A Sermon by The Ven. Richard I. Cluett
Jeremiah 1:4-10 ~
Corinthians 13:1-13 ~
Luke 4:21-30
You can read the bible time and time again, and you can still come across a little time-bomb that God has placed there especially for you on that day, and you find yourself exposed to a whole new perspective about God, the world or, most often, yourself.
The time bomb this week was planted in Jeremiah. “Jeremiah I have need of thee. I need you. I formed you in the womb – for a purpose. I have something for you to do.”
Perhaps the amazing miracle that Scripture reveals to us this week is not that God created everything in the cosmos, or even that God came into human life in Jesus. Maybe even more remarkable than all that is the realization ‘God, the Lord has need of us!” You. Me. Imagine that. And immediately like Jeremiah we think, “Oh Lord, I can’t. I am only – a boy.”
That’s a most terrible phrase, “I am only...” Isn’t that what the world tries so hard to teach us? “You are only… You are only a kid; – a woman; – a teenager; – a secretary; – a clerk; – a freshman; – a mechanic, or for me, you are only – a geezer. But, do fill in your own blank. I know you can. And so we begin to think, “I am - only…”
When I was a very young boy I decided to make my father a Christmas present, a leather wallet. Now I wasn’t going to do that from scratch, There are kits for making wallets. My mother and I went one day to the craft store and bought a wallet kit.
The kit contained several pieces of leather precut for a wallet and pre-punched for binding, with several feet of plastic binding. Making the wallet consisted of knitting the pieces of leather together in the right places in the right sequence with the plastic binding.
I spent hours and hours and hours and hours binding those floppy, slippery leather pieces together – and unbinding the mistakes – and rebinding and rebinding and rebinding. Finally, I had made a wallet.
It was pretty crude. It was lumpy in places. The binding was uneven in places. When it was folded over to go into a pocket, it was about an inch thick – empty! It was pretty crude.
I wrapped it up, put it under the Christmas tree and on Christmas morning with great seriousness and expectation – as well as a good bit of anxiety because I knew that it was crude, not perfect – I handed it to my father, “Merry Christmas, Dad”.
He opened the package and took out the wallet and with only a nano-second of hesitation, his face broke into a huge smile and he uttered words of awe and wonder that his son could have produced such a fine wallet, and how much work it must have taken, and how wonderful it was.
The message was given and the message was received. My crude gift announced to him my love for him and by his response I knew that he had gotten the message, and I got one, too. Love doesn’t have anything to do with perfection. It is pure gift.
Have you ever been invited to a home for dinner and arrived to find exquisite perfection in the decorating of the house, and precise formality of manners in the hosting of the dinner? How about going to a home where the hosting was warm and welcoming and the people and conversation engaging and you knew they were glad that you were there? And you never noticed the décor.
I had a clergy friend who wore baggy suits, needed a better barber, drove an old car - and loved his flock. I remember another who wore fine suits, had impeccable hair, drove a luxury car - and enjoyed looking great.
I remember a college professor I had who was brilliant, but judgmental about which of us were of his attention. I remember another who saw beyond my crude efforts and encouraged my curiosity.
I know of a parish church whose buildings are immaculate, only the loveliest of furnishings and finest of art in its windows. People speak in quiet, hushed tones. I know another parish where there are books and papers on tables and chairs and kids running around and their drawings on the walls to display their unique and wonderful talents and insights – even when they are crude.
I want to show you one of my favorite works of art in the whole world. It has hung on the wall of my office for more than 30 years. It is a mixture of media – some might say, a mess of media – pen and ink, crayon, and watercolor. It demonstrates a free and happy spirit. It’s also a bit crude. But it is a priceless work of art. My son Tyler made it when he was 5 years old.
Jeremiah the prophet was a crude affair. John the Baptist was a crude affair: both men of the wilderness, living off the land, rough in their preaching, treated roughly by the people. The crudeness of their appearance and the roughness of their prophecies provided excuses to marginalize each of them - as we often use appearance to marginalize people in our own day and time.
They served God by doing their answering their call, no matter how crude their efforts. They spoke God’s word to the people with whom they lived, regardless of lumps and uneven bindings.
Believers forever have wanted to see Jesus as perfect, beyond reproach, beyond any normal human failings, his every word a gem, his every step thoroughly planned. But what if Jesus was just a guy who said Yes to God, Yes to God’s purpose for him?
Think about it. What if Jesus really was tempted by Satan at the start? What if he was a bit grandiose in his teaching at Nazareth and stunned by their rejection? What if he learned messiah-ship while living into his Yes? What if he figured out the “suffering servant” role at the end in Gethsemane, and his glory was not in having known everything all along, but in his seeing the cross and saying Yes, responding to God’s love ready or not?
Jeremiah the prophet spoke these words (9:23-24): Thus says the Lord: Do not let the wise boast in their wisdom, do not let the mighty boast in their might, do not let the wealthy boast in their wealth; but let those who boast boast in this, that they know and love me, that I am the Lord; that I act with steadfast love, justice, and righteousness in the earth, for in these things I delight, says the Lord.
What if God sees us as works in progress, too? What if that’s the miracle and our hope? What if this Christian adventure is about crude and imperfect affairs like Jeremiah, John and Jesus – and us, being embraced by a loving God?
What if the center of this Gospel enterprise is indeed the wounded caring for the wounded, the "least of these" loving the "least of these," the fallen raising themselves and others up, not the perfect bowing down to lift up losers, not the experts pretending perfect craftsmanship while scorning the uneven lumpy work of others?
The Incarnation is preceded by crude prophet after crude prophet. It began with birth in a crude stable to marginalized parents, followed by the crude figure of John announcing a miracle by the name of Jesus. It climaxed in the rough wood of the cross amidst the chaotic nattering of crude and confused disciples.
So, maybe the gospel is about love, and not perfection - and maybe, just maybe, we can trust there is room in it for us, for the likes of you and me, and even that God has need of thee and me.
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