Many of you may not know that when I was in college I worked at the college radio station. During my time there I worked various shifts. I had a baroque classical time slot in the afternoon on the FM station. I did an “oldies” slot on the AM station in the morning (at that time oldies meant pop tunes from the late 50’s and early 60’s)—and occasionally on weekends on the FM station I did a midnight acid rock slot (remember “Commander Cody and the Lost Planet Airmen?”) These were the days before computers and CDs. We were a small operation so the broadcaster also read the news—the news we read each hour came in on two teletype machines which clattered away constantly. What I remember most was that the machines had bells attached that we could hear faintly even in the broadcast booth—these bells would go off when a particularly important story came over the wire. Posted above the teletype machine and in the studio was a list of what the various number of rings of the bells meant. Normal headlines and news was signaled with only one or two rings—three or four rings meant a severe storm or tornado—five or six rings meant a major accident or disaster (like a plane crash or ship sinking)—seven or eight rings meant a national emergency of some type (like the death of a president)—nine or ten rings meant grave national or global threat (a nuclear attack was the definition in those days.) I still remember that someone had written under the last entry—fifteen rings with the explanation—“Cubs win the World Series.”.
At numerous times during my days and nights broadcasting the bells would go off—I never heard more than six rings (definitely not fifteen)—but several times I interrupted the music to read a breaking story. As I read the lessons for this evening I was struck—especially by the first lesson from the Old Testament prophet Joel—by the warning signals called for to prepare the faithful for God’s call to repentance. The prophet calls for a trumpet to be sounded from the heights of the mountains—to interrupt the regular routines of the people—to alert them—to warn them—prepare them. There can be no business as usual—even the wedding party is to be interrupted—something very important is happening. Time for the faithful to interrupt their lives—God is about to encounter the people—the question is, for ill or with a blessing?
Over the last few months I have caught myself thinking on numerous occasions about that old teletype bell and wondering how many times would it have rung if it had been around say in September or the following months. Certainly the regular broadcasts were interrupted many times these past few months—our lives were interrupted by the news and events of the world. As I noted in my Pastor’s column this month I have been struggling with the question of exactly how to best view the relationship between my faith and these interruptions to my daily living. This is an especially important question as we enter the season of Lent. Our faith is foundational to who we are and what we are—what we believe and how we live out that belief witnesses to our values and priorities each day. Is our faith life the basis of our being? If that is so then that means that the center of our being is in and with God and our daily lives are likely to interrupt our faith life. But it is easy to live lives apart from faith—where each Sunday or Wednesday evening is an interruption of the routine that could be comfortably lived if it were not for God’s warning bells.
Jesus has rather curious words to offer us this evening. Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them. Jesus warns against faith interruptions that are news worthy but devoid of blessing or spiritual value. The Lenten discipline is a reminder that our lives are constantly lived in witness to our faith—but making such witness faith filled—loving and grace filled—is not always easy. Today set off other alarm bells in my head—I think the very type Jesus warned against. Chris and I went out for lunch in Deerfield before heading separate directions to make calls. We were both in our clergy collars—the waitress handed me a menu and said “Here you are Father” and the bells went off in my head. I’ve been through this many times before in Chicago. She clearly assumed I was either Roman Catholic or Orthodox (my beard often does that)—Today is Ash Wednesday—My mind was quickly filled with questions of faithful witness—No meat on Ash Wednesday for some expressions of the Christian community—but I’m a Lutheran—free from the law—free to eat the burger of my choice. But I also want to be a faithful witness—but Jesus said not to sound the trumpet—avoid hypocrisy—fast with a happy face making the sacrifice that is meaningful to you and God not the public image. Oh, but I heard the bells in my mind—interrupting a perfectly pleasant lunch—And then the waitress returned for our order—Chris ordered—as she often does—the fish. The waitress turned to me—“And what will you have Father?” The bells kept ringing and ringing.
Lent is an interruption. It is the breaking in to our ordinary routines with the possibility of encountering our God in unexpected forms and places—a neighbor—a friend—a waitress. Even with all that has happened in our country and our lives these past months—the divine encounter is not something that we accept easily. We are an orderly people—as actually most every civilized community strives to be. And we like our faith encounters to be properly scheduled and properly concluded. Sunday is a good time for God—there is not much on television anyway. But Lent suggests that we intentionally accept the possibility that God touches our lives at other then the regularly scheduled holy moments. Jesus actually suggests that the faith strengthening moments might actually be the most unexpected and unplanned—certainly the least publicized. So maybe it is fitting that the mark of the cross we received tonight will not last long on our foreheads—in the dark there will be few who will even notice it—and by tomorrow it will be washed away—like our sins in the waters of baptism. All that will be left is the prophets call for trumpets—and maybe the sound of warning bells in our head—and maybe our heart—warning that God is present in each moment of our lives marked by the blessings of grace. Each time we encounter an interrupted moment—a break from the routine—in that creative instant God is near. Our worship tonight begins unlike any other service all year—it breaks from the routine to remind us that God is near. Yet it also centers in the familiar form of bread and wine to proclaim that God is present. And finally it ends with the uncompleted business of lives still being lived and bells ringing irregularly in our heads to remind us that God’s kingdom is yet to come. Oh yes—I ordered the crab salad croissant—it was very good.
Amen.