The Plumb Line

July 14, 2019, 5 Pentecost

Emmanuel Church, Wakefield

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

           There are so many presenting social issues these days that I find it overwhelming to even think about them, let alone try to do something about them. There is the on-going humanitarian crisis on our borders and throughout our world, as people migrate from one place to another for various reasons. We have concerns about climate change; and the recent earthquakes in California were reported as a “wake up call” for all of us. When it comes to the opiod crisis and addictions, I find myself personally frustrated with this baffling and cunning disease, one that easily crosses all socio-economic boundaries and borders. Indeed in a recent survey, people were asked about the “very big” problems in our country today. The number one answer, that is 70% of the responders, said drug addiction.(Christian Century, July 3, 2019)

            It was the plumb line of Amos that brought social issues into sharper focus for me. I had been involved with a coalition of churches in Connecticut which had created a transitional living facility for homeless women and children. We called it Amos House, notably after the prophet in today’s Old Testament lesson. Amos had left the fields in his hometown of Bethlehem, where he worked as a shepherd, to speak God’s words of judgment to those who lived in Samaria, and the cities located in the northern kingdom of Israel.

According to HarperCollins Study Bible, the message of Amos is “direct and uncompromising. Over and over he announces to the people of Israel that, because of their social injustice and religious arrogance, the Lord will punish them by means of a total military disaster.” Indeed it was only 50 years later that the king of Assyria, which is current day Iran, began to aggressively incorporate both Syria and Israel into his empire. The conflict in the Middle East remains of concern to all of us even today.

Amos believed that he had been called by God to sound the warning bell, not just to the Israelites but to other countries as well. He told them that they had violated standards of international conduct. They lacked integrity, and accused them of religious corruption, exploitation of young girls, and prosperity for a few people at the expense of many. Amos spoke about the lack of legal due processes in their courts and the enslavement of people because of debts. You have forgotten your covenant with God and chased after false idols, Amos prophesied. You have neglected the needy among you. You are a self-indulgent society and this plumb line reveals that your lives are crooked. “Prepare to meet your God,” warned Amos.

            In true rabbinic fashion, the lawyer, a teacher of the law of Moses, was preparing himself for eternal life by testing Jesus. He asked questions because he wanted to be justified, that is to say, he wanted to be made right in the eyes of God and his fellow Jews. He wanted his plumb line to hang straight. “Who is my neighbor?” he asked Jesus, “and how can I inherit eternal life.”

            In addition to the plumb line, Amos uses four other images to paint a picture of God’s impending judgment. Locusts will come like a plague and destroy your crops. Fire will reign down from heaven like a lightning bolt in the middle of a summer storm, striking your boat in Boston Harbor and setting it ablaze. Your basket of summer fruit will rot and you’ll never see the time of the fall harvest. And then, in his final and most disturbing vision, Amos says he saw the Lord standing beside the altar giving orders for the total destruction of their people.

Are we shaking in our boots yet? Like the lawyer in today’s gospel, we too might start asking Jesus these very same questions. We might wonder, “What must I do, indeed, what must we do to inherit eternal life?” “You know the answer,” said Jesus. “Love God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength. And love your neighbor as yourself.” On these two commandments hang all the Law and the Prophets.

Not so easy, I say. It’s hard to love people when their behavior is unloveable, antagonistic, and destructive. When the late Fred Rogers walks into my room and asks, “Won’t you be my neighbor?” my response may be, “Well, that depends. You seem kind and gentle, but I’m not so sure about them.” Overwhelmed with the social injustices and systemic corruption of today, we may throw up our hands in despair and wonder, what on earth can I do, and what on earth can we do, when the problems seem so very big and we are so very small.

 Frederick Buechner once wrote, “If we are to love our neighbors, before doing anything else, we must see our neighbors. With our imagination, as well as our eyes, we must see not just their faces but the life behind and within their faces.” (Whistling in the Dark ,1988)  It’s hard to love people from a distance, when we don’t know their stories, their histories, their struggles, and their wounds.

 Like the priest and the Levite I have crossed the road many times to avoid someone that makes me uncomfortable. I have put up blinders so that I cannot see people who are standing, lying, or sitting right in front of me in distress. I have made false assumptions about people because I don’t know their story. Too often, I have chosen to hide in my room, in my office, or in my bed rather than face a difficult person, a challenging situation, or listen to someone’s painful story. I have erected barriers, big walls and little fences, so that they can’t get too close to me, because, for the life of me, I do not know what to do about them or me or it.

Amos said that it was never too late to change. We can avert the disasters that loom on our horizon, he said, if we repent and return to the Lord first, and then make God’s love a verb. We ask God to fill us with God’s love and show us how to serve. There are people lying in the proverbial roads all around us. These people, maybe they are even us, are people who have been wounded physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually by someone or a system that has robbed them of something. “Who is my neighbor?” the lawyer asked. And Jesus replied, the one that is right in front of you, the one who needs God’s mercy.

When Jesus redirects his gaze at me, I find myself squirming uncomfortably, trying to justify myself. I look at the sick man one block away, sleeping on the grass, with multiple layers of clothing in 90 degree heat, a shopping cart filled and overflowing with garbage bags of I’m not sure what, and I hear today’s gospel about the Good Samaritan and I cringe.

No, I will not go to him with oil and wine, place him in my car, and drive him to the local Marriott, where I will pay for his food and lodging. No, I will not even approach him and ask him about his life and his story, how he came to be on the grass on this side of the Charles River, rather than on the city streets of Boston. No, I will not cross the street to avoid him, or tell him that Jesus loves him, but rather I will look him in the eye to acknowledge his humanity, and see the goodness that lies underneath all those layers. Then I will think about what I actually can do.

The needs of this world are endless. While we cannot respond to everyone in our paths, we can take one small step closer to one person in need. If we’re willing to say “Yes” to the call of Jesus, to be a laborer in his harvest, we have multiple ways we can do that. “Keep it simple, silly,” I say to myself. KISS God, KISS yourself, and KISS your neighbor.

Offer a kind word,“I understand” or a simple apology, “I’m sorry.” Ask questions about a problem, show up for a vigil, walk for a cause, and listen to someone’s story. Give a little more of your time, talents, and treasure.

 Luke’s gospel is known for its focus on the forgiving and healing power of God as manifested in the person of Jesus. In the last chapter of Amos, the prophet assures his listeners that the day is coming when nature will be incredibly fruitful and those who experienced the judgment of God will see God acting to save them. Our Lord stands at the altar today, not with a message of impending disaster, but rather with God’s message of love and salvation.

We can see the judgment of God in the plumb line which we call the cross. Through Jesus, we have inherited eternal life, and have been justified and made righteous in the eyes of God. On the cross, we can see our Good Samaritan, the One who picks us up, heals our wounds, and tells the innkeeper to put the bill on His tab. Loving God for his gracious act of mercy for us, we can then love ourselves and our neighbors as God loves us. We can also make love a verb.

Amos 7:7-17

Psalm 82

Colossians 1:1-14

Luke 10:25-37