Sermon for North Hill Adventist Fellowship
Sabbath, August 4, 2012
Texts: Matthew 9:17, Mark 2:22, Luke
5:37
Berry season lasts most of the summer
at our house. Strawberries, then raspberries. Now, it's blueberries.
In a few weeks it will be blackberry season.
To pick berries and pop them in my
mouth requires no equipment, no container. But the minute I dream of
sharing berries or putting some in the freezer, I must have a
container. And, since my goal every year is to put 50 quarts of
blackberries in the freezer, I give a lot of thought to containers.
For several years I tried different bowls and kettles. Then I
discovered the perfect container for picking. It's a blue enameled
camp kettle with brackets on each side to which I can attach a strap
that I sling over my shoulder. Using this bucket I have both hands
free and I have complete freedom of movement.
The treasure is the berries. I'm not
out there picking berries for the pleasure of carrying around my blue
enamel kettle. I'm out there for the treasure hiding among the thorns
of the blackberry canes. Still, the container is absolutely
indispensable. And the right container is much better than all the
others I have tried.
The proper container is rigid enough to
protect the berries from crushing as I work around the vines. The
strap allows me to forget the kettle while I'm picking and give full
attention to the berries. The container to be small enough not to get
in the way and large enough so I don't waste too much time
transferring berries from my picking container to the large holding
bowl. The treasure is the berries. But the bucket matters.
Curiously, even though I find my blue
enamel kettle with its strap the perfect container for berries, my
daughter uses something completely different. Her container has no
strap. And it is definitely not a blue enamel kettle. What's even
more curious is that in spite of the fact that I have not been able
to persuade my daughter that a bucket with a strap is the best way to
go, she picks faster than I do.
Religion is the bucket for
spirituality. The bucket matters. What's in the bucket matters even
more. Sometimes a new generation discovers a container that works
better than dad's bucket, at least in their hands.
Recently I was visiting with a young
man who grew up in the church. He attended Adventist schools. He went
to Sabbath School and church every week. He participated in
Pathfinders (the Adventist version of Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts).
Then after he got out of college he discovered he could do quite well
without church. He had a woman in his life he loved. He had a job
that was interesting. He was healthy. He didn't believe everything he
heard in the church of his childhood. But now he was thinking about
having kids. He found himself wondering just what values, beliefs and
practices from his childhood he still believed in. What did he want
to pass on to his kids?
Flat out rejection of everything in the
religion of his childhood would be silly. On the other hand he could
not imagine himself simply stepping back into the old traditions,
lock, stock and barrel. He wanted to keep what was true, beautiful,
and helpful. He wanted to jettison anything that was faulty or out of
date or counterproductive.
Our conversation got me thinking. Of
all the traditions the church has embraced over the last 150-plus
years which ones do we keep? Which ones do we modify? Which ones do
we jettison?
Some people imagine that true religion
should be changeless. Let's just do it the way Jesus and the
disciples did. But Jesus himself emphatically rejected the notion of
a changeless religion.
Consider this:
Once when John's
disciples and the Pharisees were fasting, some people came to Jesus
and asked, "Why don't your disciples fast like John's disciples
and the Pharisees do? Jesus replied, "Do wedding guests fast
while celebrating with the groom? Of course not. They can't fast
while the groom is with them. But someday the groom will be taken
away from them, and then they will fast. "Besides, who would
patch old clothing with new cloth? For the new patch would shrink and
rip away from the old cloth, leaving an even bigger tear than before.
"And no one puts new wine into old wineskins. For the wine would
burst the wineskins, and the wine and the skins would both be lost.
New wine calls for new wineskins." Mark 2:18-22. (The same story
is told in Matthew 9:14-17 and Luke 5:33-39.).
People observed Jesus' disciples
violating some of the standard rules for devout religious living.
Jewish religious practice had been worked out by rabbis over hundreds
of years of intense Bible study and prayer. These practices were
intended to help people keep in mind God's holiness and their special
relationship with him. The goal of the rabbis was to ensure the
people never again fell into the evil ways that had led to the
destruction of Jerusalem and the banishment of the Jewish people to
Babylong. The rabbis aimed to help live pure lives and obey all God's
laws to the letter, so life would go well with them.
It is vital to understand that the
traditions the disciples were ignoring had been designed to serve a
high and noble purpose. The disciples' casual disregard for ancient
habits was scandalous. The critics, the advocates of “high
standards,” could not understand how someone like Jesus would
tolerate such flippant disregard of holy tradition. One of the
specific traditions ignored by the disciples was systematic fasting.
What they were doing would be like a Muslim eating lunch during
Ramadan or an Adventist bringing steak to potluck. To the critics it
appeared to be crass secularization.
Jesus' answer to the critics: People at
a wedding reception don't fast. They party. Fasting comes later.
