Poems, Prayers & Promises
October 24, 2010
Rev. Susan E. Gilbert Zencka
Frame Memorial Presbyterian Church
Texts: Jeremiah 31:27-34; 2 Corinthians 9:6-9; Luke 18:1-8
Okay, I have to give credit where credit is due. Those of you of a certain age will know anyway that the sermon title is not original with me. It was actually the title of a John Denver song – John Denver was a popular singer during the 70’s and 80’s who died young in a plane crash about 15 years ago.
I find titling sermons to be very difficult – especially because I have to have the title before I’ve written the sermon. So as I considered the readings for this week, I thought about how much they were about promises and prayer….and then decided to steal John Denver’s title, and it turns out the poetry part may be the most important…so I’ll save it for last.
Starting at the end, with promises – the reading from Jeremiah is sometimes seen as the theological heart of that prophet’s work. Jeremiah was a prophet to the southern kingdom of Judah while threats against Judah were building, and after Babylon had successfully invaded Judah and driven most of the elite class into exile in Babylon. We heard last week about God’s word to the exiles, urging them to build homes, live in the homes, marry, have children, and let the children marry. They were urged not to hold back, not to wait, but to build lives where they were. It was a hard good news – instead of hearing that “better times are coming” the people were told, essentially, to find the good in where they were.
And now, two chapters later, God assures them that they are still God’s people. The covenant is still operative…and God is going to write a new covenant – on people’s hearts. Although this passage sounds negative, with references to death for sin, and teeth on edge, it’s really quite an amazing passage – remember that the theology guiding much of the Hebrew Scriptures is that God deals with Israel collectively, and that as many of the people turn from following God, the nation is punished. But this passage seems to suggest that God is no longer going to deal with people in that way: “They will no longer say: ‘The parents have eaten sour grapes, and the children’s teeth are set on edge.’ But all shall die for their own sins; the teeth of everyone who eats sour grapes shall be set on edge.” It’s an odd metaphor, but it seems to be saying, each person will relate to God on their own – nonetheless, the passage still underscores the importance of community, and indeed, the importance of the nation, for it continues with what must come as very good news to a nation in exile: “The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and the house of Judah. It will not be like the covenant that I made with their ancestors when I took them by the hand to bring them out of the land of Egypt – a covenant that they broke, though I was their husband, says the Lord.” God is reminding the people of his faithfulness to them – beginning with delivering them from slavery in Egypt, and continuing on as God behaves as a faithful husband. But then, even after reminding them that God has been faithful while the people have not been, God continues, “But this is the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel after those days, says the Lord: I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts; and I will be their God, and they shall be my people. No longer shall they teach one another, or say to each other, ‘Know the Lord,” for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, says the Lord; for I will forgive their iniquity, and remember their sin no more.”
This is amazing news! God has not abandoned this people. As bad as things are – while the Temple was destroyed, Jerusalem conquered, and the leaders sent into exile – they are still God’s people. And God is affirming the covenant, and indeed, deepening it – it will no longer be a law-based covenant, but it is a heart-based covenant that God will keep regardless of the sin of the people. At this time, when there is no temple at which to make sacrifices, no priests to mediate a relationship with God, God affirms that mediation is no longer necessary, that at God’s initiative, the people are bound to God, and God to them, at the heart level. God has made a promise to God’s people.
And yet, despite the promise, life isn’t changing very soon. They are still captives, exiled in Babylon, still waiting for freedom, still waiting for home.
Waiting seems to be a big part of the Gospel passage too. And it’s particularly interesting there, because in the passage that precede this episode is a marvelous moment of conversation between Jesus and the religious leaders: “Once Jesus was asked by the Pharisees when the kingdom of God was coming, and he answered, ‘The kingdom of God is not coming with things that can be observed; nor will they say, ‘Look, here it is!' or ‘There it is!’ For, in fact, the kingdom of God is among you.”
