Suppose I were to
ask you the question: how do you come to be here? Specifically, how did you end
up living in this community, this city, this neighborhood? Most of your answers would probably boil down
to one of two possibilities. Either you, or someone else in your family chose to live here. Or, you just
ended up here through a random combination of circumstances. Choice or
chance-- to hear most of people tell it-- that’s the story of our lives.
But
what if I were to suggest that ultimately, neither choice nor chance dictated
that you would be here—in this community--sitting in this sanctuary
on this particular Sunday morning? What if I were to suggest to you
that, in fact, you are supposed to be here, meant, to be here,
that God has placed you right here and has both long and
short-term plans, purposes, directions and hopes being worked out in you--
in your life—and in this congregation’s life--here? Now?
In the movie Signs, the main character is a
burned-out, former Episcopal Priest. (He’s played by Mel Gibson, and I’m sure
many congregations might have problems suspending enough disbelief to accept
the premise of a clergyman as good –looking
and as crazy as Mel Gibson—but I’m sure it won’t be a stretch for you
here today)
In any case, at a
certain point in the movie the character’s younger brother asks him for some
words of comfort.
“Suppose there was no such
thing as coincidence?” the ex-clergyman asks. He goes on to tell his younger
brother that there are two kinds of people in this world. Some people can look upon an extraordinary,
inexplicable, frightening occurrence with fear and panic. Because they believe that things happen for
no particular reason, they have no one to turn to. Others can look at the same
occurrence and call it a possible miracle-- knowing that they are not alone and
what-
ever happens they will not have to deal with it
totally on their own.
“So,” he tells his brother, “what
you have to decide, is which kind of person are you? Someone who believes in miracles
or someone who believes in chance?”
This morning we’ve
come to the last chapter of a complicated and beautiful story-- the story of Joseph and his
brothers. We’re slipping as it were,
into the theatre at the last scene of
the last act—just as the curtain’s about to fall. Joseph has now become the director of FEMA,
as well as Secretary of Agriculture for Pharaoh.
Fleeing famine in Canaan , the family of
Jacob has transplanted themselves to Egypt Egypt--
For some
unfathomable Divine reason, this particular family has been taken into
the depths of the very heart of God. They and their descendants will carry into
History the future of God’s Dream--the Divine Plan for the Redemption and
Transformation of this broken, troubled world.
Joseph
has revealed himself to his brothers. But in the midst of their reunion, the
brothers remember all too well what they did to him. And we know the story
too-- from Sunday School, from sermons, even from Broadway.
They
wonder, will Joseph forgive them? Or, remembering their past cruelties to him,
will he seek revenge? For all they know,
Joseph may have become so assimilated with his Egyptian wife and children that
he has practically forgotten where he came from, and didn’t question how he
ended up there. Not until that day when a ragtag family of nomad shepherds and
caravaneers showed up before him, seeking food, desperately seeking survival
for their family-- his family.
Now they kneel before him-- just as he had so long ago dreamed that they would. Now they yearn to hear, not only words of hope, but words of forgiveness as well. Joseph speaks. He tells them:
“Fear not. You meant evil for me, but God meant it for
good, to bring about that many should be kept alive.”
Their attempt to
put the dreamer to death had been used by God to keep them—and keep God’s dream
alive. They meant it for evil-- God used it for good.
People
have loved this concluding story of the book of Genesis for thousands of years, with all its twists and turns and
complications, trials and blessings. If we had the time, I’m sure every one of
us here could tell an equally long and complicated story of our lives, full of
the trials and blessings, twists and turns that have brought us here today.
Maybe a few of us could tell our life stories as honestly
and bluntly as Joseph’s is laid out for us here. But the truth is that when we
look at our lives, especially when we share our lives with others, there’s
always the temptation to indulge in a bit of whitewash and justification and
even self-promotion.
We were all born in
log cabins and walked three miles in the snow to school everyday-- uphill--
both ways. We all grew up in happy homes with wise and compassionate parents
and adoring brothers and sisters. Margaret and Jim and Princess and Bud and
Kitten. Ward and June and Wally and the
Beav. Popcorn by the fire. Presents around the tree. Lassie stretched out on
the floor at our feet.
