Getting in touch with what
was meaningful in the lives of our predecessors
The portion of
the Psalm that we opened worship with today came from a
time period in which the Israelites were reflecting upon
the years when they were living in a strange land. When
the Babylonian empire marched through their country,
they took with them the cream of Israelite society and
repopulated them into their own nation.
Life for the Israelites in
Babylon was far from difficult. At the time, this was a
prosperous people with all the latest, the newest and
best. The land was fertile and the economy flourished.
The Israelites were not treated like slaves, but rather
were allowed to be involved in all aspects of business,
live in nice homes and develop their own communities.
What was difficult was that
their faith for centuries had been deeply rooted in
their promised land and the house in which their God had
promised to live with them - the temple in Jerusalem.
All the prophets who spoke during this time had reminded
them of the oneness of the their past, present, and
future in the covenant. So, in the face of all the
luxuries that surrounded them, it is a tribute to
Israel's enduring solidarity with their homeland that
their faith not only survived, but emerged stronger and
deepened by their experience.
What Israel discovered during
their exile in another land was that they could worship
anywhere in confidence that their God would hear their
prayers. The concept of synagogues probably came out of
this time. It is a Greek word that literally means
gathering together. And, it comes from a similar
derivation of our word synod which means walking
together. They discovered that anytime they gathered
together as a people, God would be there.
And, so it was for our ancestors
who settled this land. They came out of the Holy Roman
Empire in a time in which they had experienced the
hardships of the years following the religious and
dynastic wars that came out of the Reformation and the
development of the European states similar to what we
know today. They had forsaken their homeland because of
increased taxes, devastating crops caused by drought.
Most economic opportunities for them and their children
had been closed. So they came, lured on by promises of a
better life. Initially they headed for Pennsylvania, but
as most of you know the proprietors of Maryland offered
huge tracts of land for a penny an acre and the road
through Creagerstown was the highway upon which they all
traveled.
And, like most Europeans, they
came from lands where religious institutions were firmly
established by the state, and churches stood like
castles in every town and village. But in this new land
there was nothing. These people came with a Bible, a
hymn book, and Luther's catechism. And, although they
were scattered over large distances, they all longed to
gather together to meet their spiritual needs, babies
needed to be baptized, young people to be married, the
dead to be buried. They wanted to worship, they wanted
hear a sermon and they wanted receive communion. And so
they painstakingly pulled their resources and their time
to build the log church known as Monocacy. It is the
oldest of the three first recorded in Maryland. Its
membership came by wagon and horseback from areas we now
know as Taneytown, Emmitsburg, the Glades, Frederick,
Mount Pleasant, Liberty, and the Catoctin Mountains.
This phenomenon was happening
all over the colonial territories. Over mile after mile
of rough roads, the people came to worship. The few
pastors that existed in the beginning traveled even
greater distances, often enduring great hardships, to
meet the needs of many such gatherings.
Of course, the log church is
long gone. And as the population grew, its membership
area divided and divided forming many more small
churches with less distance to travel. But initially it
divided into Frederick and Creagerstown. These two
gatherings of God's people gave families places of
support and community, of faith and worship in stressful
times of growth for our nation in its early years. The
church building we dream of restoring is a continuing
testimony to the faith story of your great, great
ancestors who were once strangers in a strange land but
now call this home.
So, why restore something that
is, on the surface, an empty shell and a ghost of what
it once was? We could ask the Israelites the same
question. Why did they long to return home when they had
more luxuries in this new land? Why did they stream out
as one people when they were eventually released? Why
did this Psalm sing of restoring their fortunes - when
they went home to Jerusalem instead of living in the
land of opulence? Why did they rejoice in rebuilding the
temple that lay in ruins? For them it was a symbol of
God's presence. It was for them a source of life.
There is something very valuable
about being able to return to the place of your origins
- to your roots - and finding it still alive and
vibrant. It keeps dreams flourishing and instills energy
when one's personal faith is wavering. It helps many
believe in themselves again. The scriptures themselves
talk about being part of the vine and what it is like to
be separated from the root.
I happened to time my arrival at
the church on Friday just right. There was a
two-generation family parked in front of the church.
They had been wandering around outside the buildings and
walking through the cemetery. The younger husband and
wife live in Florida but made returning to this church
complex one of their vacation stops. The older couple
lives in Thurmont, but the gentleman remembers going to
church here long, long ago. Is it just sentimentality
that brings people home? Why all the genealogical
research, tracing family trees that people are doing
again? I remember hating all the begets in the books of
the Bible. And yet now I know the value of getting in
touch with what was meaningful in the lives of my
predecessors.
Read other
sermons by Pastor Joan
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