3/8/53

Scripture: Isaiah 58: 1-12 (Americas Translation)

One of the disciplines of Lent is spoken of as that of “giving up something” during the season until Easter day. Someone says: “Well, I have decided not to eat candy during Lent.” And another remarks, “No movies for me until after Easter.” Someone else may say, “I love to dance, but of course I will not be dancing for the next six weeks; Lent, you know.” All of which suggests a religious discipline of some sort. And religious disciplines are an ancient practice, sometimes fraught with various benefits, sometimes not.

The ancient Sabbath of the Hebrews combined a literalistic observance of the commandment to keep holy the Sabbath Day with a regular fast day. From sundown of Friday until sundown of Saturday, faithful ones were to do not work, prepare no food, do no traveling, nor cause their servants or domestic animals to work either. And the definitions of work became very precise. One could take a few steps of course, over a limited distance, without transgressing the ceremonial law. But beyond a given distance, one’s movement became “work” and was therefore forbidden on the Sabbath.

There were ceremonial seasons when the bread must have no yeast. If one ate bread during such a time of discipline, it must be “unleavened” bread. When one suffered grief, or humiliation, or remorse, it might be an occasion for laying aside one’s comfortable clothing; putting on rough sack cloth and going out to sit in meditative misery on the ash heap, even pouring some of the ashes over one’s head. One can imagine how that practice added to the misery of Job when he suffered loss of his family, of his possessions and of his health. And, as if his humiliation and grief and the soreness of his boils were not enough, he sat with scratchy sack cloth and ashes irritating his skin and scalp; while his friends added to the torment by exhorting him to think, hard, about what he had done that was so wrong as to merit the wrath of God which they believed was so obviously visited upon him. [Job 2: 7-13, ff.].

A great king in Israel was grief-stricken over the mortal illness of his little son. King David sat in sackcloth and ashes, refusing food and praying in desperation that the life of his little son might be spared to him. [II Samuel 12: 15-19]. Somehow the austerity of the fast, and the self-imposed misery, were supposed to chastise properly the one who was troubled, and perchance to please God.

In their regular religious practice, the Hebrews had five or six fast days during the year. Their fasts may have had the merit of conserving food, of reducing overweight, and even of sharpening the spiritual sensibilities. Certainly one may be more aware of many kinds of reality when moderately hungry, than he is when contentedly stuffed with food. But there arises also some kind of notion of personal merit for the one who fasts as a religious rite.

Thus, the Pharisees were not content with a half dozen fasts during the year. They fasted twice a week; on Thursday and on Monday, the days when Moses respectively ascended and descended Mount Sinai. And they observed their semi-weekly fast rituals with faces unwashed, with drawn looks, with bare feet, and with ashes on the head. We say that no one goes to such extremes with any fasting today -- at least none of our acquaintances in this land do so. But Christians will do well to raise some questions about the whole idea of ascetic behavior, as also did our Lord!

Though we can not be too sure about it, Jesus probably assumed that his followers would fast in some way. And he had some pointed things to say about it. “When you fast, do not look dismal, like the hypocrites, for they disfigure their faces that their fasting may be seen by men. Truly, I say to you, they have their reward. (That word, reward, means have a receipt marked ‘paid in full.’) But when you fast,” said Jesus, “anoint your head, and wash your face, that your fasting may not be seen by men, but by your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.” [Matthew 6: 16-18].

I wonder, however, if we do not still focus our attention too much on the “reward” idea to get much meaning into fasting or self-denial. This is a time when there should be self-denial and self-discipline -- lots of it! We are well fed while millions are hungry. We enjoy a measure of liberty denied to half the world. We are prosperous enough to be clothed, housed, entertained and constructively occupied. Is this prosperity for the satisfaction of ourselves alone? Or is it Christian to have a concern for the overwhelming misery of so many who must feel unwanted, alone, and in desperate need? There are tremendous causes to be upheld; and they will be advanced only by those who will give of themselves, joyously.

The violinist lifts the life of his listeners with pure music only at the price of giving up hours of his day for practice in his art, not begrudging the time, but for the love of the music. An explorer is disciplined for the zest and danger of his venture. So the Christian is disciplined in glad faithfulness to Christ, and in ultimate love for God. And his discipline is not something to be seen of men, but is part of a price he gladly pays for what he wants to see accomplished.

In a certain church parish, a considerable number of families decided that they were going to try proportionate giving to the church and other Christian services. Some of them were going to tithe. Others might give less than one tenth of their income. But it would be the giving of a definite proportion of their resources -- as definitely set aside for giving as that proportion to be paid for their house rent or insurance. A reporter, with a long “nose for news,” heard about it and -- in search of material for a feature story -- interviewed some of those families after a time. He found that, almost without exception, each of these families enjoyed their giving so much that they said they would never return to their former haphazard methods of charitable contribution. “Well,” questioned the reporter, “don’t you find that you must give up quite a bit in order to give such a substantial portion of your income to your church or through your church?” Interestingly enough, most of them did not feel that they were “giving up” very consciously or significantly. One family did say, “We didn’t get the new car we thought of buying this year. But it doesn’t really bother us any, for the old one still runs and gets us places. And we will still probably be able to get the new car in another year or two.”

