What A Deal: Investing In Hope
Sermon
Sermons on the First Readings
Series II, Cycle C
What is the most ludicrous business deal you ever got into (or out of) just in time?
In the tiny town of Flushing, Ohio, amidst the coalfields of Belmont County, stands a brick building which used to house the Citizens' National Bank. Like a lot of community financial institutions of its day, this bank specialized in small loans made to local farmers, sheepherders, and working-class folks in the nearby area and harbored the hard-earned dollars of their working-class neighbors. Their capital was fortified with investments of some local coal tycoons and a congressman from the area; and for nearly two generations, it served the community well until it was swallowed up by a much larger financial institution from a much larger city. Instead of the local farmers and businessmen who originally constituted the board of directors, financiers who have likely never set foot in the town, and probably couldn't even find it on the map, now operate the bank.
The story of this little bank is not much different from a lot of community banks in lots of small towns across the country that have similarly been bought by larger financial corporations. But what is most noticeable about this bank was its founding date -- smack in the middle of the Great Depression!
One has to ask -- who would invest money in a financial institution at a time when banks were going belly up and in a place where cash money was so scarce? Yet, that is precisely what this group of farmers, shepherds, and small-business operators did. And, for nearly two generations they succeeded in providing the capital that built homes, purchased equipment, expanded businesses, and paid college tuition for folks in that tiny town. But you have to wonder -- in 1931 was it optimism or insanity that inspired the investors?
That kind of investment at that time in history was risky enough, but could anything be more ridiculous than buying property in a war zone? Yet that was precisely the deal offered to the prophet Jeremiah that we read about in this particular text.
The scene is nearly preposterous: the unbeatable army of Babylon surrounds Jerusalem. Jeremiah had been relentlessly foretelling the destruction of Judah. While other so-called prophets had sought to bolster fragile morale by assuring the populace that Yahweh would once again act to spare the Holy City, Jeremiah had stubbornly announced just the opposite message. During a temporary reprieve in the siege he had attempted to leave the city and encouraged others to do so, and consequently he was imprisoned for treason. Some even wanted him dead.
So there he was, under armed guard in the court of King Zedekiah, confined, and helpless -- watching his people die of starvation and disease even as they clung to false patriotic hopes. Certainly, he was in no position to be planning his investment portfolio.
Yet, even then and there, Jeremiah discerned that God was still at work. Amidst all that destruction, came a ridiculous real estate proposal. Cousin Hanamel wanted to sell out, and most likely get out before all was lost. According to the very covenant tradition that Judah had been so flagrantly ignoring, when a kinsman fell on hard times and was forced to sell his family property, the responsibility fell on the nearest relative to purchase the property and thus keep it in the family. Jeremiah got first option to invest in property that was quite possibly already under foreign domination.
What a deal! Kind of like trying to sell oceanfront property just before the hurricane hits. Good strategy if only you can find somebody foolish enough to buy it.
Somehow, Jeremiah sees more than meets the eye. Like those farmers and shopkeepers who pooled their assets to start a bank amidst the Great Depression, Jeremiah could see beyond his present circumstances. Amidst that dark hour, just months before total disaster and the collapse of society as he knew it, Jeremiah changed his tune -- from "doom and destruction" to "hope and restoration."
This was no speculative business venture or a gamble to make money on Jeremiah's part. This rite of redemption of property had direct spiritual ties to the promise God had once made with Abraham and Isaac and Jacob, and later with Moses and Joshua. Underlying this Jewish redemption tradition was an understanding that the land is not property of any individual, but rather "the earth is the Lord's" given as a heritage to the covenant people.
Under God's orders, Jeremiah invested in the future, and he did so publicly. Even as Judah's social, economic, and legal system crumbled around him, the prophet took extreme care to follow procedure. He weighed out the money (a generous price considering the market) and secured the proper deeds. Then he arranged to preserve the documents, "in order that they may last for a long time." All of this was a public demonstration of confidence -- not in the economy, nor in the government, but in the power and compassion of Almighty God. "For thus says the Lord of Hosts, the God of Israel: Houses and fields and vineyards will again be bought in this land." And Jeremiah backed up that confidence with his own savings account (32:14-15).
