Inaugurating Hope
1 Samuel 3:1-20
January 18, 2009
I’m gonna sit at the welcome table. Hallelujah! I’m gonna sit at the welcome table one of these days. Hallelujah. I’m gonna sit at the welcome table; I’m gonna sit at the welcome table one of these days. One of these days.
In just a few hours, down on the Mall, Bishop Gene Robinson is going to stand close to the spot where, 45 years ago, Martin Luther King, Jr. gave voice to a dream that ended in a song of hope: Free at last, free at last.
Every January I get out my King tapes and listen to one or two of his speeches. Last week, I listened again to the “Dream” speech and marveled at its prophetic beauty and its call to sing out in hope. But let’s be honest, not even Martin Luther King had the audacity to dream of a day when a partnered gay bishop would open the celebration of the inauguration of an African-American president.
That it should happen well within the lifetimes of many who heard him speak in August, 1963, would, I believe, have shocked King right beyond singing.
So let’s take a moment and give thanks that we have come this far on the way. For though we have not reached that day when every valley shall be exalted and every mountain brought low, when the crooked places have been made straight and the glory of the Lord seen by all flesh together, as King recalled from Isaiah’s words, we have come a long, long way in the past half century.
Now that we are on the eve of inaugurating a new president, well past elections and risks to tax-exempt status, I can confess what some of you just might have suspected along the line: I was an Obama supporter.
As we’ve gotten closer to this historic weekend, I’ve tried to think back to when I first decided to back the man. While I’d like to say I began supporting him when he first entered the race, I think I really fell for him the night of the Iowa caucuses when he and his family took the stage and simply looked so wonderfully presidential.
Why look back at this now, and confess it in such fawning language?
Listen for a word from God in a second reading from 1 Samuel. This one comes when Samuel has grown to be a man, and is charged by God to anoint a future king.
8Then Jesse called Abinadab, and made him pass before Samuel. He said, ‘Neither has the Lord chosen this one.’ 9Then Jesse made Shammah pass by. And he said, ‘Neither has the Lord chosen this one.’ 10Jesse made seven of his sons pass before Samuel, and Samuel said to Jesse, ‘The Lord has not chosen any of these.’ 11Samuel said to Jesse, ‘Are all your sons here?’ And he said, ‘There remains yet the youngest, but he is keeping the sheep.’ And Samuel said to Jesse, ‘Send and bring him; for we will not sit down until he comes here.’ 12He sent and brought him in. Now he was ruddy, and had beautiful eyes, and was handsome. The Lord said, ‘Rise and anoint him; for this is the one.’ Then Samuel took the horn of oil, and anointed him in the presence of his brothers; and the spirit of the Lord came mightily upon David from that day forward.
The word of the Lord. The word of a sovereign God who has just fallen head-over-heels in love with David, smitten by the ruddy-cheeked, handsome lad with the beautiful eyes.
I know just how God felt: falling for an emerging young leader who looks the part. I think that a whole lot of Americans – the sovereign public – has shared that experience over the past year.
This is, by no means, a criticism or a political comment or a lament or a love song – merely an observation. But it is an observation with implications for the church, and, in particular, for the progressive church.
For while we all hope that the new president will be wise and effective, and that future generations might look back and say that in the early days of the 21st century the country wisely chose a young leader upon whom the spirit of the Lord, the spirit of wisdom and compassion, looked mightily from that day forward – while Americans of all political persuasions hope that might come to pass, we also know that the plans of princes and of mortals are as fleeting as breath, as Psalm 146 reminds us.
In other words, we know that there is a great distance between our hopes and the present reality, and that distance cannot be bridged by any one leader, no matter how gifted, ruddy-cheeked or handsome he or she may be.
Indeed, consider the two passages we’ve read together. In the first story, Samuel is called to level a word against his mentor, Eli, whose family has sacrificed its moral authority and failed to exercise power for the good of the people. Samuel’s difficulty in discerning God’s call may well have lain precisely in his understanding of Eli’s failure and the daunting task that awaited one who would name it as such.
In the second story, Samuel is called to anoint the future king. David’s inauguration, as it were, is full of hope. But the arc of the Eli, Samuel, David story does not end with inauguration. Instead, the narrative continues into the life of another prophet, Nathan, to whom it falls to hold King David accountable for his behavior when the king sleeps with Bathsheba and has her husband sent off to die in battle.
Just as God calls forth political leaders, God also calls forth prophets to hold those leaders accountable when they sacrifice the essential values that qualify them to lead in the first place. Samuel was called to tell Eli that he and his household had strayed from the paths of righteousness. Nathan was called to tell David that he had abused his power and his office.
