The New England Church Pulpit

New England Congregational Church UCC
Aurora Illinois

Shocking
Luke 7: 31-50

October 27, 2002
It happened several years ago. It was back in the days before laws required that all young children be properly restrained in car seats. It was back in the days when families had station wagons rather than SUVs or Vans. It was back in the days when children would get in the back of a station wagon and look out the back window. So recall or imagine those days. Jim, a nice fellow, a teacher of religion, a father, had pulled up on a line of traffic at a stop light. He stopped behind a station wagon with three little girls staring at him from the back window. There they were, three sweet, smiling, cherubic faces. Five or six years old. Pictures of innocence and life’s goodness. Open. Trusting. Not yet hardened by life. The kind of little girls we tell cute stories about. You know, the ones who write letters to God and say “I really like the neat combination of red and purple you use for sunsets.”
Or the ones who upon hearing the Sunday school teacher say that after the children of Israel crossed the Red Sea, they built altars and made sacrifices. And the child asks, “Didn’t the grown-ups do anything?” Or when asked what they learned from the story of Jonah respond that “People make whales sick.”
Cute children. Charming children. There they were blue-eyed, flaxen-haired, with short, beribboned pigtails poking out behind each head.
“I glanced at the light,” Jim said. “It was still red. I looked down again at the children in the window. They were still smiling, but now each was holding up one plump little hand with the middle finger extended in the classic obscene gesture. As the light changed and the traffic moved forward, the little girl in the middle–in case I had missed the point–repeated the gesture, more vigorously that before and with both hands.” (From Tom Mullen, Mountaintops and Molehills.) [Let it be noted that I kept my hands safely locked together on the lectern lest I inadvertently illustrate this.]
The honking of the car behind him brought Jim back from his stunned condition and of course he released the clutch (I told you this was quite a while ago) too quickly and stalled his car in the middle of traffic, which angered those motorists behind him so that they joined the little girls in the single digit salute. Now this did not surprise or shock him. But the little girls, after all they were only four or five or six—Shocking!!
Consider what our reaction might be if one of those little cherubs had been one of ours.
First:
Ruthie would never, ever have done that on her own. I told you we should not let her play with Christie and Janet. She didn’t learn that sort of thing at home. We should have enrolled her in New England Nursery School. She wouldn’t have learned this kind of behavior there! We really must monitor with whom she plays. Clearly it is not her fault; it is not our fault.
Does this sound familiar? “The woman gave me the fruit.” “It was the snake’s fault.”
Second:
Ruthie has disgraced us all. I’m shocked and disappointed and humiliated. She gets this from your side of the family! How can I show my face at church again. The Bible was wrong: It isn’t that the sins of the fathers are visited upon the sons, it’s that the sins of the daughters are visited upon the fathers. Where, oh where, have I failed? It must be my fault. My children must be perfect or I’m no good.
Third:
Oh, come on. Girls will be girls. It’s no big deal. Hey, I was a rounder when I was a kid and I turned out O.K. You should have seen the Halloween tricks I pulled. Those were the days of the outdoor privies. I certainly tipped over my share. Loosen up. Chill!
OR
Kids will be kids. She didn’t know what she was doing. It is just a phase. You’ve taken child psychology. It is a stage in development, and a strategy of differentiation.
Don’t make a big deal out of this. Don’t tell me you still believe in sin, especially original sin? Really.
Don’t worry unless this becomes obsessive behavior.
A blend of these might be our response to a questionable activity of some innocent childish behavior. And they may be our responses when people we care about misbehave–particularly when they should know better.
I know we live in a culture that doesn’t talk much about sin. Certainly the branch of Christianity this church belongs to doesn’t talk much about sin. You see, we’re not into guilt. For many of us, when we were young if people talked about sin what they really seemed to be doing was attempting to make us feel guilty, often about silly stuff.
When they started the guilt trip we went somewhere else–either in our head or with our feet.
