The Revolution Will Not Be Televised

The Reverend Seth Ethan Carey

April 14th, 2005

 

First Congregational Church, Glen Ellyn, Illinois

Firstconge.org

630-469-3096

 

Let me tell you about something really absurd.

 

Back in New England, we have pesky little things called blue laws. You may have them here in Illinois, too, but the New England blue laws are notoriously ridiculous. These laws were allegedly codified by our Congregationalist forbears the Puritans, also known as the Pilgrims, or Those Guys In the Funny Hats—you know, the ones with the buckles on them?

 

The original purpose of these blue laws was to preserve the integrity of the Sabbath by legally forbidding certain activities on Sunday. I just so happen to have a few of them here, so you can have some idea of what I mean:

 

No one shall cross a river on the Sabbath but authorized clergymen. For anyone who may be wondering, that’s actually why I became a minister. With job perks like that, how could I resist?

 

No one shall be allowed to sell or purchase alcoholic beverages on the Sabbath.

 

No one shall eat mince pies, dance, play cards, or play any instrument of music except the drum, trumpet, or Jew’s harp.

 

I realize that the puritans were strict, God-fearing folk. But what do they have against mincemeat pies?

 

Anyway, I’m sure you get the idea. Now, while these laws might have been appropriate at the time they were written—and I have my doubts about that—they have clearly not stood the test of time. The phrase “hopelessly obsolete” comes to mind. And yet—and this is the really absurd thing that I promised to tell you—in New England, and no doubt in other places, many of these laws are still on the books. And some of them are still enforced.

 

***

 

Things change. People change. Places change. And the world at large changes with them. At least, it's supposed to.

 

But what about God? Does God change? The traditional belief is that God does not change. According to traditional Christian doctrine, God is eternal and unchanging.

 

After much thinking, praying, and research, I agree that God does not change. That is, God’s nature remains unchanging and eternal. But God does continue to speak. In the United Church of Christ, we don’t like to limit God’s word to an ancient scripture. God’s word is in there, but it’s continually unfolding. We choose to believe in something dynamic, something alive, something that continues to grow. Or, as we like to say, “Never place a period where God has placed a comma,” because God is still speaking. And “there is yet more light and truth to break forth from God’s Holy Word.”

 

Which is precisely why Jesus is such a revolutionary—because He comes to Earth to bring us all up to speed on God’s latest insights—insights that may seem to contradict God’s earlier ideas. It’s very telling that God doesn’t send us a messiah that simply tells us all to keep up the good work, to maintain the status quo. No, God sends us an iconoclast who, oddly enough, attempts to reform God’s own laws.

 

Jesus is always depicted with that same white robe, that same beard, those same sandals, like one of those predictable cartoon characters that never changes his clothes, like Popeye or Speed Racer or the gang from Scooby Doo. But in reality, Jesus is a dynamic figure. And He’s anything but stale. Jesus changes things.

 

Now, there is some debate as to the extent to which Jesus tries to change the old Jewish laws found of the Old Testament that was handed down from God to Moses, and in turn from Moses to the Jewish people. Some believe that Jesus is in fact a loyal adherent to the law, but our passage this morning makes a strong case against that idea. Here, we see Jesus at His most defiant, His most revolutionary. 

 

The Pharisees, who were basically the ruling priestly class in Jewish society at the time, were an extremely legalistic group—not unlike the Puritans. But when they start harassing Jesus and His Disciples for not washing their hands before they eat, an act that was strictly against the law of Moses, Jesus tells them to get off His back and go bother someone else.

 

After turning their own arguments against them and calling them a bunch of hypocrites, he turns to address the crowds that have gathered and tells them all to ignore the Pharisees and their law, asserting that it is not what goes into a person’s mouth that defiles a person, but the slanderous, sinful, and nasty things that come out. Apparently, Jesus has no qualms about eating mincemeat pies on the Sabbath.

 

***

 

The Christian Church was essentially founded by a volatile figure, by a man who tore down as much as He built. As such, it’s no surprise that in spite of its best intentions, in spite of its hope for unity and stability, Christianity has been in a state of flux for two thousand years. Certain early traditions, such as Baptism and Holy Communion, have managed to stay alive—but even these have undergone drastic changes over the millennia.

