Lent 5, Year C – March 25, 2007
Isaiah 43:16-21; Philippians 3:8-14
St. Giles Church, Northbrook IL – The Rev. Cynthia J. Hallas
Each of us has memorable moments in his or her life. Such a moment might be the fulfilling of a long-held dream, or a moment of clarity about a vocational choice; the beginning or ending of a significant relationship or the loss of a special person in our lives; perhaps a time when we decided either to give our life to God, or to rededicate ourselves to God’s service.
Groups of people – communities, nations, races, religious institutions – have defining moments as well. Think of the signing of the Declaration of Independence or the fall of the Berlin Wall; think of a disillusioned, angry monk nailing 95 theses to a church door in Wittenburg, of an African American woman remaining seated on a bus, of a tentmaker blinded by the Light while on his way to Damascus.
Moments like these become part of our individual and collective histories. Put quite simply, they define us, they help make us who we are. These defining moments are lodged in our memories, and become a part of our psyche or our culture or our identity.
For the people of Israel, the Exodus was just such a defining moment. The Lord, the God of their ancestors, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob – as God had self-identified in the burning bush story we heard two weeks ago – had heard their cries in bondage, had called forth a leader for them, and had led them, miraculously, out of slavery in Egypt and into the land promised to them. Everything that had happened to the people of Isael since that time is seen in the light of their deliverance out of Egypt. That moment is strong in the collective memory of God’s people.
But now, it seems that all God’s people have are memories. They are in exile in Babylon, driven there by their own disobedience and their abandonment of God’s call on their lives. Exile was traumatic and tragic; it was grim and heartbreaking. But God had not abandoned them. So God sent prophets, prophets like Isaiah, to re-mind the people (that is, put back in their minds how and why they had gotten to their present, sorry state), and to re-call them (that is, call them again into their true status and identity as God’s people).
This same God who led them out of Egypt, who had delivered them in the past so gloriously, would do so again. Words of conviction and memory followed by words of hope and promise:
Thus says the Lord, who makes a way in the sea, a path in the mighty waters, who brings out chariot and horse, army and warrior; they lie down, they cannot rise, they are extinguished, quenched like a wick:
(yes, indeed, that’s the Exodus story and God’s part in it. But that’s just the intro, a way of reminding them who God is, a parallel to God’s self-identification in the burning bush episode. God continues):
Do not remember the former things, or consider the things of old. I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?
Now, wait a minute. Doing a new thing is all very well, but what does the Lord mean, Do not remember the former things, or consider the things of old? How could Israel not remember the parting of the Red Sea or the destruction of their pursuers? How could they forget, or fail to consider this crucial, defining moment in their history? Wouldn’t the act of ‘not remembering’ be disrespectful to the One who had delivered them? This event had made them who they were. Was God really asking them to let go of all that memory?
Well, no, not exactly. What God is asking, requiring of Israel, is not to put the past totally out of mind, but to put it in perspective as the past. Stop enshrining the past, stop living off that memory, God says; stop thinking your best days are behind you. It’s as if God is saying of the Exodus event, ‘You think that was something; just wait till you see what I’ve got in store for us in the times to come.’ It’s important to emphasize relationship. God is doing this for and with the people. I am about to do a new thing, God tells them, now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? It will happen now; it will happen right before their eyes, deliverance will come again. God will make a way in the wilderness of their exile; with God there is always a way, even when the people cannot see it for themselves. Will the people have the faith to perceive it, to accept it, to follow and embrace it?
I want to consider this text in light of our common life here at St. Giles, because I believe that God is about to do ‘a new thing’ here. I believe there is a spirit of renewal and excitement coming to this parish. It isn’t only the visible things that are going on: the new porte-cochere, the re-landscaping, the creation mural in the Education Building though these are certainly wonderful signs. And it isn’t only that I’ve noticed it. A significant number of you have mentioned that you perceive it as well. I believe that after a period of searching and exploring, of getting acquainted and building trust and community together, God is telling us it’s time for ‘a new thing.’
The Vestry had a wonderful and productive retreat last weekend. We talked about our parish mission statement: what it says, what it means, how we understand it, and how it might be implemented more fully in the parish. Our facilitator, the Rev. Al Johnson of St. Michael’s in Barrington led us through sessions where we discussed how to get better connected to one another through God’s call to us, rather than through loyalty to a building or an institution.
We came up with questions to be considered: What do we need to give? What do we need to give up? What’s negotiable? What isn’t negotiable? What must we be about? In giving up what needs to be given up, we must trust that something new and good will result – we must believe that indeed, God is about to do ‘a new thing’.
And that’s the challenge, the ‘tough stuff’, isn’t it? Giving up, surrendering what has to be surrendered. Just as God did with the Israelites, so God is telling us: Do not remember the former things, or consider the things of old. I promise you this doesn’t mean ignoring the past. We’re coming up on 50 years in this location on Walters Avenue, in this building – some of you remember when this church sat in the middle of a cornfield – and we are going to celebrate that history in the coming year. So many, many, many good things have happened within and because of this faith community. But we will celebrate our history with an eye, a faithful eye, toward the future. That means bringing those questions the Vestry discussed to you, the people of St. Giles. It means that we stop wondering how to fix and/or continue to maintain those programs than no longer serve us well and as we give thanks for what they’ve allowed us to do in the past, let them go, and make room for something new that will better serve us and our neighbors. It’s time to take a good, long, and critical look at who we are as a community, to be willing to hear God’s word afresh, and to be open to a whole new way of seeing ourselves as a community of faith.
God promises that we can expect ‘a new thing’ and asks us to perceive it. It is, at its heart, an issue of faith. If we don’t expect God to do that ‘new thing’ to regenerate us; if we cannot perceive it, if we are not willing to participate in it, then we’re not being faithful. It’s that simple. It’s part of our responsibility at witnessing to the Good News. I was struck by a quote used in the materials for the Lenten Quiet Day yesterday, from the writings of the Benedictine nun Joan Chittister: When we start listening to the Word of God, people have a right to expect something new of us… people have a right to expect something new of us….[1]
At the end of the Isaiah passage we read this morning, God speaks of ‘my chosen people, the people whom I formed for myself so that they might declare my praise.’ That is why the people of Israel were brought into a community of faith; that is why we are here as a community of faith. How we continue to do that, in thought, word, and deed, will be part of the new thing that God will do among us. The time is here, the time is now – God is waiting, and eager, to have us hear his voice, calling us to participation in that new thing.
[1] Wisdom Distilled from the Daily: Living the Rule of St. Benedict Today. San Francisco: HarperCollins, 1990.