Sermon - Lengths in the Chain

Hebrews 11:39-12:2

Lengths in the Chain

James Sledge                                                                                       November 4, 2012

I subscribe to a magazine called The Christian Century. It’s been around since the late 1800s, and long served as a prominent  voice for liberal, Mainline Protestantism.  But I mention the magazine today, simply because of its name, The Christian Century.

It took that name at the dawn of the Twentieth century as America and its churches entered a new era brimming with hope and optimism. The remarkable technological advances of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries led many to believe that humankind was on the verge of solving all sorts of problems, from wiping out diseases to increasing agricultural production so that hunger might soon be a thing of the past.

The dawn of the Twentieth Century was accompanied by a nearly unshakable faith in human progress, a view shared by American Christianity. The missionary movement had grown exponentially in the late 1800s, and many in the church, both conservative and liberal, envisioned a fast approaching day when the gospel truly had been carried to all the world.  Along with utopian visions of a world without poverty, hunger or childhood diseases, there would be a parallel progress in the advancement of faith.  The world would progress and become Christian, and so it would be the Christian Century. And from that optimism, the magazine took its name.

Obviously things didn’t work out quite like people expected. Barely a decade into the new century, World War I broke out, demonstrating clearly that “progress” also meant progress in our ability to maim, kill, and terrorize on a scale that had previously seemed unimaginable.

And that was followed shortly after by a worldwide Great Depression that makes our current economic difficulties look like a party.  Then came World War II, the Holocaust, and nuclear weapons.  No one was any longer talking about the inexorable march of progress toward an ideal human society. 

At the same time, anti-colonialism movements were accompanied by a resurgence of indigenous faiths such as Islam, Hinduism, or Buddhism, and talk of bringing the kingdom began to subside.  There was not going to be a Christian Century, and with the loss of such hope, faith took on a more personal focus.  Faith was about getting right with God personally. It was primarily about believing the right things, being moral, and getting a ticket to heaven, to a better place.

Now, barely a decade into the Twenty-first Century, notions of a Christian century are an anachronism.  There’s not a lot of optimism in the Mainline Church these days, although you can find plenty who say that the church’s days are numbered.  In our denomination, churches with full sanctuaries, lots of children and post baby boomer members, congregations doing well like this one, are something of an anomaly.

As the Church and our denomination face an uncertain future, I wonder if we are not in a place a bit like those addressed in our New Testament reading for today.  There was no magazine called The Christian Century, but the early Christian movement did have a sense of optimism that the world was about to be transformed.  The first Christians expected Jesus to return in years or perhaps a few decades, and then a new age would begin.  But as more and more decades passed, such hopes began to fade.

The preacher of the sermon we call “The Letter to the Hebrews” addresses a somewhat disillusioned congregation.  Their energy has been sapped by disappointment at the slowness of Christ’s return and by occasional persecutions.  Commitment has waned, and no doubt some have abandoned the faith entirely.  And so the preacher gives them a pep talk.

The preacher reminds them of the great faith heroes of the past – Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and Moses.  He speaks of prophets and those who persevered in the face of prison, torture, and even death.  But then the sermon takes a remarkable turn.  Despite the great faith of such heroes, despite their endurance in the face of all obstacles, they did not make it.  They did not receive what had been promised.

What a strange pep talk, a bad pep talk.  But then the preacher explains why.  God had provided something better.  They could not make it, says the preacher, could not receive the promise, without you, without us.

I wonder, can Twenty-first Century Americans, with our extremely individualistic worldview, embrace such a message?  Can we accept that the hope of saints from the past somehow runs through us?  Or that that our own hope runs through saints not yet born?

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In the Apostles’ Creed, which we will say in just a few moments, we profess a belief in “the communion of saints.”  We say that by the Spirit, the saints – all those joined to Christ – are somehow linked together, joined in a mystical community that reaches back into history and forward to history’s completion.  Our faith is not simply about us, our well-being or fulfillment.  Our faith joins us to a larger purpose, to the grand sweep of all history.

I think it is difficult for most 21^st Century Americans to engage in such mystical thinking.  Our short term focus, our individualism, our rationalism all get in the way. But there is something profoundly hopeful about realizing that we surrounded by and joined to a great cloud of witnesses. We are not in this by ourselves or for ourselves. Our faithfulness is part of a long term project that “perfects” those who went before us, that draws them toward completion.  And the faithfulness of others pulls us forward, too.

All the saints stretching back through the centuries, together form a long chain of faith that draws all history forward, anchored to “the pioneer and perfecter of our faith,” Jesus the Messiah.  And today, in a number of ways, we celebrate that communion of saints.  We gather at the table, spiritually participating in the great banquet where we are fed and nourished by our Lord Jesus. We remember the saints who have gone before us, knowing that our efforts are joined to theirs, and that we are bound together as one in that great chain of faith.  And we commit ourselves to the ongoing work of the church as we make our financial commitments, promising to run with perseverance our portion of the great relay of faith.

Surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses, those from this congregation and all the faithful of the past, knowing that we are vital lengths in a chain that stretches back to Abraham and Sarah, and beyond, we lay aside the sin, the distractions, the voices that say our efforts don’t matter.  And we move forward, following Jesus, our pioneer and perfecter, whose own faithfulness guides us and shows us the way.