Memorial Music Sunday, November 3, 2024
First Congregational Church of Cheshire
© the Rev. Dr. James Campbell
Not long ago someone at church described me as a “Midwesterner.” I was amused by this description, since I’ve lived on the east coast for more than half of my life. But this person was not wrong. I may not have lived in the Midwest for decades, but that place with its agricultural roots formed me and continues to influence the way I think and see the world.
I hadn’t been to the Midwest in a long time, until a few weeks ago. My parents have recently relocated from Florida back to Indiana, and I hadn’t seen them since they moved. And so, I made the long trek back to the town where I went to high school. On a sunny morning, I drove out of Connecticut, into New York, across Pennsylvania, traversed Ohio, and finally arrived in Indiana. The further west I drove, the flatter the land became, dotted, as it was with beautiful farms – red barns, white houses, and a view that seemed to stretch to the horizon.
As a kid, I never appreciated that vista. But at this stage of my life, I see those farms and that great flat plain in a new light. And there were moments on that road trip when I literally shouted for joy at the sheer beauty of it all.
I, myself, never lived on a farm, but my life was shaped by farm culture. Cheshire has its own deep connection to farming. And the Bible has a universal connection to the land because our holy book comes out of a farming culture and economy. Just listen to the parables of Jesus about the sower scattering seed, the lost sheep, the mustard seed, the fig tree.
That farm connection is even found in the today’s passage from the mysterious book of Revelation. During the Litany of Remembrance, you heard these words: “Then one of the elders addressed me, saying, "Who are these, robed in white, and where have they come from?" I said to him, "Sir, you are the one that knows." Then he said to me, "These are they who have come out of the great tribulation; they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.”[1]
The word tribulation is taken from the Latin word “tribulum.” And a tribulum was a farm instrument used for beating the stems and husks of wheat. With the tribulum, the farmer would thresh the wheat stalks, in order to extract the precious kernel of wheat, separating it from the straw. So, when John the Revelator referred to the people’s current suffering as the Great Tribulation, the Great Tribulum, it was a powerful image that everyone would have understood, beaten down as they were.
So, just who were these suffering people? They were the Christians of Asia Minor, located in modern day Turkey. And they were suffering a great persecution because, like all early Christians, when they proclaimed that Jesus of Nazareth was Lord, it meant that the Roman Emperor was not. This, of course, was blasphemy and sedition. And for these crimes, some of these early Christ-followers had been martyred. Others, fearing a similar fate, had defected. The foundations of the early church were shaken. It was a very bad time, indeed. And let me add that while we Americans are not persecuted for our faith, we still must like Christians in every age, between the way of the humble Christ or the way of haughty Empire.
So, John had a vision about how all human things end. And with the strange and poetic language of apocalyptic literature, he encouraged the people to be faithful. He told them that these hard times would not last forever. He reminded them that God is faithful. And he promised them that one day the Great Tribulation would be over and their reward would be to dwell with God forever.
What wonderful promises… but hard to believe on the threshing floor of life. It’s hard to be hopeful when your job disappears. Or your love abandons. Or storms wash your dreams away. Or your nation teeters. Or your health fails. Or those you love die. And we are beaten down, like so many stalks of wheat.
But that’s the thing about the threshing floor. It doesn’t just contain the husks and the straw. Scattered all around are also the kernels of wheat. And in each kernel, in each seed, there is the potential for new and resurrected life.
St. Paul, using that seed analogy, put it like this in his first letter to the church at Corinth: “So it is with the resurrection of the dead. What is sown is perishable, what is raised is imperishable. It is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory. It is sown in weakness, it is raised in power.”[2]
This is the cornerstone of our faith: Resurrection, new life, new hope, new beginnings. We need to hear that again and again, because we are so often beaten down. And that is precisely why this day, full of beautiful music and hopeful promises, is so important. That is why what we do in this room week after week is so important. That is why your own lives of prayer and service are so important. These things reorient us. They remind us of what we know or at least hope, but so easily forget.
This week will likely be full of threshing. No matter the outcome of the election, our nation is dangerously divided. We are angry and resentful and suspicious and afraid. We have gotten used to living on the threshing floor.
But today, we gather to remember what is true. Today, we gather, as sign and symbol of what we actually are: one people, one human family. Today, we gather to proclaim Resurrection, even as we mourn those who have died. Today, we lift our voices to sing with the angels: “Peace on earth, good will to all.” Today, we come to Christ’s Table, where all are equal and all are valued. And today, we give ourselves once more to One who has promised us that the threshing floor is not our final destination. We were made for something more: imperishable, full of glory and power.
Thanks be to God.
