Transcript

be here. I appreciate the invitation by Bishop Blackburn and from Mike Milloy and from the Convocation Committee. And for the context of this worship, the material for which was very appropriate and very moving to me. And for this pulpit, which is not too bad. It seldom I get this opportunity to preach in a pulpit that I'm not hanging on to, trying to see over. When I first started teaching in seminary, I was 6 '3". It's worn me down to brightly nothing. I teach preaching. Most of you know that, which means that I not only have classes in preaching, but I feel and have been given a rather large responsibility in the care of words. Not just around school, but also in the churches. Others are appointed to care for souls. My job is to care for the vocabulary of the church. It's important. And the work takes me not only into the classroom and sometimes into the churches to preach, but on some unusual assignments. Sometimes, for instance, I have the delightful experience of sharing and retirement services for all words that are not used anymore. We retire words. I was down in Savannah, Georgia, to retire the word tolerable. It was a nice service. There were about nine elderly people picketing outside. They said the word was still a good word, but Savannah retired the word. I was over in Murphy, North Carolina just recently for the retirement of Wright Smart. It was a moving service. I'm going over to Birmingham early April for the retirement of played out. You turn off the highway and go down this dirt road till it plays out. Apparently the word has played out. Sometimes the work of caring for words is exciting. I have been called in almost as the deputy to help retrieve words that have been stolen. It was a church in North Atlanta out in the Sandy Springs area. Someone had burglarized the church and had gotten into the room where the church keeps its vocabulary and had taken one of the finest, oldest words, a biblical word. And the church was very distraught. It was the word charismatic. And the word was found later. I didn't find it, but one of the others looking for it, found it on the street. It was being used for everything in politics. Or he'll be elected. He's charismatic. It was used in beauty parlors. It was used everywhere. But we did get the word and we took it back and put it in the vault. The minister says he never uses it, but he won't. I have been to court. I have to testify sometimes when one of our words is falsely charged. I think falsely charged. The word charity was up in Superior Court Dekalb County, Georgia just recently. Charged with laudering and vagrancy. Some people said, I don't know if it's true, some people said that charity had been hanging out around downtown. Passing out smelly worn out old clothes. And food that some fat people didn't want anymore. And fixing broken toys and handing them out to children on the street. So I was called to testify and I did the best I could. I told the jury and the judge all that I knew. Charity is not that at all. Charity has excellent family background. A quality word. The mother is Latin, caritas. The father is Greek, charis. I told them that the word is sometimes translated grace. Sometimes it's translated gratitude. Sometimes it's translated gift. But it's a beautiful word. I don't know. I don't know what to do with it. Sometimes I go to churches, help them pronounce words. Oh, I don't mean simple little words like hypotenuse and chinkapen and ovibris and vivibris and ovovivibris and things like that. I mean the really tough is that some churches seldom ever say words like God and Christ and Holy Spirit. Oh, churches talk. They say we've got a nice minister and a nice building and nice underscoop and nice fellowship and a nice church and a nice location. But don't know how to say God. So I sometimes helped that way. It seemed appropriate then when I was invited to come here to bring some words. My wife packed me and she said, is this all you're taking? And I said, well, I looked at it. There were my underwear and socks and pajamas, a couple of shirts and ties and toothbrush and shaving stuff. And I said, yeah, I believe that's it. And she said, but there are only two words here. You usually take more words than that. You're just going to take there's plenty of room. You take some more words. I said, no, I think I'll just take two words. But now that I'm here, I should have listened to her because the word I want to share with you tonight is such a commonplace little old word. I'm kind of embarrassed. It's the word place, place, not space, place. Space is another word. Space is a word we use when two people have place, but it's too close together. I need space. I need some distance. I don't mean turf. Hear that a lot now. Turf, my turf. I don't know why that minister keeps coming back to have weddings and funerals. This is my turf. I was told that when I went to Candler, want to propose a new course. And they said, well, you have to go through the committees and give copies to all the faculty. And I said, why, why all that? And they said, well, I have some issues of turf here. Turf is when a lot of people are claiming the same place. I don't mean turf. I don't like that word turf. It has a high fence around it. Electric charge and a doberman pincher and no trespassing. I mean just a simple word place. No, I know it's a simple word and it's easy to pronounce, but sometimes it's an ugly word. Boy, it's an ugly word sometimes in our culture. I've heard it in a very ugly ways. The woman's place. You've heard that the woman's place is in the home. Well, I don't mind if they move into this neighborhood as long as they stay in their place, ugly word. But usually, at least in my hearing, it's a beautiful word. Why don't you all come over to my place? There's always a place for you at the table. There's no place like home. I have a warm place in my heart for her. I go to prepare a place for you. But whether it's ugly or beautiful, it's a very important word. I thought of it today in thinking about Dr. King, how often he used the expression he did in that Grand Washington