Proper 20 / Pentecost 18 / Ordinary Time 25
Preaching
Lectionary Preaching Workbook
Series VIII, Cycle A
Object:
Theme For The Day
The rear window shows us nothing worth looking at.
Old Testament Lesson
Exodus 16:2-15
Manna From Heaven
This passage begins on a note of complaint. The Israelites, already weary of their wanderings, complain to Moses and Aaron of their growling stomachs. They speak with wistful longing of "the fleshpots of Egypt" (verses 2-3). The Lord promises to "rain bread from heaven" for them -- thoughtfully providing a double ration on the eve of the sabbath, so they will not have to gather food on the following day (verses 4-5). In the morning, the people discover a multitude of quails they can catch and eat, as well as a white, flaky substance covering the ground (verses 13-14). The people's first reaction is to ask, "What is it?" -- which is where the word "manna" comes from (v. 15). Subsequent verses tell how the manna appears fresh every morning, providing just as much as the people need for the day -- a beautiful example of the reliable nature of divine providence (verses 16-21). T. Fretheim describes a natural explanation for this phenomenon: "A type of plant lice punctures the fruit of the tamarisk tree and excretes a substance from this juice, a yellowish-white flake or ball. During the warmth of the day it disintegrates, but it congeals when it is cold. It has a sweet taste. Rich in carbohydrates and sugar, it is still gathered by natives, who bake it into a kind of bread (and call it manna). The food decays quickly and attracts ants. Regarding the quails (see Numbers 11:31-32), migratory birds flying in from Africa or blown in from the Mediterranean are often exhausted enough to be caught by hand." (Exodus, from the Interpretation commentary series [John Knox Press, 1991], p. 182)
New Testament Lesson
Philippians 1:21-30
"Living Is Christ And Dying Is Gain"
This week begins a four-week epistle lesson series from the letter to the Philippians. Writing from prison, a grim place where he is all too aware of the possibility of torture and death, Paul writes to his friends at Philippi: "For to me, living is Christ and dying is gain" (v. 21). He would even welcome death, he says -- for this would mean he would be with Christ -- but he realizes it is necessary for him to continue at his labors for the sake of the churches he has founded (verses 23-24). He uses a euphemism for death -- analeuein, "to depart" -- that means to break camp, to move on (literally, it is "pulling up the tent ropes"). Death, to him, is merely the next stage in the journey. He has expressed a similar sentiment in Romans 14:8. Paul encourages the Philippians to live their lives "in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ" (v. 27). By this he means courage in the face of persecution for, by facing their oppressors with fortitude, they will demonstrate not so much their enemies' "destruction," but their own "salvation" (v. 28). As one who has known suffering and struggle, Paul assures them that suffering for Christ is a privilege (verses 29-30).
The Gospel
Matthew 20:1-16
The Parable Of The Laborers In The Vineyard
Some parables push us beyond our comfort zone. This is one. Throughout the day, a certain farmer goes to the section of the marketplace where day-laborers are hired, and employs some workers to come help with his harvest. At the end of the day, he pays all of them the same wage -- a fair amount for a full day's labor but excessively generous for those who have begun work late in the day. Those hired in the early morning complain that this is unfair. The farmer insists it's not unfair for he is paying the first-hired workers exactly what he contracted to pay them. If he chooses to pay the late arrivals the same amount, what is that to them? "Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me?" (v. 15a). Engraved in large letters above the imposing Greek-style portico of Kirby Hall on the Lafayette College campus is this very line. It was placed there at the request of the wealthy entrepreneur who paid for this building, which he intended as a new home for the business department. He considered this verse to be a sort of proof-text for free-market capitalism, suitable to adorn his new temple of commerce. The donor was, of course, taking the verse completely out of context, twisting its meaning from generosity to selfishness. One who conducts business after the example of the farmer in the parable is closer to socialism than capitalism. Jesus is not talking about economics, in any event -- at least, not in any earthly sense. He's talking about the reign of God in which "the last will be first, and the first will be last" (v. 16). God's economics are different from ours.
