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 Sunday, November 1, 2009 Sermon: "Finding God's Tomorrow" Scripture: Revelation 21: 1-6 Reverend Larry Gerber Between today and God's tomorrow are the nearer tomorrows. In east-central Minnesota, the county seat of Kanabec County is Mora, a small town of about 3,000 that's named after a city in Sweden. Several miles to its south lies the unincorporated hamlet of Day. The only surviving business there is the Day Fish Market, one of the few remaining distributors of the Scandinavian delicacy lutefisk (dried cod fish cured in lye). A generations-old quip among farmers in the area has been: "I've got to go into town to do some shopping." "Yah, but are you going to go to Day or to Mora?" A similar situation exists in southwest Ohio, with its village called Morrow. It was named for Jeremiah Morrow, one of Ohio's early governors. But some village residents probably wish his name had been Jeremiah Smith. The Morrow moniker has provided grounds for confusion, especially when someone wanted to get to Morrow tomorrow. Eventually, somebody realized the comedic possibilities, and a song was born. We don't know the name of the original songwriter, but the piece made its way into the larger music scene, where it was recorded by, among others, Bob Gibson, Steve Cottrell, Ian MacIntosh, the Kingston Trio and even the Muppets. The song goes like this: I started on a journey, about a year ago To a little town called Morrow in the state of Ohio. I've never been much of a traveler so I really didn't know That Morrow was the hardest place I'd ever try to go. I went down to the station for my ticket and applied For tips regarding Morrow, not expecting to be guyed. Said I, "My friend, I'd like to go to Morrow and return No later than tomorrow for I haven't time to burn." Said he to me, "Now let me see, if I have heard you right. You'd like to go to Morrow and return tomorrow night. You should have gone to Morrow yesterday and back today, For the train that goes to Morrow is a mile upon its way." "My friend," said I, "It seems to me you're talking through your hat. There is a town called Morrow on the line, now tell me that." "There is," said he, "But take from me a quiet little tip To go from here to Morrow is a fourteen-hour trip. "If you had gone to Morrow yesterday, now don't you see, You could have gone to Morrow and returned today at three. For the train today to Morrow, if the schedule is right, Today it goes to Morrow and returns tomorrow night." I was so disappointed, I was mad enough to swear! The train had gone to Morrow and had left me standing there. That man was right in telling me that I was a howling jay. I cannot go to Morrow, so I guess in town I'll stay. As the song points out, getting to tomorrow can be a difficult proposition. But, of course, that's always been true, especially when "tomorrow" refers to a better time when the problems of today are resolved. In biblical terms, tomorrow - the future, the time that has not yet arrived - is the assurance that the present is never the end of the story. It proclaims that the darkness of today will not survive into tomorrow. Tomorrow is the stuff of prophecy. "The days are coming when ..." proclaimed the prophets. Such prophecies were often uttered during dark and dismal days in Israel's history when not only the present but also the future looked bleak. But "tomorrow" was one way the prophets kept Israel's faith alive. Tomorrow is one of the keys for understanding Christianity, too. We explain it something like this: When you embrace the way of Christ, you enter the kingdom of God, which is already here in some ways. But you also inherit the hope of the kingdom to come, where God's love and power will have full sway, where all wrongs will be righted and where there will be neither sorrow nor suffering anymore. Today's reading from Revelation is typical of such biblical thought. The day is coming, says the Lord, when there will be no more mourning or crying or pain, "for the first things have passed away." We most often hear about Christianity's view of tomorrow when we are personally facing sorrow or pain that seems insolvable. "Don't lose hope," we say. "There is a better world coming." "In the end, nothing can separate us from the love of God." "Tomorrow - some distant tomorrow - you will see your loved one again." "Tomorrow there will be war no more." "Tomorrow all violence will cease, and people will live peaceably with their neighbors." And so on. But all of that is based on an ultimate tomorrow that's so shrouded in mystery that it's hard to get much out of it when we're dealing with the complexities of the present. God's tomorrow is the basis for Christianity's long-term confidence, but the promise of someday seems so far off that it can feel like little more than wishful thinking. At times, the best we can make of the tomorrow factor is to deal with it in a less-than-ultimate way. In the early, dark days of World War II, England was ill prepared to defend itself. Night after night, German warplanes repeatedly bombed London. Many of the city's children were sent to live with relatives out in the countryside, and the people who remained lived under daily threat. British flyers, seriously outgunned and piloting rickety, outdated planes, took to the air to defend the country, but many didn't return alive. One of the most popular songs in England during that time was "The White Cliffs of Dover," which proclaimed, "There'll be joy and laughter / And peace ever after, / Tomorrow / when the world is free ... Tomorrow / Just you wait and see." While the mood of that song was not unlike that of the reading from Revelation, the tomorrow it had in mind was a temporal, not eternal, one. It was a tomorrow within the lifetime of that generation. That type of tomorrow exists somewhere between the "Give us today our daily bread" of the Lord's Prayer and its "thy kingdom come" petition. And it's vital that we see them as just as much God's time as is the eschaton. Ttwo World Wars, the Great Depression, the Holocaust and other 20th-century happenings eventually convinced many who touted the "Social Gospel" that they weren't about to see the dawn of the earth's version of the kingdom of heaven after all. The movement died out. The view shifted back to the Bible's witness that when the kingdom of God finally arrives, it will be because God has acted to make it so. Our world won't evolve into the new heaven and the new earth on its own or by our doing. Nonetheless, the work of the Social Gospelers, if too confident in human goodness, wasn't all wasted. Some of those ideals were embodied in the New Deal legislation of the 1930s. And the concept that our Christian faith should make us work for the good of not only people's souls but also of their whole beings is now broadly entrenched in the church, among liberal and conservative Christians alike. We Christians can call this work "finding tomorrow." That has a counterpart in Judaism called tikkun olam, a Hebrew phrase meaning "repairing the world." One part of the concept is focused on Jews themselves, with the idea that they should form their own community as a model for the world of how God wants people to live together. But the other part is outward-looking. It means they aren't responsible only for creating a model society among themselves but also have some responsibility for the whole society's welfare. Tikkun olam and "finding tomorrow" aren't about good works or advocacy by themselves. Rather, they're about employing those things in balance with meeting people's spiritual needs. We cannot repair the world just by securing economic well-being and equal rights for everyone; we also need to assist people in finding God. The kingdom of God is the ultimate tomorrow. It's the goal of history and the reward of the faithful. Its coming is up to God. But between today and that tomorrow are the nearer tomorrows. We who follow Jesus have the duty to make sure that the doors of justice and society's benefits are open for all for those tomorrows and that the path to spiritual fulfillment is well marked. Today is All Saints Day. We have read the names of those from our congregation who have gone before us. We have taken a moment to remember those who have lost loved ones. Flowers have been placed in vases, one by one, in remembrance. The Communion Table has been prepared. The healing has begun. But these are both symbols of the real healing. They are the visual signs of what needs to take place in our hearts. Embrace those around you who have lost loved ones. Say a prayer of thanksgiving for the today's we have as we wait for the tomorrows that God has promised. Feel God's presence. Feel the peace of Christ. Feel the Holy Spirit surrounding you. As the elements come your way - take and eat in remembrance of Him--take and drink for healing and peace and justice... Sources: "Core vision." Tikkun magazine. tikkun.org/article.php/core. "Tikkun olam." Wikipedia. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tikkun_olam. |
