by Fred G. Garry - August 13, 2000
Texts: 2 Samuel 18:5-9, 33 - Ephesians 4:25-5:2 Ralph Waldo Emerson said, "Nature
is no sentimentalist, she does not cosset or pamper us. Right
now, In the greater part of the western United States, forest
fires are consuming the land. Huge sweeping fires are laying
to waste pristine forests. Although the charred remains are certainly
not as attractive as the pristine forests they laid waste, we
are witnessing an ancient rhythm, a kind self-imposed order.
From time to time, the forests bum; they are reduced by the pendulum
of order and chaos; they are leveled by flames and high winds.
We can hopefully forestall such moments so to enjoy the beauty
a while longer, or gain a sense of control, however imagined
it may be. Yet the fires have come and will leave only a remnant
of what as.
In New Mexico the fires are not only
part of an ancient rhythm, life emerging from chaos, but the
fires are literally uncovering ancient civilizations. Long hid
by the thick canopy of forest, ruins of cities and peoples are
being found after their covering has been removed by fire. Some
of the structures being found are up to three to four feet high
in terms of remnant. I was asked recently if this was good. "Good,"
I said, "its a bonanza." Not only do the archeologists
know where to dig, one of the greatest challenges, but also they
have a structure already in tact. This is a great find, an amazing
discovery. And there are literally hundreds of them.
An amazing discovery born of fire and
chaos. If I were to describe the story of Absalom and the destruction
he wrought on his father's kingdom I would chose this title.
The story of Absalom is the story of how the fires of chaos can
come and consume us, sweeping away all semblance of order, all
the trappings we had acquired. Absalom killed his brother who
raped his sister, he lived in hiding for three years, returning
as forgiven yet instigating a coup d'etat in Hebron and then
Jerusalem. He usurped the throne causing David to flee for the
hills. This is not the most remembered or told story of David
and his kingdom, yet I believe it is the greatest. For sometimes,
the worst of life can bring out the best in us.
Absalom was a fire that swept through
Israel. To truly appreciate the heat you have to put yourself
in David's position. One morning you wake up and everything is
fine. You're the king of a kingdom; life if moving along; and
Israel is at one of its zenith points in terms of conquests and
peace. Then you are given word: your son Absalom has declared
himself king, gathered forces and is marching on Jerusalem to
take your throne and your life. Thousands of people are following
Absalom, his popularity and charisma has ignited the people.
In short order civil war has ensued. And David fled to the hills
with Absalom taking the palace, the concubines, and his father's
tide. In other words, in one day David lost everything he had.
Absalom was a fire that consumed his
father and his life, leaving him destitute. Life can bring these
moments. You don't have to be the king of ancient Israel to have
your life whisked away. This is the reason why the ancients put
ashes on their head when they mourned. For the winds of fate
can bum like a forest fire, consuming all, rendering us to ashes.
In a heartbeat David's life was consumed by Absalom's fire, the
chaos he created charred his kingdom.
William Faulkner wrote a book entitled
Absalom, Absalom! I was disappointed that he never mentioned
David and his son directly in the novel itself. I had hoped that
at some point one of his characters would have reflected upon
Jeremiah's story for I have come to value his assessment of life's
predicaments. Instead was a story of the Stupen family, of revenge
and ambition, of falsehood and deceit. He wrote of a family falling
in on itself, and of the South collapsing with the Civil War.
One character, Judith, was his voice of mercy. She was his attempt
to capture the swell of fate and what it is like to try to untangle
the web of destruction.
Shortly before her death she says, "You
get born and try this and don't know why only you keep tying
it and you are born at the same time with a lot of other people,
all mixed up with them, like trying to, having to, move your
arms and legs with strings only the same strings are hitched
to all the other arms and legs and all the others are all trying
and they don't know why either except that the strings are all
in one another's way." Judith was his voice trying to make
sense of life when everything falls apart.
While Faulkner never mentioned Absalom
or David directly in the novel itself, what I found was that
the entire story was one long look at Absalom and his fire. With
such a gaze, Faulkner literally tried to capture the chaos, to
write a novel that was life falling apart, struggling, being
razed to the ground. The story is written in such a way where
he tries to approximate what it feels like when life is swirling
around you, as it must have been for David as he tried to understand
why his son would do this to him.
I thought it a nice parallel that Faulkner's
novel ends with a house burning down.
Whether for good or for ill, this is
where his story ends, in ashes, the burnt remains of one family's
attempt to build a kingdom by taking it from another, and ultimately
leaving nothing. This is where Faulkner's story of Absalom ends,
but that is not the end of Jeremiah's story of Absalom. In the
passages we read this morning we have what may be called, the
remains. When fire consumes it leaves a remnant, or like with
gold, a purified substance. In the case of David what remained
of him was much like the discovery of the archeologists in New
Mexico: the fire removed all the trapping of his life, yet the
fire also uncovered an ancient edifice within him.
