Pie In The Sky
Stories
Lectionary Tales for the Pulpit
Series VI, Cycle C
Object:
Do you like to eat? I do. I like food! And it shows. Unfortunately, food does not like me and the result is I am always on a diet. I think I have always been on a diet and I will always be on a diet, or I will get as big as a house or as the more politically correct language of the day has it, I will be "a gentleman of size."
I have always believed that there is profound theology in this constant "battle of the bulge" I fight: It proves to me that there is a heaven ... because there is no justice in this world. Why should someone as wonderful as me have to constantly worry about what he eats? Why should I gain six pounds by looking at a slice of pizza or sampling a teeny-weeny piece of cheesecake when so many killers and thieves and rapists can eat anything they want and never gain an ounce? Because there is no justice in the world! But someday, the upside down will be turned over, the inside out will be reversed, the wrong will be made right. And when I get to heaven, I will be able to eat anything I want and I will be skinny, because the Bible says there will be no tears in heaven, and if I am not skinny, I will cry!
No, there is no justice in the world. But that is really no laughing matter. That is one reason we gather from week to week for worship. We need to hear God's good news in the midst of all around us that is bad. We need to hear once more the story of the resurrection, the affirmation that life does not end with death. We need to hear once again that God is in charge in this world despite all the evidence to the contrary. The cynics will call it "pie in the sky," but we need to hear it just to keep going one more day.
Do you know where the phrase, "pie in the sky," comes from? It is found in a parody of the old gospel hymn that many of us sing, "In The Sweet Bye And Bye." It was written by Joseph Hillstrom, a labor organizer at the turn of the century for the radical Industrial Workers of the World. Joe Hill (as he was known) was furious at the plight of those on the bottom of society's ladder, and he expressed his anger on picket lines, in bar room brawls, and even in verse. He called his song, "The Preacher And The Slave."1
Long-haired preachers come out every night,
Try to tell you what's wrong and what's right;
But when asked 'bout something to eat,
They will answer with voices so sweet:
You will eat bye and bye,
In that glorious land above the sky:
Work and play, live on hay,
You'll get pie in the sky when you die.
In a way, Joe Hill was right in holding any preacher's feet to the fire who refuses to deal with the problems people face. I think we do better now than in Joe's day -- we take seriously our role as agents of social responsibility, because we believe God loves this world and would have us do it. "Pie in the sky" is not the sum and substance of our message, but it is surely part of it. And, despite Joe Hill, I think it ought to be. Because for so many in this world, the victims of crime, for the children of our slums, for the babies of the bombed-out cities, for the starving orphans of genocide, there is no "pie" anywhere else.
We had a taste of that "pie" in our text. To be sure, the writer of Revelation knew how unjust his world was. Christians of John's day were being tortured and killed for no other reason than their profession of faith. They were being covered with pitch, tied to stakes, and set afire as human torches; they were being wrapped in the skins of dead animals then left to be set upon by wild dogs; they were dragged into the arena to face lions. As John wrote, he was in the penal colony on the island of Patmos, probably awaiting execution. No, there was no justice then, either.
But, as sure as John was that the world was bad, he was equally sure that it could and would be made good. He saw a new heaven and a new earth -- the old had been ruined by sin -- God had now completed the repairs. The mysterious and treacherous sea that held such terror for the ancient world as the place where ships were lost and monsters roamed was gone. He saw a "new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband" (Revelation 21:2) to replace the holy city the Romans had made so ugly in its destruction just a generation before. He heard a great voice affirming "the dwelling of God is with men" (Revelation 21:3). God would always be close at hand -- a marvelous word for terrified folks who sometimes wondered if God had forgotten them and their agony. There would be no more tears, no more death, no more mourning or crying or pain. "The old order of things has passed away ... I am making everything new" (Revelation 21:4-5). Everything evil would be gone. With eyes of faith John could see the "pie in the sky." He knew, despite all the evidence to the contrary, God ultimately would be victorious.
