Isaiah 43:1-3a
Romans 12:1-2November 3, 1996 I Have Called You by Name, You Are Mine
by Dr. William Sloane Coffin
How do we honor the saints? How do we further their highest hopes for us and the world? I think we could do a lot worse, on All Saints Sunday, than to remember the vocation to which we are called, all of us in equal measure. And so I chose as the text the words we just heard, "I have called you by name, you are mine, says the Lord." Which raises the question: Whose are we really? Who tells us who we are? It's not that easy. Let me illustrate.
For 18 years I was chaplain of Yale University. It was natural that graduating students eager to get on to graduate school-not having recognized that education kills by degrees-should come to the chaplain for letters of recommendation. And brilliant letters of recommendation I wrote. To such highfalutin institutions of higher education as Columbia Law School or the Harvard Medical School, I often wrote, "This candidate will undoubtedly be in the bottom quarter of your class. But surely you will agree with me that the bottom quarter should be as carefully selected as the top quarter. And for what would you be looking in the bottom quarter of the class if not for the sterling extracurricular qualities so eminently embodied in this candidate?" And I would list them: loving, conscientious, will not seek private gain but rather to serve the public good.
Now I showed the letter to the students. Now you're not going to believe this, but their feelings invariably were hurt. "How do you know I'm going to be in the bottom quarter of the class?" "Well, all the evidence is in, isn't it?" "Well, you didn't have to tell them."
Now you see what's going on? Just to get into a place like Yale, you have to be in the 99.6th percentile; to graduate, in the 99.7th percentile. To get into the Columbia Law School or Harvard Medical School, you have to be in the 99.8th percentile of all students in this country. Just because I didn't say they were going to be in the 99.9th percentile-and never mind that I said they were loving, conscientious, would serve the common good, would not seek private gain-their feelings were hurt. Such is the power of institutions of higher education to tell you who you are.
"I have called you by name you are mine, says the Lord." Well, let's think for a moment. Some people need money to tell them who they are. I almost thought the Senior Pastor here was one of them; she hit me for a few dollars just before the service so she could announce that almost $2,700 had been raised. But that's not really who tells her who she is. But I am always interested that those most capable of paying taxes are the most reluctant to do so. Now they will give to charity, because charity confirms us in our notion that our money is powerful. But taxes are like Delilah's shears. They come along cutting at the root of the strength, revealing the underlying equality.
In this election week, we can recall that some people need power to tell them who they are. Abraham Lincoln in 1847 stood up in the House of Representatives to declare that the war against Mexico was both unnecessary and unconstitutional. He was willing to risk something big for something good, and it cost him the election. How many in our Congress today would risk something big for something good?
Some people need enemies to tell them who they are. Whites-some whites-still need African Americans; some African Americans need whites; straights need gays. Anti-Communists were in terrible shape when the Berlin Wall came down, until they raised liberals to the sort of moral status of Communists. But it works on both sides. Some of you will remember on March 31, 1968, when President Johnson announced he would not stand for reelection in the middle of the War in Vietnam. Half a million people in the so-called American peace movement lost their identity-who are we without President Johnson? Well, fortunately Richard Nixon came along and restored it to them.
And I can report to you, as a pastor, a lot of people need their sins to tell them who they are. The way we hold close to us our sins, you'd think they were the holiest things in our lives.
So it's a good question. Who tells us who we are? And it's a wonderful line: "I have called you by name, you are mine, says the Lord." Now let's think for a moment. What difference does it make if we really believe that, if we allow God to tell us who we are? One thing: you never have to prove yourself. That's all taken care of. You do have to express yourself, but you do not have to prove yourself. Now what do we mean by that? We don't have to prove ourselves because we believe that God loves, universally, everyone on this planet, from the Pope to the loneliest wino on earth.
And we believe that God's love doesn't seek value; it creates it. It's not because we have value that we are loved, but rather because we are loved that we have value. Our value is not an achievement; it's a gift. That is a fundamental religious conviction. Now a lot of people have trouble with that. How can God love me? I'm such an ordinary person. Well, that's true. But God loves ordinary people; that's why he made so many of us. Think for a moment of the crowd sitting on the mountainside listening to the famous sermon. There wasn't a Sadducee, there wasn't a Pharisee, there wasn't a Roman Centurion among them, as far as we know. Not a Hillary Rodham Clinton, not an Elizabeth Dole. These were ordinary, run-of-the-mill folk-the kind likely as not to beg their leaders to lead them back to Egypt; the kind likely as not to stone the prophets or, worse yet, ignore the; the kind likely as not to have no other aspirations than at the end of their life to have the right regrets. And yet it was these ordinary, run-of-the-mill folk to whom Jesus said, "You are the sale of the earth. You are the light of the world."
Now I ask you: has ordinary humanity ever had so high a compliment from so informed a source? "I have called you by name, you are mine." Love of exquisite value, unprecedented and irrepeatable. Now we certainly don't have to prove ourselves, but we do have to express ourselves. "You are the light of the world. You are the salt of the earth."
And what does it mean to express ourselves? Basically it means in gratitude to return God's love with our own, generally through loving service to other people. Easily said; not easily done. That means we don't have to make money; we have to make a difference. We don't have to be successful; we have to be valuable. We must not let knowledge tell us who we are; we must not let power, we must not let money, our enemies, and most of all not allow our sins to tell us who we are when we believe there's more mercy in God than sin in us.
It is not easy to hear, and truly believe, "You are mine, I have called you by name." And Isaiah seems to recognize that this is no piece of cake, because no sooner does he say that than he says, "When you pass through the waters I'll be with you, and through the rivers they shall not overwhelm you. When you walk through fire, you shall not be burned and the flames will not consume you." I gather it was only last Sunday you sang that: "When through fiery trials I call on thee to go, the rivers of woe shall not thee overflow. For I will be with you your troubles to bless and sanctify to you your deepest distress." No, it is not easy not to be conformed to this world. It is not easy to hear and truly believe, "I have called you by name, you are mine, says the Lord."
But let me suggest it's too boring to live any other way. It is so boring, and you become so bored and boring, when you allow money to tell you who you are, when you allow power or knowledge or anything but God-God who can expand your horizons, God whose love always expands and never constricts. That's the interesting, profound way, because that's the way we were all made and meant to live.
Well, on this All Saints Sunday, I think it's well to remember that they were the salt of the earth; they were the light of the world. And if we're to further their highest hopes, we'd better remember that we too are the salt of the earth, the light of the world. If we remember that line and truly believe it-"I have called you by name, you are mine, says the Lord"-we will honor the past and bring bright hopes to the future. Amen.
Copyright © 1996, First Congregational Church of Berkeley