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One
of my better friends in the ministry is an African-American
colleague (about my age) who once served a congregation that
took pride in being as social as it was spiritual. In other
words, they knew how to pray. But they also knew how to party.
And they invited my friend (their pastor) to many of their
parties. But while they expected him to show, they didn’t
expect him to stay. Nor did they want him to stay. Just as he
would relax and begin to feel comfortable, his hostess would
say: “Thanks, ever so much, for coming, Reverend. But in a
church like ours, with a schedule like yours, I know you have
more pressing things you need to be doing. And we wouldn’t
want to keep you from God’s important work.” Were he to
protest that nothing more important was calling him elsewhere,
it might appear as if he were shirking God’s work. So he
accepted the gracious manner in which they helped him with his
hat and coat. And off he went, figuring that the party he
really wanted to attend was the party that was just beginning
as he left.
Or,
as he later reflected: “They always wanted me to stop by and
bless the house. But they hoped I wouldn’t linger, lest my
presence douse the house.”
Clergy
are nice people….really nice people. Although some are
better at projecting their warmth professionally than
personally. Meaning that in social situations….removed from
the comfort provided by robe, role or ritual….they can be a
bit “reserved.” Which can be read as “distant.” And
can give the impression of “dour.” Which, I suppose, can
put a “damper” on things (as long as we’re sticking with
words that begin with the letter D).
I
hate it when clergy confirm such low expectations by looking
the part. In one of those mix-and-mingle sessions in
somebody’s living room….where you are supposed to
circulate widely, meet everybody, and say nothing of substance
to anybody….a fellow pointed to another chap who had just
left our little group and asked if I knew him. After telling
him I did, he asked: “Has he been sick?” “Not that I
know of,” I said. So he asked me if I knew what he did for a
living. “Yes,” I said, “he’s a Methodist minister.”
“Oh,” he responded, “I guess that explains it.”
One
of the criticisms leveled against Jesus….more than once,
mind you….was that he didn’t appear to be sufficiently
serious. And that his friends didn’t appear to be
sufficiently serious, either. Mary Dahl, one of our members,
wants us to find a picture of a laughing Jesus and hang it in
our new Christian Life Center. Which has some merit. But as I
mulled it over, I thought: “Maybe we could let our
imaginations wander further and commission a picture of Jesus
and his disciples, not only laughing, but
recreating….playing some kind of game, as it were.” Even
monks in an abbey (who pray regularly, multiple times a day)
have been known to take a break and kick a soccer ball around.
Trust me, I’ve seen them. So maybe we could commission Leroy
Neimann to give us a painting (in colorful acrylics) of Jesus
and the disciples playing pick-up basketball. Leading me to
wonder, would Jesus play point, pivot or power forward? And
would the team that had Jesus be the shirts or the skins?
If
the image of a basketball-playing Jesus surprises you, then
you can understand how other activities of Jesus and his
disciples surprised people in his day….especially as we find
such surprises revealed in the second chapter of Mark. Take
note of where we are. Mark has just finished telling us how
the disciples were called. And within a paragraph, they are in
trouble. All of the accusations involve food. ‘Tis said they
are:
Eating
with the wrong people….tax collectors and sinners (2:15-17)
Eating on the wrong schedule….failing to observe the fast (2:18-22)
Eating on the wrong day….plucking grain on the Sabbath (2:23-28)
Stick,
for a moment, with the fasting issue. Critics say to Jesus:
“Look, John the Baptist has disciples and they fast. The
Pharisees (whose devotion to the traditions of our elders keep
us from forgetting who we are), they fast. But your friends
never skip a meal. Tell us why that is.”
Now
we need to slow down for a minute to gather some information.
Like, what is fasting? And how often were Jews supposed to do
it? Concerning the first question, fasting involves abstaining
from all food….or certain foods….for a pre-determined
period of time. This is done in order to accomplish certain
physical, moral or spiritual ends. It’s more than not
eating. It’s “not eating” with a purpose.
