Month: April 2012
April 22nd: Rhythms of Grace Training Session
All volunteers for Rhythms of Grace will meet at 12:30 pm in the 8th grade classroom in the Education Building. Catherine Hughes, a special education teacher in Hanover County Schools, will provide training on working with children and youth with special needs. Pizza will be available.
Unlocked Doors
A Sermon for the Second Sunday of Easter
Year B – 15 April 2012
David Hathaway Knight, Priest Associate
In the Name of God who is Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
“When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear …., Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you.’ After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again,’ Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.”
On this Second Sunday of Easter, it is important to remember that last Sunday, the Sunday of the Resurrection, was only the beginning of the seven weeks, the great fifty days of the Easter season. We refer to these Sundays not as the Sundays after Easter, but rather the Sundays of Easter. For these fifty days the emphasis of our worship centers upon what it means to be a community that is shaped by the death and resurrection of Jesus. For these fifty days our focus is on the reality of life that is victorious over death. All too often in our culture, we think of Easter as what we celebrated last Sunday alone, and then all is back to the way it was, but not so. But even on that first Easter Day, the impact of Jesus’ resurrection upon the disciples could not be sustained even until that night, or until the following week. In today’s gospel reading we find the disciples huddled in fear behind doors that they had closed and locked. We remember that only that morning they had heard from the women who had discovered the stone rolled away from the entrance to the tomb that was now empty, but it had not sunk in and still they were in fear. That first Easter hardly sounds like the brass, the drums, the organ and voices that broke out last Sunday across the landscape of Christianity in joyful “Alleluias!” for the lives of the disciples were attended by doubt and uncertainty. Like the disciples, for most of us in one way or another, our lives so often are also attended by doubt and uncertainty. We live each day wanting to have hope. We want to walk as children of light, but the path ahead for us is often unclear. We, like the women at the empty tomb, and like the disciples, have our doubts and our fears.
In last week’s sermon, you recall that John spoke of the stone that in the Gospel was rolled away from the entrance to the empty tomb. He then spoke of the stones in our lives that are rolled away, stones, he said, that imprison, stones that limit our freedom, stones that entomb, blocking out light and life. Some things, he reminded us, are just too big and weigh too much for us to move by ourselves. It is in the presence of these huge stones, that the risen Jesus meets us just as he met the women at the empty tomb, and how he removes our fear, just as he removed their fear. When he meets us, and when he removes those heavy stones, you and I can experience how light and life can dawn upon us and we can have glimpses of hope once again.
In this week’s gospel, we see that even the locked doors could not and did not keep Jesus out. When he came and stood among them they heard his familiar voice and that greeting they had heard so often when he said to them, “Peace be with you.” They could not wait to tell Thomas who was not with them that first night. But then, yet a week later we find them still huddled in that same room. It all still had not sunk in. The gospel does not say that the doors were locked; why, we can only guess, but Jesus appeared again and this time Thomas was there. Jesus, sensing his doubt, reached out to him with compassion and met him where he was in his journey of doubt. What Jesus did empowered Thomas to believe once again. Thomas, with great relief exclaimed, “My Lord and my God!” His faith and we can only imagine, his hope, returned.
It is the power of the risen Lord that removes heavy stones from our path and lights our way forward once again. It is the power of the risen Lord that comes to us even when we are locked behind the doors of doubt and grief and despair.
It is power of the risen Lord who comes to us even at times we least expect, times when most we need to have hope once again.
