Scripture:
To live in a way that is welcoming of God is a challenge. Scripture offers hints of what such a life would look like -- and suggests that God greatly values this sort of hospitality. Hear now the Gospel according to Matthew, reading from chapter 10, verses 40-42:

"Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me. [41] Whoever welcomes a prophet in the name of a prophet will receive a prophet's reward; and whoever welcomes a righteous person in the name of a righteous person will receive the reward of the righteous; [42] and whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple--truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward."

The challenging story of Abraham's sacrifice of Isaac -- our text for this morning -- must be considered in context. Not long after Abraham and Sarah are joined, God promises Abraham that his descendants will be as numerous as the grains of sand. Their great hope fades as time passes, and Abraham and Sarah grow old. The drama increases. How will God make good the promise? Finally, at very old age, Sarah gives birth. God's promise is kept. A sigh of relief is heard . . . But in the next chapter, God again sends Abraham into crisis. I read from the 22nd chapter of the book of Genesis, beginning with verse 1:

After these things God tested Abraham. He said to him, "Abraham!" And he said, "Here I am." [2] He said, "Take your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains that I shall show you." [3] So Abraham rose early in the morning, saddled his donkey, and took two of his young men with him, and his son Isaac; he cut the wood for the burnt offering, and set out and went to the place in the distance that God had shown him. [4] On the third day Abraham looked up and saw the place far away. [5] Then Abraham said to his young men, "Stay here with the donkey; the boy and I will go over there; we will worship, and then we will come back to you." [6] Abraham took the wood of the burnt offering and laid it on his son Isaac, and he himself carried the fire and the knife. So the two of them walked on together. [7] Isaac said to his father Abraham, "Father!" And he said, "Here I am, my son." He said, "The fire and the wood are here, but where is the lamb for a burnt offering?" [8] Abraham said, "God himself will provide the lamb for a burnt offering, my son." So the two of them walked on together.

[9] When they came to the place that God had shown him, Abraham built an altar there and laid the wood in order. He bound his son Isaac, and laid him on the altar, on top of the wood. [10] Then Abraham reached out his hand and took the knife to kill his son. [11] But the angel of the LORD called to him from heaven, and said, "Abraham, Abraham!" And he said, "Here I am." [12] He said, "Do not lay your hand on the boy or do anything to him; for now I know that you fear God, since you have not withheld your son, your only son, from me." [13] And Abraham looked up and saw a ram, caught in a thicket by its horns. Abraham went and took the ram and offered it up as a burnt offering instead of his son. [14] So Abraham called that place "The LORD will provide"; as it is said to this day, "On the mount of the LORD it shall be provided."

Sermon:


Carl Lewis -- the most decorated athlete in the history of track and field -- made the Olympic team by one inch.

Janet Evans -- defying the decades old trend to tap swimmers in their mid teens -- picked up her goggles after a long break, and made the Olympic team.

Dan O'Brien, who faced the demons of four years ago when he "no heighted" the pole vault and failed to make the 92 Olympic team, proved that his "choke" was an exception.

Mary Decker Slaney--immortalized for us all when her dreams of a gold medal flew from her grasp as she tripped on the heel of barefoot Zola Budd in the 84 finals ... after a bearing a child; after over 20 surgeries on her legs; after having been ranked as one of the world's greatest runners for 22 years ... Mary Decker Slaney courageously walked on to the track and after drifting 10 yards behind the lead pack with only one lap to go, poured on such a sprint that victory was in her reach; until she was jostled, and almost tripped, by a woman who was born the year Mary gained her first world ranking. And as the stadium watched breathlessly as she gained her balance, she finished second, and made the Olympic team.

Finally, Dan Janson, who went to Calgary carrying the mantle of Eric Hyden, and learned -- the morning of his featured speed skating event -- that his sister had died of Leukemia. Dan Janson went to the starting line, only to lose his concentration part way through the race, and fall. A few days later, still filled with grief and shock, in an event that was not his best, he was skating for gold at a world record pace, when he caught an edge of his skate and found himself sliding on the ice in disbelief. Four years later, when Dan Janson crossed the finish line to capture a gold medal, my wife was so overcome with tears that she had to pull her car over until she could stop crying for joy. And who can forget his victory lap with his 2 year old daughter on his shoulders.

These great athletes each risked everything that mattered to them to put themselves to the ultimate test . . . one last time. All were world record holders. All were among the all time greatest in their sports. Yet they longed to be tested. They longed to learn again the lessons which are only available when we push ourselves beyond our limits, venturing into new territory, willingly risking the known and unknown threats. And they hoped beyond hope that possibly, even glory could again be gained. These and other athletes know the truth behind the cliché "Nothing ventured; nothing gained."

Most of us, in our younger years, were risk takers. Risk taking goes hand in hand with youth, because when you're young, you are little aware of what you have to lose. But many of us have lost our desire for adventure. We have learned to weigh the options before us, especially those that involve risk. As we become older, risk usually becomes more and more difficult.

