First Congregational Church UCC in Auburn, MA, February 25, 2024
Genesis 17:1–7 When Abram was ninety-nine years old, the Lord appeared to Abram and said to him, “I am God Almighty; walk before me, and be blameless. And I will make my covenant between me and you and will make you exceedingly numerous.” Then Abram fell on his face, and God said to him, “As for me, this is my covenant with you: You shall be the ancestor of a multitude of nations. No longer shall your name be Abram, but your name shall be Abraham, for I have made you the ancestor of a multitude of nations. I will make you exceedingly fruitful, and I will make nations of you, and kings shall come from you. I will establish my covenant between me and you and your offspring after you throughout their generations, for an everlasting covenant, to be God to you and to your offspring after you.
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable in your sight, O God our Rock and our Redeemer. Amen.
In February 1943, Langdon Gilkey was an English teacher at the Yenching University in Beijing China. World War 2 had begun fifteen months ago, making it impossible for him, or for many other foreigners, to return to their native countries. Everyone had scuffed along right where they were, but in February, things changed. The land was under the control of the Japanese army, and they wanted all the foreigners gathered together in one place, under tight control. And so began a sobering journey for Gilkey.
Along with around 1500 other missionaries, teachers and business people, husbands, wives, children from teens to infants, they traveled by slow train to a city in Shandong Province where they were confined in a former mission compound. There was not enough room for everyone, there were barely any facilities – few beds, no extra blankets, not enough water for flush toilets or daily showers, inadequate kitchens to cook, no refrigeration to keep the food safe, and for that matter, not enough food. If you’re like me and don’t quite know where Shandong Province is – well, it’s just west of Korea, at about the same parallel as where the Olympics took place a few years ago. And those stories about how cold that part of the world is in winter? They’re true.
Langdon Gilkey came to the camp an ordinary cultural Christian, not particularly interested in the details of the faith, pretty much convinced it was largely irrelevant in a world where people now knew to work together for the best for everyone.
He believed we’d grown beyond the foolishness of greed and self-interest, that sin was an old fashioned concept.
And then he was asked to serve on the Housing Committee for the Internment Camp.
Because of the hodge-podge way people had entered the camp, some had much more space than they absolutely needed, while others did not have enough. Too often there were families with teenagers who had two rooms, while families with toddlers had only one. This was enormously challenging for the parents of the littlest ones – one 8×12 room in which to do everything… The building committee came up with a plan to redistribute space – in fact, they came up with two plans to do so – and each time, to Gilkey’s astonishment, the plans were rejected out of hand by those who would lost space.
He could not understand it. The plans were good, they were fair, they were “right”. These were good people; why can’t they see what needs to be done?
He brought the problem of space to four families, of whom he wrote: “None of them is a troublemaker or uneducated. …they’re all respectable.. and as moral as they come, just the kind that would support any good cause in their communities at home.”[1]
Not one of them agreed to share their space or make any changes. One husband and father threatened to sue him, after the war, if he persisted in insisting on this change. Even the missionary family refused to cooperate. The Housing Committee had to finally go to their Japanese captors and ask them to force people to agree to the changes. Only under compulsion were people willing to help each other out.
He wrote: . . . I began to see that without moral health, a community is as helpless and lost as it is without material supplies and services.[2]
Why are we here? Because, like Langdon Gilkey, we’ve come to realize that the world doesn’t work on the basis of good will to all people.
We’re here because we’ve come to realize that without the power and leadership of God, without the example of Jesus Christ, without the urging of the Holy Spirit, we’d find it enormously difficult to live in a way which nurtures community, builds up our world, brings justice and mercy to the downtrodden.
We’re here because without God, our lives would be only about me, myself, and my immediate family, and that’s not how we want to live.
God gives us church as a place to try out living by faith. As Gilkey discovered, living a moral life isn’t so easy when our choices are limited. In Shantung Compound every time someone got more, someone else got less. There was no “more” for everyone, and so it seemed as though life was really about “less” for everyone.
Knowing the right answer to the question of how to live isn’t simple, or obvious, or easy.
Yesterday morning I conducted a funeral for Win Bigelow, long-time member of our church, and in the course of the service we heard read First Corinthians 13.
I was struck by this phrase: “if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing” and it occurred to me that the God whom we follow says that love is more important than faith.
So the first thing, the primary thing, the foundational thing I know about God is that for God, love is the most important thing. It is love which can bind our world together, even when we cannot agree on the details of faith, and from that truth, all else proceeds.
The covenant God makes with Abram is built on love, not on power or control. It is a model for us of how the world could be… built on love, designed for justice, open to mercy.
What God is calling us to, this life based on love, focused on justice, is not something that will happen at some unknown time in the future, not something that we should just sit patiently and wait for. It is something that is right here, right now. Jesus said, “the time is fulfilled , and the kingdom of God has come near; repent and believe the Good News.”
This is good news. We are not stuck here, in the midst of a world filled with tears, wracked by terrible news from one day to the next, horrified by yet another large-scale killing at a school.
We serve a God who calls us, now, to action.
We serve a God who calls us to stand up for those who are alone, to stand with those who seek to change our world for the better.
We serve a God who promises that we will never be left alone in disaster, promises that it is love which is the foundational principle of our world.
And that is the Good News for today.
Amen.
© 2024, Virginia H. Child
[1] Gilkey, Langdon; Shantung Compound, Harper & Row, New York City, 1966, p. 82.
[2] Ibid., p. 76.