Message: Turning Right to Turn Left
“Turn right to turn left.”
This might be the last quote I take from the book, Outside the Lines, which I have been sharing with you over the last three sermons. The author, Mihee Kim-Kort is a lot like me – and of course, a lot different from me too. The book cover introduces her like this: “Mihee Kim-Kort is a wife, a mom, and a Presbyterian minister.” And it adds immediately (in an interesting and cathartic punch) “And she’s a queer.” Sometimes I wonder if it is okay or even safe to write in the sermon, which will be copied and shared around, about me, such a sentence as, “And she’s a queer.” But ponder with me: Why would you be a preacher if you have some things you can say and other things you cannot say? Sermon writing is like creating your own project -something you’ve longed to share for many years. Those strong urges, those strong gut desires to write and share must surge – if not, why would you, why would I, want to become a preacher in the first place? “Ich bin du, wenn ich ich bin; I am you, when I am I.” “내가 나일 때, 나는 너이다.” Paul Celan (Paul Celan was a Romanian-born German-language poet - one of the major poets of the post-World War Two era.) A sermon is, and always should be, the work of a reflector who can be themselves (“I am I”) and seek a place for themselves in the heart of the holy other.
Kim-Kort writes, “The first woman I saw preach in a pulpit was Nancy Lammers-Gross, a homiletics professor. It was during the opening convocation of my first semester in seminary. I was in awe of how comfortable she was in her robe up there in that massive pulpit, as if that pulpit were made just for her, as if she had spent all her life there. She had the entire chapel like putty in the palm of her hand. Everyone laughed riotously at the familiar angst in encountering New Jersey roads for the first time when she exclaimed indignantly, “You have to turn right to turn left!” (The way to make a standard left turn off route 1 is to turn right onto something called a jug handle, which is a ramp on the right-hand side of the road.) Hardly a dry eye was found at the end as she spoke effortlessly of God’s grace in this baffling journey we were beginning in seminary. I thought, looking at her through grateful tears, God willing, I am going to do that and be that some day.” The quote ends here.
“Turn right to turn left.”
This statement, as soon as I read it, stuck with me for a long time. To turn right to turn left. I began to ponder it in the reflection of my life and also in the stories in the Bible.
How many stories, or which stories, can you think of that teach us that God’s grace is queer, (rather than straight) leading us to the promise through a jug-handle maneuver in which to turn left you have to turn right first? I’m going to repeat the question - how many stories, or which stories, can you think of that teach us that God’s grace is queer, (rather than straight) leading us to the promise through a jug-handle maneuver in which to turn left you have to turn right first?
For me, I have a few stories in my life. One major jug-handle turn for me was that I chose marriage first, rather than career, which was the complete opposite of what most of my peers would choose in their twenties. In the patriarchal society and church, especially as it exists in Korea, having a baby without the security of a job is a big leap of faith. It would be comparable to choosing to wander in the desert like the Hebrews, socially and psychologically. This was turning right to me which eventually led me to turning left -- coming to Canada and starting in the path of ordination --. Since then, of course, there were many more right turns to reach many other surprising left turns.
I
chose today’s Bible story because it shares with us an example of how God’s
grace sometimes works in a jug-handle fashion: mysteriously. And yet there’s
God’s promise. Perhaps faith is the journey through which we slowly and
reverently begin to learn that the very queer jug-handle course (turning right
is to turn left) is the way that God’s promise and providence often works.
As
you listen to the story, I would like to add some framework: please note that I
am not saying that being barren is a sign of God’s lack of grace and blessings for
our lives. I acknowledge that having or not having a child is each individual’s
choice and it should be respected. I also acknowledge that infertility can
create a painful journey for couples even though many of them are still able to
create a beautiful journey of loving companionship with each other.
