Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30
July 3, 2011 / Third Sunday after Pentecost
Have you ever spent time sitting on a split rail fence? You sit on the top rail with your feet resting on the rail below, and from there you have a pretty good view of the world. I don’t see very many split rail fences any more – most of our fences are chain link fences – so I don’t see very many people literally sitting on fences. And yet, it remains an expression we use: “Sitting on the fence.”
A fence sitter is a person who either chooses to remain neutral or cannot make up his mind. Often, they prefer to watch what is happening – they choose not to get involved. In a close election, the candidates try to win over the fence sitters, trying to get them down off that fence on their side of the fence. Some people choose to stay on the fence, not taking sides, and just watching the events of the world go by.
When Jesus asked the crowds in today’s gospel lesson, “But to what shall I compare this generation?” (11:16), I got a vivid image of a generation of fence sitters. In the verses leading up to this verse, John’s disciples have come to Jesus to ask, “Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?” (11:3). The things they’ve seen and heard about Jesus don’t match their expectations of the Messiah. Jesus has come eating and drinking, making sure the wedding party has enough wine, and throwing a dinner party for five thousand people with only five loaves and two fish. Jesus has befriended tax collectors and sinners; he has laid hands on those untouchable lepers and spoken healing words to prostitutes. His actions were abundant and generous and all inclusive – everyone was welcome at his parties.
On the other hand, John came neither eating nor drinking. John wore itchy camel’s hair clothing and hung out in the wilderness of Judea. He called people to repent, warning them to flee from the wrath to come. John left us with images of chaff burning with unquenchable fire. John was a fire and brimstone preacher – scary and a little wild – so very different from Jesus.
“To what shall I compare this generation?” Jesus’ generation was a generation of fence sitters. “We played the flute for you, and you did not dance; we wailed, and you did not mourn” (11:17). This generation saw Jesus eating and drinking and didn’t join the party. Instead they called him a glutton and a drunkard. This generation saw John preaching repentance and refused to be baptized. Instead they said ‘He has a demon.’ This generation saw the disciples perform deeds of power – the sick were healed, the blind received their sight, the lame walked, and the deaf could hear – and still they sat on the fence. Still they did not believe.
“To what shall I compare this generation?” Perhaps it seems shocking to us that so many people in Jesus’ time were fence sitters, watching John and watching Jesus, and yet remaining unmoved by what they saw. Here is the prophet Elijah who has come again; here is the Son of God, the Messiah, the Savior of the world standing right here. And yet they ask, “Are you the one who is to come?” Jesus cries, “Let anyone with ears listen!” (11:15). Listen and you will hear the truth. Open your eyes and you will see the truth. And yet, the people – and especially the leaders – continued to sit on the fence.
“To what shall I compare this generation?” Jesus’ question back then is still relevant today. We are also a generation of fence sitters. We are not very good at dancing when the flute is played; we’d rather not mourn when we see others wailing. We worry about what others will think if we are seen dancing for joy; we don’t think we can bear the weight of grief of another – our own burdens are already heavy enough. We’ve grown up believing in another expression: “Everything in moderation.” Dancing for joy and wailing with others is anything but moderation.
Let me speak to two places where so many of us are fence sitters, places where we practice moderation when God would have us be more like Jesus or John. First, and perhaps surprisingly, we are often fence sitters in our worship of God. Here we are, gathered together to worship the Creator of the universe – the One who placed every star in the sky and knows every hair on our head. We are worshipping the God of Abraham, who loved the world so much that He sent his Son into the world to live among us. We are worshipping the Son of God, Jesus Christ, who loves each one of us so much that he bore the humiliation and shame of death on a cross so that we might be set free. We are worshipping God, the Holy Spirit, who swept over the waters at creation and blows through the church today, giving us life and empowering us to transform the world. We are worshipping this amazing and awesome God who has already reconciled the world to himself. And yet, there is a hesitancy, a moderation in our worship.
