Deep Gladness

Sermon for The Eleventh Sunday After Pentecost

St. John's, Georgetown Parish | Washington, DC

Jeremiah 1:4-10

Luke 13:10-17

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“Now I have put my words in your mouth. See today I appoint you over nations and over kingdoms, to pluck up and to pull down, to destroy and to overthrow, to build and to plant.”

...And so begins the book of Jeremiah. No grandeur lacking. From the very outset of his vocational life, the Prophet Jeremiah receives this fierce, divine armation of his identity and purpose. And it is really quite moving in its beauty; God speaks directly to Jeremiah in poetic form:

“Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, And before you were born I consecrated you; I appointed you a prophet to the nations.”

I wonder how many of us hear this account and immediately think to ourselves: “Must be nice, Jeremiah.” I mean, really, this is about as powerful an armation of one’s being and personhood as you can get, right?

For many these are quite familiar words. There’s a reason why as I was preparing this sermon the moment I typed “Before I formed you...”, my Google Doc auto-populated for me the rest of the sentence, “...in the womb I knew you.” Maybe my Google account has just received a robust Christian formation or it is actually developing sentient intelligence. Setting that trail aside though, these are familiar words.

But for as familiar and arming as these words are, what do they have to say to the rest of us? Because, really, wouldn’t it be just a bit foolish to think we too are appointed over nations and kingdoms? Sure, it’s a nice sentiment but maybe a little out of touch with the day-in, day-out reality of our lives... Before we envy Jeremiah’s seemingly privileged position though, there is far more to the situation. This account isn’t describing something happening in the present–but rather it is written in hindsight. This is written long after those early days–Jeremiah can now see with a bit more clarity. But even an act of remembrance like this suggests some doubt lingers and reassurance is needed.

When God first calls, Jeremiah resists. And in doing so, he joins the lineage of Moses, Gideon, Saul, Isaiah, Ezekiel–to name just a few. Like so many of those we lift up in our scriptures, God’s call would seem to make Jeremiah weak in the knees. So, he objects. Because what fool would behold God’s grandeur and then enthusiastically take upon themselves this yoke of faith without some trembling? After all–as the Apostle Paul writes–to many this message of God’s work is indeed foolishness.

With some reassurance though, Jeremiah then evidently responds with faithfulness. Not that it gets any more easy, though. During his life Jeremiah witnesses the great reign of King Josiah, a time of profound promise and revival... And then he experiences first hand the fall and destruction of Jerusalem.

This time is one of chaos, of survival, and of fleeting hope. The Prophet Jeremiah knows what it’s like to exist in an unraveling world–and who could possibly fault him for throwing in the towel? But through his willingness to trust what God is doing, he surely comes to know a thing or two not only about “plucking up and pulling down” but also the sheer audacity of “building and planting.” Now, where this lesson invites reflection on vocational faithfulness, Luke’s Gospel wraps real flesh around it. Jesus of course also knows what it is to exist between what is and what ought to be.

Luke’s account tells us of Jesus teaching in the synagogue. It is the Sabbath day. He is describing what the Kingdom of God is like. And in between descriptions –you can almost imagine him mid-sentence–there appears this woman.

She does not approach Jesus. She does not seek healing. She has long endured the ailment that troubles her. She expects no intervention. Suering is not new and her aiction has long been ignored–especially when it might inconvenience the holiness of Sabbath.

The Sabbath is a gift instituted by God, though. It expresses God’s desire that we know wholeness. The point of this day of rest was never to diminish or bind humanity, but to nurture the freedom and wholeness of all persons.

So, Jesus takes action. Jesus intervenes–and a miraculous moment takes place. Through the power of God, healing flows. Now, we don’t know how the woman initially responds. She has navigated the system for far-too-long; by this point she knows how things work.

So, it would be understandable if she might at first roll her eyes. Maybe she does. What we are told though is that something happens. The woman’s body is unbound–and set free, she responds with gladness.

Despite this scene of jubilation, a conflict unfolds. Policies have been carefully legislated to protect this Holy Sabbath day of rest. But in bringing healing, Jesus has chosen to instead align himself with the needs of this woman. And whether he intends it as such or not, there is no denying this is an act of disruption. So, on one hand we have this multifaceted call of Jeremiah. And on the other the healing action of Jesus... And this is just what the Kingdom of God looks like. It is the faithfulness of those who hear God’s call and respond. It is a woman–once bound and now set free–joyfully praising God. And it is the power of God which sustains it all–and brings transformation.

Earlier this week, the theologian and prolific writer Frederick Buechner died. During his 96 years of life, Buechner oered treasures of deep wisdom. So, this morning I can’t help but think of some well-known words he wrote: “The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.”

I wonder then... what does this intersection between gladness and hunger look like? What does the Lord require of you? Of me, of this beloved community?

Perhaps this alignment looks like plucking up and pulling down. It may sound like a protest chant to dismantle dehumanizing social systems–like that proclamation of Mary the Mother of Jesus who sings that Christ has “cast down the mighty from their thrones” and “lied up the lowly.”

Perhaps this discernment looks like destroying and overthrowing. It may sound like cries to abolish draconian legislation–like Jesus’ proclamation of “good news to the poor” and “release to the captives.”

May we be so faithful. But these words alone are not the final word. Howard Thurman put it like this: “Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.”

Being alive with deep gladness is a risky act. It is creative. It requires the audacity to build and to plant. And this is the foundation of our vocation. Participating in what the God of creation is doing–from whom all life flows–is creative. It looks like the audacity to seek wholeness.

In recent years and in this time, anything but survival has often felt like simply too much. It can be all-too-tempting to dismiss the boldness of the Gospel as utter foolishness. And if that is the case, I think we may just be on exactly the right path...

Because as the Prophet Jeremiah and so many heroes of our faith know, God does not call the equipped, God equips the called.

Our world–and in particular this city–longs for healing. To be made whole. And if this transformation is to unfold, it will not be sustained by our own strength or merit. Rather, it will come through the healing power of God’s Spirit.

We do not need the right words or even a full vision. We need only be faithful to loving God, ourselves, and our neighbors. Offering our deep gladness to the world, that it might meet deep hunger. May it be so.

Amen.