Blessed Assurance

(Scriptures: Genesis 15:1-6, Psalm 33
Hebrews 11:1-3, 8-16 Luke 12:32-40)

Did anyone watch the winter Olympics earlier this year in Vancouver? I turned on the channel a few times, but it seemed that every time I watched, they were showing a curling competition….and that just isn’t my favorite thing to watch. But one thing you might remember is that before the games begin, there is the ceremonial carrying of the Olympic torch, beginning in Greece, and been carried over a period of months to wherever the games are situated. Of course, one person isn’t carrying the flame for all that time; it’s carried by a number of people over many miles, until the final climactic moment when final runner arrives to light the symbolic cauldron, signifying the beginning of the games. And while the final carrier of the flame may be a famous athlete or some other person of symbolic importance to the host country, there are many other people, mostly anonymous, involved in carrying the flame over many miles to its final destination.

Today begins a series of readings from the letter to the Hebrews. This letter was written to sustain an early Christian community, likely composed largely but not entirely of Jewish converts to the way of Jesus. This letter is unique in its emphasis on the role of Jesus as our great high priest, “a priest forever, according to the order of Melchizedek”. This community was undergoing persecution and hardship, and becoming discouraged, and this letter was written to encourage them to keep on keeping on.

The letter to the Hebrews does this in several ways. In the first verse of today’s reading, we see “Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” In essence, the writer is telling his readers, “what you see isn’t all you get” – that behind the routine of daily life, where the early church faced persecution, ridicule, and discouragement, God’s plan of salvation is unfolding on a scale that is both cosmic and personal, on a scale that involves all creation and all of humanity, living and dead – but also involves you, and you, and you, and me. The focal point of that plan is Jesus Christ, crucified, resurrected and ascended, our great high priest, who constantly intercedes with God the Father on our behalf.

“Faith is the assurance of things hoped for…” - well, what does that mean? What is faith? Those who remember the old sit-com “All in the Family” may remember that its main character, Archie Bunker, was constantly arguing with his son-in-law Mike, whom Archie referred to as “Meathead”. In the course of one argument, Archie Bunker explained faith to his atheist son-in-law thus: “Faith, Meathead, faith is something you believe that nobody in his right mind would believe.”

Not exactly words I would use to teach a confirmation class. But Archie does have a point, of a sort: faith involves trusting that there is a spiritual reality beyond the daily routine that we can see and hear and smell and touch and taste. It involves trusting that God knows us and cares for us – and our neighbor, and for all creation – and that despite all the very real crimes and tragedies that mark all of our lives, ultimately God’s purpose will not be thwarted, that God can bring good out of terrible tragedy – in the words of the old hymn, that “though the wrong seems oft’ so strong, God is the ruler yet.”

This may seem a little different from the definition of faith with which we grew up. Many of us grew up in churches that told us that faith was about memorizing the Apostles’ Creed or some other statement of faith. And creeds are important – they are like containers for our faith, giving our faith shape and form – but possessing a living faith means more than being able to recite words. Rather, living faith is trust – childlike trust – in God, in the saving work of Jesus Christ, in the ongoing witness of the Holy Spirit in our lives. Rather than something that narrows our horizons and blinds our vision, faith is an openness to the witness of Scripture and the witness of the saints of the past – and an openness to seeing God’s action in the present, and an openness to the new directions in which God may be calling us. It has been said that “tradition is the living faith of the dead, while traditionalism is the dead faith of the living.” We value the insights of the past, but we are not bound by them. Rather, we look for ways in which God is active in our individual lives and in our gathered life at Emanuel Church, right here, right now, today. And, true to Archie Bunkers words, those around us may think we’re not in our right mind, that we’re a little crazy to speak of faith and hope in a world of tragedy. But we persist, because we know that what we see is not all we get.

After the writer of Hebrews speaks of faith, he reminds his readers – and reminds us – that they and we are part of a spiritual family with a long lineage, a spiritual line that goes back to Abraham and Moses and David and all the great patriarchs and matriarchs of the Old Testament. Sort of like the long, winding journey of the Olympic torch, Abraham and Sarah, Moses, and all the rest carried the torch of faith through all the long centuries. There were times when those who carried the torch grew weary, or didn’t take their responsibility seriously. There were times when it seemed like the torch was flickering, and on the verge of going out. The writer of Hebrews is telling his readers that “now the torch of faith, which Abraham and Moses and all the rest carried in their time, has now been passed to you and to me, to us. Now is not the time to drop out of the race or let the flame go out!”

While we don’t face the persecution of the early church, we’re all too familiar with frustration, with loss of hope. As that flame passed from the Jewish patriarchs to the early church, the torch of faith has now been passed to us. Some of us here have carried that torch of faith for many a long year. Others have joined the race much more recently. No matter. All of us – every single one of us – has a role in carrying that torch of faith in our generation, and passing it on to generations to come.

I’ll close with these words, attributed to the late Archbishop Oscar Romero:

It helps, now and then, to step back and take a long view.
The kingdom is not only beyond our efforts,
it is even beyond our vision.
We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction
of the magnificent enterprise that is God’s work.
Nothing we do is complete, which is a way of saying
that the kingdom always lies beyond us.
No statement says all that could be said.
No prayer fully expresses our faith.
No confession brings perfection.
No pastoral visit brings wholeness.
No program accomplishes the church’s mission.
No set of goals and objectives includes everything.
This is what we are about.
We plant the seeds that one day will grow.
We water seeds already planted,
knowing that they hold future promise.
We lay foundations that will need further development.
We provide yeast that produces far beyond our capabilities.
We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation
in realizing that. This enables us to do something,
and to do it very well. It may be incomplete,
but it is a beginning, a step along the way,
an opportunity for the Lord’s grace to enter and do the rest.
We may never see the end results, but that is the difference
between the master builder and the worker.
We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs.
We are prophets of a future not our own.
Amen.
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Please join us on Sunday mornings at 10 a.m. at Emanuel United Church of Christ. We're on Fillmore Street, just off Thompson. www.emanuelphila.org