A "Somebody Done Somebody Wrong" Song
Sermon
Sermons on the First Readings
Series II, Cycle C
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall; Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
All the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't
put Humpty Dumpty together again.
This is a nursery rhyme we learned as children, and somewhere along the line in history class we were taught that its composer, "Mother Goose," was, in fact, a political satirist. If we look between the lines of these playful rhymes we will find some kind of hidden message poking fun at royalty. (I guess you had to be there to get the joke.)
Whether Sir Dumpty was some courtier destroyed by political intrigue or a giant egg as once depicted in a children's book only historians can say for sure. But, political or not, there is a truth to be told by his story: Some things and some relationships are just so fragile that all can be lost in one wrong move. Knock over Grandma's antique hurricane lamp and it is junk, no matter how much glue or scotch tape you use to put the pieces back in place; and don't tell me you haven't tried that approach. Broadcast a story alleging a politician's misconduct in office and a career can be destroyed even if libel is proven. To quote the Berenstain Bears (from The Berenstain Bears and the Truth by Stan and Jan Berenstain), "Trust is something you cannot put back together once it is broken."
Take marriage, for instance. Two people can carefully create a world together, can share their lives and their bodies with one another, can make babies, and build a business; and all of it will crumble by the weight of a lie.
"I, John, take you, Mary, to be my wife," so the vows go, "for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, 'til death us do part." According to the National Center for Health Statistics, more than eight people per every thousand made that promise in 2001; and four people in every thousand broke it through divorce.
The reasons for these disastrous statistics are as complicated as the relationships themselves; but most certainly a major factor is broken trust. We lie to ourselves and our spouses about lots of things -- like addictions to alcohol or drugs, or the money we spent and where we spent it, or in more recent times the amount of time spent on the internet. And there is the all-time favorite topic of country music and soap operas -- the cheating heart. Most marriages are lost by a combination of these factors. Once the lies are revealed, the wounds are nearly impossible to heal completely even if the marriage survives. Like Grandma's shattered lamp -- the cracks are always there.
That is why the story of Hosea, son of Beeri, seems so personal even these centuries later. It is a parable lived out in real life not only by the prophet but by nearly four out of every thousand people in our neighborhood. Such betrayal may even be in your story as well. But more than all that, Hosea claims, it is God's story.
In the beginning, the prophet, presumably a young man, is ordered by God to "take for yourself a wife of whoredom and have children of whoredom." (That's the NRSV translation.) Whether this female is a common street prostitute or part of a pagan fertility cult is debated by scholars even yet. In a matter of six verses the command is accomplished; Hosea marries Gomer and three children are born and given names of prophetic significance: Jezreel ("cast away"), Lo-ruhamah ("not pitied"), and Lo-ammi ("not my people").
Why anyone would deliberately marry an unfaithful partner could jump-start a lot of speculation on our part. Bringing children into such a union would not be considered wise family planning, to say the least. One might suspect the prophet discerned God's handiwork in these events after the fact. That God would orchestrate such a fiasco is difficult to accept. That Hosea would oblige should raise an eyebrow, as well. Still, we must admit that, in our own day, marriages are consummated and children "begat" for reasons that are equally questionable. Some have contemplated this story from the perspective of Gomer or her progeny in an effort to make sense of it. Such speculation can provide useful insights into our modern domestic relations but it misses the point of the book altogether. Ultimately the message is not about Hosea and Gomer and their struggles of the heart -- it is about God and the covenant people. God makes the reason clear even if not logical. "The land commits great whoredom by forsaking the Lord."
Hosea used his family struggles as a way to speak to his people about their own idolatry. In the tragic last days of the northern kingdom, Israel's throne saw six kings in 25 years. With the impending threat of Assyrian expansion into the territory, political maneuvering and diplomatic gamesmanship became a way of life. First came one treaty and then another, tribute after tribute, taxation upon taxation, courting one military alliance after another in the name of domestic tranquility. These were turbulent times and the nation's political, economic, and religious leaders were caught up in the currents, living as though God were not God and as if the covenant made at Sinai had no claim on their actions.
Hosea is not the only biblical writer to use the marital relationship as a metaphor for God's relationship with Israel, but he certainly pursues that image with maximum emotional intensity. Stories of the deities of many of Israel's neighbors also ascribed to their gods' personal characteristics like jealousy or anger or fury in the face of betrayal, but no other nation's gods relate so directly with human beings or are so concerned about their ethical behavior. No other god fights so passionately for the human community nor expects such fidelity from it, and none expresses such heartache when things go awry. Not that we would think of a Hank Williams' song as divine lyrics, but "Your Cheatin' Heart" could well be the title of God's lament over Israel.
No soap opera or romance novel could write the drama better. But more surprising and intriguing than the human infidelity related by this story is the divine response: the promise of reunion and reconciliation. "In the place where it was said to them, 'you are not my people,' it shall be said to them, 'Children of the living God'" (v. 10). Beyond the heartache and lament is an undying commitment "to love, honor, and cherish" even when that love is scorned and abused. Where does one summon such forgiveness, such stubborn commitment to love? Only from the heart of God.
