Weekly Sermon

"Foolish Wisdom" : March 23, 2003

The Reverend Anne Benefield

Isaiah 40:28-31; I Corinthians 1:18-31

For the message about the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God. For it is written, "I will destroy the wisdom of the wise, and the discernment of the discerning I will thwart." Where is the one who is wise? Where is the scribe? Where is the debater of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world? For since, in the wisdom of God, the world did not know God through wisdom, God decided, through the foolishness of our proclamation, to save those who believe. For Jews demand signs and Greeks desire wisdom, but we proclaim Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles, but to those who are the called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God. For God's foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God's weakness is stronger than human strength. Consider your own call, brothers and sisters: not many of you were wise by human standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth. But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, things that are not, to reduce to nothing things that are, so that no one might boast in the presence of God. He is the source of your life in Christ Jesus, who became for us wisdom from God, and righteousness and sanctification and redemption, in order that, as it is written, "Let the one who boasts, boast in the Lord." Prayer: Lord God, help us to hear anew and be startled again with the length and depth of your love. Remind us that your love goes to every corner of our world and embraces the lowly and the lofty. Show us how to follow in the wake of your love. Amen. When I was in seminary we had chapel every day. It was a fifteen to twenty minute service, including an eight to ten minute homily. I don't remember many of those little sermons, but I do remember one very clearly. The student has preaching from Matthew 11, where Jesus prays saying, "Thank you, God, for hiding these things [i.e. knowledge of God] from the learned and the clever and revealing them to little children." In other words, Jesus was saying pretty much what Paul wrote later: God works with the foolish, which confuses the wise. The student preaching that day read the passage and said, "I don't like this reading much. I don't know about you, but I'm in seminary to become learned and wise." His words struck me and stayed with me. It was a revelation to me that God might choose simple people rather than outstanding people to carry his message. This has been a hard week for us as a country. On Monday, President Bush announced that the time for diplomacy with Iraq was over. By Wednesday night, bombs were falling on targets in Baghdad. We entered the war somewhat divided, but regardless of one's feelings on the war, the country has rallied to stand together in support of the young men and women serving in the military on the frontlines of the battle. As I thought about the war and our passage for today, I found a strong tie between them. When Paul speaks of God's love for the lowest, those of the least rank, I believe he is affirming that God loves the lowest ranking soldiers and works miracles through them. Overwhelmingly, young people join the military service because they are idealistic and patriotic. And I believe that God treasures them for it. The humble are dear to God. I can't help but think of a great quote from Abraham Lincoln. He said, "God must love ordinary people. He made so many of us." God does love ordinary people-people with foibles and warts, people without means who work hard for everything they get, people willing to look foolish for their beliefs. When the war is over, we'll hear a lot about the generals and commanders. They will rightly be honored, but they will know as we will know that the young men and women on the frontlines made the most sacrifices. The good news is that God is foolish enough to look with favor on the simple soldier, even when they are most vulnerable. A Russian poet tells how in Moscow in 1941, the streets were lined with people, mostly women, waiting for a great parade of German prisoners. The atmosphere of hatred was palpable. Nearly every woman had lost husband, father, brother or son, and now was their chance to desecrate the symbols of those who had killed their menfolk. The Germans came into view…thin, unshaven, wearing dirty bloodstained bandages, hobbling on crutches or leaning on the shoulders of their comrades…the streets became dead silent. An old woman pushed through the crowd, past the police cordon and, taking something from her coat, pushed it into the pocket of an exhausted soldier-a crust of black bread. And now suddenly from every side women were running towards the soldiers, pushing into their hands bread, cigarettes, whatever they had. The soldiers were no longer enemies. They were people. And the women were beautifully foolish children of God. One woman risked ridicule and anger, to follow a call from God and others followed her. [Yegveny Yevushhenko, Almost at the End, (New York: H. Holt and Company, 1987) 25.] God looks with favor on the lowest ranking persons, and God is foolish enough to get down on our level. In Christ, God throws dignity out the stained-glass window. God does that because we need him at our level. Fleming Rutledge, in a sermon delivered at the Trinity Church in Boston, tells of an incident in her life that happened as she was "crossing the street near my parish in New York City. A taxi came roaring around the corner and knocked me to the pavement. A crowd gathered and the ambulance was called, but it took an unusually long time to arrive. It was 40 minutes before I was actually put on the gurney. In the meantime, I lay on the asphalt. I was aware of a lot of people standing around looking down at me. What I remember most about that long wait was the great distance between me on the concrete and the faces high above. In those minutes I very much needed someone to get down on the ground with me, to put a coat under my head, to hold my hand and stay down with me until help arrived." God doesn't stay on high looking down. God is foolish enough to get down on our level. [Fleming Rutledge, "The Love Olympics Go to Jerusalem," February 22, 1998] There is a reoccurring story that takes place on most battlefields in every war. As a soldier lies dying, a chaplain comes to his side. The chaplain asks if the soldier would like to pray. Seeing the type of cross wore by the chaplain, the soldier says, "Father, I don't belong to your denomination." The chaplain says, "It doesn't matter. We are both children of the same God." God wants the young men and women who are serving in the military to know that God is there with them, on their level. And should they be knocked down, God won't stand above them, God will get down in the sand with them. God gets right down in the mud and mundane of life. God is foolish enough to be where real life happens. God is with the foot soldier. The world won't know most of their names. There will be very little glory. And when those soldiers get home, they won't talk much about the war. But at the end of the day, everyone knows that it's the soldier at the front that deserves the glory and holds the heart of God. During World War II, when the Nazi armies were in almost every country of Europe, King Christian of Denmark stubbornly resisted the Nazis. His country was quite small compared to powerful Germany, and the king knew he could not win on the battlefield, but he put up a valiant moral struggle. One day he observed a Nazi flag flying above one of his public buildings. He reminded the German commander that this was contrary to the treaty between the two nations, and he said, "The flag must be removed before 12 o'clock; otherwise I will send a soldier to remove it." At five minutes before 12:00, the flag was still flying, and the king announced that he was sending a soldier to take it down. "The soldier will be shot," the Nazi officer replied. Then King Christian calmly said, "I think I should tell you that I will be that soldier." [As told by C. Thomas Hilton, Be My Guest: Sermons on the Lord's Supper (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1991), 41] A few minutes ago, we baptized Thorsdon and Landon. I don't know if there is anything more foolish than a child like Landon. We all have taken on the responsibility of teaching Landon how to be a Christian. I hope that we will show him the courage to follow God's wisdom, which looks foolish to the world, but brings eternal life. Amen.