One For All And All For One
a sermon by Rev. Rebecca Segers
10/03/04
Luke 17:5-10
Lamentations 1:1-6, 3:19-26  

The apostles said to the Lord, “Increase our faith!”  Increase our faith.  How many of us would ask this of the Lord.  “The going is too rough, Lord.  I’ve got too much on my plate.  How could you do this to me?  Increase my faith!” we cry.

What happens before Jesus ’ followers make this request?  They are sitting with Jesus while he teaches and Jesus has told them that they will be tempted, but not to give in.  And when someone else sins against them, they are to forgive seventy times seven times.  The disciples listen to these words and think that they are impossible.  There is simply no way that they can be sinless and also forgive others freely.  They realize that they are weak, that they are human, that they do not have the ability to do this alone.

“Increase our faith,” they say in response.  The disciple’s plea conveys their recognition that faith is both a dynamic process and that one can grow in faith.  They also seem to recognize that faith is not just a matter of their own strength or desire for greater faith.  Help from outside must come for them to be able to do what is requested of them.

The disciples assume they need more faith, but Jesus ’ answer declares that they have misunderstood the very nature of faith.  He doesn’t answer them with the compassion and understanding that we expect of him.  Instead he tells them that if they had faith the size of a mustard seed, they would be able to do huge miracles: like command an enormous sycamore tree that grows up to sixty feet tall with deep roots to be uprooted and plant itself in the sea.  They do not need more faith; rather, they need to understand that faith enables God to work in a person’s life in ways that defy ordinary human experience.

How many of you have ever seen a mustard seed?  It is teen-insy.  I mean, if you put it in the palm of your hand, it will fall into one of the creases.  I’m passing around a dish with fennel seeds in it.  Take one – if you can – take a few if it’s too difficult to separate one from the bunch and pass the dish on.  Now mustard seeds are about this size, maybe even a little bit smaller.  How many of you feel that you have at least that much faith, even on a bad day?

Well, Jesus is saying that is all you need.  Linda Duff and I were talking with Grace the other day about Corrie Ten Boom and a story she tells toward the end of her book, The Hiding Place.  I think this story illustrates Jesus ’ point beautifully.

Corrie Ten Boom was a Dutch woman of great faith who lived in a house in Haarlem with her elderly father and older sister.  She lived an uneventful life as a spinster watchmaker up into her fifties, caring for and with her family, until the time that World War II came along and the German occupation with it.  In keeping with their strong Christian faith and the compassionate view that the Jews were God’s chosen people, when the time came that they were asked to help in the resistance movement, the elderly Ten Boom sisters and their father did just that.  They answered God’s call by building a false wall behind which individuals and families could hide while they found ways to get them out of the country.

Their work was successful for quite some time, but eventually they were caught and Corrie and her sister, Betsie, were ultimately sent to a concentration camp in Darmstadt , Germany .  The cruelties they both suffered there are too numerous to name; we all know what concentration camps were like during the Second World War and the two Dutch women were given no special treatment for being elderly or Christian.  They suffered every pain and indignity and torture with the rest of the victims.  Eventually, much to Corrie’s initial anguish, Betsie died.  But when she saw her sister for the last time, laid out in death, her face was young and radiant.  Corrie realized her sister had gone on to be with Jesus and remembered her conviction that there was more work to do.

In the end, Corrie was released on a clerical error and made her slow and painful way home.  But that was not the end of her efforts.  She helped to establish homes for those who had suffered at the Nazis’ hands and even made one out of her beloved homesite, the Beje for the Dutchmen who had sided with the enemy during the war who were now being belittled, taunted and barred from employment.  Somehow through it all, she managed to have compassion for brokenness on both sides of the fence.

Healing was needed most in Germany , she said, so she spent a lot of time sharing her story there.  Then one day, it happened.  After a church service in Munich where she had spoken, she saw him.  A former Secret Service man who had stood guard at the shower room door in the processing center in Ravensbruck.  He was the first of her actual jailers that Corrie had seen since that time and suddenly, she says, it was all there – the roomful of mocking men, the heaps of clothing, Betsie’s pain-blanched face.

He came up to her as people filed out of the church, beaming and bowing.  “How grateful I am for your message, Fraulein,” he said, “To think that, as you say, He has washed my sins away.”

