Epiphany 4:
“Do Not Say ‘Only’”
Jeremiah 1.4-10
1/28/07
The
first lesson this morning is a great favorite of mine. It is the story of the
call of Jeremiah the prophet, chosen by God to bring his word to Judah. He was
an unlikely choice, as he himself knew. He was just a young man, an
inarticulate boy, and yet the Lord chose him—chose him, it says, before he was
even formed in the womb.
Now
what I love best about the story is Jeremiah’s reluctance. That is not uncommon
in the Bible, but here it is very clear cut: “Ah, Lord God! Truly I do not know
how to speak, for I am only a boy.” If ever there were three powerfully negative
words, they are right here: “I am only.” When you speak those words, you limit
yourself so completely that it is difficult to escape. But God steps in, and
says to Jeremiah: “Do not say, ‘I am
only.’”
I
think that Luther meant something like that in the Small Catechism’s explanation of the Creed. “I believe that God has
created me, and all that exists!” You
see, if God created me, I cannot say, “I am only. . .”! I am a creation of God! I do not deserve it,
that’s true: but God has made me who I am, and I need not be ashamed or afraid.
God made me, and I am important to him. I am so important, in fact, that Jesus
Christ is “my Lord, who at great cost has saved and redeemed me, freed me from
sin, death and the power of the devil—not with silver or gold, but with his
holy and precious blood and his innocent suffering and death . . . so that I
may be his own.” If this is most
certainly true, I cannot ever say “I am only...”!
Here’s
a great story—probably it falls under the category of “urban legend,” but it’s
a great story nonetheless, one of those stories that, if it isn’t true, it
should be! A little boy, oh, perhaps seven or eight years old, was just a
beginner on the piano. His mother read that the great pianist Paderewski was
playing a concert in their city that evening, and thinking it would be a good
way to inspire her son, she bought front row tickets for him, for herself and
for a friend. As grown-ups will sometimes do, she got to visiting with her
friend and forgot all about the boy. When the house lights came down and the
stage lights came up, she was astonished to see that her son had slipped out of
his seat and was sitting at the Steinway on stage picking out, with one finger,
“Twinkle, twinkle little star.” She started to run up to get him off the stage,
when out strode Paderewski. Taking one look at the boy, he quickly walked to
the piano, stood behind the boy and whispered in his ear: “Don’t stop playing.”
Then, as the boy plunked out his childish melody, the great pianist reached
around him with his left hand and began to formulate an intricate bass; and
with his right hand, he produced a sparkling counterpoint to the boy’s melody. There
they were, the master and the boy, playing wonderful music together.
And so it is that God says to us: “Do not say, ‘I am
only. . .’ I will play with you, and
together we will be great.” And then he puts his arms around us and we make music!
“I
am only. . .”—those are words that lead to defeat and despair, reflecting an
attitude that will lead you nowhere but away from God. God made you! God has a
great purpose for you! And he will tell you what it is, call it out of you.
James
D. Bell, associate dean of the business school at Southwest State University,
tells this story:
It
was noon, in the South. It was summer, it was hot, and two men were working in
a railroad yard, swinging eight pound sledgehammers, driving spikes into
railroad ties. An engine with one very fancy car came through the yard, slowed
and stopped next to them. A window in the car came down, and a man stuck his
head out of the window and said, “Charlie, is that you?” Charlie put down his hammer. “Joe! I haven’t
seen you in . . .” “Twenty-five years,”
the other man said, finishing the sentence.
“Come on inside and let’s visit.” The man in the yard wiped the sweat
from his body, pulled on his T-shirt, and went into the car. About a half-hour later, he came out of the
car. He and Joe shook hands, saying “Great to see you!” The car slowly pulled
away, and Joe leaned out of the window again: “Let’s keep in touch!” Then the
car disappeared down the track.
Charlie’s
co-worker who had been left swinging the hammer alone for that half hour said, “My
gosh, Charlie, that was the president of the railroad! How do you know him!” Charlie replied, “We started to work
together 25 years ago right here in the yard.” “You mean the president of the
railroad started out here, swinging a sledgehammer?” “That’s right.” “Then how
come he’s the president, and you’re still out here in the yard?” “Well,” Charlie replied, “twenty-five years
ago, I came to work for $1.25 an hour. But he came to work for the railroad.”
You
see, the person who says “I am only . . .” is the one who has a very limited
view of himself, his value, his future.
But when you see your place in God’s plan; when you see the greatness
that God asks of you, and seeks in you, and sees in you . . . then there can be
no limit to what you can do, and what God can do with you. Do not say, “I am
only . . .”
But
you know, there’s another phrase that is every bit as destructive. We don’t
quite get it in our gospel lesson today, but close. It is the phrase, “He is
only . . .” Isn’t that what the people
of Nazareth say about Jesus? “He is only a carpenter’s son; why should we
listen to him?” When you say “He is only,” or “She is only,” you see, you close
off the possibilities of learning something important from someone else.
This
year marks the 20th anniversary of Interfaith Food Ministry, the
local food ministry that Peace and more than a dozen other local churches
support. Some years ago Bill Barger, at that time the president of the group,
told a great story. There was an older
woman here in town who, every year around November, used to call IFM to arrange
a thousand dollar gift. Sometimes it
was in cash, more often she had arranged some excellent produce buys that made
the gift worth considerably more than a thousand dollars. She did this for many
years. One year when she called, Bill made a comment about wanting to be sure
she got a receipt so she could take it off her income tax. “Oh no,” she said, “I don’t make enough
money to pay any income tax.”
Now
you could look at a person like this and think, “Oh, she’s only an old woman. What
kind of ministry or service could she offer?” But she didn’t look at herself in
that way, and that’s why she was able to give, why she found it a privilege to
give to help those who are in need.
Now
I don’t know about you, but for me it is very easy to dismiss people. “He’s
only a salesperson.” “She’s only a bureaucrat.” “She’s only . . . he’s
only . . .” Sounds a lot like “He’s only a carpenter’s son,” doesn’t it? Some years Richard Carlson wrote a book
called Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff, and
it’s all small stuff. One of his
suggestions is particularly good: Whenever you are irritated at someone, or
having trouble dealing with someone, he suggests thinking about this: “What am
I supposed to be learning from this person?” In that way, you shift your
negative thinking in a more positive direction, and see the person not as an
irritation or annoyance or even enemy, but as someone who is important to you
because they are teaching you a lesson. Imagine if the people of Nazareth had
said that about Jesus—if, instead of “He’s only a carpenter’s son,” it had
been, “What am I supposed to be learning from him?” Boy, wouldn’t that have
made a difference in their lives!
And
isn’t that change in perception really getting at what Paul talks about in our
second lesson today? “Love is patient.
Love is kind. Love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude.” Love
is, when you come down to it, treating everyone and regarding everyone as if
they have something to give you, to teach you, something that is very important
to your happiness. Love means never saying, “She is only . . .” or “He is only .
. .”
Two
phrases which should both be banished! “I am only. . .” “He or she is only . . .” In their place, perhaps that image of
Paderewski and the boy, and the strong sense that with the Master’s arms around
us, every one of us, each person of us, can give something wonderful to the
world.
Notes:
Paderewski story, see, e.g., http://www.usc.edu/dept/polish_music/PaderewskiLectures.html
James Bell, "Working
and Living," Vital Speeches of the Day 63 (April 15, 1997), 413.
Richard Carlson, Don’t
Sweat the Small Stuff—and It’s All Small Stuff, Hyperion (New York, 1997).