For there is still a vision

11/3

"Cena" by Violeta Parra

On Marathon Sunday I make my way through subway delays and waves of runners surging through the streets for worship at Beverly Presbyterian Church. It's a crisp autumn Sunday morning.....

So…lots going on this weekend. Hopefully, we all turned our clocks back and enjoyed an extra hour of sleep. It’s Marathon Sunday with streets blocked off and thousands of runners passing through our streets and neighborhoods. (Hard to believe I was once one of them…once you have done that, through all five boroughs, you feel the city will always be a part if you..) For the church, this weekend we remember all the saints, all those who have come before us, so great a “cloud of witnesses” as they say.

It’s hard for me not to preach on the Luke passage. The story of Zaccheus has always been an important one  me. My grandfather Scott was not  a tall man, shorter than me. But he was tall in faith. A grocer by trade, he was an active lay member of his church. Sang solos. And led Bible studies. I remember his "Beulah Land." A few years ago, I found among family papers a reflection he had written, entitled “the Runt”. As a man of short stature, my grandfather identified with Zaccheus. As a businessman too. He had written a very poignant reflection on the Zaccheus story.

But  todayI am mainly drawn to the Habbakuk reading.  There’s a lot we still don’t know about Habbakuk…. Even the meaning of his name. But his book is filled with power still the same. Information in the text seems to place it in the late 6th Century BCE. We know that Habbakuk was a prophet. And the liturgical nature of his book suggests he may have been a temple prophet. Temple prophets are described in 1 Chronicles 25:1 as using lyres, harps and cymbals. Some feel that this is echoed in Habakkuk 3:19b, and that Habakkuk may have been a Levite and singer in the Temple.^[3].  , you might even say he was a singer-songwriter folksinger. He is very aware of the injustice of his own country and the way in which economic inequity and injustice is a form of violence that rends the fabric of a nation and makes it vulnerable. And the incoming invasion of the Babylonian empire imminent and inevitable. Exile is on its way.

We need to pay close attention to Habbakuk. His prophetic insight and vision  a gift to us. I am just back from Chile. My teaching experience got cut short by current reality. If you haven’t noticed in the news, Chile has been in turmoil these last few weeks. Chile is the perfect society for Presbyterians. Decency and order rule the day. It started out with something very small… fare increase for the subway system. Only about 4 cents US. But it was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. Students jumped the turnstyles. The president overreacted. The fine for fare evasion rose to $660 in a country where over half the people make less this $500 a month. People rose up in anger and a state  emergency was called, the country put under martial  law and a curfew imposed. The army called to the streets for the first time since 1973. Noone had anticipated this. Soon the streets of every city were filled with people. 

Habbakuk’s description of his society recognized that inequity itself is a form of violence. The issues that confront them should be familiar to us. Privatization. Income inequality. (Chile’s is the worst in the hemisphere, ours the worst it’s been since before the stock market crash of 1929. Student debt. Consumer debt. Cost of living. Minimum wage. Health care. Education.Pensions. People falling out of the middle class. A deep divide between people and their understanding as to how society should run. Long lasting “open wounds” that never heal. You can name them yourself. All these. And more. 

Destruction and violence are before me; strife and contention arise. 4So the law becomes slack and justice never prevails. The wicked surround the righteous-therefore judgment comes forth perverted.

And in all this God seems distant and far away.

So what does Habakuk do? He declares that he will “…stand at my watchpost, and station myself on the rampart; I will keep watch to see what he will say to me, and what he will answer concerning my complaint.”…

And how does God respond? 

Write the vision; make it plain on tablets, so that a runner may read it. 3For there is still a vision for the appointed time; it speaks of the end, and does not lie. If it seems to tarry, wait for it; it will surely come.

Yes. We are called upon to write the vision….and write it so plain and large that even the 65000 marathon runners running through our streets can read it plain and clear.  Maybe Habbakuk sings it, like the Chilean folksinger Victor Jara

Victor Para

sang it years ago….

our song

is fire of pure love,

it's a dovecote dove,

olive from an olive grove.

It is the universal song

chain that will triumph,

the right to live in peace

And even though he was executed 46 years ago, his music was present in every demonstration, never more alive. As Christians we should understand that … executed, but never more alive….

We have our prophet/singers too….Robeson, Woody Guthrie, Pete Seeger, Odetta…Bernice Johnson Reagon…

At this moment in the world ….voices are rising up all around us, “writing the vision, making it plain..” …in Chile, in Ecuador, Nicaragua, Baghdad, Beirut, Hong Kong, and yes, even here…

So what are we called to do? 

