There are Giants in the Sky

There Are Giants in the Sky

Fifth Sunday after Pentecost (Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time)

Sunday, June 24, 2017

First Baptist Church; Austin, Texas

Rev. Nathan A. Russell

Lectionary Texts:

·       1 Samuel 17:1a, 4-11, 19-23, 32-49

·       Psalm 9:9-20

·       Mark 4:35-41

·       2 Corinthians 6:1-13

A reading from the Hebrew Bible, the book of 1 Samuel, Chapter 17, verses 1a, 4-11, 19-23, 32-49. Listen for the Word of God astir in these words of scripture.

Now the Philistines gathered their armies for battle…

And there came out from the camp of the Philistines a champion named Goliath, of Gath, whose height was six cubits and a span. He had a helmet of bronze on his head, and he was armed with a coat of mail; the weight of the coat was five thousand shekels of bronze. He had greaves of bronze on his legs and a javelin of bronze slung between his shoulders. The shaft of his spear was like a weaver’s beam, and his spear’s head weighed six hundred shekels of iron; and his shield-bearer went before him. He stood and shouted to the ranks of Israel, “Why have you come out to draw up for battle? Am I not a Philistine, and are you not servants of Saul? Choose a man for yourselves and let him come down to me. If he is able to fight with me and kill me, then we will be your servants; but if I prevail against him and kill him, then you shall be our servants and serve us.” And the Philistine said, “Today I defy the ranks of Israel! Give me a man, that we may fight together.” When Saul and all Israel heard these words of the Philistine, they were dismayed and greatly afraid…

Now Saul, and they, and all the men of Israel, were in the valley of Elah, fighting with the Philistines. David rose early in the morning, left the sheep with a keeper, took the provisions, and went as Jesse had commanded him. He came to the encampment as the army was going forth to the battle line, shouting the war cry. Israel and the Philistines drew up for battle, army against army. David left the things in charge of the keeper of the baggage, ran to the ranks, and went and greeted his brothers. As he talked with them, the champion, the Philistine of Gath, Goliath by name, came up out of the ranks of the Philistines, and spoke the same words as before. And David heard him…

David said to Saul, “Let no one’s heart fail because of him; your servant will go and fight with this Philistine.” Saul said to David, “You are not able to go against this Philistine to fight with him; for you are just a boy, and he has been a warrior from his youth.” But David said to Saul, “Your servant used to keep sheep for his father; and whenever a lion or a bear came, and took a lamb from the flock, I went after it and struck it down, rescuing the lamb from its mouth; and if it turned against me, I would catch it by the jaw, strike it down, and kill it. Your servant has killed both lions and bears; and this uncircumcised Philistine shall be like one of them, since he has defied the armies of the living God.” David said, “The Lord, who saved me from the paw of the lion and from the paw of the bear, will save me from the hand of this Philistine.” So Saul said to David, “Go, and may the Lord be with you!”

Saul clothed David with his armor; he put a bronze helmet on his head and clothed him with a coat of mail. David strapped Saul’s sword over the armor, and he tried in vain to walk, for he was not used to them. Then David said to Saul, “I cannot walk with these; for I am not used to them.” So David removed them. Then he took his staff in his hand, and chose five smooth stones from the wadi, and put them in his shepherd’s bag, in the pouch; his sling was in his hand, and he drew near to the Philistine.

The Philistine came on and drew near to David, with his shield-bearer in front of him. When the Philistine looked and saw David, he disdained him, for he was only a youth, ruddy and handsome in appearance. The Philistine said to David, “Am I a dog, that you come to me with sticks?” And the Philistine cursed David by his gods. The Philistine said to David, “Come to me, and I will give your flesh to the birds of the air and to the wild animals of the field.” But David said to the Philistine, “You come to me with sword and spear and javelin; but I come to you in the name of the Lord of hosts, the God of the armies of Israel, whom you have defied. This very day the Lord will deliver you into my hand, and I will strike you down and cut off your head; and I will give the dead bodies of the Philistine army this very day to the birds of the air and to the wild animals of the earth, so that all the earth may know that there is a God in Israel, and that all this assembly may know that the Lord does not save by sword and spear; for the battle is the Lord’s and he will give you into our hand.”

When the Philistine drew nearer to meet David, David ran quickly toward the battle line to meet the Philistine. David put his hand in his bag, took out a stone, slung it, and struck the Philistine on his forehead; the stone sank into his forehead, and he fell face down on the ground.

For the Word of God in its promise and covenant, Thanks Be To God!

It is a good and joyful thing to be with you this morning, First Baptist. I bring warm greetings from Broadway Baptist Church and Brite Divinity School. For those of you who are not familiar with Brite, we are the “other” seminary in Fort Worth, the one not currently in the newspaper. If you happen to be discerning a call to graduate theological education, I brought applications with me. Admission to Brite for Fall 2018 remains open through July 6; you still have time.

