In the name of God ☩ Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
The point is that written instructions make all the difference. In fact, anthropologists say that it is written language that allowed for the development of human civilization. With writing, we could record and transmit information and knowledge across generations and distances. Writing is perhaps the most important technology ever developed, and it is essential to what it means to be a human. When it comes to faith, we can think of Scripture as something like those instructions to guide into encountering and walking with God.
Last Sunday, I mentioned that sermons leading up to Lent will be focusing on our worship – a sort of “why we do what we do” sort of series as I introduced the term “sacramental imagination.” It’s a way of opening our hearts and minds to the reality that the grace and love of God surround us at every moment of our lives. But our imaginations have been limited, constricted, and dulled to the point that we are often forgetful of the beautiful sacredness of life. For worship to do it’s holy work on it, it requires a robust “sacramental imagination.”
A culture that has had its imagined dried up and replaced with polarization, outrage, and entitlement is one that we saw on display this past week. After a robust liturgy at the National Cathedral this past Tuesday, President Trump’s comment was “The service was a very boring and uninspiring one.” Sadly, and predictably, the Inaugural Prayer Service has become the subject of partisan rancor.
Martin Luther King said, “In the end, we will not remember the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.” Dietrich Bonhoeffer noted that, “Silence in the face of evil is itself evil: Not to speak is to speak. Not to act is to act.” And Oscar Romero preached that, “A church that does not provoke crisis, a gospel that does not disturb, a word of God that does not touch the concrete sin of the society – what kind of gospel is that?” King, Bonhoeffer, and Romero – all prophets and martyrs who, like the Old Testament hero Esther, trusted that God had brought them into a time such as this, a time that necessitated bold and holy truth-telling.
Today’s sermon is about worship, not politics, so the rest of that thought can be finished later. But, beloved, we cannot be silent when it comes to issues of mercy, compassion, justice, and love. Scripture is quite clear on this, and Jesus said it plainly to his followers, “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” May the Holy Spirit grant us courage and wisdom to be known for our love, for our imaginations that remain open to wonder, surprise, and joy.
To be clear, if it had been President Harris and not President Trump who said of the Prayer Service that it was “very boring and uninspiring,” I’d be saying the same thing – that it’s a sign of our impoverished sacramental imagination. Worship is not about our entertainment, it is not about preferences, it isn’t even about our needs. No, worship is about encountering the God who is.
And because that is the point of worship, the way we worship is done purposefully and deliberately, relying on the experience of those who have come before us as we listen for the movement of the Spirit in our own day. One of our identity statements at St. Luke’s is “intentional worship,” meaning both that we are a part of a tradition that values worship that is theologically informed and deliberately planned, and that our worship is done with the intention of mediating an encounter with God.
What makes this possible is that at the very foundation of our intentional worship is Holy Scripture. Put simply, the Bible is a library that records how people have heard and responded to the Holy Spirit’s stirrings. It’s actually easier to say what the Bible is not – it’s not the literal words of God, as it is not God dictated. And this clears up an obvious problem with some understandings of Scripture. Scripture cannot be the fullness of God’s revelation to us because Scripture is bound by human words and language. But God is bigger than our thoughts and words. So, Scripture even if it is primary, is but one of many ways of knowing God.
This is what we heard in Psalm 19: “The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament shows his handwork.” This is called “natural theology,” in which we can deduce certain things about the Creator from looking at Creation. But ours is a God of love, and love desires relationship, and so God condescends to us, allows the divine to be spoken about in human language. And the Bible is a record of how God has been known and encountered. But, again, Scripture isn’t a transcript of God’s words, it is how God’s activity and speech were understood and recorded by humans; humans who did their best to faithfully capture their experience, but who are still bound by the limits of our humanity.
For this reason, it’s been said that Scripture is a signpost, not a hitching post. Meaning, Scripture tells us which direction to go, but it’s not the end of our faith and worship. We do not worship the Bible, and we aren’t even accountable to the Bible, instead we are to be guided by it. As one Psalm puts it, the Word of God is a light unto our path. The point though isn’t to worship the lantern, it’s to walk the path.
Scripture is how we hear the promises of God and God’s faithful commitment to them. The Bible is where we find the inspiring witness of Hagar, Ruth, Daniel, and Mary. As the composter of the first Book of Common Prayer, Thomas Cranmer, put it, “Scripture is most healthful medicine for our ailments.” When we need to be guided in the way of hope, Scripture bolsters us. When we need reproof and correction, Scripture can chasten us. When we need comfort, Scripture assures us of God’s gracious love.
This is why Scripture is so central to our intentional worship. Yes, we read a passage from the Old Testament, Psalter, New Testament, and Gospel each Sunday, but our liturgy is even more Scripture-soaked than that. Depending on where one draws the line between a quotation and an allusion, the Prayer Book works out to being about 75% Scriptural. Meaning that the vast majority of what we hear and say in liturgy is Scriptural.
