Sunday, September 22, 2013

Sermon from Sunday, September 22, 2013


Season:                Creation, Sunday 3 (Sept 22, 2013)
Scripture:           Genesis 13:-18; Matthew 5:5
Sermon:              Walk Lightly on Me (Gratitude or Entitlement)
 
I think my dad was grateful.  I think gratitude was one of the fundamental attitudes of his soul that helped shape his behaviour in the world.
 
He worked hard for everything he had in life -- a home and family, a place in the community and, at the end, a place in the church.  He earned and deserved to enjoy whatever good he had in life.  He would say you need to work for what you want.
 
But he knew also that no matter how hard you work and what you build up, everything can be lost in a second.  His first experience of life was his family’s panicked and frantic flight for life.  When he was only a few months old his family -- German farm-workers in Russia, found themselves without warning having to leave all they had and flee in the night to escape the murderous, anti-alien zeal of the Revolutionary forces.
 
For ten years they made a go of it in Germany but in 1929 felt they had to do it again -- leave behind all they had started to build up, to come to Canada and new opportunity here.  Soon after they arrived, opportunity became scarce and as the newest, non-English immigrants they were often the first to suffer deprivation wherever they were. 
 
Fifteen or twenty years later, married and on the way to being established, working at what turned out to be his life-long job, because of a moment’s mental lapse my father suffered a workplace accident that could have ended his working days.  It’s surprising it didn’t.  He knew how close he came to once again losing it all.
 
I think all these experiences made my father grateful for everything he had, including the opportunity and good fortune to be able to work for what he enjoyed.  He knew he was luckier than many.  He knew that what he worked hard for, was also undeserved gift from a power greater than himself.
 
I think about this because I grew up with more of a sense of entitlement.  Because my father and mother worked hard to provide whatever I and my sisters really needed, I think I grew up assuming that whatever I need will always somehow appear, that I will always be blessed, and that when I see something I want, as long as it’s in reach I should take it.
 
This might be called faith -- faith in God and God’s good will for my life, faith in the ultimate goodness of the world and of life.  And I’ve no doubt there’s truth to that.
 
But it is also a spirit of entitlement -- and maybe entitlement is just one of the shadow sides of faith -- the belief that I deserve not to go without, that what comes to me as gift is meant to mine, that because I am me and God loves me and I am worthy or good or needy or faithful or something enough, I can count on God giving me what I want and need -- that all the promises are for me -- and if others try to take it from me, or they don’t get what they want themselves, there must be something wrong with them.  
 
The spirit of entitlement is probably one of the seven deadly sins or evil spirits of modern society.  And like any deadly sin, it’s hard not to slip into it when we live a privileged life.  We imagine all the promises of God and all the blessings of Earth are just for us.  It’s hard not to nurture this spirit in the hearts of those we provide for so well.  It takes vigilance and courage to live free of it.
 
In the story this morning, Lot is a man moved by the spirit of entitlement.  
 
He’s nephew to Abram and he’s travelled with Abram all the way from Haran on the quest for the promised land.  Lot hasn’t had the conversations with Yahweh that Abram has, but he’s heard of the promise of a land and of descendants as numerous as the grains of sand at the seashore, and of being chosen to be a blessing for all the world.  Lot feels pretty special to be part of this and he knows his lot in life is good; it’s ordained by God to be so.
 
So when he and his uncle come back from Abram’s misadventure in Egypt to the valley of Bethel and Ai, he is more than happy to spread out and make himself at home.  This surely must be the promise of God coming true, the blessing of God on him and through him for all the earth.  It’s his destiny and he is more than happy to claim it and start living it out.
 
And when strife develops -- when it comes to be that he and Abram are so blessed that their herds and flocks and shepherds start getting in each other’s way and fighting for space and for the resources that are there, Lot is more than happy -- given the chance, to choose for himself the better part of the valley -- the larger and greener portion, the more fertile and richer section, the part that already is so rich and developed that it even boasts a few cities -- the enticing and interesting cities of Sodom and Gomorrah.  It seems a good choice, and Lot is more than happy to imagine that the free choice Abram gives him is a sign that now is his time, he is meant to be on the rise, and dominance and privilege are his birthright -- are God’s promise and good will for him.  He is a man seemingly full of faith in God’s good will towards him -- or at least full of faith’s shadow-side.
 
Abram, on the other hand, maybe knows what faith really is.  He knows there is no good reason God chose him for the journey he is on.  He knows the promise and the blessing are gifts, not rewards.  He also knows most recently from his little misadventure in Egypt that he is and always will be unworthy, prone to making mistakes, taking wrong turns, having to confess and change his ways, and be rescued from himself.  He may wonder why on earth he’s still part of God’s great adventure of creating a people. 
 
So when there’s a choice to be made between grasping or letting go, trusting himself to be in charge or trusting God, he lets go and lets God.  He gives Lot the choice, and accepts what Lot chooses.  He’s like a minority voice at a meeting who when the vote is counted and the meeting is over, accepts and adopts the majority view as the way to go and to support.  Even though he has come to know himself as God’s special and chosen one, what this means is that it’s God and not him who is in charge.
 
I wonder what it would be like if in every situation of strife those who count themselves as God’s servants, took this approach?  When white Europeans brought Christianity and Western culture to North America, was it Abram’s or Lot’s version of the covenant with God that we brought with us and acted out and institutionalized in our history?  When second-and-third-and-even-more-generation Canadians look at a newly multi-racial, multi-ethnic, multi-religious Canada, do we see it with the eyes and heart of Abram, open to what shall be, or with the eyes and heart of Lot, assuming we are meant to be in charge and dominant?  When we look at the strife that we are increasingly aware of now between us and other species -- between humanity and plants and animals -- and even clean water and air, all wanting their right-to-be in increasingly tight and limited space, in the way we work it out do we prove ourselves to be children of Abram or children of Lot?
 
We know how the story ends, of course.  Even as Lot is making his choice to be master of the domain and to be in control of the better part just because he’s entitled to be, we see the shadows that start to fall across his way.  It’s the shadow of Sodom and Gomorrah which seem to be places of promise, but which we know already are doomed by their sin.  It’s a future Lot doesn’t see yet, but it’s the one he is choosing.  It’s the destiny and birthright of all who live by a spirit of entitlement.
 
And Abram?  As he goes off to his lesser portion and his more humble place, God consoles him -- repeating the promise of a land God will give him, of the numberless descendants God will cause to flow from him, and of the blessing God will make him to be for all the earth.  God tells him nothing really is changed -- all is still gift and because Abram knows this and lives this out in such a radically non-possessive, non-demanding, non-controlling -- in other words humble and yielding way, Abram remains the beloved servant of God that God calls him to be.
 
I wonder what it might mean today for us to let go of entitlement, and to live happily in the same kind of grateful trust and real faith in God whose good will for all life is greater than just us and our own needs?

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