Challenging Complacency

Jeremiah 1: 4-10 “I consecrated you”
Luke 13: 10-21 “Mustard seed and Healing a woman on the sabbath”

This morning's is a sermon, I have not wanted to preach.

Like the Rabbi at the Synaggogue it has seemed there were other times and other places,
through professional counseling, group therapy, medicines, and the Law, Church Law and Criminal where such matters could be resolved, that this time could be set apart as sacred. But as I set out for a few days of respite, news of this story broke, and several asked that we speak to it.

Like Jeremiah, I have tried to protest, this is not our problem, it belongs to another church. Many have blamed the Bishop and Church Government, while others scapegoated the one accused, our own history records that when abuse was named many tried to blame the victims. Yet, we cannot. We cannot blame or scapegoat, and we cannot ignore the word that proclaims: God appointed you, knew you and consecrated you, to pluck up and tear down, to overthrow and destroy, in order to plant and to build.

We cannot hide behind defences that claim this is all their problem, or accuse those in authority for seeking accountability and having zero tollerance; we cannot simply scapegoat those abused, or the one accused of abuse. These circumstances involve people we know, those whom we have trusted, our husbands and wives, priests and fathers, grandfathers and teachers and friends. What we speak to this day, is NOT the guilt or innocence of those accused, not the victimization of those abused. What we are called to name, to pluck out and dismantle before we can ever go on, is our complacency, our acceptance and tollerance of abuse.

We live in an idyllic Village in a small town, where all the houses are meticulously kept, the gardens weeded, the lawns clipped, that nothing ever be seen to be out place. We live in a fragile, carefully constructed bubble; yet, time and again, tragedy and scandal have ripped away at the facade behind the gardens and the freshly painted doors, revealing the demons within the idols of our idyllic homes.
We live in a highly structured, overly scheduled time. So much so, that an eight year old declared, “Mom, we went to Day camp, then Vacation Bible School, Little League Baseball then Scout Camp, Band camp and Soccer camp, and rode in a car to see Grandma and Grandpa; when do we get to have Vacation just to play with our friends?”
FAITH is messy. FAITH does not only exist within rigid schedules and controlled order, but has a way of pervading everything we are about. Accepted and planted as a tiny seed, faith grows to become part of who we are; or is neglected and crowded out by our excuses. In this highly structured, ordered, meticulously kept world of ours: Do we have room for faith?

For those of us Ordained, no alegation or charges could be more serious than an abuse of trust. Because ultimately, faith has no tangible, measureable products. We cannot document effectiveness by the number of new members, or contributions, budgets, missions or programs. While ministers officiate at weddings and baptism and funerals, we are not responsible for the couple falling in love or having a baby, or the person dying. No charges could be more serious because the one truth, the only measure that makes any difference, is our integrity. If our actions and relationships cannot be trusted, how can our word? Mentoring a newly ordained minister a few years ago, I recall describing that everything about faith, whether the gift of the Savior, or the Redemption of the world, is about trust. Human Life is a series of brokenness, violations of trust in our family, in systems, in relationships, in authorities, even and especially our trust in God.

Twenty-five years ago, my wife and I bought a large piece of furniture left over at an auction. Over the years, I added a support here, screwed it together there, replaced a piece of broken glass, covered all the seams and joints with gobs of glue. Still, as you walked by, this antique cabinet would rattle and the objects stored inside tinkle, what I thought of as character, really meant that it had several sags and broken supports. So this week, I took everything out. Dismantled the doors and shelves, unscrewed all the screws that had been added, pried out all the old nails and scarped off all the glue. Only after the entire heirloom and its contents were completely dismantled, could the broken pieces be replaced, and the whole assembled without glue, nails or screws, carefully interlocking, one element braced and supported by another. The Antiques RoadShow may find fault that this board and that were replaced over time, but then again the purpose of a piece of furniture is not to be kept in the original box, but to serve the needs of the family.

The agony we feel as friends, is that the accused and the abused are to us real persons, not a news story, but people we know and trust and love. These are not statistics, not objective characters in another place or time. As such we have made excuses, we defend and protect, feeling guilty that we did not know and perhaps somehow we could have controlled the circumstance, could still make everything nice. We also feel guilt, that seeing something we never saw before, we wonder why and which truth to trust. Secrets only have power as secrets, when plucked the secret's power fades.