Now these themes of risk, testing and glory all come together in the reading you have just heard. Let's examine the story of Abraham. The saga of God's call and Abraham's response is one of the most haunting in all of scripture.

Let us first ask: how are we to understand Abraham's behavior in this story? Some interpreters focus on Abraham as the paragon of faith. Abraham is seen as God's most obedient and faithful servant because he was ready to do God's bidding, however crazy it may have seemed.

I reject this interpretation. I find it impossible to conclude from reading scripture that God asks of us blind obedience; and however much that may seem to be the case here, I do not believe that Abraham experienced himself as blindly obeying God's request. We must remember that the incident we are wrestling with occurs relatively late in Abraham's life, after decades of faithful interaction with God. There have been many tests along the way. Many times, Abraham has had to take risks. What distinguishes Abraham is that he encounters the challenges of his life in the context of his relationship with God.

Many people are unable to do this because they are not secure in their faith. In difficult situations, such persons find themselves questioning their faith, rather than benefiting from the support it can offer to help them meet the challenge. Faith in God does not, and cannot, insulate anyone from the challenges, difficulties and risks of life. What faith does is to provide the Christian with the confidence to move ahead when confronted with life's obstacles. Abraham was faced with the ultimate obstacle--that he himself would destroy his own son, and that in doing so he would be destroying the very dream which God had promised. Yet it was not an option for Abraham to forsake his faith in God.

• As our faith deepens and develops, we realize that God is by our side when we are called to face the challenges of life.
• As our faith matures, we realize that God does not protect the faithful from tragedy.

Quite to the contrary, as last Sunday's Gospel proclaimed, Jesus assures us that because we are disciples, we can expect that we will experience some kind of persecution. If we are following our Lord, we can pretty much count on the fact that along the way, we too will be alone in the Garden of Gethsemane; we too will climb the hill of Golgotha, burdened by a heavy cross.

A faithful life, then, is risky business. As Paul reminds us, faithful Christians should not expect God to spare them from life's hardships. Like everyone else, faithful Christians encounter tribulation, distress, persecution, famine, nakedness, peril and martyrdom. But we encounter these threats, all the while knowing that nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

There's another dimension of this story I want to lift up. Many interpreters find this story so profoundly upsetting that because of it, they lose all hope of ever believing in God. While some people draw comfort from the fact that the narrator tells us that it is only a test, these interpreters focus on that as the problem--for how can we be expected to continue to pledge our allegiance to a God who tests his faithful servants in so frivolous and self contradictory a fashion? Furthermore, these interpreters find Abraham's silent obedience to God's unjustified and violent request repulsive. Who, they ask, would want anything to do with a religion that holds up such a story as the fullest expression of faithfulness?

This interpretation I reject as well. It is based on what I think is a common misunderstanding of God. God does not accept the role that so many of us would put God in. God has no interest in assuring the faithful that they will lead lives which are pain free and glory filled. God tests the faithful. In fact, it seems that a case can be made that the more faithful a person is . . . the more severe the test. Think for a moment of Job's unimaginable torture. Recall Jesus being tested by the Devil in the desert. And in today's reading, we encounter the inconceivable test of Abraham.

Any athlete can tell you that the years of preparation for an event like the olympics are worthwhile only because along the way, the athlete is given the opportunity to discover something new about herself. These epiphanies occur only when she is tested beyond what she thought to be her limits. In the context of trial and testing, a new depth of identity is reached. Only by taking great risks can she approach that painful "sweet spot" (which is not an oxymoron). From much personal experience I can assure you that there is really very little glory in sports -- but among the best athletes, there is an almost unlimited amount of sacrifice.

If you are searching for a religion which is only glory, you had better look elsewhere. For as Christians, we know that no ram was offered as a substitute for God's only son. If we are to claim Christ's name as our own, we must live through the cross, looking to the resurrection -- and not look to the resurrection alone. The Good News of the Gospel is that God did not remain "in the remote protection of heaven, far from the struggle of Earth. On the contrary, God came into our life through God's Son and here he drank to the full the cup of suffering, temptation, and sorrow." [Proclamation B, Lent, p. 15] When Jesus calls us to take up our crosses he speaks with authority because he bore his own cross first, and because the love of God is uniquely revealed in the suffering and self sacrificial love which Jesus' life exemplifies.

When we suffer, or someone else suffers, many of us find ourselves rehearsing age old questions about God. If God is all good and all powerful, how can there be suffering? Since there is suffering, either God is not all powerful . . . or God is not all good. I do not believe that there is an intellectual defense of the faith which can satisfy this question. I do believe, however, that Paul answers this question when he concludes that none of the adversities of life and death can separate us from God's love. Paul's assurance emerges from the heart and not from the head. Let me illustrate with a personal story.

