Living the “Amen!”

  Nehemiah 8:1-3. 5-6, 8-10  

 Rev. Monte Marshall

In this morning’s text, a familiar word appears twice.  The word is “amen.”  It’s a word that appears in both the Old and New Testaments.  For example, there are psalms that end with “amen.”  And most books of the New Testament end with the word “amen.”  In some ancient manuscripts, the very last word in the last book of the New Testament—the book of Revelation—is “amen.”[1]

Here’s an interesting tidbit:  According to my count, we’ll either say or sing the word “amen” at least five times in this morning’s worship service, and I’m not counting the numerous times I’ll be using the word in this morning’s sermon.

Now I suspect that we’re most familiar with the word “amen” as a sign-off for our prayers.  In fact, this is such a common usage of the word that we might be tempted to think that “amen” means “the end.”  But if “amen” actually means “the end,” then it’s a word without much meaning; it’s a throw-away word that we use to give God a heads-up that our prayers are ending—as if God needs that kind of notice in the first place!  

But “amen” doesn’t mean “the end” and it’s not supposed to be a throw-away word devoid of significant meaning.  In fact, “amen” is supposed to be a powerful word.  “Amen” literally means “so be it.”  It’s a “declaration of affirmation.”  It’s a way of saying “yes” before God: “Yes, I agree with that.  Yes, I believe that to be true.  Yes, I want that to be so.”[2]  So “amen” is supposed to be a powerful word of commitment and affirmation. 

But here’s the deal:  For the word “amen” to realize its full potential as a powerful word, the “amen” has to be lived.  And when the “amen” is lived, power is present to renew God’s people.  This brings us to this morning’s reading from Nehemiah and the two exclamations of “amen” that appear in the text.

First of all, let’s establish the context.  The story is set in the mid-5^th century BCE.  After years spent in exile, the Persian king, Cyrus, has finally allowed the Israelites to return home.  But exile has taken its toll.  With all the difficulties that come from decades of struggling to sing God’s song in a strange land, amnesia has set in.  God’s people have forgotten who they are, what they’re expected to do, and to whom they are accountable. 

Pastor David Jones reminds us that when the Israelites arrive in Jerusalem, they find the city walls in ruins, the once-great temple a pile of rubble, and the countryside a wasteland.   To make matters worse, the Persians still dominate and tax the Israelites heavily.  External enemies still threaten them.  Internal divisions and injustices still set neighbor against neighbor.

But thanks to a hard-nosed governor named Nehemiah and a scribe named Ezra, a series of urban renewal projects have been completed including the building of a new temple and the restoration of the city walls.[3]  And as this morning’s text says, the Israelites have “settled in their various towns.”  

But as it turns out, urban renewal projects are not enough to cure a people suffering from amnesia.  The cure for this ailment is spiritual renewal.  Faith has to be rebuilt and identity reclaimed.  Relearning, reimagining and reinterpreting the foundational stories of the community are required. 

So “all the people” gather in Jerusalem, men, women and children old enough to comprehend what is about to take place.  They congregate “in the broad expanse before the Water Gate,” a space large enough to accommodate all the people, and inclusive enough to allow for the participation of those considered ritually unclean—in other words, the people pushed to the margins of society. 

As Pastor Jones puts it, the people ask Ezra “to fetch a scroll he’d brought with him from Babylonia.”[4]  The scroll contains the Pentateuch or Torah, the first five books of the Bible as we know them. 

Ezra opens the scroll.  The people stand up.  Ezra reads from the scroll from early morning until noon.  He reads the old stories “of creation, of Noah and the ark, of Abraham and Sara, of Joseph and the coat of many colors, of God releasing the Children of Israel from Egyptian captivity, of Miriam and Moses, of the Ten Commandments and God’s other instructions for creating a community.”[5]  The people listen attentively. 

The stories are written in Hebrew, but after so many years in exile, many of the Israelites are now speaking Aramaic, the language of the Persian Empire.  So Ezra translates the stories into the language of the people while thirteen priests circulate among the crowd to interpret what’s being read—to give the old stories meaning for a new time and a new place.[6]  And the people understand.

When Ezra blesses the Most High, the great God, all the people raise their hands and they declare their affirmation.  They exclaim: “Amen, Amen”— “So be it.  So be it.”

Interestingly, the stories the people hear,- and the teaching they receive, bring them grief.  They bow their heads and worship Yahweh lying face down on the ground.  The people weep.

