Joy of the Lord
Third Sunday after Epiphany
January 21, 2007
Nehemiah 8:1-3, 5-6, 8-10
Psalm 19
1 Corinthians 12:12-31a
Luke 4:14-21
I took sabbath time last week, a week away resting and recharging my batteries after Christmas and our 150th anniversary celebration. I was “plumb tuckered out,” to use a technical term. The trip was restful, but getting home was a problem. I found myself stuck at the airport in Washington and eventually had to spend the night there. Any of you who have ever flown know what a difficult position this puts you in.
Those in line around me began by saying that it wouldn’t do any good to get mad, that you just have to accept the inconvenience because it wasn’t anybody’s fault. But then we stood in line one hour, then two. And as people began thinking about their own situation more and more, they got angrier and angrier.
You’d think that the airline industry had singled each of them out individually in order to make their day worse. Now, I will say that the airline was spectacularly unprepared to respond to a predictable situation. But while that situation affected me—and all those around me—it wasn’t about me. Making it that way in dealing with the airline representatives would only have made things worse, and indeed it did make things worse for everyone when some individuals reacted that way.
I was not joyful and it would have been silly to try to be joyful standing in line for hours. But I did do some reading. I did try to keep all my words calm so that at the least, I did not make things worse for those around me.
I did think—Hey, maybe I can get a sermon out of this. I wasn’t sure about that. But then I read the lessons for today. They are about joy, about what is most important in our lives, and about how there are things in this world much more important than me and my problems.
The reading from Nehemiah is about joy. It may not have sounded like that to you, but it’s in there, and I’ll explain. This particular chapter in Nehemiah is the central focus of the books of Ezra and Nehemiah. In fact, these two books originally were one work. Most scholars agree that this chapter, in fact, probably showed up in Ezra rather than here, in Nehemiah.
The Israelites are beginning to come back to Jerusalem from exile. They are learning to live among those who dislike them, dangerous neighbors who distrust the returning Jews. How would they live? Who would they trust? How could they be Jews without a Temple, in a Jerusalem that no longer was the walled city of old?
The priest Ezra gave them instructions—they were not to intermarry with those threatening war against them. They were to hold fast to the historic teachings. They could not be followers of the Law exactly in the way that their ancestors had been, but they could be followers of the Law where they were and when they were.
This is what Ezra wanted to let the people know. The Law of Moses represented the history of the people, the things they had been taught for so many years…this was their religion. This is what made them who they were.
How did the people respond? They held up their hands and said Amen, Amen to what they heard. But then … but then they began to weep.
Ezra looked out over them and said that this emotion was inappropriate—this was no time for tears and sadness. He said, “This day is holy to the Lord your God; do not mourn or weep. Go your way, eat the fat and drink sweet wine and send portions of them to those for whom nothing is prepared, for this day is holy to our Lord; and do not be grieved, for the joy of the Lord is your strength.”
In other words, turn your sadness into joy. When you leave this service of the Word, go and have a party. But why did he have to say this? Why were they crying? And why did Ezra want them to take cheer?
You see, as they listened, they started thinking about how they had forgotten the law, how they had drifted from the teachings of Moses. And instead of rejoicing, their Amens turned to tears. They were ashamed and all they could think about was their shame. They couldn’t hear the good news for the sound of their self-pitying cries in their ears.
Ezra’s reaction is common in the Jewish tradition. Rabbi Joshua Heschel suggests that joy is the only emotion truly made for the Sabbath. he says that it is a sin to grieve on a Sabbath day. That’s because nothing is more important in the world than our relationship with the Lord.
It’s easy to forget that—that our relationship with the Lord outranks anything else in this life, on the Sabbath or at any time.
A good friend of mine is a priest in charge of a parish in another diocese, and he tells me that joy is not the overriding emotion in that parish. He’s there because it’s a troubled place and his bishop hopes he can help them come together. But years, decades of drifting and squabbling don’t augur well. They’re in my prayers every week. One of the problems, my friend tells me, is that there are some folks there who have their priorities out of order. Instead of coming to worship, some of them come to be part of what sounds like a dysfunctional social club.
Instead of putting the Lord at the center of their experience, they put their own emotions at the center. It’s a competition to see who can be in charge, who gets elected to what, who can complain the most about decisions made by others, who can be the unhappiest about something.
Let’s just say that when we compare notes, and he hears about the love and joy to be found at St. Luke’s … well, he’s been known to ask if I’d like to trade places. You can imagine what my answer is.
In thinking about our different parish lives, I think about what Ezra said—that we are to come in happiness to hear the Word of the Lord, that we are to be energized and joyful at the very thought of worshiping the Lord. As they say in the African-American church: God is good, all the time; all the time, God is good. That’s a teaching that brings joy—all the time.
And I think about what Paul said to the Corinthians. In that faraway parish where my friend worships, there is strife and grief over who gets to be a hand and who gets to be an eye. One says to the other, “I have no need of you.” One sees himself as the body, one sees herself as the whole. They see their little parish as the center of Christendom. They confuse the parts with the whole. They confuse their personal needs and their little parish with the needs of God, with the greater church of God. One of my friend’s goals as a parish leader is to help them remember that everyone is important but that no one’s wishes outrank all the others. To remember that they are part of the body of Christ, each with gifts to offer. To remember that God wants them to come together with joy, not with strife, but with joy to worship the Lord.
When I come into a church to worship, it’s about me and my relationship with the Lord. But it’s not only about me. It’s about those I worship with. It’s about my community. It’s about the head, the foot, the eye, the hand all together—all together, worshiping the Lord with joy. For the joy of the Lord is our strength.
Amen, Amen.
