A Heap of Trust

Genesis 31:43-50; Matthew 8:1-4

Robert M Watkins

July 8, 2007

 

Jacob and his father-in-law Laban were made for each other. Both were slicker than used car salesmen in Las Vegas and both repeatedly attempted to outdo one another in their stormy relationship, always seeking to gain the upper hand and to take full advantage of the other. They battled over flocks of sheep and Laban’s daughters to the point where it became obvious to all involved that they would never be able to coexist within the same time zone. It was time for a move. But as they get ready to depart from one another, they decide to make a covenant, a solemn promise, to stay away from each other, to remain firmly fixed in their own territory. The symbol for their vow would be a heap of stones. Anyone passing by would have a visible reminder of what had happened and what the expectations would be from that moment onward. That is how deeply the flow of distrust ran between the two men.

 

And that is just pitiful.

 

The sad thing is that this passage of scripture contains one of my favorite biblical benedictions:

May the Lord watch between you and me while we are absent from one another.

I love to think about that verse when my family is separated by travel or work—God is watching over us while we are absent. God is present even when we can’t be. That is such a comforting thought.

 

But the truth is that it has nothing at all to do with the actual verse itself. As the story makes clear, Laban intones this particular benediction because he wants Jacob to know that even if old Laban isn’t around to watch out for Jacob’s next trick, scam, or crime; God will be. The further truth is that Jacob could just as easily have invoked the same word back at Laban. These two men are far removed from any sense of sentiment about who they are to each other.

 

Families aren’t supposed to operate at this level. Heck, even strangers should not have to act like this.

 

But it would be naïve to think it doesn’t happen. In fact, a quick glance through the headlines reveals that Laban and Jacob are out there by the thousands. A quick spin through the neighborhood reveals the same sad truth—we have a hard time trusting one another. It wasn’t that long ago when no one had an alarm system.

 

The result is that we grow estranged from one another. Rather than approach each other with openness and unguardedly, we do so warily and ready to react quickly to the least sign of malfeasance. It even infects life in our most sacred institutions—we smirk at politicians, civic leaders, schools, and even within the Church—certain that even in these places, we won’t have to dig too deeply to find that all is not as it seems nor as it should be. Go to a Presbytery meeting and feel it as the churches seem sure the office is doing something, and vice versa.

 

As Presbyterians, we have always acknowledged and accepted that human beings are imperfect. We accept the truth that left to ourselves, we all run amok like Jacob and Laban. John Calvin, our theological founder, declared human beings Totally Depraved—not very optimistic was he? But also as Presbyterians, we have acknowledged that it does not have to remain so, that there is an alternative, and perhaps even a way to reclaim Laban’s benediction, not as a statement of our being lost, but as an affirmation of the wonder of God’s presence among us.

 

Once as Jesus made his way through the countryside, a leper approached him. He begged for Jesus to touch him and make him well. He held nothing back in his pleading. So great was his trust in Jesus’ abilities, he made a fool of himself to get Jesus to respond to him.

 

What was the leper acting on? What gave him the ability to become an example of blind trust?

 

The quick response is that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God. It is ridiculous to even contemplate that anyone could possibly distrust the Messiah.

 

Yes, but…

 

Yes, but the leper had no reason, no history, no tradition, and no church to tell him and teach him all about the love of Jesus as the revealed love of God. Put yourself firmly in the leper’s context. At that moment, all anyone knew of Jesus was that he was an unaffiliated rabbi, a wandering teacher who stood apart from the Church who seemed to have a mystical connection to God and access to God’s power that boggled the mind. At the time, there was no consensus about where that power came from—Jesus might well be a magician, or even worse, a complete charlatan, preying on the needy, making promises he really couldn’t keep. Remember, none of the elements of his origin matched the expected coming of a Savior sent by God (that is why the gospels make such enormous stretches to tie Jesus into the prophetic utterances of old). To see Jesus as the person Jesus claimed to be, one would have to trust him, make a leap of faith that really and truly is beyond the scope of reason.

 

So what gave the man the power to make that leap?

 

Here we encounter the very core of faith. When all is said and done, faith is trust. Emil Brunner was a 20^th Century theologian noted for his ability to take profound theological constructs and make them utterly simple. His definition of belief is worth pondering—belief is:

1.      Faith—believing history to reveal the acts of God with and for human beings.

2.      Hope—believing that what history teaches us about God holds promise for the future.

3.      Love—living now in and through trust that faith and hope are true.

The leper has heard what Jesus has done and risks everything in the hope that Jesus will be so for him. In short order, he trusts Jesus with his whole being, staking his life on Jesus being who he believes him to be.

 

Well, this is all well and good for our relationship to God. God is God, after all, worthy of trust because in Christ, God revealed himself to be completely trustworthy. But that still leaves us with each other. How could trusting God be relevant in that arena?

 

Because Laban asked for God to be present with himself and Jacob. In making that request, Laban transcends both his character (or lack thereof) and Jacob’s. If God condescends to enter the fray, there is hope that the two old rivals actually will be able to get along. Laban trusts God in the same belief that fires the hope and imagination of the leper. God will be able to do what neither he nor Jacob have been able to do—watch over their actions and wills in such a way that they will stop hurting each other.

 

If we trust God in the same manner, there is hope for us. Many of us are familiar with AA and its Twelve Step program for healing. A major step in the process is acknowledging the presence of God, a Higher Power, namely because we know all too well our own inability to save ourselves and our propensity to give ourselves over to whatever promises to make the way easier, even if all it can really do is destroy us--there is Calvin’s depravity all over again--but in coming to God, we find reason to hope because God is watching over us, and if we take seriously that oversight, then there is hope that we can trust each other because if we acknowledge God, then we will check our behavior and hopefully, surely, not hurt each other. Further, it means we can risk opening ourselves to each other because even if we get hurt, God will be there to mend us.

 

A light shines in the darkness, a path in from the wilderness of angst and despair presents itself.

 

Follow that path and we find freedom, the freedom to trust one another enough to love one another, the freedom to be who God intends for us to be.

 

That is good news.

 

Amen.