Sermons

"Sign Language"

Delivered from the Pulpit of First Congregational Church by The Reverend Mark E. Long on February 15, 2009

Lections:  Lev. 26.3-6

                 Amos 9.13-15; ref. 8.11-12

                 Js. 1.22-25

                 Mk. 4.1-12

Every story has a denouement; the final move in untwisting the plot which if well written the reader or audience does not see coming.  I have never written a book but from talking with writer friends of mine I understand that sometimes the author has the story mapped out to its end but more often she has no idea how it will end until it does.  Do the latter books make for the more satisfying stories?  I don't know about books but when the stories are the ones of our lives, it is hard to find examples where it ever turns out as we thought.

Why do I say this?  The stories of our lives go on beyond our ability to see too far ahead; there are too many variables to control to say that we can map out early on our life stories that will unfold out of the vast number of choices ahead for us and those things and persons that will affect us.  We will have something to say about the twists and turns of our path and end, but much will happen along the way to make it turn out very different anywhere along the way as we write it.  This is how a reluctant fifteen year old called by God to Christian service as a Southern Baptist music director finds himself over thirty years later as a left of center Congregational minister.  Who knew?  Certainly not him, and yet he always knew something was in the air.

We have considered the past few weeks, "signs," God's nudges, pricks, and whacks in the head, which move our stories toward more satisfying outcomes, outcomes of which we have but a vague apprehension, if that.

Our scripture lesson from Leviticus this morning gives us an image of what might be expected for people who commit themselves to the law - "rains in their season," the "land shall yield its produce, the "trees . . . shall yield their fruit," and there shall be peace in the land.  These things will come in response to obedience to the law.  People of the law, who live in the spirit of 'sattva' may expect these outcomes.  This would seem to be where the human journey may satisfyingly end and it actually doesn't make for a bad one.

But in the Bhagavad Gita, Krishna concludes that it is not enough to start moving from spiritual paralysis to action that is hit or miss on the "signs" you see or hear, or even to move from there to a commitment to follow these "signs" vigorously and faithfully.  The surprise ending for the spiritual sojourner, Krishna says, is that he is called to go beyond where the gunas can take him.  It is to an understanding that "signs" are his native language that he has forgotten how to speak, perhaps even to the extent that they constitute who he is.

I am reminded of "A Prayer for Owen Meany[1];" John Irving's story of a quite ordinary and flawed man who from childhood knows only that "he is an instrument of God," and (I might add) he is not particularly happy about it.  He doesn't have a clue how it will all unfold, but he seems convinced throughout - again not his idea - that his life is destined in some way.

The "signs" are there from the beginning that will lead to the end but Owen Meany's claims don't carry much weight with folks who find him unusual only in that he is quite small at all ages and the bearer of the most annoying, shrill voice maybe ever.  In all other ways, Owen Meany is alarmingly normal and not at all what we think of as holy - hardly an "instrument of God" as Owen goes around telling everybody as if to convince himself.

Yet the story concludes in a way to prove Owen Meany right; an alarmingly normal boy then man, closer to a sinner than a saint, uses what he has been given by God to make a huge difference in the lives of others.  But only because he is willing to accept that his life may be "an instrument of God" and commit to where this will take him.  Owen Meany may be ordinary but his story unfolds to an extraordinary end quite without his knowledge because he follows the "signs" that he could see and hear.

Well no, that is not really true; for you see the difference for Owen Meany from the Israelites as people of the law is that for Owen Meany there really were no "signs" outside of him.  There was no preacher to tell him that he was "an instrument of God;" there was no book he read which said "listen to the events of your life."  The "signs" that led Owen Meany to his fateful act did not just "pop up" here or there.  The "signs" for Owen Meany were his life; they were, in his case, constitutive to who he was.  He lived with the knowledge from childhood that "sign language" was his native language.

The "signs" of Owen Meany's destiny were a part of who he was.  These physical anomalies of small stature and a shrill voice in context of their eventual use became gifts to allow Owen Meany to be "an instrument of God" as he since childhood suspected he would be.

