Jeremiah 10:1-5
Amos 8:4-10
On April 22, 1715, a total eclipse darkened the skies in England. Two days later, the Rev. Joseph Burroughs preached a sermon to his Baptist congregation, called simply: “A Sermon Preached on the Occasion of the Total Eclipse of the Sun.” [i] (My guess is that he didn’t need to come up with something catchy to put on the message board outside of his church.)
The eclipse was, the Rev. Burroughs said, “too remarkable to be neglected.” He remarked that there were some in England—even at that time—who experienced the event a eliciting “fear and judgment.” At the same time, some of a certain religious bent seemed to take a “malicious joy” in spreading such fear.
Of course, the Rev. Burroughs, who knew his Bible and something of the ways of God, said that there was nothing to fear. He knew what had been known for quite some time—like all such phenomena, that solar eclipse was caused by the natural courses of the sun and the moon. If anything, it suggested the well-ordering of God’s good creation rather than the destruction of that order and the end of the age.
Quoting the text from Jeremiah that we heard this morning, he told the people: “Be not dismayed at the signs of the heavens.”
Nearly a century later, on June 16, 1806, a solar eclipse in the United States prompted the Rev. Joseph Lathrop to tell the First Congregational Church of West Springfield, Massachusetts, on the following Sunday that this event was “not an omen of any particular calamity,” although he added that it “may properly lead us to contemplate the gloomy changes that await us.”[ii]
He was, of course, referring to age and death.
But: “The gloomy changes that await us”—that seems like a great title for an eclipse sermon! Maybe I should have used it.
Tomorrow, of course, is the Big One—the first transcontinental solar eclipse in the United States in nearly a century. From Oregon to South Carolina the sky will darken, the birds will sing their evening songs, and the stars will come out.
Carbondale, Illinois is at the crossroads of this and another solar eclipse that will occur seven years from now. And you know how much I love Carbondale—I’m a third-generation Saluki. Several months ago my dear friend since grade school, Craig, suggested that we need to get ourselves down there for this event—he’s a Saluki as well. Lodging, however, was already scarce. Southern Illinois University was offering dorm rooms for something like $800 a night—and they were sold out. My aunt is the nurse at a Presbyterian church camp on nearby Little Grassy Lake. She told me that she could get bunks in a cabin for $150 per person per night with a three night minimum—add that there would be no clergy discount!
My sister lives an hour’s drive to the northeast of Carbondale. While that town is holding a multi-day “Totality Fest,” it is actually just out of the totality. But my sister did say that I could stay at her place—and she wouldn’t even charge me! But as I said, that location is only offering 99.6% of totality. And someone said that missing the totality is like standing outside of the opera house and saying that you heard the opera.
I’m staying in Iowa City. In seven years ________ will be in the totality. Craig lives in ______. And I’m sure he’ll have a room for me—free, or at a reduced rate.
Some of our members are not here this morning because they have hit the road to see the totality. My guess is that those of you here today are staying here.
Wherever we are, how can we look at this eclipse?
As clergy have been saying for well over three centuries, it is not an occasion of fear—although some “religious” people even in these days want to ignore the word of Jeremiah and find in this event a portent of the end. Strange websites are popping up, claiming that now is the end.
On the other hand, Forbes published an article last week suggesting that millennials in particular might benefit from the eclipse: “If you’ve been considering ending a relationship or leaving behind a job that’s no longer the right fit for you,” the article says, “now could be the time to do it. Eclipses represent a time of transition as one thing comes to a close and another begins. You can capitalize on the upcoming eclipse by opening up a new chapter of your life, such as taking a new career initiative.”
So millennials, strike while the iron is hot—or while the sky is dark.[iii]
Perhaps we can take a playful approach to this, remembering the ancient creation story in Genesis. In it we are told that God put two great lights in the sky: the sun to rule by day and the moon by night. Sometimes, like tomorrow, however, the moon takes over the day. The moon, it seems, just won’t do as it’s told. We know ourselves as creatures who don’t always follow the ways of our Creator—and so, too, the moon. The moon is—what?—a rebel, a usurper, one that doesn’t know its place? If the moon can try something new every now and then, why not us?
Of course, our nation is not really in a playful mood right now.
If there is any larger significance to be found in tomorrow’s event, it is probably in the sense that a shadow has fallen across our country, like this eclipse, from sea to shining sea. Recent events confirm this dismal reading of the heavens. There is a sense of foreboding as, along with those Congregationalists in Massachusetts 200 years ago, we too “contemplate the gloomy changes that await us.”
Indeed, in preaching to the faithful in West Springfield, the Rev. Lathrop expounded on those words of Amos that we heard this morning: “On that day, says the Lord God, I will make the sun go down at noon, and darken the earth in broad daylight.” The prophet, he said, was speaking of both a metaphorical and a political darkness. And we, too, are familiar with both.
In recent weeks our attention and concern has looked overseas to North Korea’s missile development program. We worried that the growing tensions between two unstable leaders would bring us to a nuclear confrontation. National newspaper articles started showing up telling people what to do if a nuclear bomb was detonated anywhere near them. A headline in the Press-Citizen asked: “N. Korea’s posturing raises question: Is Iowa prepared for a nuclear strike?” A disturbing question most hadn’t asked for some time.
The even deeper shadow is, of course, the rise of white nationalism and our president’s failure to condemn it in no uncertain terms.
