Saturday, January 14, 2017

Sermon for January 15: Inaugural Calling

Worship has been cancelled for January 15 due to inclement weather, but here is the sermon.

Inaugural Calling
Rev. James K. Poinsett
St. Mark Presbyterian Church
January 15, 2017
Now the boy Samuel was ministering to the LORD under Eli. The word of the LORD was rare in those days; visions were not widespread. 2At that time Eli, whose eyesight had begun to grow dim so that he could not see, was lying down in his room; 3the lamp of God had not yet gone out, and Samuel was lying down in the temple of the LORD, where the ark of God was.
4Then the LORD called, “Samuel! Samuel!” and he said, “Here I am!” 5and ran to Eli, and said, “Here I am, for you called me.” But he said, “I did not call; lie down again.” So he went and lay down.
6The LORD called again, “Samuel!” Samuel got up and went to Eli, and said, “Here I am, for you called me.” But he said, “I did not call, my son; lie down again.”
7Now Samuel did not yet know the LORD, and the word of the LORD had not yet been revealed to him. 8The LORD called Samuel again, a third time. And he got up and went to Eli, and said, “Here I am, for you called me.”
Then Eli perceived that the LORD was calling the boy. 9Therefore Eli said to Samuel, “Go, lie down; and if he calls you, you shall say, ‘Speak, LORD, for your servant is listening.’” So Samuel went and lay down in his place.
10Now the LORD came and stood there, calling as before, “Samuel! Samuel!” And Samuel said, “Speak, for your servant is listening.”11Then the LORD said to Samuel, “See, I am about to do something in Israel that will make both ears of anyone who hears of it tingle.
1 Samuel 3:1-11 (NRSV)

This is a momentous week in the life of our nation. We honor the legacy of Martin Luther King, Jr. as we say farewell to our first African-American President. And on Friday, we will celebrate the Inauguration of our 45th President.

In 2009, I was able to witness this revered event, the hallmark of our democracy, the peaceful transfer of power from one freely-elected President to the next. It is truly magnificent. This week, I’ve been trying to imagine what it will be like to hear President-elect Trump add his voice to the 229 years of inaugural speechmaking -- though, I won’t be totally surprised if he just tweets it out.

And, of course, the old political speechwriter in me has been thinking of past Inaugural speeches and the words spoken: words that make the ears tingle.

* Thomas Jefferson in 1801, conciliating inflamed political passions of the fledgling country, saying: “every difference of opinion is not a difference of principle . . . we are all republicans, we are all federalists.”

* Abraham Lincoln telling a nation descending into war in 1861 that “we must not be enemies” and calling on “the better angels of our nature.”

* And a victorious Lincoln in 1865 pledging “malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right” and vowing to “bind up the nation’s wounds . . . to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations.”

* Franklin Delano Roosevelt in 1933, amid the Great Depression, candidly acknowledging the nation’s troubles while asserting that “the only thing we have to fear is fear itself.”

* John F. Kennedy in 1961 challenging Americans, “ask not what your country can do for you. Ask what you can do for your country.”

* In 1981, Ronald Reagan took over amid an economic crisis and as the Iranian hostage crisis ended. He conveyed optimism, dismissing the idea of “inevitable decline” and urging, “Let us begin an era of national renewal.”

Donald Ritchie, a historian for the U.S. Senate, says that the most memorable addresses were given in uncertain times: “Inaugural speeches aim at themes that make emotional connections . . . people need something that’s uplifting, that gives people hope, and calls [people] to get involved.” Indeed, according to the Merriam-Webster Dictionary definition of the word “inaugural” means, “marking a beginning” and includes the notion of being the “first in a projected series.”

Our story today, the story of Samuel’s call, is also an inauguration. This is a story of endings. And it is a story of new beginnings. God has promised to do a new thing. Something so large, that it will make both ears of anyone who hears it tingle.

The twelve tribes of Israel are settled in the Promised Land. The judges – Joshua, Deborah, Gideon, Samson – and other military heroes of Israel’s early history who led them against the Philistines are gone. The only things that unify the fledgling nation now are the menacing presence of the Philistines and the priesthood.

But the priests have become corrupt. Eli is the high priest. His sons are also priests, but are abusing their position and the people. Eli is unable to do anything about it. He even seems resigned to it.

The Israelite people are calling for a king to lead them. The word of the Lord is rare. Visions are infrequent. Eli’s eyesight is dim. But the lamp of God had not yet gone out.

Enter the boy Samuel. Samuel had been dedicated to God by his mother Hannah. He has been serving in the temple under Eli.

In the middle of the night, God’s inaugural call comes. Samuel, tossing and turning, hears the call, “Samuel, Samuel,” but has no idea it might be God. He gets out of bed, thinking it is Eli who is calling. “I didn’t call you,” Eli says, telling Samuel to go back to bed. God calls again: “Samuel, Samuel.” Again Samuel thinks it is Eli; again Eli sends him back to bed.

Then a third time God calls: “Samuel, Samuel.” This time Eli realizes what is happening. Eli tells Samuel, if he hears the voice again, he should answer: “Speak Lord, for your servant is listening” -- which is exactly what happens. God tells Samuel that there is a new direction for Israel, and that Samuel will be the prophet who will lead Israel in that new direction.

When was the last time you felt a “tingle” about the word of God to you? It would be a lot easier if God spoke to us in an immediately recognizable voice, preferably in the middle of the day -- though not while interrupting a football game. But that’s not the way for most of us. As many of you know, this wasn’t the last time God’s call ever caused a sleepless night.

