You Can't Undo Appomattox -- So Let's Get On With It!
Sermon
Sermons on the Second Readings
Series II, Cycle C
There are some things that once begun, cannot be undone. One of these is the surrender of the Confederate army under the command of General Robert E. Lee at Appomattox. Within a few days all the other Confederate armies in the field surrendered and the violent, bloody American Civil War was over. One of the major outcomes of our Civil War was the freeing of the slaves on the plantations, small farms, cities, and villages, mostly in the South. The cessation of hostilities at Appomattox inaugurated a dramatic social and economic change. No longer could anyone be kept in servitude to another without pay; nor could anyone or anyone's family be separated and sold as property at auction to the highest bidder.
Slavery was a cruel system and destructive to our civic, social, and religious values. While there were many who defended slavery on biblical, political, and economic grounds, many who owned slaves and understood its cancerous grasp on America's present and future felt helpless in freeing our nation from its destruction. One can sense this anguish in many of the founding fathers, especially those from the South who held slaves. We see this as they gave themselves to working out the Declaration of Independence in 1776 and later the Constitution of the United States in 1787.
To the North, Appomattox meant they had suppressed a political rebellion and freed the slaves in the process. To the South, Appomattox meant the humiliation of military defeat and the abolition of their distinctive way of life. To the slaves, Appomattox meant they were free from the bitter, inhumane, and crushing system of slavery. That for which they had hoped for over two centuries in America was a reality. Appomattox could not be undone. Freedom was real, not just a hope.
I
In our scripture for today, Paul says, "If for in this life only we have hoped in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied" (v. 19). Like Appomattox, which can't be undone, Paul is saying that Christ's resurrection can't be undone. It is not just some fond hope; it is a hard reality giving us faith and strength for the living of this life. We may fully agree with Paul but still reserve our sense that hope is a prime commodity in the life of faith. Much of the time we have no solid, concrete, undeniable reality on which to lean. Of course, we would prefer otherwise. Yet, there are many times when the only thing we have is hope. Paul would say that a good dose of hope is better than none at all.
We must always remember that a balancing dose of realism must always be taken alongside a dose of hope. We sometimes hear that an attitude of optimism and hope in seriously ill patients almost guarantees their survival. We would certainly like to think that a positive attitude translates itself into a curative effect upon the body and its diseases. However, studies do not show that this is true. Patients who are hopeful and optimistic die from their disease at about the same rate as those who are not hopeful that they will survive. This could help our so-called faith healers to back off a bit when they suggest that faith and hopefulness will prolong their lives and overcome their illness. On the other hand, it could suggest that creating a hopefulness and optimism grounded in the determinism to live as well and happily as one can under the circumstances of one's illness, rather than succumbing to bitterness, futility, and hopelessness is to be preferred. Somewhere along the line, such people learn to sing a song, like, "We Shall Overcome" to express their hard-pressed hope.
Many slaves before Appomattox must have had only faith to keep them going. They hoped that one day they would be free -- maybe themselves, perhaps their children, or their grandchildren, or their great-grandchildren. They hoped they might find their wives, children, and grandchildren who were sold to some far-off plantation in another state and resume some sort of family life. Even if they didn't see any real earthly possibility of this, they projected their hopes heavenward. All their hopes would come to pass in the great king's palace in heaven where all hurts and sadness would find solace. Paul would not deny them this and he certainly overwrote when he said, "If for this life only we have hoped in Christ we are of all people most to be pitied" (15:19).
II
But the slaves knew that after Appomattox their freedom from slavery could not be undone. It was a reality, hard and strong, with several protecting amendments soon to be written into the Constitution. Even then, this undeniable reality met with those who would attempt to undo it or blunt its force. Fairly soon the practice of racial segregation arose in both North and South. Laws denied African Americans the full exercise of their Appomattox freedoms. They could not associate with whites in public places, theaters, or stores. Restrooms and drinking fountains had separate facilities for whites and blacks. In many places, African Americans were denied the vote by ingenious means of exclusion and were restricted to the balconies of the churches or to creating their own separate churches.
Racial intermarriage was prohibited, and the public schools from the elementary grades up through the universities were also segregated. It was not until 1954 that the Supreme Court ordered the integration of the public schools, which proceeded in to some places at the point of the bayonet of the National Guard. President Lyndon Johnson and the Democratic Congress eliminated other segregation laws in the middle 1960s. Finally, much of the reality of Appomattox became clear to America and most of America realized, however reluctantly, that we were not going back.
Similarly, Paul is arguing that the resurrection of Christ is not some fond hope but has really happened. God has acted to raise him to a renewed ministry of love and justice for the lowest of the low. God has brought Christ out of the powers of death and made him even more effective as a spiritual leader than he was in life. His followers were beginning to ascribe all sorts of wonderful titles to him, trying to say something of their experience of how he had changed and renewed their own lives and called them into God's earthly and heavenly kingdom/realm.
