Sermon: In Their Shalom, You Will Find Yours

Jeremiah 29:1, 4-7

In Their Shalom, You Will Find Yours

James Sledge                                      October 13, 2019

Has the ground ever shifted under your feet, something you thought sure, permanent, certain, unchanging, suddenly failed you? For much of the 20^th century, American factory workers assumed there would always be good, high-paying manufacturing jobs with pensions for them and their children. But then factories began to close, and jobs began to dry up.

On a more personal level, someone you counted on, the one person you were certain would always be there for you, suddenly betrays you. It could be a spouse, a best friend, a child, a parent, but the trauma of such a betrayal can leave people unmoored and at a loss for what to do next.

American Christianity, or perhaps I should say, American churches have experienced the ground shake under them as well. It happened more gradually than a factory closing or a spouse leaving, but it has been no less devastating for many congregations.

When America sought a return to “normal” after World War II, church was assumed to be a big part of that normal. As suburbs exploded in the 1950s, denominations put scores of new churches in them. Mainline denominations like Presbyterians, Lutherans, Methodists, and Episcopalians used a formula that almost always worked. If we build it, they will come. People were “supposed” to go to church, and so the new neighborhood churches easily found new members while existing congregations built additions to handle all the people.

Those were heady times for Presbyterians and others. We enjoyed significant influence in the public square. Our seminaries were filled with bright young minds. Denominational headquarters swelled and expanded. “The Protestant Hour” was broadcast on over 600 radio stations nationwide, as well as on the Armed Forces Network.

I grew up assuming that you went to church on Sunday morning, unless you were Jewish. It was a fairly safe assumption in 1960s South Carolina. Nothing much else happened on Sunday morning. The stores and movie theaters were closed. The pool didn’t open until after lunch, and no youth sports team even thought about playing or practicing.

I suspect that many congregations assumed it would always be so. The suburbs would keep growing and so would the churches. We would keep building new churches, keep holding worship services, and the people would keep streaming in, encouraged by a culture that expected religious participation as a part of American citizenship.

But for many of you here today, such a world has never existed. You grew up with Sunday soccer leagues, walk-a-thons, 5Ks, and other community events. Almost no businesses closed on Sunday, and church was just one option in a plethora of them.

Somewhere along the line, the culture decided it didn’t need to prop up the church. It quit expecting people to attend and quit making it so there was nothing else to do on Sunday morning. But it happened slowly, over time, and so Mainline denominations and congregations didn’t notice at first and acted like nothing had changed. We continued with our “if we build it, they will come” strategy, long after people quit showing up. In all three parts of the country where I’ve served as a pastor, I saw new church developments that were failing because they never drew enough people to pay the mortgage.

Not that no one realized what was happening. Some voices called for change, sounded the alarm about continuing old methods built on archaic assumptions. Our denomination has had a number of evangelism initiatives over the last few decades and began talking about congregations as mission outposts to their neighborhoods. But old habits die hard. As a colleague once tweeted, “If the 1950s ever come back, we’re ready.”

If the prophet Jeremiah lived in our day, he might feel a bit of déjà vu. He had warned the religious and political leaders for years that they could not continue on with business as usual, but almost no one listened. As the threat of the Babylonian Empire grew larger, Jeremiah counseled surrender. But the priests and the palace insisted that they were God’s special, blessed people. Babylon was just a blip on the radar. Jerusalem was permanent.

Even after Babylon defeated Judah the first time and carried leading citizens into exile, many continued to insist it was but a momentary setback. Things would soon return to normal, a hope completely crushed when Babylon destroyed Jerusalem ten years later.

Our Scripture passage occurs after the first wave of exiles but before Jerusalem’s destruction and a larger wave of exiles a decade later. Babylon is no blip on the radar, the prophet insists. Defeat and exile, this earthquake that has shaken loose all the moorings of life for Judah and Jerusalem, is for the long haul. Make plans accordingly.

People sometimes use the metaphor of exile to speak of the Church’s dislocation from the center of culture, our loss of status and prestige. We don’t have actual enemies who threaten our existence. We’ve not had church buildings destroyed or our faith leaders drug off. But especially for Mainline denominations like ours, the metaphor seems to fit, and this sense of exile has caused us to relook at our relationship to the culture.

How should church relate to the world. Some groups decided long ago that faith and the world are incompatible. The Amish choose to live apart from the culture, seeing that as the only way to preserve a true faith. Others see the culture as a target for conversion. It needs to redeemed or saved, rescued from its captivity to evil, godless secularism, and such. Some see culture as an enemy to be defeated and brought forcefully into line with “God’s ways.”

The prophet Jeremiah, however, commends none of these approaches to the actual exiles from Judah. Thus says the LORD… But seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the LORD on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare.

If wonder if these words apply to our metaphorical exile. The Hebrew word translated “welfare” is shalom. Its meaning includes welfare, but it is a much richer word, also meaning peace, soundness, completeness. What would it mean for us to seek the shalom of a world that has largely abandoned us? What would it mean to say that our shalom rests on the shalom of the world around us?

Think about how we as a church view the world, the community around us. Presbyterian churches have often thought of the community as a potential source of new members, but have often done worship and ministry without much thought of them. Church has often been a very inwardly focused enterprise, something often reflected in church architecture where heavy doors and stain glass windows sequester worshippers from the world.

Seek the shalom of the community around you. Pray to God on their behalf, for in its shalom you shall find yours.

Jesus said to love our neighbors as ourselves, and as with Jeremiah, Jesus insists this love must extend even to enemies. Could it be that our welfare, our shalom is indeed wrapped up in that of our neighbor, in that of a culture that hasn’t much use for us? Could it be that the hope of God’s new day, even our own salvation, is to be found in turning outward and seeking the shalom of our neighbor, our community, our world?

All praise and glory to our God, who so loves the world, and who calls us to be the body of Christ in and for the world.