Proper 10B

Denise Giardina
July 12, 2009

Amos 7:7-15; Psalm 85:8-13; Ephesians 1:3-14; Mark 6:14-29

THIS IS A PLUMB LINE. AND THIS IS TRUE VERTICLE.

Today’s Old Testament lesson is from the Book of Amos. Amos was one of the great prophets of the northern kingdom of Israel, and one of my favorite prophets in the Bible. In Chapter 7 the Lord shows Amos a vision. The Lord is standing beside a wall built with a plumb line, and the Lord holds the plumb line in his hand.

Now, some of you handy folk out there know what a plumb line is, but if you’re as unhandy as I am, you may not know a thing about it. So I brought that plumb line to show you, obtained from Pile Hardware. (And by the way, if you have hardware needs, I recommend you go to Pile’s. Not only are they local merchants and far friendlier than Lowe’s, the Piles are Episcopalians who would appreciate your business. Not that I would advertise from the pulpit, but just putting that bug in your ear!)

Anyway, the plumb line from Pile’s actually labels itself a Plumb Bob, which is the more modern term. Here is how the package describes it: “For Surveyors, Masons, Builders, Plumbers, Decorators and Do-It-Yourselfers.” On the back, the package lists the uses for the plumb line. Among them are “installing deck posts, support beams, wallpaper and plumbing (and I’m guessing we get our word ‘plumbing’ from the plumb line). Other uses are surveying, and “determining true vertical in construction.” True vertical. That’s true up and down.

The plumb line dates back to the time of the ancient Egyptians. Plumb lines were used to build the pyramids, to build the temple in Jerusalem, to build the great cathedrals of medieval Europe. They are still used today. And a modern definition, from Wikipedia, says a plumb line “determines if constructions are perfectly upright.” Perfect uprightness.

With all our high-tech know-how, our computers and I-Phones and GPS systems to get us where we are going, when it comes to finding true vertical, true uprightness, all you need is a string, and a cylindrical weight.

The prophet Amos used a plumb line to describe God’s judgment of Israel. “See” Amos has the Lord say, “I am setting a plumb line in the midst of my people Israel; I will never again pass them by:” When Amos says that Yahweh will never again pass his people by, he means God will no longer refuse to hold Israel to true uprightness. Amos means God will now judge Israel as he does other nations. Judgment is now for all. The plumb line will show how far Israel has strayed. And, Amos concludes, that judgment will mean “the high places of Isaac shall be made desolate, and the sanctuaries of Israel shall be laid waste.”

As we should expect, for preaching these things, Amos gets in trouble. King Jeroboam of Israel is not pleased, especially when Amos predicts, “Jeroboam shall die by the sword”. Amos is urged to flee. He protests, “I am no prophet, nor a prophet’s son; but I am a herdsman, and a dresser of sycamore trees.” Did this protestation of humbleness get Amos out of trouble with authority? I doubt it. And the plumb line still hangs, showing what is upright, and not upright.

There are many things that Christian churches do very well, and each branch of the Church has its special talents. We Episcopalians are good at music, along with our cousins the Methodists. And like the Catholics, we are also gifted with liturgy. There is nothing like a Holiness church for good old-fashioned release of emotion and spiritual fervor. The Methodists and Baptists are aces at knowledge of scripture, the Presbyterians and Congregationalists at simplicity and directness.

All mainstream Christian traditions, through the centuries, have provided for the sick, supported the arts, educated the young, encouraged the building of communities of various sorts, contributed to social well being. But there is one thing that we do very, very badly. It is something that we are called to do, and yet we fail at it again and again. It is not just that we fail at it; most often we don’t even try. I am speaking of our call to speak truth to power. That is what Amos did.

Let me be clear what I mean when I talk of speaking truth to power. I am speaking of power wielded by political and economic institutions. I am not pointing to one particular party, or one particular company, or one particular bank, or one particular armed service. I am pointing to all of them. Power is power, whether it is wielded by the Democrats or the Republicans, whether by George W. Bush or Barack Obama, or Congress or the Supreme Court, whether it is the Army or the Navy, BB&T or Bank of America, the leaders of Russia or China or Nigeria or Venezuela, Dow or Toyota or Accordia, or Appalachian Power, or Massey. Those institutions have dominion over us in this world. They have power.

Let me also be clear I am not pointing fingers at individuals connected with those institutions. ALL of us are connected in one way or the other, whether we are citizens or employees or investors, or customers. Despite our connections, or perhaps because of them, we feel helpless in the face of those powers. And for the most part, churches, often so verbal, so vocal, fall silent in the face of these powers. This is a plea that it not be so. This a plea for churches now and then, as institutions themselves, to stand up and say to power, No. You should not do that. That is not what Christ taught. That is not true uprightness.

I believe I understand why we are so quiet. Today’s gospel demonstrates what can happen when we speak truth to power. John the Baptist confronted the ruler of his part of the world, Herod. Herod decided to have John the Baptist’s head cut off. In the passage in Mark, it seems Herod is reluctant. I am particularly struck by one line. When Herod heard John, we are told, he was greatly perplexed. And yet, we are also told, Herod liked to listen to John. That, I think, is because John had something important to say, something even kings could learn from. Even the powerful can benefit from hearing the truth.

And yet because Herod had power, and because he did not want to lose face with his guests, he had John beheaded. When we read that passage of scripture, I suspect we relate to John the Baptist, we root for him and are sad at his demise. And yet, truth be told, our lives are accurately described by the Anglican poet T.S. Eliot in his famous poem, “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.”

Eliot’s narrator, who we assume to be Prufrock, longs for engagement with life. But he wonders if he has “the strength to force the moment to its crisis.” He says, “though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed, though I have seen my head [grown slightly bald] brought in upon a platter, I am no prophet.” And a little later in the poem, the narrator admits, “I was afraid.”

We are J. Alfred Prufrock. We are no prophets. We are afraid. And so we do not respond to this ultimate call from God. There have been exceptions. Exceptions like Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Archbishop Oscar Romero in El Salvador, Martin Luther King, and other less famous church people connected to the movements those men led. Those leaders, by the way, have all been memorialized now with statues on the outside of Westminster Abbey. Would God they were so honored in their lifetimes. Instead, they were killed for speaking truth to power.

Why, given the assurances of the Gospel, have there not been more people called up to oppose the great evils that still exist in the world? Why not more Oscar Romero’s and Martin Luther Kings? Why can’t we be the people to answer that call? Why are we, instead, J.Alfred Prufrocks? I don’t know the answer. I challenge myself, and you, to come up with the answer.

Speaking truth to power gets the king mad at you. Speaking truth to power gets your head cut off. But still God holds up the challenge before us.
[DROP PLUMBLINE]
True vertical.