Yet, just a little later in the text, comes this parable, which is introduced as a parable Jesus told in order to encourage people “…to pray always, and not to lose hope.” And this is a clue that all is not straightforward, because why would people lose hope if the kingdom of God is already realized? And this is why theologians tend to describe the kingdom of God as having both an “already” and a “not yet” dimension – Jesus has assured us that the kingdom of God is among us – another promise! – but clearly it is not the messianic age that people associated with the kingdom of God. The messianic age was what the people at the time of Jesus anticipated would take place once the messiah came – it would be an era of right relationships, of peace and justice, when God’s kingdom comes, it would be when God’s will is done on earth as it is in heaven. So Luke, in placing these episodes near one another, is assuring people that even though the kingdom of God is present among us, and all is not yet well, still, God is at work and we need not lose heart. I should note that I read the analysis of one minister who suggests by saying “The kingdom of God is among you” Jesus is saying that it is up to us to bring the evidence of God’s kingdom into our relationships, up to us to bring justice about.
And so we should pray. Luke’s Gospel has an emphasis on prayer that is more evident than the other Gospels. Not only are there parables, such as this one, about prayer that are not present in the other gospels, but Luke also, in narrating events that are described in other gospels, adds information about Jesus praying that the other gospels don’t include.
This particular episode is more interesting once we understand more about the ancient Middle East. There was probably no one with less status than a widow. Women were extremely restricted at this time: women were not allowed to speak to strangers, or to testify in court. The Hebrew word for widow suggests one who is silent. So the story Jesus tells is ironic, and would have been recognized as such – this widow is not accepting her silence. She speaks up for herself, and speaks up persistently. She is not accepting the status quo. And this is the model that Jesus gives us for prayer – no polite murmuring, but a persistent assault on God. Actually, in the parable, at one point the judge says, “While I have no fear of God and no respect for anyone, yet because this widow keeps bothering me, I will grant her justice, so that she may not wear me out by continually coming.” The phrase that is translated as “wear me out” is more literally, “give me a black eye” – it is as if the judge were saying, “I will grant her justice, so that she may not keep battering me.” Of course, this is an absurd idea – that the judge, who has both the personal power of being a man, and the official power of being a judge, should be in any way beaten down by the powerless widow – and the folks listening would have understood this. Yet, the point of the story is really to say, “If this shameless judge granted justice to a powerless widow about whom he didn’t care, how much more will God grant justice to the people whom he loves.” At the same time, the image of prayer is indeed one of persistence and audacity. Regardless of how we understand prayer – whether we speak to God, share silence with God, pray while we walk or in stillness, our prayer should be characterized more by persistence and boldness than by politeness. Pray always, says Jesus, and do not lose hope.
So there we have promises and prayer. And actually, both passages are really about both – the Jeremiah passage about covenant talks about how God writes on our hearts, the Luke passage about prayer is built of the foundation of the loving God who is committed to God’s people.
So what about poetry?? As I thought about poetry, I thought about it as non-linear language – literature that conveys as much in its beauty and mood as in its logic. Poetry, like theology, often dances around what it is saying, conveying the sense of something without resorting to explanation. Think about what is conveyed in the following two descriptions:
“I was driving through the woods when it was snowing, and I stopped and noticed the beauty of a part of the forest owned by a fellow in town. I didn’t have time to linger though as I had much to do, so I resumed my journey.” And,
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Much of what is conveyed in the poem is conveyed by mood, by the repetition, by the sounds of the words and the sounds in the picture created by them. That is, not everything is said in the poem – it has a non-rational quality about it, not irrational, but non-rational. Not everything is conveyed by logical explanation. It conveys a different kind of knowledge than rationalism.
And so too, with faith. Faith isn’t irrational, but there are dimensions that are non-rational. It speaks a different language than rationalism. It describes experiences that are larger, deeper and truer than simple material relationships. So that when Jeremiah tells us that God writes the covenant on our hearts – he isn’t saying that there is some physical mark of God on us, he is using poetic language to convey that at the level of our deepest selves, at the center of what makes us alive, each of us is connected to God, because God has reached out to us in love.
The Gospel passage ends with a question: When the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth? If faith is limited to belief, then he will find it both present and absent – because when we limit our faith to the rational, and whether we believe something or not, then our thoughts are often more focused on what we don’t believe. Belief isn’t enough to carry us through a dark and lonely night. Belief isn’t enough to fire us to seek justice. Belief isn’t enough, and neither is reason. They are both important, but not sufficient. Faith and poetry speak beyond the limits of belief and prose.