Corrie felt rooted to the spot.  The man put out his hand to shake hers, but she couldn’t raise her arm.  Angry, vengeful thoughts boiled inside her, even as she saw the sin of them.  She, who had preached forgiveness to so many others, now found it impossible to give.  Jesus Christ had died for this man, she thought, was she going to ask for more?

She tried to smile; she struggled to raise her hand.  But she couldn’t.  She felt nothing.  Nothing.  Not the smallest spark of warmth or charity.  So she breathed a silent prayer, “ Jesus , I cannot forgive him.  Give me Your forgiveness.”

And she lifted her hand.  As she took his in her, the most incredible thing happened.  From her shoulder along her arm and through her hand, she felt a current pass from her to him and a love sprang into her heart that almost overwhelmed her.  She discovered that the world does not depend on her ability to forgive or on her own goodness for its healing, but on God.  As Jesus told the disciples in our story today, all you need is faith the size of a little seed.  Even with just a little we can live by Jesus ’ teachings.

I find this inspiring and hope that you do, too.  However, the next piece of Jesus ’ message would be easy to ignore or to pretend it wasn’t there.  You see, the following passage about the servant of whom much is demanded affirms that regardless of how much we do, we cannot do more than is expected of us.  The story assumes that we have knowledge of the workings of a small farmer in Israel in Jesus ’ time.  A farmer who was not wealthy at all, but could afford to have one slave.  Now, if you were in a single slave household, your life would be far from easy.  Your job duties would be hefty.  You would be expected to work in the fields and also take care of household chores.  You would not be able to take care of your needs until your master’s had been attended to.  This was common knowledge of the day.  Jesus is challenging the disciples to see themselves as servants of the Lord, expected to work without expectation of acknowledgement or reward.

Most of us today would choose a different metaphor: God as slavedriver is not exactly an appealing picture.  Nevertheless, this is what Jesus gives us to work with, so we’ve got to take a look at it.  I think the point is that God owes us nothing for living good and faithful Christian lives.  God’s favor and blessing are a result of grace – they cannot be earned.  If we read the parable within the context of the earlier verses, it can become clearer.  Through faith, the disciple can do what God requires of him or her, but is never able to do more.  We cannot even meet the basic needs of discipleship through our own goodness and strength – it is only through faith that we can protect the meek and forgive others as we ought.

Let’s look at the passage in Lamentations and see what its perspective is on the issue.  We begin with the nation of Israel in exile and the opening words are exactly what you would expect from a book called Lamentations: “How lonely sits the city that once was full of people!”  The city of God is empty.  Why?  Because “her foes have become her masters,…she suffer(s) for the multitude of her transgressions.”  Clearly, this passage was written in response to an actual physical leaving of the capital city of Israel and the people are in literal bondage to another nation.  But I would like for us to think in terms of our lives today.

What holds you in bondage?  What has become your master?  What is it that keeps you from becoming the person that God intends you to be?  It is anger?  Against a family member or a colleague at work?  Or just the vicissitudes of life in general?  Is it sloth?  It just seems like too much work to clean the house or to take care of the garden or to do your job to the best of your ability?  It is easier to slide by on what you can get away with rather than using all the gifts and skills that God gave you?  Is it pride?  Is it so important that your home be as nice or nicer than your best friend’s that you spend all your time and money on decorators and expansion rather than reaching out to a world in need?  Or does pride show up in other ways?  Pride in your children, in your accomplishments, in your material possessions so that you spend your time boasting rather than listening?  Is it another person?  Do you spend your time worrying about pleasing another human being rather than God?  Has another person become God for you, so that you are unable to separate his or her wants and needs from your own?

There are many idols that we can chase after and forget the Lord.  When we do, our lives become out of balance, and that little seed of faith can definitely get lost in the cracks and crevices of our busy lives.  They become arid and barren, filled with activities but without substance, filled with people but lacking connection.  There is hope, however.  As Lamentations 3 goes on to tell us:  “The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.  ‘The Lord is my portion,’ says my soul, ‘therefore I will hope in him.’”

