Texts: Jeremiah 31:31-34; Psalm 119:9-16; John 12:20-33
In this 5th Sunday of Lent we approach Jerusalem and, with Jesus, the dawning realization that death awaits – on the cross. Death is no stranger to us here at TUMC. In the past month a number of us have lost loved ones; this past week another, as we’ve heard. So it’s fitting we turn once again to our preparation for Good Friday and the cross – but, in anticipation of the risen Christ.
In the past four Sundays our Lenten series has invited us to reflect on signs of faith – signs of the relationship between God and the people of God – of the different ways in which this relationship has been understood over the millenia – from God’s covenant with Noah, to that with Abraham and Sarah, to the laws of Moses. All of these and others have been signs of God’s interest in covenant relationship.
We’ve also been told that a covenant relationship is only good if reciprocated – it requires choice on the part of people to be in relationship with God. And, so, the word ‘sign’ again comes into play. Not only are covenants ‘signs’ of God’s interest in us, they also invite one to pledge one’s commitment to the relationship – to ‘sign up’ in ways that strengthen us as a people of God.
Today’s readings take these lessons in a new direction. Through the prophet Jeremiah, as we’ve heard it read, God says real faith is not just living with a set of laws. Real faith looks forward, and is internalized. “Behold, the days are coming, declares the Lord, when I will make a new convenant….” (v. 31). It’s not going to be like those old covenants set out in ‘laws’ – laws that were meant to be good for you, to help choose life over death, choose holiness over impurity – but which got interpreted as external controls and were broken. Not a convenant like that. Rather, God’s new vision for the world is one where people sense the presence of the Holy Spirit – not hovering somewhere nearby, but internalized – where our faith is so intimately tied with God as if inscribed on the muscles of our hearts.
And then, in the Gospel of John, Jesus says: “Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves me, the Father will honor” (12:26). We know how to respond to God because the covenant, should we choose to ‘sign on” to it, is written on our hearts. The Psalmist picks up on this imagery another way: “With my whole heart I seek you; do not let me stray from your commandments. I treasure your word in my heart, so that I may not sin against you” (Psalm 119:10-11).
As I reflected on these Lectionary readings over the past week and more I was struck yet again with the power of metaphor – God’s presence within me, written on my heart! What an evocative image of longing, of joy when one feels enveloped in God’s love, of hope for the future.
And yet, as I reflected, I felt a little troubled. There is something about this way of thinking about faith – fine and wonderful and personal as it is – there is something about this way of thinking that seems just a bit shallow – particularly in light of the death on the cross we know awaits. My comfort level crumbles when I hear Jesus say:”Now my soul is troubled. And what should I say–‘ Father, save me from this hour’? No, it is for this reason that I have come to this hour” (John 12:27).
Then it struck me. At the core of my dis-ease is that I’ve been lulled into an individualistic, North American style of thinking about faith. Indeed, the leadership material does a rather good job of that. For each week of Lent the leadership material makes a great play on the word ‘sign’ – inviting us to prepare signs for our services and for Childrens’s stories, to think of covenants both as ‘signs’, and also as opportunities to ‘sign in’, ‘sign up’, and ‘sign on’. The resource material for every week of this series is prefaced with the question “Where do I sign?”
To ‘sign on with God’– that seems rather individualistic and familiar, doesn’t it? ‘It’s me and you, God’ – as if against the rest of the universe! The point is, in North American culture, that’s the way of thinking – it’s all about my choice.
But, that’s hardly the way people in most of the world think. In most cultures and contexts people see themselves as part of a group, to think less as individuals than as part of a collective whole. In much of the world the phrase ‘in-group’ means something quite different than in North America. Here in North America we speak about an ‘in-group’ as one that is in vogue for the moment, one that the popular set are part of – and we may well feel left out if we are not part of it. That’s part of the attraction for ‘Facebook’ – who doesn’t want to ‘sign up’ to be a friend if we’re invited – so as to not miss out?
For most cultures of the world, though, an ‘in group’ means something quite different – it is what I am part of – it’s my own social group, my extended family in society. Being part of an in-group is not about being popular, it’s about where one belongs and gains a sense of identity and personal security. For most world cultures, the question about ‘signing up’ isn’t so much a question for a person to answer, as it is a question where the person counts on the group to join in the answer.
So I began revisiting todays readings, and asked the question: how would someone from another culture read and understand them? Yes of course, faith is personal. A personal commitment to our God is important and essential. BUT, a personal commitment, a commitment based on individualistic cultural values where it’s all about my choice – if that’s all there is to it, then isn’t that a vulnerable faith commitment that’s only as good as the most recent choice made? What is the role of the broader faith community, I asked myself.
Mennonite Experience with Collective
We know something about community and faith as Mennonites, so in a sense I decided to go back to basics. Our identity is as much tied to shared, collective expressions of faith as to individualistic, personal ones. As a people we have had the conviction that our faith is sustained by the influences from two polar opposite forces – the personal and the collective. Like the magnetic field governs much of how we orient ourselves in the world, to Mennonites both the personal and collective poles are central to authentic lives of faith. In the remainder of this sermon I want to speak a little more clearly about these two poles – and their import for our identity and mission to extend the peace of Jesus.
What serves as an anchor for me when I think about these two poles is those within our World Mennonite fellowship who provide a visible and public reminder of our collectivist and communal history – notably our cousins amongst Amish and Hutterian Brethren. I’m always grateful for their witness.
But, a more personal connection for me is through my grandmother – Aganetha Dyck Olfert. She was born in 1880 in an ‘old colony’ Rheinlaender mennnonite community in southern Manitoba.