Nonetheless, I wasn’t sure I had a clear understanding of the poetic dimension, so I emailed my daughter-in-law, Shenandoah, who is a poet, and asked her what poetry is, and Shen wrote back, “Most simply, I'd say that poetry is patterned language. What makes a poem a poem is the presence of deliberate pattern and rhythm.” And so I found in that another affirmation for the similarity between theology and poetry, for we discover our theology in part from the patterns we discern in life and in the Bible.
And Paul’s letter to the Corinthians is a perfect example of this. He writes: Remember this saying, “A few seeds make a small harvest, but a lot of seeds make a big harvest.” Each of you must make up your own mind about how much to give. But don't feel sorry that you must give and don't feel that you are forced to give. God loves people who love to give. God can bless you with everything you need, and you will always have more than enough to do all kinds of good things for others. The Scriptures say, “God freely gives his gifts to the poor, and always does right.” Paul is appealing to a rhythm of life in which God’s generosity forms a pattern: God gives to us in creation, God gives to us in God’s Word, God gives to us in Jesus Christ, God gives to us in community, God gives God’s love to us, and beyond this passage God gives us a covenant written on our hearts, God gives in answer to prayer – giving is of the nature of God. We discern this from the pattern, from the rhythm of life God establishes. And so we continue the poem in our own life – we give because God has given to us. We give because we understand that in God, we have more than enough. We give because we want to be generous people. And when we give more, we build a richer life than when we give a little – it’s not logical, but we find it to be true. We give because we believe in this community and want it to be more than enough, too. And we give because we want to be more than enough – we don’t want to live out of the model of scarcity that the prose world describes, but we want to live out of the abundance of the kingdom of God.
Poems, prayers and promises – all three are part of the rhythm of the life of faith. We are claimed by the promises, we are formed by prayer, and poetry teaches us truth: poetry speaks to our mind, heart and soul, poetry speaks in a larger language for truths that exceed the limits of prose…. such as the truths of our faith. Amen.
Frame Memorial Presbyterian Church
Texts: Jeremiah 31:27-34; 2 Corinthians 9:6-9; Luke 18:1-8
Okay, I have to give credit where credit is due. Those of you of a certain age will know anyway that the sermon title is not original with me. It was actually the title of a John Denver song – John Denver was a popular singer during the 70’s and 80’s who died young in a plane crash about 15 years ago.
I find titling sermons to be very difficult – especially because I have to have the title before I’ve written the sermon. So as I considered the readings for this week, I thought about how much they were about promises and prayer….and then decided to steal John Denver’s title, and it turns out the poetry part may be the most important…so I’ll save it for last.
Starting at the end, with promises – the reading from Jeremiah is sometimes seen as the theological heart of that prophet’s work. Jeremiah was a prophet to the southern kingdom of Judah while threats against Judah were building, and after Babylon had successfully invaded Judah and driven most of the elite class into exile in Babylon. We heard last week about God’s word to the exiles, urging them to build homes, live in the homes, marry, have children, and let the children marry. They were urged not to hold back, not to wait, but to build lives where they were. It was a hard good news – instead of hearing that “better times are coming” the people were told, essentially, to find the good in where they were.
And now, two chapters later, God assures them that they are still God’s people. The covenant is still operative…and God is going to write a new covenant – on people’s hearts. Although this passage sounds negative, with references to death for sin, and teeth on edge, it’s really quite an amazing passage – remember that the theology guiding much of the Hebrew Scriptures is that God deals with Israel collectively, and that as many of the people turn from following God, the nation is punished. But this passage seems to suggest that God is no longer going to deal with people in that way: “They will no longer say: ‘The parents have eaten sour grapes, and the children’s teeth are set on edge.’ But all shall die for their own sins; the teeth of everyone who eats sour grapes shall be set on edge.” It’s an odd metaphor, but it seems to be saying, each person will relate to God on their own – nonetheless, the passage still underscores the importance of community, and indeed, the importance of the nation, for it continues with what must come as very good news to a nation in exile: “The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and the house of Judah. It will not be like the covenant that I made with their ancestors when I took them by the hand to bring them out of the land of Egypt – a covenant that they broke, though I was their husband, says the Lord.” God is reminding the people of his faithfulness to them – beginning with delivering them from slavery in Egypt, and continuing on as God behaves as a faithful husband. But then, even after reminding them that God has been faithful while the people have not been, God continues, “But this is the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel after those days, says the Lord: I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts; and I will be their God, and they shall be my people. No longer shall they teach one another, or say to each other, ‘Know the Lord,” for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, says the Lord; for I will forgive their iniquity, and remember their sin no more.”
