lives which God’s enemy uses to convince us we are beneath God’s notice, unworthy of God’s love.  And Jean took it upon herself, or, I would claim, God gave her eyes to see and ears to hear where her family, where her friends, where her neighbors, where her co-workers, where those with whom she was engaged in life were beset by enemies.  Some of us were beset by economic privations; some of us were beset by relational issues; some of us were beset by health issues; some of us were simply beset by isolation.  And it was in that work that Jean excelled. 

     I suppose, to use modern analogies, I would describe Jean as a caterer or hostess for God’s table, the table that God promises to prepare in the midst of our enemies, that we might remember His promises and know the security and power of His love and redemptive grace.  In the midst of that work, Jean worked hard to help us know we were loved, help us know we were valued, both by her but more importantly by God.  That so many of us showed up today is testimony of her work, and of God’s calling and empowering of her to do the work He gave her to do.  Because we knew her, because we experienced her kind words or words of encouragement or a needed hug or a piece of advice, none of us gathered here today are particularly surprised to see this psalm as her chosen psalm for her funeral.  Like our Lord, she knew the suffering of the world all too well; but she patterned her life after her Lord’s, trusting that His Father, her Father, would keep His promises to her, and that she will dwell in His house forever and sing of His praises to the great congregation, even though to those outside these walls, such a claim, such a faith, may seem misplaced. 

     For Stuart and the family, of course, the loss is far more acute.  They have lost a wife, a mother, a grandma, a loving woman who knew the proper use of a rod and a staff.  But for a short time, you and I, all of us who have gathered here today to pay our respects and to offer stories of our love and appreciation for Jean’s work and ministry among us, have been drawn into her work, intentionally by her, that her most treasured family is reminded of the same promises by God.  You and I are the caterers or hosts or hostess for the table that God is preparing for them in this midst of this terrible shadow of her death.  But, like Jean, we are reminded that God’s promises to all those who call Him Lord will one glorious Day be fulfilled.  That when He returns to finish the re-Creation He began that Easter Sunday two thousand years ago, He will call all His sons and daughters to Him, and that, like her, we will dwell with Him in His house for ever! 

 

In His Peace and His Promises! 

Brian+ 

We are family . . . we are like dew in an arid land

      Before we get really started on the homily, and yes, I will be short since our focus today is on prayer, I need to encourage all of you gathered today to give yourselves a pat on the back.  I was explaining to Funmi in the vesting room that today is Low Sunday in the parlance of liturgical churches.  Great emphasis is placed on the Easter celebration, in our context, but then few people think it necessary to come to church and celebrate the Second Sunday of Easter.  I always remind people that I assume we get extra gems for our crowns for coming on Low Sundays.  We toss those crowns at the feet of Jesus at the end of the age, so don’t get too attached to the crowns nor the gems.  We were prompted into the discussion, though, as many were running late.  When I plugged in the receiver for the microphone, there were just two people in the pews.

     Our psalm today is the fourteenth of fifteen psalms described as “Psalms of Ascent.”  Psalms of Ascent are thought to have had two uses in the life and worship of Ancient Israel.  For pilgrims, who were expected to attend Temple Worship at least once in a lifetime, but as often as possible, the psalms served as a way to pass the time as they climbed the holy mountain to Jerusalem.  Think of people gathering and looking to group up to protect against bandits and wild animals.  The whole group would be climbing the mountain expectantly, recognizing they were soon see the city and the Temple of Yahweh.  The psalms would help pass the climb and heighten the anticipation.

     The other use seems to be more clerically focused.  The psalms were sung by the priests as the headed up to the Temple.  Think of your favorite high Anglo-Catholic chant and the priests singing it as they went about the work of preparing for worship.  Some argue that the psalms were even sung by the priest as they headed to work.  I guess I do a chant of sort, much like Fr. Randy Dunnavant’s reputed morning chant—Give me coffee.  Give me coffee.  Lol

     This psalm, of course, is short, but has a mighty purpose.  The theme of the three verses is obvious.  The psalmist is reminding all who pilgrimage to Jerusalem, and all those with liturgical responsibility, that those coming to the Temple for the worship of God are all family.  Most would have understood themselves to be at least kissing cousins, to use the language of WV or East Tennessee.  Leave it to our Alabaman in the choir to snort loudly.  All would have counted Abraham as their ancestor, though there might have been some God-fearing Gentiles included in the pilgrimages.

     What is not so evident in the English translations of the Hebrew, though, is the theological intent and description.  Those singing the psalm in the original language would be unable to miss the tov.  You have seen that word most often in your translations of Genesis.  Each time God describes His handiwork in Creation, He calls it tov.  Theologically speaking, as you are singing this song and ascending to the Temple, you are specifically reminded of Creation and of God’s intention that humanity live together in unity.  Pretty deep for relatively short verse, eh?  Like us, Israel understood that Creation was marred by human sin.  Like us, they were called to realize that the divisions among people dishonored Yahweh.  Way back in Genesis 12, God specifically calls Abraham and Sarah into relationship so that their descendants might be a nation of priests, drawing the Gentiles to Yahweh.  To be fair, it takes them a while to figure it out, and not all their descendants understand God’s call on their lives; but we Christians know many who have forgotten Christ’s instructions and promise of empowerment to draw the world to Him today.

     The second verse moves from Creation to the establishment of the right worship of God.  For the poets among us, the psalmist does this by the use of simile.  We all watched the Ten Commandments last week and we have reminded ourselves of the Exodus from time to time, so this verse should be easily understood.  Why did God send Moses to Pharaoh in the beginning?  Right!  To bring His people to Sinai to worship Him.  Pharaoh refuses, and the cosmic battle, if we can call it that, between Yahweh and Egypt begins.  That battle ends with the deaths of all the firstborn of Egypt, the institution of the Passover Meal as a perpetual ordinance, and Israel’s freedom from bondage.

