God Talks: The Lie. A Story Sermon written and
told by Rev. Steven Schafer on July 6, 2014 at Mt.
Hope. Texts: I Kings 8: 45-50 and Luke 15: 3-10.
Being a minister's kid isn't all it's cracked up to
be. Yes, you get an intimate look into what your
father (or mother) does for a living - more intimate
than just about any other profession. You are known
by a couple hundred people in the church. That's
kind of cool - sometimes. Sometimes you'd like to be
anonymous like everyone else, but you don't get that
option. You feel a tremendous pressure to be
publicly good all the time. That works if you ARE
good by nature but if you have an ornery streak
running through you, that pressure can be
unbearable. And, let's be honest, what kid doesn't
have an ornery streak if they are normal? That's why
the stereotypical P.K. (preacher's kid) is a hellion.
But Gideon was good by nature. He never felt the
need to rebel nor to act out because of the glass
house he lived in. He liked the people at the church
and they, in turn, liked him. He had a few friends in
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high school who were P.K.'s but they were of the
other ilk. They were rebellious. They disliked the
church. They were not necessarily anti-God but they
certainly were anti- organized religion. The
difference had a bit to do with their personalities, but
more, I think, to do with their pastor parent and the
people in the church. Gideon's father and mother
didn't expect him to be especially good - or, at least,
not good for the sake of his father's reputation in the
church. And the great people at St. Ann's simply
expected him to be a kid like everyone else.
When Gideon was in high school he had a friend
named Celia. Celia was not his girl friend but she
was, probably, his closest friend. They did things
together, they talked about everything. They had
tons of common interests. Celia, like Gideon, grew
up at St. Ann's. They had played at the church
nursery sand table together as toddlers so had
known one another, literally, all their lives.
Celia was a budding artist. This was one area the
two didn't share. Gideon couldn't draw a straight line.
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But he did encourage her at every turn. She was into
photography and carried her camera everywhere.
Gideon was always astounded by what she took
pictures of - sometimes the most mundane of
objects. But when she did a bit of editing and printed
them off, they were incredible images. He had seen
a rusty old hinge on a barn door once. She took a
picture of that old hinge, feathered the edges of the
photo in Photoshop, printed it in sepia, and turned it
into an amazing piece of art. Celia had the eye of an
artist. Of that there was no doubt.
Celia was getting ready for the Fargo art show.
She had been taking pictures of just about
everything for months. She had decided to focus her
attention, for this show, on faces. She took pictures
of the faces of babies and friends and craggy faced
old people. She went out to one of the reservations
in western North Dakota and photographed native
Americans. She took photos of the homeless and
beggars along the street and wealthy businessmen
and little children. She had quite a variety and, as
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might be expected, each one was a wonderful study
of the human spirit. Faces are so wonderful when
seen through the lens of a true artist.
The art show in Fargo would accept a maximum
of three submissions for judging from any one artist.
Celia chose the three she thought best told the
stories of her subject's lives. She chose one she
called "The Magnificat" - a woman who must
certainly have been nearly nine months pregnant large with child, holding her belly, with the most
serene and angelic look on her face. The second
one was of a boy with his father. They were laughing
at something out of the camera's view. They were
laughing hilariously. It was impossible to look at the
wondrous joy in those faces without smiling
yourself. She named that one simply "Contagious
Laughter."
The third one was of a man with an unlit cigarette
hanging out of his mouth in a tattered tee shirt. He
looked, somehow, frightened. The reason was
unclear. There was no apparent danger the viewer
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could see. There was a family in the background.
They were a bit out of focus, but you could see they
were curious as to what was going on. This one she
titled "Desperation."
All three were some of Celia's best photographs.
She was sure one of them would win the photo
segment of the competition. She just wasn't sure
which one. It depended, she supposed, on the
judge's temperament on judging day or something
else equally as subjective and uncontrollable.
Celia had the photos printed portrait size and she
framed them nicely. She and Gideon would drive
them down to Fargo the next morning to submit
them. That evening, as Gideon was getting ready for
bed, his mother came into the room. "Mr. Gideon..."
God said.
"Oh, hi mom. What's up, God?"
"Don't be flip with me, son," God said.
"Sorry."
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"Mr. Gideon, I know that your friend, Celia, is
about to submit a few photos to the art show in
Fargo tomorrow. I want you to stop her from
submitting the one titled, "Desperation." No matter
what, she should not submit that picture."
"Why? Oh, I'm sorry... just a reflex response. I
know you're not going to tell me."
"Don't let her submit it....." "All ready for bed,
Gideon? I'm glad you're getting to bed early - big day
tomorrow," said Gideon's mother.
