The Second Sunday after Pentecost
1st Samuel 3:1-10
Psalm 139
2nd Corinthians 4:5-12
Saint Mark 2:23 - 3:6
Psalm 139
2nd Corinthians 4:5-12
Saint Mark 2:23 - 3:6
“Real Identity”
“Who are you?”
That is a dangerous question for a guest preacher to ask because your justifiable response might be: “None of your business!”
Yet, when you walked in this morning that may have been your first reaction when saw me standing in the narthex. “Who are you?” You might have asked along with a second question: “And what have you done with our pastor?”
I assure you she is fine. She is just taking this Sunday off.
Those of you with really good memories also might have seen me before worship and exclaimed: “Not you again!” Rest assured I understand that reaction because I have heard it before - mostly from friends.
Those of you with really good memories also might have seen me before worship and exclaimed: “Not you again!” Rest assured I understand that reaction because I have heard it before - mostly from friends.
But here we are. You are wondering about me and I am wondering about you as people often do.
“Who are you?” Is the basis of most of our questions.
This is not genius but the question “Who are you?” is really asking about how you define yourself. Have you become defined by what you do, by your job or perhaps by your being without a job? Do you see yourself first and foremost as a teacher, as an investment banker, as an administrative assistant, as a full-time volunteer, as a scientist, as a police officer, as a professional musician, or as unemployed? Is it your job, your paid work, or the lack of one that tells you who you are?
“Who are you?” Is the basis of most of our questions.
This is not genius but the question “Who are you?” is really asking about how you define yourself. Have you become defined by what you do, by your job or perhaps by your being without a job? Do you see yourself first and foremost as a teacher, as an investment banker, as an administrative assistant, as a full-time volunteer, as a scientist, as a police officer, as a professional musician, or as unemployed? Is it your job, your paid work, or the lack of one that tells you who you are?
Or perhaps you are more defined these days by a major role you have in the life of another person or people. Maybe you know who you are because you are a care-giver, or you are a sister, or you are a father, or you are a daughter, or you are a spouse or partner. Maybe you primarily define yourself as a friend who keeps other friends afloat. Is it what you do for another that tells you who you are?
It could also be, though, that you are in a season of life where you find yourself defined by what you are no longer: you are no longer someone who works; you are no longer someone who has kids at home; you are no longer someone who is married; you are no longer someone whose parents are living; you are no longer someone in good health. Who or what tells you who you are?1
Today’s readings are all about identity. They are all about answering the question “Who are you?”
It could also be, though, that you are in a season of life where you find yourself defined by what you are no longer: you are no longer someone who works; you are no longer someone who has kids at home; you are no longer someone who is married; you are no longer someone whose parents are living; you are no longer someone in good health. Who or what tells you who you are?1
Today’s readings are all about identity. They are all about answering the question “Who are you?”
Samuel, asleep in the temple near an old, blind priest named Eli is about to discover who he is even during a time when the voice of the LORD was rarely heard.
No wonder he is asleep. Even if you are in the house of God near the Ark of the Covenant - the place where God presence was supposed to abide - if God isn’t speaking, or hasn’t spoken in a long time, there is no sense staying awake. Why listen for something that has rarely happened? Why listen when there is nothing to hear?
I’ll bet that sometime or another what happened to Samuel has happened to you. You got out of bed many Sunday mornings and came to worship out of habit. Mind you, it is a very good habit to have, but you came hoping the music would be good, the sermon might be moderately interesting, and the whole thing would be over in an hour.
Then, much to your surprise, something happened. Some scripture that you heard a thousand times before spoke to you. Something the preacher said moved you. The fourth line of the third verse of a hymn touched you heart. Maybe even something called you, motivated you, into action.
That is what happened to Samuel. His wasn’t a warm, fuzzy experience. He was called to speak a word to the powers that had silenced the word of the LORD and tell them that God was still at work.
He wasn’t asked to do something easy. Samuel was called to challenge the princedoms and powers of his day.
Why was Samuel, a sleepy, young boy chosen? I think that God saw something inside of him that others did not or would not. God saw in Samuel a treasure in an earthen vessel.
Saint Paul says “we have this treasure in jars of clay.”2
A pastor friend of mine, The Rev’d Adam Fronczek, explained how this works perfectly.
No wonder he is asleep. Even if you are in the house of God near the Ark of the Covenant - the place where God presence was supposed to abide - if God isn’t speaking, or hasn’t spoken in a long time, there is no sense staying awake. Why listen for something that has rarely happened? Why listen when there is nothing to hear?
I’ll bet that sometime or another what happened to Samuel has happened to you. You got out of bed many Sunday mornings and came to worship out of habit. Mind you, it is a very good habit to have, but you came hoping the music would be good, the sermon might be moderately interesting, and the whole thing would be over in an hour.
Then, much to your surprise, something happened. Some scripture that you heard a thousand times before spoke to you. Something the preacher said moved you. The fourth line of the third verse of a hymn touched you heart. Maybe even something called you, motivated you, into action.
That is what happened to Samuel. His wasn’t a warm, fuzzy experience. He was called to speak a word to the powers that had silenced the word of the LORD and tell them that God was still at work.