This thing that we call “sacrifice” is an odd experience. When we focus our attention upon it, it gets magnified, burdensome, even hollow. But when it is just incidental to something one really longs to accomplish, it is so light as to be forgotten, or unnoticed. One can talk about the “sacrifices” of motherhood until it might be supposed no woman in her right mind would ever be so bold or courageous as to want the burden of rearing and caring for children. But a host of experienced mothers just laugh at all the weariness, sleeplessness, self-giving and plain hard work that have gone into encouraging and building the lives of their children. The joy of one creditable day or one significant accomplishment on the part of her son or daughter just wipes clean, from many a mother’s memory, the denial and sacrifice she has given.

I have heard of a man who is gifted with an alert brain and who is doing a job of some brilliance in his field of alleviating human suffering. But his accomplishment is not just brilliance. A great deal of it is just plain, persistent hard work. And he loves it! He was once asked, in a questionnaire, to write down his favorite recreations. After giving a little thought to it, he said to someone in his family, “I’ve a notion just to write down ‘work.’ I love to work!” Probably he had no sense of disappointment or frustration at all over not spending the time to ski, play golf or bridge, fish or fiddle or dance. He knew such a zest, such a variety, such boundless joy in the work he did that he felt no other need, and no burden of sacrifice.

Giving is a spiritual art. To “give up” something for Lent, or to give up a “lot of my time and money for my church” sounds like a burden. Sometimes it even makes a hypocritical noise, as if the giver hopes to be noticed. But the kind of giving Jesus commended is a unique joy. The Master was talking to his disciples one day in Jerusalem. Practically everything he, and they, saw was lesson material for his teaching of them. They stood near the treasury of the temple. People came and went as they worshipped, putting in their gifts and tithes as they passed the treasury. Some put in their offerings with a dutiful air as if to say, “Well, that’s done, and I’ve observed the laws of giving to the letter.” Some tossed in their gifts in such a way as to make quite a jingle as if in hope that bystanders would be impressed by the size of the offering. Some had servants or “flunkies” carrying it up -- quite a noticeable little procession.

A woman came by and put in a couple of coins that could not have represented as much as a nickel of our money. With keen understanding the Master commented quietly to his disciples. “Did you notice that gift? That woman is a widow, and you know the desperate lot of many widows in this land. The others have been giving out of their abundance. But this woman gave, out of her poverty, everything she had. Without those little coins, she may not know even where her next meal is to come from. But because of the free, willing abandon of this gift, it is more acceptable in the sight of God, and a greater blessing to the giver, than all the calculated offerings you have this day seen cast into the treasury.” [Mark 12: 41-44].

Jesus never despised large gifts. Sometimes he seemed to demand very heavy giving. He once told a fellow of considerable wealth that he ought to sell all his property, give to the poor, and then, in his own new poverty, come and follow him. But Jesus wasn’t after the money. He had no “pet charity” or “building fund” or “relief society quota” to reach. He was tremendously concerned for the soul of the giver, that one might know the joy of giving without the cramp of calculated “sacrifice.”

One of the incomparable joys of responsible freedom, is the chance to give, in the cause of Christian love and concern, without pressure of authoritarian demand, nor for recognition. This morning, we have laid on the offering plates of our church that which is over and above our regular, pledged, weekly contribution. What is given is laid there not out of compulsion or demand, but out of willingness to join hosts of other church folk in brotherly help for the world’s desperate needy. Some offerings go for the establishment of the house of worship; some strengthen the voice of praise; this one goes directly into the cause of human brotherhood under God.

Hunger is pitiless; bitter cold strikes without mercy at those who are not adequately clothed; no one is lowlier than an orphan; the homeless ones after earthquake or flood have a great drain on their spirit. And these are the ones who are helped through Church World Service. The 25 or 30 denominations who cooperate to support this work are seeking more than 15 million dollars this year for the world-wide program of assistance to the needy overseas. The greater portion of it comes from “One Great Hour” offerings. This is the 16th Annual observance of “One Great Hour of Sharing.” Some of this help goes to direct relief -- food, clothing, temporary help. Much of it goes into the kind of help that is permanent encouragement toward self-respecting self-support. “Give a man a fish and he will eat for a day. Teach him to fish and he will eat for the rest of his life.”

