Sermon: The Sixth Sunday After Pentecost

Proper 9A

July 9, 2023

Zechariah 9:9-12 Psalm 145:8-14 Romans 7:15-25a Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30

In the Name of God,

whose power in us, can do infinitely more

than we can ask for or imagine. Amen

- Ephesians 3:20

“But to what will I compare this generation?

It’s like children sitting in the marketplaces and calling to one another...”

These were Jesus’ words as he addressed a crowd made up of

willing followers and skeptical accusers.

There were voices of frustration and puzzlement.

Was Jesus lashing out in anger? Was he throwing up his hands in disgust?

We’re not really accustomed to hearing Jesus sound like this;

that is, wandering into the risky waters of cross-generational criticism.

In fact, he sounds here more like … well … us.

We might say it this way.

“But to what will I compare this generation?

They spend too much time buried in their Smartphone!”

Or young folk might say, “OK, Boomer! You‘re so out-of-touch and old-fashioned! The world is changing! You better catch up!”

“But to what will I compare this generation?”

Have you seen the clothes they wear! It’s sloppy and ugly and too revealing!

Or … Why can’t you old people understand self-expression?

My clothes help me be my authentic self in this world!

“But to what will I compare this generation?

That new worship music they’re using

is so monotonous and repetitive and lacking depth!”

Or … “Those old hymns are boring, hard to sing, and old-fashioned!”

Choose your topic these days—sacred or secular—

and it seems like so many opinions of what’s right, and what’s good, fall right along generational lines.

Heads are shaken in exasperation and—if you’re like me,

standing in line recently for a cell-phone upgrade

that will drag me kicking and screaming into a new generation—

beads of anxious sweat form along the ridge of my brow.

We know that new is not necessarily improved...

and traditional may not always mean wiser.

But the debates rage on, and from this morning’s gospel lesson we see that Jesus is no stranger, either, to the friction that occurs

when generations set their habits and expectations up against one another.

In our Gospel selection today, we heard that Jesus was frustrated

and quite irritated that the people of his day and age

were so unreceptive to the message he and his disciples were preaching. Their message was at odds with the message the people had heard for so long from the Pharisees’ sermons and the scribes’ teachings. And it wasn’t just Jesus’ message they’d questioned and rejected.

It was also his cousin John’s.

The crowds just couldn’t seem to get their heads around

the God who was presented in each of their respective messages.

The generations of their day couldn’t fathom the kingdom of heaven as it was being proclaimed from the lips of these newcomers; John the Baptist, Jesus of Nazareth, and his Galilean disciples.

Can we really blame them?

All of these country folk hailed from off-the-beaten-track towns from “Up North”, far from the traditional academy of Jerusalem.

None of them seemed to have a formal synagogue training.

John isolated himself in the desert much of the time, eating wild honey and locusts. And from time to time, he was known to dunk people in the Jordan River and he would publicly criticize the morals of the people in power.

Jesus hung out with a bunch of tax collectors and other outcasts;

Visiting their homes and attending parties.

And Jesus’ disciples … well, they were the same questionable folk

that Jesus was known to socialize with.

So, it should come as no surprise that people who were

comfortable with the status quo, were leery of the new message of God’s kingdom that Jesus was spreading.

Have any of us ever tried to explain our faith to a someone who isn’t a believer?

Have we ever tried to convince someone of the love of God

or our involvement in the life of a congregation,

to a person who, for whatever reason, is reluctant to follow?

To a large degree, Jesus’ encounters with people’s doubt

and their rejection of his message, is a common experience

for people of each and every age.

Whether we encounter difficulty in preaching the gospel of Jesus

on a personal level or whether we get frustrated when our congregations don’t grow and gather new members, it seems as if the church will always have to live with some level of discomfort or frustration with how our beloved traditions are received by the generation at hand and how we receive the changes suggested by that generation.

Statistics indicate that the number of people in society

who identify as having no religious affiliation is on the rise.

Explaining what God is like and sharing our faith will likely get more challenging.

So, let’s look again at Jesus’ immediate response to his own discouragement.

He offered thanksgiving that the gospel message was not something to be grasped by human knowledge, or wisdom, nor sophisticated reasoning.

Faith, is ultimately a gift of the Holy Spirit.

It cannot be conjured by our own strength or power.

Indeed, it seems that Jesus’ teachings are often difficult to grasp

by people who see themselves as intelligent and knowledgeable.

On the other hand, it is accepted by, and revealed to,

the young and inexperienced, the simple and the pure-hearted.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus reminded people, once again,

that it’s not brains that will lead to deeper faith,

and it’s not a sophisticated understanding about how the universe works that will ultimately cause anyone to come to Christ.

It is not brains we need, but a burden.

Our attraction to Jesus’ kingdom comes from the desire

for an easier burden than the ones we’re presently carrying.

It’s a longing for rest for our souls.

St. Augustine, was a man of supreme intelligence

who didn’t convert to Christian faith until much later in his life.

He once said, “I have read in Plato and Cicero

sayings that are very wise and very beautiful,

but I have never read in either of them,

‘Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.’”

No, it is not wisdom or beauty—although they are there—

that ultimately draws us to the way of Christ,

but rather, hope -

hope that when we cast our sorrows on this upstart from Galilee,

we will receive something far better than we’d ever imagine.

It is an emerging confidence that Jesus will go to the cross for us.

He’ll exchange our path of competition, egotism, judgement, guilt and shame for a new life, filled with undying love and forgiveness.

This has been revealed to me lately in the grief support group I facilitate, as I observe how people make progress through their grief. They often share how their faith gives them strength.

As the members listen to each other’s experiences,

They’re affirmed that the feelings they are having are normal.

This gives them hope that the pain of grief can subside

without having to lose the fond memories of their departed loved ones.

Last month’s service of hope and healing was another way

in which people who were dealing with personal illness,

who were concerned about others who are struggling with health or other problems, or who were mourning the loss of a loved one,

gained hope, and experienced some healing by means of scripture reflection, gentle music, anointing and prayer.

None of it was sophisticated, but rather simple, honest and sincere.

When we approach the communion rail on Sundays,

although none of us fully understands it, a childhood innocence deep within us, reaches out to God. As we extend our hands and receive the consecrated bread, we find that Jesus is truly present, taking us by the hand, and inviting us to come, and follow him. And so, we do.

After communion, we pray that we may live Jesus’ risen life;

bring life to others; and give light to the world.

We share our faith with each other by sharing the holy moments

that we have experienced.

Then, as we are dismissed, we give thanks to God with an “Alleluia!” that we are sent to love and serve the Lord by serving others.

Yes, we have a living faith, born on the lips of true infants and children, whether we’re 1 or 101.

We’re all children of God, who pray with childlike faith,

who love freely as Jesus does, and in our own ways, allow God to work through us, to bring healing and hope into the world.

Amen.

Resources

The New Interpreters Study Bible, NRSV with Apocrypha, Abington Press, Nashville, 2003

A sermon by The Reverend Phillip W. Martin, Jr., Epiphany Lutheran Church · Richmond, VA, © 2023, used with permission, A Sermon for Every Sunday