Choose to Be Different

Our series continues with the demand to Samuel to give them a king, to be like everybody else.  People are faith are meant to be different.

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Transcript

Sermons from Mission Hills UCC

San Diego, California

Rev. Dr. David Bahr

david.bahr@missionhillsucc.org

June 16, 2024

“Choose to Be Different”

 1st Samuel 8: 1-9 – Common English Bible

Now when Samuel got old, he appointed his sons to serve as Israel’s judges. 2 The name of his oldest son was Joel; the name of the second was Abijah. They served as judges in Beer-sheba. 3 But Samuel’s sons didn’t follow in his footsteps. They tried to turn a profit, they accepted bribes, and they perverted justice.

4 So all the Israelite elders got together and went to Samuel at Ramah. 5 They said to him, “Listen. You are old now, and your sons don’t follow in your footsteps. So appoint us a king to judge us like all the other nations have.” 6 It seemed very bad to Samuel when they said, “Give us a king to judge us,” so he prayed to the Lord.

7 The Lord answered Samuel, “Comply with the people’s request—everything they ask of you—because they haven’t rejected you. No, they’ve rejected me as king over them. 8 They are doing to you only what they’ve been doing to me[a] from the day I brought them out of Egypt to this very minute, abandoning me and worshipping other gods. 9 So comply with their request, but give them a clear warning, telling them how the king will rule over them.”

The first story in our series this summer started with Hannah and her decision to give her first born son to a priest named Eli.  Raising Samuel brought Eli tremendous joy because his own sons were, let’s just say, rotten.  One night, Eli realized that God was calling Samuel by his name.  Samuel didn’t understand and kept waking Eli up, so Eli told him the next time to say “Here I am.”  And he did.  And Samuel grew up and rose to prominence among all the other judges of the 12 tribes.  

Judges in ancient Israel DIDNT HAVE gavels OR WEAR black robes SITTING. perched high above. One example of a great judge was Deborah.  She had an office under a tree at a busy crossroad.  Judges offered advice and guidance and decided disputes among people, but they were also representatives of God, tasked with keeping people faithful to their covenantal responsibilities.  Unlike the Pharaohs under whom they had been enslaved for generations, this was a kind of  governing structure dispersed among the people – a kind of “power to the people” system.  Judges were respected authorities, socially and religiously, and often military leaders too.  

One story about Deborah, one day she told her army commander to gather up his troops and go into battle against Canaanites who had tormented them for 20 years.  Why now?  Because Deborah discerned this was the time to confront them.  However, her commander resisted, for good reason.  The Canaanites had 900 iron chariots.  Barak complained that with even 10,000 soldiers, they couldn’t win against such a super power.  He refused to go unless she met his one condition – that Deborah take his hand and go with him.  And that day, against all odds, they prevailed.

Years later, Samuel was a judge, a highly respected authority in the tradition of judges like Deborah.  But, like Eli, his sons were another story.  They were corrupt and the elders of Israel were so frustrated, they all got together and confronted Samuel.  Do something!  The something they thought he should do was to appoint a king to rule over them – “just like everybody else.”  The nations around them seemed wealthier, more powerful… We can have all that too.  Just give us a king.  

Samuel was crushed because he felt it was a judgment of his failure.  But God assured him that the people weren’t rejecting him.  They were rejecting God.  So, God said, “give ‘em what they want, but at least, first warn them about what they’re going to get.”   

11 “This is how a king will rule over you:  He will take your sons, and will use them for his chariots and his cavalry. 12 He will use them to do his plowing and his harvesting, or to make his weapons and parts for his chariots. 13 He will take your daughters and your best fields, vineyards, and olive groves and give them to his servants. 16 He will take your male and female servants, along with the best of your cattle and donkeys, and make them do his work. 17 He will take one-tenth of your flocks, and then you yourselves will become his slaves! 18 When that day comes, you will cry out because of the king you chose for yourselves, but on that day the Lord won’t answer you.”  19 But the people refused to listen to Samuel and said, “No! There must be a king over us 20 so we can be like all the other nations.”

I think this is such a fascinating description.  The kind of power people beg for until they are begging for relief from it.  And what a harsh response.  “Don’t come asking for my help.  You did this to yourself.”  How do we reconcile God would say such a thing?

Well, this wasn’t a story told by a reporter as it was happening.  It wasn’t even a warning, a cautionary tale:  and the moral of the story is, “Be careful what you wish for.”  No, this is a reflection on the question, “What in the world happened to us?”  You see, centuries later they are sitting around wondering what could have gone so wrong.  Here we are, carried off into exile by our enemies, weeping along the water’s edge in Babylon.  This story was written as the people look back on their history and searched for clues.  How can we explain this mess we’re in?  

They determined that all our problems started when we demanded to be like everybody else – when they demanded to have a king.  They were meant to be distinctive from all the other nations.  They were distinctive.  They were God’s people rescued from slavery.  They were to be God worshipers who took care of widows and orphans and welcomed strangers into their homes.  They had covenant responsibilities to have no other gods, to take a break once a week to worship, to honor father and mother, to not murder, cheat, or steal.  Not to even want what belonged to someone else.  That’s what it meant to be God’s people, not just like everyone else.  They were supposed to be different.