During college and in the midst of a crisis of identity and faith, I left the Southern Baptist Church of my upbringing in pursuit of something else and found the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ). However, if you talk to Joretta Marshall, the dean at Brite, she will tell you that there are some things you cannot extract from a Baptist. I still love the Baptist faith and message (the 1963 version), and those Baptist tenets brought me back home, this time to Broadway, almost three years ago.

Your reputation, First Baptist Austin, has long preceded you. I have known of you for years, following—some might say stalking—you from afar. While some persons have election night or super bowl watch parties, I held my own “liturgical party,” if you will, in anticipation of your church’s vote to become an open and affirming congregation in 2014. I even called your church office on Monday to ask the outcome of the vote. Let’s be honest, who does that?

Today is the last Sunday in the month of pride. Pride is not a liturgical season, but it should be. Fabulous colors, you know. When your pastor emailed me back in February, he recounted a number of firsts at First: ordinations, weddings, baby dedications, and more. He then said, “We have not yet had an openly LBGTQ preacher in the pulpit,” and he extended an invitation to me to be with you today. So, #firsttime? His request surprised me: ‘You’re having to call Fort Worth to find a gay Baptist? I didn’t think you could throw a rock in this city and not hit at least a few gay Baptists,’ but I digress.

Preaching is a scandal. If you don’t believe me, listen to last week’s sermon from the Rev. Dr. Griff Martin. This past Sunday, Bud Kennedy posted Emma Platoff’s article, which quoted your pastor and pictured your sanctuary. What a beginning to this series on David, King of the Israel frontier, and what a sermon to follow, but I digress.

Before preaching my first sermon, my father provided these sage words of advice: “If all else fails, read the story and sit down.” Well, Griff read what is quite possibly the longest lectionary pericope in the three-year cycle, and now the proclamation of the Word continues, yet as if for the very first time.

But first, may I pray with you?

There are giants in the sky, O God. There are big, tall terrible giants in the sky. Sometimes we face these giants; oftentimes we are the giants. But, if you deliver us, then nothing else matters, and if you do not deliver us, then nothing else matters. Be with us, we pray, and give us the courage to say your name…the name that reveals and conceals…the name that gives both life and death…the name in which persons come to power and giants surrender. Amen.

Now the Philistines gathered their armies for battle. Already the stage is set, the tension is high. Our hearts race as we anticipate who will make the first move. Who will traverse the valley into the demilitarized zone and ignite the brewing conflict?

With the voice of a referee from the Worldwide Wrestling Federation who stretches every vowel and uses rising and falling inflection, the unknown narrator motions to the left and announces: Standing at six cubits and a span and weighing in at 450 lbs Goliath of Gath. The Philistine army cheers, yelling their battle cry and beating their bronze-plated chests and stomping their iron-clad feet. Like any wrestler on today’s TV, Goliath emerges from an entry way, dwarfing every Philistine warrior and standing above the fog. Goliath’s wrestling belts are more elaborate than Ventura’s or Hogan’s could ever be, and these trophies testify to his former victories and Philistine conquests. Goliath’s military attire was no doubt part of the intimidating act, too: A helmet of bronze, a coat of mail weighing more than 5,000 shekels of bronze, greaves of bronze on his legs, a javelin of bronze slung between his shoulders. The shaft of his spear was like a weaver’s beam, and his spear’s head weighed six hundred shekels of iron; and his shield-bearer went before him. This giant in the sky was a walking Olympic medal. A much later, and somewhat less reliable translation—goes onto describe his hands. Huge, I tell you. YUGE. And somewhere this braggadocios bully had a big, bold, bombastic button that would launch the Philistine army into mortal combat.

This Goliath is no “Fee Fi Fo Fum” giant in the sky, but his taunt is not less frightening. He stood and shouted to the ranks of Israel, “Choose a man for yourselves, and let him come down to me. If he is able to fight with me and kill me, then we will be your servants; but if I prevail against him and kill him, then you shall be our servants and serve us.” It’s as if Goliath said, ‘Go ahead; try it. I dare you.’ Goliath’s tactics worked. When Saul and the Israelites heard the words of this Philistine, they were dismayed and terrified because of this big, tall, terrible giant in the sky.

Had we been there, we could have cut the tension with a knife. The referee in the valley between the two camps had no opponent in the right corner to announce, no dimensions to read. A void was present in the valley.

Apparently some squirmishes, or military exercises, were already taking place in the valley, though the Israeli and Philistine congresses had yet to declare war. As chance would have it, David arrives at Saul’s camp at his father’s behest just as the armies are taking their positions on opposite sides of the valley with war cries splitting the air. Goliath issues his terrible taunt again, “Choose a man… I dare you,” and David hears it.