No doubt, it was not always easy for him to believe that. It is not always easy for us either. For many, our celebration of Easter probably seems a cruel hoax. The real world is not Easter but Good Friday -- the bloodstains of injury, the nailprints of disease, the Calvary where hope is hung, the tomb where broken dreams are buried. There are times we have all experienced that pain. Life seems hopeless. We have to struggle to continue to believe.
Kierkegaard once said, "Christians reminded him of schoolboys who want to look up the answers to their math problems in the back of the book rather than work them through." That is not entirely true. Yes, we want the final answers, and we have them in the back of our book -- Revelation. Revelation's message is that God wins! But we really would like to know God's game plan. In fact, we wish God would consult us. I would help God out, show God how to handle things. Wouldn't you? Mark Twain once said, "The rain is famous for falling on the just and unjust alike, but if I had the management of such affairs, I would rain softly and sweetly on the just, but if I caught a sample of the unjust outdoors, I would drown him." Amen and Amen!
Of course, God does not consult us. Good thing. We would probably forget to have it rain at all -- we would dry up and blow away. Someday we will see how God managed this universe, and with the benefit of 20/20 hindsight, we will understand. We will probably even say, "God, you did good."
No, there is no justice in this world -- not now. But that does not mean there will never be. Easter is God's pledge that those miserable black Fridays will turn into glorious, joy-filled Sundays. That means, despite Joe Hill, we can preach "pie in the sky" unashamedly. We can shout out that God's creation does not end with either the whimper of a starving child or the blast of a nuclear bomb, it ends with the downfall of the principalities and powers and the rulers of darkness of this world, it ends with justice rolling down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream, it ends with the Lamb upon the throne and the victorious song of a massive choir echoing through the corridors of the universe.
Listen. Can you hear it? Off in the distance, ever so faintly at first. But closer and closer and closer it comes, finally swelling to full crescendo: "The kingdom of this world has become the kingdom of our Lord and of his Christ, and he shall reign for ever and ever" (Revelation 11:15). Hallelujah!
____________
1. Joseph Hillstrom, "The Preacher And The Slave," The American Reader, Diane Ravitch, ed. (San Francisco: HarperCollins, 1990), p. 223.
I have always believed that there is profound theology in this constant "battle of the bulge" I fight: It proves to me that there is a heaven ... because there is no justice in this world. Why should someone as wonderful as me have to constantly worry about what he eats? Why should I gain six pounds by looking at a slice of pizza or sampling a teeny-weeny piece of cheesecake when so many killers and thieves and rapists can eat anything they want and never gain an ounce? Because there is no justice in the world! But someday, the upside down will be turned over, the inside out will be reversed, the wrong will be made right. And when I get to heaven, I will be able to eat anything I want and I will be skinny, because the Bible says there will be no tears in heaven, and if I am not skinny, I will cry!
No, there is no justice in the world. But that is really no laughing matter. That is one reason we gather from week to week for worship. We need to hear God's good news in the midst of all around us that is bad. We need to hear once more the story of the resurrection, the affirmation that life does not end with death. We need to hear once again that God is in charge in this world despite all the evidence to the contrary. The cynics will call it "pie in the sky," but we need to hear it just to keep going one more day.
Do you know where the phrase, "pie in the sky," comes from? It is found in a parody of the old gospel hymn that many of us sing, "In The Sweet Bye And Bye." It was written by Joseph Hillstrom, a labor organizer at the turn of the century for the radical Industrial Workers of the World. Joe Hill (as he was known) was furious at the plight of those on the bottom of society's ladder, and he expressed his anger on picket lines, in bar room brawls, and even in verse. He called his song, "The Preacher And The Slave."1
Long-haired preachers come out every night,
Try to tell you what's wrong and what's right;
But when asked 'bout something to eat,
They will answer with voices so sweet:
You will eat bye and bye,
In that glorious land above the sky:
Work and play, live on hay,
You'll get pie in the sky when you die.