This is amazing news! God has not abandoned this people. As bad as things are – while the Temple was destroyed, Jerusalem conquered, and the leaders sent into exile – they are still God’s people. And God is affirming the covenant, and indeed, deepening it – it will no longer be a law-based covenant, but it is a heart-based covenant that God will keep regardless of the sin of the people. At this time, when there is no temple at which to make sacrifices, no priests to mediate a relationship with God, God affirms that mediation is no longer necessary, that at God’s initiative, the people are bound to God, and God to them, at the heart level. God has made a promise to God’s people.
And yet, despite the promise, life isn’t changing very soon. They are still captives, exiled in Babylon, still waiting for freedom, still waiting for home.
Waiting seems to be a big part of the Gospel passage too. And it’s particularly interesting there, because in the passage that precede this episode is a marvelous moment of conversation between Jesus and the religious leaders: “Once Jesus was asked by the Pharisees when the kingdom of God was coming, and he answered, ‘The kingdom of God is not coming with things that can be observed; nor will they say, ‘Look, here it is!' or ‘There it is!’ For, in fact, the kingdom of God is among you.”
Yet, just a little later in the text, comes this parable, which is introduced as a parable Jesus told in order to encourage people “…to pray always, and not to lose hope.” And this is a clue that all is not straightforward, because why would people lose hope if the kingdom of God is already realized? And this is why theologians tend to describe the kingdom of God as having both an “already” and a “not yet” dimension – Jesus has assured us that the kingdom of God is among us – another promise! – but clearly it is not the messianic age that people associated with the kingdom of God. The messianic age was what the people at the time of Jesus anticipated would take place once the messiah came – it would be an era of right relationships, of peace and justice, when God’s kingdom comes, it would be when God’s will is done on earth as it is in heaven. So Luke, in placing these episodes near one another, is assuring people that even though the kingdom of God is present among us, and all is not yet well, still, God is at work and we need not lose heart. I should note that I read the analysis of one minister who suggests by saying “The kingdom of God is among you” Jesus is saying that it is up to us to bring the evidence of God’s kingdom into our relationships, up to us to bring justice about.
And so we should pray. Luke’s Gospel has an emphasis on prayer that is more evident than the other Gospels. Not only are there parables, such as this one, about prayer that are not present in the other gospels, but Luke also, in narrating events that are described in other gospels, adds information about Jesus praying that the other gospels don’t include.
This particular episode is more interesting once we understand more about the ancient Middle East. There was probably no one with less status than a widow. Women were extremely restricted at this time: women were not allowed to speak to strangers, or to testify in court. The Hebrew word for widow suggests one who is silent. So the story Jesus tells is ironic, and would have been recognized as such – this widow is not accepting her silence. She speaks up for herself, and speaks up persistently. She is not accepting the status quo. And this is the model that Jesus gives us for prayer – no polite murmuring, but a persistent assault on God. Actually, in the parable, at one point the judge says, “While I have no fear of God and no respect for anyone, yet because this widow keeps bothering me, I will grant her justice, so that she may not wear me out by continually coming.” The phrase that is translated as “wear me out” is more literally, “give me a black eye” – it is as if the judge were saying, “I will grant her justice, so that she may not keep battering me.” Of course, this is an absurd idea – that the judge, who has both the personal power of being a man, and the official power of being a judge, should be in any way beaten down by the powerless widow – and the folks listening would have understood this. Yet, the point of the story is really to say, “If this shameless judge granted justice to a powerless widow about whom he didn’t care, how much more will God grant justice to the people whom he loves.” At the same time, the image of prayer is indeed one of persistence and audacity. Regardless of how we understand prayer – whether we speak to God, share silence with God, pray while we walk or in stillness, our prayer should be characterized more by persistence and boldness than by politeness. Pray always, says Jesus, and do not lose hope.