A few years ago, when a teenager died having been at a field party, one of the recommendations was that we contract for the Driving program to pick up those that have been drinking so that they not drive...but doing so, we ignore that the Law was broken by Underage Drinking, and we add to this our being complicit, our enabling their violation. We ignore the reasons why our children feel the need to get drunk, and the examples we have set for them. We create ways to placate and fix the circumstance without questioning or challenging or correcting the reality.

Complacency was the sin Jeremiah spent his life prophesying against. The nation had endured 60 years of war. 60 years of constant attack and defense. Finally, that war had ended and the people's initial response was thanksgiving, we survived! But quickly, the people made accomodations to justify their new lives. A new attack was coming from a different nation, a different enemy, and the people were so busy defending their satisfaction of what they wanted having survived, they could not hear the Prophet. Reviewing our records, one of the elders was intrigued by the growth in attendance at worship from 1996 to 2002, but the significant drop in 2003. No amount of program, no relationship, nothing we could do as a church could overcome people's developing complacency after the panic of September 11, 2001 had subsided.

The danger we feel as family, is that in acknowledging abuse, we are not conversing about a social problem, this is our Grandfather, our Father, Husband, the one who married us, our family is broken. If we ignore it and hide the circumstance of brokenness maybe it will go away. The circumstance of an abuse seems less than the reality that we are broken. How can we ever sit at table and share a meal, how can we congratulate this other on another year when we feel they violated us so intimately, not only sexually but because of our absolute trust, how can we trust anyone especially God, when they allowed this, when they did this to us?

Part of the nature of abuse is a misuse of power, narcisistically believing whatever I want I should have. And at the same time, negating the humanity of others, to get what we want. We wound and hurt and kill the humanity of those vulnerable. Nothing could make us more human than our trust in one another, our compassion for those we love and care for, and this violaton, this abuse, this brokenness denies our humanity.

We believe in a system of reform, of repentance and redemption, of forgiveness. But the overwhelming obstacle is not forgiving the other person for eating the last piece of chocolate cake not even forgiving the child for playing with matches, or forgiving the person who broke your heart... but trying to forgive someone who so wanted to validate their desires, that you became a thing less than human. How do you forgive someone who took something so intimate, so personal and who cared so little about you as a person, especially when that person was trusted and loved?

The Gospel of Luke does not give us all the information about this healing. We do not know, if she were hunched over unable to stand upright, because of a problem in her vision that she was afraid with every step she might fall... We do not know if there were a problem with her neck or back or her knees. We do not know why, for eighteen years she could not stand upright, but she could not. In the crowd at the Synaggogue on a Sabbath, she was just one more in need in the masses, even less because in that time women were treated as property, being of less value than a horse or mule or cow. Yet, Jesus had compassion for her humanity, and named her as valued, being a daughter of Abraham and this allowed her to stand upright, to be healed and restored.

Years ago, we began relating stories about a fictitious neighbor named Billy, do you remember? All through the night when others tried to sleep, Billy barked. ARF! ARF! ARF!
But do you recall why Billy Barked? ARF! ARF! ARF! ARF!
Because Billy's Neighbor had a dog that barked when he tried to sleep, and social convention did not allow him to confront his neighbor. He thought it rude to challenge or name how he felt wronged, so he just barked. ARF! ARF! BARK! BARK! ARF! ARF! ARF! ARF! ARF! ARF!
The question we must ask, is where all the rest of the neighbors were? Why no one else barked, or said a word, either to the owner of the barking dog or to Billy about these behaviors? Do we not each have voices, even to bark? (Listen for congregation's barking)

Faith is not simply about reciting the words of the liturgy, or being entertained by the sermon, or the music. Faith pervades our whole life, sometimes with good, sometimes in destructive ways. We sing Doxology every week, not simply as a routine; but rather naming this foundation, this mantra, this core belief on which all the rest of life is constructed. “Praise God from whom all blessings flow. Praise Him all creatures here below; Praise Him above ye heavenly hosts. Praise Father Son and Holy Ghost.” Claiming God to be God, we can claim one another as human, and validate every other part of reality as precious rather than abusive. Doxology is that mustard seed, that tiny idea that is planted in our lives that we are human and therefore in need, in need of God, in need of forgiveness, in need of compassion and healing.

The challenge to complacency is the Call of Jeremiah, to pluck up what is planted, to break down the facade, to destroy and overthrow, in order to build and to plant afresh. The challenge to us as a community is to seek out the lost, the wounded, and to affirm their humanity through love and compassion, forgiveness and trust, trust especially when that trust has been broken.