10/14/51

Scripture: Genesis 9: 8-24

There are portions of the sacred scriptures that are far from being favorite readings for the fastidious. The reference of this morning is one of them. There is much of commendable foresight, of faithful devotion to right, of skill and careful planning, of industry and effective work to be seen in the life of Noah. But he was human and some of his human weaknesses were deeply deplorable.

This particular scene is revolting. There is nothing decorous in the sight of a person stupefied by indulgence in alcoholic beverage. It is enough to make the angels weep when someone gets deep in his cups. And if angels were to weep, there would be copious tear-shedding among the heavenly host over a shameful and piteously large number of the earth’s people - very young as well as older - who do imbibe much too freely for anyone’s good.

It has been related that a proud sort of man once boasted that he had never committed certain major sins or offenses, three in number. Then, unhappily, he got drunk and, his mind muddled by alcohol, committed all three of those sins.

There is no dignity to be found in the sorry account of Noah, so grossly overcome by the product of his own vineyard that he couldn’t observe the ordinary decencies of dress. And his own sons felt ashamed of his condition.

Of course they treated a symptom rather than the malady. They hit upon a Victorian way to get him covered without themselves beholding his nakedness. One fears that his undress bothered their sense of propriety more than his drunkenness. To our modern mind, it would seem unnecessary for those two young men to be quite so fussy about the manner in which they proceeded to cover their father. It would seem less important that he had gotten uncovered than that he had gotten to such a condition that he didn’t even know the difference, or if he did, couldn’t do anything about it.

One factor , however, stands out with dignity in this sorry account. And that is the charity with which the young fellows treated their father as he lay in his drunken stupor. They knew that he would be embarrassed or perhaps angry in his humiliation when he had sobered again. And they spared him what they could of his humiliation by covering him with averted eyes.

What Edgar DeWitt Jones calls “the mantle of charity” is often in evidence in the Old Testament. The literature of its various books is extremely realistic. Probably if you or I were writing about Abraham or Jacob or David now, we would omit, or at least gloss over, certain of their wrong doings. But the chroniclers of the Old Testament told the truth without hesitation, sorry and shocking though it sometimes was. Charity is there, but it does not gloss over truth.

The “mantle of charity” is even more evident in the New Testament. Not that the New Testament glosses over wrongdoing -- not at all. The deadly wages of sin is set down, and the consequences of evil made very plain. Still, as a rule, the climate of the New Testament, as compared with the Old, is gentler and more favorable to justice tempered with mercy.

Did you ever learn the lines about the “quality of mercy” - that it is not strained -- it is twice blessed -- it blesses him who gives it and as well him who receives it? Some charity about the frailties of others is itself a mark of mercy -- it is love in action.

Old Diogenes went about with a lantern looking for an honest man. (He could have found that kind of man without a lantern is he had looked in the right place!) But Diogenes, even with his lantern, could not have found a faultless person. No more can we, even should we turn some powerful searchlight on all humanity!

But we can approach the frailties of people, however frankly, with charity and kindness. If you want a mental picture of chaos, try to picture what would happen if all human beings spoke out in public their opinions and criticisms of one another, which they occasionally speak guardedly in private; or if we all voiced the uncharitable thoughts we occasionally harbor, but do not put in words! Families would swiftly disintegrate -- and not just to be realigned, either! Churches would erupt in turmoil, communities would become belligerent and engulfed in strife. Life would be well nigh unendurable.

It is the understanding heart, recognizing both the good and the not-so-good; it is the tempered spirit; the guarded tongue; the love that “thinketh no evil,” which hold the family together, which unify the church and build the community and the true state.

Take a close-up view of some of our heroes. The school of so-called “debunking” is disgusting to many of us. But a straight look, both at the magnificent stature and the feet of clay as well, is good for our balance in viewing our heroes. If they are truly great, their frailties may seem not more than spots on the sun. Possibly we love them even more than we could ever love some faultless angel, partly because of our own kinship in imperfection.

Look at Martin Luther who touched off great areas of the religious reformation. He wasn’t the only one - nor the first one - but the forces that rallied round him were among the most effective. We owe a great deal of our human liberty to this titanic figure of history. Not only our Protestantism, but our democracy stand unrepayably indebted to that sturdy German who faced squarely the powers of church and state. Yet his faults included some obstinacy. He was not always easy to work with. Occasionally he threw words about carelessly, (not to mention throwing his ink well!) He turned his back completely on the poor and the disinherited in the so-called “Peasant’s War”, choosing rather to stand with the powerful and with the highly placed.

Yet we look with charity upon Luther’s mistakes. His accomplishments far outweigh his weaknesses. We take our public men as we find them. If they are honest and faithful to important tasks, we forgive minor faults.

And there is Abraham Lincoln, a man of such giant spiritual stature that now and then someone suggests that we have deified him. Of course that is impossible. He is too salty and earthy to be deified. He was no demigod. He had his frailties that were well known to his friends, and better known to himself. Some of his humor was as common as barns and earth - even a bit coarse. And he would trust some people almost to the point of being a “sucker.” But how trivial are these things beside the greatness of his being!

The mantle of charity for men in public life is well illustrated in the statement of a man who had been active in politics and public life, but who had missed the “grand prize” of election to the presidency. A newspaperman was interviewing him. He asked the reporter to look out the window toward a wooded park. “See the trees,” he said, “how beautiful they look from here; but is you examine them closely you will find ugly knots, broken twigs and dead limbs. So it is with men in public life. Better look at them from a distance, and credit them for what they have done, and forget their faults and frailties.” There in something in this! Charity is not blind; but it is kind.