 

Ours is an unstable religion. And to that I say, “Thank God.”

 

The Congregational Church has had its ups and downs over the years, but personally I like to think that it’s been moving in the right direction. I mean, if nothing ever changed, we’d all still be wearing those funny Pilgrim hats. And I’d get up here every Sunday, because Lillian wouldn’t be here, since back in those days women weren’t ordained. I’d get up here—with my powdered wig—and I’d give you hellfire and brimstone sermons week after week, and I’d tell you all that if you don’t like it, then you’re going to go straight to Hell. Because that was what a lot of preachers did, back then.

 

Now, while that would probably make my job a whole lot easier—and might even be kind of fun, in a twisted sort of way—I think that worshipping God in such a manner is like eating stale bread. 

 

There comes a time to move on. There comes a time to listen to what else God has to say.

 

***

 

In Martin Scorcese’s controversial film The Last temptation of Christ, Jesus has another showdown with the Pharisees. Now, this is hardly authoritative scripture, but it offers an interesting interpretation. When the Pharisees ask Jesus if He thinks that God no longer affirms the old law, Jesus replies, “No, that’s not it…God just thinks that our hearts are ready to hold a little bit more, that’s all.”

 

What an amazing response. Our hearts are just ready to hold a little bit more.

 

When we view things in this light, we realize that maybe God doesn’t send Jesus to destroy, or even reform the old law. God sends Jesus to continue the sentence— “Never place a period where God has placed a comma.” If we accept the old law as only part of the sentence, then it makes no sense on its own. But as part of a larger framework, a fuller history, it is given a context and meaning.

 

But what does all of this ancient legal wrangling mean for us today? Put simply, God's sentence is still unfolding. The United Church of Christ recently launched the “God is Still Speaking” campaign, an inclusive marketing program based on this very principle, designed to invite people who feel marginalized by the Church for one reason or another into the UCC. The backbone of this movement is a series of TV commercials that assures people, “No matter who you are, no matter where you are on life’s journey, you are welcome here.” While controversial, it has been a reasonably successful campaign thus far.

 

But as the musician Gil Scott Heron said in his infamous civil rights anthem, “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised.”

 

Or in other words, TV commercials do not a revolution make. The TV commercials are important, but they’re only the beginning. They can’t finish the sentence. Only God can do that. And it will only make a difference if we’re listening. Of course, even if we’re listening, we might very well hear different things. We might share different beliefs. But we don’t have to agree with one another to be in fellowship with one another.

 

This is, at its core, what the United Church of Christ and its television commercials are all about—the individual's liberty of conscience. And, after ten minutes of rambling about church history, it finally brings me to the crux of this sermon.

 

You.

 

What does all of this mean for you?

 

It means that you are free. Free to think for yourself. Free to believe what feels right in your heart. Free to eat mincemeat pie, dance, and play cards on the Sabbath—if that’s your kind of thing. And you’re free to forgo those activities, if you don’t think God would approve.

 

But it also means that you are free to change. Free to keep speaking. Free to do more than watch the revolution on TV, or read about it in the Bible. The revolution will not be televised. The revolution will be live.

 

That means that you make it happen—with the help of God, of course. And there are two ways to make it happen: You can work to change the world around you, and you can work to change your own life. Eventually, given enough time, both of these things will have to change.

 

My charge to you—and to myself—this morning is to take an active role in that change. But the form that the revolution will take for you is not for me to say. Change may come with overcoming an addiction. It may come with a heightened social awareness, or a deeper prayer life. It may come with recovery from an illness, the birth of a child, involvement with a new social organization, a new ministry within our church, a new job, or a new ideology. The choice is yours.

 

Changing your life, changing the world, isn’t like changing the channel on TV.  It’s hard. And it doesn’t happen overnight. But it’s something that we need to struggle with. If you don’t want to struggle with change, then that's your prerogative too.

 

But seeing as today is the Sabbath, you probably shouldn’t cross any rivers on the way home.

 

Amen