“Semper Reformanda: Write the Vision”

Sermon by the Rev. Caela Simmons Wood
First Congregational UCC of Manhattan, KS
October 30, 2016 - Habakkuk 1:1-4; 2:1-4

We seem to have lost our way. As a nation, I mean.

I can’t be the only one in this room who has recently had hand-wringing conversations about how messed up the United States is right now. As a child, I learned all the appropriate patriotic stuff in school. I was taught that this was the greatest nation in the world. The first to be founded on democratic ideals - with liberty and justice for all. Our ancestors were people who stood up for what was right - often at great cost - to ensure that we could all be free.

Of course, things are never quite as simple as they seem when you’re in elementary school. I’m a little embarrassed to admit that it really wasn’t until university that I started to put together a more nuanced version of what it means to claim this nation as my home.

Because, of course, it’s hard to really argue that we’re the greatest nation on earth. You can take essentially every single measurable item you can think of and we won’t be number one. Except perhaps in military spending and number of people locked up in prison. We’re number one at those.

And, yes, we were founded on democratic ideals. But this idea of freedom was initially for a very limited group of people - white, propertied males. And though people have fought and bled to expand the promise of freedom to others, it’s been a long-time coming and is still very much a work-in-progress.

And, yes, some of our ancestors did stand up for what is right. Some of them even did it for the right reasons. But even those who did the right things for the right reasons often did it in problematic ways. We don’t have to look any further than the founding of our own congregation to see that reality. Yes, we should be proud that our faith ancestors came here from “back East” as a part of that great movement of Congregational Abolitionists - people who left everything they knew to come to the Kansas Territory to ensure it would enter the Union as a Free State. A noble and important cause. But! At the same time they came to this place they knowingly displaced people who had already been living here for generations. The Kaw Nation already claimed this place as their home. Who were these white folks to show up and start building houses and churches and railroads without their permission?

So it’s complicated. And when I hear talk of “making America great again” I usually wonder - so at what point in history, exactly, are we planning on turning back the clock? To 2010 when some of us in this room wouldn’t have been allowed to marry the person we love because they’re the same gender as us? To 1950 when people who look like me wouldn’t have been allowed to divorce an abusive husband or make basic decisions about my own healthcare? To 1920 when people who are black had to use separate bathroom facilities and couldn't vote in most parts of the South? Or further back, I guess? Do we need to go further back to find some mythical time when this nation was perfect?

That mythical time doesn’t exist, of course. And I don’t mean to be overly hard on the U.S. That mythical time doesn’t exist anywhere. Because as long as humans have been alive, we have been terrorized by our own fear and anxiety. That’s not new. That’s just being human. It takes a lot of work to continually appeal to our mammalian brains and override our amygdalae. It’s natural to be afraid and self-centered. We’re hard-wired for it.  It’s a lot of work to choose to think of others first and to be brave.

It’s not uncommon for humans to lose their way.

The prophet Habakkuk wrote in a time when his nation had lost its way. We don’t have a lot of clear historical information about who exactly Habakkuk was or his context, but it’s pretty clear from the opening words of this book that he and his people were lost:
O Lord, how long shall I cry for help, and you will not listen? Or cry out to you, ‘Violence!’ And you will not save?

We may not know much about Habakkuk, but I kind of love this guy. I love his cranky back-and-forth banter with God. He reminds me a bit of Job. He opens with gusto: “Hey, God. What’s up with this? Why is everything terrible and you don’t seem to care? Can’t you see us suffering over here?”

Besieged in a world gone mad, the prophet takes his weary self up to the top of the rampart - the city’s protective walls - and stands watch. He stands watch for God’s answer. Waiting. Waiting.

We don’t know how long he waits, but he eventually receives a word from God. An answer to his complaints. And the word is this:
Write the vision. Make it plain enough that someone can read it even when they’re on the run. For there is still a vision for this appointed time. It speaks of the end. It does not lie. It if seems to be slow in arriving, wait for it. It will surely come.

And this vision comes from…..where? From God. The vision comes from God.

The vision for God’s Realm of Peace with Justice is not to be found in the U.S. Constitution. It’s not to be found in the Declaration of Independence. I’m not saying those documents don’t contain important truths. They do. But it is my belief that when we are sitting around, dreaming of who we might be as a people - it is not those documents that call us into being and show us the way. God’s vision is way too big to be limited by paper documents enshrined in the Library of Congress.