As I was thinking once again about how Jesus appeared to his disciples, and especially to Thomas behind those locked doors, and how he gave them hope, what came to me was something that has been etched forever in my memory. It is a conversation I had with our oldest son, David, some years ago in which he told me about something that happened to him in the weeks after his brother Jamie had been killed. I asked David if I could share with you this morning the experience he had. He said I could. At the time, David was working as a teacher at the Grafton School in Maryland. He had been working out of another Grafton office here in Chesterfield while spending time down in Richmond. It was during those days in 1997 when he lived virtually every waking hour in despair over the loss of his brother. I think we often do not fully comprehend the devastation that a sibling experiences upon the death of a brother or sister. He told me that on that day after leaving the office in Chesterfield he was beginning his drive home and feeling very low, wondering, even, if he could go on. He was approaching a bridge about to cross the James. There was still afternoon sunlight, yet he was in the deepest and darkest of despair. As he began to drive across the bridge, he suddenly became acutely aware of something he had not felt since his brother died. It was, as he was later able to realize upon reflection, the dawning of a realization. It was the realization that he could either live the rest of his life in despair and bitterness, or, he could go on trying to live again knowing full well that life would forever be changed, but that it would be possible somehow to go on. As that realization began to dawn upon him, did his grief leave? No, of course not. Did his bitterness leave? No, not immediately, but later and in time, it would. But what did happen at that moment on the bridge as he was crossing the James River, was that he began to have a glimpse, if only a glimpse, of hope for the very first time. It was as if that stone blocking his path was beginning to move aside. It was as if living behind a locked door in despair, that door was beginning to open a bit ever so slightly and he could see a ray of light ahead along his path once again. It would be a long journey and continues to be for him, yet something happened that afternoon crossing that bridge over which he probably had little or no control. What happened crossing the bridge over the James was the dawning of hope. To this day he remembers that bridge crossing as one of the turning points in his journey. It was a gift to David. Was that not the power of the risen Lord who came to him as it did to the women at the empty tomb and to the disciples in that room behind locked doors? Was that not the power of the risen Lord who comes to you and to me in our despair and in our doubts? Was that not the power of the risen Lord that lights our way once again and, most of all that gives us a ray of hope we need on order to live again?
In the gospel, we see yet another dimension of the power of the risen Jesus. We note that it is in the company of the other disciples that Jesus meets Thomas in his grief. When Jesus appears behind the closed doors once again Thomas is surrounded by his friends. Surrounded by them he is uplifted and given hope once again. That experience gives testimony to the fact that when we are surrounded by love and support, we can experience hope once again. I remember once reading what William Sloane Coffin, the famous preacher, chaplain at Yale, and then Senior Minister at the famous Riverside Church in New York City once told about what happened to him on a Sunday morning. It was some time after his son Alex had died in a car crash. Even as a preacher, his struggles were no different from the struggles of others. At one point in his despair he found that the ancient words of the Creed confirming the beliefs of Christians throughout the ages had become for him difficult to recite. Somehow they had become so remote after his son’s death. He would find himself standing there before his huge congregation with the words sticking in his throat. For some weeks this is how it was. Then, one Sunday, something happened. As he stood there with the words caught in his throat, suddenly he became aware of several hundred voices in unison saying the ancient words, words such as “For our sake he was crucified under Pontius Pilate; he suffered death and was buried. On the third day he rose again in accordance with the Scriptures; he ascended into heaven…” and then he heard the words, “We look for the resurrection of the dead, and the life of the world to come.” We look for the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come. As he heard those voices around him, began to have the powerful sense that he was being uplifted by those around him. These words he had so long spoken and believed, but that, in his despair had lost their power, once again came alive as he stood there in the presence of others who believed and who also loved and were supporting him. He would once again be able to recite these words himself. That moment for William Sloane Coffin was a gift. Was that not the power of the risen Lord moving the stone in his path to hope, unlocking the door that was keeping him in despair? Was that not the power of the risen Lord bringing yet some light to the path before him?
Each of you has your own stories to tell. Has not the power of the risen Lord at some time moved a stone that was in your path” Has not the power of the risen Lord come and stood in your midst and said to you, “Peace be with you?” The truth of it all is that the power of the risen Lord is a reality. The risen Jesus brings to each of us, and to those we love, and to the world, hope in the midst of all that life brings. The risen Jesus lights the path that lies before us as we heard in the First Letter of John a few moments ago.
There is that powerful service, the Great Vigil of Easter, which in many places is the first service celebrated at the beginning of the Great Fifty Days of Easter. As the Easter fire is lighted and the procession enters the dark church, the cantor sings three times, “The light of Christ.” And the people respond by singing, “Thanks be to God.” Then follow the words contained in what is called the Exsultet, words that ring out in the darkness, “This is the night when Christ broke the bonds of death and hell, and rose victorious from the grave… How holy is this night, when wickedness is put to flight and sin is washed away. It restores innocence to the fallen and joy to those who mourn…” How Holy is this night. Then Easter breaks and the Easter hymns resound in great joy as the First Eucharist of Easter is then celebrated.