speech. I have a dream. He used it there. Our rightful place. I heard a minister in Los Angeles some years ago, a black minister in his 70s, preach on the text, knock, and it shall be open to you. And he looked down at us and called us boys and girls. And he said, you'll never know the meaning of that expression until you have stood a lifetime with bloody knuckles knocking on a locked door that says there is no place for you. It's a big word. It's a word that helps us to understand a lot of human feeling and a lot of human activity. I was not too long ago returned to Oklahoma where I had taught for years to make a speech at a church and on the plane going into Oklahoma City. I sat next three seats across and there was a man near me and his wife as it turned out, young couple. I struck up conversation. I could tell they'd been on the holiday. They'd been on vacation because of what they're wearing. Some people always wear their vacation home with them. And I could not only tell they'd been on vacation, but where they'd been. I said, you've been on vacation? They said, yeah. You've been to Europe? She said, yes. I said, what countries did you visit? He said, all them little countries crouched up together. You can't tell when you're in one or the other. And I knew then it was her trip, not his. And so I asked her, I said, what was your favorite place? She said, oh, my favorite place was the Alps. Oh, it just took my breath away. I could have spent forever there. We took pictures, but I'm sure it's just unbelievable beauty. The plain Lord, no smoking sun and everything, came on fast and seatbelt. As the plane dipped down toward Oklahoma City Airport, she rumbled around through a bag and pulled out a camera and pressed it against the window and started clicking. And I said, pardon me, you've been in the Alps and you're taking pictures of Oklahoma? And she looked at me with level gaze and said, but this is home. Breeze there a man with soul so dead who never to himself has said, this is my own, my native land. Whose heart has ne'er within him burned as home as footsteps he did turn from wandering on a foreign strand. And the daughter said, is she prepared to go back to San Francisco? Now, mother, get your things together. You're going home with us. And mother said, no. And the daughter said, well, now that dad is dead, there's nothing holding you here. We've all moved away. And I don't want you staying here by yourself. I'm not by myself. Mother, I don't want to hear anything about it. Get your stuff together. We'll arrange about the furniture later, but you're coming home. No, no, no. I want to stay here. I have my church and I have my friends. And I have my memories. And this is my place. And the children ran all through this new little house, a bath in five rooms built by volunteers, habitat for humanity. And that woman and those three little girls stood there, that woman's eyes brimming with tears, and the children running into each room and back and pulling at her skirt. Mama, is this our place? Mama, is this our place? Off that running back. Mama. And she said, yes, yes, yes, yes. Look at their eyes. Look at their eyes. I'm talking about the word place. Can you still pronounce the word place? Been trying to trout fish. North Georgia. Don't know how. Hang up in the trees and they tell me there are no fish in the trees. I was coming out of Carter K. Creek another unsuccessful day, but I'd gotten wet and the hook was wet and I was making progress. And there was a man and a woman driving the car down by the bank, turned it alongside the creek. And they got out and as I got out of the creek, I said, going fish? And he said, no. They opened the trunk, got out a couple of these little flex chairs, folding chairs. I said, oh, you have picnic? And he said, no. And they put the chairs out in front of the car and sat there. Well, I was ready to go, but couldn't stand it, of course. I said, what are you doing? He said, I'm a minister in the United Methodist Church. I'm going to retire in two years. We've lived over 40 years in the church's houses. I bought an acre here along the creek and we're going to have a place of our own. I'm talking place. You have to have that word to understand the Bible. I mean, from the very beginning to Adam and Eve, the Almighty said, you'll have to leave this place. You have to leave. And to Cain, after he killed his brother, God gave him the worst, worst punishment there was. He said, you're never going to have a place in your life. No place. It's the only way to understand the history of Israel, the intense, sometimes violent crying, praying, fighting, longing, grasping for that slender slip of a piece of land which they call our place. It's necessary to understand the story of Abraham and Sarah, pilgrims they were back and forth from the northeast country across the little strip of Palestine to Egypt and back, pilgrims and strangers and exiles on the earth. Oh, we've made a lot out of the story. We are all children of Abraham and Sarah. We're all pilgrims. But to hear some of us preach on pilgrims, you'd think we're just kind of whistling down the road, going to somewhere with a picnic basket. No, not that way at all. Every night, every night Sarah said, Abraham, is this the place? I'm so tired of paper plates and styrofoam cups. I'd like to get out my good china and my good crystal, just one more. He said, no, we'll be moving on tomorrow. Every night is this the place? No. And then she died. She died and he didn't have a place to bury his wife. He bought a little cave and he moved on. But he quit looking for a place because one night he said to God, is this the place? And God said, Abraham, you know better than that. I'm the place. So he quit looking for real estate and began to look for the place in the city that has foundations whose builder and maker is God, the place. I remember asking Rabbi Silberman at Vanderbilt once years ago. He never used the word God. And before class, I said, what is your favorite expression for the Almighty, for God? And he looked at me quickly without hesitation and said, of all the names, my