This kerchief belonged to her. It’s at least 80 years old, perhaps older. What this kerchief reminds me of is not only my grandmother, but also the nature of the faith tradition in which she grew up. Though her family migrated from t
he ‘old colony’ to more modern ‘general conference’ Mennonite church affiliation, my grandmother wore a black kerchief most every day to the end of her life.
In her youth she lived in a traditional old colony village, with every family in the village having farmland apportioned to it by lot. The utmost concern of the old colony people centered around preservation of their way of life as a sign of their commitment to faith. Contact with the outside world was kept to a minimum. Priority was given to the idea of nonconformity with the world. As a people of faith we are ‘in the world, but not of the world,’ is how I heard it said as a child.
Nonconformity as a group of believers, from their point of view, involved the total cultural pattern – the language one used for worship; wearing clothing that was modest and not worldly; running one’s own schools with too much education seen as worldly; furnishing one’s home very simply; governing themselves in their community, practicing mutual aid, and so on. These were integral to their church concept – having much in common with their Amish and Hutterian cousins.
This kerchief, for my grandmother, signified both a communal expression of faith as well as an individual personal one. The personal meaning of the kerchief was twofold. First, it meant she had been baptized on her personal confession of faith. Second, it also meant she was married. Once baptized and married, women began wearing a black or dark navy kerchief.
Baptism was taken very seriously in Old Colony traditions. Every family Bible faithfully recorded not only the names of family members as these were added, along with birthdates; but, also the date they were baptized. Why enter the year of baptism, I always wondered as a child? Only later did I appreciate how important a symbol that was. One couldn’t get married in an old colony without first being baptized – true for men and women. One wouldn’t get elected to a position of ‘schultz’ (the village mayor) if one wasn’t baptized. And, if a schulz should ever become too proud of power, the community wouldn’t think twice about excommunicating him. So, baptism was important as a sign of one’s commitment to live right in the eyes of God.
The kerchief also says something about how my grandmother saw herself in relation to the larger world. You didn’t dress in a worldly way – dressing simply, and modestly. In a similar manner, my grandfather never wore a tie – that was too worldly. You kept yourself apart from the larger world if at all possible. You sought to do what was right, and not do what was wrong. You went to church every Sunday, where you participated in the service quietly and reverently. Children were expected to be still. On those two or three occasions during a year when communion was observed, you received the elements in a white hankerchief as that symbolized purity of the spirit. These are just a few of many ways in which faith was viewed corporately and collectively.
Our old colony brothers and sisters are not without fault, and sometimes are vulnerable to criticism as being overly rigid, overly concerned about the centrality of the group and not enough concerned about the individual; and, sometimes their faith is interpreted as too shallow. These traits can and do get their communities into trouble. Yet, I am not convinced our urban, educated congregations are any less vulnerable to criticisms. Sometimes their emphasis leans too far towards towards the ‘collective’ end of the two poles. Yet, I am grateful that my grandmother’s community continues to set out an example of what it means to be non-conformist. It provides an important corrective to the powerfully seductive forces of individualism that North American culture around us exhudes. It gives an anchor to the rest of us.
Balancing the Personal and the Collective
So, as I think on today’s Lectionary readings in light of my grandmother’s faith tradition, it strikes me that one can read them with a collectivist sensibility at least as easily as an individualistic one.
Take the writings of the Prophet Jeremiah. When the prophet speaks to God’s covenant written on the heart, our North American minds almost automatically convert this to mean ‘on my heart’. That’s a powerful and romantic interpretation. Yet, that is not what the passage says. It’s speaks to house of Israel as a collective: ”For this is the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel after those days, declares the Lord: I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts. And I will be their God, and they shall be my people”(31:33).
Our readings from the Gospel of John are a little more ambigous, but even here there is ample room for a collectivist understanding. In verse 26, when Jesus says “whoever serves me the Father will honor”, there certainly is a personal invitation. Yet, my experience with the Middle Eastern tradition suggests even this verse would also have been interpreted in a more collectivist sense – that, together, you and I and our people, we will serve.
What I am reminded of is that both poles – the collective as well as the individual – are important to our expression of faith. They both need to be held simultaneously, in some tension with each other.
A robust faith can’t just be personal. It must be embedded within, and supported by, a group of people we trust and have confidence in. That’s when faith becomes robust and firm and able to withstand challenge.
A collective faith involves the mutual hope of a group. It’s not merely the concern of an individual, although it can begin with the thinking of individuals. In a healthy tension, the thinking of an individual about faith issues is tested against the collective expression of faith. We know this at TUMC – at least at a cognitive level; yet, it is always important to remind ourselves of it.
More importantly, to grow morally and spiritually, or to aid others in their growth, and to make a coherent witness to the world, I need a group with focus and purpose within which my personal faith can rest. And, if my faith is challenged by forces from the individualistic world about me, the collective – the faith community – is a place of support and affirmation.
Collective faith provides more than a testing ground and a source of support, though. Collective faith represents a unified vision that can fuel the activities of an entire congregation, indeed, the much larger Mennonite fellowship, in order that a collective dream may be realized in history. What a collective expression of faith does is provide a corporately inter-connected spiritual path for a group of believers to practice seriously their faith – you, I, each one of us, together. Without such shared vision neither worship nor ministry can reasonably reach any depth.
So, what I’ve come to in thinking about my grandmother’s faith tradition, and the North American individualistic context we are in, is the conviction that it is only when we balance the personal and the collective – that we consciously hold them in tension with each other – it’s only then that we as Mennonite Anabaptists can claim a unique Christian witness. It is then that we speak with an authentic and coherent voice, somewhat different from most others, to the powers of our age.
God be with us! Amen!