Last Sunday we worshipped here with heavy hearts after the violent, murderous display of white nationalism in Charlottesville. We were still waiting as a congregation and as a nation for the president to denounce the KKK and the Nazis and the white supremacists and everything they stand for, after his pointed equivocation about “both sides” on Saturday. His words on Monday were basically taken back during his interview in New York on Tuesday and he continued in that vein for the rest of the week. Business and labor leaders and artists along with politicians and military leaders distanced themselves from the president. Racists and white nationalists praised what he said.
If I may speak plainly and personally for a moment—and certainly not with a prophetic: “Thus says the Lord.” This has been a year filled with all manner of disturbing news. I have spoken from this pulpit with honesty and conviction, recognizing that people in this congregation hold different views, that in this congregation we all have the freedom of our own conscience and convictions, and that no one is expected or required to agree with anyone else, including me. And when I have preached about issues in the news, I have diligently sought to focus on the issues rather than on individuals.
Many others of all political views spoke out against what the President said. And this morning I have to add my voice and say that we as a nation are saddled with a president lacking a moral compass, unable to speak the truth, and supportive of the most despicable behavior during a time that requires leadership that calls forth our better nature.
This means, doesn’t it, that our voices—yours and mine, Republican and Democrat, libertarian and socialist—need to be strong in speaking the truth, our actions need to be more visible, as together we call our nation to repentance and to living out our initial creed that all people are created equal. The task is not only yours and mine as individuals. This is our calling as a congregation that follows in the way of Jesus Christ.
We don’t need the reminder, but tomorrow’s eclipse tells us we are in a time of deep shadows, when the light is sorely needed.
Yes, even now some are positive. They remind us of the ways in which the eclipse unites us as a nation. Whether we join the millions of others getting in their cars and heading to Carbondale and other places of totality or simply go over to the Pentecrest to share this even with others, we will be one people looking up to the sky.
And in this we just might find our hope.
This morning we read the words of the Psalmist:
When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers,
the moon and the stars you have set in their courses,
what are human beings that you should be mindful of them?
When we look at the heavens—whether to see the moon and the stars at night or the strangely fading afternoon light—we look with wonder.
To look at the heavens is to be reminded of our finitude, our smallness. In the vastness of the universe, our own solar system is almost non-existent. The universe itself is mostly “enigmatic dark matter.” The distance to even the nearest stars and empty space between are so vast that they make us dizzy.
To look at the heavens is to be reminded of our limits. We are bound to this earth, bound to these few years, watching star light that started toward us long before this church was founded, long before the time of Jesus and the Hebrew prophets.
Sometimes to look at the heavens is to feel small and limited and painfully alone in it all.
But to look at the heavens is also to sense that we are part of something far greater than ourselves and our world. Owen Gingerich, the wonderful Mennonite astronomer who spoke here a few years ago put it this way: “For me, part of the coherency of the universe is that it is purposeful—though probably it takes the eyes of faith to accept that idea.”
To look at the heavens is also to hope that in and beyond all the distance and the light and the shadows is a Creator who still knows us creatures.
We look up to the heavens in the hope that beyond the beginning—and beyond the ending—is One who is both beginning and end, first and last. We hope. In our finitude and our smallness, we hope and we wonder.
An eclipse is certainly a thing of wonder. One person said recently: “It shouldn’t happen. After all, the diameter of the sun is four hundred times greater than the diameter of the moon. But the sun is also four hundred times the moon’s distance from the earth. These ratios make a solar eclipse possible.[iv]
Looking in wonder at the heavens, the Psalmist speaks again:
You have made us but little lower than the angels;
you adorn us with glory and honor.
Look to the heavens tomorrow and you will see more than shadows and diminishing light. You will be reminded that all people are created in the image of God. All of us carry the Creator’s ability to love, to bring order out of chaos, to seek the good.
Look at the heavens and let them speak of the light that shines in the darkness, of the hope that conquers despair, of the love that is stronger than hate, stronger than death.
Like the one in 1715—and really all others—tomorrow’s eclipse is too remarkable to be neglected. Let us take note. Let us look with awe and wonder. And so renewed, let us return to the work before us, shining light into the shadow places of our nation and our world.
[i]https://books.google.com/books?id=WURpAAAAcAAJ&pg=PA7&lpg=PA7&dq=worship+and+the+total+eclipse&source=bl&ots=A7g-mKh-uk&sig=dHtBchZ8-0Ts2KbBqX_aWUncxYs&hl=en&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwioxZG18rjVAhVr5IMKHThnAFw4ChDoAQhAMAQ#v=onepage&q=worship%20and%20the%20total%20eclipse&f=false
[ii]https://books.google.com/books?id=Gn_QL9IwzAEC&pg=PA1&lpg=PA1&dq=joseph+lathrop+1806+sermon+eclipse&source=bl&ots=G5UpXmibL7&sig=qPW9Sfz70n63cpZbdF2j37HTfNw&hl=en&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjV0cCXn9zVAhVk2IMKHULaC3AQ6AEISDAH#v=onepage&q=joseph%20lathrop%201806%20sermon%20eclipse&f=false.
[iii] https://www.forbes.com/sites/julesschroeder/2017/08/14/millennials-heres-how-to-use-the-total-solar-eclipse-to-your-advantage/#17de01115765