One of the reasons this story means so much to me is that it took four times for God to get through to Samuel. One of the occupational hazards of being a minister is that you are expected to have a “call story”: the more “Damascus Road” dramatic, the better the call story. And I confess, I have always been bashful, or reluctant, about saying that “I have been called by God.”

God’s call for me to go to Divinity School came while I was living in Washington, DC. When one decides to be a Presbyterian minister, one starts by getting the blessing of the church’s session. It is the first of several examinations to assess one’s call to ministry.

The session asks you to describe why you feel called. It was not a moment I was looking forward to. To make matters worse, when I met with the session at my church in Washington, there was another candidate also being examined that evening.

The other candidate went first. He leapt to his feet, and gave an eloquent, passionate answer – complete with a plan of how it would all work out. On the other hand, I mumbled something about making a difference in the world, and said some vague words about helping people deal with questions about faith and God and Jesus.

The session went ahead and voted to approve me. But I was so discombobulated by my inability to have a stellar answer that I deferred my enrollment to divinity school.

It took another year, and some help from those session members, who were like Eli, for me to figure out that I was hearing God’s call. Even then, it was another couple of years, which included many sleepless nights, before I figured out that God was truly calling me.

The Samuel story is about inauguration: new beginnings, with the notion of it being the first in a projected series. Maybe God calls us through the questions and struggles that haunt us at night – through the sense that we are not here for our own amusement, but to do God’s work. Perhaps it is God’s voice calling us when you can’t sleep at night because you are disturbed that even in West County there are people without a warm place to sleep at night, or without enough food to feed their families. Maybe it is possible that God is calling in the still, small voice that prods us to be open to new thoughts and to be brave enough to be in a lifelong search for meaning and purpose.

It does not necessarily mean dropping everything and going to seminary. God’s call is to everyone: mothers and fathers, neighbors and friends, doctors and lawyers, aunts and uncles, investment bankers and brokers, teachers and students, deacons and elders. The list is as endless as each of you here. People who can say, “Speak Lord, for your servant is listening.”

God speaks and continues to speak to us through that man we can’t seem to ignore, that compelling man Jesus, God’s word to us, spoken clearly, eloquently and powerfully in Jesus’ birth and life and teaching. In Jesus, God speaks to you and me and to our church and calls us to be his faithful disciples.

God is going to do a new thing, so large that it will make us tingle. God is calling each one of us to something new, and unexpected. It can be scary. Remember, in our story, the word of the Lord was rare and visions were infrequent. God’s call does not come to Samuel – or to us – in general circumstances. But this passage reminds us that, contrary to the evidence, the lamp of God has not yet gone out.

It is especially easy in times full of sleepless nights to think the word of the Lord is rare. That the only tingle we have experienced is the tingle of fear. We have heard plenty about the seemingly malevolent spirit that is pervades the land. We heard the doctor say the cancer was back. We heard that the church is dwindling and will never be what it once was.

We are put on full body alert at the possibility that our health insurance was going to be taken away. We are scared that our job will become obsolete, or we will no longer have a job, or that the next job won’t provide the kind of living we have grown accustomed to. When we hear of the Russian espionage or the possible threats to our civil liberties, civil rights, and voting rights, fear got our full attention. We tingle with fright.

What this story recommends to us, I believe, is that we begin to make decisions based on the tingle of hope. Oddly, the passage assures us that what God is going to do will make both ears tingle. Since I don’t want to make us out to be more heroic that we really are, I offer this: let one ear tingle with fear. Fear is legitimate under most of the circumstances of our lives. Fear is spiritually legitimate. A lot can go wrong. A lot of danger lurks.

But listen now with the other ear. Hear what Samuel was reluctant to hear: God is going to do a new thing, which will make both of our ears tingle. Give the other ear a little exercise. Let it tingle too. Imagine what God will do:

* Imagine hearts changed, lives transformed: where fear and suspicion are gone, replaced with a boldness of spirit.

* Imagine our church being a place that demonstrates God’s abundance and welcome as we confront scarcity, hatred and suffering rather than retreating into our self-affirming bubble.

* Imagine actually seeing one another rather than looking past each other, and in some small way, begin to find common purpose and common ground.

*Imagine good things and then believe that they are coming. 

*Imagine that something better awaits us, would we only have the courage to reach for it, and to work for it.

God has plans to do good things, plans that have already been shared with us in Jesus. Look for the lamp of God: look back to the Scripture, look forward in hope. Open both of your ears. Soon they will tingle.

On April 4, 1968, the night Martin Luther King, Jr. was killed, Robert Kennedy was in my hometown of Indianapolis. Shortly after learning the news of Dr. King’s assassination, Kennedy address a crowd that had gathered in a downtown park. He told them:
“Martin Luther King dedicated his life to love and to justice for his fellow human beings, and he died because of that effort.In this difficult day, in this difficult time for the United States, it is perhaps well to ask what kind of [people] we are and what direction we want to move in. We can be filled with bitterness and fear.Or we can make an effort, as Martin Luther King did, to understand and to comprehend, and to replace violence and fear with an effort to understand with compassion and love.”
On this week of inauguration, as we honor the past and look forward with hope, let us listen for God’s call, let us dedicate ourselves to that, and let us say a prayer for our country, our church, and our people. Amen.

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