The following sermon was preached on May 12th, 2022 by Eddie Elliot, a senior in Fayetteville-Manlius High School.

It’s a very different task to lectoring, standing in front of the congregation like this and speaking, isn’t it? Reading from the bible is a fairly easy task— I mean, there are some words that are hard to pronounce and it isn’t exactly written in conversational English— but fundamentally, what you’re doing is reading the words written on the page. Pace yourself, look up and make eye contact with the audience. Pause dramatically to add emphasis. And now I’m up here, talking— at some length— and there’s some expectation that I will have a deep meaning to impart, like I’ve got to make your time listening to me worthwhile. And who am I to provide some new insight to a congregation that is far wiser than I? I guess that’s a tall order. But what can we do but try?

When I looked at the readings for this week, I didn’t just read them once. I read them a few times, in a few places, which of course offers a few different perspectives. I looked up historical context. I didn’t just read them. I tried to understand them. And I think that is a remarkably valuable exercise, one that I would encourage anyone who hasn’t done so to attempt. Because the Bible is a remarkable work. It doesn’t just have one correct meaning. There isn’t somebody who will be able to tell you “this is right.” or say “God wants you to understand this this way, and only this way.” And I think that is intentional. No person will read the bible the same way and come away from it with the same understanding. Similar, perhaps, but it’s impossible to read a text like this and not be influenced by your life experiences, and not have your interpretation colored by who you are. And I think that, too, is intentional. Certainly, there are incorrect interpretations, as we have seen, of people using the bible to justify hate and bigotry, but there is a lot of, let’s say, wiggle room in between. And it’s impossible to digest something as dense as biblical content in one sitting. So, as my Latin teacher is fond of saying, “how do you eat an elephant?” “one bite at a time”. And the bites I took over this past week had many common threads, but the one I wanted to pick up on is that of hope.

I think that right now, in this very moment, there’s a lot of change in the air. Summer is slowly, haltingly making its way into Central New York, flowers are opening, and already the year is almost halfway over. Politically and socially, it increasingly feels like we are at a crossroads. But at a more micro level, there’s a lot of change in my life right now. Yesterday was my last Friday of high school. Isn’t that crazy? In just a few short months I will be arriving on my college’s campus and entering what is in many ways a completely different phase of my life. And in many ways, that is terrifying. The friendships I have made over the past almost eighteen years, the places I have traveled to, the small joys I have taken day-to-day. They could all change in a heartbeat. I find myself returning often to a Calvin and Hobbes quote of all things: ““You know what's weird? Day by day, nothing seems to change, but pretty soon...everything's different.” Soon I will have to make new friends, meet new people, and find new ways to spend my time. Which is very exciting. But I’m not necessarily completely ready to give up this life that I’ve become so comfortable in. Consequently, I often see myself spinning in circles, frantically grabbing at threads of life everywhere, trying to halt the passage of time. Trying to remember this moment, these people, exactly as they are. It’s easy to feel like an artist trying to paint a bird. If it would just stay still for long enough, then I could capture the moment perfectly.

But it doesn’t work. It’s easy to get so caught up in the change that we forget to look around us and appreciate the moment for what it is. The next line in the comic strip is People change whether they decide to or not!

And I get how odd it sounds for a teenager to come up and talk to a congregation by-and-large older than them and choosing to talk about change of all things. Like, what great new insight do I have about change, of which the vast majority of those sitting in front of me have experienced far more of? But one of the things that all of the readings from today emphasize is the hope and promise that is inherent with change. From the old testament we hear a portion of “Wisdom’s Call”, where wisdom is described as standing at a crossroads. And right there that moment is worth stopping to consider. When you reach a crossroads, you cannot keep on the path you were treading. You must make a choice. To echo semisonic, you don’t have to stop, but you can’t keep going where you were. The proverb ends with a somewhat chiastic ABBA structure (thanks again to my Latin teacher): “and I was daily his delight, rejoicing before him always, rejoicing in his inhabited world and delighting in the human race”. This concept of always rejoicing, even in the face of change stuck with me. Wisdom, and I think by extension God, rejoices at the very fact of being human. Not at something that we did or didn’t do, simply that we are. Change is an inevitable part of life, but regardless of where we may go, some things remain the same— we can rejoice to be alive. We will inherently make wrong decisions and make mistakes. That’s expected. We can understand these mistakes and take solace in the very fact that we have each other.

And then in the new testament, Paul writes the Romans that we can “have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ” because “we are justified by faith”. He urges them to “boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope”. Both of these statements are remarkably broad. It’s easy to say things like “boast in suffering”, but quite another to be actively suffering and think “oh this sucks, but at least it will make me a better person”. And I think this is exactly the moment where we can and perhaps should turn to God. Because that’s one of the most important things that God does. Help those who are suffering. But the most important line, to me, in Paul’s letter is what comes next. “God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.” Listen to that again: “God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.” Many churches often present themselves as repositories of hope, saying things like “take solace in the bible.” and this is incredibly important. We can often find hope through prayer and reflection, both of which the church offers a remarkable place for. But Paul says the reason hope does not disappoint us is not just the bible. It’s not just thought. It's because we all have had the Holy Spirit given to us, and God’s love has been poured into our hearts. We find God’s love, I think, everywhere in the world around us. A crucial part of being a Christian is spreading that love and hope through kindness and service to others. In your life, there will be people who are hopeless. There will be people who need help. And, should you be able to while preserving your own health, perhaps the most Christian thing you can do is to help provide that help. Outside of the Church, I have seen this love and hope spread countless times, whether it’s going to the Samaritan center, or simply people being there for me to talk to when I need it. And it’s moments like those that I perhaps feel closest to God in.

And the gospel reading is, I think, expressing similar sentiments of hope. Jesus continually emphasizes the future, from “you cannot bear them now” to repeatedly emphasizing what will come to pass: the spirt of truth “will guide you into all the truth” “will speak whatever he hears” “will glorify me”. Jesus is speaking to the disciples the night before his crucifixion. I think he is emphasizing the hope of the future, even as he will be shortly leaving them. One day they will be able to bear the further things that shall be said.

This reminds me of how F. Scott Fitzgerald chose to end The Great Gatsby “Tomorrow we will run faster, stretch our arms out further… and one fine morning—”. I urge you to carry God’s love and hope with you, whether it be for yourself or someone around you. Heaven knows we could use more of it.