Preaching Possibilities
There came a point, in the wilderness wanderings of the people, Israel, when some of them became experts on where they had been. Exodus 16:2 tells us, "The whole congregation of the Israelites complained against Moses and Aaron in the wilderness." They had left Egypt in fear and trembling, having beheld the terrible wrath of Yahweh who visited plagues upon the Egyptians. The last plague was the most fearsome of all -- the death of the firstborn children. After that, it was not hard for the Israelites to make their hurried departure from the land of the Pharaohs -- to select the few cherished possessions they could carry with them, leaving everything else behind. These refugees ate their last meal on their feet, chewing on matzoh, that unleavened bread they'd barely had time to bake.
After that, there was the passage through the Red Sea -- that great experience of deliverance that would become the stuff of Jewish song and story. Always in times of extremity, in the midst of dire persecutions, the people of Israel could recall for each other how the Lord had brought them out of slavery, through the waters of the sea to safety.
That was afterward. Exodus 16 reminds us how, at the time, the chosen people forgot they had been chosen. They "complained against Moses and Aaron in the wilderness." Specifically they said, "What are you trying to do -- starve us? Even the grub back in Pharaoh's mess hall was better than this! None of this growling-stomach stuff at Pharaoh's table, no sir!"
Which is all rather comical in a sad sort of way. How swiftly these faithless people forget! How quickly, in the distorting lens of human imagination, the backbreaking labor, the beatings, the starva-tion-rations of slavery become the stuff of nostalgia! The view through the rear window is always distorted and deceiving.
Yet how attractive that view is for all of us! The French have a proverb: "Ah, les bons vieux temps ou nous étions si malheureux!" -- or, in English, "Oh, the good old times when we were so unhappy!" So often, when we take the backward view, we see reality through a sort of gauzy distortion. All the bad times -- of which there were many -- fall away. Only the good remain in our unreliable memory banks.
So what happens to those bellyaching, backward-looking Israelites? Exodus 16 tells us the Lord has mercy on them. Speaking through Moses, God promises them "bread from heaven," stuff they call manna -- which literally means, "What-is-it?" (Which is probably exactly what the Israelites said to one another the first time they laid eyes on this flaky, bread-like substance scattered across the desert sand.) The manna was good to eat -- tasty, even -- and most importantly, there was enough for everyone.
When it came to shelf life, the manna had practically none. But, no matter -- those wandering Israelites had no shelves! Each day they would eat their fill of the stuff, and each night the Lord would scatter another batch of manna on the ground to answer the next day's needs. After days and weeks and even months of this, the Israelites had learned an important lesson of faith -- that, in times of extremity, the Lord does provide.
The people of Israel cherished this story of the manna in the wilderness and told it again and again, because they believed it contained an important message for the next generations. Don't look back they yearned to tell their grandchildren. Look forward, instead.
This, of course, is easier said than done, because it's always easier to look back over familiar territory than to gaze ahead into a future still shrouded in mystery. Yet, look forward we must because the only alternative is to die in the desert.
In no area of our lives is this more true than in our committed relationships. Marriage is the most profound of these relationships, but there are also some friendships that aspire to this level of commitment. There's church membership, with its solemn baptismal vows. There are also certain commitments some of us make in the workplace or in other communities to which we belong.
It's no secret that the institution of marriage is in trouble today -- and it has nothing to do with the current debate over same-sex marriage. Marriage is in trouble today because of a widespread, unspoken belief in our culture about commitment in general. This widespread belief is that commitment is confining, restricting, suffocating and ultimately destructive of the individual. Freedom, on the other hand, is defined as having a multitude of choices. To voluntarily limit one's range of choices in life has therefore got to be foolish and destructive of the individual.
The truth, however, is quite the opposite. God has designed us human beings to be together for life. It is in such committed relationships that we thrive.
