August 7, 2016

Helen Jacobi

Ordinary 19     Genesis 15:1-6     Psalm 33:12-22     Hebrews 11:1-3, 8-16     Luke 12:32-40

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“Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen” (Heb 11:1).

The writer of the letter to the Hebrews gives us the best definition of faith you will find in the Bible. It trips nicely off the tongue like a line of poetry. But what does it mean? Well that’s another question.

Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. The word translated here as “assurance” is hypostasis in the Greek and really means something more solid than an “assurance”. It is not like “I assure you the cheque is in the mail”. It means a foundation, or something that is standing under you.

Makes me think of the upright poles in a wharenui – the pou tokomanawa in the centre or the amo panels at the front – often there are carvings of the ancestors and one will be holding up the next one on his or her shoulders and so on as they reach for Ranginui, the sky and heavens above.

So a foundation, or something or someone who is standing under you and holding you up.

Amy Peeler says “If upostasis is something basic, something solid, something firm, then it provides a place to stand from which one can hope.” [1] A place to stand from which we can hope. A place to stand from which we can reach.

Where is your place to stand? It might be a place you love, your home, or somewhere you grew up, somewhere special, your turangawaewae. It might not be a physical place, your place to stand might be with a person or a group of people, your grandmother, your family, a beloved partner, children. Your place to stand might be in your thinking, music, art, or creative work, or day to day, every day work. Your place to stand might be in your spiritual life, your prayer, your sense of the other, your sense of God, your sense of self. And it will probably be a combination of those things and others. Faith, then is about finding this place to stand, and then from this place, hoping and reaching. And what are we reaching and hoping for? In part we are reaching and hoping for “things not seen”; we cannot see God, we cannot see the future. And yet we are told faith is the conviction of things not seen, like evidence in a court room, which is usually pretty tangible. These things not seen will become evident, obvious. Confused?

Joan Chittister says that as we reach and hope, as we act in faith, we destroy the idol that is ourselves. “It is only the deep down belief that we are not the be-all and end-all of the universe that can save us from ourselves. It is the awareness of being part of something vast and intelligent and well-intentioned that gives purpose to life, that leads us to seek beyond the horizons of our smallness to the hope that tomorrow, we can all be better.” [2]

So by looking and seeking beyond ourselves we can begin to see or know the unseen.

By being true to ourselves, knowing on what we stand, we can begin to see or know the unseen.

The example the writer of the letter to the Hebrews gives is that of Abraham and Sarah who felt called to leave their home and travel to a strange land with the promise that their descendants would be like the stars, when they at that stage had no children.

Jesus tells his disciples to be dressed and ready for action, lamps lit, like the servants waiting for their master to return. Live ready and open to what might come; expect God to show up in your life.

We come here this morning hoping to meet with God (as well as each other) and we have tangible signs of God’s love in bread, wine, music, words. God though does not reside in church.

In her book “Grounded” Diana Butler Bass tells a story about going to church on the 10th anniversary of 9/11 in Alexandria. A guest preacher reflects on the anniversary and then begins to talk about the 4,000 people who had died in the war in Iraq and Afghanistan as a result. Diana is confused – 4000? there were tens of thousands, surely – then she realises he is only talking about the Americans who were killed. She writes:

“I gasped audibly. …. Hoping not to make a scene, I slipped out of the pew and left the building. I sat down on the stairs outside, trying to let my sorrow and fury subside.

As I attempted to compose myself, I noticed many people walking around the neighbourhood, far more than usual … they were all heading toward King St … Without a second thought, I followed the crowd.

… it was Art Walk, a yearly festival. Painters, sculptors, weavers … musicians … As I stood on a corner and looked out on the scene, all my senses were alive, coaxed to full attentiveness by vibrant colors, bright chimes in the wind, the cool sound of a saxophone …. children were laughing …. neighbors greeted one another … The energy, the creativity – how wonderful it was! …

My cell phone buzzed. A text message appeared on the screen from my husband. ‘Are you coming back to church?’ ‘I don’t know,’ I texted in reply.

It seemed so obvious right then, but I have no idea why I had never noticed it before. For years, the church kept me safe inside a building. All the while the Spirit was out here on the streets.” [3]

Faith is the assurance of things hoped for and the conviction of things unseen. Faith is within us, around us. We find faith when we find a place to stand, supported by others, and begin to hope. This church is a place that can help us do that – after all we claim here at St Matthew’s to be a spirited place where people stand, connect and seek common ground. [4]

But this church or any church is not what faith is about in the end. Faith is about your life and the way you live it in God’s world, lamp lit, ready for action.

[1] Amy Peeler http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=2943

[2] p11 Uncommon Gratitude Joan Chittister Rowan Williams

[3] Diana Butler Bass Grounded Finding God in the World, A Spiritual Revolution 2015 HarperOne p 235-6

[4] St Matthew’s vision statement