 Dr. William A. Ritter Senior Minister |
Tied
to be Fit
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Like a lot of elemental life-forms, sermons evolve. Meaning that the way they start out is not always the way they finish up. Take this one, for example. Some weeks ago, I looked at the calendar, saw the date of Sunday, February 11, and noted its proximity to Valentine's Day. In other years ... on corresponding Sundays ... I have talked about love, marriage, commitment, fidelity ... things like that. One year, I even preached a sermon on romance. It was the only sermon I have ever seen on the subject. Look for it in the archives under the title "Whatever Happened to Moonlight and Roses?" So I penciled in a sermon on love and its joys, telling Janet to title this morning's enterprise "The Pleasure Bond." Then, while preparing last Sunday's message on "reverence" (inspired, as it was, by the appearance of Scout Sunday on the calendar), I got to thinking about knots and the people who tie them. I thought about the many I tied for my merit badge. Then I thought about the one I tied for my marriage badge. Suddenly, the sermon title became "Fit to be Tied." Which led me to recall the wedding homilies I have heard other clergy deliver on the biblical image of the three-strand cord. So I found the text ... went to work on the text ... wrestled mightily with the text ... fell just a little in love with the text ... only to discover (two days ago) that my title no longer went with the text. So I invite you to scrap it. Instead of "Fit to be Tied," toss the words up in the air so that they come down reading "Tied to be Fit." For that's what the text says. It says that two will be better than one ... three, better than two ... and multiply-braided cords, stronger than cords of a single braid. It says that a certain "fitness" will follow when one becomes two ... singular becomes plural ... and soloists decide to become halves of a duet (or thirds of a trio). Listen to the text, which begins with the blunt assertion that "two are better than one," and concludes with the oft-quoted aphorism that "a three-fold cord is not quickly broken." Where do we read it? In the book of Ecclesiastes, that's where we read it. And when can we date it? Relatively late in Old Testament history (about 300 BC), that's when we can date it. And who wrote it? Darned if anyone knows. All we know for sure is that King Solomon didn't write it, even though the first few words of the first chapter of Ecclesiastes suggest that he did. Trust me, he didn't. As I have suggested to you before, the book of Ecclesiastes is a strange collection of stuff ... always realistic ... seldom optimistic ... occasionally pessimistic ... and (for those chemically or temperamentally tilted toward the blues) more than a little depressing. Yet I, for one, like its emphasis on extracting life's sweetness wherever one happens to find it. I once said so in a Thanksgiving sermon entitled "Eat Your Bread in Gladness; Drink Your Wine in Joy." That's Ecclesiastes, too, no matter how many balloons of puffery, pride and piety he punctures before he gets there. Ecclesiastes never ventures very far from the idea that life is a tough proposition. But he says it is even tougher for those who go it alone. This leads to his statement that "two are better than one." Which sounds nice when you read it at a wedding. But the author didn't write it for a wedding. And there is no evidence he had marriage in mind when he put pen to parchment in the first place. So who are the "two" that he has in mind? Scholars speculate. I've read several. Few agree. The "two" could be two friends, two siblings, two co-workers, two countrymen, or two of anything. The language is pretty generic. He is talking about the advantages of pairing up ... teaming up ... matching up. But since his language does not exclude marriage ... and since there is this not-so-veiled reference to keeping warm by lying down together ... I am going to "hunch" that marriage is at least in the back of his mind, in order to move it (for the next few minutes) to the front of mine. "Two are better than one." I'll buy that, even though I face a danger in saying that. For I am speaking to a whole lot of "ones" this morning ... some of whom have never been "twos" ... some of whom used to be "twos" ... .some of whom would give their eye teeth to be "twos" ... and some of whom have no intent (whatsoever) of becoming "twos." And I am also speaking to some "twos" who secretly (or not so secretly) harbor a strong desire to be "ones," figuring that "two" is not nearly what it is cracked up to be if it means being "two with you." If any of that fits you, let me tell you that I hear you ... I believe you ... I feel with you ... and (to the degree you have any interest in talking about it further) I'll be there for you. I am very much aware that "one is a whole number." And I believe (with all my heart) that the sanctuary ought to be one of those places where it is perfectly acceptable to say to the head waiter upon entering: "Pew for one, please." But I have this text to deal with, including my belief that there is truth to be gleaned from it ... if I am clever enough to find it ... bold enough to say it ... and you are open enough to hear it. "Two are better than one," the author says. Why, you ask? Four reasons, he answers. First, "two are better than one" because they have a good return for their work. I suspect that this is reflective of an agricultural era ... when one extra body meant two extra hands, therefore doubling the amount that could be planted and picked, served or sold. I remember what people used to say about junior high boys (that one boy is one boy ... two boys is half a boy ... and three boys is no boy at all). But this is not generally true of adults. Two adults tend to work harder and produce more. One of the delightful things we are learning in today's marital culture is that it doesn't really matter who does what work ... only that shared work feels better and yields more. Here, let me take a moment and talk about work that is done alongside my work (right alongside my work). Twenty-five years ago, it became increasingly fashionable for persons married to clergy to differentiate themselves sharply from the work of clergy. "We are clergy spouses," they said. "We are not clergy assistants. Therefore, do not expect us to play the piano ... run the programs nobody else wants to run ... teach the classes nobody else wants to teach ... or sweep the corners nobody else wants to sweep. Congregations are not paying for two. Therefore, congregations have no right to require (or expect) the work of two." Which, as a speech, was perhaps long overdue and much in need of being said. But speaking only for myself, I cannot tell you what a blessing it has been to be married to someone who believes that churches are good places to be ... that church people are good people to be with ... that the ministry is a calling that spills over and embraces both sides of a marriage ... and that there are tasks within the ministry that not only suit her gifts, but that she can and does do (willingly, graciously and more productively than anybody has reason to expect or require). Her own career notwithstanding, our "two" has