Not only are we obliged to put the mantle of charity over individual persons. We may well do likewise with movements, organizations, crafts, the worlds of business, management, labor, the professions and vocations in general.

I heard an address some time ago in which the speaker told of hearing a teacher advocate that the government expenditures be supported chiefly by taxes on corporation profits, doing away with taxes on individual incomes and other levies. Well, I think, myself, that that is a silly, one-sided idea. But this speaker waxed eloquent when he said, “That’s the thing that is being taught in our schools!” And there were nods of righteous indignation among those around the room.

Well, it is not the thing that is being taught in our schools! It may very likely have been what that teacher believes and teaches -- and even what some others like him believe and teach. But there are a lot of other teachers who believe and teach quite differently. Just a merest bit of charity will give one the chance to see the teaching profession more clearly than that!

Our political world is always in disruption (if not eruption!) Presidential campaigns are many-month nightmares of anxiety, uncertainty, despair and hope. Yet this is democracy at work. It does not work as smoothly or as righteously, as we want it to work. But it is working, and working in such a way as to give more individual citizens a part in the choice than other more “efficient” and dictatorial methods.

We recognize fully our excesses, puerilities, banalities; and sometimes hypocrisies, over election choices and strategies. Someone has observed that “a democracy is like a raft, hard to steer, and your feet are always wet.” But we can put over it a mantle of charity, remembering that some such process put into office a Washington and a Lincoln!

Look at one of the Christian Church denominations, born of a deep desire for the unity of the churches. It succeeded not only in becoming yet another denomination, but in encountering difficulties that split itself into three houses of belief. And yet, if we can put the mantle of charity over this unhappy result, it may be apparent that the note of unity, harped from its pulpits for a century, has had its effect in helping to bring to reality the World Council of Churches, the National Council of Churches, State Councils and other signs of closer understanding and cooperation among Christian folk.

Forgiveness is a fundamental not to be forgotten.

There were times for stern appraisal and sharp action in the New Testament times of Jesus. Some of the Pharisees received very straight-aimed talk from him, and they smarted under it. Even his close friends must have winced at the accuracy of his estimate on their motives. But Jesus dealt with charity toward all.

One is almost embarrassed by the wealth of teaching, incident and illustration of the side of compassion, forgiveness, mercy without stint, which is found in Christian literature. Only a few instances need be cited to demonstrate the kindness of charity -- instances that should move and warm the dullest heart.

The enemies of Jesus brought before him a woman taken in adultery. Of course they cared not at all for her. They would execute her according to their law, by stoning. (One cannot help remarking that they did not also bring her partner, for that is one moral crime which of necessity involves more than one criminal!) Anyway, they cared not a whit for her. It was on the entrapment of Jesus that they were intent. And they hoped to trip him in the law by his very nature of forgiveness and mercy. They brazenly dragged this frightened and despairing creature to his feet and kept demanding of Jesus “what do you say should be done with this woman?” while he thoughtfully wrote in the dust. He raised himself up and said: “Let him that is without sin among you be the first one to throw a stone at her.” Then he stooped over and wrote again on the ground.

Hearing this unexpected reply, the accusers went away one by one - beginning with the oldest. When they had all gone, Jesus said to the woman, “Has no one condemned you?” “No one, Lord,” she replied. Then Jesus said, “Neither do I condemn you. Go and sin no more.” [John 8: 3-11]. Was ever the mantle of charity used in more kindly fashion to cover one with the hope of a forgiven life and restored worth before God?

There is the case of Peter who, after making great verbal show of his loyalty, yet in an hour of crisis for his Master and himself, denied that he even so much as knew Jesus, and underlined his denial with rude oaths. [Matthew 26: 69-75]. When the Christ came later to Simon Peter on the seashore, he gave Peter opportunity to confess him thrice in the memorable words, “Thou knowest that I love thee.” [John 21: 15-17]. And on the day of Pentecost it was none other than Simon Peter who was the spokesman, the first great Christian preacher. [Acts 2: 1-36].

I don’t suppose it likely that any of his fellow Christians took Peter aside now and then to say, “Look here, Peter, don’t you remember that you’re the fellow who denied our Lord with oaths on a certain fateful night? You said you didn’t even know him, remember?” No, so far as we know, that unhappy, long-repented incident was covered by the kindly charity of his fellow Christians who refrained from referring to it again.

There was a man named Judas Iscariot who, being a follower of Jesus of Nazareth, yet plotted to betray him. Do you remember that, at their last supper together, Jesus took the bread, dipped it in the sop and gave it to Judas? There are scholars who say that, for the host to take bread, dip it in the sop and give it to a guest was considered an honor, making him a favored guest.

It was as though Jesus was saying, “You see, Judas, that I love you. Now can you do to me what you have planned? Judas, my disciple, I yet love you.” Was not this unprecedented courtesy the mantle of charity over an action which Judas late was unable to bear remembering?

And at the bitter end of Jesus’ ministry, at his crucifixion, it was not a desperate shriek of agony, nor a bitter cursing on his tormentors, that came from the crucified Christ’s life and lips; but the prayer: “Father forgive them, for they know not what they do.” [Luke 23: 34]. Was ever charity so kind -- even to a blood-thirsty mob?

Charity is not concerned with itself. It suffers long if need be, and is kind.

As illumined by our mighty Master, it is well worth pondering, and practicing! Let it soften and mellow our hearts of all the bitter hardness against justice, compassion, mercy and forgiveness.

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Dates and places delivered:

Wisconsin Rapids, October 14, 1951

Wisconsin Rapids, April 13, 1958