In a way, Joe Hill was right in holding any preacher's feet to the fire who refuses to deal with the problems people face. I think we do better now than in Joe's day -- we take seriously our role as agents of social responsibility, because we believe God loves this world and would have us do it. "Pie in the sky" is not the sum and substance of our message, but it is surely part of it. And, despite Joe Hill, I think it ought to be. Because for so many in this world, the victims of crime, for the children of our slums, for the babies of the bombed-out cities, for the starving orphans of genocide, there is no "pie" anywhere else.
We had a taste of that "pie" in our text. To be sure, the writer of Revelation knew how unjust his world was. Christians of John's day were being tortured and killed for no other reason than their profession of faith. They were being covered with pitch, tied to stakes, and set afire as human torches; they were being wrapped in the skins of dead animals then left to be set upon by wild dogs; they were dragged into the arena to face lions. As John wrote, he was in the penal colony on the island of Patmos, probably awaiting execution. No, there was no justice then, either.
But, as sure as John was that the world was bad, he was equally sure that it could and would be made good. He saw a new heaven and a new earth -- the old had been ruined by sin -- God had now completed the repairs. The mysterious and treacherous sea that held such terror for the ancient world as the place where ships were lost and monsters roamed was gone. He saw a "new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband" (Revelation 21:2) to replace the holy city the Romans had made so ugly in its destruction just a generation before. He heard a great voice affirming "the dwelling of God is with men" (Revelation 21:3). God would always be close at hand -- a marvelous word for terrified folks who sometimes wondered if God had forgotten them and their agony. There would be no more tears, no more death, no more mourning or crying or pain. "The old order of things has passed away ... I am making everything new" (Revelation 21:4-5). Everything evil would be gone. With eyes of faith John could see the "pie in the sky." He knew, despite all the evidence to the contrary, God ultimately would be victorious.
No doubt, it was not always easy for him to believe that. It is not always easy for us either. For many, our celebration of Easter probably seems a cruel hoax. The real world is not Easter but Good Friday -- the bloodstains of injury, the nailprints of disease, the Calvary where hope is hung, the tomb where broken dreams are buried. There are times we have all experienced that pain. Life seems hopeless. We have to struggle to continue to believe.
Kierkegaard once said, "Christians reminded him of schoolboys who want to look up the answers to their math problems in the back of the book rather than work them through." That is not entirely true. Yes, we want the final answers, and we have them in the back of our book -- Revelation. Revelation's message is that God wins! But we really would like to know God's game plan. In fact, we wish God would consult us. I would help God out, show God how to handle things. Wouldn't you? Mark Twain once said, "The rain is famous for falling on the just and unjust alike, but if I had the management of such affairs, I would rain softly and sweetly on the just, but if I caught a sample of the unjust outdoors, I would drown him." Amen and Amen!
Of course, God does not consult us. Good thing. We would probably forget to have it rain at all -- we would dry up and blow away. Someday we will see how God managed this universe, and with the benefit of 20/20 hindsight, we will understand. We will probably even say, "God, you did good."
No, there is no justice in this world -- not now. But that does not mean there will never be. Easter is God's pledge that those miserable black Fridays will turn into glorious, joy-filled Sundays. That means, despite Joe Hill, we can preach "pie in the sky" unashamedly. We can shout out that God's creation does not end with either the whimper of a starving child or the blast of a nuclear bomb, it ends with the downfall of the principalities and powers and the rulers of darkness of this world, it ends with justice rolling down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream, it ends with the Lamb upon the throne and the victorious song of a massive choir echoing through the corridors of the universe.
Listen. Can you hear it? Off in the distance, ever so faintly at first. But closer and closer and closer it comes, finally swelling to full crescendo: "The kingdom of this world has become the kingdom of our Lord and of his Christ, and he shall reign for ever and ever" (Revelation 11:15). Hallelujah!
____________
1. Joseph Hillstrom, "The Preacher And The Slave," The American Reader, Diane Ravitch, ed. (San Francisco: HarperCollins, 1990), p. 223.
