Sunday, April 28th, 2024: "Be Good Humans"
First United Presbyterian Church
“Be Good Humans”
Rev. Amy Morgan
April 28, 2024
Isaiah 58:6-12
Is not this the fast that I choose:
to loose the bonds of injustice,
to undo the straps of the yoke,
to let the oppressed go free,
and to break every yoke?
7 Is it not to share your bread with the hungry
and bring the homeless poor into your house;
when you see the naked, to cover them
and not to hide yourself from your own kin?
8 Then your light shall break forth like the dawn,
and your healing shall spring up quickly;
your vindicator[a] shall go before you;
the glory of the Lord shall be your rear guard.
9 Then you shall call, and the Lord will answer;
you shall cry for help, and he will say, “Here I am.”
If you remove the yoke from among you,
the pointing of the finger, the speaking of evil,
10 if you offer your food to the hungry
and satisfy the needs of the afflicted,
then your light shall rise in the darkness
and your gloom be like the noonday.
11 The Lord will guide you continually
and satisfy your needs in parched places
and make your bones strong,
and you shall be like a watered garden,
like a spring of water
whose waters never fail.
12 Your ancient ruins shall be rebuilt;
you shall raise up the foundations of many generations;
you shall be called the repairer of the breach,
the restorer of streets to live in.
Imagine a community that has planted a garden, buried seeds in the ground, and is anxiously waiting for it to grow. This garden means everything to them. They have seen it alive and flourishing in the past. Now they are in a desperate situation, and the food from this garden represents hope and prosperity. They pray over this garden day and night. They sing to it. They fast and sacrifice and beg and plead for it to grow.
But what they don’t do is water it. They are so focused on their prayers and spiritual practices they neglect to notice that the soil is dry and cracked. Also, they dump their garbage in the garden, finding it to be the most convenient place to dispose of their rubbish. Toxins leak into the ground and kill whatever hope there might have been for the seeds opening up and sending out roots. They also cut down a nearby tree that had been offering a bit of afternoon shade because it obstructed their view of the landscape. And, when someone comes to them begging for food, they send them out to work in the garden, pulling dry weeds in the scorching sun with the promise that when the garden comes to fruition, they will share some of the produce.
Shockingly, the garden does not grow. Not a single healthy stem peeks above the earth. It remains dead and destitute week after week, month after month, year after year. And the community that planted the garden cries out to God in their grief and anger. They have done all the right things – said the right prayers, sang the right songs – perfectly in tune. They have followed every rule God gave them, and yet, the garden remains barren, and they remain destitute. They accuse God of not caring about them, of forgetting about them, of ignoring them. They can’t understand why the garden won’t grow when they are doing all the right things.
Around the middle of the sixth century, B.C., the people of Israel found themselves in this kind of situation. They had spent 70 years in exile in Babylon, and when they finally returned, they re-committed themselves to God’s law and to rebuilding the holy city of Jerusalem. But after several decades, this project seems to not be going well. The people cry out to God, accusing God of not fulfilling God’s promises. They argue amongst themselves and blame each other for the failures in their rebuilding effort. They can’t understand why things are going so badly when they are doing everything God wants them to do. They are fasting and praying and sacrificing and worshipping. And still, the city is in shambles and the people are suffering.
But some people are suffering more than others. These oppressed people have themselves become oppressors. They are treating their fellow humans unjustly, they are neglecting the needs of the poor among them, they are blaming and scapegoating part of the population in ways that are sucking the life out of this community.
God’s people were great at being religious. But they were not being good humans.
And this problem, unfortunately, was not resolved in the sixth century. Jesus confronts the religious authorities of the first century with the same accusation: they are great at being religious; they are not being good humans. This problem isn’t unique to Judaism. Throughout history we find people and communities that were deeply religious in their observance of faith practices, but totally dehumanizing in their actions toward other people and whole populations. From the calculated wars for unified power by Hindu kings to the brutal and bloody conflicts in early Islam that continue into the present day, from the Christian Crusades and even to the followers of peace-centered Buddhism brutally and violently oppressing a minority population in Myanmar, all world religions are practiced by human beings who, at least at times, are better at being religious than they are at being human.
One of our Confirmands shared with the Session last week that what they learned in the Confirmation process was that Christians were not very good humans. We had a class where we acted out 2,000 years of church history in 45 minutes, and in that survey what stood out to this young person was the conflicts and greed, the scapegoating and oppression that is undeniably part of the history of the Christian church.
Some would draw the conclusion that religion incites violence, that somehow religious adherence encourages the kind of blind fervor that results in oppression, injustice, and massacres. But this conclusion reduces the history of religion to the worst impulses of human beings, to the inhumanity we are all capable of, whether we’re religious or not. And this passage from Isaiah makes it clear that the God of Israel disdains religious observance if that observance is not making them treat one another justly and compassionately. In other words, if religion isn’t making us better humans, God wants no part of it.
