Posted by: pastor on 06/11/2009 08:50:52
Sermon from Confirmation Sunday
Faith: The New Frontier
It was nearly 40 years ago when “the eagle” landed on the moon, not yet a year after Apollo 8 became the first spacecraft to orbit the moon, advancing a giant leap into what President Kennedy had called “the new frontier.” Earlier generations of European immigrants to this country had journeyed to the unknown western frontier, while settlers before them had voyaged across oceans to a foreign land to establish a new home, a new life.
Individuals, too, venture out onto new frontiers, beyond what is safe—and known—and seemingly certain. A toddler explores the territory beyond the play-yard (we used to call them playpens) and later, the back yard. A five-year-old undertakes the social rites of passage in kindergarten. Adolescents tackle high school & young adults pursue education or undertake careers that transport them away from the familiarity of families of origin. Marriage, too, may be a kind of entry into foreign territory—into a new frontier of intimacy and mutual responsibility. And at dozens of junctures well into adulthood we are bidden to venture beyond accustomed habits and comfortable attitudes.
In the year that King Uzziah died (742 BCE) Isaiah was praying in the temple—a familiar place—but experienced the presence of God in an unfamiliar, terrifying & awesome way. The inner sanctuary of the temple—the holy of holies—becomes a vision of God’s heavenly court, the temple curtain the hem of God’s robes, and the burning coals of the altar seraphim surrounding the Lord’s presence. Such an intimate encounter was initially terrifying for Isaiah, and; but became the portal to a new frontier—his call to prophesy.
Nicodemus was a well-respected Jew—a member of the Sanhedrin, a religious elite, one who in all probability seemed, in the eyes of others, to be so well put together, so comfortable in his place, so well established so as to be envied. But Nicodemus felt a tug—a yearning. It was undoubtedly scary for him to question, to consider that there was more than he understood. But the yearning pushed him to step out—to consider that there was something more—something more in Jesus than met the eye. And so under the cover of night he ventured forth to meet him, to probe, to tiptoe toward a new frontier he could just barely glimpse.
“Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher come from God; for no one can do these signs that you do, unless God is with him” he addresses Jesus, attempting to stand on familiar ground. A godly teacher isn’t so awesome, right? But Jesus responds with a radical truth, “Truly…unless one is born anew/born from above, he cannot see the kingdom of God.” This is new territory—holy ground—that Nicodemus is bordering. And that’s frightening. So Nicodemus tries again to steer the conversation back to the ordinary: “How can one be born when he is old? Can one enter a second time into the mother’s womb and be born?” Finally Jesus speaks at length about the new life that he extends—life conferred by the untamable Spirit of God, as unruly as wind. The new life of which Jesus speaks—the life that Nicodemus senses, the life that Jesus holds out for you & me is the life of faith—and it is unquestionably a new frontier, unknown & unknowable apart from the gift of the Spirit.
Today five young people from this congregation: Elinor Holm, Thor Kirleis, Molly Pearson, Caroline Peta & Luke Sorenson, children of God, children who have been born anew in Holy Baptism, who have with the guidance of parents & godparents, pastors & teachers and fellow sojourners experienced this life, make public affirmation of our common faith.
It’s a crazy thing we do, a crazy thing to expect adolescents who are precisely at the stage of life at which their task is not to assent to the teachings of their parents, their elders, but to question everything that has been given them, to challenge what was heretofore accepted and thereby take steps toward establishing their adult selves. Perhaps, say some, we should invite this public profession of faith from children—nine- or ten-year-olds, before much real questioning begins; or otherwise wait a little longer—perhaps until they’re twenty-five (or 35 or 55 or 95), and the frontal lobe has really kicked into gear, and they can make an adult confession of faith.
As if. As if doubts and uncertainties ended then and there. As if this life of faith we share we not always—this side of heaven—a new frontier—a strange and wonderful territory—as mysterious as Isaiah’s vision.
The late theologian Joseph Sittler, in an essay in his little volume Gravity & Grace, has this to say about the faith of the Church: “It is the Jewish and Christian belief that we are meant for a selfhood that is more than our own selves—that we are by nature created to envision more than we can accomplish, to long for that which is beyond our possibilities…Faith is a longing. Humankind is created to grasp more than we can grab, to probe for more than we can ever handle or manage.”
And that sounds a little like Martin Luther’s explanation to the third article of the creed: “I believe that by my own understanding or strength I cannot believe in Jesus Christ my Lord or come to him, but instead the Holy Spirit has called me through the gospel, enlightened me with his gifts, made me holy and kept me in true faith, just as the Spirit calls, gathers, enlightens and makes holy the whole Christian church on earth and keeps it with Jesus Christ in the one common, true faith...” Or, as some have abbreviated it, “I believe that I cannot believe.” I believe that faith is Jesus Christ is greater than one can grasp.
Writing further in his collection of essays, Joseph Sittler describes teaching theology in a university setting—a decidedly secular location. Coming to the end of a lecture on the second article of the Nicene Creed, which describes the relationship of God the Son to God the Father, a student raised his hand and ventures, “You know, if it were true, it would do.” That is, it would be enough. It could be a truth large enough to satisfy our deepest human longings.
In this church today, five young people affirm that they desire to continue to grab at more, continue to venture deeper into the new frontier of faith, grow in their identity as disciples of Jesus. They affirm that, along with us, they have been led by the Holy Spirit to say that the Gospel story of God’s redemption of the whole world through this Jesus is a truth large enough to satisfy the human heart. However shakily they may make this confession, we rejoice.
And still more we rejoice in this: that God will continue to use them as God has used their mentors in faith, to be witnesses to God’s reign and guides for those who come, as Nicodemus, daring to approach this new frontier, approaching on tiptoe, hoping that it might be true. And if true, then enough. Amen.
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