Nobody 869

Sunday, May 29, 2011

Nobody # 869

Nobody Asked Me But:

As many of you know, I spent a semester at San Francisco Theological Seminary, in San Anselmo (Marin County). I was going to be a Presbyterian minister, but discovering that I was an atheist messed up my plan. Nevertheless, my time there made me the minister’s choice to preach occasionally in their absence. This happened several times in Ajo and later in Simi Valley.

A couple of weeks ago, as part of my scanning project, I found several of my sermons buried in a trunk in the garage. I thought it would be fun and interesting to post this one, from 1967, as a Nobody. I was tempted to clean up the writing a little (hopefully I have improved in the past 44 years) but I did not. This, with all its blemishes, is the way I delivered it that Sunday at the Simi Valley Presbyterian Church.

First Corinthians 13

Webster’s Dictionary defines dream as an imaginary vision, or a reality suggestive of such a vision. I had such a visionary experience a few days ago, and I would like to tell you about it.

In my dream, I was a sojourner, a traveler from afar. I came upon this land, America, and the first sight of it overwhelmed me. I saw a land of incredible beauty built out of ideal after golden ideal. The construction materials were such things as “all men are created equal” and self-determination and tolerance and democracy, spiritualism and the respect for others, brotherhood of man and “liberty and justice for all.” At the base of the structure, providing the essential support was the most beautiful ideal of all – “love thy neighbor as thyself.”

Surely I thought, surely this is paradise come to earth. Surely this is a kingdom built by God himself.

Anxiously I moved from without the kingdom to within. I must walk among the people who created such magic. I must share in the further glories of their creation.

I first found myself in a place called Detroit. Instead of magic, I found chaos. I saw people walking the streets with guns in their hands. Others were breaking windows and stealing things. I saw a young boy bleeding and dying in the streets. There was burning and destruction all around me.

I cried in anguish. What manner of man could do this? Who could be so evil as to destroy the beauty? Surely nothing could justify this attempt to tear down this civilization.

And then, I was in another place, a place called Democracy, Mississippi, and I saw these same people being denied their right to share in their government, being kept from the polling places by dogs and fire hoses and policemen’s clubs --- and I wondered.

I walked through a place called Harlem, and I saw despair. I saw homes unfit for housing, hungry children, rat-bitten babies, idle men with the vacant stares of the unwanted.

Everywhere I went, I saw these same people, this same struggle – the effort to earn a decent living in a land of plenty – to have a chance at education – to have the right to live in any neighborhood – to marry without making the front page of the news media, and, above all, in a land of equality, to be accepted as an equal.

To escape the label of second class – here is the hope and, and here is the hopelessness.

I saw these people in this land of ideals – and I wondered.

To the countryside I turned as I sought escape from the realities of the city. Certainly the dream must be intact here in the midst of the natural beauty of this great nation. And yet, here too I found despair. I found streams and rivers filthy with pollution. I found mountains of junked cars and wastelands of discarded trash.

I saw soil eroded and natural resources wasted. I saw the countryside disfigured by tree stumps and signboards and tin cans and old tires.

Back I fled to the city only to be choked by polluted air, overcome by the rush of the crowd – attacked by the criminal, propositioned by the dope-peddler and smothered by the noise, the noise – the noise.

Where were the people of the city? Surely they must be somewhere fighting these evils. But no, here is the typical man, driving to his fine home in his new car, turning on his color TV, pouring himself a drink while he complains about the possibility of higher taxes that will rob him of the chance of having some of the luxuries of life.

Can he be expected to share his money when there are so many things that he needs – the power saw and the new camper, the plush carpet and a car for the kids to drive to school? Certainly there are serious problems in the country. But, after all, he didn’t create them.

I saw all of these things, and I wondered.

I turn next to the government. The leader of this nation, I thought, he is the one to lead the fight. He is the one to cure the sickness. But I hear the leader say I have no time to cure the sickness, because I must fight a war. How can I worry about the lost in my country when I am being challenged abroad?

A young soldier questioned him. Is this a just war that I must fight? The leader answered him by saying, “I have no time for such nonsense as right and wrong. Justice and injustice are irrelevant when we are faced with the specter of communism.”

“We must be practical. We must look out for our country’s interests. We must save the people of Vietnam, even if it is against their will.”

Everywhere in the capital it was the same story. I hear talk of escalation and de-escalation, of enemy dead and enemy wounded, of the possibility, and, occasionally, even the desirability of using the ultimate weapon.

Now and then I would cry out – but what of our country, our ideals? Quickly my voice was drowned out by shouts of patriotism and God is on our side.

I wondered as I heard these things – is there no voice to speak for right? Are there no hands left to work for ideals? And suddenly, words echoed in my mind – the church, the church, the Christian Church. And I was filled with hope. I must find and work with these people who believe in the greatest of ideals – To love thy neighbor as thyself.

But I searched and searched and could not find them, I found beautiful sanctuaries and fine Sunday School rooms. I found stained glass windows and filled offering plates. I found people crowding in – except on Sundays ideal for golf, or picnics, or late sleeping. But I found no Christians.

Instead, I found people going through the motions. I found people committed to the belief that love thy neighbor is a beautiful dream but just not practical in the real world.

I found a church afraid to speak out on issues such as Vietnam because they might be controversial and make people angry or hurt their feelings. I found a church without commitment to the civil rights movement lest their members be offended and stop giving money.

I cried out in despair. Are there none among you who believe that the words of Jesus are practical? Are there none among you who believe that he who would be first, must be last?

Here and there a voice cried out. I do! Only to be drowned out by the scoffers – idealist, impractical visionary, utopian.

In my dream I was a sojourner in a strange land, I saw and heard all of those things, and I wondered. Was all the beauty and were all the ideals a facade? And then, in a surge of hope, I knew the answer. A people who can dream such beautiful dreams can make them come true – if they are willing.

I had a dream a few nights ago, and the dream turned out to be a nightmare. And I awoke ------- and it was no dream.