Persecution and oppression of religious groups worldwide is still prevalent today. In many instances, Christians are the oppressed party. In some cases, Christians are the oppressors. And sometimes, Christians are both oppressed and oppressive.
It is essential for us to be aware of and recognize these dynamics on the level of systemic and institutional oppression. And it’s important for us to understand how we participate in them. Because if we come here to worship week after week, if we pray and sing and give and serve, but then go out into the world and live in oppressive ways, we’re going to be disappointed by the lack of growth and flourishing in our world. If our religious practice isn’t making us better humans, God wants no part in it.
So what exactly does that mean? What makes us better humans? How does God want us to act in the world? What difference is our religious observance supposed to make?
There are a lot of things in the Bible that are confusing and difficult to understand and interpret. Fortunately, this is not one of them. God is very clear with the Israelites. Release those bound by injustice and burdened by slavery and entrapped by oppression. No one should be forced into servitude the way an ox is forced into a yoke. Share what you have – food, shelter, clothing – with those in need. Don’t avoid those pesky relatives who always seem to want something from you. Stop blaming and shaming each other and using people as scapegoats. Take care of one another. Be decent human beings.
This doesn’t feel like hard stuff to understand. It feels like the sort of stuff our religious practices should equip us to do. If our prayers and songs, sacrifices of time, talent, and treasure, are truly drawing us closer to a just and loving God, it seems reasonable that we would then act justly and lovingly toward other humans and the whole creation. And it feels like doing these things will nourish the world around us and encourage the flourishing of our neighbors and our society.
But we also know we fail to do these things. We neglect to water our relationships with justice and compassion. We dump the refuse of our toxic resentments, fears, and prejudices in the garden of our community. We cut out much-needed resources for our neighbors because they alter the way we want to see the world. Our desire to get more for less drives us to commodify human labor in ways that are dehumanizing and oppressive.
But God knows that we are capable of being good humans. The law God gave to the Hebrew people was not a formula for becoming more religious, it was a guidebook for being better humans, for loving God, creation, and humanity, for creating a more just and loving world. God gave the law, not to watch us fail, but to help us see when we are on the wrong path so we can turn in the right direction.
God promises that if we can just be basically decent human beings, really wonderful things will happen. This prophecy from Isaiah sets up a direct cause-and-effect. IF we will just be good humans, THEN – we will be a source of light and life, we will experience healing, we will know peace and security, God will show up when we cry for help. Our needs will be met, and we will grow strong. We will “be like a watered garden, like a spring of water, whose waters never fail.”
If we are tired of living in a world that is parched for justice, that is malnourished by oppression, that is deprived of new life and hopeful signs of growth, then there is something we can do. If we want to live in a world of abundance, a world where justice and peace thrive, where love and compassion grow, then we need to tend to the garden of our world with more than prayers and songs and sacrifices.
Perhaps Israel took the Word of God spoken through Isaiah to heart. Their ancient ruins were rebuilt, they repaired the breaches in the wall around the city, they restored streets to live in, and they built a new temple where they could worship and practice their faith. Perhaps, eventually, their religion made them better humans.
For hundreds of years, the people of God flourished through cultural and theological diversity, innovation, and growth. They nourished justice and righteousness in a variety of forms, developing different strands of the Jewish faith that would continue into the time of Jesus. And while the challenge of being good humans persisted, there were seasons of thriving and hope.
Perhaps we will never entirely resolve the problem of religious people not being good humans. Systemic injustice, institution sin, is part of our theological framework because we know it is something we will always have to deal with until God’s reign is complete on earth. But in this time of year when flowers begin to bloom and we start thinking about planting our summer gardens, perhaps we can also give some thought to how we are caring for other people in the world. Are we living in ways that are nourishing, or are we neglecting those who thirst for justice and freedom? Are we living in ways that are empowering and uplifting, or are we trashing the lives of other people because it’s convenient or hides the garbage we don’t want the world to see? Are we sharing the earth’s resources, or are we arranging the world to our liking, ignoring the adverse effects it has on our neighbors? Are we treating people with dignity and equity, or are we treating them as commodities to be harnessed for profit?
We can be good at being religious and good at being human. Because ultimately, that’s the whole point. Religious practice is meant to shape us into better humans. Love of God is meant to be connected to love of our neighbors. May we remember to water our gardens this summer as we remember to care for all God’s children. Then perhaps we can become like a watered garden, like a spring of water whose waters never fail.
All glory be to God forever and ever. Amen.
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