Scriptures: 1 Kings 8:1, 6, 9-13, 22-30, 41-43 Psalm
34:15-22
Ephesians
6:10-20 John 6:56-69
In Paul Schrader’s recent
movie “First Reformed” – I should mention that Paul Schrader, who grew up in
the Dutch Reformed Church and studied at Calvin College, is famous for writing
the screenplays of several Martin Scorcese movies of many years ago such as Taxi
Driver and Raging Bull – in Schrader’s latest movie, which he wrote and
directed, Ethan Hawke plays the troubled pastor of a historic Dutch Reformed
congregation in upstate New York, whose 250th anniversary is
approaching. Long ago, First Reformed
had been a stop on the Underground Railroad, a congregation deeply engaged in
working for freedom and justice. But in the present, the congregation has
dwindled to fewer than a dozen aging members, and parishioners on Sunday are outnumbered
by tourists from school groups who come during the week to hear about the
church’s history. First Reformed is
supported by a much larger megachurch, Abundant Life, the pastor of which
refers to First Reformed as “the souvenir shop” or “the museum”. [I’ll add that Abundant Life’s pastor is
played by Cedric the Entertainer, a casting choice which may reflect Paul
Schrader’s views on megachurch religion.] Hawke’s character counsels the
despondent husband of a new member, an environmental activist who is so
troubled by the projected future impact of pollution and climate change that he
doesn’t want to bring a child into the world, to grow up on what he expects to
be a toxic and increasingly uninhabitable planet – and the man’s wife is
pregnant. His question to Hawke’s character recurs throughout the movie: “Can God forgive us for what we’ve done to
his world?” [We later find out that the main financial sponsor of both Abundant
Life and First Reformed, and the main sponsor of the 250th
anniversary celebration, is an industrialist , named Ed Balc, whose company is
one of the area’s worst polluters – and the pastor of Abundant Life is entirely
complacent and complicit with the arrangement.]
Meanwhile, the body of First Reformed’s pastor increasingly resembles a
toxic waste dump, as Ethan Hawke’s character guzzles bottles of whiskey as if
it were ginger ale, while periodically spitting up blood, as he awaits
treatment for what may be terminal stomach cancer. And as the movie progresses, at least to me,
a question came up, a question that I ask any number of times in the midst of
any number of situations on any given week:
Where is God in this? Where is
God in this movie? Is God present in tiny First Reformed Church? In the megachurch, Abundant Life? In the pastor played by Ethan Hawke, as he
agonizes about the earth being trashed, while trashing his own body? In the megachurch pastor, content to take the
industrialist’s money and run? In the despairing
environmental activist who seeks counseling? In the activist’s wife, who later
also reaches out to the pastor of First Reformed? In the industrialist who
bankrolls both churches while his company trashes the landscape surrounding
them? Who speaks for God in this
movie? Or, in the movie, has God gone silent? Has God left the building entirely?
Our Scripture readings today
come from very different places, but as I was preparing my sermon, they seemed
to prompt a similar question – “Where does God live? Where is God in
this?” Our Old Testament reading from I
Kings describes the dedication of the Temple – and the reading very explicitly
raises the question of where God lives.
Solomon’s father, King David, had conceived the idea of building a
Temple to God, but God, speaking through the prophet Nathan, seemed ambivalent
at best about the notion. Up to that
time, a portable ark containing the two stone tablets of the commandments
represented God’s dwelling place, and so wherever God’s people went, God came
with them. But David’s Temple would seem
to confine God to one location and force people to come to that location to encounter
the Almighty. The ark would be confined
to that location, gathering dust. Essentially,
the Temple would seem to put God himself in a box, limiting the reach of God’s
presence and power. David is told that
he will not be allowed to build the Temple, but his son would do so. And so the long-awaited dedication of the
Temple came – but even as he prayed, Solomon reflected, “Will God dwell on
earth? The highest heaven cannot contain
God, let alone this building we’re dedicating today.” And yet Solomon hoped that not only would his
own people pray there, but that foreigners would come and be inspired to pray
at his magnificent temple – and that God would hear and answer their prayers.
