Sermon:
September 20, 1998

Scripture:
Hosea 1:2-8
Hosea 2:1-4
Hosea 2:14-16
Luke 11:5-13

Given the recent "rush to confession" by public figures of all types and stripes, I suppose it is high time for me to acknowledge that I have placed the same wedding ring on the hands of several different women. I am talking about this ring ... my ring ... which, as late as last Friday evening, was off my finger and on the finger of another. Which does not make me a bigamist ... or a serial monogamist ... but simply a quick thinking (and even quicker acting) preacher.

The explanation is really quite simple. When you marry as many people as I do, sometimes you need to come to their rescue. Like when the maid of honor or the best man forgets the ring, can't find the ring, or drops the ring between the back of the church and the front of the church. I know that sounds stupid. But nervous people do stupid things. And my job is to minimize the effects of the problem. Which I accomplish by removing my ring and giving it to whoever needs one. It works every time. And I've gotten it back every time. So far.

As confessions go, I realize that the one I just made is small potatoes. But I really can't produce anything that could be published under the heading of "spicy and salacious." So if you read today's title and came to hear about my marital problems, I'll have to disappoint. And if you read today's title and came to hear about the Clinton's marital problems, I'll have to disappoint further. As concerns mine, there's really nothing to talk about. And as concerns Bill and Hillary ... well ... I'm not on the list of high profile clergy types (like Jesse Jackson and Tony Campolo) summoned to the White House for intimate pastoral conversation. Not that I'd tell you if I were.

Instead, I rise to talk about Hosea's marital problems which (as you will see in a moment) were even more painful and public than Sweet William's. And you will have to take my word for it that I picked this morning's subject, date and title, at least 30 days before the Starr Report became public. Perhaps I was being prophetic. Which Hosea certainly was.

For he was a prophet ... in Israel ... in the 8^th century BC. Next to Elijah, Hosea is my favorite prophet. For he called it as he saw it ... he told it as he lived it ... and he was not at all bashful about his belief that God was deeply enmeshed in both the telling and the living.

But first we need to back up and remind ourselves of why prophets arose in Israel in the first place. Which can be explained by the fact that there was a covenant in Israel in the first place. The covenant was between God and the people. But the people kept forgetting it ... and breaking it. The covenant was not unlike a deal (of sorts), wherein God said: "Look, here's what I am going to do for you. I am going to rescue you from bondage. I am going to lead you where you need to go. I am going to help you settle and structure your life once you get there. And I am going to see to it that your children prosper and multiply from generation to generation." Then God added: "Your part of the deal is to believe and behave" (which is biblical shorthand for saying: "Honor my claim and obey my law.").

Mark Trotter points out that the contribution of the Hebrew prophets was enormous. For it was the prophets who first defined man's relationship to God by moral acts (such as ethical conduct), rather than by religious acts (such as sacrificial offerings). Recall Hosea's 8^th century contemporary ... the prophet Amos ... who thundered: "I hate, I despise your feasts. I take no delight in your solemn assemblies. But let justice roll down like waters and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream."

Which explains why the prophets were always trying to get people to repent and clean up their acts. Which probably wasn't any more popular then than now. Most of us don't like the word "repentance." Because saying "I'm sorry" ... meaning "I'm sorry" ... and turning away from the acts that forced the "I'm sorry" in the first place, are not things that are fun to do. But what repentance means is that life can be better than it is now, and there are things we can do ... and should do ... to make it better.

Most other Middle Eastern religions (at the time of the prophets) did not take history or morality seriously. They did not believe that human beings could influence things for the better (by acting better), or for the worse (by acting worse). They were nature religions. God was the God of nature, not the God of history. Things that were important in nature religions were the rhythms of the seasons and the cycles of sun and moon, seed time and harvest, fertility and infertility, along with deluge and drought. And since human beings couldn't do much about any of that stuff ... I mean, who could make it rain if it hadn't rained in weeks? ... it was assumed in the "nature religions" that only God could improve things. So if you needed rain ... if you needed a good harvest ... if you needed fertile fields ... then you made sacrifices to God. You offered God grain, meat and (in some cases) even children. But then God spoke through his prophets and said: "I hate and despise your sacrifices. Stop offering me these dumb things and start doing the things I tell you to do, and you'll see how much better things will get in your world."

