September 5, 2010 - Proper 18, Year C (RCL)
Last year
I had the opportunity
to watch a skilled potter at work.
His workshop is set up with a couple of wheels, and bins of different types of clay,
which he chooses
depending on what he’s making.
He grabs a lump of clay, throws it on the wheel
adds some water, places his hands over it,
and begins to shape it.
First he gets it centered,
then makes a kind of dome,
then begins to push his thumbs down
so that a bowl shape begins to emerge.
Gradually he works the clay between his fingers and thumbs, so that the sides begin to almost magically rise, and as they get taller, he has to use both hands, one inside and one outside the pot,
until he’s up to his elbow in it.
Finally he takes his arm out and uses both hands to gently squeeze the top inwards.
Until finally the wheel stops spinning,
and he carefully cuts the base away from the wheel
and sets it on a rack to dry.
It will be fired later, and then glazed and then fired again
before it is fitted with an electrical cord and lamp fitting and shade
and goes into his shop.
The process seems almost magical. The clay seems to have a life of its own, and the potter is simply guiding it where it already
wants to go.
But I have a vague recollection
that I tried potting once.
The clay felt wonderful in my hands, soft and pliable and just waiting to be made into something beautiful.
And I followed my teacher’s instructions,
and took a lump
and put it on the wheel
and turned the wheel on.
And I put my hands around it
ready to shape it like I’d seen,
and suddenly it was like this living thing under my hands
that didn’t want to do anything that I wanted it to do.
It
was not willing
to be formed into anything. It stayed a stubborn lump, and insisted on gradually sliding away from the center of the wheel, until it risked flying off across the room.
And I know that sometimes, even experts like the one I watched last year
can’t get that clay to do anything.
Sometimes a lump
just wants to stay a lump,
or veers off in some strange lopsided direction
or simply folds in on itself,
so that the only thing the potter can do
is squish it back down,
cut it off the wheel,
and start over.
Sometimes
it’s because the potter is having a bad day,
but often
it’s simply because the clay is too wet
or too dry
or has some sort of impurity in it
that makes it difficult to work.
When God tells the prophet Jeremiah
to go visit the potter,
what Jeremiah sees
is one of those times
when no matter what the potter does,
the lump of clay is determined to remain
a lump.
And so the potter starts over again,
and this time
the clay moulds under his hands
and gradually it grows
into a beautiful, useful
vessel.
And then God says to Jeremiah
that the people of Israel
are like clay,
and God can mould them
into something beautiful, something useful,
or if they aren’t willing to be shaped that way
God can squish them back down
and take the lump of clay off the wheel
and begin over.
You see the problem.
Because, of course, much as clay might seem to have a mind of its own, especially to those of us who are inexperienced with it,
in truth
it’s an inanimate object.
The potter analogy
only goes so far.
God might be like a potter, shaping and remaking God’s people,
but it’s one thing
to throw aside a lump of clay, and start over;
it’s another to throw aside a whole nation,
giving up on them and destroying them.
But it’s not something we haven’t heard before.
Remember two weeks ago?
When Jeremiah
was first called to be a prophet?
The message he was given
was to pluck up and pull down
to destroy and overthrow
and only then
to build and to plant.
And last week, God told Jeremiah, and Jeremiah told the people
more details.
God had led them through the wilderness in safety,
God had given them a land
that was rich and fertile.
God had given the land they were promised,
and promised to be their God.
But they were no longer interested
in being God’s people.
They got what they wanted from God
and then abandoned him,
and turned to other, local, gods
Can you blame God
for warning them
of the consequences
of their actions?
Can you blame God
for saying, “You don’t want to be my people? You don’t want me to be your God?
Well, fine. I’ll stop caring for you, stop protecting you. I’ll look for someone else, some other people
to be my people.
I’ll begin over
again.”
And that time, the people listened.
That time
their king, Josiah, paid attention
and led the nation
in a reformation,
returning them
to not just worshipping God
but living as God
commanded.
But now, King Josiah, has died,
and with him, all the reforms he led.
The new king, Jehoiakim,
is a puppet king, supported by the Egyptians.
And the Egyptians have no interest in supporting
the people following God,
they have no interest in supporting the reforms.
It’s to Egypt’s benefit
for the nation to be weak
and divided.
But not good
for Israel.
And so Jeremiah
is back to his old message.
God warning the people
that if they persist in the way they’ve been living,
if they continue to ignore God,
then they will pay the price. God will abandon them, will bring disaster.
And, if you follow through the analogy of the potter,
God will have to
begin over.
If you’re like me,
this message is not one
you want to hear.
What began as a very benign image, a potter shaping clay into a beautiful vessel
has become an almost frightening one,
the potter taking the half formed vessel and throwing it aside, and beginning again.
God is the judge here, and an angry judge
it seems.
Except that all through it,
there are hints of grace. All through
God keeps saying,
“You have a choice. Turn. Change. Repent.
Be the people
I created to be.
Do this, and I won’t destroy you, I won’t overthrow you.
I want to build, I want to plant. Just return to the faith
of your ancestors.”
But we also have the benefit of hindsight.
We know
that the people as a whole didn’t turn, didn’t repent, didn’t change.
And their country was overthrown,
and they lost everything that they held so dear,
and they lived under foreign occupation for centuries.
But even then, even then,
God was faithful
to those who were faithful.
God kept them,
and shaped them, and led them,
so that by the first century,
there was a temple again in Jerusalem,
and a vibrant worshipping community.
But alongside
God had chosen a new piece of clay, and was forming a new people,
and we are that new people,
formed with Christ at our center.
But the warning still stands.
Because we can’t expect God
to treat us any more leniently than the people of Jeremiah’s time.
If God is the potter, we want to make sure
that we are the clay that is being shaped into beautiful, useful vessels,
rather than the clay that just won’t take the shape
of God’s hands.
And so Jeremiah’s call is to us, to examine ourselves.
Are we turning to God?
Are we living
as God would have us live?
Not just as individuals, but as a society, and as a church.
Have we turned to other gods?
Not Baal or Asherah, as in the Old Testament,
but who or what do we rely on most?
What comes first in our lives? Scripture is clear, from the Ten Commandments on, that it should be GOd.
Not our jobs, not even our families, but God.
And if we put God first, God will take care of
the rest.
Have we turned aside from justice?
What do we do
about the law of Deuteronomy
that tells us to welcome and care for foreigners in our midst?
How do we follow Jesus’ command
to care for the hungry and those who have no clothes, and those in prison?
And have we been obedient to Jesus’ commission to the disciples,
to go and make disciples? When was the last time
you shared your faith with someone?
When was the last time you invited them to church?
How are you passing your faith on to others, whether your peers or the next generation?
They are hard questions,
and if you are like me,
your answers are even harder.
Because few of us
will escape condemnation.
Few of us
are blameless.
But thankfully, these words of Jeremiah are not condemnation
so much as warning.
Take heed. Repent. Change.
And God will be merciful.
God will be merciful,
God will welcome us back,
and forgive us,
and place us on the potters wheel, form us, reshape us.
It might be uncomfortable, even painful at times,
but we can be sure that the work of God in our lives
will, in the end,
make us beautiful, useful, precious
vessels of the grace
of God.
© Raewynne J. Whiteley 2010