Put Down the Duckie

Mark 2:23-3:6

One sabbath he was going through the grainfields; and as they made their way his disciples began to pluck heads of grain. The Pharisees said to him, “Look, why are they doing what is not lawful on the sabbath?” And he said to them, “Have you never read what David did when he and his companions were hungry and in need of food? He entered the house of God, when Abiathar was high priest, and ate the bread of the Presence,

which it is not lawful for any but the priests to eat, and he gave some to his companions.” Then he said to them, “The sabbath was made for humankind, and not humankind for the sabbath; so the Son of Man is lord even of the sabbath.”

Again he entered the synagogue, and a man was there who had a withered hand. They watched him to see whether he would cure him on the sabbath, so that they might accuse him. And he said to the man who had the withered hand, “Come forward.” Then he said to them, “Is it lawful to do good or to do harm on the sabbath, to save life or to kill?” But they were silent. He looked around at them with anger; he was grieved at their hardness of heart and said to the man, “Stretch out your hand.” He stretched it out, and his hand was restored.

The Pharisees went out and immediately conspired with the Herodians against him, how to destroy him.

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The hardest assignment I ever had in seminary was to put down the duckie. To explain what that means, I’ll need a little help from Ernie and Hoots the Owl.

In seminary I took a class called Soil and Sabbath with Nate Stucky, professor of Old Testament and director of the Farminary, this magical place that combined small scale agriculture and theological education. At the first class, Nate had us pick up a duck and as I remember it, the duck, much like Ernie and his duck, represented the thing we clung to so tightly.

And for a bunch of young people at seminary, we held fervently to our identities as students, achievers, who wrote impressive papers, read lots of books, and would become great pastors and professors because of all that. The assignment that was so hard was this: put down your duck for at least six consecutive hours each week and during these six hours write down, tell someone, or otherwise recall a story of God’s saving action or provision. And while six hours may not sound like much, it was surprisingly difficult. After a few hours I would get antsy knowing there were always more pages to read, a study group to attend, or papers to work on. And it didn’t just affect me.

This practice of sabbath, of putting down the duck, was Katelyn’s favorite assignment. She loved the rhythm it enforced in our newly minted marriage and the fact that for six hours she didn’t have to hear about some boring book or theologian. I didn’t always keep my Sabbath. At midterms and finals, I carried my duck 24/7. And after the class, our sabbath [my sabbath] was never as intentional as it was that first semester.

This assignment, more than any other, showed me how my worth, how good of a pastor I would be, how I saw and understood myself, was wrapped up in what I produced, by how busy I was, and how well I did in my classes.Stopping, even for six hours, disrupted all of that. But that’s exactly what sabbath is supposed to do.

The commandment to observe the sabbath is listed in two places in the Bible. In Exodus, God spoke to Moses and said “Remember the sabbath, keep it holy” and gave this explanation as to why: “for in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea and all that is in them, but rested the 7th day; therefore the Lord blessed the sabbath day and consecrated it”. In short, do as God did. God rested from work so you should rest from work.

Deuteronomy, however, is a bit different. It’s the same commandment, but a different explanation. “Remember that you were a slave in the land of Egypt, and the Lord your God brought you out from there with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm; therefore the Lord your God commanded you to keep the Sabbath day.” Here, the Israelites are invited to rest not to imitate God but to see what God has done for them and see who they truly are.

For 400 years, the Israelites were enslaved, forced to make bricks each and every day with no rest. Their life was consumed by their work, their worth was only found in how much they produced. Then after leaving Egypt, God says one day you won’t work or make anything. It was a radical reorientation reminding Israel that they are no longer slaves, their worth did not come from how many bricks they made, and their identity did not come from their work.

God had made them free and would provide for them, even when they didn’t work because they were God’s people, chosen and loved. Rest made them see this. And look how inclusive, how far reaching the sabbath invitation was: animals, servants, immigrants among them, all were extended the same rest, because no one and no thing should be forced to work their life away. Rest is a gift for all of creation.

Maybe like the Israelites, your identity is wrapped up in work, feeling like your worth comes from what you produce, how much money you make, or the title you carry. Maybe you're wrapped up in being the perfect parent or spouse, or weighing the right number on a scale. Who are you when the children move out, or you get divorced, or you retire, or your body can no longer do what it once could? What’s the duckie you can’t put down? Sabbath is a rhythm to help you see and grasp the identity you have as a beloved child of God made in the image of God.

This one day of rest shows us our value as a person is not found in what we do or how busy we are but in whose we are. It is a form of grace; and like all grace, it disrupts our lives and causes us to change how we see ourselves. And not only are we changed by sabbath but so too are our days, our families, even our communities.

