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Suffering and Sadness - A Sermon by Alicia S Rapp

By Administrator | October 10, 2007

Suffering and Sadness

2 Timothy 1:1-14

World Communion, October 7, 2007

 

I.      If I had had a completely free hand in choosing scripture this

                morning,

                we would not be hearing from 2 Timothy.

 

        The pastoral letters—I and II Timothy and Titus—are not

                among my favorites.

 

        Part of my bias lies in the fact, admittedly,

that parts of these letters are so often quoted in

other churches to subdue and restrict people by the

law, from which Jesus came to set us free.

 

        Here are some gems from I Timothy:

                “Let women learn in silence with full submission.

                I permit no woman to teach or to have full authority

                over a man; she is to keep silent.”

 

        The qualifications of bishops and deacons are outlined

                in this letter, allowing that they be married only once

                and have control over their children and households.

        Interestingly, women are allowed to be deacons.

 

        You will perhaps like this part:

                “No longer drink only water, but take a little wine for

                        the sake of your stomach and your frequent

                        ailments.”

 

        Slavery is firmly upheld, especially if the master is a good

                Christian.

 

        And widows are regarded with suspicion.

                After all, they may have “sensual desires” and decide

                        to marry again.

               

Apparently, after the age of 60, they are considered

                        safe.

 

        This is hardly a reflection of the teachings of Jesus,

                who rebelled against the stiff religious and political

structures of his age,

who welcomed women and foreigners

        and set those who were captive free.

 

        This is not even in the theology of Paul as revealed in

                Romans, I and II Corinthians, and Galatians.

 

        This is an institutional church, a much-later development

                and a far cry from the earliest apostolic teachings…

 

                which is perhaps why the contemporary church is so

                hungry for it.

 

        It regulates and legislates.

                It moves the church comfortably back into the world

and away from that which calls might call us

into difficult places, even to sit in prison

with Paul.

 

II.     II Timothy, though clearly coming from the same setting,

                has a much different tone.

 

        Almost every scholar of measure agrees that the pastoral

                letters, as well as several of the other epistles,

                did not come from Paul’s hand.

 

        The language, vocabulary, and theological concerns are

                uncharacteristic of the apostle.

 

        Most probably, these letters were written in his name

in order to give the words authority,

a common practice of the time.

 

        If II Timothy were not so tied by its address to the first letter,

                it might have passed the test of authenticity.

 

        What is genuine about the letter is the personal pain from

                which it comes.

 

III.    This letter is a lament.

 

        The author—we will say Paul—was in prison and suffering.

                He was astounded to find himself largely abandoned by

                        friends and the faith community.

 

        The church had moved on without him.

 

        It was budget time, after all, and there were the usual

                important discussions about deficits and making cuts

                and having fundraisers.

 

        That awful Ananias and Sapphira incident of a few years before

                (see Acts 5) had left a nasty taste in everyone’s mouth

                around Stewardship time.

 

        To be honest, tithing was looking pretty good.

 

        And, it was nominating season, the election of church officers.

                The women, by and large, had been running things—

                providing food for the great feast of communion,

                taking care of the sick and the poor,

                        the widows and the orphans,

                and continuing in the study of scripture.

 

        But now there was some grumbling.

                For what self-respecting institution is run by women?

                If the church were ever to be honored in society,

                        there better be some men at the helm.

 

        Meanwhile Paul, far away in chains in Rome, wept.

 

        He wept because he was forgotten and alone.

 

This man who is proclaimed to be almost single-handedly

                responsible for the spread of the Christian faith,

                was at the last abandoned by a church self-possessed.

 

        And he wept for that reason as well:

                because the church of Jesus Christ had become

                self-possessed, an institution concerned with itself.

 

IV.    Sometimes we are pulled out of our lethargy by the most

                unexpected sources.

 

        I have been watching with fascination the events in the closed

                nation of Myanmar, the former Burma,

                where Buddhist monks took to the streets to protest

                against the government.

 

        I knew a little of this country’s history from the reading of a

                novel last year, Amy Tan’s “Saving Fish From Drowning.”

 

        When I ask what people think about the activities in this place,

                I often here variations on a theme:

                “we should do something” or “they won’t succeed without

                                                                intervention.”

 

        We largely see ourselves, rightly or wrongly, as a Christian

                nation.

        Yet our response to any problem seems to be violence,

                armed intervention.

 

        Myanmar is a Buddhist nation.

                There are as many monks in that country as there are

                        soldiers,

                and the soldiers are mostly Buddhist.

 

 

 

        So, when those monks, pacifists, march in the streets,

                and those soldiers are commanded to strike them down,

                it is like ordering a Catholic to strike a priest.

 

        They may do it…for now, but it has a lasting effect.

 

        These soldiers will be searching their souls.

 

        They will be making a decision:

                will they continue to serve a corrupt government,

                        which turns them even against their own faith,

                or will they put down their weapons and be true to what

                        they have been taught, what their hearts know?

 

        The Buddhists know the truth of eternity, something

                Christians may have lost:

 

                they know they may not prevail today or even this year.

 

        But they will win.

                In another generation, Myanmar, Burma, will be free.

 

 

        So I am watching Myanmar with great admiration and

                wondering:  where are the Christians in the U.S.?

 

        Because the top story of the week has been the

                Blackwater scandals.

 

        Privately-contracted soldiers from our country to Iraq have

                been completely out of control, committing murderous

                acts, even against allies, and have had their crimes

                covered up by the state department.

 

        And for that, and many more acts of violence and hate,

                I am ashamed.

 

 

V.     Paul reminds us that God did not give us a spirit of cowardice,

                but rather a spirit of power and of love!

 

        He calls out to us to rekindle the passion,

                the spirit, the gift we first had from God.

 

        This is no letter about institutions and status quo.

                It is not concerned with the place of women and men

                        and slaves and masters,

                        which, by the way, Paul always declared

                                as equal in Christ Jesus

                                (see Galatians 3:28 and Colossians 3:10).

 

        This letter, in the more typical style of Paul,

                is about freedom.

        It is the writing of a man in chains, crying out to the

                church to remember who we are,

                calling us to reclaim our power,

                to be Christ’s church, for Christ’s sake!

 

VI.    We do have institutional work to do together.

                That’s part of life in this world.

 

        So it is budget time and nominating season.

 

        There is another more important time in the life of the church

                that presents itself.

 

        Paul, from that particular vantage point when death

                approaches and life comes into focus with great clarity,

                begs us not to lose sight of our priorities.

 

        As we gather around the table on World Communion Sunday,

                we would come with joy,

                and yet we are aware of great pain and suffering.

 

        Genocide in Darfur, which we promised sixty years ago the

                world would never experience again.

 

        It’s not the Christians or the politicians who are

                fighting the battle, but the celebrities, for goodness

                sake.

        I suppose someone has to do it.

 

        Today, another young friend ships out for Afghanistan,

                his third tour since the war began.

 

        He is going to a place where the name “Christian” is associated

                with violence, lies and torture.

 

        The question raised by II Timothy is “do we even care?”

 

        Have we become so self-possessed as to think,

                as we come to eat at Christ’s table,

                that these things have nothing to do with us?

 

        Or do we come with a little bit of trembling,

with a sense of the power of our faith,

the assignment we are given,

                the task to which we are called?

 

        Will the flame of faith be rekindled in us today?

 

        Or will we just continue on the way…

                with budgets and nominations of officers

                and death in Darfur and torture in Iraq and

lies in Afghanistan and poverty in Palm Bay…       

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