"Desperate measures for desperate times" we might be inclined to say. What have Jeremiah's words and actions to do with us? Our future is hardly in the same jeopardy. We have no enemy armies assaulting our perimeters, threatening to pillage our treasures, or carry us into captivity. Or do we?
Check out the national dialogue about church-state relations in our country and you'll find a lot of folks sounding the alarm. The present furor in the classroom and courtroom over "Intelligent Design" is a case-in-point. Judeo-Christian values that were once the cornerstone of our society are being challenged in our court system and assaulted in the popular media. Prayer in public schools is nearly a thing of the past (except for exam time!), and the pressure is on to blot out the very mention of God on our coinage, in our pledge to the flag, or at our public gatherings and sporting events. Books, movies, television shows, and public art espouse values and behaviors in direct conflict with biblical commandments, and those who protest such moral corruption are labeled as radicals and told to "lighten up" or "get with the times."
When Cecil B. DeMille directed The Ten Commandments, his work was received with much more appreciation by his peers than say, Mel Gibson's, The Passion Of The Christ, a few decades later -- definitely a change in the cultural environment. "Organized Religion" is demonized in contemporary, secular thought much like it was during the Soviet communist revolution a century ago.
At present, mainline churches appear to be the biggest casualties of this modern assault. Traditional liturgies, worship styles, and ecclesiastical structures no longer communicate with the same meaning and power as previous generations. Theological controversies and social issues have fragmented many mainline denominations and sapped their spiritual energy and commitment to mission. Many members, and even clergy, are bailing out -- either to other nontraditional fellowships or out of the church altogether. "Mainline Protestantism is dying!" some experts insist.
Most certainly, this challenge is not to be compared with other places on the globe where carrying a Bible or sharing the gospel is considered a capital offense and worship services are disrupted by deadly violence. Compared to that kind of hostility, American Christians are still living on easy street. But, even though the assault is more subdued and ideological, it is nevertheless a growing battle for survival.
Even amongst Christians in healthy congregations, daily living can feel like a siege against our faith. Illnesses like cancer or Alzheimer's disease assail the body; the death of a child cripples the spirit; a layoff from the factory tears at a community's social fabric. Marital infidelity shakes our faith in people. Natural disasters like hurricanes and floods leave us fearful and questioning God's trustworthiness. Like Jeremiah, we often watch helplessly as those around us are destroyed by allegiance to false idols and commitment to faulty values. At such times, investing more of ourselves in a struggling faith life seems about as absurd as Jeremiah buying into the future of Judah (literally) amidst the fiery arrows of the enemy.
What does it take to stand on such faith, to live with such assurance, to hope amidst such despair? Where can we find the confidence to continue to invest ourselves in hope when evidence of impending doom lies all around?
Like Jeremiah, we also stand on a promise: a covenant made by God and sealed in the blood of Christ. Despite the "fightings without and fears within" we have Christ's assurance of forgiveness and the Holy Spirit's presence.
The enemy will continue to besiege in some form or another. At times, such forces may breach the walls of our best defenses and possibly leave us crushed and wounded. The consequences of unfaithful living will have to be dealt with and our lives made accountable to God. These truths are inevitable, but they need not be fatal. Even if (or when) our worst fears about the future materialize, God's promise will not fail. God will continue to abide with us beyond all of it. Our bodies will grow old and die, but our lives are held in Christ. Our sinful actions will continue to create barriers in our human relationships, but Christ will never cease to offer forgiveness. Our social institutions will crumble and fail, but God's providence will continue. Political movements and military strength will rise and fall, but God is still the Master of history. The sun, moon, and stars will eventually implode into nothingness, the experts tell us; but we profess faith in God who is the Lord of creation.
For the founders of that little bank in that little town, investing their hard-earned cash money in the future of their community proved to be a good deal despite the economic climate of the Great Depression. But God offers us so much more. In Christ, we are given the strength to stand on hope when others are bailing out. In faith, we sign the deed to our lives over to him in full view of a skeptical public just as Jeremiah did so long ago. In confidence, we lay his claim on us out for all to see, even as he takes us unto himself to preserve us safe and secure for all eternity.