We need not pick apart all these titles and descriptions that have been given to Christ as if they are tight, technical terms that can be judged as "good," "better," best," or even "unacceptable." They are all ways that Christians, in an earlier time, have attempted to talk about the risen Christ who became an escapable part of their personal and social world. This is why Paul writes in this nineteenth verse, "If for this life only we have hoped in Christ we are of all people most to be pitied." But we need no pity, do we?
III
Some years ago there was a book that was published by the title, Stop Pussyfooting Through a Revolution: Some Churches That Did! I don't know how many churches adopted the message of that book -- perhaps very few. After all, most churches are places of great timidity, both conservative and mainstream churches. New ideas and new ways of thinking are not congenial to most congregations. Trying a new hymn or a new liturgy is almost always out of the question. In ways it is fitting to say of the church,
Our forebears have been members here,
A hundred years or so,
And to every new proposal
They have always answered "no"!
A similar line about the church's typical pussyfooting around serious proposals of the day is, "Well, if we've done it before, we'll try it."
The risen Christ who cannot be overcome by any of the forces of evil should embolden the church and its members to lose their timidity. Somehow, the conservative church has lost its focus on the evils that are destroying our lives in this world and instead is concentrating on getting us into a sin-free and evil-free heaven, just for mumbling a few words about Jesus, a rather minimal requirement, wouldn't you say? In all this concentration on getting ourselves and all the rest that we can to heaven, we are able to avoid the messy problems of hunger, political corruption, racism, family breakdown, drugs, war, terrorism, injustice, poverty, and the like. In the liberal church, the focus is on organ concerts, seminars on contemporary theology, church growth crusades, spiritual retreats, successful living preaching, and the correct liturgical colors for the church year. Again there is little engagement of such churches with the hurting world for which Christ died. But the risen Christ should force us out into these issues with Christians being in the avant-garde, not in the safety of the ranks in the rear. Perhaps our timidity of the pussyfooting type is why many non-church people have no good words for the church. They see the church as more interested in preserving or deflecting the world and seeking its own safety and comfort, than in wrestling with the tough issues of the day.
The film, The Royal Hunt of the Sea, has a telling moment. The Portuguese conqueror of the new world is moving through Peru's mountainous region until he comes to a place between two gigantic peaks. Only a flimsy rope bridge stretches between the peak where they are camped and the opposite peak where they must go. All are frightened at the thought of such a crossing. Inspecting his trembling force he discovers the clergy, immobilized by fear and apprehension, huddled at the rear of his column. Then he calls out in a loud voice, "The church goes first!" Could these words be something like the hard and uncompromising words of scripture from those of us who know the risen Christ? So why are we so timid?
The strife is o'er, the battle done;
The victory of life is won;
The song of triumph has begun;
Alleluia!
Slavery was a cruel system and destructive to our civic, social, and religious values. While there were many who defended slavery on biblical, political, and economic grounds, many who owned slaves and understood its cancerous grasp on America's present and future felt helpless in freeing our nation from its destruction. One can sense this anguish in many of the founding fathers, especially those from the South who held slaves. We see this as they gave themselves to working out the Declaration of Independence in 1776 and later the Constitution of the United States in 1787.
To the North, Appomattox meant they had suppressed a political rebellion and freed the slaves in the process. To the South, Appomattox meant the humiliation of military defeat and the abolition of their distinctive way of life. To the slaves, Appomattox meant they were free from the bitter, inhumane, and crushing system of slavery. That for which they had hoped for over two centuries in America was a reality. Appomattox could not be undone. Freedom was real, not just a hope.
I
In our scripture for today, Paul says, "If for in this life only we have hoped in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied" (v. 19). Like Appomattox, which can't be undone, Paul is saying that Christ's resurrection can't be undone. It is not just some fond hope; it is a hard reality giving us faith and strength for the living of this life. We may fully agree with Paul but still reserve our sense that hope is a prime commodity in the life of faith. Much of the time we have no solid, concrete, undeniable reality on which to lean. Of course, we would prefer otherwise. Yet, there are many times when the only thing we have is hope. Paul would say that a good dose of hope is better than none at all.
We must always remember that a balancing dose of realism must always be taken alongside a dose of hope. We sometimes hear that an attitude of optimism and hope in seriously ill patients almost guarantees their survival. We would certainly like to think that a positive attitude translates itself into a curative effect upon the body and its diseases. However, studies do not show that this is true. Patients who are hopeful and optimistic die from their disease at about the same rate as those who are not hopeful that they will survive. This could help our so-called faith healers to back off a bit when they suggest that faith and hopefulness will prolong their lives and overcome their illness. On the other hand, it could suggest that creating a hopefulness and optimism grounded in the determinism to live as well and happily as one can under the circumstances of one's illness, rather than succumbing to bitterness, futility, and hopelessness is to be preferred. Somewhere along the line, such people learn to sing a song, like, "We Shall Overcome" to express their hard-pressed hope.