After all, we –I–want to emphasize the grace, forgiveness, and love of God.
Some years ago a theological writer was at Yale Divinity School and found it very frustrating that the books she wanted were never in the library nor was there any record at the front desk that they had been checked out. When the writer asked the librarian what was going on, he said that the Divinity School had the highest theft rate of any graduate school in the university. When asked why he thought that was the case he responded, “Grace. You guys figure all has been forgiven ahead of time, so you go ahead and take what you want.” (Barbara Brown Taylor, Speaking of Sin) Well I don’t think we have gone that far. But we don’t talk much about sin.
Lewis Lapham wrote an article in Harper’s Magazine in which he proposed a merger of the seven cardinal virtues with the seven deadly sins. Virtues, he argued, do not meet the requirements of the global market, while sins sustain the stock market, keep employment rates high, excite speculation, and satisfy the public appetite for intrigue. “Trim out the fat of the seven virtues,” he says, “and nothing bad happens to the price of real estate or the Dow Jones Industrial Average; take away the seven deadly sins, and the country goes promptly broke.”
I know, I know, I’ve gotten far away from my story of the cute little girls who shocked a middle age theology teacher.
We would say,
Ruthie, we don’t want you to do that sort of thing–especially to friends. It’s rude, it’s not nice. So don’t do it. But know this Ruthie, we love you anyhow.
Let me tell you another story.
This is about a minister on the East coast. He is a UCC preacher. He believes in social justice. He is suspicious of over simplistic religious slogans, particularly on bumper stickers.
Bumper stickers once were merely advertising announcements (See Marvel Cave, Vote Libertarian). Road signs had a sense of humor. Are you old enough to remember the series of signs like, “She eyed/ his beard/ and said no dice/ the wedding’s off/ I’ll cook the rice–Burma Shave” or “A beard/ that’s rough/ and overgrown/ is better than/ a chaperone/ Burma Shave” But they disappeared nearly forty years ago. Now you find humorous bumper stickers. Such as “Don’t laugh it’s paid for.” or “My daughter and my money go to Aurora University.” Or bumper stickers with a message. “If you outlaw guns then only outlaws will be armed.” Or War is Bad for Children” One that has been around for a long time is “Honk, if you love Jesus”
That is the bumper sticker this minister saw. He says he is uncertain what possessed him. It was out of character for him. He didn’t really identify with the sticker. But he honked.
The woman driving the car with the “Honk, if you love Jesus” bumper sticker turned her head to the minister and, just like the cute little girls of my first story, extended the middle finger of her right hand toward him as she scowled and drove away.
He was stunned. Shocked. Amused. Befuddled.
So he began to speculate about how to explain what he had seen.
Perhaps the car was not hers. Maybe she had borrowed it from one of her pious friends. Or maybe it belonged to a member of her family who had more religion (or a different kind of religion) than she. Maybe she had just bought the car used. She probably did not walk around the vehicle to read the signs on it before she drove it.
Perhaps she was unaware of the bumper sticker because it had been put there by someone else without her knowledge. It could have been put there by her hyper-religious sister. Or maybe roving bands of evangelicals had gone through parking lots putting these stickers on cars.
Maybe she forgot that she had put it there. Or maybe she forgot what she was advertising. Or maybe she forgot who she was. Perhaps she was just having one of those days. You know those “bad” days when finally everything irritates and infuriates. Maybe she had lost her faith and hadn’t replaced this sticker with one that says “ If Jesus is the answer, what is the question?” At any rate the story suggests that we should be careful what we advertise.
That is at least one of the points in the story from today’s scripture reading. Simon, the Pharisee, according to tradition, advertised his piety. He was shocked when Jesus allowed a woman with a bad reputation to touch him. Jesus points out that his judgmental attitude reveals a lack of any sense of forgiveness or love. Further, Simon’s piety leads him to be inhospitable. What then is the good news for us today from the gospel?
Isn’t it what Jesus said to the woman? “Your faith has saved you, Go in peace.” Amen.

Joe Dunham


Copyright © 2002 by Joe Dunham. All rights reserved.

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