But
Genesis tells us the story of a real
family-- a family all too familiar to all too many of us. Jacob’s clan is a
family-- like too many of our families-- rife with envy and favoritism, unfairness and cut-throat
competition, deep feelings, of hate and love intermixed, pettiness and rage,
and always with the underlying threat of violence. In some families the only
way to make it out alive and sane is by dreaming of something better, and
holding fast to that dream.
Yet
the story of Joseph is also a story of hope. It’s a story of courage, and of
certainty in the midst of the trials of real life. “You meant it for evil-- God used it for good.” This story of
deadly sibling rivalry and resentment turns out to be as well, the story of the preservation of God’s people—and
the salvation of a human being.
But
there’s even more to this story than that. There’s someone else intimately involved
in it-- the unseen Author of the real plotline, an un-named, deep Presence
working, transforming, dreaming through all their human achievements and mistakes.
That Author is the real hero—off-stage, but visible to those willing to read
between the lines with the eyes of faith.
The
eyes of faith can discern that the dream of God didn’t die back in the pit.
God’s plan cannot be thwarted by the violence of the brothers. The Divine dream
lives on— it is too great to be killed.
Joseph
tells his brothers: “Fear not.
What you meant for evil-- God used for good.” The Divine plan will triumph.
We’re not necessarily told, how, or even when. But the testimony of Scripture
is clear. The witness of History bears
it out. Sooner or later, even if it
takes millennia, all the efforts and fruits of hate and violence and tyranny will
eventually fail. Ultimately, some, day, Good
will win the ultimate triumph over evil. God’s plans will and do
triumph. One day, God’s dream of the final redemption of Creation will
prevail. Gandhi said,
When I
despair, I recall that all throughout history, violence and evil have never
ultimately triumphed. There have been
tyrannies and despots, and they have reigned for a time, but in the end they
have always failed. Think of that. Always.
Many
people think of life on this planet as an unending cycle of violence and pain. They
believe that it’s all a matter of chance. Others think life’s a matter of
choices. Both agree on one thing. Choice or chance--History repeats itself
Life is a crap shoot versus Life is what I
make it. Is there really any difference
between those two bleak possibilities?
Can either of them really give us hope for living?
If it’s all a matter of sheer luck, then why
bother? On the other hand, if it’s all
up to us-- then where do we start? What can we do? Is terrorism, AIDS, weapons
of mass destruction, the rape of the environment, the war on the middle class, Third world
debt, Globalization and the World Economy,
even our next paycheck-- really it all nothing but either chance or
choice? If it’s all up to us, then World History 101 back in High School, or
the evening news will convince us that we’re all doomed and without hope.
No
wonder we’ve become Prozac nation. No
wonder we feel helpless and hopeless. Are those the only alternatives? Chance
or choice?. Woody Allen describes our
cosmic dilemma in this way,
“Humanity stands poised at a crossroads. On the one hand there is the
way to terrible difficulty, trial, and heartache. On the other hand is the way
to total oblivion.”
But
God’s people know there’s another alternative. We know that life is a straight
line, not a meaningless, ever-repeating cycle. We know that history has
a beginning, an end, and a purpose. Just
as our own individual histories have a beginning, an end, and a purpose.
When
you and I look through the eyes of faith, we begin to see the hand of God
everywhere in our world and in our lives. Luther said, “God can shoot with the crooked bow and ride the lame horse.” When
we come to see that God is always beside us—working—through our mistakes as
well as through our tragedies, life becomes so much more than one damned thing
after another.
All
of a sudden, the weight of the world is not riding on our shoulders. All of a
sudden, we don’t have to be perfect in Jesus’ eyes. All of a sudden, our messy,
mixed-up life is filled with meaning and possibility. The future—our future is
open. There is hope. The One who made us is subtly and graciously intruding,
guiding, strengthening—lovingly working to lead us to wholeness and joy.
The
irony is that quite often we won’t be able recognize that’s what’s happened in
our lives—that it was God’s hand—until we look back amazed at how it all
worked out--mostly. Here at the end of his story, Joseph, is able to
look back at all the twists and turns, trials and blessings of his life and
still proclaim:
“Fear not. You meant it for evil-- God
used it for good.”
Now don’t call the
Superintendent up, and tell him that your pastor’s turned into a Calvinist. I’m
not talking about the silly belief that there are no accidents—that
absolutely everything—good or
bad-- happens because God planned it that way.
No, I’m still
batting on the Free-Will team. There are
still too many murderous brothers, too many Holocausts, too many Nine-Elevens, to
believe that everything in this world happens because our Maker wants it that
way.
