Cosmology.  Cosmology is the study of the origin, evolution, and future of the cosmos.  Cosmologists are the ones involved in doing that studying.  And surprise!  They don’t all agree with each other.  Just like humans in any other field, they have their own starting points and their own approaches.

Some cosmologists speculate about multiple universes—a multiverse.  The idea about multiple universes, parallel universes, might still feel more like science fiction.  That’s no doubt due to the fact that it’s pretty hard to test it scientifically, at least, given our current level of understanding!

There might be many multiverses, maybe an infinite number of them.  There might be versions of us in other universes.  Our universe could be the size of an atom in a much larger universe.  And on the flip side, there could universes floating all around us at the subatomic level.  Some cosmologists suggest our universe could be a program in a computer—or a dream some being too vast for us to imagine is having right now!

What made me think about this business of multiple universes was something I read by Walter Brueggemann about our Old Testament reading in Jeremiah.  (I’ll be honest: I never thought that I would link the prophet Jeremiah with theories about a multiverse!)

Our scripture text is part of a longer passage that runs from verses 9 to 40.  Jeremiah is criticizing the false prophets who are leading the people astray.  According to Brueggemann, “Jeremiah lived [among] a variety of competing ‘truth claims,’ each of which purported to be a disclosure of Yahweh’s will.”[1]  They all have their ideas about what God wants and how the world works.

He continues, “In these verses [against the other prophets] he makes his clearest argument for his version of reality, and makes it against the ‘truth versions’ of others whom he dismisses as false.”[2]  Jeremiah makes his clearest argument for his version of reality, thus my sermon title.

In studying the universe, cosmologists must continually examine and refine their versions of reality—some of which prove to be more real than others.  Jeremiah and the prophets who oppose him also present their versions of reality.  The question is, “Which better reflects the word of the Lord?  Who actually has heard from God?  Who has paid attention to God?”

And to bring this to us, we also have our own versions of reality.  We need to constantly examine and refine our versions.

So let’s see what Jeremiah is up against.

Jeremiah is living at a time in which his country, Judah, is gradually feeling the fingers of Babylon get tighter and tighter around their throat.

Ever since he was called by God to be a prophet, Jeremiah has had an unpopular message.  It’s not one that he’s been eager to give.  Basically, this is his message: don’t think that you’ll escape the Babylonians.  You might tell each other that we’ll get out of this smelling like a rose, but your actions have you stinking to high heaven!

We could look at the political and military aspects of this, how tiny Judah is on the highway between Babylon and the juicy prize of Egypt, like roadkill, but that’s not Jeremiah’s concern.  He’s concerned about the idolatry, the injustice, the wickedness he sees all around.  He’s concerned about the arrogance of his people, the arrogance of the leadership.

That arrogance is based in a version of reality saying it is impossible for Judah to be conquered.  It’s especially impossible for Jerusalem, the capital, to be conquered.  It’s impossible because that is where the temple is located.  Forget about it.  The temple simply cannot be destroyed, because God won’t allow it.

In chapter 7, Jeremiah goes to the gate of the temple and preaches what’s known as the “temple sermon,” one of his most shocking and outrageous acts.  He boldly proclaims, “Do not trust in these deceptive words.”  What is it he calls “deceptive”?  It’s something that seemingly every faithful, loyal person would agree with: “This is the temple of the Lord” (v. 4).  That’s what he says is deceptive.

The Revised English Bible has even stronger language.  “This slogan of yours is a lie; put no trust in it.”

It’s not that Jeremiah disrespects the temple or doubts it is the house of the Lord.  What upsets him is the way people superstitiously believe no harm can come to them.  They do this while ignoring the wishes of the one they supposedly worship in the temple.

Brueggemann says, “Jeremiah, against the other prophets, announced the end of Judah’s ‘known world.’  The prophets who opposed him tried in various ways to soften the massive judgment he anticipated.  Despite their protestations, that world did end as Jeremiah had announced.”[3]

[And unlike R.E.M. in their song “It’s the End of the World as We Know It (And I Feel Fine)”[4] those prophets did not feel fine.]

A week ago at the University of Michigan Medical School, as part of the graduation festivities, they held what’s known as the White Coat Ceremony.  [sorry, my mistake, it is not part of graduation!]  The highlight is a speech given by a faculty member selected by students and peers.  This year it was Dr. Kristin Collier.[5]  Several students walked out due to her pro-life views.  The reporting in the news of the event mainly focused on the controversy but ignored her eloquent words of wit and wisdom.