In the tiny town of Flushing, Ohio, amidst the coalfields of Belmont County, stands a brick building which used to house the Citizens' National Bank. Like a lot of community financial institutions of its day, this bank specialized in small loans made to local farmers, sheepherders, and working-class folks in the nearby area and harbored the hard-earned dollars of their working-class neighbors. Their capital was fortified with investments of some local coal tycoons and a congressman from the area; and for nearly two generations, it served the community well until it was swallowed up by a much larger financial institution from a much larger city. Instead of the local farmers and businessmen who originally constituted the board of directors, financiers who have likely never set foot in the town, and probably couldn't even find it on the map, now operate the bank.
The story of this little bank is not much different from a lot of community banks in lots of small towns across the country that have similarly been bought by larger financial corporations. But what is most noticeable about this bank was its founding date -- smack in the middle of the Great Depression!
One has to ask -- who would invest money in a financial institution at a time when banks were going belly up and in a place where cash money was so scarce? Yet, that is precisely what this group of farmers, shepherds, and small-business operators did. And, for nearly two generations they succeeded in providing the capital that built homes, purchased equipment, expanded businesses, and paid college tuition for folks in that tiny town. But you have to wonder -- in 1931 was it optimism or insanity that inspired the investors?
That kind of investment at that time in history was risky enough, but could anything be more ridiculous than buying property in a war zone? Yet that was precisely the deal offered to the prophet Jeremiah that we read about in this particular text.
The scene is nearly preposterous: the unbeatable army of Babylon surrounds Jerusalem. Jeremiah had been relentlessly foretelling the destruction of Judah. While other so-called prophets had sought to bolster fragile morale by assuring the populace that Yahweh would once again act to spare the Holy City, Jeremiah had stubbornly announced just the opposite message. During a temporary reprieve in the siege he had attempted to leave the city and encouraged others to do so, and consequently he was imprisoned for treason. Some even wanted him dead.
So there he was, under armed guard in the court of King Zedekiah, confined, and helpless -- watching his people die of starvation and disease even as they clung to false patriotic hopes. Certainly, he was in no position to be planning his investment portfolio.
Yet, even then and there, Jeremiah discerned that God was still at work. Amidst all that destruction, came a ridiculous real estate proposal. Cousin Hanamel wanted to sell out, and most likely get out before all was lost. According to the very covenant tradition that Judah had been so flagrantly ignoring, when a kinsman fell on hard times and was forced to sell his family property, the responsibility fell on the nearest relative to purchase the property and thus keep it in the family. Jeremiah got first option to invest in property that was quite possibly already under foreign domination.
What a deal! Kind of like trying to sell oceanfront property just before the hurricane hits. Good strategy if only you can find somebody foolish enough to buy it.
Somehow, Jeremiah sees more than meets the eye. Like those farmers and shopkeepers who pooled their assets to start a bank amidst the Great Depression, Jeremiah could see beyond his present circumstances. Amidst that dark hour, just months before total disaster and the collapse of society as he knew it, Jeremiah changed his tune -- from "doom and destruction" to "hope and restoration."
This was no speculative business venture or a gamble to make money on Jeremiah's part. This rite of redemption of property had direct spiritual ties to the promise God had once made with Abraham and Isaac and Jacob, and later with Moses and Joshua. Underlying this Jewish redemption tradition was an understanding that the land is not property of any individual, but rather "the earth is the Lord's" given as a heritage to the covenant people.
Under God's orders, Jeremiah invested in the future, and he did so publicly. Even as Judah's social, economic, and legal system crumbled around him, the prophet took extreme care to follow procedure. He weighed out the money (a generous price considering the market) and secured the proper deeds. Then he arranged to preserve the documents, "in order that they may last for a long time." All of this was a public demonstration of confidence -- not in the economy, nor in the government, but in the power and compassion of Almighty God. "For thus says the Lord of Hosts, the God of Israel: Houses and fields and vineyards will again be bought in this land." And Jeremiah backed up that confidence with his own savings account (32:14-15).
