Written on May 23, 2008

[For the June 1, 2008 lectionary: Matthew 7:21-29]

"SAND OR ROCK" by Larry Patten

I write this while at the edge of a continental shelf.

My wife and I are in a coastal village almost three driving hours away from Fresno. We left a few days ago and the late morning temperature was already in the 90s. One of the jokes about Fresno, about the Central Valley of California, is that the seasonal heat is “a dry heat.” Little humidity. Hey, hot is hot.

Twenty miles from the coast and it was still hot.

Ten miles. Still hot.

In the final few miles, as we neared the ocean, the temperature plunged forty degrees. This is a different world. Fog. Low clouds. Roads abruptly ending “at the edge of the world.” It is a land of rock and sand.

In the conclusion of the so-called Sermon on the Mount, Jesus cautioned about building the “house” of faith on rock versus sand. It is one of the most obvious analogies in the Bible and in all of faith.

The analogy was demonstrated with coastal real estate. Where are the most desirable homes built? Next to the ocean. Some of the houses we tramped by were in a constant battle with the elements. Steel and concrete were strategically positioned to support a foundation. Massive poles were driven deep into solid rock. Literally a few feet away, the waves rolled in. Pounding. Back and forth, every minute, every hour.

Houses, high-priced mansion or ramshackle old cottage, each vying for the best sunset view, crowd on rock.

Below, the sand shifts. Waves crash.

Here, it was unavoidable to understand why Jesus said what he said.

The oceanic land of rock and sand is a gorgeous, edgy environment. And so fragile. Look around! See beauty in the windswept pine trees. Marvel at the harbor seals swimming in a cove. Watch a flight of pelicans hug the shoreline, searching for food. Everywhere there is beauty and strength. Everywhere there is fragility and tenderness.

And the waves keep pounding the shore.

In the last words of the Sermon on the Mount, after the rock and sand warnings, the comment is made that Jesus, unlike the scribes, “taught with authority.”

Once I memorized the entire Sermon on the Mount, all three chapters in Matthew, and used it for an Easter sermon. It takes about twenty minutes to read/preach the words. Time-wise, it is an acceptable length for modern congregations to “handle.”

And yet, word-wise and authority-wise, it is tough going.

After my sermon, a visitor accosted me, visibly angry, declaring if sermons like that were preached, she was not coming back to this church. While I had done all the rights things about letting people know that I was preaching Jesus’ “exact” words, it was clear that she had ignored my pre-sermon preparation and didn’t believe my post-sermon explanations.

She simply didn’t like what I had said. As I recall, her primary concern had to do with the verses about divorce. Go ahead, read this earlier part of Matthew (5:31-32). Jesus doesn’t mince words.

Ironically, the following Sunday I planned to preach a sermon explaining and elaborating on some of the Sermon on the Mount’s more difficult passages. I invited her back for next Sunday.

No way. She was out the door.

As a person who has been through a divorce, Jesus’ words profoundly once and still challenge me.

I need explanation and elaboration. Of course, those statements on divorce are far from the most intimidating verses found in the three chapters.

Turn the other cheek. Happy are those who mourn. Forgive. Beware the redwood tree in your own eye. The words making up the verses are beautiful. And they are so hard to live out in day-to-day life. The coast is stunning. But I watch the interplay of sea and sand, rock and wind. This beautiful place is fragile.

Matthew said Jesus spoke with authority. How true. How difficult. In much of my ministry, I’ve been like the scribes, preaching from the twenty-first century pulpit and making sure my words don’t offend, disturb, or anger anyone.

Every day, Gospel-wise, we are walking on the edge of the continent, which may be with a stranger you meet at the supermarket or with your child as they face their first trauma. People go through divorces, mourn, refuse to forgive, judge others, and are afraid to turn the other cheek. We need the words of authority. Sand or rock?

in Peace,

Larry