“Judgment” - July 10, 2016

Psalm 82

  

I realize it’s a little unusual to hold a church fire drill like we did last week, but let me offer a word of explanation that, oddly enough, may have something to do with the Psalm for this week.

Fires do happen in churches.  One of those was Salem United Methodist Church in Allentown and it happened on the second Tuesday of August in 2001.  It was a beautiful, clear afternoon and perfect weather for a roofer to fix the leak in the church roof.  It was only a tiny leak in the copper ridgecap, the size of a nail, but it was enough to let water sneak in and run down underneath the slate roof and along the rafters until it made its way through the plaster of the vaulted ceiling and occasionally onto the head of whoever was sitting in the third row from the back on the Linden St. side.  Fixing this leak was simple.  The hardest part was getting up there.  The repair meant taking a small piece of copper and brazing it over the hole with a blowtorch.  That part would take a few minutes at most.  The roofer went up there and did his job but overheated the copper just enough for the hundred-year-old wooden beam beneath it to ignite.  Even this should not have been a problem if the roofer had had a small fire extinguisher with him, as he was required by the insurance company to do.  By the time he was able to get down to the sidewalk it was too late.  He had the good sense to go inside and let the secretary know to call the fire department and to evacuate the building.  I was four blocks away, heading into the hospital, and got there right after the firetrucks.  The fire spread quickly but was contained to the sanctuary but the rest of the building had extensive water and smoke damage, all to the tune of $3 million dollars before the day was over.  It would be fourteen months before we were back there for worship.

Let me tell you about the roofer, though.  He wasn’t fired, because his father owned the company.  He didn’t really need to be punished, honestly, because he punished himself enough for it.  Over the next few weeks I would see him parked across the street, staring at the mess and the danger area that the police blocked off.  He apologized over and over, and it was not just some stock words.  He meant it.  He wasn’t eating, and he was dreaming about the fire when and if he slept.

About three weeks passed, and it was another beautiful Tuesday morning with a clear sky.  The date was September 11.  About one hundred miles from Allentown another fire broke out, this one not an accident, and not in an almost-empty building.  Most of you remember that day.  The rest have heard about it.

Not long afterward I saw the roofer again, and he looked different.  He said to me, “It could have been worse, couldn’t it?”  I said, “Yes.”  He said, “It was an accident.”  I said, “Exactly.  You made a mistake but nobody got hurt.”  And he no longer needed to sit and stare.  As for us, we would rebuild.  We even got an elevator.

Meanwhile, there were bigger events on people’s minds.    We were at war but didn’t know with whom.  I still remember the text for my sermon the Sunday following 9/11.  It was the regular lectionary reading for that Sunday, Jeremiah 4:22-26 :

“‘For my people are foolish,
   they do not know me;
they are stupid children,
   they have no understanding.
They are skilled in doing evil,
   but do not know how to do good.’

I looked on the earth, and lo, it was waste and void; and to the heavens, and they had no light.

I looked on the mountains, and lo, they were quaking, and all the hills moved to and fro.

I looked, and lo, there was no one at all, and all the birds of the air had fled.

I looked, and lo, the fruitful land was a desert, and all its cities were laid in ruins before the Lord, before his fierce anger.”

The prophet spoke about God’s judgment, and what it could do.  We had seen devastation of the sort that many lands live with but that was new to us, and to be honest, we were wishing for God’s judgment to be visited upon whoever had brought destruction and death out of the skies that day.

            When I hear Psalm 82 it echoes Jeremiah but also expresses an unspoken prayer that has been part of so many people’s lives since then, but that we are almost embarrassed to voice:

“Rise up, O God, judge the earth; for all the nations belong to you!” [Psalm 82:8]

That was never the sort of response that anybody at Salem had to the man who burned their church.  He had been negligent but not malicious and he was truly sorry.  This, though, was an act of hatred and carried out on people who had never done any harm to the terrorists.  The attacks of 9/11 brought out exactly the emotions that Psalm 82 embodies, the desire of those who have helplessly endured the ravages of the unscrupulous powerful for God to judge their tormentors.

            Who, in a week where the news has been charged with events like the shootings of Alton Sterling and Philandro Castile, of Brent Thompson and Patrick Zamarippa and Michael Krol and Lorne Ahrens and Michael Smith, cannot feel the need – not just the want, but the need – for God to take up the judgment of public chaos in the divine court?  That does not come so much from a desire for punishment as it arises from humble recognition that our human judgment often makes things worse.  Look at the bombings and murderous suicide attacks in Medina and Baghdad and Jeddah and Karachi if you want to know how much worse it can become.  We in this country are not alone in this prayer.  Tragically, it is universal.

            It can sound terrible to pray for that, but it's part of praying for deliverance from enemies or anyone who wishes you ill, and that is also part of what may be in the heart of anyone who finds themselves abused in their home or pushed around at work or exploited by the economy or brushed aside.  It can sound terrible, that kind of prayer – and this is key – pushes retribution a step away from ourselves. It places it in God's hands, which is to say it is not in mine.

            To pray like that is to separate justice from the desire for revenge, and that is a difficult division to make.  That's especially important at times when one's insight is clouded, as when the roofer judged himself or when all Japanese people in the U.S. were rounded up after Pearl Harbor or when you realize that the person who constantly takes credit for your work has also been cooking the books.  Justice has to be separated from revenge, and that is a job for someone who cannot be harmed but who understands and cares about those who can be harmed.

           “God has taken his place in the divine council; 
                    in the midst of the gods he holds judgment:
           ‘How long will you judge unjustly and show
                    partiality to the wicked?
           Give justice to the weak and the orphan; 
                    maintain the right of the lowly and the destitute.
           Rescue the weak and the needy; 
                    deliver them from the hand of the wicked.’” [Psalm 82:1-4]