MUMC Sermon-05/28/06

Yesterday I was standing in a famous New York City toy store and saw a stuffed elephant for sale. The elephant was enormous--not life-size of course, but probably almost as big as a golf cart. The price for this item? $15.000. $15,000 for a stuffed animal. This, at least as much as any glance at the morning paper, confirms inarguably that all is not right with the world. I stood there wondering to myself, “Just what is it that has to happen in order to put $15,000 elephants up for sale?” Twenty-four hours later I’m still not certain I can say for sure, but it seems a fair guess to say that reality has lost its footing somewhere along the way. But reality is a big word that can stand for all kinds of things, so let me narrow it a bit. By reality, what I mean is things that are true. And by this I don’t mean the opposite of false: true like an answer on a test. I mean true like a beam in the frame of a house. If the beam has been set correctly and level it is said to be true. If the frame is not true, the house will fall.

I begin this way, not only because I’m still reeling from the elephant, but because both of our readings this morning challenge us about what is true. In the opening words of the book of Acts, Luke presents the story of Jesus’ ascension: the moment, forty days after the resurrection, in which Jesus is miraculously transported up to heaven as his friends observe.

The story begins with Jesus’ parting words to his disciples, “It is not for you to know the times or periods that the Father has set by his own authority. But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” Luke continues, “When he had said this, as they were watching, he was lifted up, and a cloud took him out of their sight. While he was going and they were gazing up towards heaven, suddenly two men in white robes stood by them. They said, ‘Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking up towards heaven? This Jesus, who has been taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven.”

It’s a rather fantastic picture, isn’t it? Full of supernatural effects like clouds and angels. And I wonder, how many of you would say that you believe this story is true? Along with things like the virgin birth and the resurrection, the ascension can offend our logical sensibilities. Stories like these can make our contemporary, somewhat scientific minds cringe. Especially when religious-types go around yelling about them being true. I can’t tell you how many people, at churches, in seminaries, right here, talk about how problematic some of the claims of Christianity are for them.

I myself am among this group, but I have to admit that I am beginning to wonder what all our fuss has been about. Why are “truths” like the resurrection and the ascension regularly the recipients of far deeper scrutiny, doubt, and disbelief than other things out there? Why are we seemingly more ready to question Mary’s virginity than the media’s integrity? Are we in danger of ignoring the $15,000 elephant in the room?

The DaVinci Code and its related empire have brought the questioning of religious claims to a new level of popularity. Dan Brown seems to have given everyone the permission they were looking for to finally debunk some of Christianity’s doctrines and dogmas. It’s all the rage everywhere from water coolers to cocktail parties. All this to protect ourselves from the damage religion can do.

Fine. Such work is, at times, immensely important. But what about the many other things from which we need protection? Like the belief that we cannot be too thin, or fit, or have too many possessions? Or the “truth” that without the possessions or with the weight we are unlovable, unworthy, or unhappy? When will we challenge the claim that poor people are poor because they must not be trying very hard? When will we get wise to the way we are duped into believing that tragedy is entertaining? At what point do we energetically uproot the preconceptions we all carry around within us about those who are different — racially, economically, ideologically or otherwise? When will we question the apathy that runs on the belief that the world is beyond changing? And perhaps, most importantly of all, how long will it be before we dare to question the things we have come to believe about ourselves — the insecurities, fears, anxieties, and lies that hold us all captive at points along our journey?

Is it any wonder that Jesus prays for his followers, “They do not belong to the world, just as I do not belong to the world. Sanctify them in the truth; your word is truth. As you have sent me into the world, so I have sent them into the world. And for their sakes I sanctify myself, so that they also may be sanctified in truth.” In our gospel lesson today John records these words of Jesus as a prayer offered just before his betrayal. In his eleventh hour Jesus makes one request on behalf of his friends: sanctify them in truth. In other words, set them apart, distinguish them by their reliance on things that are true — things that are worth building something around.

I believe this prayer is true. And by that I am not necessarily saying that I believe Jesus said these exact words on that exact night — maybe he did, maybe he didn’t. What matters more than any factual proof might offer is the reality that Jesus loved with the kind of love that made John certain he would pray this prayer. The love is what makes the prayer true. And what this prayer signifies to me friends, is this: God desires that our lives be built around things that are true; that we will be known by how well our foundations hold up; and that all the true things needed to make such a life are ours for the asking.

To be a Christian is to live by things that are true. This does not mean, as many would claim, that to be a Christian means believing certain traditional religious-y things with a blind and aggressive faith. Because more than the ascension is a doctrine to be confirmed, it is a sign of something deeper. The ascension is a story about a God who refused to abandon this servant Jesus. It is about a God who finishes all that is set in motion. It is a story about a God whose love is like a Father welcoming home, in glorious fashion, a Son long away. For the record, I believe the story of the ascension is true; and by this I mean that it is something that can hold up, and is worthy of building around.

As I write I am looking out my window at the side of the church. Aging boards from the façade are being replaced with newer, stronger ones. Much time has been spent in recent months discussing how incredibly difficult it can be to maintain an enormous wooden church that is nearly150 years old and just off the Long Island Sound. The odds are hardly in the building’s favor. But I am realizing, as I look at our building midway through this most recent surgery, that what is most true about this place are not the beams that hold this frame. Left alone and empty, our grand structure would never survive. But MUMC has not been built around lumber alone. We are what is most true about this place: generations of faithful people calling this their home and choosing again and again to build lives around truths that hold up sometimes in spite of ourselves and our buildings.

For years the people of this place have been willing to build around what is really true, truer than so much of what the world has been able to throw at them. God is. And God is love. And all people are loved by God, without merit and beyond measure. We are. And we are created in God’s image. Which means before all else we are loved and we are lovers of God and neighbor.

It’s the truth that has made Javier feel like a broken record the past many weeks. And of course it’s because the lessons for six weeks have been about this love. But I suspect that it’s also because for the past two-hundred years the call has really remained the same. Had it not, I for one cannot believe that we or our building would still be here.

This Memorial Day weekend, is a time of remembrance for many of you. Today I suggest we as a congregation take a cue from our country and remember those who have gone before us in this place. They have left to us a building, yes. But it is a building held up by the truth of God’s love. As we remember them, we ought to give thanks, but also be ready to work. This truth is our responsibility now. Jesus’ prayer has been answered. This truth has sanctified us. It has set us apart.

Martin Luther King, Jr. has said that “unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in reality.” I believe he is absolutely right, provided there are people who will carry on that kind of truth and give themselves over to that kind of love. I believe we are those people. God’s love and ours will be the final word.