It is a hard grace for us to receive, but there are practical ways to help establish a sabbath. Dorothy Bass advises avoiding three things: work, commerce, and worry. Working nonstop makes us our own God, thinking all we have is by what we’ve done. And how prideful to think the world rotates because of our work. Stopping, just for one day, gives space for us to reflect on all that God has done and all the ways God provides for us.

And we’ll find that when we have balance with work, we’ll encourage others to have that too.

As for commerce, buying and spending are wrapped up in work. As Bass notes, “commerce creates the conditions for work and often more work. When we pause buying and spending, we pause work for others also.”

And likely the hardest thing to not do is worry. If you aren’t working, then you are worrying about work, or what needs done around the house, or the family problem that needs to be addressed, or the upcoming election and latest headlines. While it is undoubtedly hard to cast away our worries completely, we can refrain from things that induce worry, radical things like having your phone by your side, reading the news, checking Facebook or your email, or pausing the house project.

This may sound restricting, oppressive even. But the intent is the opposite. Sabbath is a day made for you, as Jesus tells us, a day to be life giving and rejuvenating. A day where you are free to rest, celebrate, and feast. Walk, play, and pray. Love and be loved. Serve, study, and sing. And most importantly, free to worship and give thanks for the grace of God that is ours through Jesus. Every sabbath is a little easter celebrating that we need not work ourselves to death in order to save ourselves. Christ has done that for you. No matter how well you keep the sabbath, it does not get you to heaven. And neither does any amount of work you do or money you make.

So put down the duckie and remember the sabbath. If a whole day seems too much at first, try it for six hours. You might be surprised at how hard this is and how it changes not only your day, but your family’s day too.

Which is why sabbath isn’t meant to be done alone. Sabbath is done best in a community, a group of people willing to go against the culture of ceaseless consumption and production.

Sabbath is the grace of rest, helping us see that who we are cannot be reduced to the work we can or cannot do, and tells us that we are loved, you are loved simply because you are a child of God. Sabbath truly is grace with no strings attached.

Thanks be to God.

Amen.

Holy Trinity - God as Plot

John 3:1-17

Now there was a Pharisee named Nicodemus, a leader of the Jews. He came to Jesus by night and said to him, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God, for no one can do the signs that you do apart from the presence of God.” Jesus said to him, “Very truly I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God without being born from above.” Nicodemus said to him, “How can one be born after having grown old? Can one enter a second time into the mother’s womb and be born?”

Jesus said to him, “Very truly I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born of water and spirit. What is born of the flesh is flesh and what is born of the spirit is spirit. Do not be astonished that I have said to you, ‘You must be born from above.’ The wind blows where it chooses and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the spirit.” Nicodemus said to him, “How can these things be?” Jesus said, “Are you a teacher of Israel and yet you do not understand these things?

Very truly I tell you, we speak about what we know and we testify to what we have seen and you do not receive our testimony. If I tell you about earthly things and you do not believe, how can you believe if I tell you about heavenly things? No one has ascended into heaven except the one who descended from heaven, the Son of Man, and just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, so that everyone who believes in him may have eternal life. For God so loved the world that he gave his only son that whoever believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life. Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.”

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Holy Trinity Sunday can be kind of a chore for preachers and kind of a snore for those who show up for worship – and on a holiday weekend, no less. On Holy Trinity Sunday, preachers are invited – and expected, maybe – to do the theological gymnastics of TEACHING more than PREACHING, it seems to me, about the doctrine of God’s identity that church people call the Trinity … about the namesake of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit … about how they are three in one and one in three … about how they relate to and through one another and to you and me in a very academic sense. Like I said … a chore and a snore. There’s a place for all of that, don’t get me wrong. I’m just inclined to think it’s more meaningful in the classroom than in the sanctuary. It’s a head thing, not a heart thing, if you will. And I believe worship is a place for more of the latter.

One of the redeeming things, though, about the lectionary on a high-minded, theologically taxing day like today, is that we get to wonder about this moment between Jesus and Nicodemus as part of it all. See, I imagine Nicodemus seeks Jesus out, looking for something like a little academic instruction … some intellectual insight … some theological gymnastics of his own that he can use to either find some common ground or fight with Jesus about it all.

And Jesus surprises Nicodemus by being all “you must be born from above” … and “what is born of the flesh is flesh,” and “what is born of the spirit is spirit” … and “the answer my friend, is blowing in the wind, the answer is blowing in the wind.” And Nicodemus is like, “How can these things be?!?!”

