Erl Purnell Sermon

c19Pentecost 16 ~ Septembher 16, 2007 ~ A sermon preached by The Rev’d Erl G. Purnell at Old St. Andrew’s Church, Bloomfield, CT

Exodus 32.1, 7-14; Psalm 51.1-11; 1 Timothy 1.12-17; Luke 15.1-10

For the entire summer season, I preached, not from the lectern, but there, in front of the pew screen. Many of you commented to me and said you enjoy when I speak that way, rather than from a written text. You say I’m more real and that my personality comes through in a more genuine way. Thanks for that.

I really appreciate your support for that homiletical style and I’ll try to continue it as the Spirit moves me. Please know, however, that doing so is actually extremely hard for me, even uncomfortable. I just need to be honest with you about this.

When I prepare for Sundays and consider what to say, I intend to be thoughtful, organized, and clear. Sometimes the magic works and sometimes it doesn’t, no matter what my style. Be that as it may, when I look at myself, I see an educator and writer, not an off-the-cuff speaker.

To be quite candid, a great part of my fear comes from having seen un-checked homiletics turn into a wandering, disjointed, unfocused fifteen or twenty minutes where no real teaching occurs and the congregation comes to ask, “Where’s the beef?” Because I’m not that good at memorizing, I worry about what I’ll forget or that I’ll neglect a transition that holds my thoughts together. I don’t want your time wasted or your attention lost.

One last comment. I’m often asked to send my sermons to people or to provide them for you to read later on. My habit has been to post them on-line at our website and to put a stack in the narthex and the vestibule. Usually they are all taken the next Sunday. Speaking without a formal text obviously makes sharing my remarks difficult. I suppose we could tape my homilies and sermons, though that raises a whole other level of responsibility and technology.

Anyway, now that I am back here, I just wanted you to know that I am glad you enjoyed my homilies this summer and to say something about the method of my madness.

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Speaking of which, our lessons today are focused on the madness of sinning. Where last Sunday I really did not want to talk about rejecting father and mother, brothers and sisters—that Gospel reading from Luke—, the Exodus reading and Luke’s Gospel today are two of my favorites. You might be surprised why.

First, Exodus. The nugget here is that the almighty mind of God changes, or rather is changed. Moses—good ole Moses—convinces God to hold back the lightening, earthquakes, plagues, storms and floods—God’s wrath and destruction—being readied for the people of Israel. The finger-shaking, judgmental, angry Hebrew God backs down. Moses convinces God that compassion will serve better than flaming arrows from heaven.

The point isn’t that Moses’ people haven’t sinned. They have. They’ve got this big gold calf made from all their jewelry and they’re saying it was the gold calf that lead them out of Egypt and into freedom—albeit a freedom of desert wilderness. What boneheads! They’ve convinced themselves that things we care about most—human wealth—are worth more than things spiritual. It’s the big sin, the really big sin.

Idolatry then and now is at the top of the sin list. “I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery; you shall have no other gods before me.” Next question?

And, a whole lot of the way we live today is still pretty idolatrous. Who among us would forsake an 80-gig iPod for a gift to the homeless? Or, a $385 monthly car payment for a flock of chickens in Toga? We love our things, things we’ve convinced ourselves we cannot live without.

But, back to Exodus. God’s mind changed. God shows compassion. It’s a great lesson, a great learning for God. God becomes compassionate, and many years later Jesus admonishes this friends, “Be compassionate as God is compassionate” (Luke 6.36). The two take-aways here are that God can and does change. That’s a good lesson. When we’re stuck on one thing, in one position, one point of view, take a lesson from the Divine—let it go. Turn around and make a change. God did. Can you?

And second, no matter what, idolatry is incompatible with the spirit of God. Can you find ways to be less concerned about your own stuff—money, comfort, security—and more generous both of spirit and with your material things?

So now, to Luke. The reason I like this lesson is because it shows what a lousy shepherd Jesus makes. Believe me, I’ve had a flock of sheep. If you lose one, let it go because the coy dogs or coyotes are sure to get it. No well-trained shepherd’s going to abandon the flock for a single bleating ewe. Believe me. Just imagine trying to explain to the owner of the flock how the ninety-nine got gobbled up or run off while you were searching for the lost sheep.

Now I know I’m being pretty hard on Jesus. To his credit, however, he’s a great story teller. He’s terrific at using examples that grab his listeners’ attention. No doubt, those who heard Jesus talk about chasing after the single wayward lamb-y-kin, felt his thinking was nuts, too. But, as usual, Jesus then pulls the string. He’s not really talking about shepherds and sheep, is he? He’s making a point about God. And he caught those who know something about shepherding—everybody in Palestine two thousand years ago—off guard by his hyperbolic example. He’s got our attention and made his point unforgettable. God cares so much—so much more than any shepherd does for a lost sheep—that we’re guaranteed to be rescued. The God of compassion acts again on our behalf. One lost sheep—one lost Soul—does matter. Your Soul matters. Mine Soul matters to God.

And, Jesus tells us that God rejoices in the rescue of a lost Soul, of a sinner who is out of relationship with God and the community. God will be there to find us if only we’ll allow ourselves to be swept up in the strong “amateur-shepherd” arms of Love and Forgiveness.

So, there you have it. God comes first, and when we stray, God always wants us back. God has learned about compassion and we can, too.

Amen.