He wasn’t asked to do something easy. Samuel was called to challenge the princedoms and powers of his day.
Why was Samuel, a sleepy, young boy chosen? I think that God saw something inside of him that others did not or would not. God saw in Samuel a treasure in an earthen vessel.
Saint Paul says “we have this treasure in jars of clay.”2
A pastor friend of mine, The Rev’d Adam Fronczek, explained how this works perfectly.
On was his last night in Turkey he decided to treat himself to a nice meal. He ordered a testi kabob, which is actually a meat and vegetable casserole. The recipe is essentially exactly like ours for any kind of chicken, beef or lamb stew but here is the kicker.
In a traditional restaurant, like the one Adam was eating at, the dish was prepared in a clay pot or jug that was completely sealed. I’ll let Adam’s words describe the bit of culinary theater that occurred when the waiter brought his meal to the table.
In a traditional restaurant, like the one Adam was eating at, the dish was prepared in a clay pot or jug that was completely sealed. I’ll let Adam’s words describe the bit of culinary theater that occurred when the waiter brought his meal to the table.
[T]he waiter brought an empty bowl, and he took a meat cleaver, scored the pot near the top, flipped the cleaver over, exposing the dull side, broke the pot clean in two, and poured my dinner out in front of me.
I was impressed, and ... also a little floored that they ruined a perfectly good pot every time someone ordered the testi kabob.You probably already see Adam’s application.
Every time someone orders the testi kabob, a waiter illustrates a common understanding of Paul’s lesson in 2nd Corinthians 4: we have the treasure of Jesus Christ in clay pots...3But it takes someone to reveal that to us.
Another one of my favorite preachers and storytellers is the late Dr. Fred B. Craddock, professor of preaching the Candler School of Theology at Emory University in Atlanta. His is also a story from a restaurant only, this time, not from a faraway land but the Black Bear Inn, which afforded a panoramic view of the Great Smokey Mountains.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw a man who he knew, Ben Hooper, the former governor, working the room as if he was still running for office.
Fred whispered to his wife, Nettie, “I hope he doesn’t come over here.” which is exactly what he did.
“Are you on vacation?” the man asked. “Yes,” Fred said, while under his breath he was saying “It’s really none of your business.” “Where are you from?” the man continued. “Oklahoma,” Fred responded. “What do you do there?” “I teach homiletics at a graduate school,” Fred remarked, hoping that response would either be confusing or would send him away. “Ahhh . . . ,” the man smiled, “so you teach preachers, do you? Well, have I got a story to tell you.” And with that the man pulled up a chair and sat down at their table. Both Craddocks groaned inwardly.
“I was born not far from here, just across the mountain, in eastern Tennessee. My mother was not married when I was born, and the whole community knew it, so I had a hard time.
“In my early teens I began to attend a little church back in the mountains called Laurel Springs Christian Church. It had a minister who was a great preacher, and for whatever reason, his sermons did something for me, to me. So I would go just in time for the sermon and leave before anyone had a chance to talk to me. I was so afraid someone would stop me and say, ‘What’s a boy like you doing in a church?’
“One Sunday, the benediction was over too quickly, and I did not have a chance to escape. Before I could make my way to the door, I felt this large, heavy hand on my shoulder. It was the preacher. I trembled in fear. He looked right in my eyes and said, ‘Son, who do you belong to?’ I did not respond, because I could tell he too, like all the others, was going to take a guess as to who my father was. A moment later he said, ‘Now just wait a minute. I see the family resemblance. Son, you belong to God. It is a striking resemblance. You are a child of God. I can see it so clearly in your face. Now, you get out there and claim your inheritance,’ the preacher charged, slapping me on the back.”
The elderly gentleman paused, and Fred and Nettie realized they were holding their breath. He started again: “I left that church a different person. It was the single most important sentence I had ever heard. It changed my life. After all those years of not knowing, all those years of wondering, all those years of stares, he told me who I truly was.4So I guess you and I do know each other after all. From this vantage point I can see the family resemblance. I hope you can see it from yours too.
On the outside we may looked like cracked pots. And some times we may act like a cracked pot but inside we are children of God. Inside we are followers of Jesus and because of that we are all his brothers and sisters, family. I hope you can see the same thing in my face that I see in yours.
The more I look the more I recognize you. I do know who you are.
“Hello, my sister.” “Hello, my brother.” I should have known this right away - you’re my family in Christ.
Thanks for listening.
____________
1. Kershner, Shannon J. ""Identity"." Sunday Morning Sermon, The Fourth Presbyterian Church, Chicago, April 29, 2018.
2. 1 Corinthians 4:7. [[(NIV) (NIV= The New International Version)
3. Fronczek, Adam H. "'Jazz at Four' Sermon." Sunday Afternoon Sermon, The Fourth Presbyterian Church, Chicago, May 19, 2013.
4. Craddock, Fred B. Craddock Stories. Edited by Mike Graves and Richard F. Ward, Chalice Press, 2001.
Sermon preached at Irving Park Lutheran Church
Chicago, Illinois
Sunday, June 3, 2018
