{podcast_episode 201}
The bird pulled on the mouse who pulled on the cat who pulled on the dog who dog pulled on the girl who pulled on the boy who pulled on the wife who pulled on the farmer who pulled and pulled and pulled on the turnip. But still, that turnip just did not turn up!
The entire village would’ve gone hungry but for the strength of a ladybug. It seems nothing happens until everything in the kingdom lines up for love and justice. And, in the meantime, God waits.
Good story, isn’t it? But is it true?
The basic premise, I think, is true. But how it plays out depends on the community in which the story takes place. Two examples:
In one village, a ladybug possessing the missing muscle loosened the turnip which made the soup which fed the village. And everyone was thrilled. And the story of teamwork inspired the village church to start a food pantry. And the efforts of the church prompted others to begin working for justice. And the inspiration of this work spread to the larger community who banded together to help the poor; who in turn came together to care for and educate the children; who in turn grew up to build a great nation. And the nation banded together with other nations and ended hunger and disease. All of which occurred while God stood there, slack-jawed and dumb-founded. She rubbed her eyes, not daring to believe that what she’d always hoped for was finally coming true. Then, seeing it was, She smiled. And She put her hands on her big sturdy hips and said, ‘S’about time!’ And She blessed it, saying it was good. And She walked home.
Now, in an identical village about the same time… another ladybug also found a way to loosen the turnip which also made the soup which fed the village. And everyone was thrilled. And the story made the papers. And the village nightly news. Which prompted the ladybug to tell everyone how HE saved the farm. Whereupon he was hired to be the spokesperson for a big agricultural company. And he began doing commercials. Which eventually got him a television contract. His agent helped him promote seminars promising clients a better harvest. And after the ladybug became famous, the church hired him to run the food pantry. But when they discovered the ladybug was only an advisor and wouldn’t do any actual work, they sued the agent and the agricultural company. Which seemed like justice. But it didn’t inspire the larger community to help the poor. Which didn’t change the lives of the children. Who didn’t grow up and build a great nation. Who didn’t join with other nations to end hunger and disease. All of which never caught the attention of God who continued to stand there with her hands on her sturdy hips, waiting.
This is a sermon about the difference that’s needed to turn the tides of the world and change the fortunes of people. This is a sermon about temperament. And trust. And power. And glory. And what’s needed to bring these together for love and justice.
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It’s October. And our theme this month is covenant – coming together to fulfill a common promise. Throughout history, October has been a month of people trying to come together.
Back in the 17th century, October was a time when liberal preachers delivered sermons on moral initiatives within the political landscape. One could expect to go to church and for TWO HOURS – that’s right, sermons in those days were all at least two hours – the preacher would pontificate. And the gist was basically this:
“You’re going to hell. And the reason is simple: You’re going to hell because of your sins. Everything that’s wrong with the world is because of your hard headedness and your hard heartedness. And if you keep it up you’re going to burn. So, listen up if you want to be saved.”
Well, people did burn. For at least two hours. But not much else changed.
So, you’ll be happy to know I don’t plan to go on that long today. For three reasons:
- You are not the problem
- I am not the answer
- And no one here needs saving.
Instead, I want to talk about fulfilling the promise – building the beloved kingdom… and the team work that’s needed to get there. So, let me get to the heart of the issue.
In case you didn’t know, I’m an Angels fan. Have been since I was very little.
Twelve years ago, they met the San Francisco Giants in the 2002 World Series.
It had taken the Angels 43 years to reach the World Series. And when you pledge your loyalty to a team that takes 43 years to get to the World Series, it goes without saying that you end up rooting for some pretty bad teams.
Every year we prayed for a big name. A hero. A giant among players who would lift the team on his shoulders and carry us to victory. The front office tried – typically signing players in the twilight of their career: Reggie Jackson. Rod Carew. Nolan Ryan. Mo Vaughn – all became Angels. But none managed to lift the team to victory. And for years, I – and God – were left waiting.
But 1985 brought pitcher Donnie Moore to the Angels. Donnie Moore had risen to become a giant. In his first year with the Angels, he made the All-Star team. He recorded 31 saves and became the team’s MVP. He was awarded a $3.1 million contract – one of the largest of the day.
The Angels made the playoffs that year and, in the first round, were up 2-0 in a best of five series with the Red Sox. Donnie Moore came into the fourth game of the American League Championship series with the Angels one out – one strike – away from going to their first World Series. With a one-run lead and a runner on base, and two strikes on Dave Henderson, Moore threw a pitch which Henderson launched over the centerfield wall. A forkball that didn’t fork. The Angels lost that game and went back to Boston where they were outscored 18-5 in the next two games. The 1985 Angels found themselves in a familiar place – failing to become the champions they always wanted to be. And God found Herself in a familiar place – waiting.
But there is more to the story. The following year, Moore couldn’t regain his winning form. He was booed wildly whenever he pitched at home. Jim Hill, the sports writer in Los Angeles recalled a disquieting incident that summer when a man committed suicide by jumping from the upper deck at Anaheim stadium killing himself. Donnie Moore, in an interview with Hill, said half-jokingly, “He was my last fan.”
The Angels cut Moore after the ’88 season. He was released by the Kansas City farm team in ’89. In July of that year, in his Anaheim Hills home, with his children at home, Moore shot his wife with a .45 caliber handgun before killing himself.