Gideon didn't know exactly what to think of that
brief encounter with the divine. Why shouldn't Celia
submit her photo? What was he supposed to do to
prevent it? He'd have to sleep on that one.
The next morning, Gideon took his dad's keys
and headed for Celia's house. When he arrived,
Celia was up and ready to go. She had the photos
out and was packing them in protective cartons. She
greeted him with a smile. He could tell she was
psyched for the trip and the show. "Celia, I've been
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thinking about it. How about submitting only 'The
Magnificat' and 'Contageous.' Three submissions
might be over-kill."
"What's wrong with three? Don't you like
'Desperation?' I think it's the best of the three."
"No. I like it fine, I guess. I just don't think it is
your best work."
"Gideon, you are the first to admit you don't know
the first thing about art. What's going on?"
"Nothing. I just don't care for it. I wouldn't want
you to be embarrassed by it."
"I beg your pardon? Did you say I'd be
embarrassed by it?"
"That's not what I meant. I meant that the other
two are so good it doesn't stand much of a chance."
"Thank you for your advice," Celia said,
somewhat icily. "Are you ready to go?"
The two hour drive to Fargo went fine even
though Celia thought Gideon was acting a bit weird
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the whole time. At one point in the trip, the picture
came up again and Gideon offered to buy it from her.
He said he'd give her $75. She knew he knew that
she had never sold a picture for more than $50 in
her whole life. And what was the deal? He had told
her the wasn't even that crazy about it. Why did he
want to buy it. She told him that he could have it for
free after the show if he wanted. He told her that
would be too late. He wanted an 'unviewed' picture,
he said, one that had never been seen by human
eyes. "What an odd guy Gideon is today," she
thought.
When they arrived at the Fargo civic center and
went in, the registrar took Celia's name and
information, assigned her three numbers for her
pictures and told her to go ahead and hang them on
hooks around the display room for the judging. She
was told to not hang them together so they wouldn't
be obviously from the same artist. She and Gideon
did as they were told. Celia took 'The Magnificat' to
one wall and hung it and came back for 'Contagious
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Laughter' to hang on a different wall. Gideon pulled
'Desperation' out of the box and took it to a third wall.
But now Gideon, himself, was feeling a bit of
desperation. God had been quite clear. This picture
was NOT to be displayed. He had no idea what to do
so he lifted his knee and smashed the picture over it.
Glass shattered, the photo crumpled, Celia gave a
shriek, the registrar came running, as did one of the
guards.
"WHAT HAPPENED?!" "IS ANYONE HURT?!"
"WHAT'S GOING ON?!" "WHY DID YOU DO
THAT?!" everyone was talking at once in a
cacophony of voices concerned and incredulous.
"I dropped it," said Gideon, although no one
believed a picture could be so destroyed by simply
dropping it. Glass might break, the frame might be
damaged, the picture could get scratched, but this
was far beyond any of that. The picture was ruined.
Celia knew that Gideon had done it intentionally. She
just didn't know why. She was furious.
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"It's alright," Celia said to the registrar and guard.
"Accidents happen. I've got two other entries in the
show. I'll print another one later." She couldn't even
look at Gideon, she was so mad.
After the guard and registrar had gone she
seethed at Gideon, "Why did you do that? Why did
you destroy my picture? What's wrong with you?"
"It was an accident," lied Gideon.
"No, it wasn't. You didn't want that picture in the
show. You broke it on purpose, you jerk."
Gideon steered clear of Celia for the rest of the
morning, until after the judging. As predicted, Celia
won first prize in the photo competition for her
'Magnificat' photo. Who can downgrade a glowing
soon-to-be mother? Her other picture finished
somewhere down the line but even the judges
commented on how impossible it was to not smile
when the unbridled joy of the father and son.
The ride home wasn't quite as tense as Gideon
was expecting. Having one of her photos win
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assuaged Celia's wrath a bit. There wasn't a lot of
talking, but what there was wasn't too filled with
anger. They'd get over this, even though neither of
them knew what it was all about.
"Dad, I've got a moral dilemma" said Gideon to
his father that evening. "Is it ever right to do wrong?"
"Is it ever right to do wrong? That's a very difficult
question, son. Why do you ask?" said his father.
"I lied today to keep Celia from doing something.
I hurt her feelings," Gideon didn't want to tell his dad
the whole story. He couldn't explain his destruction
of the picture, but figured lying and hurting someone
in the process would have the same moral
implications as the destruction.
"Lying is wrong. You know that. Hurting someone
is wrong, too. You know that. It sounds to me, by the
way you framed your question, that you want a lie
that will result in a good outcome to be called okay.
Is that about it?"
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"Yeah. I guess so. I guess I'm asking whether the
end justifies the means."