True commitment is not restrictive at all. It's like a river that flows between two banks. The closer those riverbanks are to one another, the more rapid and powerful is the river's flow. Send a river like the Colorado surging through the towering walls of a narrow canyon, and the result is white water. Send the same river seeping out onto a vast flood plain, with no banks to hold it in, and all you get is a swamp. Human beings thrive between the riverbanks of commitment.
Any who doubt this assertion can turn to a number of well-documented research studies that demonstrate marriage is actually good for our health. For men, the numbers are dramatic, for women less so -- but they're still significant. Married people live longer, on the average, than single people. They report fewer health problems. They enjoy, on the average, a higher level of happiness and satisfaction in life. This is true even in the area of sexuality -- which (contrary to what Hollywood and the late-night comics salaciously suggest) is actually more fulfilling for married people than for those who used to be called "swinging singles," but who now practice casual "hookups."
The chief obstacle to committed relationships like marriage is the view through the rear window. Just as the Israelites continually looked back and imagined Egypt to be a far better place than it ever truly was, so some restless married people look back on some earlier era of their lives and get an equally distorted view. Maybe they look back to their own single days. Or perhaps they recall those first, idyllic weeks or months of marriage when infatuation ruled the day (not to mention the nights). Even if married people could turn the clock back, they would soon discover the reality of those days to be more painful and troublesome than their sanitized memories are inclined to admit. A wise person has said, "In marriage, the grass on the other side of the street always looks greener -- but remember, it's Astroturf."
Now all this is not to say that any marriage -- even a bad one -- is better than the alternative. There are some sad situations in which divorce is called for, when it's truly the lesser of two evils -- but this is not nearly so often the case as most people think. The divorce rate is soaring today, not because there are increasing numbers of bad marriages out there or because people at the point of engagement have chosen their partners poorly but, rather, because a great many married people are fleeing the commitment necessary to make marriage work.
As the French novelist Antoine de Saint-Exupéry has said, "Love does not consist in gazing into each other's eyes, but in looking together in the same direction." That direction is not toward Egypt -- not toward the place from which couples have come -- but, rather, toward the promised land, to which the Lord is leading them: together.
When the Lord leads us forward in any venture in life, we always receive some provision for the journey. Manna, the Hebrews called it -- although it's something very similar to the "daily bread" we ask for as we pray the Lord's Prayer. When couples on their wedding day stand before the preacher and exchange vows of faithfulness "for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health... till death do us part," they are not claiming, in that blessed moment, to have everything they need to build a strong and successful marriage. How could they? They don't even know what circumstances life will bring, what joys and trials they will together come to know. The one thing they are able to promise one another is this: to stand together side by side, and move forward into God's future -- always on the lookout for the manna the Lord provides on a daily basis.
Truly it is commitment such as this that makes living -- and loving -- possible. Such commitment looks forward, not back. It celebrates the past but refuses to dwell there. It enjoys the present but does not seek to hold onto it. It lives for the future -- God's future.
Prayer For The Day
Lord, you have made us for covenant relationship:
first with you, then with others.
We acknowledge that we,
like the Hebrews of old,
can be a selfish and recalcitrant people,
more inclined to look back to a half-remembered past
than to a joyful present
or a hopeful future.
Yet, we also know that in relationship with you,
our own human relationships are healed and strengthened.
May we always put your Son, Jesus,
first in our lives:
trusting him to make all things new. Amen.
To Illustrate
Many of us who are over a certain age -- those who grew up in small towns or in the suburbs, anyway -- remember a certain kind of car you hardly ever see anymore. There used to be one of these in every other driveway, it seemed. Today, having been pushed out of the market by minivans and SUVs, this kind of car is a rarity.
It's hard for kids living today to understand the glory that was the American station wagon. It's an odd name for a car, if you think about it: "station wagon." It didn't look much like a wagon, and we never spent much time driving it to stations (except for the gas station, which was a fairly frequent destination for that old gas-guzzler). The name comes from a type of horse-drawn wagon they used to haul freight back and forth to railway stations. In our neighborhood, the only thing most people hauled in their station wagons was kids.