Although
it strains the definition, I know people who fast in order to
lose weight. But I know other people who fast in order to gain
insight. A third group fasts to identify with the poor and the
hungry….some of whom also devote the money saved (by not
eating) to the poor and the hungry. While lesser numbers fast
to practice self discipline, to identify with the sufferings
of Jesus, or (in rare instances) to achieve altered states of
consciousness. Insofar as fasting goes, I do understand
it….could likely benefit from it….but, in my first 63
years of life, can’t say that I have ever practiced it.
Contrary
to what you may have heard, regular fasting was not compulsory
for first century Jews then, nor is it now. Stricter Jews
adopted it voluntarily. But only one day of fasting (per year)
was mandatory….that being the Day of Atonement at the
beginning of autumn’s high holy days.
In
Jesus’ day, devout Jews fasted once a week. When the
Pharisee (in the parable of the Pharisee and the Publican)
prayerfully suggests that he fasts twice a week, he is
bragging more than he is praying. The issue is spiritual
pride, not religious practice. But even twice-weekly fasts
were not all that taxing, given that they lasted only from
6:00 a.m. to 6:00 p.m., after which normal foods could be
eaten.
But
the critics of Jesus in this little story care little about
specifics. They have but one question (relative to fasting):
“If everybody who’s anybody in the Jewish community does
it, why don’t your disciples do it?” To which Jesus says:
“Hey, nobody fasts while the bridegroom is with them.”
Which
is a wonderful word-picture, don’t you see. You’re not
supposed to take it literally. Jesus is not saying: “I am
about to get married.” There’s no bride in the story….no
band in the story….nobody’s wearing a tux in the
story….or a long white dress in the story.
Instead,
Jesus is pointing to something they already know….that even
the strictest, law-abiding Jews are not required to fast
during the time of a wedding. Which was a long respite by
today’s standards. Consider. After a Jewish wedding, the
couple did not go away for a honeymoon. Instead, they stayed
at home. For a week….sometimes two weeks….an open house
was kept and there was continual feasting and rejoicing. In a
hard life, the wedding week was often the happiest time in a
couple’s life. Which explains the rabbinic ruling that
“any in attendance at a wedding are relieved of all
religious observances which would lessen their joy.”
In
Jesus’ day, wedding guests were called “children of the
bridechamber.” So, to his critics, Jesus was calling his
disciples “children of the bridechamber,” as if to say:
“I am here. They are with me. It’s like a wedding. So
lighten up.”
In
this day and age, you could ride that horse too far. But I
think you are obligated to saddle it, mount it and ride it a
little. Life in the Lord is not only the good life, but the
glad life. As I said last Sunday, if Christmas means that the
world is an acceptable address for the Almighty, then it also
means that joy is an acceptable emotion, and that celebration
is an acceptable response to the presence of the Almighty. Not
required. But accepted.
As
I said in Steeple Notes, the very first sermon I ever preached
(in the chapel of Yale Divinity School) was entitled “The
Capacity to Celebrate.” Which manuscript I can’t find. And
whose points I can’t remember. But the fact that it was my
first sermon tells me something. In fact, it speaks volumes
about my life. For, in those years, I lacked the very capacity
of which I spoke. I grew up comfortable, but cautious.
Emotionally speaking, living in my family meant that you were
continually looking over your shoulder. Things might be all
right now….even good now…. but no way were they likely to
stay that way. In our family, we always waited for the other
shoe to drop, because the floor was already littered with
shoes that had fallen previously. And if Kool and the Gang had
been around to suggest that I should “celebrate good times,
come on,” I would have said: “No, that’s when I had to
be more wary than other times.” For, in my family, we
distrusted good times.
And
instinctively, when I preached that sermon, I knew that this
was where I needed to grow in my walk with Christ….that
Christian maturity needed to loosen me up, not button me
down….and that if I was ever going to experience what I
Peter 1:8 refers to as “joy unspeakable,” I had a long way
to go (and probably better begin preaching about it right
now).