It was a hard message. And a blunt message. But it was also a moderately hopeful message. For in castigating the people for bad choices...and urging them toward good choices ... the prophets were saying that choice makes a difference. Meaning, by implication, that we can make a difference. It's not just the moon and the stars. It's us. So the prophets said: "Shape up, lest there be consequences to your behavior that you won't want to live with. Which there will be. And it will be your own damn fault."

Which was, in a nutshell, the prophetic message in Israel. At least it was the prophetic message before Hosea. Prior to Hosea, the covenant (the "deal" between God and his people) was pretty much like a contract. If one party violated it, it was off (as in void ... finished ... flushed ... done deal). The offended party (God) could take his marbles and go home. But to Hosea ... and, subsequently, through Hosea ... came the radically amazing notion that even should Israel break the deal, God would hang in there anyway.

Where did Hosea come up with such an idea? Through his own painful marital experience, that's where. He married an unfaithful woman. There are several interpretations as to how this happened (including the possibility that God told him to marry such a woman). At any rate, her name was Gomer. How's that for a name? I have a good friend in the ministry whose name is Hosea. But I don't have any friends (male or female) named Gomer. Yet that was her name. But that wasn't half of it. For Gomer was a whore. The Bible doesn't sugar coat it. It says so right up front. At one point it says that she "played the whore," meaning that she might not have been a card-carrying hooker. For there was, at that time, a class of vocational prostitutes who hung out in Caananite temples. That way, if you went to the temple to pray for a fertile field, you could involve yourself (ritualistically) with a fertile woman. We don't really know if Gomer was one of these. Maybe she just acted like one of these.

But Hosea married her and she had three children. Chapter One suggests they were Hosea's children. Chapter Two suggests they may have been other men's children. But whether or not Hosea conceived them, we know that Hosea named them. For each name was symbolic. And each name revealed the disintegrating nature of Hosea's marriage to Gomer, while also revealing the disintegrating nature of God's "marriage" to Israel.

The first son, Hosea named Jezreel. This was probably a variation on the name of the nation ("Jezreel" - "Israel"). The second child, a little girl, Hosea named Lo-Ruhamah. This meant: "I will no longer have pity." Then followed a third child, a little boy. And Hosea named him Lo-Ammi, meaning: "You are not my people and I am not your God."

Talk about how tough it is to be a preacher's kid. Look how tough it was to be a prophet's kid. A prophet's kid had to walk around like a billboard, even to the point of being saddled with a name that sounded like a sermon. Imagine Hosea's little boy going to school ... first day ... teacher's calling the roll. "What's your name, little boy?" "My name is `You are not my people and I am not your God.'" I mean, it could turn you into a dropout ... from kindergarten.

I figured that Matt Hook ... lover of scripture that he is ... would give his kids names that sounded like messages from God, once he and Leigh started having children. And when they named their firstborn "Hunter," I said: "Ah, that's from the Cain and Abel story in Genesis 4. I get it." So when Jillianne was born, I figured they'd call her "Gatherer." But they didn't. And then they completely missed the boat with Graham and Joy. Think of the Hosea-like possibilities. They could have called Graham "The Lord's wrath is rising." And they could have named Joy: "You're all headed for Hell in a handbasket." Maybe next time.

At any rate, Gomer (the mother of these kids) was unfaithful to Hosea. She was unfaithful openly. She was unfaithful shamefully. She was unfaithful repeatedly. He pleaded with her. He had the kids plead with her. He exposed and shamed her. He punished and banished her. But he could not completely forget her. Or forsake her. So he pursued her. He wooed her. And then came those beautiful words at the end of the second chapter:

But look, I am going to seduce her
And lead her into the wilderness and speak to her heart.
There I shall give her back her vineyards
And make of the valley of Achor a door of hope.
Then she will respond as when she was young.
And when that day comes, (she) will call me "my husband."

Which sounds as if they are going back to the place of their courtship, doesn't it? Back where love began ... back where promises were made ... back where the future was ripe with hope. Which is what couples do, isn't it ... when trouble comes, and (hopefully) goes. Couples go back to some special place ... where they met ... where they courted ... .where they proposed ... or where they honeymooned. They go back to remember and renew. They go back to start over where they started once. People do it all the time.

