Sermon Tone Analysis

We have heard from the prophets over the last few weeks and the pictures they paint of the world can often be quite bleak and desolate.

Prophets are truth tellers — they tell us the truth about how the world is.

Not a lot of sugar coating or spin to make it seem better, they are simply the ones called by God to name the truth of how things are, to pull back the curtain and expose suffering, misuse of power, the degradation of creation, the iniquities of humanity.

Today we will hear a familiar passage from the book of Joel, one often read at Pentecost to describe how God pours out God’s love and spirit upon God’s people and calls them.

But before we do, let’s set the stage for the words of hope and comfort that will come later by hearing the opening from the book of Joel, yet another desolate picture of a world on the brink, the truth of a land desecrated and people in lament:

Lament over the Ruin of the Country

(Ex 10:1–20)

2 Hear this, O elders,

give ear, all inhabitants of the land!

Has such a thing happened in your days,

or in the days of your ancestors?

3 Tell your children of it,

and let your children tell their children,

and their children another generation.

4 What the cutting locust left,

the swarming locust has eaten.

What the swarming locust left,

the hopping locust has eaten,

and what the hopping locust left,

the destroying locust has eaten.

5 Wake up, you drunkards, and weep;

and wail, all you wine-drinkers,

over the sweet wine,

for it is cut off from your mouth.

6 For a nation has invaded my land,

powerful and innumerable;

its teeth are lions’ teeth,

and it has the fangs of a lioness.

7 It has laid waste my vines,

and splintered my fig trees;

it has stripped off their bark and thrown it down;

their branches have turned white.

8 Lament like a virgin dressed in sackcloth

for the husband of her youth.

9 The grain offering and the drink offering are cut off

from the house of the LORD.

The priests mourn,

the ministers of the LORD.

10 The fields are devastated,

the ground mourns;

for the grain is destroyed,

the wine dries up,

the oil fails.

11 Be dismayed, you farmers,

wail, you vinedressers,

over the wheat and the barley;

for the crops of the field are ruined.

12 The vine withers,

the fig tree droops.

Pomegranate, palm, and apple—

all the trees of the field are dried up;

surely, joy withers away

among the people.

Let’s pause for a moment here.

Exhale the breath that you are holding, exhaling the weight of this passage, the heavy images of a desolate land.

Breathe in.

Exhale the truth of our own desolate land.

Exhale the sorrow and suffering that we witness and experience ourselves.

Breathe deeply in the presence of the Spirit.

Before moving on today, let me ask you — are you in need of comfort?

Do you long for a comforting word from God today?

Raise your hand if you have felt the weight of desolation and scarcity in the world this week?

Raise your hand if you’ve seen the pain and famine, the tears and sadness?

Raise your hand if you’ve longed for God’s peace, for God’s love to come and make all things new.

We are here in solidarity and resonance with God’s people who faced desolation.

Let me unsettle you just a moment longer and then, I promise you, we will see that this word from the Lord turns us unequivocally toward hope of restoration.

I imagine it is not news to you that many of our religious institutions face statistical decline across the United States.

Church membership is dwindling, long-standing congregations are slowly closing down across the country.

I was at a Presbytery meeting these last couple of days where once again we heard the stats that point to fewer and fewer traditional models of brick and morter churches are carrying on with their ministry.

There is a deep sense of sadness and loss.

As I mentioned a few weeks back, as we began our stewardship season, St. James has been no stranger to the sense of impending decline and change.

There have been years in our not so distant future when, through ongoing transition, our congregation felt the sense of loss so acutely.

You know this pain, this fear.

One of the greatest disservices we do ourselves in the church is when we deny the reality of our pain or the struggles that we face.

When we simply push it down, ignore it, or let it lash out in anger but without the healthy catharsis of tears and grief.

To this unwillingness to acknowledge and name the pain — I want to forcefully say we MUST name and confess it.

We must speak it, own it, and breathe into it.

For it is in the naming of the desolation, the acknowledgement of what is not working, that we enter into the process of true healing and restoration.

As we hear in the opening from the prophet Joel — the people of God and their prophets knew the truth of what I am saying to you — they knew that the truth must be spoken, the pain named, the desolation acknowledged.

And Joel does so, in passionate, descriptive, poetic ways, does he not?

Some the most direct criticism I have received about sermons I have preached in the past (certainly not from any of you…) has been that we don’t gather for worship to hear about how bad the world is or to equate these times of biblical famine and exile with any of the struggles we face today, socially, politically, environmentally, or otherwise.

To this feedback, I respectfully must respond: It is this very sentiment that withers the church of its strength.

The denial of the truth, the brokenness and desolation we see in fact weakens us, diminishes us.

We must name the truth — we must tell the truth about what is struggle and hardship, heartbreak and pain.

Not because we dwell upon it.

Not because we have no hope.

But because naming it acknowledges the weight we are all bearing and…naming it begins to undo the power these oppressive forces have over us.

I’m reading the Harry Potter books to Asher, slowly, aloud these days.

For a 5 year old, he’s actually comprehending a good bit of it and really enjoys the fact that I make all the character’s voices.

The antagonist in the stories is Voldemort, a dark wizard.

And one of the biggest reasons he holds such power is that people fear to speak his name.

They call him “You-know-who” or “he-who-must-not-be-named!” By not naming him, he has power to create fear.

The prophets are without this fear.

They tell us the truth.

But as they tell the truth about what is, they also tell the truth about who God is and what will be.

Let’s hear our sermon reading from the 2nd chapter of Joel.

Here is where, once the truth has been named, we see the turn to the hope of restoration.

23 O children of Zion, be glad

and rejoice in the LORD your God;

for he has given the early rain for your vindication,