A sermon by Senior Minister John B. McCall, June 1, 2008
Matthew 7:21-26
You’ve probably heard the term “100-year flood” or “100-year storm” tossed around. It was used a lot following Hurricane Katrina. And just a month ago, experts declared the flooding of the St. John River in Fort Kent to be at that 100-year level. Engineers began to use the term in the early 1950’s to talk about certain risks. It means that something is built well enough that it will stand through wind or rain or flood or risk 99 times out of 100… a one percent chance of failure.
Theoretically it’s possible to build a bridge or levee or church steeple to last for centuries – Maybe a 1000 years rather than 100. Think of European cathedrals, or the Western Wall in Jerusalem, or the pyramids.
But cost is an obstacle. We can’t afford to build everything to last like the pyramids. So experts decide what’s good enough – they balance the durability on the one hand, and the cost on the other. And then they hope the 100-year storm doesn’t happen in their life time or in their back yard.
Maybe that’s what Jesus was talking about in his story of the wise man and the foolish man who built good solid houses but placed them in two very different locations. The wise man wisely built his house on the solid rock; the foolish man stupidly built on the sands. Then the storms came and the winds blew and the waters rose. The house on the rock stood firm and solid. The house on the sand was washed away.
Jesus’ listeners knew what he was talking about. He was describing a sandy dry river bed called a wadi [wa-dee]. In Palestine there might be 50 or 51 weeks of dry, hot weather. The ground is parched and hard. It’s hard to imagine there would ever be water there in the barren wilderness. But then in the spring there come dramatic down-pours and the water finds its way to the old riverbeds and comes racing down the face of the mountain and washes away everything in its path.
If you’re naïve you might build a fine house in a hazardous place. Then you’re in for a terrible surprise. Think of Camp Ellis or the cliff-side houses in Malibu. Think of the mansions on the San Andreas fault or the disastrous storm in Myanmar or the aftermath of the terrible earthquake and flooding in China. Or even New Orleans.
So we build and we hope. Sometimes we calculate our risks and decide how well we can tolerate the threat of the inevitable storm or flood. But if it’s good enough to stand 99 years out of a hundred we just hope and pray we’re out of harm’s way before the Big One hits.
Of course, this was a parable. Jesus wasn’t talking about houses at all. He was using his amazing gift of story-telling to remind his listeners that we can easily build our lives on shifting sands rather than on the firm foundation of the rock.
He said – you can use a lot of fancy words that sound like they’re faith-filled. You can say Master-this and Lord-that and impress everyone around you. But that’s like building on sand. Real faith isn’t fancy words; it’s actions and deeds.
I think Jesus’ reminder here speaks to us on two different levels.
The first is on a personal, individual level. Each of us is given the raw materials to build a life. How we build it, and how we lay a foundation, varies from one to another.
Our thoughts and feelings, our convictions and claims of faith are a good first step, but they can’t be enough. As we assemble our lives in faith We have to live what we believe.
Think about the three people whom you, our members, have elected to join the ranks of lifetime Elders. We select Elders based on their length of active service and their demonstrated commitment to the church. The people we honor are builders – they contribute to our well-being as a community and they find the truth that active life in the church is a win-win… the individual benefits and the church benefits.
Secondly, Jesus reminds us that following him means being part of the community, part of something much bigger than simply demanding what I want. Together, he calls us to build the church on solid rock.
Remember the story of the man came to a construction site, where stonemasons were working. He said to one, “What are you doing?” The stonemason said, “You can see, I’m chipping a stone.”
He said to another, “What are you doing?” And the second stone cutter said “I’m building a wall.”
The man walked over to a third mason and said, “What are you doing?” This mason answered, “I am building a cathedral to the glory of God.”
Building a solid, sturdy community is often hard work, isn’t it? It’s easy to spout fancy words and not live them out. It’s easy to make membership promises and then drift away because other things may be more fun or more engaging than the serious work of being the church.
It’s easy to say “No matter who you are or where you are on life’s journey, you’re welcome here,” and then to ignore the person next to you in the pew.
Building something solid and lasting on the rock takes the whole community working together – you and me and God, new members and 50-year members, deeply faithful followers, and tripping, stumbling questioners.
But I believe we are becoming more and more a church where we pay attention to each other and take care of each other, and where no one needs to be on guard or defensive because of who we are or how we dress or whether we know which hymnal is which or how to make sense of this guy Jesus and all he teaches us.
For 274 years our congregation has gathered here on Meetinghouse Hill and, by the grace of God, we have built a church – not just a building but a church – on the solid rock.