“Abounding In Steadfast Love” Psalm 86:1-10, 16-17

Sermon June 21, 2020 Father’s Day

CALL TO WORSHIP Come, dwell in the shelter of the Most High; abide in the shadow of the Almighty. God is our refuge and our fortress; in God we trust. God will deliver you from the terrors of night; in this place, you will find the shelter of God’s wings. God is with us as we gather; God will keep us where ever we go. Pause to experience the grace of God; know that God values you, individually and together. How awesome is this place! This is the house of God and the gate of heaven.

(Note, you are encouraged to try reading aloud the scripture passage.)

Psalm 86:1-10, 16-17 Incline your ear, O LORD, and answer me, for I am poor and needy.

Preserve my life, for I am devoted to you; save your servant who trusts in you. You are my God; be gracious to me, O Lord, for to you do I cry all day long. Gladden the soul of your servant, for to you, O Lord, I lift up my soul. For you, O Lord, are good and forgiving, abounding in steadfast love to all who call on you.

Give ear, O LORD, to my prayer; listen to my cry of supplication. In the day of my trouble I call on you, for you will answer me. There is none like you among the gods, O Lord, nor are there any works like yours. All the nations you have made shall come and bow down before you, O Lord, and shall glorify your name. For you are great and do wondrous things; you alone are God.

Turn to me and be gracious to me; give your strength to your servant; save the child of your serving girl. Show me a sign of your favor, so that those who hate me may see it and be put to shame, because you, LORD, have helped me and comforted me.

“Abounding In Steadfast Love” Psalm 86:1-10, 16-17

Rev. Michael P. Catanzaro

I.

No times like old times.

We have a standing joke in our family: whatever week is the sunniest and hottest of the summer, you can be sure that is a week we’ve rented the cottage and are living here in town. Unfortunately, this seems to be very much the case this year as evidenced by the terrific weather we’ve been experiencing this week.

(If you want, I’ll let you know when we rent so you can plan your own vacation accordingly to be assured of stellar meteorological conditions.)

If the rule continues to hold true, the next three weeks to follow will be just as fine and dandy, as this year we are renting four weeks straight June 13th through July 12th.

Having two kids in college for two years consecutive years, and the third kid deciding to get married the summer between, tends to drive one to extreme measures.

That said, we are thankful for the opportunity to gain a little ground financially to get these kids through college, and help host a wedding (whenever that may be) and, more importantly, really appreciate having a different rhythm to our lives for a time; in particular, summertime at the manse in Canton.

I had a Zoom call with some old college friends a week or so ago, and we all went around to give a little update on our lives. After I had taken my turn, one of them exclaimed, “You’re STILL in Canton!?! It must be at least 20 years at least!” “Going on my 23rd.” I said.

The fact is, Linda and I have spent our entire married lives at this manse. We moved here right after our wedding, Nicole was 5 years old, and Tucker and Arlo were born here; this is the only home our family has ever known; and, what a wonderful home it has been for us.

II.

I’m sharing this with you today because being here in the summer, during such terrific weather when we can be outside, has really put me on stroll down memory lane (such a pleasant detour compared to where we’ve been traveling for the past 3 months).

There simply is no better place to experience Canton in the summer than from the front porch at 2 Park Place.

Here, one has a ring-side seat to the fun of Dairy Princess Weekend, can enjoy the terrific community vibe on Farmer’s Market days, see the RVs and travelers with out-of-state plates picnic in the park, as well as see folks come down in the evenings to enjoy an ice cream cone while sitting at the fountain.

All week we’ve been enjoying eating dinner out on the porch, and, afterward, sitting, reading, doing crosswords and talking. Arlo and Tucker play frisbee with the dog, Bisbee, every night, and old Rev. Mike has even had his guitar out a few times to place some Grateful Dead, Little Feat, the Allman Brothers and Crosby, Stills and Nash.

Linda has been kept busy making chocolate milkshakes for the boys, and the occasional black raspberry ice cream cone for me (the only flavor I will eat; in a sugar cone, of course).

For our first few years in Canton, it seems like we were on that porch ALL THE TIME. Once Tucker was born, I installed an additional, smaller, railing and a baby gate to effectively pen in the kids; with a comfy rug where they could sit and safely play all day. The hammock chair which still hangs on the porch was a gift to Linda on our first Mother’s Day here, and she sat in it and nursed for more hours than she probably cares to remember.

Sitting there every night this week, however, I will admit to an awareness of the conspicuous absence of the sound of softly falling water as the fountain has been shut off for the past several years (we are VERY close on obtaining a contractor, fingers crossed!).

And, in this week leading up to Father’s Day, I’ve been acutely aware of all the changes that have taken place in me as a dad.

III.

I’ll be caring for my mother the next two weeks, beginning tomorrow. One of the most insightful things she ever said to me is, “Being a parent is the hardest job you’ll ever love." Holy cow, was she ever right about that.

I don’t think any mom or dad has the vaguest notion of what will be required of them, as a parent, when they start a family; and certainly not how long that responsibility will last (forever).