been far better than my "one." And, as a congregation, you have received an incredible return from our mutuality of effort. But there are other kinds of returns for the "good work of two" ... returns not necessarily measurable in field or marketplace. I am talking about returns related to the raising of children and preparing them for marriages of their own. We know ... and the documentation gets stronger by the day ... that intact marriages will produce children who get grades that are higher, suffer arrests that are fewer, and from addictions and pregnancies will remain freer ... than kids from marriages that do not remain intact (or marriages that never were in the first place). To be sure, there are exceptions to every rule. And there are some incredible parenting jobs being done solo (or across the great divorce divide). But everything I read (along with everything I see) tells me that there are measurable payoffs for kids who grow up in marriages that remain stable. And those payoffs continue into succeeding generations. Were you to ask what single measurable factor will increase the likelihood that your children will have long-lasting marriages, it is not their age ... not their job ... not their wealth ... not their level of education prior to marrying ... but whether they came to matrimony from parental marriages that have endured. Talking with a woman whose primary complaint about her husband was that "there's just nothing there ... he no longer makes me happy," we talked about the impact a divorce might have on their very-much-minor children. Leading her to say: "Are you suggesting I should stay in an unhappy marriage just for the sake of my kids?" To which I said: "I can't answer for you. But knowing what I know about what works for kids, I think I would." Unfortunately, she never came back to hear my speech about who is responsible for whose happiness. But you've heard it. It is the speech that begins like this:
But that's a digression. The point remains that two are better than one because they produce a better return. You can look it up. Second, they also produce mutual assistance. "If one falls down, he or she can be helped up." That's what Ecclesiastes says, before adding: "Pity the one who falls alone." It's called backstopping. Not back stabbing, but backstopping. And it's hard to live without it. Something gets past you. Or something gets to you. Who backstops you? Who picks you up? I have been on the ground (both because of my stupidity, and because of life's cruelty). And I have been reached for. Although I am running out of time to say more. Third, two are better than one because, "if they lie down together, they will keep warm." "But how can one keep warm alone?" Upon reading this, my first thought was of the time (a few winters back) when the power went off. It was off for several days. More to the point, it was off for several nights. But my second thought concerned the phrase "sleeping together" ... and the fact that kids have no way of understanding how much more there is to "sleeping together" than sex. When you sleep with someone for a long time, you know when something hurts them, haunts them, concerns them and keeps them awake. You know when they have had a bad dream or are having a bad pain. And you also know how incredibly close two people can be in a bed, and how incredibly far apart they can be in the same bed. A man lost his wife not long ago. She suffered a long time before she died ... suffered at home before she died ... suffered alongside her husband before she died. He's done all right since she died. Except at night ... in bed ... where (months after the fact) he wakes up every two hours. Because months (before the fact) she woke up every two hours. And as he heard her then, he hears her still. Fourth, two are better than one because "though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves." Against all kinds of enemies. Including temptation. Except for the first night, I have not been watching the comings and strayings on Temptation Island. But I have been having Janet download the plot summaries from the Internet so that I know everything that has been happening as we head into this, the final tell-all, see-all Wednesday. Most of you know what this is about. There are four couples at a beautiful resort on a tropical island. In spite of previous commitments made to each other, the couples have agreed to be separated and tempted to see if they'll stay or stray. Most of the critics say this is "pure sleaze." But it's more than that. It's incredibly "painful sleaze." Already, people have been hurt. And they will be hurt lots more before this thing is over. Even some of the unattached singles (gorgeous hunks of meat ... male and female meat ... who are there to provide the temptation) have fallen hard for the people they are trying to tempt. Which means that they have gotten bruised (where it doesn't show). Message being: "Even meat feels." Meanwhile, the producers say: "Trust us. We have taken every precaution against unsafe sex." My friends, when will we ever learn that there has never been a prophylactic big enough to cover the entirety of the human heart? In summary, two are better than one ... for work and for warmth ... for assistance and for resistance. Followed by "and a cord of three strands is not quickly broken." Is the third strand God? The author doesn't say. So the scholars don't, either. But I will. Because only when God is factored into the mix does the marriage cease being an end in itself. You meet and you date. You court and you mate. You plan five years out. You plan ten years out. You plan thirty years out (fixed or adjustable). All the while asking: "Are we on track with our plan?" Or pulse-taking ("Do you think we are doing as well as the other couples we know?"). But the key to success may be riding a little looser in the saddle ... looking up as well as in ... asking questions like:
I guess I'm lucky. Or blessed. Maybe both. Drop back with me to Friday night. I am talking about the dance in Fellowship Hall, where we had a great time with a nice mix of kids and adults. There was music by Griffen Tull's band. And there was more music by Tony Kotwicki's recordings. Then the old clock on the wall said that we had reached 9:55 ... five minutes to closing. Teens, gone home. Families, gone home. Most everybody, gone home. A few of us tidying up in order to go home. The hall was dark, save for those little prism lights swirling on the floor. Tony was still spinning CDs. Slow stuff, now. Soft stuff, now. Mellow stuff, now. As the kids might have said: "Geezer music." There were just a few of us on the floor (Glicks, Quaintons, Chrosteks, Breedloves, Marinaros and Ritters). Along with Anne Murray, the Canadian contralto who was crooning something a little bit this side of country. It took a while to translate the rhythm from head to feet. What it was, was a waltz (one two three ... one two three ... one two three). Suddenly the feet remembered. It felt goodly and godly. And it also felt romantic ... after 35 years, can you believe it? Dancing in church, no less. But what was Annie singing that made it all so special? Could
I have this dance for the rest of my life?
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