It is in that spirit that we celebrate the power of the risen Lord during these Great Fifty Days of Easter. It is the light of the risen Christ that illuminates our path and gives us hope once again, for as in the words of the hymn we sang a few moments ago,
In him there is no darkness at all.
The night and the day are both alike.
The Lamb is the light of the city of God.
Shine in my heart, Lord Jesus.
It is appropriate that in this Easter season today that we celebrate the sacrament of Baptism of James Russell Parker, V and Noah Charles Perry Greenbaum, Jr., for through the Paschal mystery we and they, their sisters and their families, and all of us, are buried with Christ by Baptism into his death, and raised with him to the newness of life. May they be filled with your holy and life-giving Spirit.
May this Easter season for you be a time of blessing. Let us all find hope in that love which never dies, and may we find peace in the grace that is around us, and always will be. Amen.
Rolling Stones (Away)
A Sermon for Easter Day
Year B – 8 April 2012
John Edward Miller, Rector
When the Sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices, so that they might go and anoint Jesus. And very early on the first day of the week, when the sun had risen, they went to the tomb. They had been saying to one another, “Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance to the tomb?” When they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had already been rolled back. As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man, dressed in a white robe, sitting on the right side; and they were alarmed. But he said to them, “Do not be alarmed; you are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised; he is not here. Look, there is the place they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him, just as he told you.” So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.
– Mark 16:1-8
The Collect
Almighty God, who through your only-begotten Son Jesus Christ overcame death and opened to us the gate of everlasting life: Grant that we, who celebrate with joy the day of the Lord’s resurrection, may be raised from the death of sin by your life-giving Spirit; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.
“Who will roll away the stone for us?” That’s what the women were wondering as they sadly retraced their steps back to the tomb of their beloved Jesus. Just three days earlier they had watched as their Lord was hastily laid to rest there before the Sabbath began. Joseph of Arimethea had tried to give Jesus a decent burial after he had been tortured and humiliated by Roman crucifixion. Joseph had borrowed the cave-like burial chamber hewn out of the soft stone near Jerusalem. There he saw to it that Jesus’ lifeless body was wrapped in linen and sealed inside the tomb until after the Sabbath. The women returning to that place of death were carrying spices to anoint the body, as was the custom. However, they were unsure of how they could carry out their task. Joseph had made sure that the tomb was securely locked. The stone stood in their way.
So they fretted, “Who will roll the stone away for us?” Their quandary was about a practical problem, but their query still resounds twenty-one centuries later. It strikes us with considerable force at a deep and personal level. Although we weren’t there when they crucified and buried our Lord, we recognize this question. We know that it gives voice to a universal longing to overcome the power of death.
All of us have stones that need to be rolled away – stones that imprison, stones that limit our freedom, stones that entomb, blocking out light and life. Some things are just too big, and weigh too much, to move by ourselves. To us they are megaliths that won’t budge, no matter how hard we bear down and push with all our might. Defeated, we walk around with “Help Needed” signs posted over our heart.
The stones vary in size, and weight, and composition, but their common characteristic is heaviness. Guilt, doubt, grief, anger, fear, and indecision all fit the description. These and other stones are crushingly heavy. They push the air right out of us in great sighs, and they cripple our attempts to live a whole life. Stones like these must be rolled away, or else we will remain entombed. But who will do that for us?
When I was a young priest, I received a call from a lady who identified herself as a church member, but I had no clue who she was. I would learn later why she was a mystery. At that moment, though, I had a mission to attend to. Her husband had just died, she said, and she needed me to come by. So away I went, arriving at the lady’s doorstep as requested. She was quite elderly, and very shy. But I could tell that she was grateful to see me, even though it was for the first time. “Please come in, Dr. Miller,” she said. “My husband is in his room.”
