Dr. William A. Ritter
First United Methodist Church
Birmingham, Michigan
Scripture: Exodus 20:1-6
February 25, 2004
Then God spoke all these words. I am the Lord your God who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery, you shall have no other gods before me.
You shall not make for yourself an idol, whether in the form of anything that is in heaven above, or that is on the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth. You shall not bow down to them or worship them. For I the Lord your God am a jealous God, punishing children for the iniquity of the parents to the third and fourth generation of those who reject me, but showing steadfast love to the thousandth generation of those who love me and keep my commandments.
Sermon
Whenever people back me into a corner as regards my understanding of scripture, I am often led to say: “I take all of the Bible seriously. But I do not take every word of the Bible literally.” Which Bryant Oskvig would understand.
Who is Bryant Oskvig? He is a young minister on the staff of Asbury First United Methodist Church in Rochester, New York. I met him earlier this month when I led a workshop there on Saturday and preached there on Sunday. It was Bryant’s job to drive us around Rochester on Saturday afternoon, which was how we came to hear his family history over lunch. The name Oskvig is Norwegian. Actually, it’s a misspelling of a Norwegian name. When his great-grandfather came from Norway at the age of twelve, he couldn’t read or write. So when the people at Ellis Island asked him to spell his name, he did the best he could. And it’s been that way ever since.
His great-grandfather’s first name was Ordin….Ordin Oskvig….and when he arrived in this country, he had enough money to pay for a train trip to Normal, Illinois (where he would presumably meet countrymen who were pre-arranged to care for him). But given his problem with English, he missed the Normal stop and didn’t get off until Iowa Falls, Iowa. But, resourceful as he was, he met a farmer, hired on as a field worker, and eventually saved enough money to purchase some acreage for himself at age nineteen. Whereupon he sent back to Norway for a bride and took her, sight unseen.
Ordin Oskvig was not only a hard worker, but something of a card shark. Gambling one night with a building supplier and a local contractor, he cleaned them out. When they challenged him to go double or nothing, he cleaned them out again. Still hopeful of getting their money back, they invited him to put everything on the line one more time. To which he said: “If you win, you will get your money back. If I win, you will build me a house in seven days.” He won. They built. And, to this very day, that house is still in the Oskvig family.
On another night, Ordin Oskvig played cards for money against the Lutheran pastor. Again, he won. But convinced that he was cheating, his pastor publicly disowned him and barred him from receiving communion. His wife could come. But Ordin Oskvig was persona non grata at the table of the Lord.
Unfortunately, this particular Lutheran pastor read the Bible with the kind of rigidity one seldom sees anymore. Believing that the sins of the father were to be visited upon the children of the third and fourth generation, no Oskvig male has been allowed to receive communion in the Lutheran church in Iowa Falls, Iowa from that day forward. As to why the pastor limited the ban to males, I am not entirely sure. Apparently there are variations on the original translation that exempt females from the curse. But Bryant Oskvig….four generations removed (and a United Methodist minister in good standing) is still unwelcome at that Iowa table.
Strangely enough, many members of the Oskvig family continued worshiping in the church, even to the point of serving as ushers and members of the governing board. But, as Bryant recalls, “My father was confirmed in a church in which he was never allowed to take communion.” Should Bryant get married and have a son, the ban will be lifted. But the son still won’t be welcome….not because of the generational curse, but because of his Methodist affiliation.
I asked Bryant how he became a United Methodist. His answer is both fascinating and frightening. Apparently, his dad (a Lutheran) married his mother (a Methodist). His father was in medical school at the University of Rochester. And once the dust of marital negotiations settled, the young couple decided to join a local Lutheran church. But when the letter of transfer came from Iowa Falls to Rochester, the curse was referenced. Whereupon the pastor in Rochester said: “We’d love to have you as members, but we can’t let you come to the table of the Lord. Your wife, yes. You, no.” The pastor was sorry. But there was nothing he could do.
