I Kings 19:4-9a
These are some of the headlines for articles I read this past week:
“Elizabeth Warren is right: Corruption is rotting the U.S. from within.”
“I’m beginning to suspect there were not, in fact, the best people.”
“President Trump brings mafia ethics to the GOP”
“The moral rot is spreading.”
Even the conservative Weekly Standard explored what it called “The Rot at the Top.”
I go away for a couple of weeks and come back to this: moral rot as far as the eye can see!
Now, in reality, these concerns are not new. We’ve heard for some time now that ethics are evaporating, morality is moribund, virtue is vanishing. But as our nation seems to lurch toward an expanding crisis, such concerns take on a new importance. Democracy dies and tyranny gains a foothold through the erosion of norms and basic human decency.
So as I thought about preaching during these weeks when we wrap up the summer and move into the fall—and as an election draws near—I began to think about virtue—the basic goodness, decency, and integrity that seem in such short supply these days—and the significance of virtue for our lives, our congregation and community, and for our nation.
The philosopher Alain de Botton got at the problem when he wrote: Once we’re over about 12 years old, we’re seldom encouraged to be nice. We’re expected to make efforts in all kinds of areas (chiefly around work), but the idea of expending energy thinking about, and then practicing the art of kindness sounds bizarre, even eerie. The notion of trying to be a ‘good person’ conjures up all sorts of negative associations…Announce that you are working on your body and you will attract envy and respect. Declare that you are working on your character, and you will be thought insane.”
He adds, however, that “The main exception to this lack of interest in applied ethics comes in religion. Whatever disagreements one might have with their definitions of goodness or the practical implementations of their own creeds, religions do not stop trying to encourage their followers to be good.”
He's right, isn’t he? One of my jobs is to keep encouraging you to be good. And sometimes I even succeed!
But, honestly, I don’t talk that much about virtue. I don’t want to come across as a scold.
But these times bring new challenges, even to the pulpit. And now is the time to talk about virtue for vicissitudes—I like that—virtue for all the changes and variations, the shifting circumstances of life.
You know that we often speak of seven virtues: prudence, justice, temperance, and courage, as well as faith, hope, and love. Those are helpful and merit our attention.
Alain de Botton suggested ten virtues for our time: resilience, empathy, patience, sacrifice, politeness, humor, self-awareness, forgiveness, hope, and confidence. This morning and on the Sundays ahead, I’d like to consider these and how they might help us at a time when, well, when moral rot is spreading, when truth isn’t truth, when the death of Senator McCain leads people to look around and ask “What have we become as a nation?”
So let’s start with resilience: the art of keeping going even when things are looking dark; of accepting reversals as normal; of refusing to frighten others with one’s own fears; and of remembering that human nature is, in the end, reassuringly tough.
All of us here today have known some difficult times—you know, those shadow times when you weren't sure how you would make it through: a job loss, a death, severe illness, difficult decisions. Certainly there is much that would make us want to stop, to give up. When things go wrong, sorrow or regret or anger takes possession of our minds and drives away consolation and confidence.
And while there is much about human nature that is reassuringly tough, there is also much about human nature that troubles us.
When Paul writes to that early Christian congregation in Rome, he recognizes that we are broken human beings, each of us hurting and being hurt.
Paul recognizes that we are sinful men and women, each of us caught up doing the very things we don't want to do‑‑and not doing the good we desire.
This is to say, Paul recognizes both the rot all around us and the rot within us.
But if we fix our eyes on the place where the course of the world reaches its lowest point, where the groanings of the world are most bitter, and where God seems nowhere to be found, we shall encounter the crucified and risen Christ in that very place. This faith is what calls forth our resilience and sustains us in the darkness.
Paul writes about “persecution, hunger, nakedness, danger and sword”—all very real threats to our well‑being. I’m sure you can think of others. But these threats do not mean our defeat. John Calvin put it this way: “Though clouds obscure the clear view of the sun, they do not entirely deprive us of its light. So, in our adversity, the rays of God’s grace shine through darkness so that we need not give in to despair.”
God never forgets God's mercy, God’s desire that we would be fully alive, fully in contact with all that gives life. We will always struggle with evil, for that is a part of living.
But, as Paul reminds us, God is for us. Even in adversity, even in failure, we can still attempt great things, we can still pursue excellence in all that we do.
The witness of scripture reminds us of the power of God to sustain us in our weakness, in our despair so that rather than giving up, we might know resilience and keep going, finding what is both tough and encouraging.
One of my favorite reminders is in that story of Elijah.
Elijah has defeated a group of false prophets and for his effort he finds his own life threatened. What’s the expression? No good deed goes unpunished.
So Elijah flees into the wilderness.
We encounter him, sitting underneath a broom tree.
Look at Elijah: God’s prophet—worn out, pursued by enemies. He sits down and prays: “It is enough; now, O Lord, take away my life.”
We’ve been tired like that—each one of us. We would like to rest or maybe just quit.
And how does God respond? Not by taking Elijah out of danger. Not by suddenly making everything alright. Not even by letting Elijah get a good night’s sleep.
God responds—well, a lot like God, who never seems to let anyone off easily. So Anne Lamott can say: “When God is doing something wonderful, He or She always starts with a hardship; when God is doing something amazing, He or She starts with an impossibility.”
God is calling forth our resilience. God doesn’t let Elijah off that easily—and God doesn’t let us off that easily—because that’s just how God is.
Developing the virtue that keeps going, God tells Elijah “Get up,” God tells him. “Get up and eat and drink.” This is the God who feeds our deepest hunger, the God who sustains us in our weariness. We want to quit. God says, “Have a sandwich.”
“Taste and see,” the psalmist tells us, “Taste and see that the Lord is good.”
Enjoy every good thing.
Elijah isn’t fed so that he can be full and comfortable. He is given sustenance so that he can move forward.
We are not nourished to grow fat. We are not given strength to become muscle bound. God’s gifts have a purpose. As we find those gifts in our lives and in this congregation we are called to use them to announce good news to the world.
The dorm room poster tells us: “When you come to the end of your rope—tie a knot and hang on.” The story of Elijah reminds us that when we’ve reached the end of our rope—even when our strength for holding on is gone—in love for us, the Sovereign God does not let go.
This is the message that comes to us today: Do not give in. Do not give up.
Your life and what you do with it, how each of us lives in the years we have—all of this is of great and lasting significance.
And somewhere you knew this before you came here today. You did not come here this morning to be told to be an idle spectator. You came because you sense your ability and want to use it. You came here because you wanted to hear again the good news that there is a powerful and forgiving love that will sustain you through all the discouragement and opposition and failure as you act in the world. And that is just what I am telling you.
This is the encouragement of the good news: Do not give up. Do not quit the good and valuable work that you are doing.
What you are doing here matters.
As we develop the virtue of resilience in our individual lives, we find it growing in our life together as well.
Ted Kooser, one-time Poet Laureate of the United States, wrote a poem that speaks to our collective desire to persevere. It is called “Mourners.” In just nine lines, Kooser tells of people coming together to mourn the death of a friend.
They came this afternoon to say goodbye,
but now they keep saying hello and hello,
peering into each other’s faces,
slow to let go of each other’s hands.
Resilience stems from hardship, and perhaps loss, but it is rooted in a desire to continue to survive, even thrive, and it is even better when that survival is nurtured by the collective support of others.
What we are doing together is of value in God’s now and in God’s eternity.
Through our resilient efforts God is able to accomplish far more than we can imagine.