It was an age of innocence, the age before seat belts -- so that meant, as often as not, that a whole rabble of us kids would end up rolling around in the back of somebody's station wagon, back where the cargo was supposed to go. Nobody ever thought to warn us that if there were an accident we would become flying projectiles. Somehow we all survived.
The coolest station wagon of all was one belonging to our aunt and uncle. Back in the flat cargo space of that particular model, there was a sort of trapdoor. Pull it open, and up would pop another car seat -- a big, old vinyl-upholstered bench seat. We used to fight each other for the privilege of sitting in that bench seat. We were still small enough that three of us could squeeze into it. The chief attraction was the view: You could gaze out the back window and see the road behind you rapidly receding. It was a whole different perspective -- and if you were lucky, you might be able to attract the attention of the driver behind you by waving and making faces. Maybe you'd get a friendly wave of the hand in return, or even a toot of the horn.
The view through the rear window was always entertaining, even if it was a bit strange. You never quite knew where you were going -- but you sure became an expert on where you'd been.
***
One of the most inspiring marriage stories of recent years is that of the late actor Christopher Reeve and his wife, Dana. It's not exactly a pretty story. We all know what happened to him -- how he fell from a horse, injuring his spinal column, causing paralysis from the neck down. A strange irony indeed, for an actor who was best known for playing Superman! Eventually he died from his injuries; then Dana died too, from a nasty, fast-moving cancer.
It's hard to imagine a more devastating turn of events for a marriage than the fateful day in 1995 when Chris first learned from his doctors that his injuries were inoperable and his paralysis would likely be permanent. Here's what he wrote about it:
"At first I thought this was just another temporary problem. I needed surgery, but I'd be up and around before long. It was only after the doctors left that I began to absorb what they had told me: This is a paralyzing injury. Dana came into the room. We made eye contact. I mouthed my first lucid words to her: 'Maybe we should let me go.'
She said, 'I am only going to say this once: I will support whatever you want to do, because this is your life and your decision. But I want you to know that I'll be with you for the long haul, no matter what.' Then she added the words that saved my life: 'You're still you. And I love you.'
If she had looked away or paused or hesitated even slightly, or if I had felt there was a sense of her being noble, or fulfilling some obligation to me, I don't know if I could have pulled through. Because it had dawned on me that I had ruined my life and everybody else's. But what Dana said made living seem possible, because I felt the depth of her love and commitment."
-- from Still Me by Christopher Reeve (Cambria Productions, 1998)
***
Don't let yesterday use up too much of today.
-- Will Rogers
***
William Borden, heir to the Borden dairy fortune, graduated from a Chicago high school in 1904. His wealthy parents sent him on a trip around the world. On his epic journey, Borden was overwhelmed by the plight of the poor. He decided to commit his life to the mission field. Borden wrote two words inside the back cover of his Bible: No Reserves.
Turning away from the lure of the business world, he graduated from Yale and began studies at Princeton Seminary. He added two more words to the back of his Bible, then: No Retreats.
After graduating from Princeton, Borden sailed for China, stopping in Egypt on the way. It was there that he contracted cerebral meningitis and died within a month, still a young man. Borden's life ended before he ever had a chance to make his mark.
Was he a failure? He wouldn't have said so. Inside the back cover of his Bible, under the words No Reserves and No Retreats, Borden had added: No Regrets
***
In his book Out of the Blue, baseball pitcher and Hall of Famer Orel Hershiser shares the secret of his success on the mound: his rare ability to concentrate on the next pitch. Hershiser swiftly learned that when he was on the mound, he couldn't afford to worry about earlier mistakes, or the umpire's bad calls, or the slugger swinging his bat in the on-deck circle.
Hershiser knew that even when he gave up a home run to a batter he could have struck out, he couldn't relive that moment. He had to put it out of his mind and focus on the next pitch. Because he was able to do this, he had great success as a pitcher.
Jesus told his disciples, "Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today's trouble is enough for today" (Matthew 6:34).
***
To mourn a mischief that is past and gone
is the next way to draw new mischief on.