Solomon hoped that his would be a house of prayer for all people.
In our Gospel reading, Jesus presents an understanding of God’s
presence that is poles apart from that of Solomon. “If you eat my flesh and drink my blood, you
will have eternal life,” Jesus tells his listeners. Many who had followed Jesus up to this point
abandoned him, perhaps thinking he was advocating some form of ritual
cannibalism. The Twelve were left, and
Jesus asked them, “Are you going to kick me to the curb as well.” Peter said, “Who else should we follow? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and know that you are
the Holy One of God.” And so while
Solomon located God’s presence in a place, in a building of his own
construction, Jesus located God’s presence in a person, namely himself, and
said that the way to encounter God was to eat his flesh and drink his blood –
in what would later become the sacrament of communion, but also in letting his
teachings and actions become a part of the life of his followers, so that Jesus
would live through them – through us, since we count ourselves as Jesus’
followers. In the movie First Reformed,
the pastor of First Reformed seems unconsciously to be eating and drinking the
world’s toxicity, taking the world’s poison into himself, ingesting it, letting
it destroy him. But Jesus invites us to
take himself into our lives in ways that are life-giving.
We need the life-giving presence of Jesus in our lives. In his letter to the Ephesians, Paul reminds
his readers – and reminds us – that in our journey through life, we’re up
against forces larger than ourselves.
Paul speaks of struggling
“against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers of this
present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly
places.” When Paul wrote these words, it
was generally believed that each nation, each church, every institution, had an
angel representing it before God – and it was understood that not all of these
angels were good angels; indeed, that some of these angels were in open
rebellion against God. In our day, we
may understand our world a bit differently, though theologian Walter Wink, in
his three-part trilogy on “the Powers”, wrote that institutions, not only
churches but corporations and governments, generate a kind of institutional
spiritual force or ethos that may or may not serve God’s purposes. And so Paul’s words remind us that we battle
against evil not only on an individual level, but on a systemic level – and so
there is not only individual sin and individual evil, but systemic sin and
systemic evil. And if we focus only on
individual sin, we leave a great deal of systemic sin unchallenged – the
classic example of this would be the churches of Germany in the 1930’s and
1940’s who focused on domestic values of hearth and home while never saying a
word against Hitler’s policies, which led millions to their deaths.
What does systemic sin and evil look like? In the movie First Reformed, it is
represented by the industrialist, Ed Balc, whose corporate profits funded two
churches which led people to Christ and nurtured faith, and yet created
environmental degradation, likely created increased rates of respiratory
distress and cancer and who knows what else through his company. As an individual, Mr Balc was polite and
pious, a committed Christian, but he participated willingly – even enthusiastically
– in a system which burdened his neighbors with disease and degraded the
environment, the portion of God’s creation, surrounding his plant. Here in Bridesburg, here at Emanuel Church,
with the former Honeywell/now Advansix plant in our back yard, I think we can
relate. Over the past 100 years, Bridesburg has been
home to Rohm and Haas and other chemical manufacturers. I’m told that these companies did a great
deal for their workers, and of course the jobs they offered were the backbone
of this neighborhood for decades. And
yet this neighborhood has cancer levels far exceeding that of many other parts
of the city….the dark side of these companies’ legacy lives on, bringing
illness and death to our friends and neighbors. There are other examples – every Sunday we
pray for peace, but every day our taxes fund war. Here at Emanuel Church we try with varying
levels of faithfulness to welcome all comers, and yet we participate in a
society that isn’t always so welcoming, that wants to put up a sign on our door
saying “no vacancy”, “no room in the inn”. In his prayer, Solomon invited foreigners to
pray at his Temple, but our country has different ideas. Here at Emanuel Church, we’re an island of
welcome, a small candle shining our flickering light of hospitality against the
hurricane-strength winds of inhospitality prevailing in our land. Keeping our small candle lit, in the face of
hurricane-strength winds trying to blow it out, is a monumental task, a
herculean task, and we need to recognize and acknowledge that. We can’t do it alone. We in our own limited strength can’t possibly sustain
the necessary level of commitment over the long haul. We need the life-giving presence of Jesus to
strengthen us, to refresh us, to sustain us – without that, we’ll collapse and
self-destruct, as the pastor in First Reformed does with his excessive drinking. Yes, we will need the full armor of God – the
belt of truth, the breastplate of righteousness, shoes to enable us to carry
the Gospel, the shield of faith, the helmet of salvation, the sword of the
Spirit, which is the word of God. To
quote Isaiah 7:9, “If you do not stand firm in your faith, you will not stand at all.”