favorite is one of the oldest, the place. God is the place. That's where we all go. It's what everybody wants. Every man and woman in the world, all people disguise it. A lot of people try to be callous and felicity. Well, I don't go for all this. They don't like to get into religion. They don't like for anybody to press them or witness to them or do any of that. Oh, well, you know, don't let that fool you. They can bury it as deep as a bone. The fact is, everybody, whether it's three yards down the middle or long, 70 yard passes, everybody moves toward the place. That's how I understand my ministry. I preach about the place. I don't let any group that I have chance to talk to miss the fact that we're moving toward the place. That's why we're not just homeless, not just transients, not just displaced persons, not just aliens. We're pilgrims. We're moving toward the place. And it's my job to announce that to people. There is the place. God, we move to God. The God from whom is the God to whom we go to the place. But my ministry is not just preaching about the place. My ministry is offering people a place. In the meantime, everybody's got to have a place as we go to the place. That's what pews are for. A pew is a Christian piece of furniture. We sit together here. There's a place for you on our pew. Won't you sit here with us in the pew, a marvelous thing? Here's a place and that table, that table. Every time we approach the table, the voice comes through as clear as a bell. There's always a place for you at my table. Here, sit by me. We've already have a place set for you. Oh, I know, I know. Some of you preach it in churches. Some of the folk don't believe that you should offer a place to anybody and everybody. They still have that fated old sign up there. We reserve the right to refuse service to anyone. But you don't believe it. And the sign is way out of date. The table and the pew. And it's my marvelous opportunity to say to everybody in the world, regardless. Sure, here's a place. Sure, come to the table. There's a place for you. Now, I confess, it is easier for me to preach the place than it is always to offer a place. Because the standard by which I measure my willingness to offer anyone, anybody, any condition, a place in church is I ask myself, would I have those persons in my home? You see, sometimes it's easier to baptize a person than to eat with that person. Sometimes it's easier to invite people to church than to the parsonage. Do I really offer a place? I don't know if I'm the only one still struggles with this. I have to dig my way out of a lifetime of problem in this regard. And I think I'll make some progress and then something ugly reappears in some dark corner of my heart. And here I go again. Did any of you ever wish not that you were a better administrator or pastor or better student or a better preacher, but simply that you were a better Christian? Really? I'm sure you have. I met a Christian. I met a Christian when I was beginning my ministry or had not long been long in the ministry. The man had been an agricultural missionary. He had tried to help people in central, north-central China learn how to raise their own food and given years to it and the communists take over and he was put under house arrest and after some years he was told he could come home to America. His mission board sent him a ticket and he made his way to India where he was to take passage to this country. While he was at this port in India waiting for the ship he was to come home on, he learned that a boatload, a shipload of Jews, you know, back then in the late 40s no country would accept the Jews. They had no place. They just went around from here to there looking. They had pulled that ship in there at that port and they were allowed to stay in barn lofts and back buildings and all. And this man I'm talking about, his name was Oswald Goldter. He heard about it and he went to them and it was a Christmas time and he went to a barn where a bunch of them were and he said, Merry Christmas! And they said, We're Jewish. He said, I know but it's Christmas. He said, What do you want for Christmas? They said, We're Jewish. He said, I know but it's Christmas. What would you like for Christmas and finally to put off this strange man they said some German pastry. Well, he scoured the city and he found a bakery that made it and he cashed in his ticket to America and bought baskets and baskets and baskets of pastries and took it to the barn lofts. Merry Christmas! When I heard him tell it, there was a very sincere, conscientious, very straight upright young fellow there who spoke up and said, What'd you do that for them? They don't even believe in Christ. And Mr. Goldter looked at him and said, I know, but I do. I wish I could be that way. Since I've been at Candler, I heard about a young man in his early 20s dying of that horrible, horrible, frightening, terrible AIDS in a hospital in Atlanta. He had no church connection but someone said he had relatives who had been in the church and they called a minister of that church and the minister came to the hospital. The young man was almost dead, just gasping there and the minister came to the hospital and stood out in the hall and asked them to open the door and when they opened the door, he yelled in a prayer. Another minister there in South Atlanta down around Forest Park heard about it and rushed to the hospital hoping he was still alive and got to the hospital, went to the room, went into the room and went over by the bed and pulled a chair by the bed and this minister lifted his head and cradled his head in her arm. She sang, she quoted scripture, she prayed, she sang, she quoted scripture and she prayed and he died. Some of the seminarians said, weren't you scared? He had AIDS and she said, of course I was scared, I bet you I've bathed 60 times. Well then why did you do it? And she said, I just imagined if Jesus had gotten a call what he would have done. I had to go. My, I suppose you could say that my goal, my chief ambition in the world is not just to be a good minister but to be a Christian minister.