Falling Backwards

The Church of St. Paul and Incarnation, Jersey City NJ

June 28, 2020

Year A, Proper 8: The Fourth Sunday after Pentecost

Genesis 22:1-14

Psalm 13

Romans 6:12-23

Matthew 10:40-42

Falling Backwards

            When I was a junior at St. Peter’s Prep, I participated in my first real religious retreat.

            Along with twenty or so of my classmates and some of our teachers, I spent several days in a great big old yellow Victorian house in Sea Bright, just across the street from the beach and the ocean.

            I had heard a little bit from others who had already attended earlier retreats but it was hard to know if all of that information was legit or if there was some misinformation mixed in, so I didn’t really know what to expect. When we pulled into the driveway of the old yellow house, I remember feeling nervous and curious, and also glad that some of my best friends were there with me.

            Over the next few days there would be a lot of fun and learning and praying and reflecting, and some pretty serious sharing, with many of us talking about some difficult personal experiences. It was probably the first time we had said a lot of these things out loud.

            But, before we could be open and honest with each other, we needed to develop trust.

            So, at the start of the retreat, we were asked to participate in a little exercise.

We were all paired off and each one of us was asked to fall backwards into the waiting arms of our partner.

            For some of us, it was no problem to close our eyes, stretch out arms, and let ourselves fall backwards, trusting that our classmate was paying attention and was strong and quick enough to catch us before we went crashing down to the floor.

            Others had a hard time, hesitant to lean back, only able to tilt back so far, before stopping and trying over again, usually with laughter and words of encouragement from the rest of us.

            It was a trust exercise.

For some of us Prep students back then, even at our young age, trust was not so easy.

And, as we get older and discover that other people or not always trustworthy – or that we ourselves are not always trustworthy – trust often gets even harder.

It’s hard to trust, hard to let go and fall backwards into the unknown.

A couple of weeks ago, we heard the story of God promising a child to Abraham and Sarah in their childless old age, a promise that seemed so ridiculous that Sarah could only laugh.

But, God kept God’s promise and Sarah gave birth to a son, Isaac.

Most parents love their children, of course, but, as we’ve seen here in our own parish, there is an extra-special love for a child born despite seemingly impossible odds.

The great love of old Abraham and old Sarah for Isaac is part of why today’s first lesson – what our Jewish brothers and sisters call “the Binding” – is so shocking.

God calls Abraham once again, saying, “Take your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt offering one of the mountains that I shall show you.”

Even if we’re already familiar with this story, it’s still startling that Abraham offers no protest, not asking to hear that again because it seemed just too crazy, too cruel, too painful, to be true, too hard to believe that God would ask Abraham to sacrifice what was so precious to him and Sarah.

But, apparently without a word of protest or even a second thought, Abraham simply does what he’s told – though it’s interesting that Sarah doesn’t appear in the story. Did Abraham mention to his wife that the Lord had asked him to sacrifice their son? Knowing the fierceness of a mother’s love, perhaps not. Maybe Abraham didn’t want to risk Sarah talking him out of it or finding some other way to stop him from following God’s call.

So, Abraham takes his miracle child, along with two servants, up to the mountain for the sacrifice.

In an almost unbearably poignant moment, Isaac realizes that something isn’t right and asks his father, “The fire and wood are here, but where is the lamb for a burnt offering?” – not realizing that he was going to be the burnt offering.

Abraham reassures Isaac that God will provide a lamb for the sacrifice.

The text doesn’t say, but Isaac must have been beyond confused and terrified when Abraham binds him, places him on the altar on top of the wood, and then takes the knife, about to sacrifice his beloved son.

Abraham was about to fall backwards, trusting God, no matter what.

And, at the last moment, an angel of the Lord stops Abraham and spares Isaac.

Abraham has passed this most intense trust exercise.

What a story.

It’s a vivid story and, let’s be honest, it’s a disturbing story, too, right?

It’s a story that only makes sense if we remember that this is not Abraham’s first encounter with God – not the first time that God had asked Abraham for his trust, not the first time that Abraham was asked to fall backwards into the arms of a God who would never let him fall.

There’s the miraculous birth of Isaac, as I already mentioned, but long before that, when Abraham lived far away in Mesopotamia, in a place called Ur, God called him to get up and leave his homeland, to journey to a new land, promising that he would be the father of a nation more numerous than the stars in heaven.

It all must have seemed not very likely, but still Abraham trusted in God, and left behind all that was familiar. He and Sarah had lots of adventures and all kinds of trouble along the way, but through it all God was trustworthy, so trustworthy that, when asked, Abraham was willing to sacrifice his son.

And, because of his great trust in God, Jews, Christians, and Muslims all look to Abraham as a father figure.

Falling backwards.

The power of trust.

Abraham is an icon of trusting God but for us Christians it’s Jesus who is our greatest sign of trust.

We often talk about us having faith in Jesus – and that’s definitely important – but we don’t talk enough about the faith of Jesus – that Jesus trusted in the Father enough to leave behind small-town Nazareth, risking the confusion and disapproval of his family and neighbors – trusted God enough to step into the unknown, teaching and healing, sharing his vision of a very different kind of kingdom where it’s the poor and the mournful who are blessed.

Jesus trusted in the Father, trusted enough to fall backwards into a journey that led to a different binding – a binding with no last-second reprieve – a binding to a hard wooden cross, offering the sacrifice that opened the door to new life for us all.

Falling backwards.

The power of trust.

And, as we heard last week, Jesus sends out his disciples to continue and expand his work.

Jesus sends out his disciples – sends us out – into a world that is broken and often dangerous, to preach a message that a lot of people are not going to want to hear, to take a stand that may strain and even break our closest relationships.

Falling backwards, indeed.

In last week’s passage, Jesus knows that it’s not so easy to trust other people but he insists that, no matter how rough things get, we can always trust God, the God who loves us so deeply, who values each of us so much that every hair on our head is counted.

And, in what we heard today, Jesus concludes with a little more consolation, saying that some people, at least, will welcome us and offer kindness, like giving us a cold cup of water to quench our thirst.

But, there is never any promise that the way of God is an easy way.

It wasn’t easy for Abraham to bring his beloved miracle child up to the mountain.

And, it wasn’t easy for Jesus to face the rejection of so many and the abandonment of even his closest friends. It wasn’t easy to feel, for a time, forsaken even by God.

But, for Abraham and Jesus, falling backwards - the power of trust - changed everything.

And the same is true for us in our time of trouble. I have no doubt that the days ahead are going to be difficult, and yet our trustworthy God is with us, inviting us to fall backwards, trusting that God will not let go of us, no matter what.

My first retreat back when I was a junior at St. Peter’s Prep was a life-changing experience.

Those days at the Jersey Shore were when I first really began thinking seriously about God, and God’s place in my life.

It was the first time that I began to think of my life as a journey – not as dramatic as Abraham being called to leave Ur – but a journey of my own, a journey when I would encounter Christ at the most unexpected times, in the unlikeliest places, among loving and generous people I learned to trust.

And, as I look back now, I realize that I might never have started out on this journey if, on that long-ago day in Sea Bright, I hadn’t closed my eyes and let myself fall backwards into the unknown.

The power of trust.

Amen.