So there we have promises and prayer. And actually, both passages are really about both – the Jeremiah passage about covenant talks about how God writes on our hearts, the Luke passage about prayer is built of the foundation of the loving God who is committed to God’s people.
So what about poetry?? As I thought about poetry, I thought about it as non-linear language – literature that conveys as much in its beauty and mood as in its logic. Poetry, like theology, often dances around what it is saying, conveying the sense of something without resorting to explanation. Think about what is conveyed in the following two descriptions:
“I was driving through the woods when it was snowing, and I stopped and noticed the beauty of a part of the forest owned by a fellow in town. I didn’t have time to linger though as I had much to do, so I resumed my journey.” And,
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Much of what is conveyed in the poem is conveyed by mood, by the repetition, by the sounds of the words and the sounds in the picture created by them. That is, not everything is said in the poem – it has a non-rational quality about it, not irrational, but non-rational. Not everything is conveyed by logical explanation. It conveys a different kind of knowledge than rationalism.
And so too, with faith. Faith isn’t irrational, but there are dimensions that are non-rational. It speaks a different language than rationalism. It describes experiences that are larger, deeper and truer than simple material relationships. So that when Jeremiah tells us that God writes the covenant on our hearts – he isn’t saying that there is some physical mark of God on us, he is using poetic language to convey that at the level of our deepest selves, at the center of what makes us alive, each of us is connected to God, because God has reached out to us in love.
The Gospel passage ends with a question: When the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth? If faith is limited to belief, then he will find it both present and absent – because when we limit our faith to the rational, and whether we believe something or not, then our thoughts are often more focused on what we don’t believe. Belief isn’t enough to carry us through a dark and lonely night. Belief isn’t enough to fire us to seek justice. Belief isn’t enough, and neither is reason. They are both important, but not sufficient. Faith and poetry speak beyond the limits of belief and prose.
Nonetheless, I wasn’t sure I had a clear understanding of the poetic dimension, so I emailed my daughter-in-law, Shenandoah, who is a poet, and asked her what poetry is, and Shen wrote back, “Most simply, I'd say that poetry is patterned language. What makes a poem a poem is the presence of deliberate pattern and rhythm.” And so I found in that another affirmation for the similarity between theology and poetry, for we discover our theology in part from the patterns we discern in life and in the Bible.
And Paul’s letter to the Corinthians is a perfect example of this. He writes: Remember this saying, “A few seeds make a small harvest, but a lot of seeds make a big harvest.” Each of you must make up your own mind about how much to give. But don't feel sorry that you must give and don't feel that you are forced to give. God loves people who love to give. God can bless you with everything you need, and you will always have more than enough to do all kinds of good things for others. The Scriptures say, “God freely gives his gifts to the poor, and always does right.” Paul is appealing to a rhythm of life in which God’s generosity forms a pattern: God gives to us in creation, God gives to us in God’s Word, God gives to us in Jesus Christ, God gives to us in community, God gives God’s love to us, and beyond this passage God gives us a covenant written on our hearts, God gives in answer to prayer – giving is of the nature of God. We discern this from the pattern, from the rhythm of life God establishes. And so we continue the poem in our own life – we give because God has given to us. We give because we understand that in God, we have more than enough. We give because we want to be generous people. And when we give more, we build a richer life than when we give a little – it’s not logical, but we find it to be true. We give because we believe in this community and want it to be more than enough, too. And we give because we want to be more than enough – we don’t want to live out of the model of scarcity that the prose world describes, but we want to live out of the abundance of the kingdom of God.
Poems, prayers and promises – all three are part of the rhythm of the life of faith. We are claimed by the promises, we are formed by prayer, and poetry teaches us truth: poetry speaks to our mind, heart and soul, poetry speaks in a larger language for truths that exceed the limits of prose…. such as the truths of our faith. Amen.