August 16, 1998
Rev. Eugene Nelson, Jr.
The Community Church of Sebastopol
Hebrews 11:17-31; 12:1-2
Several years ago, basketball player Scott Wedman was traded from the then Kansas City Kings to the Boston Celtics. Now he had liked playing for the Kings o.k., but was thrilled when he learned he was going to be a Celtic - part of what was then still a very successful franchise, one of the most successful in the history of professional basketball or any professional sport. Wedman said that when he first donned a Celtic uniform, went out on the court, and looked up at all those championship banners suspended from the rafters in ancient Boston Garden (since replaced with a new arena), it had an uplifting effect on him. He said, "It was as if the 'ghosts' of past Celtic starts were up there cheering on the current players...The legends urged us on to do our best."
The legends urged us on. In any endeavor, from basketball to church to family, what would we do without the legends?
Walker and me and fishing. He urged me on.
And isn't this the message the church hears in the Book of Hebrews? We aren't sure who wrote this letter or when it was written, although there are hints that it was written by someone in the generation following that of the apostles - first century? The letter argues for the superiority of Christ - his ministry, his priesthood, his sacrifice. And, as we heard today, it offers repeated exhortations to remain faithful. Thus it must have been addressed to a church under persecution or to a church that for some reason found its faith wavering. The author of the letter says, "Wait. Before you give up or give in, consider those who have gone before you, those who suffered and endured so much for the faith, who remained faithful even though they did not see the fulfillment of the kingdom of God. They went before you and they surround you now - a great cloud of witnesses - urging you on. So let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us."
Surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses. I realize that such language may sound a little strange, perhaps a bit out of date in the late 1990's. Wednesday night - Stressed Eric." Adult cartoon. Father raising two kids, balance work, family. Calls his estranged wife about coming to watch son in nativity play. She refuses, suggesting that all her life she has sacrificed for others. She is not going to allow Eric to make her feel guilty about not going to see their son because right now, in her words, "I need to take a swim in the lake of me."
"A swim in the lake of me." - great line. It is such a nineties sentiment. As you have heard me say before, we live in a time, which has witnessed the triumph of the autonomous individual. My desire to do or have something has become my right to do or have something. I am all that I need. My feelings, my needs, my opinions are all that matter. Certainly on AM talk radio and in Internet chat rooms, opinions are now elevated above facts; rumors above truth. What counts is my perspective, no matter how factually inaccurate it may be. And, in a world of cyberspace, fax machines, e-mail, cell phones, ATM machines, it would seem that our world of shared experience is shrinking. More and more I can tailor my world to my needs; thus I need you less and less. And in a tailor-made, individualized world, where my opinion and needs reign supreme, who needs a great cloud of witnesses? At times it seems that we in church are speaking an obsolete language.
Ah, but then I think of our family friend, Walker. I think there is a bit of him with me every time I cast a line into the water. I think of my sister, Sharon, taken from us far too soon. She was so passionate about justice, about the poor, dispossessed, oppressed. Whenever I get a bit timid, uncertain about taking a stand, worried about ruffling too many feathers, she is there, a legend urging me on...the past calling me into the future.
The same is true in our life as a church. Over 40 years ago, this was a very small church in a building on Main Street that was literally falling down. A small group of people rose to the challenge - had a vision - relocated on the site where we are now...way out of town. No one is going to go all the way out there to church! What a risk they took! They must have wondered how they ever would afford it. They must have wondered if they were crazy.
But they did it and we are what we are today in part because of their faith. We haven't done this by ourselves. We stand on their shoulders. Would w have begun the Memorial Hall project without them? How often were we reminded of the faithfulness of those who came before us as we went through our decision process. In a very real sense, the legends urged us on.
Then, after we began, we lost some very important people - people who had provided inspired leadership - Harry Caldwell, Earl Wilson, Jack Gerboth and our chairman, Ed Bawden. We lost them, but we didn't lose them. Through the ups and downs of the process, I know that I and many on our committee felt them with us, urging us on. I could close my eyes, can still, and see Ed Bawden, sitting there watching as the walls of Memorial Hall went up. No quit in him. Memories like that, memories of the saints, keep me going, challenge me to remain faithful.
The legends, that cloud of witnesses, remind us that this is not just our story, our church. They remind us that we are pat of a greater story which began long before we appeared on the scene and will continue long after we are gone. And they remind us that we don't exist in some kind of autonomous ? vacuum. They have lessons to teach; they provide a foundation upon which we can build
Take one step further and suggest that the great cloud of witnesses is not only composed of those who went before us, but also includes those who share life with us now. See the back of your bulletin:
Here I stand, O God.
Alone.
Alone with my problems and my sorrows,
Alone with my decisions,
Alone with my responsibilities,
Alone with my hope.
Alone.
Except -
Except for a friend who promised to pray for me,
Except for family and dear ones, past and present, who lend me their strength
Except for Jesus who lived and died for me
Except for the community that Jesus calls his own body.
Here I stand, O God,
Not alone.
Here I stand
Surrounded by the great Cloud of Witnesses.
What a blessing it was to have Rod Folendorf with us in worship last week following his stroke and hospitalization. (I still can't believe he had a stroke at a Giants game where they were actually winning!) He told me, as I'm sure he told many of you, that he lay in the hospital, wondering if he would get well, he felt our prayers, our love, our strength...the great Cloud of Witnesses.
Following the painful memorial service for Megan White and Chrissy Hagle in our sanctuary, Megan's stepmother, Suzanne, came up to me, gave me a hug and said, "What do people do who don't have a church family to fall back on? How do they get through tragedies like this?" Other members of family had similar things to say, including the Hagle's who we kind of adopted as our own. What could we say in the face of such great tragedy? What could we do? I'm sure many of us felt totally helpless. I know I did. But, we were here, we were present, and that helped...helps still...a great cloud of witnesses.
As old-fashioned and out of date as such language sounds, I still firmly believe that we are not created to live as autonomous individuals, living in a world defined solely by our needs and our opinions. Each and every one of us needs a cloud of witnesses, urging us on, lifting us up when we fall, bringing us back when we lose our way, like the ??? reminding us who we are.
William Muehl of Yale Divinity School, once told this story: "One December afternoon many years ago, a group of parents stood in the lobby of a nursery school waiting to pick up their children after the last pre-Christmas session. As the youngsters ran from their lockers, each one carried the 'surprise' - the brightly wrapped package on which the class had been working for weeks.
One small boy, trying to run, put on his coat, and waved to his parents all at the same time, slipped and fell. The 'surprise flew out of his grasp and landed on the tile floor with an obvious ceramic crash.
"The child's first reaction was one of stunned silence. But then he set up an inconsolable wail. His father, thinking to minimize the incident and comfort the boy, patted his head and murmured, 'Now that's all right. It really doesn't matter, son. It doesn't matter at all.'
"But the boy's mother, somewhat wiser in such situations, dropped to her knees, swept the boy into her arms, and said, 'Oh, but it does matter. It matters a great deal.' And she wept with her son."
Sometimes we just need someone to weep with us. A great cloud of witnesses - a parent, a community, the silent witness of those who went before us. We need it. I'm not sure we can be fully human without it.