Meg Peery McLaughlin
Dedication Sunday
October 27, 2024
Zechariah 8: 1- 8
Today we finish our Fall sermon series called Grounded,
and our scripture is from Zechariah, a minor Old Testament Prophet.
Zechariah’s ministry took place as the Israelites were returning from Babylon
after a painful exile.
His message was an effort to motivate both the physical rebuilding of Jerusalem and the Temple, and the spiritual rebuilding the people’s relationship with God.
This little book is full of visions that are highly symbolic and may seem odd—
a flying scroll for instance—
But here at the end of this section of Zechariah is what scholars call a mini-sermon:
it is the articulation of a dream—
God’s dream for what is to come
a dream Zechariah wants the people of God to know,
know that they might orient their lives to it.
Let us listen now for God’s word for us from Zechariah, chapter 8:
The word of the Lord of hosts came to me, saying:
2 “Thus says the Lord of hosts:
I am zealous for Zion with great zeal, and I am zealous for her with great wrath.
3 Thus says the Lord: I will return to Zion and will dwell in the midst of Jerusalem; Jerusalem shall be called the faithful city, and the mountain of the Lord of hosts shall be called the holy mountain.
4 Thus says the Lord of hosts: Old men and old women shall again sit in the streets of Jerusalem, each with staff in hand because of their great age. 5 And the streets of the city shall be full of boys and girls playing in its streets.
6 Thus says the Lord of hosts: Even though it seems impossible to the remnant of this people in these days, should it also seem impossible to me, says the Lord of hosts? 7
Thus says the Lord of hosts: I will save my people from the east country and from the west country,8 and I will bring them to live in Jerusalem. They shall be my people and I will be their God, in faithfulness and in righteousness.”
This is the Word of the Lord.
Thanks be to God.
I don’t remember how we got there in the conversation,
but last week I was talking with my daughter Naomi about Confirmation class,
and I said “doing good deeds isn’t the only thing that makes someone a Christian.
Christians are also those who call Christ their savior.”
So then we started talking about what we needed saving from.
We talked about fear, and all the exhausting ways we try to prove ourselves in this life.
We talked about greed and hate and our tendencies to always want to be right.
We talked about prejudice and the planet.
It was quite the chat over bubble tea on Franklin Street.
Then Naomi asked a great question. She asked:
well if Jesus has saved us from all that,
why is the world around us still such a dumpster fire?
Side note: This is why I love confirmation.
Because 8th graders get to ask questions like that.
Thank you, Tristan, thank you confirmation mentors and teachers.
Thank you, church, for providing safe and brave space.
If Jesus has already saved us,
why is the world around us still such a dumpster fire?
In Christian theology, we call this the “already, not yet.”
The saving love of God has already come in Jesus,
and the fullness of what that love means for all of creation is not yet here.
The kingdom of God has already broken in, and we see glimpses of it,
And we are still praying and waiting for the kingdom to be on earth as it is in heaven.
Jesus is the one (our number one), who points to God’s dream that is promised.
If and when these 8th graders confirm their faith,
part of what they are saying is that that dream
is what they want to orient their lives around.
They too want to walk toward a dawn that is breaking, though not fully arrived.
This past Thursday, the deacons helped to host a UPC luncheon at Carolina Meadows, one of our local retirement communities. We had a delightful time, per usual, and as we were saying goodbye a few of us were lingering.
I was in the hallway, sitting down with Tom Hollingsworth, who is in his 10th decade.
As we were talking, Joan Page, in her 8th decade, came up behind Tom
and lifted her walking cane up as one might a Star Wars light saber,
and she bopped Tom on the head with it.
He deftly reached behind to grab it, and wouldn’t let go.
Tom’s chuckled warmly.
“He started it” Joan playing claiming guilt, “Tom was trying to steal this earlier”
to which he replied
“I’m in this giant electric wheel chair, Joan, why would I need your cane?”
I drove home and I couldn’t stop thinking about their joy, and that cane,
Zechariah would have called it a staff.
That steadying stick is part of the dream described in our scripture today.