But
many of you are going to read something else into my choice of
title and text this morning. And you’re probably right. As
you know from hints I have dropped over the last couple of
weeks, my daughter recently became engaged and, this morning,
the bridegroom is very much with us. Her name is Julie. His
name is Jared. And we (her mother and I) are very much going
to enjoy this wedding and everything leading up to it.
Speaking
as one who (1600 weddings later) knows more about them than
anybody except Martha Stewart, I am surprised by how many
people don’t enjoy them….or steadfastly refuse to let
themselves enjoy them. And Kris and I have no intention of
joining those people. We are very much “with” the program.
But, even if we weren’t, we would get with the
program….not for the love of the program, but for the love
of the people in the program.
I
think love ought to be lifted up. I also think love ought to
be honored, enjoyed, danced to, and even toasted. Which is why
engagements, weddings, anniversaries, baptisms and birthdays
are not only ceremonial, but celebrative. Three weeks ago, I
did a wonderful 50th anniversary reconsecration right here in
the chancel. The couple stood right over there. And the choir
loft was filled with their kids….the spouses their kids
married….and a slew of grandkids, as well. It was a nice
setting, having all the guests in the choir loft. We didn’t
put robes on them and make them sing. But they had great
seats. And when my ceremony was finished, they took about
248,000 pictures.
Fifty
years earlier (to the day), they ran off with a pair of
friends. Leaving Syracuse University, they slipped over to a
nearby town, where a kindly Methodist minister performed the
nuptials. They didn’t need to do this because of a baby
coming, but because of parents disapproving. Then they came
back to school and told nobody. When Christmas came, they went
to their respective homes, again telling nobody. Their
strategy made sense at the time. But it didn’t feel right at
the time. Not “right” as in “correct,” but “right”
as in “complete.” So, fifty years later, we did it up
right….the way it should have been done the first time
around. All of which was followed by a big dinner at a nice
restaurant. Which probably cost a bundle. But which, in
another way, was priceless.
Every
time I hear someone say “We can give you a wedding or we can
give you a down payment on a house,” I understand the logic.
But I cringe at the forced choice. Because, in a world where
many of us have far too many things, some of us have far too
few memories.
Just
the other day, Bob Kupfer (Tim Robinson’s partner at Tiffany
Florist) was talking about an older couple in his extended
family who created a rather unusual trust as a part of their
will. The purpose of the trust is to provide opportunities for
their far-flung family to come together for special
occasions….a dinner….a party….a vacation trip….a
cruise. I don’t know how the language is drawn. But the
intent intrigues me. Will it be difficult to pull off? Sure.
Will there occasionally be family members who say: “Don’t
want to go….don’t need to go….can’t make the time to
go….so give me my share of the cost in cash”? Sure. But
it’s worth the effort. I have watched and learned from
several of you. And I know how much joy you derive….and how
much good you do….providing such experiences for your
families. It’s a rather admirable way of converting cash
into closeness.
*
* * * *
There
is, to be sure, a “rainy day addendum” to our little text.
To his critics, Jesus says: “The day will come when the
bridegroom will be taken away. Then my friends will fast.”
Is this an early suggestion of crucifixion? If so, did Jesus
say it? Or did the early church add it? Frankly, nobody knows
for sure. Least of all me.
But
there is one thing I know. All of us live with a shadow
hanging over us. Darkness. Death. Disease. Defeat.
Discouragement. Disappointment. Even the post-celebratory
resumption of ordinary life. Or, as I once said at a wedding,
marriage is more about macaroni and cheese than it is about
merlot and mignon. Which means that other days will call for
other emotions….other responses….other behaviors.
Life
will cloud up and rain on our parades. But does that mean we
should never schedule any? Parades, I mean.
I
have a friend who is fond of saying: “Any excuse for a
party.” If I read this text correctly, being a Christian may
be the best excuse of all.
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