At the risk of getting myself in hot water, I would make the further claim that this is particularly true of being a dad. It is a shocking, tumultuous, humbling, exhausting and daunting exercise in patience, self-examination, commitment and, especially, personal growth. It takes a good long while to get one’s feet under oneself as a dad; at least that has been my experience.

Fortunately, there is plenty of time to do so; but not as much as one ever thinks while you’re getting up in the middle of the night to change diapers, having your finger held for hours as your kid toddles about, racing from work to catch a little league game, helping with homework or teaching them to drive a car.

Not to say that every parent can’t teach and provide all things to every kid, but I think dads are particularly well-suited for certain tasks; their “mission” as it were, should they choose to accept it.

Among these are to preserve and protect, to be reliable and trustworthy, to teach goodness & model forgiveness, to help, comfort & gladden the soul, be a good listener and not just a “fixer” or problem solver, and, above all else, to abound in steadfast love.

These just so happen to be the very same attributes we find being ascribed to God in our scripture reading for today from Psalm 86, a classic “Lamentation Psalm.”

Literary criticism (the comparison, analysis, interpretation, and/or evaluation of works of literature) reveals there are actually five distinct categories of psalms: praise, wisdom, royal, thanksgiving, and lament. This last category can be either individual (one person’s struggle) or corporate/communal (struggle of a nation or group), with the purpose of both to express deep sorrow, grief, or regret, along with making a most earnest plea for help.

Admittedly, a deep dive into lamentation is not the ideal sermon topic for Father’s Day; nor is it a dive I intend to take. In choosing Psalm 86 as the sermon text, however, it is my hope to simply point out the importance of having one to whom we might make and take our laments.

IV.

The unusually hot and dry weather we’ve been experiencing of late caused me to recollect a particular portion of our family’s cross-country RV trip a few years back. On the third day of our trip, as we made our way across Indiana, the weather turned incredibly hot and particularly humid.

No problem, I said, I’ll just fire up the on-board generator to power the two roof-top AC units in the RV; easy peasy. So I did, problem solved, wonderfully cool air started to flow.

For about 5 minutes, anyway, then both units just died. Though the generator engine was working fine, it was not producing electricity and, hence, there was no power to the AC units; very bad.

Worse, this was the very same problem we had with the generator prior to our departure which we thought had been repaired (we certainly paid to have it repaired) but apparently not.

With no choice but to push on, we started scrambling to find the necessary part, and a person or business to do the repair. We made our way across Illinois and Missouri, finally arriving in Kansas City late in the afternoon after driving through a torrential, flash-flood producing rain storm (roll up the windows kids).

It was here, some hours earlier, that we had arranged to meet a very kind man who offered to help effect the repair. As he and I tore into the generator, Linda took a walk with the boys in the only slightly cooler air following the rainstorm.

It would be some days later after the generator was, in fact, repaired that Linda would tell me of a conversation she’d had then with our youngest son, Arlo, who was justifiably concerned if we’d have to turn back and head home if the generator couldn’t be fixed. He ask Linda several times, in several different ways in quick succession and each time Linda’s response was the same, “Dad will figure it out. Dad takes care of us.”

V.

Well, Dad did figure it out and Dad did take care of the family, but not in Kansas City that day, and not until after we had driven across the entire state of Kansas in a 100+ degree blast-oven, and most of Colorado to boot.

Turns out, the nice man in Kansas City didn’t have the part, so he ordered it and had it shipped on ahead to me in Colorado Springs where we were to stay two nights with our friends Mike and Gina who had recently moved there from Canton.

The part arrived in time, but even after giving it my best shot I knew enough to know it was beyond me (which turned out to be a very good thing). Besides, I had enough to figure out and take care of at that point changing out the radiator hose which had sprung a leak.

Finally, on our third morning in Colorado Springs, our departure day when we were supposed make the climb up and cross the continental divide to continue our way westward to the Pacific Ocean, we, instead, doubled-back and headed east for about an hour to an old shade tree mechanic we had found who was fairly certain he knew what the problem was; the real problem.

Leaving well before sunrise, we arrived in Callahan CO, population 780, at around 6:30 a.m. to meet Bob “Mack” MacWilliams. He quickly ascertained that though the part did need to be replaced, the bigger issue was something was making the part fail (repeatedly); there was a problem within a problem. Figuring it was electrical in nature, and rather than tearing through all the wiring inside of the RV to track it down, Mack simply ran new wires underneath the RV straight to the generator.

One hour and $200 later we were back on the road heading west again; the kids still asleep in the RV and none the wiser. The generator worked perfectly the entire rest of the trip, and was greatly appreciated, especially traveling through the Mojave Desert.

A couple of nights later, following stops at Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park and Colorado National Monument in Grand Junction, we arrived at Arches National Park in Utah (photo below). Assured the generator was good and fixed, Linda finally told me of her conversation with Arlo: “Dad will figure it out. Dad takes care of us.”

VI.

Though a very different vocabulary and set of circumstances, the tone and underlying meaning of Linda’s words to Arlo are very much akin to the lamentation of the Psalmist, “In the day of my trouble I call on you, for you will answer me”; though, obviously, not to the same degree.