Though not included in our lectionary reading, the Israelite army engages in what some would term “locker-room banter.” ‘Get a load of this guy, would you. Surely, he has come to defy Israel. And did you hear the prize Saul is offering for the one that fails this giant: riches, a family free of military service, and the daughter of Saul—her name?—well her name is not important in this conversation among the men; it’s just that the giant-slayer will get her as a prize. Sounds a bit like Disney animated film, doesn’t it? Careful the things you say, because children will listen. This forced betrothment is no happily ever after for the anonymous daughter of Saul. She continues the #metoo line of women in the biblical narrative. Our sacred text denies her agency, her autonomy. She can choose her own path and her own love. For the anonymous daughter of Saul, her giant in the sky is not just this Philistine but her own father, the king, and a society that sees a woman’s body as a prize to be won. This giant in the sky continues to threaten women and plague our culture and our church.

At the same time, Israel has also bought into the falsehood that the only way to deal with a brash bully—an enemy—is to end him, believing that killing the opponent will right the wrong and be salvific in some way. The old story of redemptive violence is a myth; it, too, is a giant in the sky that continues to plague our culture and our church.

Israel gets it wrong, and we get it wrong, also.

In our budding narrative of David, the protagonist has yet to speak. Samuel secretly anointed David, and Saul privately received him, and little David played on his harp—halelu—but he has not yet spoken a word; no, David speaking is a first in this story. #firstime. Of course, we all know that this really is not the first time for David to speak. David—the subaltern, the eighth of eight kids, the runt of the litter—has no doubt spoken, just no one has heard him or has cared to listen. We might wonder what David said to his dad, Jesse, or to Samuel. Did David ask Saul for his favorite top 40 as he picked up his lyre to soothe the troubled king? Did he cheer and jeer with his older brothers, saying, “Oh yeah, I’ll show you.”

After hearing the terrifying taunt of this giant in the sky, David considers his options, and asks, “Who is this uncircumcised Philistine that he should defy the armies of the living God?” Of course, David’s older and certainly stronger brother tells David to put a sock in it, saying, “I know your presumption and the evil of your heart.” Do you think David has heard this cruel comment before from his brothers? David comes back at his sibling, saying, “Now what have I done? Can’t I even speak?” Maybe David was just dreaming of slaying the giant, his head in the clouds. Given what we will learn of David, that’s certainly a possibility. And maybe David was sensing something beyond himself—a calling, if you will—and members of his own family label him presumptuous and declare his heart to be evil. Sometimes the giants in the sky are our sisters and brothers, members of our family.

Nevertheless, Saul hears of this David and sends for him. David, now in the presence of the king, has the audacity to speak first. There is no exchange of pleasantries, Saul does not say, “It has come to my attention that you…” No, this David—the anointed one—in the presence of King Saul, says, “Let no one’s heart fail because of him; your servant will go and fight with this Philistine.”

Saul turns to consult the recently-revised human resources manual for the Israeli armies, which was the result of an Illumination Project and complete with an Implementation Plan. Saul quotes from the military handbook saying, “You are not able to go against this Philistine to fight with him; for you are just a boy.” The giant in the sky before David is not Goliath of Gath, nor is it King Saul; rather the giant in the sky is a policy that says who can and cannot go, who can and cannot do the work of the Lord.

I know something about this giant in the sky, and you do, too. I have loved the church from birth. I think anyone who is born on Easter Sunday has to love the church; love is in the DNA, but I knew, too, from an early age, that there was a conflict within me. Of course, that internal dilemma played out before my eyes not just in my own closet but within the Baptist churches to which I belonged and within my family. Sexual orientation was the giant in my sky, or so I thought, and I did not know how to overcome it. My heart was failing, and my soul was greatly troubled, and though I didn’t have a harpist play my top 40, a certain Baptist, Cynthia Clawson, formerly of Austin, was able to sing comfort to my weary soul. Despite my most fervent prayers, God did not deliver me from my sexual orientation; instead God provided strength to live fully into who God created me to be, which included going to seminary and seeking ordination. There are still giants in the sky, and to me they look like Illumination Projects and Implementation Plans, churches, denominations, cake bakers, and state and federal law. ‘You cannot go and you cannot do because of who you are,’ these giants all say. If I am honest with you, I often want to take a trip to the riverbed and look for smooth stones that I might through at these giants.

You know these giants, too, First Baptist Austin. An affirming stance resulted in your ex-communication from the Baptist General Convention of Texas and a tense relationship with the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship. And, the giants in your sky are not solely about sexual orientation. The courage of this congregation and your pastor has caused no shortage of giants in the sky to hurl their appalling accusations against you. As a result, you, too, may want to take a trip to Barton Creek and look for smooth stones that you might throw at these giants.