Jesus blithely dismisses a couple
hundred years of tradition by saying it didn't fit the present
situation. Jesus agreed that fasting had a place in spiritual life,
then blithely dismissed as inappropriate NOW. Jesus emphatically,
unequivocally declares that religious practice, at least the one in
question, was not eternal, it is situation dependent. Sometimes
people should fast and sometimes people should feast. Life as Jesus
lived it and taught it, included both fasting and feasting. Praying
and partying.
Taking this as an example of a general
principle, we should expect the ideal forms of religion to change
over time. “Changelessness” is not a Christian virtue. It is
rather a symptom of death.
Recently someone asked about my views
regarding a particular religious practice. They observed a trend
among Adventist young adults that troubled them, then said, “That's
not the way we did it when I was young.” My response (in my head,
not out loud) was, “What's that got to do with anything?” Then I
repented—but only slightly. :-)
The fact that the church used to
prescribe or proscribe a particular behavior is interesting
information. It is not an authoritative guide to what we should be
doing now. Religious traditions usually get started for very good
reasons. So discarding tradition is not something to be done lightly.
But sometimes change is the only smart and holy choice.
Catholics got caught in the rut of
doing church in Latin. When they began using Latin, it was an
innovation. They were moving from Greek—a language understood by
fewer and fewer people—to the “English” of its day, the
language most widely spoken. A thousand years later when no one spoke
Latin except the intelligentsia, the church was still stuck using
Latin. Most of the people understood not a word that was said.
Adventists got stuck reading the King
James Version of the Bible and using quaint, out-of-date language in
prayer.
Both Latin and “King James English”
became the languages of worship for good reasons. And both were
eventually replaced with something more modern—again for very good
reason. Good religion, religion that genuinely connects people and
God, will change over time. That's what Jesus taught. It's what he
modeled. Changeless religion is a fossil, interesting to look at but
dead.
Since we are followers of Jesus, we
should expect that our religion—the forms and traditions, the
doctrines and practices that express and nourish our spiritual
life—will change with time and situation.
This is the plain meaning of Jesus'
words about fasting and feasting.
Now to Jesus' words about wine and
wineskins:
No one puts new
wine into old wineskins. For the wine would burst the wineskins, and
the wine and the skins would both be lost. New wine calls for new
wineskins.
Jesus compares spiritual life to a
liquid. He warns against the foolishness of trying to confine the
vibrant life of the Spirit in the brittle structures of ancient
tradition. When there is a vital surge of spiritual life, it will
break established forms, always. We cannot confine the present work
of the Spirit in the “ways we have always done it before.”
Just as surely, you cannot have a vital
spiritual life without the sturdy forms of religion. New wine skins
are flexible, but they tough and strong. Jesus does not argue for a
formless, featureless spirituality. Jesus would laugh at people who
say, “I'm spiritual, but not religious.” That is plainly
impossible.
Religion is the form spiritual life
takes. And religion is the container in which spirituality lives. We
cannot dispense with religion. We can embrace healthier, more
effective forms of religion. We can engage in religious practices
that promote happiness, health, congenial relationships, service,
stewardship of the earth, gratitude, responsibility, sweet
relationships at home. Or we can embrace forms that erode and cripple
the spirit. The choice is ours.
Spirituality is amorphous, fluid,
volatile. For it to be effective in our lives, it must be contained,
channeled. This becomes especially obvious when you think of
communicating spirituality to children. You cannot teach little ones
grand, abstract theology. Instead you teach them Bible stories. You
tell them the story of the Prodigal Son and the Lost Sheep. We recite
the story of the Good Samaritan and the Sheep and Goats. We teach
children to say grace before we try to explain understand the concept
of gratitude. We teach the do's and don't's of Sabbath-keeping before
kids could possibly understand the value of rest and rhythm in life.
We structure children's eating habits before they have any idea what
the word “health” means. These structures, habits and practices
are the essence of religion.
So my young friend's quest to figure
out what he still believes, what traditions and practices from his
childhood to retain and which to let go, and maybe what new
traditions to create—this quest is right on. It is the wisest, best
approach to religion for young adults. Don't dump the religion of
your childhood. Don't copy it. Use it as a springboard for fashioning
afresh a lively, effective religious life that will nourish your own
spirituality and will shape and sustain your children as they grow.
Your children need you to fashion
supple, tough wineskins to hold the precious life of the Spirit. Your
children need you to take your blue enamel bucket with the strap or
the Tupperware bowl or whatever container works and go gather a
treasure of berries. Gather enough for now and enough for
Thanksgiving pies and enough for cobbler next April.
The treasure in the bucket is worth
finding the very best bucket. Your kids and your friends deserve the
treasure you will gather.
Final note (for people at church and
readers on the web): I invite you to submit lists of practices and
beliefs that you have found helpful or detrimental. Or if a list
doesn't work, send me your stories of how religion has helped or
harmed you.
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