The cheating heart story is far too familiar to the human drama, whether it is Gomer, or Israel, or the bride of Christ. To invest one's heart in another is incredibly risky; and to betray that trust is to bring disaster upon oneself. That anyone would take such a risk is a testimony to love's hope and strength. That the Creator of the universe would do so for the sake of humanity is nearly incomprehensible. That this God would continue to pursue and woo us despite our faithlessness is almost beyond belief. Those who insist "you can't put Humpty Dumpty together again" don't know God's power or Christ's mercy.
Still, the task of such reconciliation is not easy. Ask anyone impacted by an extramarital affair. Before love can be restored, there is a lot of "hell to pay" -- a lot of screaming and a lot of silence to be endured; a lot of confession to be made and tears to be shed; a lot of hard work before trust can be re-established. Israel paid a heavy price for its flirtation with pagan idols and betrayal of God's compassion. About 721 B.C.E., Samaria was crushed by the Assyrian army and its people exiled. The northern kingdom came to an end.
A hard lesson learned by a people long ago, yet we flirt with similar disaster when we forsake Christ to pursue selfish ambitions. In our efforts to secure material possessions, financial stability, social esteem, or institutional survival, we give obeisance to false idols and devote our energies to powers and principalities that promise the best deal or the easiest shortcut. We wheel and deal as if Christ is not Lord and as if loving God and neighbor is not his prime directive. We have abandoned our prayer life, tossed our Bibles onto a shelf, and neglected worship. We have ignored the membership promises we made to the church to give God our time, talents, and treasure. Such betrayal ultimately leads to judgment. Keep it up, and Sir Dumpty's "great fall" will not be long in coming.
Some of us, individual Christians or communities, may already have learned such truth the hard way, and our lives may even now be splattered at the foot of the wall. Amidst the heartache of broken lives, depleted bodies, and fractured relationships we find ourselves empty and hopeless. Considering the mess we've made, we wonder if redemption is even possible.
Thank God for Christ's mercy and God's stubborn love toward us. The God who raised Jesus from the dead can indeed restore our fractured lives and make us new. The wounded can be made whole, the sin can be forgiven, the relationship restored, and trust mended. Our cheating hearts can be made pure once more. All this is possible, not through our own efforts but by the love of Christ and the renewing power of the Holy Spirit. All that is required is that we turn in repentance. Call to God and you will once again receive pity. Cry out and you will again be called, "My child."
All the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't
put Humpty Dumpty together again.
This is a nursery rhyme we learned as children, and somewhere along the line in history class we were taught that its composer, "Mother Goose," was, in fact, a political satirist. If we look between the lines of these playful rhymes we will find some kind of hidden message poking fun at royalty. (I guess you had to be there to get the joke.)
Whether Sir Dumpty was some courtier destroyed by political intrigue or a giant egg as once depicted in a children's book only historians can say for sure. But, political or not, there is a truth to be told by his story: Some things and some relationships are just so fragile that all can be lost in one wrong move. Knock over Grandma's antique hurricane lamp and it is junk, no matter how much glue or scotch tape you use to put the pieces back in place; and don't tell me you haven't tried that approach. Broadcast a story alleging a politician's misconduct in office and a career can be destroyed even if libel is proven. To quote the Berenstain Bears (from The Berenstain Bears and the Truth by Stan and Jan Berenstain), "Trust is something you cannot put back together once it is broken."
Take marriage, for instance. Two people can carefully create a world together, can share their lives and their bodies with one another, can make babies, and build a business; and all of it will crumble by the weight of a lie.
"I, John, take you, Mary, to be my wife," so the vows go, "for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, 'til death us do part." According to the National Center for Health Statistics, more than eight people per every thousand made that promise in 2001; and four people in every thousand broke it through divorce.
The reasons for these disastrous statistics are as complicated as the relationships themselves; but most certainly a major factor is broken trust. We lie to ourselves and our spouses about lots of things -- like addictions to alcohol or drugs, or the money we spent and where we spent it, or in more recent times the amount of time spent on the internet. And there is the all-time favorite topic of country music and soap operas -- the cheating heart. Most marriages are lost by a combination of these factors. Once the lies are revealed, the wounds are nearly impossible to heal completely even if the marriage survives. Like Grandma's shattered lamp -- the cracks are always there.
That is why the story of Hosea, son of Beeri, seems so personal even these centuries later. It is a parable lived out in real life not only by the prophet but by nearly four out of every thousand people in our neighborhood. Such betrayal may even be in your story as well. But more than all that, Hosea claims, it is God's story.
In the beginning, the prophet, presumably a young man, is ordered by God to "take for yourself a wife of whoredom and have children of whoredom." (That's the NRSV translation.) Whether this female is a common street prostitute or part of a pagan fertility cult is debated by scholars even yet. In a matter of six verses the command is accomplished; Hosea marries Gomer and three children are born and given names of prophetic significance: Jezreel ("cast away"), Lo-ruhamah ("not pitied"), and Lo-ammi ("not my people").
