| Note: No sermon is quite the same when you read it. You miss the inflections, the expression that you gain in the hearing. The words below are only a close approximation of the sermon, taken from handwritten notes. Nevertheless, the words (as best as can be deciphered!) are shared with you here. The Webmeister |
Second Sunday in Lent Genesis 22: 1-14; Psalm 16:5-11; Romans 8:31-39; Mark 8:31-38 THERE'S A CERTAIN MOMENT when it's obvious your luck has run out. For me that moment became obvious late one night in a dark and smoky casino in Las Vegas as I was playing blackjack with a friend. Now the object of blackjack is simple, beat the dealer's hand. That's all you have to do. That sounds easy enough, but as I sat at that table, losing hand after hand, suddenly winning didn't seem so easy anymore. That night there was an older gentlemen sitting next to me at the table. He looked about seventy; his voice was deep, his skin thick and leathery and in one hand he held his cards, and in the other he held his cigarette. When he sat down, he had a pile of chips, but now all he had was one left. I watched him as he placed his last bet, one chip worth five dollars on the table. He lit another cigarette, and sat back waited for the cards to be dealt. He picked his cards up, shook his head, well I won't repeat what he said that night here in this pulpit. But you can use your imagination. He lost, and after losing, he got up, walked away from the table with his pockets empty. It struck me how odd it was that this man came to the table with so much, so many chips, and he left empty handed. I should've left with him. But I didn't, and I bet again hoping that my luck would change. And it seemed to. I was dealt two face cards, an almost sure win. The dealer looked at her cards, frowned, and turned them over, revealing a blackjack player's worst nightmare: an ace and face card, a blackjack. The only hand that could've beat mine. My stomach sank as I watched yet another chip taken away from me. Now I don't consider myself dumb, but you might for playing that game. But I knew then that whatever luck I had was now gone. And so I got up from the table remembering the sage advice of Kenny Rogers on playing cards "you gotta know when to hold 'em, and you gotta know when to fold 'em". Life in many ways is a gamble. And if there is anything certain in life, it's that we are unable to predict what will happen next. There are times when we win, and there are times when no matter what we do, no matter how hard we try, we end up losing. We either walk away from the table with something in our hands, or we walk away empty handed. Life is a gamble, and if there's anyone who knew that in the Bible, it was certainly Abraham. Now Abraham is no stranger to gambling. His call to leave the comforts of his home for a new and unknown land was certainly a gamble, as was his bargain with God over the fates the people living in the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah. But in today's reading from Genesis, Abraham's gamble is bigger than those two, because he is told by God to offer his son Isaac, as a sacrifice. Talk about a gamble, where what's at stake is not money, or even your life, but the life of your child. Those are high stakes no gambler would play by. But Abraham has to. Maybe he acquiesced to God's demand out of fear, or maybe it was just blind obedience. We will never know. But Abraham does what God tells him he must do, an act of faith if there ever was one. And so Abraham takes Isaac to the top of Mt. Moriah. And in spite of Isaac's questions about what it is they are going to sacrifice, Abraham presses on. Isaac believes that it's an animal that's going to be sacrificed, until he realizes that he is the sacrifice. And Abraham places his son on the table, perhaps realizing that with God all things are possible, and that there is some way out of this, so that he won't walk away from the table empty-handed. And so he raises his knife, closes his eyes, and prepares for the worst. And as he brings his knife down only inches away from Isaac's flesh, he is stopped by a voice from heaven which cries out "Abraham, Abraham. Do not lay your hand on the boy or do anything to him; for now I know you fear God since you have not withheld your son from me." And Abraham drops the knife, and unbinds his son. And with Isaac in his arms, Abraham walks away from the table having received his son, his hands aren't empty. His hands are full. Sometimes, in the life of faith, we are called to place that which is most important, that which is most valuable, that which we love most upon the table. And when do that, none of us can be sure that we will ever get it back. When Abraham placed Isaac on the table, he did not know what was going to happen. And happened was that he received his son back. The message of this story is that with God, you always get back so much more than you give. The story of Abraham teaches us is that whatever it is we offer on the table, what we offer to God always comes back to us. What is offered to God in faith is never lost. When we offer what we love onto that table, we need not fear losing it. But it might come back looking different. God has a wonderful talent in taking those things we offer to him, and making them truly beautiful. We offer ordinary bread and wine to God, and God transforms them so that they contain the extraordinary presence of God. We offer water to God in baptism, and God transforms it to be the mark of a new life in Christ. Many of the tables you sit at in this world will leave you empty-handed, even if you're not a blackjack player. But when you sit at God's table, you receive far more than you are able to give. Casinos have their tables, Abraham had his table where he offered Isaac, and we have our table. Right here. This table that draws all of us together. And unlike the tables of this world, you don't even have to offer anything to come and sit here. You might come empty-handed, with nothing but the torn fragments of a life that has led to nothing but disappointment and failure. Or you might come to this table with everything, money, success, power. Or you might be somewhere in between. Regardless of your situation, it doesn't matter what you bring to this table, because all we really have to offer God, all we can really place onto this table, is not something we possess, or love. All we can offer on this table is ourselves. We offer ourselves to God here. And God delights in that offering, and so God offers himself to us, in the form of bread and wine. And in the giving and in receiving of ourselves to God and God to us, neither you nor God walks away from the table empty-handed. Everyone walks away with full hands. Life is a gamble. We will sometimes win, and we'll sometimes lose, but there is something that is never left to chance. And that is when you come to this table, you will never leave empty-handed. Offer yourself, and God will give you so much more. Amen The Reverend James M. L. Grace March 12, 2006 *Past sermons may be found here. |
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