We are hesitant in our singing – afraid to sing out, perhaps because we’ll hit the wrong note. Our posture in worship often looks more resigned than joyful, we slouch before our King instead of raising our hands in praise. Our prayers are often half-hearted – we confess our sins but we don’t really hear the words we are praying, and we pray the Our Father but we don’t really think about what “thy kingdom come on earth” means. We are distracted as we hear the Word of God read and proclaimed by grocery lists and afternoon picnic plans. Sure, there are moments – moments when we hear the flute playing and we dance. But too often our praise and worship fails to engage every fiber of our being. We watch worship from the fence instead of giving our hearts and minds and souls and bodies to our worship of the living God.
Now, in our defense, let me say that some of this is because we’ve been taught to sit quietly in church. We’ve been told not to clap our hands or stamp our feet in worship, even though the psalms are full of calls to praise the Lord with our entire being. We don’t think we should respond to the preacher during the sermon, even with an “Amen.” And yet Jesus was almost driven off a cliff by his first congregation. We’ve seen baptisms with three drops of water and received tiny fragments of bread at the Lord’s Table – and consequently have failed to fully experience the incredible abundance of our God. Our fence sitting is a learned response from years – generations! – of worship. And changing habits is far from easy.
Secondly, we are fence sitters in our service to the world. Again, I believe this is a learned response. The church has taught us to send money to meet the needs of others both nearby and around the world. The church has sent us on week-long mission trips – wonderful and rich experiences where we have briefly touched the lives of others. The church has sent missionaries out into the world, special people who are called to proclaim the gospel in foreign lands. In all of these ways we have seen the suffering of others, but we have not really had to become engaged in that suffering. We have seen others wailing, and our hearts have been deeply touched, but we have not been asked to take the time to sit down and mourn with them.
I do blame much of this on the institution of the church and not on the people in the church. In seeking to help others, especially the poor around the world, the church has said and continues to say, “Please send money.” In seeking to proclaim the gospel to people who do not know Jesus, the church has trained specialists whom we support with money and prayers, instead of calling each one of us to proclaim the good news of Jesus Christ in our own communities here and now. Our fence sitting is a learned response, and changing habits is far from easy.
Friends, today I want to invite each one of us, myself included, to get down off that fence. Jesus came eating and drinking with everyone he met. Jesus lived life to its fullest, embracing every opportunity to proclaim the good news of the kingdom. Jesus’ inclusivity was shocking, even eating with the worst sinners! On the other hand, John came neither eating nor drinking, calling people to repent and be saved. He was as extreme in his proclamation as Jesus was, trying to get people’s attention. As children of God, we are called to dance when we hear the flute and to mourn when we hear others wailing. We are called to give ourselves fully to the worship of God, both here in our communal worship, and in our private and family prayers and devotions. And then we are called to go out into the world to give ourselves for others, certainly with our money, but also with our time and our talents. We are called to visit those in prison, feed the hungry, heal the sick, and sit with those who mourn. And we can’t do any of this sitting on a fence.
Many years ago, as a child, I remember visiting Acapulco in Mexico. One of Acapulco’s biggest attractions is the cliff divers. I remember these cliff divers jumping from incredibly tall cliffs down into the waves of the Pacific Ocean and being absolutely terrified for them. If they didn’t time their dive just right they might hit the rocks instead of the swelling waters. Sometimes it looked like they dove off the cliffs exactly when the rocks were completely bare, trusting that another swell would come in before they reached the bottom of the cliff. It was both terrifying and exciting to watch.
God is calling us to be cliff divers instead of fence sitters. God longs for our worship to be bold and exciting. Then, through our worship, God is equipping us for brave and terrifying service to others. God wants us to live life to its fullest, in the full assurance that we do not do this alone. As Jesus said, “Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me... for my yoke is easy and my burden is light” (11:29-30). Loving God and loving one another is truly pure joy. Sure, it is a yoke that invites us into the suffering of others – but it is a suffering that has been redeemed on the cross. And certainly it is a yoke that demands obedience to God – but in that obedience we find grace and freedom and new life. So let’s quit sitting on the fence watching the world go by; let’s fully embrace our worship of God and, in response, let’s give ourselves fully to our neighbors. It is both as exciting and as terrifying as cliff diving, but we can trust that we’ll land in the water. God will always be there for us, dancing in our joy and wailing in our grief. Thanks be to God!
No comments:
Post a Comment