-- William Shakespeare, Othello, Act I, Scene 3
The rear window shows us nothing worth looking at.
Old Testament Lesson
Exodus 16:2-15
Manna From Heaven
This passage begins on a note of complaint. The Israelites, already weary of their wanderings, complain to Moses and Aaron of their growling stomachs. They speak with wistful longing of "the fleshpots of Egypt" (verses 2-3). The Lord promises to "rain bread from heaven" for them -- thoughtfully providing a double ration on the eve of the sabbath, so they will not have to gather food on the following day (verses 4-5). In the morning, the people discover a multitude of quails they can catch and eat, as well as a white, flaky substance covering the ground (verses 13-14). The people's first reaction is to ask, "What is it?" -- which is where the word "manna" comes from (v. 15). Subsequent verses tell how the manna appears fresh every morning, providing just as much as the people need for the day -- a beautiful example of the reliable nature of divine providence (verses 16-21). T. Fretheim describes a natural explanation for this phenomenon: "A type of plant lice punctures the fruit of the tamarisk tree and excretes a substance from this juice, a yellowish-white flake or ball. During the warmth of the day it disintegrates, but it congeals when it is cold. It has a sweet taste. Rich in carbohydrates and sugar, it is still gathered by natives, who bake it into a kind of bread (and call it manna). The food decays quickly and attracts ants. Regarding the quails (see Numbers 11:31-32), migratory birds flying in from Africa or blown in from the Mediterranean are often exhausted enough to be caught by hand." (Exodus, from the Interpretation commentary series [John Knox Press, 1991], p. 182)
New Testament Lesson
Philippians 1:21-30
"Living Is Christ And Dying Is Gain"
This week begins a four-week epistle lesson series from the letter to the Philippians. Writing from prison, a grim place where he is all too aware of the possibility of torture and death, Paul writes to his friends at Philippi: "For to me, living is Christ and dying is gain" (v. 21). He would even welcome death, he says -- for this would mean he would be with Christ -- but he realizes it is necessary for him to continue at his labors for the sake of the churches he has founded (verses 23-24). He uses a euphemism for death -- analeuein, "to depart" -- that means to break camp, to move on (literally, it is "pulling up the tent ropes"). Death, to him, is merely the next stage in the journey. He has expressed a similar sentiment in Romans 14:8. Paul encourages the Philippians to live their lives "in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ" (v. 27). By this he means courage in the face of persecution for, by facing their oppressors with fortitude, they will demonstrate not so much their enemies' "destruction," but their own "salvation" (v. 28). As one who has known suffering and struggle, Paul assures them that suffering for Christ is a privilege (verses 29-30).
The Gospel
Matthew 20:1-16
The Parable Of The Laborers In The Vineyard
Some parables push us beyond our comfort zone. This is one. Throughout the day, a certain farmer goes to the section of the marketplace where day-laborers are hired, and employs some workers to come help with his harvest. At the end of the day, he pays all of them the same wage -- a fair amount for a full day's labor but excessively generous for those who have begun work late in the day. Those hired in the early morning complain that this is unfair. The farmer insists it's not unfair for he is paying the first-hired workers exactly what he contracted to pay them. If he chooses to pay the late arrivals the same amount, what is that to them? "Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me?" (v. 15a). Engraved in large letters above the imposing Greek-style portico of Kirby Hall on the Lafayette College campus is this very line. It was placed there at the request of the wealthy entrepreneur who paid for this building, which he intended as a new home for the business department. He considered this verse to be a sort of proof-text for free-market capitalism, suitable to adorn his new temple of commerce. The donor was, of course, taking the verse completely out of context, twisting its meaning from generosity to selfishness. One who conducts business after the example of the farmer in the parable is closer to socialism than capitalism. Jesus is not talking about economics, in any event -- at least, not in any earthly sense. He's talking about the reign of God in which "the last will be first, and the first will be last" (v. 16). God's economics are different from ours.