"Desperate measures for desperate times" we might be inclined to say. What have Jeremiah's words and actions to do with us? Our future is hardly in the same jeopardy. We have no enemy armies assaulting our perimeters, threatening to pillage our treasures, or carry us into captivity. Or do we?
Check out the national dialogue about church-state relations in our country and you'll find a lot of folks sounding the alarm. The present furor in the classroom and courtroom over "Intelligent Design" is a case-in-point. Judeo-Christian values that were once the cornerstone of our society are being challenged in our court system and assaulted in the popular media. Prayer in public schools is nearly a thing of the past (except for exam time!), and the pressure is on to blot out the very mention of God on our coinage, in our pledge to the flag, or at our public gatherings and sporting events. Books, movies, television shows, and public art espouse values and behaviors in direct conflict with biblical commandments, and those who protest such moral corruption are labeled as radicals and told to "lighten up" or "get with the times."
When Cecil B. DeMille directed The Ten Commandments, his work was received with much more appreciation by his peers than say, Mel Gibson's, The Passion Of The Christ, a few decades later -- definitely a change in the cultural environment. "Organized Religion" is demonized in contemporary, secular thought much like it was during the Soviet communist revolution a century ago.
At present, mainline churches appear to be the biggest casualties of this modern assault. Traditional liturgies, worship styles, and ecclesiastical structures no longer communicate with the same meaning and power as previous generations. Theological controversies and social issues have fragmented many mainline denominations and sapped their spiritual energy and commitment to mission. Many members, and even clergy, are bailing out -- either to other nontraditional fellowships or out of the church altogether. "Mainline Protestantism is dying!" some experts insist.
Most certainly, this challenge is not to be compared with other places on the globe where carrying a Bible or sharing the gospel is considered a capital offense and worship services are disrupted by deadly violence. Compared to that kind of hostility, American Christians are still living on easy street. But, even though the assault is more subdued and ideological, it is nevertheless a growing battle for survival.
Even amongst Christians in healthy congregations, daily living can feel like a siege against our faith. Illnesses like cancer or Alzheimer's disease assail the body; the death of a child cripples the spirit; a layoff from the factory tears at a community's social fabric. Marital infidelity shakes our faith in people. Natural disasters like hurricanes and floods leave us fearful and questioning God's trustworthiness. Like Jeremiah, we often watch helplessly as those around us are destroyed by allegiance to false idols and commitment to faulty values. At such times, investing more of ourselves in a struggling faith life seems about as absurd as Jeremiah buying into the future of Judah (literally) amidst the fiery arrows of the enemy.
What does it take to stand on such faith, to live with such assurance, to hope amidst such despair? Where can we find the confidence to continue to invest ourselves in hope when evidence of impending doom lies all around?
Like Jeremiah, we also stand on a promise: a covenant made by God and sealed in the blood of Christ. Despite the "fightings without and fears within" we have Christ's assurance of forgiveness and the Holy Spirit's presence.
The enemy will continue to besiege in some form or another. At times, such forces may breach the walls of our best defenses and possibly leave us crushed and wounded. The consequences of unfaithful living will have to be dealt with and our lives made accountable to God. These truths are inevitable, but they need not be fatal. Even if (or when) our worst fears about the future materialize, God's promise will not fail. God will continue to abide with us beyond all of it. Our bodies will grow old and die, but our lives are held in Christ. Our sinful actions will continue to create barriers in our human relationships, but Christ will never cease to offer forgiveness. Our social institutions will crumble and fail, but God's providence will continue. Political movements and military strength will rise and fall, but God is still the Master of history. The sun, moon, and stars will eventually implode into nothingness, the experts tell us; but we profess faith in God who is the Lord of creation.
For the founders of that little bank in that little town, investing their hard-earned cash money in the future of their community proved to be a good deal despite the economic climate of the Great Depression. But God offers us so much more. In Christ, we are given the strength to stand on hope when others are bailing out. In faith, we sign the deed to our lives over to him in full view of a skeptical public just as Jeremiah did so long ago. In confidence, we lay his claim on us out for all to see, even as he takes us unto himself to preserve us safe and secure for all eternity.