I followed her through the house and came to a door, which creaked open at her push. And there lay her husband. I drew near, and opened my prayer book and began to pray. Finishing the ritual, I offered a blessing, tracing the sign of the cross on his forehead. Then the lady and I withdrew into her living room, where she told me her story.
She said that her husband had been a wonderful, bright man with a promising future. And yet, as the pressure of his profession mounted, he simply did not have the resilience necessary to bend and to adapt to stress. One day, she said, he just broke emotionally, and had retreated to his home. Their bedroom soon became his private preserve, from which he would never emerge for the several decades until his death. He received his meals, his fresh clothes, and his necessary items though a doorway that otherwise remained shut – always. The door was the stone sealing him within a tomb of isolation. He didn’t have the strength to remove it, and neither did his wife.
The reason why I did not know her is that she could seldom leave the house, for fear that he would slip further into his dark world. Getting groceries or prescriptions from the pharmacy was a tolerable thing, but church was out of the question. Thus two souls had been entrapped, sequestered away from life’s possibilities of refreshment and renewal. I could only hope and pray that there would be no door now that would separate either the deceased or his exhausted wife from new being. But, of course, that was why I was there. I had been called to represent Christ’s community, and to serve as a channel of life, and love. By the grace of God, a new creation was made possible. A heavy stone was removed; now her task was to walk out of that tomb, with God’s help and ours.
What does it take, whom does it take, to get that kind of stone rolling? Clearly someone stronger than I, and yet in Christ I know that I was included in the team of transformation that we call the Church.
Rolling stones away takes power. That’s the truth; and the good news of Easter is that God has the power to remove them – a power that’s stronger than death. It’s called “love” – as in, “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son . . .” God freely and completely loves, enduring crucifixion and overcoming death with us and for us. As one three-year old preschool child told me last week, “Jesus died on the cross to give us a second chance.” Amen to that! Our shared ministry of love is about offering the power to live again to those who suffer under the weight of deadly stones.
And on this day, we behold love’s power in action. The text tells us that the women came back. That’s significant. They took a risk to do so. The rest of the disciples were cowering behind closed doors, fearing arrest for being Jesus’ accomplices. The crucifixion was horrible to witness; Jesus’ agony was etched into their consciousness. The remaining disciples had run for cover. It was up to braver souls, namely the women, to chance getting nabbed while checking on their late master.
The trio of Mary Magdalen, James’ mother Mary, and Salome approached the tomb, knowing that they weren’t strong enough to give that stone a shove away from the door. And yet, in that they made the effort, they became essential parts of the resurrection story on that first Easter.
Love infused their common purpose. It helped them overcome fear of their own death and propelled them forward. The women worried about how they might accomplish their mission, but they were not deterred. When they arrived at the tomb, they were met by God’s power to roll the stone away. Resurrection happens like that. Courage and compassion ready us to give, and to receive, newness of life. God’s message at every opened tomb is, “Don’t be afraid. . . He is risen.” The power of love is so strong that it amazes even the faithful.
There’s an independent film playing these days that delivers just such an Easter message. At least, it appears to me that it does. The film is “Jeff, Who Lives at Home.”[1] And it’s about the renewal of life experienced by people brought together by an awful accident, which was perhaps an occasion of God’s providence.
Jeff is a young man who has never summoned the courage to leave home. Instead he lives in the basement of his mother’s home. His days and nights are filled with eating, drinking, pot-smoking, and watching TV. It’s pretty clear that he’s depressed, and it’s also obvious that his mother is at her wit’s end. The reason is that she’s frustrated by his lack of initiative, and he’s languishing in fear after his father’s untimely death. Something’s got to give. And the action begins after Jeff’s mother orders him to get off the couch and board a bus to buy some wood glue to fix a shutter in the kitchen of her house. It’s her birthday, she reminds her son, and this is the only present she wants from him. Jeff reluctantly goes forth, but he’s weighed down by a strong sense that he’s receiving signs of an impending event of huge importance.
Along the way, he gets mugged, and beaten, and loses the means to get home. His bedraggled path then intersects with that of his older brother Pat, who views Jeff as a slacker who has no life. Ironically, Jeff thinks the same about Pat, but for a different reason. He can’t understand why Pat is so clueless about everything, and so self-centered and materialistic that he is losing his marriage.