It is way too soon to suggest anything about the incoming administration other than this: there will come a time when it makes compromises and mistakes.
The progressive church, especially during the administration of a progressive president, is both well-suited and particularly called to that age-old prophetic role of holding the leader accountable to the better angels of his nature, and to the core values that have made him such an attractive leader to begin with.
But the prophetic role is not merely that of critic. We are not the ones charged simply with complaining about the plumbing, but rather the ones charged with calling for justice to roll down like a mighty water. We are not called to complain about the flatness of the bread, but rather to be its leaven. We are not called to note the darkness and be bitter, but rather to be a light in the darkness.
In other words, we are called to give voice to a vision of hope, and to call power to bear upon that vision.
We are not called to complain about the leader’s lack of vision; we are called to provide the vision for where there is no vision the people perish.
It does not take great vision these days to see that we face huge challenges – challenges that strike at the core of the vision of the beloved community that Dr. King cast so many years ago. When we go down to AFAC tomorrow to bag groceries it is because we know that there are hungry people here in Arlington whose numbers increase daily in the present economic circumstance. When we go to the Olive Branch Interfaith Peace Partners witness tomorrow evening, it is because we recognize that God’s shalom is being broken by our nation’s wars. When we stand up for marriage equality on Valentine’s Day, it is because we know that we are still far from that day when all God’s children truly have a place at the welcome table of our nation.
Hunger. Inequality. Warfare. They tear at the fabric of our society and stand as an affront to our God. But God will not be mocked.
When Martin Luther King told the nation about his dream, he spoke of the “fierce urgency of now.” President-elect Obama often used that phrase during his campaign. Dr. King spoke of it in explaining why a people long denied their freedom and equality could not wait any longer for the nation to rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed, “that all men are created equal.” He spoke of speeding up that day when freedom would ring out across the land, and concluded for posterity that “when we allow freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual:
Free at last! Free at last!
Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!”
Now, with that same fierce urgency, we are called to give voice to a similar demand that the circle be widened such that, were King to be speaking this afternoon at the Lincoln Memorial, he would urge us to speed up that day when black men and women and white men and women and men and women of every race and color, join with Jews and Gentiles, Protestant and Catholics, Muslims and Sikhs, Hindus and humanists, Palestinians and Israelis, Arabs and Americans, straights and gays, rich and poor, can join hands and unite in the common bonds of our humanity, and sing together a new song of hope.
That is the continuing and animating vision of the progressive church. The prophet Joel promised that there would come a day when God
… will pour out my spirit on all flesh;
your sons and your daughters shall prophesy,
your old men shall dream dreams,
and your young men shall see visions.
Even on the male and female slaves,
in those days, I will pour out my spirit (Joel 2:28-29).
That day is today.
That moment is now, with its fierce urgency of economic turmoil and global unrest. Followers of Jesus are called in every time to do justice, love kindness and walk humbly with God.
This remains our calling. To live into it requires us to step out in faith, and to engage the powers that be. The stories from Samuel that we’ve read together this morning serve as reminders of the difficulties of that relationship and the traps and stumbling blocks inherent in the dance between power and the prophetic call to justice.
But we have a great gift to offer to the present moment that responds directly to that difficulty: the gift of love. For what else is our ultimate calling as follower of Jesus than to offer to the world our love? Dr. King understood well the difficult weave of power, justice and love. As he said toward the end of his life, “What is needed is a realization that power without love is reckless and abusive, and love without power is sentimental and anemic. Power at its best is love implementing the demands of justice, and justice at its best is power correcting everything that stands against love.”
Followers of Jesus in every moment are called to exercise just such power as we work to do justice, to make peace, to welcome the stranger and care for the least of these our sisters and brothers, to bind up the broken, to comfort the brokenhearted and to love one another always.
This remains our calling, and our circumstance demands renewed vigor and focus such that we recognize in this moment the kairos time of God’s hope, that we give that hope voice and substance, and that, hearts filled with God’s hope, we lift every voice and sing:
Lift every voice and sing,
'Til earth and heaven ring,
Ring with the harmonies of Liberty;
Let our rejoicing rise
High as the listening skies,
Let it resound loud as the rolling sea.
Sing a song full of the faith that the dark past has taught us,
Sing a song full of the hope that the present has brought us;
Facing the rising sun of our new day begun,
Let us march on 'til victory is won.
May it be so, for all of us. Amen.
