Several weeks ago Michelle and I had a special pastors meeting to plan sermons for September. It is not our usual practice but we decided to try something new. “How about a series on the lectionary texts from Jeremiah?” (Both nodding uneasily.) Ok.

I haven’t spent much time with Jeremiah, though I have lived next door to him for the past twenty years. My neighbor, Jeremiah, originally from Jamaica – not Judah, usually just goes by Jerry. The biblical Jerry, well, I do know the familiar texts that often get quoted, “I will write my covenant on your heart” and “Seek the peace of the city.”  But beyond that, Jeremiah is more of a mystery.

Now that I have started reading him in earnest, I wish I could make more sense of it all. The book of Jeremiah is long and though it covers life in Judah and Israel over more than five decades, it is not always chronologically organized. Sometimes it is written in Jeremiah’s voice and sometimes it is in the voice of his scribe Baruch, and some of it is later additions by ancient editors making clarifications. And there is a lot of repetition.

During the time Jeremiah is written there are multiple kings, shifting politics, land disputes. I have read numerous commentaries and I can’t say that I truly understand Jeremiah’s historical context. I can say that the good king of Judah is defeated, there are disputes between Israel, Judah, the Assyrian empire, the Babylonian empire; the Jewish people are oppressed, and end up in exile. (If this kind of history is something that interests and excites you, do delve into it in the next month and share your knowledge with us, please.) Amidst really difficult circumstances, Jeremiah has the traditional prophet’s job – calling the people to faithfulness again and again.

At the beginning Jeremiah sounds a bit whiny, “But I am only a child, I can’t speak for God.” Soon enough he seems all too comfortable saying, “God says ‘If you don’t change your evil ways, I will destroy you.’” But Jeremiah also has a lovely way of looking toward the future in hope: a new day is coming when newlyweds will celebrate in the streets (chapter 31).

The book of Jeremiah features a number of object lessons, like the one today with the potter and the clay. Jeremiah sometimes participates in the symbolic actions himself, like in chapter 13 where God tells Jeremiah to go buy a new loincloth, then take it off and hide it in a crack in a rock. Or in chapter 19 where Jeremiah is told to buy clay jars and smash them to illustrate impending disaster.

Some of the writing is prose, and some is poetry. I can almost imagine the poetry of Jeremiah as spoken word at a poetry slam. He addresses tough issues in a tough time and he is not afraid to let loose with colorful language and poetic word play (most of which is unfortunately lost to us in translation.)

Jeremiah writes from a man’s perspective with a macho husband/father God that will destroy as he wishes. Also problematic, for this feminist, are the metaphors comparing unfaithful Israel to an unfaithful wife, calling her a whore. (chapter 3) I can’t help wondering what it would be like if instead of God being the angry husband with the unfaithful wife, God was pictured as a caring wife who waits for the philandering partner to return. What might that mean for the way we have come to understand faith, tradition, ethics? To be totally fair, Jeremiah does not exempt men from the difficult metaphors. In chapter 5 the unfaithful men are compared to “lusty stallions” neighing for their neighbors wives.

In the next month we might wonder together how our own context relates to Jeremiah’s. Certainly we live in the heart of the empire and with the election approaching, (only 64 more days but who’s counting) we are in the midst of a power shift. We see demands for loyalty to the nation, to the flag, to the constitution. It’s not just country and politicians but corporations, brands and causes that want our attention, time and money. How do we remain faithful to God’s way, to the way of Jesus, when so many other voices call for our consideration? Who are the prophetic voices today that help us identify the Holy in the midst of the chaotic noise?

Our specific text today describes Jeremiah’s experience when he hears God tell him to go to the potter’s house. With such an obvious object lesson, I couldn’t help but arrange a visit with my own local potter. I rode bike to Red Dirt Studios, housed in the old firehouse in Mt. Rainier and met potter, Raina Martens. Being there, with a potter, seeing the wheel, the clay and pots in various stages, I can see how Jeremiah is overwhelmed with the metaphor and hears God speak. Raina, with her electric potters wheel, makes it look easy, but I can tell there is a chance that things will turn out badly and she will have to try again, creating anew.

The word of YHWH came to me, “House of Israel, can I not do to you what this potter does? – It is YHWH who speaks.

I can almost hear Jeremiah wondering about all of this. “Oh, now I get it. Look at how that clay gets worked and reworked. I can identify with how it gets slammed down on the wheel and then slowly gets built back up into something. Oops, not quite the right thing. The potter is starting over, ouch. Hmm, is this kind of how God works in the world? Is this God speaking to me? This must be God speaking to me – through me.”

