Are All Your Sons Here?
Sermon
Sermons On The First Readings
Series II, Cycle A
I remember sixth grade as though it were yesterday. Those shy, awkward times when we were all sliding down the slippery slope of adolescence. The young people I was growing up with, including myself, were walking this line between childhood and adulthood. One day we would step on one side of the line, and on the next day we would fall down on the other. There was no plan or intention about any of it. We were, of course, new at this stuff. Our bodies were changing; expectations of the world around us were growing. It's a bittersweet memory.
Perhaps, most clear in my mind, was the day they took us to the gym for square dancing. The teacher hauled out an old phonograph player and placed a scratched and warped square dance record on the turntable. He then lined the girls up on one side of the gym, and the boys on the other. The girls were then allowed to select their dance partner for the upcoming square dance. It was unbearable. These strange creatures began cautiously walking across the shiny wooden floor, eyeing their potential victims. Each young boy was trying to look at the floor while seeing if any of the young ladies might actually come in their direction. The horror of the scene was underscored by the lose/lose nature of it all. We were all young enough to admit -- at least to ourselves -- that we'd rather be just about anyplace else. We really didn't want to dance with the girls. But the truth was that the only thing worse than dancing with them was the prospect that no one would pick you!
The lucky one, we thought, was the guy who had been sent to the office earlier for passing notes in class. He, at least, was missing this slow, drawn-out torture. But even his luck failed him. One of the girls stopped, and looked around. She then padded in her sock feet over to the gym teacher and said, "Not all the boys are here." The teacher's knitted eyebrows surveyed the scene. He then nodded and sent one of the kids down to get Scottie, who had thought he was safe in the office. Upon his return, of course, the sock-footed girl snagged him as her dance partner. Who knew what she saw in him? He was, like the rest of us, pimple-faced and clumsy, but she saw something no one else saw.
Adolescent memories aside, there's something to be said for lining those boys up, I suppose. After all, if the boys had been allowed to pick, nothing would ever have happened. As it was, we each ended up with a partner, but the sock-footed girl noticed that her guy wasn't in the lineup.
There are lots of ways that we get lined up in this life, aren't there? We begin, not just with a sixth-grade gym class, but with the lineup of Jesse's sons to see which one might be favored for leadership. One after another, the sons are examined and dismissed until the question comes. "Are all your sons here?" Just as the sock-footed girl noted, it was clear that not everyone was in the room. David, of course, had not been sent to the office. But the truth is, it really didn't occur to anyone that he would be under consideration. Who would pick David? He was, after all, the youngest. We left him watching the sheep.
So David was sent for, and the rest, as they say, is history.
There's an old story about Martin Luther King Jr., and I am not sure if it's accurate or not. The story goes that he missed a meeting one day, and it was at that meeting that they put him in charge of the Montgomery bus boycott. Once again, the rest is history.
I wonder, in all the lineups we have to endure in our lives, how many folks are missing from the room? I think about when we lined up to go to college. It was actually the application process where we sent applications to our first choice, second choice, and then our "safety" school where we hoped our chances at acceptance were better than good. It was many years later that I discovered some kids in our school didn't apply because their families couldn't afford even the application fees, let alone tuition. Were there young people "not in the room" because of economics or family circumstances? You bet. Were there young people not in the application pool because of race or ethnicity? Probably so, but I never noticed.
When I lined up for my first real job, it didn't occur to me to be thinking about the Scotties or the Davids who might be under the radar for a whole host of reasons. I just wanted a job. I was thinking about me. Let the other guys take care of themselves, right? I filled out the application, showed up, and when they actually hired me, all I thought about was making sure they didn't have a reason to fire me. It never dawned on me that there might be some people who were either down in the office, or off in the field tending sheep.
So much of our lives is about this lining up to be chosen, isn't it? From those halting, uncertain days of young adulthood into our years of work and family raising, it happens over and over again. From meeting partners and spouses, to building careers, to becoming involved in church and community life, it seems that we spend a lot of time in line with someone checking us out to see if we fit the bill for this or that. With so many people in line, who ever really stops to think about who is not in the line up?
It seems to me that, in this life journey, we need the sock-footed girl and Samuel. We need the ones who will notice that someone is missing.
It's a question that we need to ask across the arc of our lives, isn't it? In our life as a church, "Are all our sons and daughters here?" Who is it that we have left out in the pasture, who just might end up being the best leader we can imagine? Who is it that's not at the table because it simply doesn't occur to us to invite them? Moreover, who is not with us because we have not made it comfortable for them to be present?