A million and a half Algerians, half-starved and homeless and bitterly cold in the mountains, after 7 years of civil war, might not have survived without the help of our churches. Emergency air lifts and ocean freighters got 111 million pounds of food, clothing, medicines and other supplies to them. At other places on the African continent, a demonstration farm in Nigeria helps native folk to learn how to raise better chickens. 15 physicians went to the Congo during the past year to serve in “Operation Doctor.” Burmese are helped to establish clinics, nurseries for children of working mothers, and demonstration farms. Refugees in Hong Kong get some help with relief food and with leadership in learning new work skills.

Flood victims in India were given emergency aid; Tibetan refugees were provided tools, some livestock and training in crafts and skills. Korean refugees were helped to wrest new land from the Yellow Sea so that they could raise food. Haiti, called the “hungriest country in the world” receives aid from our churches through many feeding centers, and through self-help cooperative organizations. Special needs in Latin America are met with a helping hand from our churches.

In the face of the world’s need our gift of this morning probably looks like a widow’s penny. But combined with the gifts of 50 million other US Protestant Christians it can make a significant dent on the mountain of need. And if our giving in One Great Hour continues, it may do even better.

If this particular gift in our Lenten season goes from our hand with Christian abandon and compassion, it will be used mightily in the service of the Kingdom of God. And if we give, now and again, this year and the next, in this spirit, with liberality and responsibility, we may congratulate ourselves that we belong to a church that does not coerce our gifts.

Our supreme task and opportunity, as Christians, is to be instruments in the hands of the Almighty to carry forward His purpose in Christ for mankind. Our self concerns are not ends in themselves. Our churches are not ends in themselves. It is disloyalty to God to pursue a policy designed to heap to ourselves or to our particular church mere power or prestige. The church of Christ and the lives of Christians exist to serve God and His will among people.

Christian churches have this mission to fulfill: they must “radiate the light of God upon all things human; that is their prophetic mission.” And “they must mediate the love of God to all mankind; that is their redemptive mission.” The work of relief and rehabilitation for otherwise friendless, despairing victims of disaster is surely part of the healing or redemptive work of the churches.

The Christian is one who, having made a decision to serve God in the spirit of Christ, spends the rest of his life growing and maturing in this faith of a Christian. And “maturity means increasing the area of one’s interests, awareness and love.” Maturity is a matter of becoming more and more alive. The mature Christian enters with enthusiasm and zest into the enlarging of his best outreach.

Family love is not a group of people just “gazing fondly into each other’s eyes.” True family love is a group of people “looking out together.” Probably the person who is a useful citizen of the larger community is worth most in the hearts of his family. The same is true of the “household of faith” we call the church. Its members become more mature, more alive, as they expand their horizons, increase their awareness and love through Christian service.

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The prophet Isaiah was one of those who told forth some of the things later underscored by Jesus. After reading the prophet, or listening to the Christ, one doubts the validity of asceticism as such. Our valid self-denials have a purpose which overshadows the sacrifice. And if our selfishness gets in the way of God’s purposes, the true discipline is not one of noticeable fasting, but of inner repentance.

“Ye people rend your hearts; rend your hearts and not your garments. [Joel 2: 13]. -- If with all your hearts ye truly seek me, ye shall ever surely find me. Thus saith your God.” [The Elijah, by Felix Mendelsohn]. Who, having heard these wonderful words set to music and song, can ever forget them!

Probably our Lord took it for granted that people would fast, would pray, would “give alms.” But he was mightily concerned with why anyone wanted to fast or pray or give. And so may we be concerned.

[Read Isaiah 58: 3b - 9].

[the following addition was appended for the 1964 version]

[Right now, as one of the “church families” of this community, our attention focuses upon the prospect of new building. What we consider doing is not just for ourselves, but is for what we can do for others. The church is not just “for the members;” but the members are “for the church.” We have a mission to perform for people who come to this neighborhood. There must be adequate provision for Christian education, fellowship, worship and service for them as well as for ourselves. The giving which we shall expect of ourselves will be much more than for any single church project we have undertaken. It is to be contemplated with enthusiasm and with joy!

A little, but growing, congregation of the United Church of Christ in northern Wisconsin at Hayward is made up of families who are said to be mostly tithers. They have just completed and moved into a new church building, modest but adequate for now. They have been determined to have a church and to be a church. In our vastly more favored circumstance, I trust that we shall rise to our opportunity.

This is our time to think, not of fasting, but feasting in service and giving; that the house of the Lord may be adequate.

A great Christian layman, Baron Von Hugel, once wrote to a niece, “Christianity taught us to care; caring matters most.”

We are a church that is favorably known for its giving to the mission of the church in its outreach. We are a church whose home is located not at the edge of the city or at the edge of anything else but at its center. Let us keep ourselves equipped to serve where we are.]

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Dates and places delivered:

Wisconsin Rapids, March 8, 1953.

Wisconsin Rapids, March 8, 1964.

Wood County Infirmary, March 11, 1964.