Well, after running from pillar to post all over town chasing after “signs” of universal meaning, the two brothers find themselves standing near a cemetery. It dawns on them that this is their father’s burial place, and they cease their bickering for a moment to walk over to the grave. In a moment of reverie, the older brother lets down his guard and shares a private thought with Jeff. He says that he’s been having a dream about their father – one in which his Dad smiles and asks, “Pat, what’s the most important day in human history?” Nodding in recognition, gentle giant Jeff answers, saying: “It’s today. The most important day in human history is today. I had the dream too.” They stare at one another in amazement.
Now Jeff, who lives at home, feels as though he is on the verge of something momentous. But his older brother is dubious. He believes that Jeff has been hallucinating again, or is simply falling into some sort of rabbit hole of madness.
And yet they press on, until Jeff convinces Pat to recommit to his estranged wife, and they try to intercept her by car. When they get stalled in a massive traffic jam on a bridge, Jeff suddenly feels impelled to rush to the cause of the snarl. And there he finds that a crash has pushed an auto off the bridge and into the Gulf of Mexico. Without hesitating big old Jeff jumps into the water and dives to the sinking car. Soon he pops to the surface carrying two little girls. But they cry that their Daddy is still down there, and Jeff submerges again into the green salt water. After a few moments a man bobs up. It is the girls’ father, but there is no sign of Jeff.
When Pat realizes where his brother has gone, he too jumps under the water. Finally, he struggles to the surface carrying the lifeless body of his brother. The Coast Guard rescue team pounds Jeff’s chest and tries to resuscitate the drowned man. Meanwhile Pat is screaming and crying for Jeff to live. Death has him firmly in its grim grasp. The sweet dreamer, who has been so out of step with the world, has saved a family by his heroics, but he did so at the loss of his own existence. It is as dark as Good Friday.
All of a sudden, the efforts of the EMTs and the passionate pleas of a distraught brother lift the stone of death from Jeff’s chest. His body convulses, vomiting the salt water and allowing him to cough and breathe. It is the moment – the most important day in human history for the two brothers, who realize that their differences are minor compared to the gift of life, and for their widowed mother, who that very day has gone from despair to joy, and is able to celebrate her birthday with renewed hope. It is the moment of new life for a marriage that was on the verge on death. And it is the moment when a father and his two little girls have been snatched from the depths to enjoy a loving, living embrace. To this Christian, it is “the day that the Lord has made,” a day of transformation, wherein we should rejoice and be glad.
Easter is the resurrection story. Love has defeated death, and Christ is risen. Don’t be amazed; it’s why we are here. We are his risen body. And we are charged to share the power of love, and work with our Lord to keep rolling stones away from tombs. Easter is the eternal now, as well as then; for as Paul Tillich preached, it matters little whether it happened long ago in Jerusalem unless resurrection is happening today. But thanks be to God, it is. So let’s get on with it.
Alleluia! Christ is risen. The Lord is risen indeed! How about you?[2]
[1] “Jeff, Who Lives at Home” (2011), an independent film directed by Jay & Mark Duplass, with Jason Segal, Ed Helms, Judy Greer, and Susan Sarandon, www.imdb.com/title/ tt 1588334/ . The film’s website is www.jasonwholivesathome,com.
[2] This response was originally coined by the Rev. Christopher M. Brookfield in an Easter exchange with our late Rector Emeritus, the Rev. W. Holt Souder. Since that time, it became a customary greeting among the clergy of our parish.
The Gift of God’s Commandments
A Sermon for the Third Sunday in Lent
Year B – March 11, 2012
David Hathaway Knight, Priest Associate
Let us pray,
Lord Jesus, Sun of Righteousness, shine in our hearts we pray;
dispel the gloom that shades our minds and be to us as day.
Give guidance to our wandering ways, forgive us, Lord, our sin;
restore us by your loving care to peace and joy within.
Hymn 144, stanzas 1 and 2
The Psalmist writes,
The law of the Lord is perfect
and revives the soul:
the testimony of the Lord is sure
and gives wisdom to the innocent.