Are all our sons and daughters here? Sadly, we have to say, "No." Too many of our sons and daughters are not with us in the church today. Some of them are missing because we haven't counted them as important enough to involve. These are the young folk, without whom there is no church. Are we bringing them in from the pasture and including them in the lineup? Are we building ministry and mission for them? Are we providing care and comfort, education and vision? If the answer to these questions is "No," then we can rest assured that these young ones will find other things to do.
In an evermore diverse world, let us look around to see who is missing. Do we allow our own secular, cultural roots to define the community of faith? If that's so, let us hear the words of the apostle Paul telling us, "There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus" (Galatians 3:28).
Are all our sons and daughters here? Look at the neighborhood in which our church is located. Are these people participating in the life of faith? Are these people included in our invitation to discipleship? Are these people being served by our ministries?
Dear friends, in Christian community, we do not have the luxury of simply lining up and not noticing. In Christian community we need to lift up the example of Margaret. That was the name, by the way, of the sock-footed girl who noticed that Scottie was missing. We need to lift up the example of Samuel, who asked the question, "Are all your sons here?"
If, as we all know down deep, all of our sons and daughters are not present, then we have to conclude something else. We are not whole.
When I sit down to dinner with my family and my son happens to be playing at his friend's house, it feels like we are not whole. His smile, sense of humor, and his particular individual take on the world are missing at our family table, and we feel it. The same is true for us as Christian community. If all our sons and daughters are not present, then we are not whole.
The evangelistic effort, you see, is a two-way street. Of course, we wish to share God's saving word in Christ. Who doesn't? But that's only half the story. Because the whole truth is that we need the participation of everyone in the community of faith. The whole truth is that we ourselves are incomplete when all our sons and daughters are not with us. Whether it is the literal sons and daughters who fall away from church because of our inattention and lack of focus, or whether it's the sons and daughters in our wider community who are not even on our radar, their absence touches us. We are less without them.
Are all our sons and daughters here? Let the invitation go forth that everyone who is a son or a daughter is welcome in our church. Let the doors fling open and let our eyes scan the horizon. Let the people of God grow in wholeness and welcome as we reach out in love and hope to places and people we may never have thought of before.
And in all of it, sisters and brothers, may we each try to be a little more like Samuel, or Margaret, as we strive to notice who is not at the table of fellowship with us. Amen.
Perhaps, most clear in my mind, was the day they took us to the gym for square dancing. The teacher hauled out an old phonograph player and placed a scratched and warped square dance record on the turntable. He then lined the girls up on one side of the gym, and the boys on the other. The girls were then allowed to select their dance partner for the upcoming square dance. It was unbearable. These strange creatures began cautiously walking across the shiny wooden floor, eyeing their potential victims. Each young boy was trying to look at the floor while seeing if any of the young ladies might actually come in their direction. The horror of the scene was underscored by the lose/lose nature of it all. We were all young enough to admit -- at least to ourselves -- that we'd rather be just about anyplace else. We really didn't want to dance with the girls. But the truth was that the only thing worse than dancing with them was the prospect that no one would pick you!
The lucky one, we thought, was the guy who had been sent to the office earlier for passing notes in class. He, at least, was missing this slow, drawn-out torture. But even his luck failed him. One of the girls stopped, and looked around. She then padded in her sock feet over to the gym teacher and said, "Not all the boys are here." The teacher's knitted eyebrows surveyed the scene. He then nodded and sent one of the kids down to get Scottie, who had thought he was safe in the office. Upon his return, of course, the sock-footed girl snagged him as her dance partner. Who knew what she saw in him? He was, like the rest of us, pimple-faced and clumsy, but she saw something no one else saw.
Adolescent memories aside, there's something to be said for lining those boys up, I suppose. After all, if the boys had been allowed to pick, nothing would ever have happened. As it was, we each ended up with a partner, but the sock-footed girl noticed that her guy wasn't in the lineup.
There are lots of ways that we get lined up in this life, aren't there? We begin, not just with a sixth-grade gym class, but with the lineup of Jesse's sons to see which one might be favored for leadership. One after another, the sons are examined and dismissed until the question comes. "Are all your sons here?" Just as the sock-footed girl noted, it was clear that not everyone was in the room. David, of course, had not been sent to the office. But the truth is, it really didn't occur to anyone that he would be under consideration. Who would pick David? He was, after all, the youngest. We left him watching the sheep.
