“Somebody’s Knocking”

Jonah 3:1-4:4

Sermon by the Rev. Caela Simmons Wood

October 8, 2023

This one isn’t in our hymnal, but let’s see if anyone knows it and can sing along with me:

Somebody’s knocking at your door. 

Somebody’s knocking at your door. 

Oh, sinner, why don’t you answer? 

Somebody’s knocking at your door.

Well, if the “somebody” knocking is God, I think we might all know why you might not want to answer. 

Have you ever had that experience of hearing a still small voice….telling you something you don’t want to hear? When we hear that little knock at the door of our hearts telling us to reach out and do something difficult, mend a relationship, give our time or money ... .well, sometimes we cover our ears because we don’t want to answer the door, right? 

The prophet Jonah is the poster boy for not answering the door. God’s voice comes to Jonah, telling him to go to Nineveh and bring a message of warning. And Jonah just turns right around and runs the other way. So keen is Jonah on running away from God’s invitation that he jumps onto the next boat he can find. And this is where things get a little weird. 

Before we dive in, though (see what I did there?), a couple of words about what this story is...and what it isn’t. As a child, I was scared of this story. After all, the idea of God sending a giant fish to swallow up a man wasn’t particularly soothing. I remember puzzling over how this could possibly BE. And when I became old enough to understand that it couldn’t BE, that giant fish don’t just swallow people and then spit them back up again, I came to the conclusion that it wasn’t a TRUE story and I should just set it aside.

 

That, of course, was a big mistake.

 

When we set aside stories because we think only “true” stories matter, we miss out on something very important, which is that truths often come to us in stories that are not factually accurate. Just because something didn’t happen, doesn’t mean it isn’t true. Stories, allegories, metaphors, myths…they all contain great truth. Theologian Marcus Borg used to talk about the way a good story can convey MORE truth than just a factual, accurate accounting of “what really happened.”

 

Those who heard the story of Jonah long ago would have immediately known it wasn’t based in fact. For one thing, it’s too darn funny to be a historical recollection of a prophet’s life. The themes are larger than life. It’s a parody of prophetic literature. Once you’ve read a lot of the prophets in the Bible, you read Jonah and you laugh out loud because the author mimics that style of literature so well.

Jonah is meant to remind us of other prophets who weren’t thrilled with God came a-knocking on their doors: Moses and the burning bush, Elijah running away, Jeremiah wondering, “who, me?”

So when our anti-hero Jonah runs away from God he’s reminding us of a lot of other people. He’s just doing it on a much grander and more hilarious scale.

Eventually, all’s well that ends well in this particular story. After the spectacle of near-drowning and near-digestion by a fish, Jonah is vomited up onto dry land. And he decides that if this God of his is going to be SO VERY ANNOYINGLY RELENTLESS he might as well just go to Nineveh and get it over with. He does what he’s supposed to do in a sort of halfhearted way, strolling through the city casually yelling, “Forty days and Nineveh will be overthrown!” and….it works. The people listen. They repent. The city is saved. 

Jonah’s reluctance to say yes reminds me of phone call I received from our then-Conference Minister Edith Guffey back in 2019. She was preparing to retire and asked me if I would enter the six-year presidential cycle for the conference. My immediate reaction was to run the other direction. It’s not that I didn’t care about the conference or that I wasn’t honored to be asked. It’s just that I was busy. And felt like board leadership wasn’t really my thing. And then, you know, it was a SIX YEAR COMMITMENT. That felt like an lot. 

I didn’t say no immediately.. I told Edith I needed time to discern. After talking with family, colleagues, friends, and lots of prayer, I decided I would accept because I felt my skills could be useful in this time of transition. Little did I know that a pandemic was just around the corner and my life was about to get a whole lot harder. Little did I know….much of anything. In fact, I feel like I’m only now - our years into this gig and just finishing up my role as president - kind of getting the hang of things.

Real talk: there have been times in the past four years when I’ve felt like running away from this commitment I made. I’m sure no one else here can relate. But I stayed the course and have learned so much. Last weekend,I joyfully passed the gavel to the next president and I moved into my two-year term as past-president. 