     Israel asks God what it means to live in communion with Him.  God’s answer is what we call the torah.  Contained in that torah of right relationship with God is the proper worship of God.  Famously, Aaron is anointed priest of God’s people.  In fact, all the Levites are chosen to be priests, but Aaron will be their high priest.  Moses famously anoints his brother, in obedience to God’s instruction, with the oil that runs over the beard and the collar of Aaron’s robe.  For a nomadic people, enslaved for generations, and now placed in proper worship of the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, the imagery is glorious.  At this point in their collective life, this is a festal experience!  God, who first called Abram out of Chaldea and then Israel out of slavery, is now instructing His people about the proper worship of Him in song.  Maybe best of all, God has instructed Moses to anoint his brother with oil that he, Aaron, may bless the people.  No-one climbing that mountain would not know the image or the importance.  Of all the people in His Creation, Yahweh had chosen them to lead the world to Him!

     Of course, the psalmist is not finished.  The psalmist draws our attention back to nature, specifically to Mt. Hermon.  Most of us do not know the geography of Israel, but Mt. Hermon is located in the northern part of the country.  Apparently, the mountain is about 9000 ft. high.  Because of wind patterns, though, it receives a great amount of moisture for that arid climate.  The winds blow off the Mediterranean, rise and cool as they hit the mountain, and release their moisture, often in the form of morning dew like we experience in the Appalachians or Rockies, and sometimes in rain.  As a result, Hermon gets about 60 inches of precipitation each year, much of it as foggy dew like we see in TN.  In such an arid climate, it is not too hard for us to imagine the impact of the water.  The vegetation is green and abundant.  Herds can be pastured there easily.  Wild game is abundant.

     But there is a problem for those of us who understand the geography of Israel.  Mt. Zion is about 200 miles south of Mt. Hermon.  How does one get the moisture of Hermon to Zion?  Could it be that the psalmist has an idea that Zion will one day experience the abundance of moisture like Hermon?  Sure.  John reminds us in Revelation that streams of living water will flow from Zion when God recreates the world.  But the focus of the psalmist seems less upon the moisture and more on the image it is meant to portray.  Dew is one of those riches of the earth described in Genesis.  Haggai ties dew to the provision of the heavens.  Isaiah uses the image of dew to proclaim to those who read and hear his word that dew of God will come and cause the earth to give birth to her dead.  

     What’s going on?  The psalmist is using the image of dew to remind God’s people, including us, that our gathering together, that we are drawn into one great relationship.  Because we are God’s people, we are all part of God’s family!  And our unity, our gathering to celebrate what God has done for us, is like the dew or Hermon and the dew of heaven.  Our living as God calls us blesses the world around us, just as our living divided is like an arid wind that drys the life around us.

     As always, the psalm is about Jesus.  But we read it this day in the season of Easter.  How are we united to God and to one another?  Through the work and person of Jesus.  How often does Jesus remind us that we are brothers and sisters in Him?  How often does He command us to love our neighbors as ourselves?  These statements that are popping into our heads are in red letters in our Bible, as I remind some folks who claim to be His disciples but ignore His instructions.  Jesus instructs us to live our lives as a family united by and in Him, that we might be a blessing to the world and draw others into HIs saving embrace from the Cross.  Put in the language of the psalmist today, our family gathering is dew for the arid world!

     There are, as you all know well, a couple banners that hang in our parish hall reminding ourselves and telling those who visit we are a family.  The claim, of course, is that we all recognize we are part of God’s family and, as a result, thankful, joyful, and purposeful.  We don’t look alike.  We don’t always think alike.  We sure as heck don’t all vote alike.  We even have a couple black sheep and crazy aunts and uncles.  But we are united in the simple truth that He has redeemed each one of us and adopted us into His family.  Like all families we put a bit of fun into dysfunction.  We share potluck meals.  We have game nights and talk trash to each other.  We spend time getting to know one another.  We might argue how best to spend our resources.  We might argue over who gets elected to Vestry (in the old days, I know we look for warm bodies today lol).  We might fuss about the color of new carpet or the wattage of the lights.  But we do all that reminded day in and day out, week in and week out, month in and month out that He makes all this possible, that He calls each one of us for His purposes.  And we do that all cognizant that He is every bit at work in the life of our neighbor as He is in our own.

     The world calls it some humility.  Some with church language may say it is missional attitude.  The psalmist reminds us it is dew in an arid land.  Our ability to love one another as a family, and our ability to work together to serve God in our lives, is a special kind of witness.  You and I live in a dog eat dog world.  We live in a divided world.  In other words, we live in an arid world.  These divisions and idols make it challenging for us to live as He calls us and to be taken seriously.  But such is His call on all who claim Him Lord and all who pledge to pick up crosses and follow Him.  We may differ how best to feed the food insecure; we may differ how best to handle immigration; we may have different ideas as how to address homelessness and countless other evils that marginalize others.  But we are united by the Head of our Church and the Author of our salvation that such evils are meant to be addressed, that those suffering are meant to be served, that those on the margins are meant to be drawn into His saving embrace by us.  The psalmist, like God, knows that such reaching out, such inviting, such fellowship or family, will bring forth abundant life in us and in these whom we serve.  It will serve as dew on our own little hill here in Nashville, until He calls forth the streams of living water from Jerusalem and calls us all home.

In His Peace and Fellowship,

Brian+