September 26, 1999
Rev Andrea Harrison
Hebrew Scripture Reading: Exodus 17:1-7
Gospel Reading: Matthew 21:23-32
Is God Among Us or Not? This is an age old question. In our reading of the story of the ancient Israelites, we might wonder why they would even ask this question. The evidence of God’s presence was all around them. As the storytellers recount the story, God had caused 10 plagues against the Egyptians, to convince the Pharoh to let the Israelites go free. Then as we read two weeks ago, God parted the Red Sea, enabling the Israelites to escape from the Egyptian chariots and soldiers, who were drowned behind them. Then last week, we read that God provided manna and quails in the desert to feed the Israelites. In their journey, the storytellers also recount that the people were led by a pillar of cloud by day, and a pillar of cloud by night. Surely this would be more than enough evidence that God was among them. But here they are, thirsting in the desert, asking if God was among them.
Well, how different are we? I’m a "preacher", but I still wonder from time to time about the existence of God – wonder if these are just beliefs we hold because we want to believe. There are certainly enough people out there who are sure that there is no God. And yet there have been times in my life when there was no doubt. Or maybe it’s not so much about thinking, but about that feeling of God’s presence.
In my preaching life, the times I am most sure of God’s presence is often when I am doing funerals. God’s presence can seem more noticeable in times of crisis. Or the alternative can be true – that God seems more absent in times of crisis
My life, to date, has been relatively crisis-free, and certainly, there have been no tragedies or real hardships in my life. I would say that I lead a blessed life. Of course I appreciate that tragedy can strike at any moment, so I try to remember to count my blessings.
In the absence of tragedy, I think I have sought out other experiences to stimulate my faith and assure me of God’s presence. As a kid, Church camp was certainly one of those experiences. As an adult, travelling with other Christians to Haiti, and then a year later, going behind the Iron Curtain to Romania certainly stimulated my faith and drew me into God’s presence.
In theological college, a trip to Mexico had its impact. We visited impoverished communities in the slums and hillsides. We learned of the social, economic, and political forces that keep many in misery and poverty, while others prosper and profit. We were held up at gun point by three "banditos" as we journeyed by bus. These experiences affected each of us differently. Some were traumatized by the experience of looking down the barrel of a gun. Bill Chambré merely noted that the barrel of the Colt 45, pointed through the window at him, was dirty. [Editorial note: Obviously, he’s been through too many military inspections, and has lost all perspective!]
Accompanying all of these journey experiences, was the presence of other Christian believers. And as we struggled with what we were experiencing in Haiti, Romania, and Mexico, we prayed together, read Scripture together, sang hymns and songs. The trips on their own would not have brought me into God’s presence in the same way – it was the active seeking out of God’s presence along the journey, through fellowship, prayer, silence, Scripture, hymns that made the difference
When we returned as a class, from Mexico, we were changed. There was an almost palpable "we/they", between those of us who had gone to Mexico, and those students and teachers who had not. And yet, we travellers had to return to that ordinary place of theological college. How could we relate to those who had not experienced what we had? How could we nurture their faith, or they nurture ours? It now seemed like we were from two different worlds.
We were back in school on the Monday, then Tuesday at 11:30 in the morning, it was time, as it was each week, for chapel. We and They gathered for worship – for hymns, prayers, readings, sermon, and communion. I don’t remember what we sang or read, but the preacher that week was Bill Morrow, professor of Hebrew Scripture, and the Hebrew and Greek languages. This is the professor who I think most profoundly influenced my appreciation for Scripture, and my quest to make intellectual sense of the Christian faith.
I have no idea what he said, but his words, his passion, and his presence that day in chapel broke through the emotions, the we/they barriers, brought us together again as a Christian community, journeying in the presence of God. God was among us, not left behind in Mexico. There were tears as we sat in the pews. There were hugs as we passed the peace before communion. There was that wonderful sense of oneness as we all partook of bread and wine. We also listened to the Joan Osborne song that I played during the children’s time. The music and the words spoke to us, and in the midst of all the passion, we all had a good laugh at the last line about God talking on the phone to the Pope in Rome.
When the chief priests and elders came to Jesus and asked him, "By what authority are your doing these things, and who gave you this authority?" we can hear them asking, "Is God among us or not?" The problem was that they didn’t want the answer. They didn’t want to know that God was indeed among them in this unexpected way. They wanted order, tradition, and the safety of encountering God in familiar ways, or not at all.
So here we have a dilemma. From my experience, religious practice with a community of believers has helped me to encounter God. But in this story of religious leaders in Jesus’ day, it seems that their practice of religion blinded them to the presence of God in the flesh, right in front of them.
Within a community of faith, we can be blinded to God’s presence, perhaps because we don’t expect to encounter God among us, or we’re bored, or irritated, or tuned out. Within a community of faith, we can also find meaning, and find a presence that is more than the sum of just those of us who are gathered. Next week, we will be celebrating worldwide communion Sunday – a chance to "taste and see" God as part of a global community. Will we sense God’s presence among us?
Perhaps our Bible stories today are inviting us to keep asking the question, "Is God among us or not?" Perhaps in the asking of the question we are inviting God to respond. When the ancient Israelites asked "Is the Lord among us or not?", God responded by giving them water to drink. When the Jewish leaders of Jesus’ time asked "By what authority are your doing these things, and who gave you this authority?", Jesus responded, suggesting that they were afraid to encounter the truth of the answer, so he gave them no direct answer.
Perhaps if we honestly ask the question, "Is God among us or not?", God will give us a sign, a glimpse of her holy presence, a touch of his powerful hand. And maybe that will happen for us sometimes in worship, sometimes in the midst of a crisis, sometimes in the midst of joy, but if we persist in asking for God’s presence to be revealed, if we draw upon the resources of worship, prayer, music, candle lighting, nature walks – whatever methods we find helpful – we will indeed have times that we know that God is present with us in our lives.
Then in those times when we do not quite feel God’s presence, we can harken back to those special moments when we did not have doubt, when we knew that God was walking beside us as protector and friend. In those times of doubt, we can also console ourselves knowing that faithful people of all era’s have asked the question, "Is God among us or not?"