I’ve come to understand and appreciate that for those like us who go through life with a faith in a God who will “figure it out and take care of us,” we have absolutely no idea what it is like to go through life without such a faith or a place to turn to in our faith during times of trouble, need and duress (both personal and corporate/communal); and this is truly a cause for great lamentation.

Though there is certainly much which is problematic and greatly troublesome happening in the world right now, in general, and our own nation, in specific, the bigger issue is what is it about our society deep down which keeps making the parts of it fail? Clearly, there is a problem within the problem(s).

I’m certainly not advocating to simply “Let go and let God,” or that we somehow shouldn’t work to enact individual and institutional change, but if we are to become the society the best in us might imagine we need to move away from a reliance on the cause of the problems to fix the problems; namely, we the people. We need to begin to look beyond ourselves.

VII.

There is a particular term being employed a great deal these days which is as insightful as it is illustrative, being “woke”:

A political term of African-American origin refers to a perceived awareness of issues concerning social justice and racial justice. It is derived from the African-American Vernacular English expression "stay woke", whose grammatical aspect refers to a continuing awareness of these issues.

This new and latest great awakening sweeping the nation is finding more and more sectors of our society being “woke” to the pervasive ways our nation chooses for some and against others.

Some of these, like disproportional educational and economic opportunity, disparate health care, and a lack of diversity in almost every area have been long known and understood; though such an awareness has brought us no comprehensive solutions, let alone resolution.

Other areas, though, are far more indirect and subtle, like brand-names Aunt Jemima, Uncle Ben’s, Eskimo Pie & Mrs. Butterworth’s for example. How do you go from cultural hallmarks to sources of shame in less than a week’s time? Well, someone finally got “woke,” that’s how.

While it is certainly helpful to get “woke” to a seemingly ever-growing litany of problems and short-comings, getting “woke” to the solutions is an entirely different matter.

Renaming the maple syrup we use one our pancakes and waffles (that it isn’t even “real” maple syrup is another issue entirely) removing statues, and legislating statutes certainly solves some problems (thankfully) but will not address the problem within the problem of racism (or any other “ism” for that matter).

For this we need the God of the Psalmist; the God who is abounding in steadfast love, for all people at all time.

The only one who can accomplish the great and wondrous things we require.

The God to whom we can pour out the lamentations of our pain, the truth of our spiritual and moral poverty, and the reality of our physical need.

We pray that in times such as these God may turn to us with graciousness to gladden our hearts. .

VIII.

I’d like to end today where I started, at 2 Park Place, Canton, New York.

One of the things I did this past week was to stain, repair and refurbish the old playground apparatus on the side yard of the manse. Though the new playground equipment is terrific, having more things for kids to play on, and with, is always better; plus, it would have been a herculean task to remove the old structure.

I actually build this our first full summer in Canton 21 years ago. Tucker had just been born, and I was granted paternity leave by the congregation. The church paid for half of the cost of the materials, while Linda and I paid the other half and I supplied the labor.

This was a serious “Dad” undertaking, and was far more carpentry than I has ever done before. Thankfully, Nick Baffaro (and his tools) provided expertise and assistance at a couple of key points (drilling precise holes for the ladder rungs, routing the edges of the teeter-totter, and sculpting the “swoop” where the rider’s legs go).

I admit to a great sense of pride when completed, both as a young father and new pastor. So, perhaps there was more emotional attachment than I realized motivating me to undertake this renewal project.

Though it was a pretty dog-gone hot week to do so, I keep at it (“like a man possessed,” Linda said) and by Saturday (yesterday) it was pretty much done (just waiting on a replacement tarp to arrive Wednesday, and a little staining yet to do on a ladder rung I replaced).

To finish this job on Father’s Day weekend was particularly poignant, especially when I realized that two of the kids for whom the playground was originally built are now grown men helping me to refurbish it for a new generation.

IX.

Standing there in the blazing sun watching Tucker hacksawing bolts and Arlo assisting with the installation of the “pirate ladder” I had an epiphany: this is how God answered my own lament. Not only did this church, in calling me to be the pastor so many years ago, preserve my life, it gave me a life and a family.

Prior to my arrival, I was pretty much down a guitar and the clothes on my back. Frankly, Linda was more than a little crazy in having married me and moving here to Canton.

This church, though, turned out to be God’s answer to my prayers.

A reliable and trustworthy community of faith where our children would be raised and two of the three born, and in which our family would be preserved and protected.

A congregation that would teach a young pastor who didn’t have the vaguest notion of what would be required of him the patience necessary to learn about goodness and how to follow the example of forgiveness it would set.

That together, as a congregation and pastor, we would go on to help and comfort a great many in need, and gladden many souls along the way (including our own); and, in so doing, preserve and protect this old church for another generation (not to mention having a pretty extensive and very cool playground).

This morning, on Father’s Day, I give thanks for all of you, the church that was and the church that is, in making it possible for me to be a father; and I offer thanks to God for turning to me and being gracious to me through this church and home abounding in steadfast love.

Thanks for figuring me out, thanks for taking care of us. Amen.