And this is a deeply Biblical pattern – hearing Scripture read in worship. In Nehemiah, we heard about the people who gathered at the dedication of the Temple and they heard the law of Moses, what we would call Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy, read aloud. Hearing Scripture read in community is an ancient practice of faith and something that I’m glad our tradition values.
Yes, I’ll admit that sometimes we hear passages read and I think to myself “I’m not preaching on that passage, and it’s sort of long, it’d be sort of nice to skip it.” But that might be the passage the Spirit will use to speak to you. Today, maybe you get nothing out of this sermon, but the passage from First Corinthians, which I’m not at all focusing on, is what you need to hear. Because when Scripture is read, watch out, we might find ourselves with the Holy Spirit conscripting us into action.
We read so much Scripture because our faith is unintelligible without all of it being there. We must understand that our faith didn’t begin with Jesus, but rather with Creation and the call to Abraham and Sarah. If we are to follow Jesus, we need to know the Scripture that he knew. We see that at play when Jesus quotes from the prophet Isaiah to describe his own ministry.
The Psalms are essential because they give voice to the human experience and emotions of faith. The Psalms are often quoted by Jesus and praying with the Psalms has been a part of Anglican spirituality for centuries.
We read a New Testament passage, often a portion of a letter, because the pages of the New Testament guide us in thinking about how we apply the Good News of the Resurrection to our lives. And we always include a Gospel text because the gospels are the story of Jesus, our Savior and Teacher. Could we get away with less Scripture? Probably. But that’d be like asking if we can have Thanksgiving without the stuffing or the cranberry sauce.
And notice that when Scripture is read in Nehemiah, it notes that he is standing above the people and that they stand when it is read. Our liturgical postures and architecture say something about Scripture as well. For one, the readings of Scripture are done from the lectern. Sure, the readers could just stand up front and read from a bulletin – but we intentionally give prominence to the sacred act of reading and receiving Scripture. Our Prayer Book teaches us that “Scripture contains all things necessary for salvation.” Indeed, it is a treasure trove, and so we treat it accordingly.
The Psalm is often chanted or sung, or at least said together because the Psalms were musical compositions. Unfortunately, we don’t have any of the tunes that were used in the Temple, but the musical aspect of the Psalms connect with the deep emotions often found in them.
And then we have the Gospel – which is always read after a procession to the middle of the congregation. We do this because Jesus taught among the people. Just as the Word of God was made flesh and came to us in Jesus, when we read the words of Jesus’ life, we proclaim those words from within the congregation. We ask that you stand, as able, during the reading of the Gospel out of a sense of reverence and gratitude for these words of life.
And then comes the sermon. In Nehemiah, we heard that they read from the book, with interpretation so that the people could understand the reading. And in Luke, we heard Jesus offer a very short sermon based on the text from Isaiah. You all know that I teach preaching at Hood Seminary and whatever the title of the class is, the first session always includes a discussion around the question “what is preaching.”
It’s actually rather hard to define because the sermon is not simply commentary or explanation. Lecture, lesson, speech, or address aren’t synonyms for “sermon.” To be sure, proclamation and application are a part of it, but not the whole of it. The way I describe the sermon is that is a part of a continuing conversation – the preacher studies Scripture, the recorded conversation between God and the people, then the preacher has a conversation with the Scriptures, the Spirit, and those who have studied the passage through the millennia. Then, in the sermon, the preacher has a sacred conversation with the congregation, and, importantly, the conversation then continues between you and the Holy Spirit and one another. Sermons are holy conversations.
We preach because God is still speaking. Now, I’m not the one doing the preaching because I have unique insight or knowledge that you don’t. I’m not the one in the pulpit because I have the right interpretations. Rather, I’m in this pulpit because God has called people like me to preach, and the Church has validated that call, and entrusted me with the time, resources, and duty of spending time in prayer and study in order to speak in the name of God.
And that’s why I’m in this piece of furniture that we call a pulpit. Other than the Altar, it’s the fanciest piece of architecture we have, because the sermon is serious business. But I hope you’ll notice that the base of the pulpit sits on the floor of the nave. Yes, I enter it through the chancel, on the “clergy and ministers” side of the Quire screen, but it stands in the nave. This is intentional because, ultimately, the Word of God is for and belongs to the people, not the clergy or Church hierarchy. I preach not to build my reputation and not to earn your praise, but rather I preach because the Holy Spirit has blessed me with words of life to offer for the sake of our community. To be clear, I am as much of a hearer of the sermon as anyone else, it’s just I entered the conversation with the Spirit on these texts earlier in the week. But there’s no hierarchy in preaching – we all are addressed by the Word of God.
We are intentional about steeping ourselves in Scripture as we worship so that might encounter the God of love who, as our Collect this week reminds us, is calling us to “proclaim to all people the Good News of Jesus’ salvation, that we and the whole may perceive the glory of his marvelous works.” Scripture soaks our imaginations with the sacred. For this Word of God, given to us, the people of God, we say “thanks be to God.”