Preaching Possibilities
There came a point, in the wilderness wanderings of the people, Israel, when some of them became experts on where they had been. Exodus 16:2 tells us, "The whole congregation of the Israelites complained against Moses and Aaron in the wilderness." They had left Egypt in fear and trembling, having beheld the terrible wrath of Yahweh who visited plagues upon the Egyptians. The last plague was the most fearsome of all -- the death of the firstborn children. After that, it was not hard for the Israelites to make their hurried departure from the land of the Pharaohs -- to select the few cherished possessions they could carry with them, leaving everything else behind. These refugees ate their last meal on their feet, chewing on matzoh, that unleavened bread they'd barely had time to bake.
After that, there was the passage through the Red Sea -- that great experience of deliverance that would become the stuff of Jewish song and story. Always in times of extremity, in the midst of dire persecutions, the people of Israel could recall for each other how the Lord had brought them out of slavery, through the waters of the sea to safety.
That was afterward. Exodus 16 reminds us how, at the time, the chosen people forgot they had been chosen. They "complained against Moses and Aaron in the wilderness." Specifically they said, "What are you trying to do -- starve us? Even the grub back in Pharaoh's mess hall was better than this! None of this growling-stomach stuff at Pharaoh's table, no sir!"
Which is all rather comical in a sad sort of way. How swiftly these faithless people forget! How quickly, in the distorting lens of human imagination, the backbreaking labor, the beatings, the starva-tion-rations of slavery become the stuff of nostalgia! The view through the rear window is always distorted and deceiving.
Yet how attractive that view is for all of us! The French have a proverb: "Ah, les bons vieux temps ou nous étions si malheureux!" -- or, in English, "Oh, the good old times when we were so unhappy!" So often, when we take the backward view, we see reality through a sort of gauzy distortion. All the bad times -- of which there were many -- fall away. Only the good remain in our unreliable memory banks.
So what happens to those bellyaching, backward-looking Israelites? Exodus 16 tells us the Lord has mercy on them. Speaking through Moses, God promises them "bread from heaven," stuff they call manna -- which literally means, "What-is-it?" (Which is probably exactly what the Israelites said to one another the first time they laid eyes on this flaky, bread-like substance scattered across the desert sand.) The manna was good to eat -- tasty, even -- and most importantly, there was enough for everyone.
When it came to shelf life, the manna had practically none. But, no matter -- those wandering Israelites had no shelves! Each day they would eat their fill of the stuff, and each night the Lord would scatter another batch of manna on the ground to answer the next day's needs. After days and weeks and even months of this, the Israelites had learned an important lesson of faith -- that, in times of extremity, the Lord does provide.
The people of Israel cherished this story of the manna in the wilderness and told it again and again, because they believed it contained an important message for the next generations. Don't look back they yearned to tell their grandchildren. Look forward, instead.
This, of course, is easier said than done, because it's always easier to look back over familiar territory than to gaze ahead into a future still shrouded in mystery. Yet, look forward we must because the only alternative is to die in the desert.
In no area of our lives is this more true than in our committed relationships. Marriage is the most profound of these relationships, but there are also some friendships that aspire to this level of commitment. There's church membership, with its solemn baptismal vows. There are also certain commitments some of us make in the workplace or in other communities to which we belong.
It's no secret that the institution of marriage is in trouble today -- and it has nothing to do with the current debate over same-sex marriage. Marriage is in trouble today because of a widespread, unspoken belief in our culture about commitment in general. This widespread belief is that commitment is confining, restricting, suffocating and ultimately destructive of the individual. Freedom, on the other hand, is defined as having a multitude of choices. To voluntarily limit one's range of choices in life has therefore got to be foolish and destructive of the individual.
The truth, however, is quite the opposite. God has designed us human beings to be together for life. It is in such committed relationships that we thrive.
True commitment is not restrictive at all. It's like a river that flows between two banks. The closer those riverbanks are to one another, the more rapid and powerful is the river's flow. Send a river like the Colorado surging through the towering walls of a narrow canyon, and the result is white water. Send the same river seeping out onto a vast flood plain, with no banks to hold it in, and all you get is a swamp. Human beings thrive between the riverbanks of commitment.
