Faith Is ...

A sermon by the Rev. Dr. Margaret Aymer Oget

Scripture: Hebrews 11: 1-12:2

Tonight, friends, we have heard from the Preacher of the great homily we call Hebrews. And, I've gotta tell ya, this is not your upbeat, joyful, motivational speaker. This is not the preacher with whom you pal around; you won't ever hear this Preacher proclaim that "all things work together for good for those who love God." Instead, we have the Preacher to the Hebrews, one of those stiff-backed, sober persons who will look you dead in the eye without ever cracking a smile; and as you squirm uncomfortably, this Preacher will sigh deeply and say: friend, not every story has a happy ending.

It is a deeply American desire, I have learned from my French husband, to want a happy ending. Americans, raised by Walt Disney, are sure that if we clap our hands loudly enough and long enough, Tinkerbell will live! Unless our football team is playing them, we want the underdog to win. We love shows like the Oprah give-away shows or Extreme Makeover: Home Edition — when a deserving family gets the keys to a brand new house. Happy endings are what life is all about; we are a people who love dessert. So, after driving through the streets of Louisiana, looking at watermarks that were six, and seven and eight feet off of the ground; walking around whole neighborhoods abandoned to vultures; photographing houses that were pushed off of foundations by floodwaters; staring at bare slabs of concrete that used to anchor homes — after a day like today, we want a guarantee: that all the work it took to take barges off of busses and cars out of trees; to clear streets and to begin to fill potholes; to gut houses and churches; to treat them for mold; to rebuild and re-inhabit-that all of our hard work was not work done in vain. We want, we clamor desperately for a happy ending.

Unfortunately, we have chosen to keep company with the austere Preacher to the Hebrews, an honest preacher who will not lie to us. Once more, the preacher turns to us and says, "I know what you think you want to hear. I know you want me to tell you that it will all turn out in the end. But, I'm not that kind of preacher; I will not lie to you. Not every story has a happy ending."

And then, the preacher begins to detail for us all the ways in which stories might otherwise end. And if you listen, really listen, it can be overwhelming. For, the preacher tells us that "some stories end with homicide. Some end with floods that annihilate untold numbers of persons. Some stories of people who leave their homes to go exploring end in their lifelong nomadic dislocation. Some stories end with impossible, life-or-death demands on persons physically unable to meet those demands on their own. Some, with parents keeping watch as their children are condemned to death. Some, with torture, imprisonment, and all manner of oppression; and some stories," says the Preacher, "simply end in failure."

What a sermon to preach on a night like tonight! What a sermon to hear when we are already full with the breadth and depth and scope of the work needed just in New Orleans alone! But perhaps, this is exactly the sermon we need to hear tonight. Perhaps we need to be reminded that the faithful ones don't always survive; sometimes, like Abel, they are killed. Perhaps we need to be reminded that sometimes the faithful ones lose all that they have ever known to cataclysmic catastrophes, and like Noah they are the only ones left to start all over again. Perhaps we need to be reminded that sometimes the faithful elderly face impossible tasks, like Sarah did; and that the faithful young are sometimes within a knife's edge or a bullet's path of death, as was Isaac. Perhaps, in our "happy endings"-saturated culture, it is important to remember that the faithful ones have often paid dearly for that faithfulness, even with their own lives.

We think we want a happy ending. We think we want assurance that it will all be all right. And, for some of us, some of the time, it will be all right. But for many of us, the tasks before us, tasks of social justice and societal rebuilding, these will be long, and hard, and sometimes thankless. And, if we are to endure, both in this city and in every part of this nation; if we are to constantly find new sources of hope when the old resources run dry, then we dare not mistake the Preacher's great exhortation "Therefore since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses" for Madison Avenue's saccharine "and they lived happily ever after."

For, the witness of the scripture is not that they lived happily ever after, but that despite what they went through, despite what they had to face, despite all that lay ahead of them — they lived BY FAITH. Whether blessing children into life or watching children killed by the sword, they lived BY FAITH. Whether facing an impossible pregnancy or walking away from all power and authority, they lived BY FAITH. Whether living and dying as foreigners in strange lands or facing torture meted out by the occupying force, they lived and suffered and died BY FAITH.

You see, the Preacher is right. Not every story has a happy ending. But every single story in this early Christian sermon has a faithful beginning. To have a faithful beginning is to start with the premise that God is in fact sovereign, and that regardless of what happens, God is still God. To have a faithful beginning is to confess the truth of the Lenten season: that all flesh is as grass. The grass withers; the flower fades, but God's word endures forever. To have a faithful beginning is to start doing justice, loving kindness and walking humbly with God, not knowing what will happen next. To have a faithful beginning is to act on the command of our Sovereign and Savior, "Whatsoever ye would that others do unto you, do ye even so unto them." To have a faithful beginning is to put aside every weight and run with confidence the race that is set before us, always keeping our eyes on Jesus Christ, he who was faithful even to death on a cross.

There are no guarantees. We may not win the race. We may not rebuild this city; or any city, for that matter. Not every story has a happy ending. But on those days when hope is hard to find, we can decide again to make a faithful beginning. On the days when trouble seems never ending, we can choose again to make a faithful beginning. On those days when we wonder why we bother, and when there is no happy ending in sight, we can choose again to make a faithful beginning. On those days when we can't figure out how we will endure one more thing, we can turn again to the sober Preacher to the Hebrews. We can hear again the great exhortation, "Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses." And, without any guarantee that our stories will have happy endings, we can take the first step, the step that Jesus the Christ took. We can make a faithful beginning. Amen.