Where does God live? We know
that God is present here, and yet not only here. In formal theological language, we believe
that God is both immanent and transcendent.
God is immanent – with us, as our name Emanuel states “God with us” –
the word immanent and our name Emanuel come from the same Hebrew root word, are
related – and yet God is also transcendent – over and above all creation – as
Jeremiah 23:23 states, “Am I only a God who is near, and not a God who is far
away?” God is around us, beside us, and
within us – and the God we worship here at Emanuel Church reflects that of God
within each of us, that of God which comes with us to church every Sunday.
I rarely do this, but I’m sending you forth from this place with a
homework assignment. As you go through
your week, I want you to ask yourself the question I asked myself when I
watched the movie First Reformed, “Where is God in this? Who speaks for God in this situation?” Where is God as you wake up and shower and
dress and prepare for the day? Where is
God in the events of the day, in the people you meet, in the situations you
encounter? Where is God present in your
surroundings, whether you’re here in Bridesburg or some other part of the city,
or, if you’re fortunate, if you’re vacationing down the shore or up in the
mountain? Where is God as you wind down
for the day and prepare for bed. I’m not
talking about looking for the face of Jesus in your piece of French toast
tomorrow morning….but I’m inviting you to be sensitive to the ways God may be
trying to speak to you as you go through your week, not only here in this
place, but wherever you find yourself.
Know that whether you sense God’s presence or not, God is with you.
A quote from Mother Theresa may give us some perspective on how to
search for where God lives: “Seeking the
face of God in everything, everyone, all the time, and his hand in every
happening; This is what it means to be contemplative in the heart of the world.
Seeing and adoring the presence of Jesus, especially in the lowly appearance of
bread, and in the distressing disguise of the poor.”
And here’s a brief poem from Gerard Manley Hopkins tells of how, just
as each creature and object in nature proclaims its essence in what it does, we
proclaim God’s presence – or absence – through our actions:
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AS kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies dráw fláme;
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As tumbled over rim in roundy
wells
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Stones ring; like each tucked
string tells, each hung bell’s
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Bow swung finds tongue to fling
out broad its name;
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Each mortal thing does one thing
and the same:
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Deals out that being indoors each
one dwells;
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Selves—goes itself; myself
it speaks and spells,
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Crying Whát I do is me: for
that I came.
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Í say móre: the just man justices;
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Kéeps gráce: thát keeps all his
goings graces;
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Acts in God’s eye what in God’s
eye he is—
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Chríst—for Christ plays in ten
thousand places,
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Lovely in limbs, and lovely in
eyes not his
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To the Father through the features
of men’s faces.[1]
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So as we begin a new week, may our eyes be open to the many places in
which God lives, the many ways in which God is present with us. May we have eyes to see Christ playing in ten
thousand places, lovely in limbs, and lovely in our eyes and those of our neighbors. As God
makes his home among us, God with us, may we find our home, and feel at home,
in God. Amen.
[1]
Gerard Manley Hopkins, “As Kingfishers Catch Fire,” https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44389/as-kingfishers-catch-fire
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