January 18, 2009
I’m gonna sit at the welcome table. Hallelujah! I’m gonna sit at the welcome table one of these days. Hallelujah. I’m gonna sit at the welcome table; I’m gonna sit at the welcome table one of these days. One of these days.
In just a few hours, down on the Mall, Bishop Gene Robinson is going to stand close to the spot where, 45 years ago, Martin Luther King, Jr. gave voice to a dream that ended in a song of hope: Free at last, free at last.
Every January I get out my King tapes and listen to one or two of his speeches. Last week, I listened again to the “Dream” speech and marveled at its prophetic beauty and its call to sing out in hope. But let’s be honest, not even Martin Luther King had the audacity to dream of a day when a partnered gay bishop would open the celebration of the inauguration of an African-American president.
That it should happen well within the lifetimes of many who heard him speak in August, 1963, would, I believe, have shocked King right beyond singing.
So let’s take a moment and give thanks that we have come this far on the way. For though we have not reached that day when every valley shall be exalted and every mountain brought low, when the crooked places have been made straight and the glory of the Lord seen by all flesh together, as King recalled from Isaiah’s words, we have come a long, long way in the past half century.
Now that we are on the eve of inaugurating a new president, well past elections and risks to tax-exempt status, I can confess what some of you just might have suspected along the line: I was an Obama supporter.
As we’ve gotten closer to this historic weekend, I’ve tried to think back to when I first decided to back the man. While I’d like to say I began supporting him when he first entered the race, I think I really fell for him the night of the Iowa caucuses when he and his family took the stage and simply looked so wonderfully presidential.
Why look back at this now, and confess it in such fawning language?
Listen for a word from God in a second reading from 1 Samuel. This one comes when Samuel has grown to be a man, and is charged by God to anoint a future king.
8Then Jesse called Abinadab, and made him pass before Samuel. He said, ‘Neither has the Lord chosen this one.’ 9Then Jesse made Shammah pass by. And he said, ‘Neither has the Lord chosen this one.’ 10Jesse made seven of his sons pass before Samuel, and Samuel said to Jesse, ‘The Lord has not chosen any of these.’ 11Samuel said to Jesse, ‘Are all your sons here?’ And he said, ‘There remains yet the youngest, but he is keeping the sheep.’ And Samuel said to Jesse, ‘Send and bring him; for we will not sit down until he comes here.’ 12He sent and brought him in. Now he was ruddy, and had beautiful eyes, and was handsome. The Lord said, ‘Rise and anoint him; for this is the one.’ Then Samuel took the horn of oil, and anointed him in the presence of his brothers; and the spirit of the Lord came mightily upon David from that day forward.
The word of the Lord. The word of a sovereign God who has just fallen head-over-heels in love with David, smitten by the ruddy-cheeked, handsome lad with the beautiful eyes.
I know just how God felt: falling for an emerging young leader who looks the part. I think that a whole lot of Americans – the sovereign public – has shared that experience over the past year.
This is, by no means, a criticism or a political comment or a lament or a love song – merely an observation. But it is an observation with implications for the church, and, in particular, for the progressive church.
For while we all hope that the new president will be wise and effective, and that future generations might look back and say that in the early days of the 21st century the country wisely chose a young leader upon whom the spirit of the Lord, the spirit of wisdom and compassion, looked mightily from that day forward – while Americans of all political persuasions hope that might come to pass, we also know that the plans of princes and of mortals are as fleeting as breath, as Psalm 146 reminds us.
In other words, we know that there is a great distance between our hopes and the present reality, and that distance cannot be bridged by any one leader, no matter how gifted, ruddy-cheeked or handsome he or she may be.
Indeed, consider the two passages we’ve read together. In the first story, Samuel is called to level a word against his mentor, Eli, whose family has sacrificed its moral authority and failed to exercise power for the good of the people. Samuel’s difficulty in discerning God’s call may well have lain precisely in his understanding of Eli’s failure and the daunting task that awaited one who would name it as such.
In the second story, Samuel is called to anoint the future king. David’s inauguration, as it were, is full of hope. But the arc of the Eli, Samuel, David story does not end with inauguration. Instead, the narrative continues into the life of another prophet, Nathan, to whom it falls to hold King David accountable for his behavior when the king sleeps with Bathsheba and has her husband sent off to die in battle.
Just as God calls forth political leaders, God also calls forth prophets to hold those leaders accountable when they sacrifice the essential values that qualify them to lead in the first place. Samuel was called to tell Eli that he and his household had strayed from the paths of righteousness. Nathan was called to tell David that he had abused his power and his office.