She didn’t use the term, but Dr. Collier spoke of versions of reality.  A couple of times, she jokingly said maybe she should have gone to business school!  She celebrated the humanities—anthropology, sociology, philosophy, theology, and others—as helping us ask “the big questions,” as she put it, about life itself, with all the gratitude and grief it carries.

She emphasized the danger of treating ourselves and patients like machines.  Beware of “seeing your patients as just a bag of blood and bones or human life as just molecules in motion.”  Dr. Collier said, “You are not technicians taking care of complex machines, but human beings taking care of other human beings.”[6]

She referred to Aristotle’s vision of types of knowledge, one of which is techne.  We get our words “technical” and “technician” from it.  She noted, “Traditional medical education often doesn’t teach health as shalom but health as techne.”  I will admit, her using the word shalom took me by surprise.

(On a side note, I afterwards discovered she had become a Christian, baptized many years after her husband.)

Collier said medical education too often emphasizes the technical aspects, rather than recognizing the patient as a human being, with all that includes.

Technology is well and good and vitally important, but shalom is the all-expansive blessing of peace and well-being pervading creation.  To recognize and to treat each other with holiness—that’s quite a version of reality!

Today’s scripture is less about Jeremiah’s woes than it is about the way the prophets bless what God does not bless.  Think about it: these are people who represent God.  That’s a lot of authority that can be used in either a good way or a bad way.  In their own way, they emphasize the technology of prophecy severed from the shalom which is its heart.

Verse 30 shows us just one way in which they’re being dishonest.  “See, therefore, I am against the prophets, says the Lord, who steal my words from one another.”  They’re engaging in a sort of divine plagiarism.  They’re using their computers to copy and paste—and pretend they heard it straight from God!  (By the way, I will let you know if I’m quoting somebody, as I did with Kristin Collier!)

But this is about more than a violation of copyright.  More is going on here.  And it goes to the heart of what it means to hear from God—and to pay attention to God.  It deals with our version of reality, as well as our willingness to let it be scrutinized by others.

In saying the prophets steal words from each other, we might suspect they’re locked into one way of thinking.  The true word of the Lord is too challenging for them.  It takes their version of reality and just blows it wide open.  But that’s a good and wonderful thing.  We need our versions of reality to be blown wide open!

Do you know why?  I like my version of reality.  I’m comfortable with my version of reality; I don’t want anyone messing with it!  There is within me the temptation to go with inertia, to go with the flow.  It feels safe and easy.

At the same time, I know the Lord loves me too much—the Lord loves all of us too much—to leave us where we are.  The question is asked, “Is not my word like fire…and like a hammer that breaks a rock in pieces?” (v. 29).  Let the fire burn away the impurities; let the hammer chisel away the rough edges.

How does the word blow our version of reality wide open?  It certainly helps when we allow the Spirit the freedom to use the word in our lives.  There’s no better way to break out of a narrow-minded, marching-in-lockstep approach.  We need the Spirit to empower the word to lead us from our comfort zone (being safe and certain) and lead us into a new version of reality (being courageous and questioning).

In Luke 12 someone comes to Jesus, wanting to triangulate him into a family spat over inheritance.  Jesus presents a different version of reality.  Are we possessed by our possessions?  Do not lose yourself, do not lose your way, over something empty and useless.

Jesus pushes us to ask questions.  We can’t grow without them.  Be careful, there are forces that would constrain us, narrow our focus, tell us lies.  Some of them choose us, and there are others we choose.  Let’s keep our versions of reality open.

Is not my word like fire?  Is not my word like a hammer that breaks a rock in pieces?

[1] Walter Brueggemann, A Commentary on Jeremiah (Grand Rapids:  Eerdmans, 1998), 208.

[2] Brueggemann, 208.

[3] Brueggemann, 209.

[4] www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z0GFRcFm-aY

[5] www.youtube.com/watch?v=JE5wAvhr87w  (her speech begins at the 1:46 mark)

[6] www.commonsense.news/p/the-message-americas-future-doctors

Any of you who have attended, or participated in, a service of ordination may recall what happens at the end.  Those being ordained as ministers are given a charge, something reminding them and encouraging them regarding the duties of the office to which they have been ordained.  The Presbyterian liturgy also has a charge to those we ordain as elders and deacons.