When I looked around the room at the KO annual meeting, I felt such a deep, abiding love for the people there. People who were there because we care about the church. All of us there because we heard a knock at the door and decided to answer. The people who serve in conference leadership are folks with full-time jobs and other volunteer obligations and family commitments. People like our own Janet George who took a vacation day to attend Annual Meeting (on top of all the other things she already does for our church and community here in Manhattan!). The clergy there work as local church pastors or chaplains or have retired after many years of service. Some of them are bivocational pastors - working another full-time job during the week and then stepping into a pulpit every weekend. 

The conference is not unlike our own congregation. Every year we make a budget and every year we wonder how we’ll find the funds we need to do the ministry we feel called to do. Every year we prayerfully discern how to best steward our time, energy, money. This year we had a particularly robust and faithful conversation about the conference budget which resulted in a nomination from the floor to increase the amount budgeted for our part-time Associate Conference Minister. While we aren’t quite sure where we would find the money to do that, the delegates felt strongly that we need to invest in that role so we can expand our ministry. It wasn’t an easy conversation but it was rich and respectful. At one point there was even a call from the floor for people to make pledges - “who can commit to $100 a month? $50 a month? $25 a month?” When the meeting was over, I went to the KO website and decided to make a regular pledge for 2024, whereas in the past I’ve always given sporadically. As I’ve served in leadership roles with the conference I’ve come to understand how important it is for those who make the budgets to have a clearer sense of people’s plans so they can steward our resources faithfully. 

Like us, our conference is a faithful, scrappy group. Despite being one of the smallest conferences in the UCC, we continue to make immense contributions to the wider church.. Our part-time staff members are regularly tapped to serve in part-time roles in other conferences because they do what they do so well. Our Conference Minister Lorraine Ceniceros serves on so many national boards I’ve lost count. Lorraine is one of THREE people from KO serving on the National Board of the UCC. THE national board of our denomination, which is chaired by Julia Gaughan, who serves as the part-time pastor of Peace Church in Alma. 

The conference is full of congregations like ours, who are Loving Loudly and working for justice. There are congregations that march in Pride parades and clergy who show up relentlessly at the state houses to advocate for LGBTQ+ folks. There are clothing drives, and period product drives, and food drives, and community meals, and fundraisers for disaster relief. When Tulsa had that terrible storm earlier this year people spontaneously sent money so Fellowship UCC to help their community. There are after school programs, and ministries to queer folks who are in jail, and pub theology gatherings, and anti-racism work, and relieving medical debt, and groups that care for people who have been through religious trauma. There are youth service trips like the ones our youth took to Albuquerque and children’s Christmas pageants and support groups for parents. Some of our smallest churches have done incredible things - Partridge Community Church started a community garden this year, open to anyone in their small town; Carbondale UCC built a labyrinth on their grounds and invited everyone to come use it; and our friends just up the road in Marysville have been lay-led this year since their pastor retired. While doing the hard work of searching for a new pastor they’ve also revitalized their children’s and youth ministries, and hosted a sacred arts series.

During the month of October as we  consider our gifts to our congregation, I found it so uplifting to be with people from the wider church. To know that we’re not alone in our desire to use the resources we have to make the world a more loving and just place. We aren’t alone in trying creative ways to Be the Church in this time of rapid change. At one point during the meeting, I was placed in a small group of local church pastors for a “holy conversation.” All of them are dear friends, people I call on regularly when I need support. We spoke openly about the challenges and joys of ministry. Hearing the ways my colleagues continue to feel called to ministry despite the challenges was life-giving. I hope my gushing about the beautiful things the Spirit is doing here at First Congregational also helped sustain their spirits. 

At one point in the conversation we were asked to share ways that we were giving and receiving through our own congregations. One of the other pastors talked about how she has been increasing her own financial giving to her congregation over the years, trying to increase a percentage or so of her income each year. She said she’s now up to 8% and wants to keep going because she feels joy when she gives to her congregation. 

I know that feeling, too. Every year when I turn in our family’s pledge card, I do so joyfully because I am so honored to minister alongside all of you. I give thanks for the one who keeps knocking on our doors, drawing us outside of our comfort zones, and knitting us together in love.