"The simple answer is 'no.' But there are very few
situations in life where the simple answer is
sufficient. Let me tell you a story about a man named
Dietrich Bonhoeffer. Bonhoeffer was a Lutheran
minister in Germany during the Hitler years - quite an
influential man and well known."
Gideon saw another holocaust story coming. It
seemed to him that his dad had an awfully lot of
holocaust stories. Maybe such blatant evil gave
great sermon fodder to ministers.
"Bonhoeffer saw and hated what Hitler was
doing. He actually preached sermons against the
genocide he saw going on. But, of course, sermons
only go so far. Most people don't even listen to them
and those who do sometimes have difficulty
translating sermonizing to daily life. But Bonhoeffer,
nevertheless, needed to do something. He, along
with some of the German Intelligence Community,
plotted to assassinate Hitler. As you know, Hitler was
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never assassinated so, obviously their plot failed.
Bonhoeffer was arrested, tried, spent a year and a
half in prison, and then was hanged. But during his
year and a half in prison he wrote practically nonstop. Among the things he wrote about is exactly
what you are questioning, Gideon. He had to
somehow deal with murder. Can it ever be good?
His answer is the one I have clung to throughout my
life. Bonhoeffer said that bad must never be thought
to be good. When it is, society collapses. He wrote:
'...when a man takes guilt upon himself in
responsibility, he imputes his guilt to himself and no
one else. He answers for it... Before other men he is
justified by dire necessity; before himself he is
acquitted by his conscience, but before God he
hopes only for grace.' In other words, Gideon, he is
saying that evil is always evil even when it is
necessary. And even when it is necessary we must
not call it good. Our doing of wrong should always
drive us to the foot of the cross seeking God's mercy
and forgiveness." Gideon's father is truly a preacher.
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You ask him a question and he sometimes goes on
and on.
"Okay. I think I get that," said Gideon.
"Sometimes you have to do bad things for good
reasons but they are still bad and we have to tell
God we're sorry. But here's another twist: Do you
think God would ever ask us to do something bad?"
"I can't imagine so. God is the author of good and
cannot do bad himself nor, I think, could He ever ask
us to do something bad - at least bad from His
perspective," explained Rev. James. "If we sense
God telling us to do something bad, it may be Satan
trying to fool us into thinking He is God."
"I'm not sure I even believe in Satan," said
Gideon.
"That's fine. But the Bible seems to and believing
in Satan is maybe our best way of explaining evil in
the world. 'The Devil made me do it' is a popular
phrase and causes us to laugh, but I don't think the
Devil makes us do anything. But I do think he
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suggests things and urges us on to do bad things our sinful nature? - the devil? - it comes from
somewhere."
Gideon had a lot to think about and think he did.
He wondered if God, the other day, when his mom
came into his room, was really God at all. Maybe his
mom was the devil. "No, that doesn't sound right," he
thought.
The next morning Gideon went over to Celia's
house to try to make peace with her and put this
whole thing behind them. Celia's little sister
answered the door. Claudia was eight with oversized
glasses - pink frames. She wore pigtails today and a
pink 'Hello Kitty' sweat suit. "Good morning, Mr.
Gideon," she said, and Gideon smiled at this latest
fashion statement of the divine. "I understand that
you think your mother might be the devil? She's not."
"I know that. I was wondering if you are. Are
you? You told me to do something bad. How can you
do that if you're God?"
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"I didn't tell you to do something bad. You did
that all on your own. I didn't tell you to lie or to insult
Celia or to destroy her photo. That was all yours. I
told you to not let her display that photo. That is all.
Your falling into doing wrong came only from your
lack of imagination. You see, Gideon, there are
always options. There are always creative and
imaginative approaches we can take that keep us
out of trouble. For instance, you might have simply
asked Celia if she had a release from everyone in
her photos to display their image. That would have
stopped the picture from being shown right there.
She didn't of those people in the background. They
didn't want their picture taken. Or you could have
suggested to her that, since the prize money was
only $50 and the registration fee was $20 per
submission, she would be losing money, even if she
won, by submitting three. Or you could have even
told her the truth - that 'God told me to tell you not to
display that one.' She'd have thought you a bit
wacky, but believe me, I know she wouldn't have
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shown it if you had told her you had a 'feeling' about
it. She respects you," said God, the little girl.
"Celia isn't here," said Claudia. "I think she went
to Kinko's to have that one you smashed reprinted.
That was pretty mean, Gideon. It's a good thing she
is in love with you, otherwise you'd be dead."
"She's not in love with me," said Gideon. "We're
just friends."
"Celia and Gideon, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-NG," sang Claudia as Gideon turned and headed
home.
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