When I feel frustrated, confused, enraged, hopeless. When I’m cranky and mad at God, wondering how in the world we got ourselves into this mess and how in the world we’re going to get ourselves out of it….when this is my state (as it often is these days) I find that I need to get myself up to the rampart to watch and wait for God to speak.

It’s funny how getting up high, somewhere with a different vantage point, can really shift your perceptions. I’ll never forget the first time I flew in an airplane. I was fifteen years old. And when we took off and flew higher and higher, I craned my neck to look out the window. Everything looked completely alien to me. The trees - the trees that loomed so large when I was on the ground - suddenly looked like little models. Toys! And the massive highways that carried big cars and trucks from place to place suddenly became minuscule. After a while, I couldn't make our houses or cars or people at all. All that was left was clouds.

When you shift your vantage point, everything changes. I think it’s wise to take ourselves up to the rampart from time to time. To seek out the prophets who hang out there, looking at the world from a very different angle. Because the prophets - like them are not - are the ones who speak to us clearly of God. They are the ones who share God’s vision and make it plain enough for us to understand. They are the ones who move us forward, always dreaming and scheming of how we can make the world more closely align with God’s Realm of Justice and Peace for All.

You may have noticed in the bulletin that there’s some Latin in today’s sermon title. “Semper Reformanda” means “always reforming.” Karl Barth brought this phrase to prominence after World War II. He and other European theologians were grappling with how to repent for their failure to stop Nazi Germany’s rise to power. Barth spoke of the church as being reformed, but always reforming. The Reformation, which we celebrate and remember today, was not a one-time thing.On Reformation Sunday we remember our heritage as Protestants - literally Followers of Jesus Who Protest. Our faith ancestors were trouble-makers. The legend of Martin Luther nailing his complaints on the door of the church lives on because it makes such a dramatic scene. “The church is messed up and we’re not gonna take it anymore!” he said. And people listened. The man was bold enough to believe that he could go up against the entire Roman Catholic Church and change it. And he was right.

The Catholic Church changed as a result of the vision set forth by Luther - a complicated and very imperfect priest. And new churches were formed, new ways of understanding God were born. The Reformation is not something that happened once. That spirit of renewal is still alive today in churches around the world where people aren’t afraid to ask big questions, make serious complaints, and dare to dream that God’s not done working through the Church just yet.

There are prophets all over the place. In fact, there are some sitting in this room today. Prophets are not always the old white dudes who get most of the credit in our history books. Prophets are also people like Malala Yousafzai, who was only 11 years old when she started speaking out against the Taliban and what they were doing to girls in her country. Though she was young and completely unknown, she spoke with great clarity and power. She said, “I am those 66 million girls deprived of education. I am not a lone voice. I am many. Our voices are our most powerful weapon. One child. One teacher. One book. One pen. They can change the world.”

The thing that prophets have in common is this: they have a vision and they can make it plain. They are singularly focused on a vision of what the world can become. And that singular focus - that ability to paint a picture of what can be - that makes all the difference in the world.

My yoga teacher always reminds us to pick a focal point on the floor or the wall when we’re doing balance poses. I’m often standing there, flailing about, listening to a bunch of chatter in my monkey mind and then I hear her voice gently reminding me to pick a place and focus. And once I find that spot on the wall and put my attention there, my body stops wobbling, my mind finds peace. I am in the moment. Not anxious. Just present and breathing. It’s a really good feeling.

Prophets are the ones who remind us to get up to the rampart and shift our perspective. They are the ones who show us, through their example, to pick a focal point and stay with it. They remind us to listen and listen hard for God’s vision. And once we hear it, to write it down, make it plain so it can be amplified and shared with others.

This world we live in is LOUD. There is a lot of chatter. Not just in our own monkey minds but everywhere. Our boss has some opinions. There are deadlines to be met. Our kids (tiny or grown) clamor for our attention. And the news! An endless cycle of chatter about any and everything, especially the most negative things because that’s what seems to sell. The world is LOUD.

And so we come to this place where we are reminded to stop. Take a breath. Get up to a different place where we can shift our perspective. Tune out the noise. Listen instead for God’s voice. And then write it down, share it with others.

We are the heirs of reformation. Reformed and always reforming. Daring to dream that there is still a vision for our time. Hoping against hope that God is not finished with us yet.