Banu and I were ordained as ministers in February 1997 at Overbrook Presbyterian in Philadelphia.  Banu’s pastor gave her this instruction: “I charge you to fail.”  (I don’t believe he was expressing ill wishes, just telling her to take bold risks!  That’s advice that I also desperately need to take heed of.)

[image is from christophermpark.com]

My pastor gave me this charge at the end of the service: “Tell your story of being in a distant land.”  Using that image from the parable of the prodigal son, he was talking about several things.

At the time, I wore a bandana on my head; it covered a rather visible surgical scar.  It was a mute witness to my experience of brain cancer.  (At a party, I removed my bandana to reveal the scar.  A couple of people looked like they were about to turn green!)

At the time of our ordination service, I had been on a journey of almost a year and a half.  That journey included the initial seizure, diagnosis, surgery, radiation therapy, another seizure, another surgery, then seven cycles of chemotherapy.

Along the way, there were plenty of CAT and MRI scans, a port temporarily implanted in my chest for antibiotics, needles and more needles, and being put on prescription meds that I was told I would need to take for the rest of my life.  Oh, did I happen to mention…needles?  To my pastor, that constituted “being in a distant land.”

He was also referring to the spiritual journey I had taken, at least, the parts of it he knew.  Coming from an Assemblies of God church in Tennessee to an American Baptist seminary in Philadelphia to the PC(USA) church across the street—and knowing that I had worshipped and worked with Christians of many different stripes besides that—that also constituted “being in a distant land.”

He understood the power of story to reach people in a way that explanations cannot.

I must confess, though, I have tended to discount my pastor’s charge to me.  I’ve included parts of my story from time to time, but probably not in the deliberate way he intended.  I’ve also been disobedient in a less obvious way, even when I have spoken of my experiences.  I have focused too often and too much on the purely medical aspects of my continued health.  Too often I have failed to properly acknowledge the work of God in my healing.  To put it bluntly, I have failed to give God the glory!

(Maybe my coming clean will encourage others who feel like failures to do the same!)

I begin with this little story because it came to mind when I read our gospel text.  It’s the last verse from our passage in Luke 12 that especially did it.  “So it is with those who store up treasures for themselves but are not rich toward God” (v. 21).  Does a failure to give credit (no, to joyously give credit) where credit is due qualify as, so to speak, storing up treasure for oneself?  Honestly, I’m not sure; I’ll have to get back to you on that!

As we’ll see, the main focus of this scripture text relates to possessions, but not being rich toward God suggests other things to me—intangible possessions and treasures.

It would seem that’s what Jesus has in mind, too.  He takes an example that is definitely about tangible and visible possessions, a family inheritance, and moves on to something deeper and less obvious.  For the people in Luke’s story, we could also add that it seems to be unexpected!  Today’s passage begins with a request coming from the crowd gathered around Jesus, and it ends with a parable often called “the rich fool.”

In verse 13 we read, “Someone in the crowd said to him, ‘Teacher, tell my brother to divide the family inheritance with me.’”  We don’t really know what the situation is.  Skullduggery may or may not be at work.  There’s nothing like money and property to bring kindred together!

Whatever the case, somebody wants Jesus to play the role of Judge Judy.  (I should say:  the Bible is silent on any sarcastic lines he might have uttered!)

Jesus is having none of it.  “Friend,” he replies, “who set me to be a judge or arbitrator over you?” (v. 14).  I won’t be dragged into your domestic squabble.

Let me throw in a quick sidebar.  We can also see how Jesus avoids being triangulated.  Here’s what I mean.  The fellow has a beef with his brother.  A and B.  He wants Jesus to be his ally.  A wants C to take sides against B.  Jesus is aware of this dynamic and does not participate in it.  Triangulating, or triangling, happens all the time in life.  It can be healthy or unhealthy.  Jesus recognizes the unhealthy nature and does not intervene.

This is where he takes the situation and, as I said, moves on to something deeper and less obvious.  He gets to the heart of the matter, saying, “Take care!  Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of possessions” (v. 15).  Again, we don’t if there’s anything fishy going on, but that’s not the point Jesus wants to make.

“Miser” (1926) by Margret Hofheinz-Döring, 1910-1994

 He’s warning against “all kinds of greed.”  As we’ve seen, that could apply to anything.  We are a culture that needs to re-learn the value of “enough.”