[1] Revelation 7:13-14
[2] I Corinthians 15:42-43
First Congregational Church of Cheshire
© the Rev. Dr. James Campbell
Not long ago someone at church described me as a “Midwesterner.” I was amused by this description, since I’ve lived on the east coast for more than half of my life. But this person was not wrong. I may not have lived in the Midwest for decades, but that place with its agricultural roots formed me and continues to influence the way I think and see the world.
I hadn’t been to the Midwest in a long time, until a few weeks ago. My parents have recently relocated from Florida back to Indiana, and I hadn’t seen them since they moved. And so, I made the long trek back to the town where I went to high school. On a sunny morning, I drove out of Connecticut, into New York, across Pennsylvania, traversed Ohio, and finally arrived in Indiana. The further west I drove, the flatter the land became, dotted, as it was with beautiful farms – red barns, white houses, and a view that seemed to stretch to the horizon.
As a kid, I never appreciated that vista. But at this stage of my life, I see those farms and that great flat plain in a new light. And there were moments on that road trip when I literally shouted for joy at the sheer beauty of it all.
I, myself, never lived on a farm, but my life was shaped by farm culture. Cheshire has its own deep connection to farming. And the Bible has a universal connection to the land because our holy book comes out of a farming culture and economy. Just listen to the parables of Jesus about the sower scattering seed, the lost sheep, the mustard seed, the fig tree.
That farm connection is even found in the today’s passage from the mysterious book of Revelation. During the Litany of Remembrance, you heard these words: “Then one of the elders addressed me, saying, "Who are these, robed in white, and where have they come from?" I said to him, "Sir, you are the one that knows." Then he said to me, "These are they who have come out of the great tribulation; they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.”[1]
The word tribulation is taken from the Latin word “tribulum.” And a tribulum was a farm instrument used for beating the stems and husks of wheat. With the tribulum, the farmer would thresh the wheat stalks, in order to extract the precious kernel of wheat, separating it from the straw. So, when John the Revelator referred to the people’s current suffering as the Great Tribulation, the Great Tribulum, it was a powerful image that everyone would have understood, beaten down as they were.
So, just who were these suffering people? They were the Christians of Asia Minor, located in modern day Turkey. And they were suffering a great persecution because, like all early Christians, when they proclaimed that Jesus of Nazareth was Lord, it meant that the Roman Emperor was not. This, of course, was blasphemy and sedition. And for these crimes, some of these early Christ-followers had been martyred. Others, fearing a similar fate, had defected. The foundations of the early church were shaken. It was a very bad time, indeed. And let me add that while we Americans are not persecuted for our faith, we still must like Christians in every age, between the way of the humble Christ or the way of haughty Empire.
So, John had a vision about how all human things end. And with the strange and poetic language of apocalyptic literature, he encouraged the people to be faithful. He told them that these hard times would not last forever. He reminded them that God is faithful. And he promised them that one day the Great Tribulation would be over and their reward would be to dwell with God forever.
What wonderful promises… but hard to believe on the threshing floor of life. It’s hard to be hopeful when your job disappears. Or your love abandons. Or storms wash your dreams away. Or your nation teeters. Or your health fails. Or those you love die. And we are beaten down, like so many stalks of wheat.
But that’s the thing about the threshing floor. It doesn’t just contain the husks and the straw. Scattered all around are also the kernels of wheat. And in each kernel, in each seed, there is the potential for new and resurrected life.
St. Paul, using that seed analogy, put it like this in his first letter to the church at Corinth: “So it is with the resurrection of the dead. What is sown is perishable, what is raised is imperishable. It is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory. It is sown in weakness, it is raised in power.”[2]
This is the cornerstone of our faith: Resurrection, new life, new hope, new beginnings. We need to hear that again and again, because we are so often beaten down. And that is precisely why this day, full of beautiful music and hopeful promises, is so important. That is why what we do in this room week after week is so important. That is why your own lives of prayer and service are so important. These things reorient us. They remind us of what we know or at least hope, but so easily forget.
This week will likely be full of threshing. No matter the outcome of the election, our nation is dangerously divided. We are angry and resentful and suspicious and afraid. We have gotten used to living on the threshing floor.
But today, we gather to remember what is true. Today, we gather, as sign and symbol of what we actually are: one people, one human family. Today, we gather to proclaim Resurrection, even as we mourn those who have died. Today, we lift our voices to sing with the angels: “Peace on earth, good will to all.” Today, we come to Christ’s Table, where all are equal and all are valued. And today, we give ourselves once more to One who has promised us that the threshing floor is not our final destination. We were made for something more: imperishable, full of glory and power.
Thanks be to God.
[1] Revelation 7:13-14
[2] I Corinthians 15:42-43
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