It is way too soon to suggest anything about the incoming administration other than this: there will come a time when it makes compromises and mistakes.
The progressive church, especially during the administration of a progressive president, is both well-suited and particularly called to that age-old prophetic role of holding the leader accountable to the better angels of his nature, and to the core values that have made him such an attractive leader to begin with.
But the prophetic role is not merely that of critic. We are not the ones charged simply with complaining about the plumbing, but rather the ones charged with calling for justice to roll down like a mighty water. We are not called to complain about the flatness of the bread, but rather to be its leaven. We are not called to note the darkness and be bitter, but rather to be a light in the darkness.
In other words, we are called to give voice to a vision of hope, and to call power to bear upon that vision.
We are not called to complain about the leader’s lack of vision; we are called to provide the vision for where there is no vision the people perish.
It does not take great vision these days to see that we face huge challenges – challenges that strike at the core of the vision of the beloved community that Dr. King cast so many years ago. When we go down to AFAC tomorrow to bag groceries it is because we know that there are hungry people here in Arlington whose numbers increase daily in the present economic circumstance. When we go to the Olive Branch Interfaith Peace Partners witness tomorrow evening, it is because we recognize that God’s shalom is being broken by our nation’s wars. When we stand up for marriage equality on Valentine’s Day, it is because we know that we are still far from that day when all God’s children truly have a place at the welcome table of our nation.
Hunger. Inequality. Warfare. They tear at the fabric of our society and stand as an affront to our God. But God will not be mocked.
When Martin Luther King told the nation about his dream, he spoke of the “fierce urgency of now.” President-elect Obama often used that phrase during his campaign. Dr. King spoke of it in explaining why a people long denied their freedom and equality could not wait any longer for the nation to rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed, “that all men are created equal.” He spoke of speeding up that day when freedom would ring out across the land, and concluded for posterity that “when we allow freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual:
Free at last! Free at last!
Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!”
Now, with that same fierce urgency, we are called to give voice to a similar demand that the circle be widened such that, were King to be speaking this afternoon at the Lincoln Memorial, he would urge us to speed up that day when black men and women and white men and women and men and women of every race and color, join with Jews and Gentiles, Protestant and Catholics, Muslims and Sikhs, Hindus and humanists, Palestinians and Israelis, Arabs and Americans, straights and gays, rich and poor, can join hands and unite in the common bonds of our humanity, and sing together a new song of hope.
That is the continuing and animating vision of the progressive church. The prophet Joel promised that there would come a day when God
… will pour out my spirit on all flesh;
your sons and your daughters shall prophesy,
your old men shall dream dreams,
and your young men shall see visions.
Even on the male and female slaves,
in those days, I will pour out my spirit (Joel 2:28-29).
That day is today.
That moment is now, with its fierce urgency of economic turmoil and global unrest. Followers of Jesus are called in every time to do justice, love kindness and walk humbly with God.
This remains our calling. To live into it requires us to step out in faith, and to engage the powers that be. The stories from Samuel that we’ve read together this morning serve as reminders of the difficulties of that relationship and the traps and stumbling blocks inherent in the dance between power and the prophetic call to justice.
But we have a great gift to offer to the present moment that responds directly to that difficulty: the gift of love. For what else is our ultimate calling as follower of Jesus than to offer to the world our love? Dr. King understood well the difficult weave of power, justice and love. As he said toward the end of his life, “What is needed is a realization that power without love is reckless and abusive, and love without power is sentimental and anemic. Power at its best is love implementing the demands of justice, and justice at its best is power correcting everything that stands against love.”
Followers of Jesus in every moment are called to exercise just such power as we work to do justice, to make peace, to welcome the stranger and care for the least of these our sisters and brothers, to bind up the broken, to comfort the brokenhearted and to love one another always.
This remains our calling, and our circumstance demands renewed vigor and focus such that we recognize in this moment the kairos time of God’s hope, that we give that hope voice and substance, and that, hearts filled with God’s hope, we lift every voice and sing:
Lift every voice and sing,
'Til earth and heaven ring,
Ring with the harmonies of Liberty;
Let our rejoicing rise
High as the listening skies,
Let it resound loud as the rolling sea.
Sing a song full of the faith that the dark past has taught us,
Sing a song full of the hope that the present has brought us;
Facing the rising sun of our new day begun,
Let us march on 'til victory is won.
May it be so, for all of us. Amen.
posted by David Ensign at
8:11 PM
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