Any who doubt this assertion can turn to a number of well-documented research studies that demonstrate marriage is actually good for our health. For men, the numbers are dramatic, for women less so -- but they're still significant. Married people live longer, on the average, than single people. They report fewer health problems. They enjoy, on the average, a higher level of happiness and satisfaction in life. This is true even in the area of sexuality -- which (contrary to what Hollywood and the late-night comics salaciously suggest) is actually more fulfilling for married people than for those who used to be called "swinging singles," but who now practice casual "hookups."
The chief obstacle to committed relationships like marriage is the view through the rear window. Just as the Israelites continually looked back and imagined Egypt to be a far better place than it ever truly was, so some restless married people look back on some earlier era of their lives and get an equally distorted view. Maybe they look back to their own single days. Or perhaps they recall those first, idyllic weeks or months of marriage when infatuation ruled the day (not to mention the nights). Even if married people could turn the clock back, they would soon discover the reality of those days to be more painful and troublesome than their sanitized memories are inclined to admit. A wise person has said, "In marriage, the grass on the other side of the street always looks greener -- but remember, it's Astroturf."
Now all this is not to say that any marriage -- even a bad one -- is better than the alternative. There are some sad situations in which divorce is called for, when it's truly the lesser of two evils -- but this is not nearly so often the case as most people think. The divorce rate is soaring today, not because there are increasing numbers of bad marriages out there or because people at the point of engagement have chosen their partners poorly but, rather, because a great many married people are fleeing the commitment necessary to make marriage work.
As the French novelist Antoine de Saint-Exupéry has said, "Love does not consist in gazing into each other's eyes, but in looking together in the same direction." That direction is not toward Egypt -- not toward the place from which couples have come -- but, rather, toward the promised land, to which the Lord is leading them: together.
When the Lord leads us forward in any venture in life, we always receive some provision for the journey. Manna, the Hebrews called it -- although it's something very similar to the "daily bread" we ask for as we pray the Lord's Prayer. When couples on their wedding day stand before the preacher and exchange vows of faithfulness "for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health... till death do us part," they are not claiming, in that blessed moment, to have everything they need to build a strong and successful marriage. How could they? They don't even know what circumstances life will bring, what joys and trials they will together come to know. The one thing they are able to promise one another is this: to stand together side by side, and move forward into God's future -- always on the lookout for the manna the Lord provides on a daily basis.
Truly it is commitment such as this that makes living -- and loving -- possible. Such commitment looks forward, not back. It celebrates the past but refuses to dwell there. It enjoys the present but does not seek to hold onto it. It lives for the future -- God's future.
Prayer For The Day
Lord, you have made us for covenant relationship:
first with you, then with others.
We acknowledge that we,
like the Hebrews of old,
can be a selfish and recalcitrant people,
more inclined to look back to a half-remembered past
than to a joyful present
or a hopeful future.
Yet, we also know that in relationship with you,
our own human relationships are healed and strengthened.
May we always put your Son, Jesus,
first in our lives:
trusting him to make all things new. Amen.
To Illustrate
Many of us who are over a certain age -- those who grew up in small towns or in the suburbs, anyway -- remember a certain kind of car you hardly ever see anymore. There used to be one of these in every other driveway, it seemed. Today, having been pushed out of the market by minivans and SUVs, this kind of car is a rarity.
It's hard for kids living today to understand the glory that was the American station wagon. It's an odd name for a car, if you think about it: "station wagon." It didn't look much like a wagon, and we never spent much time driving it to stations (except for the gas station, which was a fairly frequent destination for that old gas-guzzler). The name comes from a type of horse-drawn wagon they used to haul freight back and forth to railway stations. In our neighborhood, the only thing most people hauled in their station wagons was kids.