The statutes of the Lord are just
and rejoice the heart;
the Commandment of the Lord is clear
and gives light to the eyes.
Psalm 19:7, 8
Recently, I was enjoying a conversation with a good friend whose faith journey is an inspiration to me. We were talking about the change in the pace of this season of Lent. I mentioned that I was preaching on the Ten Commandments soon as the Exodus passage containing them was the first reading for the day. Now this friend is someone whose honesty is refreshing. She said, “I have trouble with the Ten Commandments.” It wasn’t that she was saying that they weren’t important, or that we shouldn’t take them seriously, but rather that so many of them seem to emphasize the negative as they are phrased “You shall not…” Even those phrased in the positive are strongly imperative. If, for example, whenever we told our children not to do something, what often, was the first thought that came to their minds? Of course they thought of what it might be like to do it! Some of us never grow up. There is a sign taped on the back of an oven on the counter of the Café at the Jewish Community Center where I go for my exercise program early each morning. The sign reads, “DO NOT TOUCH. OVEN IS VERY HOT.” I pass by that sign every day, but last Tuesday, I simply could not resist. I looked around to see if anyone was watching. I went up to the counter thinking no one was looking. I reached out to touch it to see if it was hot. Suddenly, I was surprised by the voice of a young lady from behind the counter. She said, “It’s OK, Mr. Knight, you can touch it. It’s not turned on this morning.” Did I ever feel stupid. She surely had my number!
I suspect my friend speaks for many of us, however, even as we recognize the importance of God’s Commandments to us. Yes, the Ten Commandments are all phrased as strong imperatives. They can seem harsh, but my friend then led us to a source that, for both of us, puts a refreshing perspective on our understanding of why God gave these Commandments to us. Eugene Peterson in his book, The Message: The Bible in Contemporary Language, puts the Commandments in this context when he writes, “Moses spoke to the people: ‘Do not be afraid. God has come to … instill a deep and reverent awe within you so that you won’t sin.’”
Do not be afraid, God has come to instill a deep and reverent awe within you and me so that we will not sin.
I immediately thought to myself, “That’ll preach!” Today’s reading from the Book of Exodus describes the vision of how the relationship between God and the people of to be ordered. It is a vision that follows what God had done for the people of Israel Whom he loved, and for whom God continued to care deeply. It is a vision that follows after God had led the people through the Red safety. Through all, God sustained them with manna in the wilderness. God’s passionate love for the people of Israel Would never end no matter what. When God spoke these words of the Commandments, God gave them a gift. These commandments would show the people of Israel then, and they would come to show us now, how to live in relationship with God and in relationship with one another. John Calvin, not always the most cheerful of fellows, once said that the Commandments “expose our sin, cutting through our self deception that we are really ‘good’ people and revealing some of the many ways in which our lives are not what they are supposed to be.” They are a gift to us because they provide a framework for us in which to live our lives. Without this framework, all becomes chaotic. We need boundaries. As Scripture says, they are a “lamp unto our feet.” The Commandments do not show us what we must do or how we must behave in order to receive God’s grace. Rather, the Commandments light our path. They show us how we should live because we are people who have already been given God’s grace. One of the treasures in our Prayer Book is what is called An Exhortation. It begins on page 316. It is sometimes done as part of the services especially during Lent. In this Exhortation, we hear these words, “Having in mind therefore, Christ’s great love for us, and in obedience to his command, his Church renders to Almighty God our heavenly Father never-ending thanks for the creation of the world, for his continual providence over us, for his love for all mankind, and for the redemption of the world by our savior Christ, who took upon himself our flesh, and humbled himself even to death on the cross, that he might make us the Children of God by the power of the Holy Spirit, and exalt us to everlasting life.”
Having in mind, therefore, his great love for us, and in obedience to his command, his Church renders to Almighty God, our heavenly Father, never ending thanks. . .
As God therefore gave to the people Israel this gift to shape their love of God and of one another, so you and I too receive this gift. Focusing on the Commandments during this Lent draws us once again to see them as a gift that molds our witness to the gift of God’s grace, a gift so freely given to us. Focusing on them helps us to shape how we respond to God, and what we say and do about others. We begin by giving thanks for these Commandments, these boundaries within which we then live our lives.