So David was sent for, and the rest, as they say, is history.
There's an old story about Martin Luther King Jr., and I am not sure if it's accurate or not. The story goes that he missed a meeting one day, and it was at that meeting that they put him in charge of the Montgomery bus boycott. Once again, the rest is history.
I wonder, in all the lineups we have to endure in our lives, how many folks are missing from the room? I think about when we lined up to go to college. It was actually the application process where we sent applications to our first choice, second choice, and then our "safety" school where we hoped our chances at acceptance were better than good. It was many years later that I discovered some kids in our school didn't apply because their families couldn't afford even the application fees, let alone tuition. Were there young people "not in the room" because of economics or family circumstances? You bet. Were there young people not in the application pool because of race or ethnicity? Probably so, but I never noticed.
When I lined up for my first real job, it didn't occur to me to be thinking about the Scotties or the Davids who might be under the radar for a whole host of reasons. I just wanted a job. I was thinking about me. Let the other guys take care of themselves, right? I filled out the application, showed up, and when they actually hired me, all I thought about was making sure they didn't have a reason to fire me. It never dawned on me that there might be some people who were either down in the office, or off in the field tending sheep.
So much of our lives is about this lining up to be chosen, isn't it? From those halting, uncertain days of young adulthood into our years of work and family raising, it happens over and over again. From meeting partners and spouses, to building careers, to becoming involved in church and community life, it seems that we spend a lot of time in line with someone checking us out to see if we fit the bill for this or that. With so many people in line, who ever really stops to think about who is not in the line up?
It seems to me that, in this life journey, we need the sock-footed girl and Samuel. We need the ones who will notice that someone is missing.
It's a question that we need to ask across the arc of our lives, isn't it? In our life as a church, "Are all our sons and daughters here?" Who is it that we have left out in the pasture, who just might end up being the best leader we can imagine? Who is it that's not at the table because it simply doesn't occur to us to invite them? Moreover, who is not with us because we have not made it comfortable for them to be present?
Are all our sons and daughters here? Sadly, we have to say, "No." Too many of our sons and daughters are not with us in the church today. Some of them are missing because we haven't counted them as important enough to involve. These are the young folk, without whom there is no church. Are we bringing them in from the pasture and including them in the lineup? Are we building ministry and mission for them? Are we providing care and comfort, education and vision? If the answer to these questions is "No," then we can rest assured that these young ones will find other things to do.
In an evermore diverse world, let us look around to see who is missing. Do we allow our own secular, cultural roots to define the community of faith? If that's so, let us hear the words of the apostle Paul telling us, "There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus" (Galatians 3:28).
Are all our sons and daughters here? Look at the neighborhood in which our church is located. Are these people participating in the life of faith? Are these people included in our invitation to discipleship? Are these people being served by our ministries?
Dear friends, in Christian community, we do not have the luxury of simply lining up and not noticing. In Christian community we need to lift up the example of Margaret. That was the name, by the way, of the sock-footed girl who noticed that Scottie was missing. We need to lift up the example of Samuel, who asked the question, "Are all your sons here?"
If, as we all know down deep, all of our sons and daughters are not present, then we have to conclude something else. We are not whole.
When I sit down to dinner with my family and my son happens to be playing at his friend's house, it feels like we are not whole. His smile, sense of humor, and his particular individual take on the world are missing at our family table, and we feel it. The same is true for us as Christian community. If all our sons and daughters are not present, then we are not whole.
The evangelistic effort, you see, is a two-way street. Of course, we wish to share God's saving word in Christ. Who doesn't? But that's only half the story. Because the whole truth is that we need the participation of everyone in the community of faith. The whole truth is that we ourselves are incomplete when all our sons and daughters are not with us. Whether it is the literal sons and daughters who fall away from church because of our inattention and lack of focus, or whether it's the sons and daughters in our wider community who are not even on our radar, their absence touches us. We are less without them.
Are all our sons and daughters here? Let the invitation go forth that everyone who is a son or a daughter is welcome in our church. Let the doors fling open and let our eyes scan the horizon. Let the people of God grow in wholeness and welcome as we reach out in love and hope to places and people we may never have thought of before.
And in all of it, sisters and brothers, may we each try to be a little more like Samuel, or Margaret, as we strive to notice who is not at the table of fellowship with us. Amen.