You and I can choose to buy into the same myth of redemptive violence that has plagued our word for millennia, or we might pursue another way, call it “the” way.

Surprisingly, David does not even hear Saul’s rejection. He does not acknowledge it or give it any power; rather, he says, “Your servant used to keep sheep for his father; and whenever a lion or a bear came, and took a lamb from the flock, I went after it and struck it down, rescuing the lamb from its mouth; and if it turned against me, I would catch it by the jaw, strike it down, and kill it. Your servant has killed both lions, tigers, and bears, oh my.” David’s resume is short and brief, and it—at least in terms of power, might, and brute strength—pales in comparison to Goliath of Gath’s stature and status. Imagine the referee finally announcing David, “And shepherd boy of three cubits minus a span, weighing in at 150 pounds… David of Jesse.” The Israeli army would not be cheering as the Philistines did with Goliath. David’s brothers would even say, “This won’t end well.”

David continues speaking to Saul, and says, “YHWH, the Lord, who saved me from the paw of the lion and from the paw of the bear, will save me from the hand of this Philistine.” Here the whole narrative turns. Just as David speaks for the first time, this moment is the first time in the narrative that one dares to utter the name YHWH, the Lord who is present in the second creation story, the Lord who calls Sarai and Abram, the Lord which disturbs Jacob’s sleep, the Lord who meets Moses on a small mountain, and the Lord who delivered the people from an evil oppressor. David says It’s YHWH who delivered me from the paw of the lion; It’s YHWH who delivered me from the paw of the bear; it’s YHWH who will deliver me from the hand of this Philistine.

Hear the good news, beloved of GOD, YHWH is still at work in this world, even now, this day, today and every day, and this YHWH will deliver you and me from the giants in the sky. Or as the hymnwriter wrote, “The soul that on Jesus hath leaned for repose I will not, I will not desert to its foes; that soul, though all hell should endeavor to shake, I'll never, no never, no never forsake!”

Smooth stones will not deliver; YHWH, the Lord of hosts, always delivers.

Immediately after David speaks the name of the Lord, Saul becomes liberated to claim the divine name, too, saying, “Go and may YHWH, the Lord, be with you.” Sometimes our proclamation of the divine name gives others the resolve to express faith again in the Holy One of Old.

Of course, old habits die hard, so Saul tries to outfit David in the finest military gear. Sometimes the lure of the familiar and our desire for safety and security make us retreat into the routine of military might. We think we can defeat the giants in the sky on the giants’ own terms. Such encumbrances weigh us down. For David, he is immobilized not by fear and terror but by armament; he cannot move. The same is true for us when we trust in what is seen rather than hoping for what is yet-to-be-seen. Confidence in the coming deliverance of YHWH is a courageous conviction when we can cover our cowardice with a coat of arms.

Light-weight David meets heavy-weight Goliath in the valley. Goliath resumes his raucous rant, laughing, “Am I a dog, that you come to me with sticks?” And Goliath curses David by his gods. David answers, “You come to me with sword and spear and javelin; but I come to you in the name of the YHWH, the Lord of hosts, whom you have defied.”

Goliath has defied the Holy One of Old, as giants in the sky always do. We live in a time in which giants defy the Holy One. When the Implementation Plan of the Illumination Project of the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship maligns God’s LGBTQ children, the CBF is defying YHWH the Lord of Hosts. When 2300 children are separated from their parents, we can be sure that we—us—the US—we are defying YHWH the Lord of hosts. When Antwon Rose, a seventeen-year-old African American male was shot in the back and killed by police in East Pittsburgh on Tuesday of this past week, we know that our systems of policing are defying YHWH the Lord of hosts. When the United States withdraws from the United Nations Human Rights Council, we are defying YHWH the Lord of hosts. A young David may be coming toward us, smooth stones and sling in hand, declaring, “You come to me with policy, military might, and sanctions; but I come to you in the name of the YHWH, the Lord of hosts, whom you have defied.” We are the giants in another’s sky.

The story of David and Goliath has a violent end, one that I wish were not in holy writ, but just because David and Goliath’s story ends in bloodshed does not mean that our narrative must do the same. Rather than picking up smooth stones in the wadi, we can bring gifts of grape and grain, build a bigger table, and extend an extravagant welcome without condition. And…we can remove our helmets and our coat of arms, beating our swords into ploughshares, and our spears into pruning hooks. No more giants waging war!

There are giants in the sky. There are big tall terrible giants in the sky. And YHWH, the Lord of hosts will deliver us from them and from being them.

Amen.

*artwork: Statue of David, by Michelangelo, academia.org