Each Commandment addresses a particular realm of human behavior and could be discussed individually but time here would not allow, but take the ninth one, for example: “You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor.” God addresses this one not only to trivial lying but also to higher levels of dishonesty that can, in the course of things, bring serious harm to one’s self and to others. There’s a true story that was once told about a boy I actually knew when I was a kid. (All of the stories I tell you are true. Some of them actually happened.) When this all happened, this 8-year-old-boy was in Miss O’Brien’s fourth grade class. It was a crisp,New England Autumn day in the new school year. This young boy was riding on the school bus when, for some inexplicable reason, he decided to commit a little prank on the bus. It was harmless one, you understand, nobody got hurt—it was only mischievous—yet it was a prank that would merit an interview in the principal’s office upon arrival at school. Now, nothing could instill more terror into a child in that school in those days in the mid ‘50’s than a summons to the office of Clarence Newton Blair, the principal of the Stockbridge Plain School. Nothing, but as the story goes, the boy was summoned to the principal’s office shortly after morning opening exercises. Come to think of it, this little kid, as I remember him, could be bad, innocent looking, you understand, but naughty at times. The interview took place with Mr. Blair. It would come to pass that night that the boy, as usual, would sit at dinner with his parents and his sister. I recall, it was said that this family had a custom. It was that the sins of the children were not discussed at the dinner table. Dinner was for family time together over a meal carefully prepared by their mother. It was only after dinner that discussions of the sins of the children took place when necessary. Dinner was quiet that night after which the boy’s father called him into the other room for that necessary discussion. He inquired about his son’s day at school. He inquired about the morning ride on the school bus. The boy knew immediately what was coming down the pike. His little mind began to work. He proceeded to offer his own creative account of the day. Sitting there before his father, he put his own positive spin to the events on the school bus that morning, but you see, the principal had called home earlier that day. This, mind you, was in the days during which, when the principal called home, the parents and the principal found themselves on the same page. Parents acted in concert with the school and presented a united front to the child. His father, however, first listened that night to his son’s carefully spun yarn as the boy weaved his own version of the truth until he ran out of yarn. Then the father said to his son, “Is that all, young man? Is that all?” There was silence. It was then that my father began to speak. I will never forget what he said to me that night, that crisp New England Night, in the autumn of 1954. He said, “David, it is very important that we tell the truth even in the small things in life, for if we don’t, we will end up not being honest about bigger matters. Telling the truth in the little things,” he said, “will shape how we live the rest of our lives.” His words were prophetic and they reach into the lives of all of us. It was, as I recall, not many years later, for example, that, in the company in which my father worked, some of the top executives got into big trouble over how they handled the truth in high places. Their manipulation of the truth made the national headlines. They had gotten involved in price fixing. Heads in high places would roll. My father’s words to his son were true. Thou shalt not bear false witness. It is important to tell the truth beginning with the little things in life.
Personal stories throughout the ages will give testimony to the fact that each of the Ten Commandments speaks to particular occasions and events in the lives of God’s people, for they all relate to virtually every aspect of our lives. Today’s reading from Exodus reminds us that these Commandments, these boundaries, have been around for a very long time, and have been a benefit to generations of God’s people. You and I stand among those counted as God’s precious ones, those for whom Jesus was willing to suffer and die on the Cross, those who have been set apart for generations by God’s holy speech and action, called to be about the business of mending God’s holy, yet broken world. It was Jesus himself who would add a further dimension to these Commandments when he said, “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart and with all thy soul and with all thy mind. This is the first and great commandment. And the second is like unto it: Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself. On these two commandments hang all the Law and the Prophets.” The Commandments are a gift to us, a framework upon which to live our lives in thanksgiving to God. Eugene Peterson’s words to us about the Commandments give life and hope to us as we carry out our work of reconciliation in this world in which we live, and so,
Do not be afraid, God has come to instill a deep and reverent awe within you and me so that we won’t sin.
Therefore, today, and for this coming week, and for all time,
Lord, grant that we in penitence may offer you our praise,
and through your saving sacrifice receive your gift of grace. Amen.
Hymn 144, stanza 3