It was an age of innocence, the age before seat belts -- so that meant, as often as not, that a whole rabble of us kids would end up rolling around in the back of somebody's station wagon, back where the cargo was supposed to go. Nobody ever thought to warn us that if there were an accident we would become flying projectiles. Somehow we all survived.
The coolest station wagon of all was one belonging to our aunt and uncle. Back in the flat cargo space of that particular model, there was a sort of trapdoor. Pull it open, and up would pop another car seat -- a big, old vinyl-upholstered bench seat. We used to fight each other for the privilege of sitting in that bench seat. We were still small enough that three of us could squeeze into it. The chief attraction was the view: You could gaze out the back window and see the road behind you rapidly receding. It was a whole different perspective -- and if you were lucky, you might be able to attract the attention of the driver behind you by waving and making faces. Maybe you'd get a friendly wave of the hand in return, or even a toot of the horn.
The view through the rear window was always entertaining, even if it was a bit strange. You never quite knew where you were going -- but you sure became an expert on where you'd been.
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One of the most inspiring marriage stories of recent years is that of the late actor Christopher Reeve and his wife, Dana. It's not exactly a pretty story. We all know what happened to him -- how he fell from a horse, injuring his spinal column, causing paralysis from the neck down. A strange irony indeed, for an actor who was best known for playing Superman! Eventually he died from his injuries; then Dana died too, from a nasty, fast-moving cancer.
It's hard to imagine a more devastating turn of events for a marriage than the fateful day in 1995 when Chris first learned from his doctors that his injuries were inoperable and his paralysis would likely be permanent. Here's what he wrote about it:
"At first I thought this was just another temporary problem. I needed surgery, but I'd be up and around before long. It was only after the doctors left that I began to absorb what they had told me: This is a paralyzing injury. Dana came into the room. We made eye contact. I mouthed my first lucid words to her: 'Maybe we should let me go.'
She said, 'I am only going to say this once: I will support whatever you want to do, because this is your life and your decision. But I want you to know that I'll be with you for the long haul, no matter what.' Then she added the words that saved my life: 'You're still you. And I love you.'
If she had looked away or paused or hesitated even slightly, or if I had felt there was a sense of her being noble, or fulfilling some obligation to me, I don't know if I could have pulled through. Because it had dawned on me that I had ruined my life and everybody else's. But what Dana said made living seem possible, because I felt the depth of her love and commitment."
-- from Still Me by Christopher Reeve (Cambria Productions, 1998)
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Don't let yesterday use up too much of today.
-- Will Rogers
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William Borden, heir to the Borden dairy fortune, graduated from a Chicago high school in 1904. His wealthy parents sent him on a trip around the world. On his epic journey, Borden was overwhelmed by the plight of the poor. He decided to commit his life to the mission field. Borden wrote two words inside the back cover of his Bible: No Reserves.
Turning away from the lure of the business world, he graduated from Yale and began studies at Princeton Seminary. He added two more words to the back of his Bible, then: No Retreats.
After graduating from Princeton, Borden sailed for China, stopping in Egypt on the way. It was there that he contracted cerebral meningitis and died within a month, still a young man. Borden's life ended before he ever had a chance to make his mark.
Was he a failure? He wouldn't have said so. Inside the back cover of his Bible, under the words No Reserves and No Retreats, Borden had added: No Regrets
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In his book Out of the Blue, baseball pitcher and Hall of Famer Orel Hershiser shares the secret of his success on the mound: his rare ability to concentrate on the next pitch. Hershiser swiftly learned that when he was on the mound, he couldn't afford to worry about earlier mistakes, or the umpire's bad calls, or the slugger swinging his bat in the on-deck circle.
Hershiser knew that even when he gave up a home run to a batter he could have struck out, he couldn't relive that moment. He had to put it out of his mind and focus on the next pitch. Because he was able to do this, he had great success as a pitcher.
Jesus told his disciples, "Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today's trouble is enough for today" (Matthew 6:34).
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To mourn a mischief that is past and gone
is the next way to draw new mischief on.
-- William Shakespeare, Othello, Act I, Scene 3