I had a conversation not long ago, that came to mind when I read, again, about Nicodemus coming to Jesus – by night – with his questions about life and faith, flesh and spirit, signs and salvation, and the nature of God. My questioner came by night, too. We were in a bar. This young man knew what I do for a living and, like Nicodemus, had some questions. (I don’t remember them exactly, to be honest. Did I mention we were in a bar? And had been there for quite some time, if you know what I mean.)

Anyway, he wanted to know something about things like grace and forgiveness and about what it means to “be saved” or “to get into heaven,” and – in short, I think it’s fair to say – do we all make the cut? Is there a way to know for sure? Are there any limits to the grace, mercy, and love of God, that churches like ours preach, teach and talk about so much? Like so many of us do, my questioner had been hearing competing versions of the story.

Like Nicodemus, he was surprised and skeptical about what I tried to say. “How can these things be!?!”

I had another conversation a week or so ago (this time over the phone, not at the bar) with a mother – not from here – whose daughter, away at school, was being forced out of a Christian organization she helped bring to her college campus, because she refused to sign a document or make a profession of faith that denounced and excluded and otherwise deemed LGBTQ+ people to be sinners in need of repentance in order to be worthy of God’s love.

Like Nicodemus, this wise, faithful, grace-centered, love-your-neighbor-as-yourself kind of young woman was asking, incredulously, “How can these things be!?!”

In both of these conversations – and the many others like them that I have fairly often – my go-to Bible verses include this one from John, chapter 3. It’s one most people have seen or heard before. But, as some of you know, I prefer verse 17 to verse 16 – or at least I don’t like so much that John 3:16 gets all the press and verse 17 never makes it onto the T-shirt or the poster board. Verse 17 says, “Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.” Jesus came NOT to condemn, but to SAVE. And I think it’s safe to assume that if that was God’s goal and intention, then it’s likely God can make that happen.

My other go-to is that bit from Romans where Paul is convinced – and convinces me – that nothing in all of creation – not hardship, or distress, or persecution – not famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword – not death or life, not angels or rulers, not things present or things to come, not powers, or height, or depth – not who or how you love – not the color of your skin – not your gender or your pronouns, and not even if they match the way the world thinks they should – not anything else in all creation, Paul says – nothing – no thing will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

“How can these things be!?!”

I’m just getting to know – by way of his writing and speaking – a guy named Pádraig Ó Tuama. Among so many other things, he’s an Irish poet and a theologian. His book, In the Shelter, was the first thing I read when I started my Sabbatical, a year ago, and he’s been popping up in meaningful ways ever since. In Christian Century magazine recently, an interviewer said to him, “My sense is that you are not particularly interested in questions about belief. If that’s the case, what does interest you?”

Ó Tuama replied, “I mean, what is God? God’s just a sound that we make with our mouths. Whatever God is … is discovered … in the possibility of doing something surprising. That sounds like something Jesus would say. “The wind blows where it chooses … you hear it … but you don’t know where it comes from or where it’s going.”

And Ó Tuama also said this: “I don’t believe in God as character, but I do believe in God as plot.”

And I like that, because it, too, sounds like something Jesus might say. And it resists our temptation and the pretense of Holy Trinity Sunday, that we can put God in a box, labeled with a name – or even three names. “I don’t believe in God as character, but I do believe in God as plot.”

In other words, for me, at least, God is a plot that doesn’t sit still long enough to be defined in the simplest terms and the most convenient definitions of even the wisest, most learned theologians – unless, maybe, that theologian is also a poet.

God is the love that lives and moves and breathes among us. God is the hope that allows us to love one another when too many others refuse to share that love. God is the peace that passes all understanding, that catches us off-guard, when we least expect or deserve it.

God is plot – in action, on the move, alive and well – not a character, with a single name, standing still, waiting to be painted and hung on a wall or captured with words and printed on a page. [Even God refused to name God’s self when they met up with Moses at the burning bush, way back in Genesis. God was “I Am,” whatever that means. And Moses, in his own way, was like, “How can these things be?!?”]

God is plot – the unfolding of a story, the development of the narrative, the movement of grace gathering us together and moving us along, too, toward one another and out into the world.

God is plot – being born, rushing like water, blowing like wind, ascending and descending, lifting up and being lifted, sending and saving – never perishing, not condemning.

My hope for Holy Trinity Sunday – and every day – is that we’ll always be on the lookout for the surprising ways of God in our midst. That we’ll communicate that with one another and out there in the world – not just by wrestling with doctrine and definitions – but by wrestling with ways to get in on the PLOT of God’s plan that we love one another, forgive one another, share grace and generosity that is undeniable, abundant, and as life-giving as the God we know in Jesus, crucified and risen – not to condemn – but to SAVE the whole wide world and God’s people in it.

Amen