(Homily for Gayton Road Christian Church's Sunday Worship on March 12, 2017, Lent II)
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Of Sundays and Sundaes
Did you know that if it weren’t for the church, we wouldn’t have sundaes? I don’t mean the day “Sunday.” I mean the ice cream sundae.
The origin of the ice cream sundae is, in fact, a great debate. Two towns claim it. But whichever story you believe, the fact remains the same: the ice cream sundae would never have come about without the church.
Two Rivers, Wisconsin, holds the earliest claim to 1891. Back in that day, ice cream sodas were a hit at the local drug store. So much of a hit, in fact, that the church felt threatened. And so it exercised its holy influence to make a law against ice cream sodas on Sunday. One customer, however, simply would not be deprived of his Sunday treat. And so he made a crafty compromise: don’t put any soda in with the ice cream, he told the druggist, since that would be illegal; just put in a little chocolate syrup. The druggist protested, “You don’t want to ruin the flavor of the ice cream,” but the customer replied, “I’ll try anything once.” And the sundae was born.
Ithaca, New York, holds a competing claim to the sundae that dates back to 1892. Its story is simpler, and one that I can relate to. One of the pastors had a habit of visiting the local pharmacy after church for a bit of rest and refreshment. On one particular Sunday, the shop proprietor, who was a friend of the pastor, wanted to treat the reverend to something special, so he tried something new: he drizzled cherry syrup on the ice cream and topped it all with a candied cherry. And the sundae was born.[1]
I don’t know how the sundae really came about. But I’m glad it did. Growing up, I remember how excited my brother and I would get when the family went out to Ryan’s Steakhouse or one of those places that had an ice cream bar. I guess today, you can do the same sort of thing at Sweet Frog. My brother and I each had our favorite toppings: I liked the chocolate sauce; his creation wouldn’t be complete without a cherry on top. Chances are, you have your own favorite topping. When we look at a bowl of plain vanilla ice cream, we all probably think to ourselves, “Something’s missing.” Maybe nuts or granola. Maybe chocolate or caramel. Maybe the proverbial cherry on top.
“Something’s Missing”
You’ve heard it said that life is like a box of chocolates. But I say unto you that life is like an ice cream sundae. We live life like it’s a bowl of ice cream and something’s missing. We’re always looking for the cherry on top, the topping that will make everything complete. We live life like an ice cream bar, and even after we’ve added a sprinkle of this and a few dashes of that, we keep thinking, “Something’s missing.”
But today’s scripture, which tells us about the family where faith is born, the family whose faith inspires the world’s major religions, invites us to look at life a bit differently. Today’s story suggests that faith is about much more than looking for the cherry on top, than finding the topping that will make everything complete.
What Is This Blessing That God Promised?
If we had never heard any of the famous stories about the family of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, we would probably read today’s scripture with the anticipation of a much different conclusion to their story. I remember in first grade, how my teacher would often pause at the end of a page and ask the class what we thought would happen on the next page. If I were reading the story of Abraham for the first time, and I had just read about God promising Abraham blessing and greatness, I would probably think the next page would show Abraham dressed as a king, settled in a great palace, surrounded by a full family with many children, princes and princesses, owning many possessions, and governing this new land that God had given him. In fact, the next page would show something completely different: Abraham and his wife Sarah wandering the wilderness of Canaan, worrying about famine, camped out under an oak tree, childless and aging, living at the mercy of the natives. Over the course of their journey, they will travel to Egypt and back, they will haggle for their lives with foreign kings, they will just barely escape death from an inhospitable city, they will worry for years about having a child, and then once they have one, they will worry about keeping him alive.
What is this blessing that God had promised them? It’s certainly not the cherry on top, nor is it the final piece to the puzzle. If anything, the puzzle of life became even more complicated after Abraham left his home. I wonder sometimes if Abraham ever paused and reconsidered his decision. He had been living in a thriving metropolis, Haran. He had his father and his brothers alongside him. He presumably had made friends and had picked up a trade. He would have had a secured and settled life. All that was missing was the cherry on top. Happily ever after was nearly within his reach.