I would assert, churches are supposed to be different too.  People of faith are supposed to be different.  I’ve been giving this a lot of thought recently, asking, “What in the world happened to us?”  You see, year-end reports for the UCC just came out.  I proudly claim my status as a geek for church statistics so I jumped right in.  But let me warn you.  If you don’t like May Gray and June Gloom, you won’t like the next two minutes.  

More decline, the UCC now down to under 700,000 members.  683,000 to be exact, in 4,485 churches.  Twenty-five years ago, we had 1.4 million members in 6,000 churches.  That’s 700,000 fewer members but only 1,500 fewer churches.  That can be explained by the fact that half of our churches now have less than 37 worshipers on an average Sunday.  We are not alone in this.  The median for United Methodists is 38.  For Presbyterians, 35.  There’s a lot of tiny churches in every denomination, many trying to hang on as long as they can.  Here’s another shocking number:  Of our 4,500 churches, we are one of only 350 that have more than 100 people in worship on Sunday.  There are a few UCC megachurches – Trinity in Chicago has 6,000 members.  First Plymouth in Lincoln has 4,000 and keeps growing.

Twenty-five years ago, Plymouth Church in Seattle had 1,000 members.  Big church, prominent, active.  Today there are 360 members.  Still, not too bad, all things considered.  But their average worshiping congregation is 45, down from 500.  Their annual budget, however, is $2 million – thanks to healthy endowments.  And regardless of its size, it’s a healthy optimistic church.  Lots of things going on.

On the other hand, a prominent congregation in Colorado also had over 1,000 members, now 500, with an average worshiping congregation of 96, down from an average of 300.  But they are really struggling, weighed down by the loss of their status and identity, although they have a $1 million annual budget to work with.  They’re still stuck on “what in the world happened to us?”

Here are the last numbers I’ll share.  Last year 13,000 people joined a UCC church.  8,000 people died.  And total losses were 28,000.  84 churches closed.  Year after year this will call into question our very existence.

However, some congregations with 37 members are vital and alive, like my former church in Cleveland.  Long before me, Archwood UCC too had 1,000 members.  Thirty years ago, its projected life was another 2 years – enough money and people to last 2 more years.  But what was thought to be inevitable was reversed.  Most recently, they got creative and gave their building to a cultural arts center in exchange for free office and worship space.  They hire Sunday morning worship leaders and provide all the other services themselves.  This inner-city church is in a food desert so every other week they go to the main produce terminal in town and buy fresh fruits and vegetables to sell for 5 cents or a quarter and offer a free breakfast.  A vital group if there ever was one.  The good news is that even if denominations cease to exist, there will continue to be vital churches.  Amen?  But it’s a choice.

I read today’s scripture passage not as a call to wrestle with “what did we do wrong” but with the temptation to want to be like everybody else.  Churches and people of faith are meant to be distinctive – not to have distinction, an elevated status in society.  We are meant to be different.  In a world with a thousand ways to get involved in things like social justice or beach clean ups or community affairs, and with lots of places to be part of a community, whether a hiking group, a community choir, or a book club, we are uniquely meant to, first of all, be the people of God – even though we won’t all agree what God means or who God is.  No creeds around here.  Yet, it is still essential for our self-understanding to recognize that God called us into being.  We didn’t call God into being.  God called us.  

And secondly, that we are a Christian church, although some days, many days to be honest, we may be repulsed by the label Christian, given how it’s thrown around as a weapon.  The word Christian carries so much baggage, but it remains both our identity and calling, and our choice how to live it.  

Thank God there are lots of ways to make an impact upon the world for good, through groups focused on social justice and beach clean ups and community affairs, and thank God there are so many places where we can feel like part of a community, whether a hiking group, a community choir, or a book club.

But we’re not called to be like everybody else.  Worship keeps calling us into hard places, 

• to remember to speak of love amidst hate and division, 
• to remember to offer forgiveness when all we want is just a little bit of revenge, 
• to be willing even to be forgiven (that’s a hard one sometimes), 
• to see suffering, not look away,
• to see injustice and get involved,
• to remember to talk about hope with people who can’t see it, 
• to remember that when it might feel much more satisfying to stay bitter, to instead, over and over, choose compassion.  

Churches call us to persist in the love Jesus modeled through his life, to always choose love, even and especially when it’s hard.  That’s the choice.  Choose to be different.  To worship something greater than money, status, success, popularity; to worship something other than power.

Whether through churches or temples or mosques or any spiritual community, these are things we bring to the world that are unique – adding Spirit to Body and Mind. 

We can read statistics and ask “What in the world happened to us?”  Or we can ask, “OK, what now?  We all constantly face competing interests for our time and money and energy.  Don’t choose what everyone else is doing.  We’re called to be different.