July 19, 1998

Rev. Eugene Nelson, Jr.

In the same year that AT&T executive salaries and job reductions were being hotly debated, it was noted that top executive salaries throughout corporate America were rising at around 15 or 20 percent a year, while worker's salaries were rising well under 3 percent per year. The result has been an unprecedented disparity in salaries within corporate America, and in fact many families have actually seen their real income decline, even as they are working longer hours. One economist has written, "When is somebody in America going to stand up and say it is wrong, just simply wrong, for executives to be making millions while their workers' salaries stagnate?"

Reflecting on all this, humorist Dave Berry wrote, "In a recent cost cutting move, AT&T fired all its employees. The only person left there is the CEO, who makes $257 million per year and spends his days squatting on the top of his desk fearfully clutching a letter opener, because the corporate headquarters, lacking even janitorial workers, is overrun by rats."

In a time of general economic prosperity, stock market up, lots of people making lots of money, it is easy to forget that millions of people do not share in this economic boom...that for some, things are getting worse. It's so easy to forget...or simply not pay attention.

Again this summer, I rode the train from Princeton to Newark, New Jersey. I rode it more than once. That train ride is not a bad illustration of America in the 1990's. It begins in Princeton, truly a seat of prosperity and wealth - beautiful homes, colonial architecture, the great university. I think you get ticketed for driving an American car there. It is a beautiful place - serene - a great place to do some summer studying. It is easy to see that many here have reaped a rich harvest from a booming economy.

As you head north, you pass by several corporate headquarters, including Johnson and Johnson, with its manicured grounds and well-maintained buildings. Johnson and Johnson is a good company known to be fair to its workers - a successful company - another shining example of nineties prosperity.

The train continues north. By the time you reach Rahway, the houses are older and much closer together. The streets have potholes. There are more apartments and more people of color. On a hot New Jersey day, as the train rolls by, you see a lot of people sitting outside. These houses don't have air conditioning. Many are still homeowners, but clearly not CEO's. It is easy to see that they have not experienced 15-20 percent increases in their income.

By the time you get to Newark you are in the midst of old factories with broken windows, no longer in use. Lots of boarded up buildings still - people in shoddy apartment buildings looking back at me as I look at them. Through one window, I saw dozens of women at work over sewing machines. I wonder what their take home pay is? Do you suppose anyone ever talks to them about health insurance? Newark also has its gleaming towers. It is the home of AT&T, ironically. There is money and success in Newark, but so much poverty, so much human misery. I confess I am happy to take the train back to Princeton.

Now at this point you might be thinking, "That's all fine and good pastor, but what does all this talk of poverty, wealth and corporate salaries possibly have to do with religion?" Well, according to Amos it has everything to do with religion. For, according to Amos, God takes great interest in issues of wealth and poverty, the way people are treated by an economic system, who is rewarded, who is left out. These are very much religious issues, spiritual issues, moral issues and issues which lead to some rather harsh and unforgiving words: "The end has come upon my people Israel...The songs of the temple shall become wailings in that day." Now this is a bright summer Sunday in Sebastopol. It is much too bright a day for a dark, gloomy prophet like Amos. It's more fun to watch the Giants lose a ball game than to listen to Amos. But, in spite of his unpleasantness and harshness, perhaps we should stay with Amos for a little longer. It just might be that he is saying something that a comfortable church like ours and certainly a comfortable minister like me, need to hear!

More than once I have been told that when preaching a sermon, there should not be a word of judgment without a corresponding word of forgiveness and grace. I guess no one ever taught that to Amos. His preaching seems all judgment...and a frightening judgment it is. God is fed up with Israel. This is it. There will be no second chances. God will no longer speak to the people. There will be a famine in the land - not a famine involving food, but a famine of the word. A terrifying thought for a people for whom the word of God was absolutely central.

Now, why is God so angry? What has happened? Has there been a failure in the people's worship life? Have they not observed the Sabbath, neglected prayer, played golf instead of attending church? Could be. We know that worship was an important pat of Israel's covenant with God.

Have the people started worshiping other gods? It's always tempting, particularly in times of peace and prosperity, to worship ourselves and the things we have made. Yeah, God is o.k., but I think I'll put my faith in Microsoft. Scripture asserts that our God is a jealous God and is not fond of the worship of other gods. Could Israel have been running after other gods? Perhaps.

Certainly these are all good possibilities, but in fact Amos mentions none of them. No, what has angered God so severely is pure economics. You thought economics was not a religious and spiritual issue? Think again. God is angered by an economic system which rewards the rich at the same time it victimizes the poor. And God is angered by a people who refuse to do anything about it. "Hear this, you that trample on the needy and bring to ruin the poor of the land, saying, 'When will the new moon be over so that we may sell grain and the Sabbath, so that we may offer wheat for sale?" The people can't wait to get out of church so they can return to the business of buying and selling grain at the highest possible profit. Even in church, they are filled with greed. There is no room for God to get in.