But I do believe, I
know, there are many, many times in this life when you and I can stop and look at where we are-- and
look ahead toward where we‘re going-- and look back at where we’ve been. And if
we’re wise-- we’ll realize we didn’t get here on our own. We were led. And we are still being led today.
God’s plans do have an amazing Divine flexibility
and resilience. Human beings are still
free to follow and cooperate with the Divine Will for themselves and the
world-- or not. But as I get older, I
see more and more that Our Maker’s purposes for the world and for us cannot
ever be permanently thwarted by our sins and follies.
God has composed—and is composing-- and is constantly
conducting, and performing, and inviting
us to join in a beautiful, eternal symphony. You and I are musicians in this
cosmic orchestra. But God is just as good at playing jazz as classical. And often God finds it necessary to
improvise--sometimes quite a bit-- in order to get back to the original theme
when you and I hit a sour note. But the Divine symphony goes on—beautifully and
awesomely working itself out.
Shakespeare wrote in Hamlet,
“There’s a divinity that shapes our ends. Rough-hew them how we will.”
You
and I may well have taken a meandering path to get here. We may have been
detoured, and even lost for a while—even for quite a while. But somehow or the
other—one day-- to our surprise-- we look around and realize that we’ve ended
up pretty much where God wants us to be—or someplace close, at least. Here.
Now. Today.
We’ll never know--
maybe this wasn’t our original destination at all. Maybe our original intended
path through life got sidetracked by violence, or unexpected tragedy, or
unforeseen circumstances, or the meddling of others, or most likely through sin—our—or
someone else’s headstrong refusal to listen to the Divine call echoing in our
hearts. That’s where free will comes in.
And that too, gets written miraculously into the score.
I have a friend, an
everyday working class sort of guy whose teenaged son committed suicide a
number of years ago. In order to understand and cope with this horrible loss,
Dave and his wife went through counseling, joined support groups, became active
with a new church, got involved with progressive politics, and the men’s
movement.
He became a better
father to his other sons. He’s a kinder, much wiser, more compassionate, more
loving, reflective person. He and his wife made new, life-long friends to whom
they could open their deepest hearts and share their most profound joys. Of
course, he’d trade it all to have his son back.
But my friend Dave
has learned to live with his grief and put aside his guilt. He realizes that he
didn’t cause his son to take his own life. He knows God didn’t will
that his son would hang himself. But what was meant as an act of despair, and
defiance, God used for good.
And then, Dave
became grandfather to a little girl who was able to wrap him around her little
finger from day one. His life is richer
and fuller and deeper. He probably wasn’t originally intended to end up where
he is now. But that’s where he is now.
And you and I are where we are now, too. We’re here. And messy and mixed up as they
are, our lives can become deeper and richer and fuller even in the aftermath of
our pain or loss or sin. Our church can be revitalized. Having a half-time,
semi-retired old guy for a pastor doesn’t have to be the kiss of death for this
congregation—not if you don’t want it to be.
We’ve been led. And so this is where
we’re supposed to be—for now.
And one day If
we’ve been faithful we’ll suddenly see that somehow or other, we’ve been used in the Divine Plan, we’ve
helped keep the dream alive. There’s a
sign in my office (well, it’s packed now), but it reads,
“The
sign of God’s presence is that we will end up where we never expected to be.”
To struggle to live
out God’s Plan— to celebrate and be open to our own place in it-- is to grow in
faith and wisdom. And when we do that—
when you and I start to look beyond yesterday, and forget about
what might have been.
when you and I learn to stop, and be quiet, and listen, and
pray, joining in God’s dream for tomorrow—
when we strive to live for today with integrity, openness, and compassion—accepting that God loves us despite
the messiness and incompleteness of our lives
when we at last seek forgiveness for the wrongs we’ve done,
and try our
utmost to forgive
the wrongs done to us—
when we speak words of reconciliation to those who need to
hear them—
when we finally come to believe and understand that we are not
alone in
the cosmos
and begin to live accordingly—
when we at last look to Jesus as our paradigm, our Savior
and our hope—
and when we start to tell and invite others to rejoice in,
and involve
themselves in
God’s plan for their lives—
then, you and I are
carrying the Divine dream forth into the world—wherever we find ourselves-
God’s here with us.
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