January 21, 2007
Nehemiah 8:1-3, 5-6, 8-10
Psalm 19
1 Corinthians 12:12-31a
Luke 4:14-21
I took sabbath time last week, a week away resting and recharging my batteries after Christmas and our 150th anniversary celebration. I was “plumb tuckered out,” to use a technical term. The trip was restful, but getting home was a problem. I found myself stuck at the airport in Washington and eventually had to spend the night there. Any of you who have ever flown know what a difficult position this puts you in.
Those in line around me began by saying that it wouldn’t do any good to get mad, that you just have to accept the inconvenience because it wasn’t anybody’s fault. But then we stood in line one hour, then two. And as people began thinking about their own situation more and more, they got angrier and angrier.
You’d think that the airline industry had singled each of them out individually in order to make their day worse. Now, I will say that the airline was spectacularly unprepared to respond to a predictable situation. But while that situation affected me—and all those around me—it wasn’t about me. Making it that way in dealing with the airline representatives would only have made things worse, and indeed it did make things worse for everyone when some individuals reacted that way.
I was not joyful and it would have been silly to try to be joyful standing in line for hours. But I did do some reading. I did try to keep all my words calm so that at the least, I did not make things worse for those around me.
I did think—Hey, maybe I can get a sermon out of this. I wasn’t sure about that. But then I read the lessons for today. They are about joy, about what is most important in our lives, and about how there are things in this world much more important than me and my problems.
The reading from Nehemiah is about joy. It may not have sounded like that to you, but it’s in there, and I’ll explain. This particular chapter in Nehemiah is the central focus of the books of Ezra and Nehemiah. In fact, these two books originally were one work. Most scholars agree that this chapter, in fact, probably showed up in Ezra rather than here, in Nehemiah.
The Israelites are beginning to come back to Jerusalem from exile. They are learning to live among those who dislike them, dangerous neighbors who distrust the returning Jews. How would they live? Who would they trust? How could they be Jews without a Temple, in a Jerusalem that no longer was the walled city of old?
The priest Ezra gave them instructions—they were not to intermarry with those threatening war against them. They were to hold fast to the historic teachings. They could not be followers of the Law exactly in the way that their ancestors had been, but they could be followers of the Law where they were and when they were.
This is what Ezra wanted to let the people know. The Law of Moses represented the history of the people, the things they had been taught for so many years…this was their religion. This is what made them who they were.
How did the people respond? They held up their hands and said Amen, Amen to what they heard. But then … but then they began to weep.
Ezra looked out over them and said that this emotion was inappropriate—this was no time for tears and sadness. He said, “This day is holy to the Lord your God; do not mourn or weep. Go your way, eat the fat and drink sweet wine and send portions of them to those for whom nothing is prepared, for this day is holy to our Lord; and do not be grieved, for the joy of the Lord is your strength.”
In other words, turn your sadness into joy. When you leave this service of the Word, go and have a party. But why did he have to say this? Why were they crying? And why did Ezra want them to take cheer?
You see, as they listened, they started thinking about how they had forgotten the law, how they had drifted from the teachings of Moses. And instead of rejoicing, their Amens turned to tears. They were ashamed and all they could think about was their shame. They couldn’t hear the good news for the sound of their self-pitying cries in their ears.
Ezra’s reaction is common in the Jewish tradition. Rabbi Joshua Heschel suggests that joy is the only emotion truly made for the Sabbath. he says that it is a sin to grieve on a Sabbath day. That’s because nothing is more important in the world than our relationship with the Lord.
It’s easy to forget that—that our relationship with the Lord outranks anything else in this life, on the Sabbath or at any time.
A good friend of mine is a priest in charge of a parish in another diocese, and he tells me that joy is not the overriding emotion in that parish. He’s there because it’s a troubled place and his bishop hopes he can help them come together. But years, decades of drifting and squabbling don’t augur well. They’re in my prayers every week. One of the problems, my friend tells me, is that there are some folks there who have their priorities out of order. Instead of coming to worship, some of them come to be part of what sounds like a dysfunctional social club.
Instead of putting the Lord at the center of their experience, they put their own emotions at the center. It’s a competition to see who can be in charge, who gets elected to what, who can complain the most about decisions made by others, who can be the unhappiest about something.
Let’s just say that when we compare notes, and he hears about the love and joy to be found at St. Luke’s … well, he’s been known to ask if I’d like to trade places. You can imagine what my answer is.
In thinking about our different parish lives, I think about what Ezra said—that we are to come in happiness to hear the Word of the Lord, that we are to be energized and joyful at the very thought of worshiping the Lord. As they say in the African-American church: God is good, all the time; all the time, God is good. That’s a teaching that brings joy—all the time.
And I think about what Paul said to the Corinthians. In that faraway parish where my friend worships, there is strife and grief over who gets to be a hand and who gets to be an eye. One says to the other, “I have no need of you.” One sees himself as the body, one sees herself as the whole. They see their little parish as the center of Christendom. They confuse the parts with the whole. They confuse their personal needs and their little parish with the needs of God, with the greater church of God. One of my friend’s goals as a parish leader is to help them remember that everyone is important but that no one’s wishes outrank all the others. To remember that they are part of the body of Christ, each with gifts to offer. To remember that God wants them to come together with joy, not with strife, but with joy to worship the Lord.
When I come into a church to worship, it’s about me and my relationship with the Lord. But it’s not only about me. It’s about those I worship with. It’s about my community. It’s about the head, the foot, the eye, the hand all together—all together, worshiping the Lord with joy. For the joy of the Lord is our strength.
Amen, Amen.
posted by Michael+ at 3:09 PM