But note the identity of the lover in the words I just read. The words of wooing sound like Hosea. But the wooer is God and the wooee is Israel. And the place to which Israel is being drawn (or seduced) is the wilderness, where (once upon a time) it was just God and his people.

What is Hosea saying? Hosea is saying: "If you welsh on the deal (the covenant), you will have to pay the consequences. Which means that you will lose your comfortable life. But you will not lose God. For God will be true to his beloved."

This is one of those "how much more" narratives for which the Bible is famous. For when we read that Hosea stood by ... waited for ... and sought-to-be-one with his wandering woman, the Bible is saying: "How much more will God stand by ... wait for ... and seek-to-be-one with you?"

Which leads us from Old Testament to New, and from prophet to parable. In Luke's little story (11:5-13), a neighbor comes to the door at midnight. Banging on the door, he wakes up the man of the house, crying: "Give me some bread. I've had somebody come to visit me and my cupboard is bare." Which doesn't exactly please the householder who says: "Hey, it's midnight. The kids are asleep. The wife's asleep. I'm asleep. You're waking up half the town. Go away." But the neighbor persists. And the text reads: "Because of the knocker's importunity (which is a five dollar word for `making a pest out of himself'), the householder gets up, comes downstairs, opens the door, and gives him three loaves of Jewish rye. Point being: if a sleeping neighbor will eventually open the door to a boorish pest, how much more will God stand ready to open the door to you?"

And why will God do that? Because that's who God is. And that's what God does. Let me illustrate. I recently became aware of someone who works for the phone company in the area of customer complaints. Hers is a tough job. I wouldn't have it. For she must represent the policies of the company, while attempting to be sympathetic to the predicaments of the customer. One day a lady called, professing grave problems with her phone service. My friend said that while it was a bad problem, it did not fall within the guidelines of things customarily handled by the company. In other words, it was the customer's problem, not hers. But the customer ... a widow ... living alone ... on a fixed income ... persisted.

My friend said: "During the conversation, the lady said something that really got through to me." She said: "I've always loved and respected the phone company. Since I was a little girl coming home to an empty house, my mother always said: `If I'm not home and you ever have a problem, just call the operator at the telephone company and she will help.'"

My friend said: "At that moment a light went on in my brain. For I realized that this was not merely a dispute over money and service, but a discussion about the character of the company. What kind of company were we? Were we still a company that cared ... a company that could be trusted ... and a company that valued a long-term relationship with its customer?" And when my friend reframed the question that way, she figured out a way to solve the caller's problem. Leading me to ask: "How much more will your Heavenly Father do to affirm the long-term relationship He has with you?"

I think you know the answer to that. The Gospel says that God will do anything ... and stop at nothing ... to woo and win this whore-like bride of a church that never tires of finding lovers with which to go asunder. And you know what that means. As does Greg Jones.

Greg Jones is the new Dean of the Divinity School of Duke University. Recently, he attended an Annual Conference of the United Methodist Church. That Conference, like so many church bodies today, was torn apart by the controversies that divide our church and our nation. At the opening session of the Conference, a spotlight was fixed on a stained glass window that was set in a frame on the stage. Shortly after the opening hymn, someone rose from his seat in the auditorium and threw a brick through that window, shattering it into a thousand pieces. Then followed a time of confession with each worshiper confessing his or her own brokenness.

The next night, as they returned to the auditorium for worship, they were given a fragment of that stained glass. During the service there was an offering. Baskets were passed. Everyone was encouraged to put their piece into the basket. The baskets were then taken up to the altar and poured into a metal pan. When the last basket was emptied, a cloth behind the altar dropped, and there was a cross made of pieces of fragmented stained glass.

Like I said ... whatever it takes. That's what God will do. Whatever it takes.

Note: I am deeply indebted to Mark Trotter (First UMC San Diego) for suggestion of theme and for his helpful understanding of the prophetic role in the light of "nature religion." The juxtaposition of the Hosea texts with the story of the neighbor who knocked at midnight was suggested by the common lectionary. Will Willimon (Pulpit Resource) suggested the "how much more" theme, in the light of the story of the lady who worked for the phone company.