Amos 7:7-17
It has seemed to me that this week’s overall theme has been the power of the Laity. I recognize that this theme is something that is to be emphasized all the time, but this particular week has made this visibly apparent in several points.
The past couple of weeks I’ve seen from my new corner office, the coming-and-going of all the ministers of Christ Church. From Richard our organist-choirmaster tirelessly ‘gearing-up’ for our choir’s trip to England in only a couple weeks; to the ceaseless energy of Missy Harrison, our Director of Children’s ministry who has been cruising all corners of our parish in search of curricula and teachers in anticipation of rally Sunday on September 9, as well as Molly, Rena, Irene, and Cathy doing their ministries in the Church office…. And that’s just the paid ministers of Christ Church. Day-in and day-out I watch as a virtual parade of ministers travel back and forth across the ‘bridge’ at the parish house. From Rummage sorters to meals at home, to our own parishioners bringing meals to the tired, the sick, and the homebound. And I see prayer groups arrive and depart, altar guild members polishing, ironing and re-filling all for the glory of God. With the kindly sound of your feet coming and going, and the welcoming returns across the bridge and the sounds of ringing phones saying ‘Yes I can help’, my ears and eyes burned on Wednesday when I read a New York Times article recalling Pope Benedict’s divisive and reactionary statements that set-back ecumenical ministries, recalled the advances of Vatican Two, and highlighted the ‘defects’ of Christian faiths other than Roman Catholicism. We look around at our own Anglican Communion where the ordained ministers are doing all they can to promulgate division rather than fostering the bonds of affection and mutual endeavors of hands on ministry. If only we with the black shirts and funny clothes would pay more attention to you all….
Last week, Jeanne spoke to us about the complexities associated with the simplicity of our Commandment to love and to listen; and similar themes arise in our lessons appointed for today, all of which put the ordained clergy in the ‘hotseat’ and extol the virtues of lay ministers.
Certainly our Gospel lesson strips-away all castes and titles, and transgresses the priestly and sacerdotal boundaries for the sake of one lay minister, serving and caring for a person in need. Rather than balking at cultural norms and mores, the Good Samaritan risks money, time, and face to help this stranger… and almost as if he heard Jesus’ summary of the Great Commandments, the Samaritan ‘went and did likewise’ demonstrating the complexity of the great Simplicity of our faith in Jesus Christ.
And then there’s Amos.
I think so very often we develop images of prophets that tend to disgust before their words ever become palatable. But what I like about Amos is that he is a regular lay-person, just like you.
At a time when prophets were seen as religious muckey-mucks living in the purses of Kings and rulers, Amos was different; he was a herdsman, and a dresser of Sycamore trees. But don’t think that he was a simple shepherd living in the pastures of Judah, no. The narrator of the Book of Amos makes very clear that Amos was more like a cattle baron, a highly skilled professional and wealthy man. The narrator also notes that Amos come from an outlying town of Takoah, essentially a wealthy suburb of Jerusalem.
This wealthy man from the suburbs of Jerusalem hears the voice of God. While most of us assume that the voice of God is one of angels, cherubs, and trumpets—Amos (whose name means to carry a burden) hears the voice of God like a roaring lion. For a man whose livelihood depended on a complete lack of lions, to hear the voice of our God like a roaring lion is none to pleasing. God calls Amos, and places on him the burden of prophecy; God roars to Amos to travel north to challenge the King of Israel commanding justice and mercy to the people of Israel—the northern nation of the divided land of Abraham’s children.
Amos, affluent, wealthy, established, and worldly—walks toward the roaring lion, and calls into account the transgressing King Jeroboam, setting a simple plumbline in the midst of the erring people of Israel.
So I ask you: Where are you hearing lions? Perhaps we clergy folk ought to follow the examples of the Samaritans and Amoses out there; perhaps we should take more time to walk toward those frightening sounds of the Gospel’s simplicity and spend less time contemplating doctrine and focusing on priestly functions.
Our opening prayer teaches us the two-fold purpose of prayer—to give us discerning hearts to know where God’s roaring is coming from, and to give us strength to accomplish those things. May Jesus Christ, ever our guide, give you the strength of Amos to Go and do likewise. And may we clergy-from the lowliest of curates on up to the Archbishops and the Popes, ever have the strength and humility to see that you have gone and done likewise.
