Sermon: Someone There is Who Does not Love a Wall

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Someone There is Who Does not Love a Wall

By Jerusha Neal

August 19, 2012

[ Audio (mp3, 6.0Mb) ]

We were pleased to welcome Rev Jerusha Neal as guest preacher this morning. Rev Neal is an ordained American Baptist pastor, currently working with her husband in the Wesley United Methodist Church in Belleville, NJ. She is studying for her PhD at Princeton Theological Seminary in Princeton NJ.

bert Frost's famous poem “Mending Wall” begins with the line “Something there is that doesn't love a wall.” The poet describes carefully mending the stone wall between his property and his neighbor's property every spring…and wondering why it is they make their walls…and what it is that, throughout the year, tears those walls down. “Something there is that doesn't love a wall,” Frost says. And in response, something deep and strong resonates inside me.

I had a seminary professor once who told us, “When you pastor, if you ever want people to read the Bible on their own, you better have a simple 1-2 sentence answer to this question: What's it about?” What is this whole story…this whole book about? One good answer to that question is this: It is the story about how from the very beginning of time, God has worked to break down the walls that separate us from each other, from creation and from God's very Self. To paraphrase Frost, it is a story that asserts “Someone there is who doesn't love a wall.”

The scripture passages this morning are difficult ones. (When I found out there would be a baptism following that first reading – I thought, oh no – “Depart from me, evildooers” does not really set the right baptismal tone.) Really anytime Jesus uses the term “evildoers” in a scripture passage—you can be sure the preacher had a tough time crafting the sermon that week. It's just a hard passage—all the more so, because it's leveled straight at church people—those that think they're in the good graces of God. “Lord, Lord, we prophesied in your name…we performed many miracles!” And the Romans passage isn't much easier. It may be familiar to some of you. “All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.” But it is a complicated passage, too. Full of references to,justification by faith, atonement sacrifice, Mosaic Law. These are big subjects every one of them. But more than complexity of the subject matter and the brusqueness of the tone, these passages are hard because they force us to look head on at a subject we are uncomfortable discussing. The subject of sin.

There was a day when preachers stood tall in stone pulpits and thundered about damnation and hell…but in churches like Christ Church – or my own Methodist congregation - that seems a long time ago. We worry about “sin-talk” now…and for some very good reasons. We worry a heavy focus on guilt will distort a person's understanding of grace—grace greater than our sin. We worry that so much talk about our sinfulness as human beings undercuts the more foundational truth that we are sacred creations of God…and that the beating heart of that God is Love. But I think the biggest reason we have so often found ourselves silent on the issue of sin is that we have seen the issue abused again and again, to build walls within the church. There are the righteous and there are the sinful. There are holy and there are the unclean. We've heard sermons on sin that neatly categorize the entire world into the good, the bad and the ugly…the loveable, straight, patriotic, naturalized citizen…and the evildoers.

And so, we decide that rather than being divisive and legalistic and holier-than-thou…rather than build walls between us, we would rather not talk about sin at all… because we know “Someone there is who doesn't love a wall.”

And all that would be fine and good except for one thing. Regardless of how preachers have used this subject in the past, when the Bible talks about sin, it is not interested in building walls. When the Bible talks about sin, it is interested in tearing walls down. Especially in our two passages this morning. And if we want to get serious about breaking down the walls between us, understanding the implications of sin in us and in our communities is the place to begin.

When Paul writes to the church in Rome, he is facing the problem of walls. Concern about the boundaries of sin and righteousness had formed all kinds of divisions in the community. Walls between Jewish believers and non-Jewish believers—who'd never even seen a Seder. Men and women. Rich and poor. …they wanted to know, where are the walls supposed to be? Where are the lines supposed to be drawn? Who is in and who is out? Who's sinful and whose a righteous follower of God's Law? Paul goes right to the heart of the dilemma—discussing not where the line should be drawn between sinner and saint—but the Roman Christians's desire for such a wall in the first place. Their desire to justify themselves over against another group, not quite as pure and righteous as themselves.

Paul makes the bold statement that ALL of us…all of us are sinners saved by faith in Christ alone. That in light of that reality, no one has reason to boast! Notice, Paul does not talk about sin in order to make the Roman Christians doubt God's love for them or manipulate them with guilt. His discussion of sin was meant to do one thing only: break down the walls that held back those Roman Christians from knowing the love of Christ in their community and in their own hearts. To break down the walls that separated them from the brother and sister they would rather not claim as family.

Paul loved God's Law…and he strove to live a godly life…but he was all too familiar with how something meant for good could be used for evil.

There are different kinds of walls in the world. There are good walls that are meant to protect and keep out the rain. Walls of a white clapboard farm house that get decorated with pine boughs every Christmas. Walls that ring with the laughter and bedtime prayers of children. Walls that stand strong against the wind and cradle the aroma of chicken noodle soup on a cold day.

But even the best walls become ominous when the doorway inside them is deadbolted with fear. Those loving walls can become a prison, rather than a haven. They can muffle the cries of one who is abused. They can become a symbol for the chasm between the haves and the have-nots. They can blind us from the world God loves. They can lock out the young woman heavy with child and the Living Word she carries. They can lock us away from Christ.

There is a reason the scriptures say that Christ stands at the door and knocks. Because the walls of the church…the walls of God's Law…were never intended to be a barrier to the outside world or a barrier to love. They were never intended to be a prison that locks us away… or a line in the sand that marks the clean from the unclean. In the kingdom of God, those walls were meant to be - like a screen door that happily squeaks open to let in a neighbor for lemonade…or slams shut as the residents of the house take lemonade outside to the stranger on the street.

Someone there is who doesn't love a wall. And that someone is Christ. So much so, that if you draw a line in the sand and say “us” and “them”…you can guarantee yourself that Christ is on the other side of the line eating with “them”. You risk hearing Christ say “I don't think I know you.” Because God came to save sinners…to eat with those left out and excluded…and the only way to get to Him…is to open the screen door and remember that you don't really own that house you're living in at all. You're there as a guest, by God's grace. You belong outside those walls as much as the next guy. And they belong inside just as much as you. The good news of the gospel begins here: “ALL have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.”

And so you push that screen door open and stand on the porch steps, blinking in the sunlight. And you're remembering – all of a sudden - that you don't look so great in the full light of day—which is maybe why you stayed inside to begin with. But then you see these faces… the faces of men and woman and children too, watching One who sits at a table right there in the open air—a sort of picnic table, I guess you could call it. And he's saying things that make your heart leap to your throat because you are so certain they are true. You've never heard words so true. He's speaks about a love that's brighter than the sun shining in your eyes. And you find you're thinking less about yourself—and more about the faces around you. Faces of every color. Faces you didn't expect to be there. Ordinary faces, that are all a little dirty and a little odd—there's a woman with exuberant eyebrows, and a man with an overlarge nose… there are protruding ears and cowlicks on the tops of heads—and lots of wrinkles. But somehow, in that late-afternoon sun, they all strike you as beautiful. Maybe because their faces are just as odd and dirty and ordinary and beautiful as your own.

And then he is breaking bread and pouring drink. And you realize that he's inviting you to eat—with him, from his hand—right along with everybody else. A sinner saved by grace. He wants to know you – to forgive you - to feed you.

Someone there is who doesn't love a wall. So come - come out from the walls you're hiding behind. You are not alone. The table is ready, and Christ is waiting.

Let us pray.