Many slaves before Appomattox must have had only faith to keep them going. They hoped that one day they would be free -- maybe themselves, perhaps their children, or their grandchildren, or their great-grandchildren. They hoped they might find their wives, children, and grandchildren who were sold to some far-off plantation in another state and resume some sort of family life. Even if they didn't see any real earthly possibility of this, they projected their hopes heavenward. All their hopes would come to pass in the great king's palace in heaven where all hurts and sadness would find solace. Paul would not deny them this and he certainly overwrote when he said, "If for this life only we have hoped in Christ we are of all people most to be pitied" (15:19).
II
But the slaves knew that after Appomattox their freedom from slavery could not be undone. It was a reality, hard and strong, with several protecting amendments soon to be written into the Constitution. Even then, this undeniable reality met with those who would attempt to undo it or blunt its force. Fairly soon the practice of racial segregation arose in both North and South. Laws denied African Americans the full exercise of their Appomattox freedoms. They could not associate with whites in public places, theaters, or stores. Restrooms and drinking fountains had separate facilities for whites and blacks. In many places, African Americans were denied the vote by ingenious means of exclusion and were restricted to the balconies of the churches or to creating their own separate churches.
Racial intermarriage was prohibited, and the public schools from the elementary grades up through the universities were also segregated. It was not until 1954 that the Supreme Court ordered the integration of the public schools, which proceeded in to some places at the point of the bayonet of the National Guard. President Lyndon Johnson and the Democratic Congress eliminated other segregation laws in the middle 1960s. Finally, much of the reality of Appomattox became clear to America and most of America realized, however reluctantly, that we were not going back.
Similarly, Paul is arguing that the resurrection of Christ is not some fond hope but has really happened. God has acted to raise him to a renewed ministry of love and justice for the lowest of the low. God has brought Christ out of the powers of death and made him even more effective as a spiritual leader than he was in life. His followers were beginning to ascribe all sorts of wonderful titles to him, trying to say something of their experience of how he had changed and renewed their own lives and called them into God's earthly and heavenly kingdom/realm.
We need not pick apart all these titles and descriptions that have been given to Christ as if they are tight, technical terms that can be judged as "good," "better," best," or even "unacceptable." They are all ways that Christians, in an earlier time, have attempted to talk about the risen Christ who became an escapable part of their personal and social world. This is why Paul writes in this nineteenth verse, "If for this life only we have hoped in Christ we are of all people most to be pitied." But we need no pity, do we?
III
Some years ago there was a book that was published by the title, Stop Pussyfooting Through a Revolution: Some Churches That Did! I don't know how many churches adopted the message of that book -- perhaps very few. After all, most churches are places of great timidity, both conservative and mainstream churches. New ideas and new ways of thinking are not congenial to most congregations. Trying a new hymn or a new liturgy is almost always out of the question. In ways it is fitting to say of the church,
Our forebears have been members here,
A hundred years or so,
And to every new proposal
They have always answered "no"!
A similar line about the church's typical pussyfooting around serious proposals of the day is, "Well, if we've done it before, we'll try it."
The risen Christ who cannot be overcome by any of the forces of evil should embolden the church and its members to lose their timidity. Somehow, the conservative church has lost its focus on the evils that are destroying our lives in this world and instead is concentrating on getting us into a sin-free and evil-free heaven, just for mumbling a few words about Jesus, a rather minimal requirement, wouldn't you say? In all this concentration on getting ourselves and all the rest that we can to heaven, we are able to avoid the messy problems of hunger, political corruption, racism, family breakdown, drugs, war, terrorism, injustice, poverty, and the like. In the liberal church, the focus is on organ concerts, seminars on contemporary theology, church growth crusades, spiritual retreats, successful living preaching, and the correct liturgical colors for the church year. Again there is little engagement of such churches with the hurting world for which Christ died. But the risen Christ should force us out into these issues with Christians being in the avant-garde, not in the safety of the ranks in the rear. Perhaps our timidity of the pussyfooting type is why many non-church people have no good words for the church. They see the church as more interested in preserving or deflecting the world and seeking its own safety and comfort, than in wrestling with the tough issues of the day.
The film, The Royal Hunt of the Sea, has a telling moment. The Portuguese conqueror of the new world is moving through Peru's mountainous region until he comes to a place between two gigantic peaks. Only a flimsy rope bridge stretches between the peak where they are camped and the opposite peak where they must go. All are frightened at the thought of such a crossing. Inspecting his trembling force he discovers the clergy, immobilized by fear and apprehension, huddled at the rear of his column. Then he calls out in a loud voice, "The church goes first!" Could these words be something like the hard and uncompromising words of scripture from those of us who know the risen Christ? So why are we so timid?
The strife is o'er, the battle done;
The victory of life is won;
The song of triumph has begun;
Alleluia!
