“An Extended Thanksgiving”
November 26, 2017
Jeremiah 29:4-14
Ephesians 1:15-23
I recognize that my sermon title, “An Extended Thanksgiving,” could warm the hearts of some and fill others with dread. For some it conjures up an image of continued gathering with family, eating and talking together—hence the warm hearts. For others, it conjures up an image of, well, of continued gathering with family, eating and talking together—hence the dread.
In these days after Thanksgiving, we try to get our bearings once more—righting ourselves and gearing up for the happy and hectic days ahead. As we near the end of a year in which “disruption” has become the new normal, as we near the end of a year in which chaos seems to reign, we hear in scripture the surprising yet hoped-for good news that God has “put all things under Christ and made Christ the head of all things for the church, which is the body of Christ.”
It’s easy, on first hearing those words from Ephesians to let them roll over us. They can strike us as an abstract theological statement with no connection to our individual lives or our life as a congregation.
But as I read though this letter once more—and I encourage you to do this in the week ahead—I tended to agree with the New Testament scholar who said that “no part of the New Testament has a more contemporary relevance than the Letter to the Ephesians. It speaks to people in a world of racial, ethnic, and religious tension. It addresses human beings who are menaced by fear of the unknown and uncertain future. It speaks to the challenges that people have as they live together before God. That is to say, it speaks to us.”[i]
Someone described the scripture lesson from Ephesians an “extended thanksgiving,” And whether you would like a longer holiday or not, this letter encourages in us both gratitude and hope, not just in these days between Thanksgiving and the beginning Advent next Sunday, but throughout all of our lives.
The words that we heard this morning are rooted in prayer—which means that they are rooted in real life.
It’s probably true for all members of a congregation—of this congregation—but speaking as someone with that strange calling to pastoral leadership, I find my prayers to be a mixture of gratitude and hope—gratitude that we are, by God’s grace, a congregation so filled with ability, so rich in all good gifts, so flush with a wealth of talent; and hope that all of us individually and as a community might know God’s power at work in us and among us and through us.
When we listen closely, we sense that there is something important happening in the mundane life of the church in Ephesus—something of significance for all creation. Edgardo A. Colón-Emeric, who teaches at Duke Divinity School, says that “As ridiculous as it might sound, God called the Christian community at Ephesus to be a sign of the age to come. By eating together in friendship, they actively participated in the unfolding of God’s purpose for creation. By joining together in the singing of psalms, hymns and spiritual songs, this small band of disciples witnessed that there is one body, one Spirit, one hope, one Lord, one faith, one baptism, and one God of all, who is above all and through all and in all. In short, God called the little flock at Ephesus to be a sacrament of Christ’s work of cosmic reconciliation.”
“Cosmic reconciliation.” I know—it sounds pretty abstract.
But here we are two thousand years later, still doing the some of the same things as that congregation in Ephesus—still eating together, still singing together, still showing in our life together the faith that God is at work in us and among us. And I think there are wide-ranging and far reaching implications—what we might call cosmic—in all that we are doing.
Listen again as the author of this letter expresses a great desire: “I pray…that you may know what is
the hope to which God has called you,
what are the riches of God’s glorious inheritance among the saints,
and what is the immeasurable greatness of God’s power for us who believe.”
Those words pile on top of each other, building to a crescendo that has been echoing in my mind all week.
These words do not speak of empty hope, greedy wealth, or blind power.
They tell of the hope of the resurrection, the riches of the resurrection, and the power of the resurrection. The prayer is that we might come to know, day by day, in this life, that the way in which God acted in raising Christ from death is the way in which God continues to act in the world—bringing new life to us, bringing new life through us.
Scripture points us toward hope—the attitude that “It’s earlier than we think,” to borrow the phrase that the 20th century computer pioneer Vannever Bush coined when he was 77.
I like that. It’s earlier than we think.
There’s still time.
There is still time for the world—and for us—to exhibit more of God’s desire for abundance and life for all creation.
There is still time for our individual lives to show respect for and acceptance of other human beings—all created in the image of God.
There is still time for this congregation to bring the love of God to a hurting world.
This is what it means to speak of “the hope of the resurrection.” It is as much a hope for the living of these days as it is a hope for an afterlife. Because we can see by hope resurrection beyond death, we can dare by hope to act for the good even when confronted by all that disheartens and discourages.
Hope invites us to look beyond disruption and chaos, beyond despair, beyond fear and death to what might be—to the peace of God that fills the world and the universe—and to start moving toward what we see.
This hope affirms that the goodness of God pervades all of creation. Yes, the evidence for such goodness sometimes seems skimpy at best, but as a member of this congregation once told me: “Absence of evidence does not mean evidence of absence.”
Remember the ancient Jewish people in exile in Babylon—their homes destroyed, their country overrun. They were carried to a distant land with foreign gods. They faced the absence of evidence of the compassionate mercy of God.
How were they to live under such circumstances?
The prophet Jeremiah told them to plant gardens and eat what they produced; to marry and have children; to seek the welfare of the city in which they found themselves.
That is, they were to live as though they had a future.
They were to live with hope.
In all the storms and turmoil, hope is always a possibility for our lives.
Along with the words of the prophet, the words from Ephesians that we heard this morning speak not only of hope but of power. “God put this power to work in Christ when God raised him from the dead and seated him at God’s right hand in the heavenly places.” Yes, that too is religious language. But we can hear those words as an amazing affirmation of the mighty power of God to bring new life to any situation, any life, any congregation.
Power is the ability to act. And each one of us is given that ability. God provides the strength and the power that allow us to act in the world.
Together we are invited to see how we can act, to discover what we can do. And through our efforts God is able, as the Letter to the Ephesians announces, to accomplish far more than we can ask or imagine.
The power in the universe wants to do more.
That power wants to work through you.
That power wants to work through this congregation.
And somewhere you knew this before you came here today. You did not come here this morning to be told to be an idle spectator. You came because you sense your ability and want to use it. You came here because you wanted to hear again the good news that there is a powerful and forgiving love that will sustain you through all the discouragement and opposition and failure as you act in the world.
Like all power, it is somewhat frightening. Because this is “holy power” it borders on the terrifying. But it also speaks to us of great possibilities.
The ability to act for the benefit of self and others is nothing less than the strength of God acting through us. Think of what might be accomplished through you by that power.
In the hope that grows from a sense of God’s power in our lives, we come to know the abundance of resources that are at our disposal.
With the eyes of our hearts enlightened, we see that we have no cause to beg or cajole or plead. All that we need—and all that we would want to share with the rest of the world—we have. Let us keep that awareness always before us.
In the ancient letter to the Ephesians we hear a prayer for our time, a prayer for what we might know: hope, riches, power.
Hope, riches, power. Lots of people want just those things. And God has made them all available—here and now.
We know the hope that gives us a horizon, we know the power that allows us to move toward that horizon, and we know the riches that can be used on that journey.
Let us, then, with gratitude and hope extend our thanksgiving into the days ahead—days that have their own unique challenges and possibilities.
To paraphrase that Duke Divinity School professor: As ridiculous as it might sound, God called not only the Christian community at Ephesus but also this congregation to be a sign of the age to come.