Corrected Vision

When our new livestream equipment was installed in the church last week, one of the final challenges was determining where to mount the camera. After some tinkering, the camera was placed just above the west doors. Once the technicians from the installation company had departed for the day, I finally looked at the computer image of the livestream. And I realized that it was a mirror image of reality.

Everything looked normal until you suddenly noticed that the pulpit was on the right side of the nave, and the lectern on the left, and the same was true for the organ and credence table. It was disorienting. In my quest to figure out why this was so, I examined the camera on the back wall of the church, and I saw that it was upside down. It had been hung upside down in order to allow for a better, less obstructed view of the high altar through the rood screen.

The company installing the equipment, of course, knew exactly what they were doing. They knew that the mirror image showing on the livestream could be altered, and so they knew they could hang the camera upside down to achieve the camera angle they desired. It turned out that with a couple of clicks of the mouse on the computer screen, the image was automatically corrected. When you view the livestream for the first time on Sunday, everything will appear as normal.

Technology has us well trained to expect easy changes when something is wrong. Simply click the mouse or punch a few buttons, and you can often get a desired result. And this is often how we approach God in prayer.

When things are wrong in the world or in our lives, when up is down and down is up, we get on our knees, clasp our hands in a pious posture, and hope that by clicking a button, we can summon what we want. We expect a change, and usually this change is expected of God. If we say our prayers just right, or if we adequately express our repentance, we can change God’s mind. We can wring something from the hands of God.

But Church tradition has historically maintained that God does not change. God’s very nature is unchanging. God is omniscient, omnipotent, and omnipresent, even though the witness of Scripture, especially passages like the one we heard from Joel this evening, suggest that God’s mind is capable of being changed. What are we to make of this?

Joel, like much of the witness of the Old Testament, seems to correlate disaster and God’s judgment for wrongdoing. It’s not clear what the people in Joel have done that is so bad, if indeed they have done anything to deserve the horror of their circumstances. What is clear is that things in the world have gone very wrong.

There has been devastation in the land. Joel looks upon a landscape where crops are withering, water has evaporated, and there is a threat of future disaster, with enemies on the horizon. In some sense, as Joel describes it, all of creation groans in the pains of this barren time.

And Joel is hopeful that these dire circumstances and the possibility of additional disaster in the future can be made right with the click of a button. All the people need to do is return to the Lord. If they will but look to God again, with fasting, weeping, and mourning, God might change his mind.

Joel believes two things: that acts of repentance are efficacious, and that God is, at heart, a merciful God. All it takes is for the people to stop in their tracks, make an about-face, and trust in God’s kindness. But in order to see results, one thing is sure: the people have to change their ways. They must do something.

Joel keenly feels the need to plead with God to change his mind. And he takes this even further. Joel bargains with God to redeem his honor. Joel feels the need to change others’ minds about the nature of God. Joel is concerned about those who do not believe in his God. He is worried that if the people of God appear to have been forsaken, other nations will scoff, “Where is their God?”

Joel employs his reasoning tactic with God. “God, if you will repent and show your mercy, others will see that you do not forsake your own. You will be able to defend your honor and prove your righteousness.” All it takes, Joel seems to suggest, is a click of the button. If the people change their ways, if they plead with God for mercy, God might just do it. God might change his mind, relent, and spare the people.

How often do we come to the altar of God at the beginning of Lent and identify to some degree with Joel? Is there not a part of us that takes time out of a busy work week to get to church or tune in online so that we will obtain something from God? Who knows if God will not change his mind after all, if this Lent, we begin anew? Why not make this Lent the time to let go of some of our resentments? Why not forgive the former friend against whom we’ve harbored a grudge for twenty years? This is the year to clean up our house.

This Lent, we might feel an even more uneasy resonance with the Book of Joel. Joel looked upon his contemporary situation and saw doom and gloom, even systemic ecological disaster. This Lent, we survey the landscape and mourn the uncountable deaths from Covid-19. We see the rapidity of alarming deterioration of the environment. We feel the raw wounds of violence fresh in our national history and know the wounds are still festering. We imagine the anxious uncertainty of our future—of virus mutations and variants, of delayed vaccinations, and of a future yet unrevealed. We sense that a corporate failing of humankind has gotten us to this place, and we wonder exactly where we went wrong. We accept the invitation to a holy Lent because if we press the right buttons by saying the right things and making the right kind of self-denial, we might get God to change his mind after all.

Like Joel, perhaps we even try our hand at bargaining with God. God, do not let your enemies see us forsaken! God, prove that you have not neglected your people and left them helpless against a pandemic! God, show at least some small sign that you care for your children!

How can we not feel a bit defensive for God’s sake, when one natural disaster after another lends ammunition to those who see no reason for God’s very existence? How can we not want to protect God from one more televangelist who claims a link between the latest tragedy and the sins of some segment of the population? Or maybe we are the ones who believe that our sickness is God’s punishment for our own sins.

But there is a refrain that we hear, time and again in Scripture, a refrain that is repeated even when God is portrayed as angry and capable of change. It is the leitmotif that shines throughout the Bible and that makes itself visible in the person of Jesus Christ. And this refrain is that God is merciful and full of compassion. As today’s collect reminds us, God hates nothing he has made. God is not the one who needs to change when we push all the right buttons. We are the ones who need to change.

This is the reason for getting to church on Ash Wednesday. This is the reason for accepting the invitation to a holy Lent. This is the reason for renewing our life of prayer, engaging in self-examination and repentance, and embracing spiritual practices. It is so that we can change, not so we can beg God to change his mind.

We don’t need to defend God’s honor to others. God can take care of himself. God would not be the merciful God that he is if he expected us to grovel in order to win his forgiveness. God calls us to return to him because God knows it’s good for us. And by being good for us, it is in turn good for the whole world.

In God’s gracious providence, the camera can be mounted upside down or right side up, and God can still render the correct image. God knows that. We give ourselves too much credit by assuming that we are responsible for God’s reactions. But when God acts, we are a part of what he does, because God made us and calls us good. God, in the unfathomable mystery of his providence, uses our prayer and actions for the life of the world. And God knows that our prayer and actions will change us, too, so that our view will change. When we come out on the other side of Lent, maybe the images will all be sorted out for us, because by turning to God, our vision has been made right.

As we approach the altar of God this night in full confidence of God’s boundless mercy, we accept an invitation to change. Let us thank God that our inconstancy can be conformed to God’s changelessness. And let us rejoice that in all the instability and change of our world, one thing forever stays the same. God looks upon us, smiles, and welcomes us home. There’s no need to press any buttons. Just turn around and see God waiting for you to come home.

Sermon by Father Kyle Babin
Ash Wednesday
February 17, 2021