The trouble with giants is that they measure success in personal endeavor and not a shared one. They live with the debilitating perspective that they carry the whole world on their shoulders – assuming all the glory while winning and all the blame when losing. So, inevitably when a hero fails, there is such a great distance between them and the other players – rarely is anyone close enough to catch them when they fall.
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There is another baseball story that points out the dangers of giants. This one from my own meager career.
In Little League I was a pitcher – one of the best in the league. By the time I’d reached the final game of my little league career, I had pitched four one-hitters. But never a no-hitter. My older brother had pitched several. I thought of him as a giant. The kind of player I wanted to be.
In my last little league game, I had a no-hitter going into the final inning – not one of those sloppy no hitters with a lot of errors. My team – who I didn’t always trust to make the sure outs, much less the hard ones – had played perfectly.
Going into the inning my team was ahead 3-0. I struck out the first batter. Then I walked one. I struck out the next batter, but then I struggled with control and walked the next two to load the bases. That brought up Jeff Gates, the best hitter on their team and one of the best in the league. In his previous two at bats he had hit hard shots to our shortstop, Roberto Gonzalez, who was not a particularly sure handed fielder – but today he had made all good plays. When Gates came to the plate, Roberto was cheering me on.
I got two strikes on Gates. Fastballs he fouled off. On 0-2 my catcher, Steve Middleton, was calling for a knuckleball – at that time my best pitch. I shook him off. I had a vision of rearing back and throwing the hardest fastball of my life right past Gates. Being the hero. Single-handedly winning the game.
Steve called for the knuckleball again. I shook him off. He even came to the mound and pleaded. I shook him off in person and sent him back behind the plate, shaking his head. I was determined to be the hero my way.
Steve put down one finger and I gripped the ball, reared back and threw the hardest pitch I had ever thrown – right down the middle. Gates hit it back twice as hard – right between my legs into center field. A clean hit. The end of my no-hitter.
I stood there, wishing the ball had just hit me in the forehead and ended my life. Meanwhile the other team was running around the bases. The centerfielder charged the ball, picked it up and threw home – getting the runner by five steps. We won the game 3-1. My fifth one-hitter.
But it didn’t matter. In my mind, everything was lost. Even though in the team’s mind, we’d won. The glory I wanted was personal. I refused the game ball when the manager presented it to me. Tears streamed down my face. I couldn’t look anyone in the eye. Or stop feeling sorry for myself.
Sometimes, the trouble with giants is they don’t understand what it means to be among champions. They’re focused on personal glory instead of shared success. Even where a team can overcome the challenge of playing with a giant – who doesn’t trust, who doesn’t listen and isn’t playing with the same objective – winning is rare and never often enough to fill the need of that giant. Teams like this are usually watched over by a God accustomed to waiting.
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When he said at the beginning of the service that ‘working together is impossible without trust,’ Lucas was exactly right. But sometimes it is the team that needs trust, not just the giant.
Six years ago, when Obama was running for president, I braced myself for failure. It’s true, I had fears he might lose. But I had more fears that he would win. I feared that all those who poured their energy into his election would pull back once he got elected. And become spectators hoping to watch their newfound giant to topple corporate greed and political ideologues single-handedly.
And I believe, now, he has failed for the two simple reasons why most giants fall. One is they overestimate their power and influence and overextend themselves. But the other is that the people around the giant underestimate their power and influence and reduce their participation. And rarely does one come without the other.
The tendency in October is to push a giant to the fore and then resent him for the remaining 11 months for failing to save us. But that old strategy is begging for a new solution.
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In 2002, the California Angels defeated Barry Bonds and the Giants to win the World Series. They won without any marquee players, or heroes. No Giants. They won because they realized winning comes from trusting each other and in their ability to play as a team.
Ironically, this year, the Angels were upset by the Royals – a team of no name, hard-working, blue-collar players who believed in themselves. And the Giants… the Giants are playing like angels, winning not through the extraordinariness of any one player but by how exciting it can be when everyone decides to play together. In fact, a friend recently noticed a sign at a Giants game which makes my point. It read, “Superman wears Hunter Pence underwear.”
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Perhaps the world is going to hell… and perhaps the hard-headedness and hard-heartedness of the world’s people is to blame. And perhaps God has waited a long time for us to covenant as a team and pull together like the bird and the mouse, the cat and the dog, the girl and the boy, the wife and the farmer who join in common cause until all the turnips turn up.
But I believe that God will continue to wait until we discover…
…The real goal is found in not electing a president, but in building a nation willing to work for peace instead of profit. It’s found not in a few people coming together to make soup, but in everyone coming together to end hunger. And here, in this community, it’s found not in working to call a minister to lead us, but becoming known – throughout the area and the denomination – as leaders who work together in calling forth love and justice.
I guarantee you that if THIS is the community, and WE are the people who make that happen, then God will be very proud to wear UUCB underwear. And it will be because each and every person here put on their big girl and big boy underoos – the ones with Angels and Giants playing together – who set aside their differences to make it happen.
And it will be because we came together to work not for personal glory.
But for the Glory of Life.
Copyright © 2014, Rev. Greg S. Ward. All Rights Reserved