Maybe I’m the only one who notices this.  It is a rare event when I go to a buffet restaurant and do not see this.  It seems without fail there will be someone who loads up a dish to the point of the food being ready to fall over.  Some places that used to advertise “all you can eat,” have rephrased it to “all that you care to eat,” or even “please do not take more than you will eat.”  I don’t think anyone there is in danger of starvation!  Besides, you can always go back for seconds.

Jesus adds to the warning about greed, “one’s life does not consist in the abundance of possessions.”  Having said that, I realize there are those who live by the motto, “He who dies with the most toys wins.”  It doesn’t seem that Jesus subscribes to that philosophy.

On that note, Jesus launches into the parable of the rich fool.  This a guy who strikes it big.  He has an abundance of grain and goods.  He has more than what he knows to do with.  Our friend is like some actors and athletes who pull in multi-millions of dollars per year.  They have more money than they could reasonably spend in two or three lifetimes—maybe more!

What does our wealthy friend do?  He decides, “I will pull down my barns and build larger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods.  And I will say to my soul, Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry” (vv. 18-19).  His physical needs will be well taken care of—or at least, that’s the plan.  In Aesop’s fable, he is the hare, not the tortoise.

Walter Bowie notes, “But the supreme loss is not in what may happen prematurely to the body.  The loss is what happens to the man’s whole self.  He thinks he has plenty of time to find out who he is and what his life is for.  He will stop and give attention to all that after a while.  But it is not only in the parable that the unexpected bell may toll.”[1]

I’m reminded of a line from the 90s movie The Basketball Diaries.  It stars Leonardo DiCaprio as real-life musician Jim Carroll, who also played Catholic high school basketball.  However, his talent is being wasted, due to his use of heroin.  One day in class, he falls asleep and is enjoying a drug-induced dream.  His teacher, a cane-wielding priest, gives him a rude awakening.  Smacking his desk, he shouts, “Wake up, Mr. Carroll, it’s later than you think!”

Wake up; it’s later than you think.  Now that’s a sobering thought.

And it’s one delivered to our friend in the parable.  God reminds him, “You fool!  This very night your life is being demanded of you.  And the things you have prepared, whose will they be?” (v. 20).  So now, we come back full circle to the thought of storing up treasures for ourselves but not being rich toward God.

This business of it being later than we think, of getting our house in order—that is no doubt some seriously important stuff.

Speaking for myself, I sometimes have a sense of foreboding in all of that.  Maybe I haven’t lived life the way I could or should have.  Perhaps I’ve been stingy in sharing God’s work, God’s provision, God’s healing in my life.  Maybe in doing that (or in not doing that, as the case may be), I have been greedy like our friend in the parable, the rich fool.

But this is the gospel, the good news that Luke brings us.  Where is the word of grace?  How is this the word of love?

The Franciscan priest Richard Rohr mentions a charge he received at ordination.[2]  He puts it in the context of perfection, something we attempt to provide by ourselves.  It “gives the impression that by effort I can achieve wholeness separate from God, from anyone else…

“On the day of my first vows in 1962,” he says, “the preacher glared at us earnest and innocent novices and quoted the line, ‘Thou shalt be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect!’ (Matthew 5:48).  Most of the honest guys left within the first few years of seminary when they could not achieve this supposed perfection.  That’s sad because I think a lot of them would have been really good friars and priests, precisely because they were so human, humble, and honest.”

Those guys were already set up for failure.  The charge from that preacher was not uttered in wisdom and love!

Rohr continues, “Many people give up on the spiritual life or religion when they see they cannot be perfect.  They end up [as] practical agnostics or atheists, because they refuse to be hypocrites.  It is quite unfortunate that [this] ideal of perfection has been applied to human beings…  It has created people who, lacking compassion, have made impossible demands on themselves and others, resulting in a tendency toward superiority, impatience, dismissiveness, and negative thinking.”

It doesn’t have to be that way.  Those who can see actually realize it isn’t that way.  And that is the good news.  That is the gospel of Jesus Christ.

We need not be afraid to share, to unfasten ourselves, to empty our hands.  By not piling up riches for ourselves, we open ourselves to being amazed and surprised by God.  We unleash the power of the Spirit within our lives, and together, we unleash the power of the Spirit in community.

We approach with empty hands so that they might be filled.  We yield the treasures we store up so that we might be rich toward God.

[1] Walter Russell Bowie, The Compassionate Christ (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1965), 175.

[2] cac.org/perfection-self-defeating-path-2016-07-20