—
Zechariah describes the day that God promises is coming–
when old men and old women will sit in the street with staffs in hand
sit to banter as delightfully as they desire,
where their great age is honored and wisdom shared.
Zechariah describes the day that God promises is coming —
where boys and girls can play in the streets
where wonder, cooperation, and self-confidence
pour forth as freely as the belly laughs that burst forth.
It is the dream of God’s urban intergenerational playground—
where all are gathered in, and all is restored,
where streets are safe enough to be in the middle of,
where bellies are full enough
and bodies are healthy enough
and spirits joyful enough
to play, to play with each other, to play with abandon.
Tucked into this dream is a little verse that is so intriguing to me—
Zechariah says:
Even though it seems impossible to the remnant of this people in these days,
should it also seem impossible to me? Says the Lord.
It’s as if this minor Hebrew prophet has climbed into our skeptical,
Anxious, weary minds. It’s as if Zechariah knows the dumpster fire all around us is raging so hot that it’s all we can see.
And he says:
The not yet may feel like not ever, not possible.
but this is not a pipe dream.
God is in the habit of keeping promises,
nothing is impossible for God.
The broken can be mended.
The wrong will be made right.
The dead end can become a way forward.
The lowly will be lifted.
The littlest and least cherished and valued.
Our work, our holy work, is to remain grounded in the dream.
Will that put us out of step with the world around us? make us look foolish?
Yea, Perhaps. Probably.
It reminds me of a beautiful Franciscan benediction that prays:
And may God bless you
with enough foolishness
to believe that you can
make a difference in the world,
so that you can do
what others claim cannot be done.
—
I want to tell you about an interview I heard through the Wall Street Journal .
It was an interview with Martin Luther King Jr’s close friend and speech writer, Clarence B. Jones, as he tells the story of what we now call the “I have a dream” speech at the 1963 March on Washington.
To prepare for that day,
Clarence Jones had worked on a summary of all Dr. King’s main points,
crafted it into 7 paragraphs.
King was the 16th and final speaker of the day.
The event started at 11am and King didn’t start until 3pm.
It was over 80 degrees, hot and humid.
King was working through the well structured speech prepared by Jones.
Mahalia Jackson, a famous singer known as the Queen of Gospel and a friend of King’s, was seated on the podium only a few feet from where King was speaking.
The speech wasn’t lackluster—it was about civil rights and economics—
but it’s wasn’t capturing the people’s attention.
And she was familiar with his other repertoire.
So Mahalia yelled out:
“Tell them about the dream, Martin”
She only yelled it once.
But it was enough for him to hear.
There’s an amazing picture of him catching her eye.
“Tell them about the dream, Martin” is all she said,
Then he pushed his notes to the left side of the podium,
And grabbed the side of it with both hands.
And he said. . . even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow,
I still have a dream.
I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.
I have a dream today!
I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.3
Clarence B. Jones, in that interview, said when he grabbed that podium,
and started in on the dream,
he said he thought:
“Oh, these people don’t know it yet, but they’re about ready to go to church.”
—
Today is Dedication Sunday.
You know sometimes it feels odd
asking you to pledge significant money, often sacrificial money,
that will, frankly, pay my salary,
pay to keep the lights on here in this church home,
when you have your own homes to tend, with their own needs and wants.
Yes, a goodly amount of our budget goes to support non-profits that are doing good work, but you could give to those on your own, and many of you do,
on top of what you give here.
But in a moment, we will sing about the love of Jesus,
perhaps one of the first songs we ever learned as a children,
we’ll sing it and then be asked to respond to that love with our generosity.
We ask because this dream, God’s dream is worth it.
Little children and wise and wrinkled seniors playing in the streets—
at home, at peace, at ease, at one with each other, with God.
We give because we have a job to do.
We have to tell them about the dream.
We get to tell them about the dream.
Tell the confirmands,
Tell the old friends who bop each other with canes,
Tell these children who are rocking their worship leadership skills today,
Tell your friends,
Tell this town.
Church, let’s go,
let’s tell them about the dream.
That we might trust it,
That we might live every day of our lives toward it.
May it be so.
Alleluia. Amen.