But it gets worse. Not only do they get rich, but they also ignore and even cheat the poor. They "practice deceit with false balances, buying the poor for silver and the needy for a pair of sandals, and selling the sweepings of the wheat." - not pure and healthy grain, but what has been swept up off the floor. According to Amos, the poor have become the virtual slaves of the rich, so horribly deeply in debt that they can never climb out. I think about the women in that Newark factory; how many hours do you think they spend each day at those sewing machines making clothes for you and me which they will never be able to afford to wear. "You trample on the needy and bring ruin to the poor of the land."

Amos makes it crystal clear: When the most vulnerable among us are treated unfairly - in the marketplace, in our politics, in our own hearts - we have committed the most grievous offense against God. When just one person - just one - is exploited, abused, mistreated, or ignored, not only is God's heart broken, but also God's anger is kindled - kindled to the point where God decides to turn away from God's people.

So what does all of this have to do with us? I suspect that none of us here are planning to go out on Monday morning and purposely cheat or oppress the poor. And yet, it is so easy, particularly in a beautiful place like Sebastopol, to be lulled into a state of denial. The economy is good, the job market is good, I'm doing okay. I'm not sure poverty is even an issue anymore, and, if it is, what can I do about it?

In 1989 Hubert Langford died in Brooks, Georgia. He was an elder in his local church, had served as town mayor and was for many years the owner of the local general store - a small businessman. It was the old-fashioned kind of place with big wooden counters where you could stop and buy a half gallon of milk and where children on their way home from school could buy a snack and even find a sympathetic, listening ear. Brooks, Georgia is a town of maybe 200 people. When the day came for Mr. Langford's funeral, over five hundred people gathered at the church. Why?

The week after his funeral, one of the columnists for the Atlanta Constitution shared a story about Hubert Langford, a story that provided an insight into the kind of man he was. She wrote about a time she got lost and found herself in Brooks, Georgia: "I went into the little store to ask for directions and to buy a coke. I found Mr. Langford there and I stayed for a conversation. A man came in through the front door and looked somewhat apologetic. He said, 'Mr. Langford, I need more credit. My children are hungry.' You would have thought Hubert was talking with the governor of Georgia, the respect he gave that poor man. I went in for a little drink, but my life was transformed."

We are judged, says Amos, not by how we treat those we know and love, but how we treat the weak and the poor and the vulnerable among us. Hubert Langford did not change the world, but it would seem that he did change the little corner of the world in which he lived.

Last March, there was a remarkable meeting in southern Illinois. Hosted by former Illinois senator, Paul Simon, it brought together a bewildering array of religious leaders, people as diverse as Pat Robertson from the Christian Coalition and John Buehrens, president of the Unitarian-Universalist Association. (I am amazed to think that the two of them would even sit in the same room together.) There were Baptists, Methodists, rabbis and even a leader of the Muslim American society. They talked about the faith community's response to poverty in America. As you can imagine, there was considerable disagreement and at times, considerable political posturing. But finally they did agree on this statement: "We call upon our state and federal governments to re-examine what they are doing as servants of all Americans, and we call upon congregations of every religious persuasion to examine their actions and inactions. Working with the poor is an essential part of the religious life and is an effective way of conveying what our faith compels us to do. We gather as people of faith to call upon citizens of all religious traditions to join in a common commitment to set free all those who are trapped in poverty."

Is there more we can be doing in volunteering our time as teachers or mentors, in job training and placement? Can the church work to find creative ways to meet transportation needs? What about child care or after school care for latchkey kids. Are there pro bono services church members can offer - medical, legal, financial? Can we broaden the outreach of the food pantry? What about affordable shelter and housing? What are we going to tell our legislators about the surplus in Sacramento? Are we just going to put it back in our own pockets? Our text is unrelenting. Says God..."You must do more."

One final word. I mentioned in the beginning that this text is only about judgment. Certainly grace and hope are hard to find when God says he will never speak to the people again. And yet, I believe there is some good news here. The good news is that curiously enough, God does not keep God's own word. Which is to say, God does not ever fall completely silent. It is as if God can't quite give up on us. So instead, God sends a straight-shooting prophet like Amos to speak to us. He sends a quiet saint like Hubert Langford to live among us. God speaks the truth and in that speaking of the truth, there is grace. For we are given the opportunity to receive the truth, to believe it and to change our ways. God does not leave us to our own devices. We are shown another way. The word of judgment is not easy to hear, but I suppose we ought to be thankful for it. For, in this sense, God's judgment is also our grace and our hope.