The Blessing Is What’s Missing
So what is this blessing that God promised? If Abraham’s life is any indication, it’s not security and satisfaction. That is what Abraham leaves behind when he leaves his land, his family, and his home. If Abraham’s life gives us any clue, the blessing of God is wrapped up in risk and uncertainty, in problems and possibilities. The blessing of God dwells in the wilderness. It lingers in the barren womb.
Most of the world thinks of blessing as a cherry on a top, as something that will complete what’s missing. But the story of Abraham suggests the opposite. It shows us a life that is always missing something: missing a home, missing children, missing security. It suggests that blessing is not the completion of what’s missing, but simply what’s missing.
I recently heard someone share the saddest thing he’d ever seen. It was a greyhound dog, a race dog, who his whole life had run races, chasing after a bit of cloth shaped like a rabbit. One day in the park, the dog broke free from its leash, and seeing a squirrel nearby, he raced after it. What followed was an unfortunate scene, but the saddest thing of all was the look in the greyhound’s eyes when it was all done. “He just sat there, confused. [He] had spent his whole life trying to catch that thing. Now [he] had no idea what to do.”[2]
Not the End, but the Beginning
The common thought is that God is the end of the journey, that God completes what’s missing. But I wonder if somewhere along the way we’ve gotten it turned around. I wonder if Abraham’s story is a hint that things are the opposite. Maybe God isn’t the end of the journey, but the beginning. Maybe God doesn’t complete what’s missing, but stirs us to life through what’s missing.
If that’s the case, then I think we can all begin to recognize how we are already on a journey like Abraham. I’m betting that deep down, we have all felt whatever Abraham felt, or heard whatever he heard, that led him to leave behind what he knew and go into the unknown. Think for a moment: have you ever felt drawn to do something that would lead you out of your comfort zone? What was that feeling? Why did you do that?
I can recall several decisive moments in my life when I left what I knew. I didn’t literally leave hearth and home like Abraham—you don’t have to leave your front door, sometimes, to leave behind all that you thought you knew. What I left behind was the routine and the familiar comforts behind which I had been nursing my wounds. And I reached out to strangers to whom I normally would not have reached out. Not because I thought they were the cherry on top. I didn’t want completeness. I simply felt that there was more, and I desired more—and part of me wonders if that desire was not in fact part of God’s desire. I didn’t want the end of things, a happily ever after. I wanted a beginning, a beginning that would lead to more beginnings. And as I walked into the unknown and came to share my joys and my sorrows with these strangers, I think that somehow the blessing of God took shape. I think I became both blessed and a blessing. Because I needed these strangers. And they, perhaps, needed me.
God bless what’s missing, what will always be missing. For that is the blessing of more life. What’s missing is not a cherry on top or a final puzzle piece. What’s missing is the next stranger and the next encounter; the next decision and the next possibility; the next problem and the next miracle. What’s missing is the next page, where, yes, there might be wilderness and worry, but also a God who uses even that—especially that—to bless us and all the families of the earth together.
Prayer
Insistent and caring God,
Whose blessing
Is also a call
Into the unknown:
Bless us
With a holy sense
Of what's missing,
Of all the ways
Your love may yet bring new life,
Even and especially in our woundedness and our weakness.
In the name of Jesus: Amen.
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[1] These two stories draw from the histories compiled on Jeff Wells, “The Great Debate over the Origin of the Ice Cream Sundae,” http://mentalfloss.com/article/83345/great-debate-over-origin-ice-cream-sundae, accessed March 8, 2017, and “History of Ice Cream Sundae,” https://whatscookingamerica.net/History/IceCream/Sundae.htm, accessed March 8, 2017.
[2] From Westworld, “Contrapasso”; directed by Johnny Campbell; written by Jonathan Nolan and Lisa Joy; HBO, October 30, 2016.
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