But Nehemiah and Ezra and the priests continue instructing the people, “saying to them all, ’This day is holy to the Most High, your God.  Do not mourn.  Do not weep.’”  Nehemiah says to the people:  “’Go now and enjoy the rich food and sweet wine, and be certain that you send a share to those who cannot provide for themselves, for this day is holy to Yahwah.  Let no one be sad, for Yahweh’s joy is your strength.’”  

And it’s here, in the aftermath of the “amens” uttered in response to the old stories relearned, reimagined and reinterpreted—that the rebuilding of faith begins.  And it’s here, in the feast, in the sharing with the poor, in the joy of Yahweh that the “amens” are lived and the people’s strength renewed. 

So what does all of this mean for us?  Well, first of all, it seems to me that we’ve been influenced a bit by this morning’s text from Nehemiah.  Every Sunday we gather in this place as a people of faith, men, women, children and people pressed to the margins.  And we hear the old stories over and over again, and not just the Torah stories from the Pentateuch, but all of the stories from our scriptures, including the Jesus stories.  And these old stories are relearned, reimagined and reinterpreted for our day and time—at least that your preacher’s intent.  And there are certainly plenty of “amens” to be heard in our worship services.  In fact, the “amens” come pretty easily.

But to what effect is all of this?  By the time we’re done each Sunday morning, have we been reminded of who we are, what we’re expected to do, and to whom we are accountable?  Do we feel as though we’ve been caught up in Yahweh’s joy that renews our strength? 

Or does our amnesia persist so that we only feel weakness or sadness—or perhaps nothing at all, as the result of having lived through yet another Sunday worship experience, punctuated with empty “amens,” that has changed not a thing?

Well, if we’re still plagued by amnesia and weakness and empty “amens,” then perhaps it’s time to take a page from Nehemiah’s book, and seek renewal by living the “amen.”  And as the followers of Jesus, living the “amen” means living fully in the way of Jesus.

What won’t work—at least in my estimation—is seeking renewal through “tweaking” things or pursuing projects and programs that don’t get to the heart of what it means to live the “amen.”  For example, when I started to work on the staff of Asbury United Methodist Church in Corpus Christi, this young church had recently completed a building project that allowed the congregation to move from worshipping in an elementary school cafeteria, to worshipping in a sanctuary. 

During that project, the folks at Asbury talked a lot about how good it felt to work together toward a common goal of constructing a building.  They felt unified.  They felt purposeful.  They felt strong.  There was energy and excitement and joy around the project. 

But by the time I arrived a year or two after the completion of the building, this is what I heard people saying: “Well, there’s something missing here.  We’ve lost something.  We seem lethargic and depressed.  Our energy level has dropped off.  We’re not as purposeful or as united as we once were.  Where has the joy gone?  Where has our strength gone?”

Well, the folks at Asbury were anxious for renewal, but they weren’t focused enough on living the “amen” as a solution to the problem.  Instead, they talked about finding another building project to undertake without any consideration of what would happen once that building was completed and the cycle of discontent set in once again.

In contrast, the Corpus Christi Catholic Church in Rochester, New York is an example of a congregation seeking renewal by living the “amen.”  This church once worshipped about 5,000 people each Sunday morning.  But over the years, church attendance declined to about 200.  They tried all kinds of “tweaks,” gimmicks and programs to turn things around, but without success.  The parishioners were anxious and afraid.  The diocese was actually talking about closing the parish.

The parish priest, Father James Callan, wrote about the church’s predicament: “What do you do when your church is dying?  You would think that the answer would be to preserve it, to hang on to it, to protect it.  No!  Just the opposite.  Let it go.  Share what little you have.  Reach out to the poor.  Give it away before you get it.  Take a chance.”

This is what the church did:  First of all, they gave away 10 percent of every offering to the poor even though that January, the gas and electric bills for one month were over $10,000 while the collection each week was $450.00.  Father Callen writes:  “Some quick math tells you we were in trouble.  [But} other people in the world were worse off than we were…[and] we thought that Jesus would feel more at home in a church that was generous with the needy.

“The second radical step we took was to eliminate all of our investments.  We decided to sell our stocks and bonds, to empty our portfolio, and to give the money to the poor.  This way we would have nothing to depend on except God and the generosity of the parishioners.”

So Father Callan reports these results: “The Sunday attendance went from 200 to 2,200.  Babies are crying again in church.  We’re alive again!  . . . Corpus Christi started to experience a new springtime when we let go and took some chances….We discovered that faith meant leaving something behind and reaching out for something not yet tangible.”[7]

Dear friends, “amen” is not supposed to be a throw-away word devoid of significant meaning.  On the contrary, it’s intended to be a powerful word of affirmation and commitment that produces renewal.  But this power is only realized fully when we live the “amen.”  So be it!