For when the fire of Absalom had swept
away his kingdom, his palace, his title, his honor (he was put
to flight by his son who wanted him dead, a son he had forgiven
of fratricide), when all was consumed and David was in hiding,
when he should have been filled with bitterness, wrath, anger,
slander, and malice, when he could have spoken evil he said,
"deal gently with him." And with the news of his death,
when David was restored, his kingdom returned he could have rejoiced
and stood proud that his title had endured, yet he mourned, offering
the most profound and tender words. "Absalom, my son Absalom,
would I have died instead of you.
Absalom, Absalom!"
When the fire came and consumed David's
kingdom, when he had been reduced to a fugitive, when all the
trappings- the canopy of a king- were taken from him, what was
left was a heart of tender mercy. Perhaps this is what Faulkner
was trying to do with his novel, to bum away ambition and pride,
greed and dishonesty, to show them as falsehood and put them
away, to set the soul ablaze and see what was left, to see if
we could discover what lies buried, hidden deep within each of
us.
Sigmund Freud tried this with psychoanalysis
to discover what lies deep within us. His excavation though only
went as far as fear and brokenness, he only went as deep as our
sin. If he had dug deeper he would have found what we see in
David, what Faulkner hoped his readers would find in themselves,
what Paul discovered when he looked within. Inside each of us
there is a deep connectedness one to the other, we are tied,
bound, and united by flesh and also by something holy: deep within
us is a mark of redemption an image of God, an image that is
restored by forgiveness and sustained by love. This is the image
we see when David cries out, "Would it have been I who died.
Absalom, Absalom!" This is the ancient edifice lying within
him, an image of God.
The hope of baptism is that we can uncover
this image, remove the layers of sin and death with water, not
fire. Both fire and water are ancient images of chaos; both have
the power to consume and to wipe clean. The hope of baptism is
that the water will gently wash away, like the old hymn "softly
and tenderly" wash away what we put over the image of God
that lies within each of us. It was fire that exposed such tender
and gentle words in David- the fire Absalom brought to his kingdom
uncovered the ancient image of mercy within him. Paul is offering
the same, only instead of fire, the gentle rain of Christ, the
patient dew of mercy offered by God day after day. It is almost
as if Paul, in his words of direction, is trying to wash away
the layers, the circumstances of life so we can see our self
as God does. To wash and see beloved child of God, as someone
for whom life was offered, giving up his life for us. Let it
be I instead.
The fire Absalom brought to David exposed
what was in his heart, exposed the ancient image of creation:
we are marked with a seal of redemption, forgiven, and loved.
This is the ancient decision of God, the eternal choice of God
borne in creation, restored upon the cross.
The good news Paul tried to offer was
such an image lies inside of all, we are all members of one another.
Each of us have been marked and sealed.
Life can bring fire. I have no doubt
there are some here who are smoldering a bit. To lose a child,
a spouse, a loved one; to see everyday life come to an end; to
be tangled up like Judith was where you are all mixed up, where
clarity is only hoped for; life can bring this sort of fire and
uncover what lies within us. Difficulties the old saying goes
can bring out the best, or the worst in us. The best is when
we. see who we are really are, we are ones who are marked, forgiven,
and loved by God.
Life can bring fire, yet Christ has offered
us water. Bidding his disciples to go into the world baptizing
in his name so that the image of God may be restored in all and
life may be lived in love. Life is filled with choices; Paul
lists out some very good ones. Behind each one of his choices
of putting away, of being tender, of offering grace, of speaking
the truth, behind each of these is a decision to reject anger,
wrath, vengeance, falsehood and so on. Yet beneath these choices
and the struggle they represent, for it is a struggle sometimes
to not let the sun go down on our anger, or to be kind, or to
imitate God, beneath these difficult choices though is the choice
of God, the choice we remember in baptism.
David Emerson Garry did not choose to
be baptized this day. It was not his choice. He will, I hope
and pray, have many days under the sun to make choices. And I
have confidence he will have times of success and failure in
these choices. Yet today is a day where we see the choice of
God, the ancient edifice, the choice God made in creation and
restored upon the cross. Today is a day where we see the words
of Christ. "I will take his place, for he is with me; that
I would die instead of him." This is the image of love that
is within David as is within each of us.
Life brings fire, but Christ brings water,
washing away the layers of sin, covering the wounds and redeeming
the soul. Fate is how you chose to live Ralph Waldo Emerson said.
To this I would add, it is how we chose to live with the image
of God in us. Deep within each us is the loving choice of God,
engraved in our soul, the mark we uncover in baptism. Live this
day free from anger offering tender mercy one to the other, imitating
God, living in love. For as we do this we will uncover the mark
of baptism, the water revealing the seal, the forgiveness, the
sacrifice of God, the choice: in Jesus Christ God chose to love
us, saying, "let it be me instead." Amen.
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