Twelve years ago, I coached a bike racing team at Northfield Mt. Hermon School--and on that team was a talented young man who went on to compete internationally. He was also a deeply spiritual person, and we worked together on many projects in addition to cycling. I remember a conversation we had on a long ride about 8 years ago. As you can imagine, if you're riding 70 miles with someone, you have plenty of time to talk rather deeply -- and since I often ride with younger people, it's to my advantage to bring up challenging questions so that I can catch my breath!! He told me that while he still believed in God, he couldn't see how God could permit the suffering of the world. His question was deep, and sincere. He longed for an answer.

When I returned from that ride, I received a call from a close friend--a member of one of my former congregations. He had just been told that he had prostate cancer ... that it was inoperable, and that highly qualified Doctors could not agree on the path of treatment. Yet in the midst of his shock, pain, and confusion, his voice had a radiant and triumphant quality to it.

My young friend was wrestling with the question of suffering on an intellectual level alone. I had little to say to him on that level.

My older friend had found the answer that so many of us still seek. Because he had experienced the love of God in his life for a long time, he had an answer to the suffering he faced. It was not an answer that could be neatly summarized, but it enabled him to approach life and death victoriously. That is what we gain in believing in a religion of the cross.

Too often we try to have it both ways. We pursue the gain, but shrink from the pain. We think that we should be credited for faithfulness by attending church and responding to the familiar calls from God (like helping out our elderly next door neighbor, writing a special note to someone in the hospital, or raising our children without war toys). These are certainly indications of faithfulness, and are not to be dismissed. But when God calls us to something unexpected--when we're asked to bear what we experience as a cross -- we shrink. We claim that we are already doing God's work.

In response to this difficult text, I would challenge you to press yourself by asking whether you have accepted the cross that God has placed before you.

• Is there an enemy in your life whom you are actively trying to make your friend?
  
• Are you actively struggling to live more simply and to redirect some of your resources to God's work on behalf of the poor?
  
• How much time each day do you spend in dialog with God through prayer or scripture reading?... For many of us, making a daily time commitment to God would feel like a weighty cross indeed.
  
• And when was the last time you allowed your life to be touched by someone who is really poor and destitute? If we enter into dialog with God, whom do we encounter? What we know from the witness of God's son is that God is not impersonal and distant, perched on some kind of comfortable deck chair, watching over his children as they drown and suffer in a sea of despair. We must envision our God on a cross.
  
  

Let me conclude with a story which, like a picture, speaks a thousand words: ["The Long Silence" (slightly adapted), quoted in John R. W. Stott's The Cross of Christ, p. 336f.]

At the end of time, billions of people were scattered on a great plain before God's Throne.

Most shrank back from the brilliant light before them. But some groups near the front talked heatedly--not with cringing shame, but with belligerence.

"Can God judge us? How can God know about suffering?" snapped a pert young brunette. She ripped open a sleeve to reveal a tattooed number from a Nazi concentration camp. "We endured terror...beatings...torture...death!"

In another group a black boy lowered his collar. "What about this?" He demanded, showing an ugly rope burn. "Lynched...for no crime but being black!"

In another crowd stood a pregnant schoolgirl with sullen eyes. "Why should I suffer," she murmured. "It wasn't my fault."

Far out across the plain there were hundreds of such groups. Each had a complaint against God for the evil and suffering God permitted in this world. How lucky God was to live in heaven where all was sweetness and light, where there was no weeping or fear, no hunger or hatred. What did God know of all that people had been forced to endure in this world? For God leads a pretty sheltered life, they said.

So each of these groups sent forth their leader, chosen because that person had suffered the most. A Jew, a Black, a person from Hiroshima, a horribly deformed arthritic, a child who had been tortured. In the center of the plain they consulted one another. At last they were ready to present their case. It was rather clever.

Before God could be qualified to be their judge, God must endure what they had endured. Their decision was that God should be sentenced to live on Earth--as a person!

"Let God be born a Jew. Let the legitimacy of God's birth be doubted. Give him a work so difficult that even his family will think him out of his mind when he tries to do it. Let Him be betrayed by his closest friends. Let Him face false charges, be tried by a prejudiced jury and convicted by a cowardly judge. Let him be tortured.

"At the last, let him see what it means to be terribly alone. Then let Him die. Let Him die so that there can be no doubt that he died. Let there be a great host of witnesses to verify it."

As each leader announced his or her portion of the sentence, loud murmurs of approval went up from the throng of people assembled.

And when the last had finished pronouncing the sentence, there was a long silence. No one uttered another word. No one moved. For suddenly all knew that God had already served the sentence...

When we are tested -- by circumstances or by our own choice -- when we take risks--whether to discover something unknown about ourselves or to help another--we can be confident that we are accompanied by a God who has first hand, in the flesh experience of whatever trial or tribulation we may encounter. It's easy to thank God in the midst of triumph. But we may also thank God in the midst of every adversity and challenge, for God's compassion gives us the support we need.

Amen.