Now, in today’s story, Abraham and Sarah were childless. In ancient Israel, human predicaments were often illustrated and represented by the situation of being barren. In the story, in the middle of the night, Abraham and Sarah were called out in a vision in which God assured them, “Fear not. Do not be afraid, I am your shield; your reward shall be very great.” However, this is a situation where the promise God already made to them – Sarah and Abraham will come out of their barrenness – was delayed, which only instilled doubt in the agonizing hearts of the aging couple. Many years ago, the couple’s pilgrimage of hope had begun on no other basis than the promise of God - but they haven’t seen anything that is suggestive of the promise being fulfilled.
Does having faith mean that those who believe the promise, and hope against barrenness, must live with the barrenness, no matter what? Does having faith mean that one continues to trust solely in the promise even if the evidence against the promise is building every day? In today’s story, Abraham protests. This time, he stands face to face with God and seeks to refute the promise and resist the assurance. Who would be naively content with any false hope when the words of God have borne no fruit? Abraham says, “You have given me no offspring, and so a slave born in my house is to be my heir.” Abraham will not be a passive recipient of the long held, long-delayed promise. Never. Abraham draws the line. Interestingly, the God who planted the tree of life and sternly warned Adam and Eve that no one should pick any fruit from this tree is the same God in today’s story who invites and permits and will not coerce or turn away.
Abraham and God stand face to face, emitting an intense and obstinate tension that fills the air between the dark earth and the quiet, still night sky. Then, … God brings Abraham outside and says to him, “Look towards heaven and count the stars, if you are able to count them.” How could it be that the multitude of stars is a promise of a child? However, turning his eyes to the night sky and turning them again, then, to himself, then again to the night sky, then to himself, Abraham finally discerns God’s jug-handle vision. The night sky, filled with light, becomes the revelation: God calls him and Sarah not just to live against barrenness but to live as creatures of hope in a situation of hopelessness. Trust alone will not cause fulfillment right away, but those who hope, those who trust and take risks according to what is promised, will be given the gift – the understanding of God’s grace -how it works, how we experience it. Turning his eyes from the ground to look up towards the sky, in this moment of darkness, which is also mysteriously and passionately bright as well, a certitude is given to Abraham.
Abraham
sees the whole world – both in the light and in the lack of it – and realizes
that the entire universe is the work of God’s watchful care. As the Psalm
sings, “WHEN I LOOK AT THE HEAVENS, THE MOON AND THE STARS” (Psalm 8), it
becomes a frank, strange disclosure of God’s song to humanity… all those who
believe they are in hopeless situations. If the stars and the heavens are
awe-filled, how much more concern does God have for the future of this family?
The same God who makes stars beyond number can also make … generally, and
entirely… anything, in astounding wonder, coming from the goodness, the
gladness of God. Then, the result is that (in verse 6) Abraham BELIEVED. He
believes in a genuine genesis because God is God… Turning right may mean
different things: an absurd decision, a mistake, risk, reckless adventure,
random kindness, falling, failure, and fear. Turning right, we may feel we are
rerouting, rejected, delayed, wandering, getting lost, getting stuck at an
impassable crossroad. Imagine with me travelling inside the handle of a real
jug – the dark, small, narrow and looping course -- . The gift given to we
pilgrims of hope is to know that we are still journeying in God’s promise.
Turning right is the way to turn left, if we are able to turn our eyes and look
towards the night sky when called to count the stars. In those moments, even in
the high point where you are not actually turning right nor turning left, the
top of the jug handle as the very anxious plateau – if you have faith, you can
be you, God can be God. You will never die. You live. And you will turn left.
You will own your story. You are You, and God is God. And you find yourself in
God’s rich care. “Ich bin du, wenn ich ich bin; I am you, when I am I.” Alpha
and Omega, to turn right is to turn left – then, all pilgrims of hope will
share the first of God’s greeting to Abraham in Genesis, “Fear not,” and will
look towards heaven and count the stars. Turn right to turn left. Trust in the
faithful course of God’s grace.
Marcus Mosely - Don't Let Nobody Drag Your Spirit Down
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