Why anyone would deliberately marry an unfaithful partner could jump-start a lot of speculation on our part. Bringing children into such a union would not be considered wise family planning, to say the least. One might suspect the prophet discerned God's handiwork in these events after the fact. That God would orchestrate such a fiasco is difficult to accept. That Hosea would oblige should raise an eyebrow, as well. Still, we must admit that, in our own day, marriages are consummated and children "begat" for reasons that are equally questionable. Some have contemplated this story from the perspective of Gomer or her progeny in an effort to make sense of it. Such speculation can provide useful insights into our modern domestic relations but it misses the point of the book altogether. Ultimately the message is not about Hosea and Gomer and their struggles of the heart -- it is about God and the covenant people. God makes the reason clear even if not logical. "The land commits great whoredom by forsaking the Lord."
Hosea used his family struggles as a way to speak to his people about their own idolatry. In the tragic last days of the northern kingdom, Israel's throne saw six kings in 25 years. With the impending threat of Assyrian expansion into the territory, political maneuvering and diplomatic gamesmanship became a way of life. First came one treaty and then another, tribute after tribute, taxation upon taxation, courting one military alliance after another in the name of domestic tranquility. These were turbulent times and the nation's political, economic, and religious leaders were caught up in the currents, living as though God were not God and as if the covenant made at Sinai had no claim on their actions.
Hosea is not the only biblical writer to use the marital relationship as a metaphor for God's relationship with Israel, but he certainly pursues that image with maximum emotional intensity. Stories of the deities of many of Israel's neighbors also ascribed to their gods' personal characteristics like jealousy or anger or fury in the face of betrayal, but no other nation's gods relate so directly with human beings or are so concerned about their ethical behavior. No other god fights so passionately for the human community nor expects such fidelity from it, and none expresses such heartache when things go awry. Not that we would think of a Hank Williams' song as divine lyrics, but "Your Cheatin' Heart" could well be the title of God's lament over Israel.
No soap opera or romance novel could write the drama better. But more surprising and intriguing than the human infidelity related by this story is the divine response: the promise of reunion and reconciliation. "In the place where it was said to them, 'you are not my people,' it shall be said to them, 'Children of the living God'" (v. 10). Beyond the heartache and lament is an undying commitment "to love, honor, and cherish" even when that love is scorned and abused. Where does one summon such forgiveness, such stubborn commitment to love? Only from the heart of God.
The cheating heart story is far too familiar to the human drama, whether it is Gomer, or Israel, or the bride of Christ. To invest one's heart in another is incredibly risky; and to betray that trust is to bring disaster upon oneself. That anyone would take such a risk is a testimony to love's hope and strength. That the Creator of the universe would do so for the sake of humanity is nearly incomprehensible. That this God would continue to pursue and woo us despite our faithlessness is almost beyond belief. Those who insist "you can't put Humpty Dumpty together again" don't know God's power or Christ's mercy.
Still, the task of such reconciliation is not easy. Ask anyone impacted by an extramarital affair. Before love can be restored, there is a lot of "hell to pay" -- a lot of screaming and a lot of silence to be endured; a lot of confession to be made and tears to be shed; a lot of hard work before trust can be re-established. Israel paid a heavy price for its flirtation with pagan idols and betrayal of God's compassion. About 721 B.C.E., Samaria was crushed by the Assyrian army and its people exiled. The northern kingdom came to an end.
A hard lesson learned by a people long ago, yet we flirt with similar disaster when we forsake Christ to pursue selfish ambitions. In our efforts to secure material possessions, financial stability, social esteem, or institutional survival, we give obeisance to false idols and devote our energies to powers and principalities that promise the best deal or the easiest shortcut. We wheel and deal as if Christ is not Lord and as if loving God and neighbor is not his prime directive. We have abandoned our prayer life, tossed our Bibles onto a shelf, and neglected worship. We have ignored the membership promises we made to the church to give God our time, talents, and treasure. Such betrayal ultimately leads to judgment. Keep it up, and Sir Dumpty's "great fall" will not be long in coming.
Some of us, individual Christians or communities, may already have learned such truth the hard way, and our lives may even now be splattered at the foot of the wall. Amidst the heartache of broken lives, depleted bodies, and fractured relationships we find ourselves empty and hopeless. Considering the mess we've made, we wonder if redemption is even possible.
Thank God for Christ's mercy and God's stubborn love toward us. The God who raised Jesus from the dead can indeed restore our fractured lives and make us new. The wounded can be made whole, the sin can be forgiven, the relationship restored, and trust mended. Our cheating hearts can be made pure once more. All this is possible, not through our own efforts but by the love of Christ and the renewing power of the Holy Spirit. All that is required is that we turn in repentance. Call to God and you will once again receive pity. Cry out and you will again be called, "My child."