This part of the passage begins with the author remembering his homelessness and remembering his affliction and remembering the bitterness of his present way of life.  He claims his soul is bowed down within himself remembering these things.  And then he calls the hope of the Lord to mind.  So as you look at what has you enslaved to bondage, what it is that is holding you back, keeping your spirit from soaring free and your body from doing the work that it is called to do, remember that the Lord is faithful, waiting for you to cry out to God and when you do, the Lord will answer.  God will be there for you and will multiply that tiny seed of faith that you hold in your hand, until you feel God’s presence running through your hand and up your arm and into your body and you are filled with God’s light and love and the ability to do what it is that God has set before you.

Will it be the same thing that is set before your neighbor?  Of course not!  We’ve all got different skills and gifts and talents and will be called to do different things.  But we are called to do them together.

The Newbury award winning author, Avi, has a new book out.  It is called The End of the Beginning: Being the Adventures of a Small Snail (and an Even Smaller Ant).  In the tradition of classics like The Little Prince or Winnie the Pooh, this little book is a modern fable for our time, a parable, if you will, of two friends: a snail named Avon and an ant named Edward, who go out seeking adventures together and find out more about themselves and each other than they ever expected to know.

Chapter Three, In Which Music is Introduced, goes like this:

Avon and Edward had gone about three inches when Edward said, “ Avon , what do you know about music?”

“Oh, nothing more than a few tunes, most of which I’ve forgotten.”

Edward was concerned.  “In looking for adventures,” he explained, “one does a lot of marching.  It’s unheard of to have adventures without marching music.”

“I’m glad you warned me, Edward .  Perhaps you could teach me some.”

“Delighted,” said Edward .  “This is a very ancient marching song that has been sung in my family for thousands of years.  It goes like this:

“March, march

Golly, golly, golly.

March, march

Golly, golly, golly.

March, march

Oh, golly, golly, golly, oh.

Oh, oh, oh,

Oh, golly golly, golly, oh.

Oh, golly golly, golly, oh.

March, march, march!”

“What an inspiring song,” said Avon .

“One of the better things about it,” Edward pointed out, “is the fact that it can be sung from either end.  I sing it from the beginning, and my father sings it from the end.”

“Can it be sung from the middle?”

“Absolutely,” said Edward .  “That’s how my mother always does it.  As you can see, we are a family of individuals.”

“Ah, but at least you’re all singing the same song,” said Avon .

We, here at Sweet Hollow Presbyterian Church, are a family of individuals, too.  Some of bake bread, some of us design banners, some of us organize events, some of us share our financial well-being, some of bring canned food for the basket, some of us teach Sunday School, some of sing in the choir.  There are many things that we do, here at Sweet Hollow and out in the world.  Some of them we do well, some of them we need to work on.  But we are all singing the same song.  And while Jesus tells us that when we do what is expected of us by God, we are not to expect to be rewarded, we can expect to share community, commonality, support and fellowship within these walls.  Oh, we may not always be singing the same note at the same time, sometimes it may even come out sounding discordant and wrong, but if we’re all singing the same song – the same song of God’s faithfulness and enduring love, of God’s presence and active involvement in our lives – it will come out right in the end.

That’s a promise.  It’s the promise that we acknowledge and celebrate today on World Communion Sunday.  Today we are celebrating our sisters and brothers in faith here in this community and around the world – as they, too, are celebrating us.  We have heard music from different parts of the world and as we sing the familiar hymn “In Christ There Is No North Or South” at the close of worship today, we will sing it to a different hymn tune – an African-American spiritual – that we might remember those here in our own country who walk the walk of faith alongside us – singing the same song, but not exactly the same way.  We will take also take the Lord’s Supper differently today, to honor how it is One God who is with and for us all, and we are all striving to follow and be with that same One God.  Elder Bill Walter will join me at the front and he will hold the bread as I hold the cup.  You will tear a small piece of bread off of the loaf and dip it into the cup.  You will place it in your mouth and eat it while up at the front, returning to your seat as you finish.  In this way, we will remember that we are all one; we are all individuals singing the Lord’s song, yet we are also part of the whole body of Christ .  We take the piece of bread from one loaf and the dip it in one cup.  We are One in Christ , with all the world and we celebrate One for all and all for One.  May it be so.  Amen.