* To have a vision…inspired by our faith…shaped by our scriptures, our prophets, …can we forget the “ Beloved Community” of Dr. King? And above all our Savior….the vision that we are all NEIGHBORS called to stewardship of our world and each other…we need to be able to see that vision, feel it and speak it and live it…even when its accomplishment tarries…to wait with patience like Archbishop Tutu with the joyous smile on his face because he knew the victory is already won, whether the other side knows it or not…

If it seems to tarry, wait for it; it will surely come, it will not delay. …

And the righteous shall live why their faith…

That’s worth an Alleluia…

As we gather round this table today, let us summon the cloud of witnesses…all who come before ….in this place, and other places, other times…let us summon the faces of brothers and sisters around the world who make visions plain…who wait with patience…remember...this is a marathon, not a sprint...because we know who holds the future…and we know who holds our future…do not despair…God is in our midst.,…And walks with us … as Jesus walks with us as brother, companion, friend and savior. 

In the name of Jesus 
Amen

I hurry my way out to catch an Uber for my next assignment at First Chinese Presbyterian Church.  Serious mistake. the marathon has closed off too many streets....I arrive at the Chinatown church just as everyone is leaving.....

Sunday reflection 2: The runt

11/3

Write the vision; make it plain on tablets, so that a runner may read it.(Habbakuk 1:2)

Not a bad passage for Marathon Sunday. And it’s also the Sunday closest to All Saints so we begin with singing For All the Saints. And I remind everyone that in our tradition, we are all saints. (And of course, all sinners as well..)

John R says that the  references to violence and strife and perverted justice, justice delayed feels familiar to him. Feels like the society we live in.

And the prophet is called upon to write the vision so large even a runner can see it.  And it is our job to write it. And to keep watch.  As Dylan sang in All along the watchtower:

Outside in the distance a wildcat did growl

Two riders were approaching, the wind began to howl.

We have to keep watch. The righteous live by faith. Still a vision…for the appointed time…

We finish with the story of Zaccheus in Luke 19:1-10. How he was a tax collector. One who worked for the Roman occupiers. Who made whatever he was able to pry loose over and above the appointed tax.

How he was short. Easily lost in the crowd. Not seen. How what most of us need the most is just to be seen. And how he runs to get ahead, to see Jesus. Not just see him, but see who he was…

And instead Jesus looks up and sees him, and calls him by name. Like he calls us by name.

(Do we know what it’s like to be up a tree?)

And how the people grumble when they see Jesus go off with Zaccheus, this sinner. And how we love to grumble, to judge, to point the finger…To find someone to look down on. Knowingly. Sneeringly. We’ve lived on both sides of that equation.

Zaccheus’ words are usually rendered in the future: Look, half of my possessions, Lord, I will give to the poor; and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I will pay back four times as much. But the actual Greek is in the present. This takes away our expectation that one must repent or atone first. The grace, the gift, the acceptance is already there. Free. It is an action Zaccheus has already begun..

And Jesus makes it clear that this man, too, is a child of Abraham. And that he came for the lost. The lost in a crowd. The unseen.

And I tell my people about my grandfather. He was short, maybe 5 feet 4. (His mom was well under 5). He had to care for his mom and three sisters after his father got run over by the B&O train on the tracks near his shack. And then married a divorced woman with three children of her own already. How he had become the owner of his own grocery store then lost it in the depression. Had to go back to work as a clerk for his old boss. How he sang in the choir. And solos. And taught Sunday school.

I found a lesson he taught one time, neatly typed with handwritten notes. A lesson he called The Runt. The story of Zaccheus. Maybe my grandfather felt up a tree. Lost in the crowd. Unseen. Anyways, he saw himself in Zaccheus. I don’t remember anymore. But I remember that, The Runt.

It’s a communion Sunday. We join our voices with all the saints. Share the bread and cup. Close with 2 Thessalonians 4:1-4, 11-12.

The Session meets. Nothing more we can do. Today. Tomorrow night, the decision will be made.

Everyone has left. I wait for the Sanctuary NYC folk to arrive then remember they’re not here anymore. And I feel something missing. I tell Jane they were part of the rhythm, part of the flow. Like blood. Like air. They were there. A part of the body. Missed when gone.

Tonight I will join Hope and Kate and John R. We’ll serve a meal at the homeless shelter. Then I will go home. Search for sleep.