A Fathers Advice
Romans 12: 2, 9-20. 13: 8-9
June 30. 1999
So many things to celebrate: Father’s Day, tomorrow the beginning of Summer, the sixth Sunday after Pentecost, sixty-nine days until the opening of football season. But today, we take our directions from St. Hallmark, instead of the church lectionary. Our focus is on Fathers, and not to be sexist, we will graciously include Mothers. And therefore, I would ask you to think for a moment about what advice you received from your fathers and mothers as you were growing up.
In Shakespeare’s Hamlet, there is a scene that some of you may remember from English Literature. Old Pulonius, an aging father, gives advice to his son Laertes. Laertes is preparing to leave home and go to France. Pulonius, knowing what sometimes happens to eighteen-year-olds in Paris, begins to offer some counsel.
Like most parental advice, when seen through adult filters, it is pretty innocuous. In those days before the more extreme social diseases, there really wasn’t a need to give many dire warnings. Parents couldn’t say things like, “Remember what the Surgeon General has told us, or when you go on the town, take precautions.”
But back to Shakespeare, despite its triteness, Pulonius’ speech to his son is often quoted as a model of fatherly advice. “Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar. Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice. Neither a borrower nor a lender be. To thine own self be true.”
We’ve heard it so many times; we may have even said it ourselves, “Look son, just remember; ‘To thine own self be true.” But what does it mean? Act like yourself, Keep doing what you’ve always done? Most parents hope that that is the last thing their sons or daughters will do when they leave home. Laertes, like most eighteen-year-olds, politely stands on one foot and then the other while his old man prattles on. “Neither a borrower nor a lender be. To thine own self be true.” After all, parental advice doesn’t usually do much harm, as long as it’s not taken seriously
The other night at a dinner party, we were trying to recall some of the advice our parents gave to us. The list included such sage guidance as – always clear your plate, get eight hours sleep, respect your elders, and don’t sit around in a wet bathing suit. Now, I’m not simply poking fun at parental council. It’s well-meaning. The problem is that this guidance never did much for me. Like Laertes, it simply went in one ear and quickly came out the other.
This is why I’m sure most people rapidly forgot our Epistle this morning. St Paul’s words sound like a list of dos and don’ts. The kind of advice we might have received from our parents.
What’s even more disturbing to me is that many people feel,_, religion is all about such dos and don’ts. Morality, rules for living, thou shalt and thou shalt nots, that’s their image of the church. Is it any wonder that the vast majority of people claim to be spiritual, but not religious? What they hear from the pulpit doesn’t seem to be much different from what they’ve heard from their parents.
In preparing this sermon, I made a discovery. One of those ‘Aha” events. When I first read the text from St. Paul’s writings, I read it in the way we just heard it: (Paul giving advice). “Let your love be genuine, hate that which is evil, hold fast to what is good, love one another.” But then I happened to have picked up a commentary. The writer pointed out that Paul wrote in the indicative mood rather than the imperative. In the original Greek, it was not “Let love be genuine, hate this, hold to this, do that.” It was written this way: Love is genuine. It hates evil, clings to what is good. The tense of the verb is the key, and the first eleven chapters of Romans tell us that we are to be lovers, for God first loved us. Paul is not simply saying Do this, don’t do that. He is saying be this, be that, for God has made us in that way.
What Paul is doing here in our Epistle is not telling us so
much what to do, as telling us who we are and who we were meant to be
On this St. Hallmark’s Day, I would venture to point out that there are at least two ways of giving advice. One is like Pulonius, saying do this and avoid that. The other is like Paul, saying, “Remember, remember what God has done for you, and therefore remember you are special, so act like you are.”
I used to have a good friend whose mother never gave advice like don’t drink and drive, or, don’t use bad language, But, whenever we went out, she would always say to her son, “Remember who you are.” (She must have learned from Paul.) I am convinced that those four words did more to deter us than any lectures or list of dos and don’ts.
It was Satchel Paige, the amazing old-time black pitcher who is quoted as saying, “Don’t look back, something might be gaining on you.” in Paul’s letter to the Romans, he is saying just the opposite, He is saying, “Please look back, look, you can see that something has already gained on you. It’s right at hand, the love of God. The redemption of Christ, the indwelling of the Spirit. And because of what has already been done, you are already perfect in God’s eyes. Not that you are perfect: your behavior, your lifestyle, and your way of acting certainly needs to improve. But Paul tells us, “Remember who you are, and who you were meant to be.” Perfect? You are perfect in God’s eyes. Perfect as a son or daughter of God. And if you can remember that, you don’t have to worry about all the other advice from the pulpit. For in God’s eyes, it’s already a done deal.
Thus ends the lesson from St. Hallmark.
Amen