Following that lengthy Stewardship video, I can imagine what some of you are thinking—you’ve already heard a sermon from me this morning! Your Stewardship Committee felt strongly that you should hear a different kind of Stewardship message this year, and that you should hear it as we gather on Sunday. Please share it as we post it online this week. There is so much good ministry happening here. We have been balancing our budget each year, but not in a way that is sustainable. We hope you will reflect carefully on your contribution this year, and join us as we invest in the future so we can keep doing so many good things. Here we are committed to something that is meaningful, I consider it a blessing to invite you to share in it.
But—I still feel called to preach this morning, because being invested in or committed to a community is so much bigger than money, and that’s what I want to talk to you about here in sermon number 2. Being part of a good community is so important; it is one of the chief antidotes to the loneliness, anxiety and depression that is rampant in our culture right now. Being committed to a community is key to finding peace in the midst of struggle and finding simple joy in each day. And there’s nothing new about it. This message begins in the Bible.
One of my favorite stories in Scripture supports this idea. We read from it this morning; it comes from the Book of Jeremiah. A little context is helpful. Jeremiah lived and wrote in a time called the Babylonian Exile. In ancient Israel there were times of great prosperity, but also times of terrible upheaval; unprincipled rulers weakened the kingdom; the community frayed, and warring tribes from outside took advantage. The worst of these times took place when the Babylonian Empire was on the rise. They laid siege to Jerusalem, sacking the city and destroying the palace and Temple. In order to cement their dominance, the Babylonians exiled the Israelites. This meant that anyone who had leadership potential: those who had been a part of government, religious leadership, scholars and teachers, leaders in business…all of these people were forcibly removed from their homes and taken to Babylon to live in exile.
It’s hard to imagine a more dismaying and disorienting experience; the Scriptures tell of the hopelessness of the people and the ways their life together had fallen apart.
But even as dismaying as this circumstance of exile must have been, Jeremiah issues a call to the exiles in Babylon; a call from God that is challenging and also hopeful: “Build houses and live in them,” says the Lord. “Plant gardens and eat what they produce. Take wives and have sons and daughters…multiply there and do not decrease. But seek the welfare of the city to which I have sent you…,” says the Lord, “…for in its welfare you will find your welfare.” Commitment is the key to survival, Jeremiah says. I know at times in life you may not be at home, but invest yourself in the home and the neighbors you have. This is how you will find purpose in the midst of the exile.
One of the things I love about this story is that I think there is something in it for everyone, for exile is an experience just about all of us can connect to in some way. You just have to be a little careful how you talk about exile.
Tragically, there are millions of people in the world who find themselves living in true, physical exile from there homes. Refugees from climate crises and violence in Africa and Latin America, victims of war in Sudan, Palestine and now Lebanon, Ukraine. These tragedies are so immense that they make Jeremiah’s teaching sound tone deaf. Can you imagine suggesting to someone living in a refugee camp: “build houses and plant trees…” Of course not. And while I don’t understand the depth of that experience at all, I do have to imagine that the only ways human beings survive such a thing—if they do survive—is to find community—people with whom to partner and share what meager resources they have and to rely upon each other.
Other examples of those in exile are not quite so extreme.
Some of the best examples of exiles may be the hardworking people who migrate with their families to another country, seeking opportunity. Simran Jeet Singh, who was with us just last week, tells the compelling story of his father’s journey from the Punjab region of India to a new home in Texas. He married and started a new life, working, raising children, and yet doing so in incredible social isolation, maligned for wearing a turban, kids thrown out of soccer games and skating rinks. We were joined in worship last week by exiles such as these. A similar story is true for Haitian immigrants in our neighbor city of Springfield, who their mayor and our governor have called good, decent and hardworking people, just like those who have lived in Springfield for a long time and welcomed them. They have been publicly maligned and threatened in recent days. Thank God that the outpouring of support for them from churches of all kinds has been incredible; church people know that like the exiles of old, these people are making a commitment to life in a new land: build houses and life in them..plant trees and eat their fruit…marry… Put your children on the soccer team, join the PTA, take your kids to the birthday party…seek the welfare of the city to which I have sent you. This is the life of an immigrant. This good and faithful life so many find as they look for community in the midst of exile.
But to go a slightly different direction: what I find the most surprising about this Bible story and its metaphor of exile, is that you don’t have to be physically disconnected from your homeland in order to connect with this story. Exile is such a powerful idea because we have all some point felt isolated, removed from what we know, separated from what we once knew.
I wonder if you’ve ever had the experience of going through some difficult trial in life and feeling like you are not sure you know yourself anymore, almost like you have become a stranger in your own body. It happens all the time by people who suffer from addiction or other forms of mental illness, or when any of us experience periods of anxiety or depression. It even happens in the normal course of trying to manage stress, or adjust to some new challenge in life: becoming a parent, enduring a midlife crisis, transitioning to retirement, grieving the loss of a loved one. Often I visit with folks who say things like, “Some days I barely recognize myself.” This too is exile.
Now of course, we want to be a little bit careful, when we use the term exile to describe these more common and everyday examples, that we don’t minimize the suffering of the people I was talking about before—the immigrant or refugee, the person in serious, immediate danger. But the connection is actually an important one: the shared experience of exile, and the many forms in which it comes, can connect us with people who are different from ourselves, and awaken in us compassion for them. The crises endured by the refugee, the immigrant, the culture wide crises in addiction and loneliness that our country is facing—these challenges are met when people reach out in concern for others because we know what exile feels like. People who understand exile can see in everyone the need for community, and we invest ourselves in connecting with others.
Our congregation is a community that helps exiles find their way in life. We do this in all kinds of everyday but important ways. We help each other navigate parenthood and retirement and grief. We do it through the church’s 12-step programs for addicts; we house homeless families living on our third floor this very week. We’ve done it in the past year through our trips to the border in Texas to increase our understanding, and through a family we met there who we helped to settle in Cincinnati. All of these are stories of finding community in exile. It is often through helping others that we are blessed to find our own healing. We reach out in friendship because at some gut level we know what exile looks like; and when we live in community, we find that all God’s children are connected.
Let’s be frank about it: this is a stewardship sermon, and I hope that in hearing it, you will look for the pledge card coming in your mail this week, and will prayerfully consider how you will invest in this community in the year to come. I am not at all shy in sharing that message, because I believe that being a part of this community is a gift—I see it every day, and I want all of you to be invited to share in it, so that we can experience how very connected God hopes for us all to be.
I am so grateful for this community, and for its daily examples of people who give generously of their time, talent, and treasure. We do this so that people of all kinds, close by and far away, can find their way through times of exile, and become part of a community. And I am grateful that God gives us today’s story, one that we have all felt at one time or another: a story of exile invites us to a way out, a way out of loneliness into lives of connection: “Build houses and live in them. Plant gardens and eat what they produce. Take wives and have sons and daughters…multiply there and do not decrease. But seek the welfare of the city to which I have sent you…,” says the Lord, “…for in its welfare you will find your welfare.” Amen.