Jeremiah goes on, the way the prophet Nathan did with King David, to make a general case with this metaphor, sort of soften up the people, get them thinking about this image – the way the potter deals with the clay, this is how God deals with the nations, building up and tearing down depending on how well they please God. Then Aha, it is really you I am talking about. You, Judah and Jerusalem, you are this clay. Watch what you are doing. I am preparing a disaster for you! Turn from your evil ways.

While Jeremiah’s potter throws pots, cups, wine jars for a practical purposes, Raina throws pots to bring beauty and pleasure into the world, and she hopes they have a deeper meaning. Without an intermediary, Raina combines pottery and the prophetic in one. One of Raina’s projects involves making a glaze from incinerator ash. This is ash made from refuse collected in DC and incinerated by an unnamed company in Virginia.

This ash is dangerous stuff (which is why the company wants to remain anonymous.) Raina has to wear gloves and a respirator to protect herself when she works with it. The cast off trash, which is burned by a company who makes money off it, gives Raina the ash and she turns it into something useful and beautiful. The remnants become glaze that strengthen the final creation when fired. It is sort of the reverse of the symbolism that Jeremiah uses. Rather than destroying what seems inadequate, Raina reworks what was toxic and tries to give it a new use.

Perhaps it is coming from so many generations of pacifists that makes me cringe at Jeremiah’s violent image of God, destroying the would-be clay pot. Or maybe it is seeing Raina find a new use for what is deemed dangerous that makes me want more options. Or maybe I am so deeply embedded in a life of privilege that I can’t see the hope that is contained in the destruction of imperfect power structures. Or maybe one needs to take the long view of history to be able to appreciate what Jeremiah is trying to tell the people.

Maybe all of what I am about to say should be taken with a grain of salt. (But remember, Jesus says we are to be salt.)

What I learned from Raina the potter is that when you are making something on the wheel, there is always some clay that has to be removed. It is extra or it is too wet; when the creation begins to emerge it is clear that there are parts that must go. That superfluous clay gets put in a container and gets mixed with other clay from previous projects. The clay sits and waits until there are enough handfuls and remnants that it can all be joined together and made into a new creation. According to Raina, this previously discarded clay becomes the best clay to work with; it is more flexible and elastic, and it is “more forgiving.”

I have to say this appeals to me, the idea that what is refuse becomes useful. It is another version of composting theology. What looks like waste, the peelings and husks, the unusable old language and images, all of this in time can become a rich source of nutrients to restore vitality to depleted soil, to the depleted soul.

Do the clay and potter have any relevance in terms of our own congregational life? This year has been one of listening – for what is happening in our neighborhood, for where God is at work, listening for clues as to where we might join in with the work that is emerging.

Is this a time of sitting in the bucket and waiting to be put to good use? Or are we, right now, on the potter’s wheel, being formed into a useful vessel or piece of art? Is the formation almost finished or are things a bit wobbly with a need to start over?

This coming year we are throwing the service committee in the bucket of clay that needs to be reworked. While service is an important value here at HMC and we want people to be involved in service to others, the current form of the service committee isn’t serving us well. So this year the service committee goes into the potters bin of clay, to wait and see what it will become. How long will it take for there to be enough other things in the bucket that we have new vision and are ready to try again? How will we decide when it’s time to pull out the remnants and start forming something new? Will our imaginations be elastic enough to try new things?

Does this metaphor of potter and clay have any connection with Allegheny Conference? Allegheny Conference has been around for 130 years and now, with the conference greatly diminished in terms of congregations and finances, there is a real question of what the future holds. Do we need to be smashed down and remade on the wheel? Or perhaps extra pieces from other places will be mixed in with the bucket of leftovers from Allegheny Conference. Will we sit in the bucket and wait to see what comes next? Will we be more “forgiving” than we were in our original state? What might the potter create?

Does this metaphor of potter and clay become personal – how am I being shaped by the potter? Do I feel as if I am being built up into something useful and beautiful or do I just feel dizzy going round and round on the potter’s wheel, hoping to be formed into some thing new? Are the hands of the potter enough right now, or do I need other support as well while I am being formed?

One of the important characteristics of clay is that, until it is fired in the kiln, it can be reworked, over and over. Perhaps we are never really completed – as a congregation, a conference, as people; we are always a piece of work in the potter’s hand. What might that mean for the way we understand faith, tradition, ethics?

By the end of September we may have had quite enough of our own in-house prophet, Jeremiah, his metaphors and messages. I hope we will find ways to hear him, his harsh words as well as the hope he holds out, so that God can still speak through Jeremiah to God’s people.