Amos contrasts, in the last two chapters, the different experiences of those who are willing or not to be an "instrument of God."  Chapter 8 tells of famine and thirst, not for food or water, but for "hearing (seeing) the Word of the Lord."  Signs of the Lord's word and action are absent, nowhere to be found.  But then we read in chapter 9 "the time is surely coming" when, consistent with the images of plenty in Leviticus, the signs of God's word and actions will be restored in the word and actions of the people such that nature itself will "drip sweet wine" and the "hills shall flow with it."  These glorious images of prosperity hold the biggest surprise in the final verse:  "I (God) will plant them upon their land . . . that I have given them," or as I see it, "they" will become God's eternal seed or "sign" of God's presence to others.

Those who are "signs" of God's action in the world are people who live beyond the gunas; they live in a world free of the confining human perspectives that prevent seeing things as they are.  They see God everywhere, as all things, and so shrink from carving up life's interests into yours and mine.  They understand that the "signs" of God's presence and guidance are seen and heard but also lived out in their actions when they commit to collapse the distance between God and themselves.

James puts it:  "They are doers of the word rather than just hearers of it" and the difference makes all the difference.  For they look into the mirror and see not the forgetfulness of hearers but the "perfect law" of liberty which frees them of self-limiting perspectives to answer the call of whatever kind to be "doers," or "signs" of God's presence and guidance in and for the world.  They are blessed, says James, even as they bless others.

People who live beyond the gunas are people whose native language is "sign language" or so, I think, Jesus says in the popular "sower" parable.  This is a parable you probably know but may have not thought of in this way.  Usually the parable, quite reasonably, is interpreted to describe the readiness of various people to receive the seed of Spirit (the Word of God). The only soil (heart) in which the seed takes hold to grow is in the "good soil" of those who would "accept it" and commit to it for the distance of their days.  In every other soil, the seed never takes hold, or its sprout dies quickly or slowly given the challenges of time.

Now simply replace the seed metaphor with "sign" and consider the parable anew.  The "signs" of God's presence or guidance are 1) not even suspected; 2) rarely seen and heard then burn up without sprouting understanding; 3) seen and heard but soon crowded out by other worldly concerns; or 4) seen and heard in an open heart ready, no, eager, no, expectant to receive "signs" which will lead to place and purpose.

This openness to receive "signs," which I commend enthusiastically, comes with the warning label to test the signs.  If they are not liberating, do not promote healthy outcomes, and do not lead to loving acts, they come from some place other than God.  Let me give an example.  A year or so ago, I saw a young woman sitting in her car in apparent distress in our parking lot.  She told me she was on her way to a job interview but was in turmoil about whether it was God's will or not.  I asked if she wanted to come in and talk about it; she did.

She was a recent graduate of a largely closed private school system of religious fundamentalism in Wasilla.  The combination of her religious upbringing with its emphasis on discerning God's will and what appeared to be a mild OCD disorder led her to put every decision of her day under the litmus test of "is this God's will."  This led to the paralysis of her sitting in her car outside the church trying to decide whether a job interview at Fed Ex met the test.  There is nothing liberating, healthy, or loving about that.

So the damage along life's ways can affect how consumed we become with "sign language" and there is a point at which listening crosses over into obsession which is neither liberating, nor healthy, nor loving.  That said, sometimes "signs" hit us hard and incessantly for a purpose. 

But beyond seeing and hearing the "signs" God sends into our lives and following where they may lead, there are those such as Owen Meany who understand not why or how but just that they are a "sign" themselves of God's presence and guidance for others.

We all are, of course, if we choose to be.  If we will, then surely as Owen Meany we may not know how our story is to end or what will happen in route, but we, too, can be assured that we are "instruments of God."  It is time that we think about what a community so committed could mean.

This is how I see it; beyond the gunas living in the mystery of "signs."  Amen.