* * * * *
Bryant laughs about that now. But there is pain beneath the laughter….pain that has its origin in a literal translation of holy scripture. Because of a relative Bryant never knew, gambling against a pastor Bryant never met, the sacramental means of grace have been unavailable to Oskvig males for more than a century. Is it really God’s intention that sins be carried on the books that long?
Well, whether it is God’s intention or not, it happens. A crack addicted mother begets a crack addicted daughter and, from infancy forward, that child will pay for her mother’s sins. Or the gossip in a small town will say (concerning one of the teenagers in that town): “He ain’t no good. But what did you expect? His daddy wasn’t any good before him. And as far as any of us can remember, his granddaddy wasn’t much good, either.” Which has nothing to do with genetics. But when nobody in the family (or in the town) expects anything of you, it’s pretty easy to live down to their expectations. Sins do thread themselves through families. And people pay the price of things that began long before they were born.
Whenever I talk to kids about grace, I ask them what it would be like if all of their sins were posted, day after day, on the refrigerator door. After all, we post everything else there. What if (in our growing-up years) every indiscretion, omission, screw-up or fall from grace were printed on little yellow post-it notes and attached to the refrigerator door?
Billy’s sins for Wednesday:
· forgot to feed cat
· kicked cat
· left milk glass in family room
· blew off his math assignment
· used a four letter word to describe his sister
And if that weren’t enough, what if a list of Thursday’s sins was written out and attached to the bottom of the list from Wednesday? And what if Friday yielded its own list, with the weekend bringing two additional pages? Pretty soon there would be little yellow post-it notes all over the refrigerator, with a paper trail of Billy’s sinfulness doubled back against itself for all the world to see. And how many weeks would it take before Billy’s sins would expand to cover the walls, the ceilings, the cabinet doors and the pantry where the canned goods are kept? Pretty soon, Billy wouldn’t want to come into the kitchen anymore and would take to eating most of his meals out. And it wouldn’t be all that big a step for Billy to fantasize about torching the kitchen, so as to put an end to this trail of pain, once and for all.
When Paul talks about the “weight of sin,” he is talking about Billy and the burden of Billy’s record. But he’s also talking about Bryant and the burden of the Oskvig record. What if it all piles up? What if it never gets unstuck from the doors, walls and closets of our lives? What if it all stays there and screams at us, day after day, in a bitter chorus of condemnation? And even if we forget, what if there is always someone around to remind us (like a parent….or a wife….or a husband) of all the stupid, sick and sinful things we did an hour ago, a day ago, a week ago, thirteen years ago, or so long ago we have to take it on faith that our past is being remembered accurately?
Yes, Ash Wednesday exists to remind us of our sin. Whether we apply the ashes to our forehead or simply note the fact that they are sitting there in that bowl, all of us are smudged. But the ashes are not the only earthy elements present in this service. There is bread from the grains of the earth and juice from the grapes of the earth. All of which serves to remind us that it need not stay forever with us….our sin, I mean.
It is the wonderful language of the Christian faith that our sins can be washed away. They can be washed away by the waters of baptism, the wine of communion, and the blood of the cross. Imagery? Of course it’s imagery. But grace-full imagery is always liquid imagery. Picture God’s mercy trickling on down….washing on down….even flooding on down. Or if you don’t like that, picture the proverbial rain that falls on the just and the unjust. But remember that rain (from the Bible’s perspective) is never considered to be a curse or an inconvenience, but a blessing and sign of grace. Or if you don’t like that, picture, in the words of a beloved spiritual, “peace like a river, love like an ocean, or joy like a fountain in your soul.” What is the old Baptist hymn they sang in Robert Duvall’s great film, Tender Mercies?
O happy day, O happy day,
When Jesus washed my sins away.
He taught me how to love and pray,
And live rejoicing, every day.
O happy day, O happy day,
When Jesus washed my sins away.
The next time any of you see Bryant Oskvig, why not sing it to him?
