When I was a sophomore in college, I was awarded a fellowship to study for the summer in Germany at the University of Bonn. With only two years of college German, my language skills were limited and so several of us were coached by a teacher I will call Frau Schmidt. She was in her late thirties and a very nice person.

In 1958 memories of the Second World War were very real for most of us. One afternoon after class I gathered up my courage and asked Frau Schmidt (in German, of course), “What was it like to live during the time of Hitler and the Nazis?” Without hesitation she said, “O, das war eine herrliche zeit!”  “That was a heavenly time!” Seeing the amazement on my face she quickly went on to say that everything about that time had not been heavenly: the bombing raids, the death of so many German soldiers, and what she learned later had become of a million or more of her fellow citizens in the death camps. No, that had not been herrlich. But her best and brightest memories as a young girl were her wonderful days in the Hitler Madchen, full of hiking and singing and good times.

It takes one aback, doesn’t it, to realize that anyone would regard living in Hitler’s Germany as one of the highlights of her life? But we human beings often have very selective ways of looking at the past.

When I was the Senior Minister of the Community Church of East Williston, in the course of a sermon I asked a rhetorical question. In my naïveté I assumed only one answer was possible. “Would anyone here this morning really want to go back and live in 1932, the depth of the Great Depression?” Before I could continue, out of one of the back pews came a resounding “Yes!” (We all laughed then, too!) That experience taught me something. To begin with, it taught me never to ask questions when I didn’t want to hear all the answers! I offer that bit of advice to my younger colleagues here this morning! But I think I learned something far more important. It taught me that no matter how much you or I may regard some period of recent history as difficult, banal or downright unpleasant; someone probably remembers that as the highlight of their life. That’s human nature.

Today we are celebrating the one hundredth anniversary of the founding of Pilgrim Church on December 4, 1914. Though for most Americans it was a time of relative prosperity and peace, the guns of August had already sounded and within a few years America would be swept up in the catastrophe of World War I. While it would later be called “The War to end all Wars, only marked the beginning of a century of violence and destruction which we are still living with today. In those days Protestant Churches were struggling with the transition from a rural to an urban society and many churches were not doing well.

Today we are struggling with the transition from the modern to the post-modern age. Don’t let the seeming success of the mega-church deceive you. When a third of Americans, primarily young people, say “None of the above” when asked what religion they prefer, any thoughtful person can see that we as a Christian Church face a tremendous challenge. And as much as we may want to flee back to another time, say the 1950’s, it simply isn’t possible. We have to live in the world as it is and not as we wish it was.

Believe it or not, this sort of response to changing times has been with us for thousands of years. Our Scripture Lesson this morning is a case in point. In the Old Testament book with the peculiar name of “Numbers,” there is a fascinating vignette about the Children of Israel on the banks of the Jordan ready to cross into the Promised Land. They had come so far from slavery in Egypt through desert and wilderness to this high moment of opportunity. Across the river was the land of their dreams. But there on the banks of the Jordan, they became very cautious. They realized they didn’t know what was waiting for them across that muddy stream. So Moses sent out scouts, spies if you will, to check out what lay ahead.

These handpicked men clambered out of the Jordan Valley and explored the hills and valleys of the land they called Canaan which we today call Israel. For safety’s sake, they probably travelled by night and hid by day. They covered a great deal of the country and were astonished at what they discovered. It really was a land flowing with milk and honey. They glimpsed rich pastureland with herds of animals. They saw huge bunches of grapes glinting in the moonlight. Then, as they flitted past campfires and fortification, they caught sight of some of the natives of the country and the Promised Land began to look less promising. The people who lived there looked big and tough and mean. More than one of the scouts began to have second thoughts about the military campaign that would be necessary to dispossess the Canaanites from their land.

When they returned to Moses and the Israelites they had two very different reports. “Numbers” gives a vivid picture of spies staggering into camp loaded down with enormous bunches of grapes and other fruits of the land. Then came their report: “We came to the land to which you sent us and, yes, it flows with milk and honey, but the people who live there are strong and their cities are well-fortified.” At this point Caleb, one of the oldest of scouts, broke in with some brief, bold words, “Let’s go up at once and occupy it for we are well able to overcome it!” At the time Caleb was about eighty years old. Never tell me that old people are always the timid ones when challenges come! It was the younger men who were frightened and they painted a terrifying picture of the dangers they saw lying ahead. “Over there we saw the Nephilim, (the giants of the mythological past). Beside them, we seemed like grasshoppers.” At that point all the people broke out into loud cries of despair and spent the rest of the night weeping.

The next morning the people had some very hard things to say about Moses and Aaron. “Why did you bring us out of Egypt? Why did you bother leading us through the wilderness? We’re all going to die anyway.” Off to the side some of the worldly-wise ones got together and with much solemn nodding of heads agreed that the prudent thing was to go back to Egypt. To be sure, slavery wasn’t a great life, but it was certainly better than being killed by giants. Who could say? Perhaps Pharaoh would be forgiving and generous and give them straw to make their bricks. When Joshua heard this, he tried to appeal to the people to have greater faith in the God who had brought them so far already. Hadn’t God led them out of every difficulty and danger in the past? Wouldn’t God be with them as they entered the Promised Land? But the last thing people feeling doom and gloom want is a sermon. They told Joshua to be quiet. If he didn’t they would stone him to death.

At that moment in time, some thirty five hundred years ago, those ancient Hebrews were moving between two worlds. They didn’t know it, of course, but w looking back can see it clearly. All their past struggles and suffering was simply preparation for this new world and the demands of living in the Promised Land they had always longed for. It was a critical moment in their history, what later New Testament writers would call a moment of “kairos,” a moment of decision. At such a moment you either choose or you lose. There are no other options. James Russell Lowell’s great hymn (“Once to Every Man and Nation”) has it exactly right.

“Some great cause, God’s new Messiah, Offering each

          the bloom or blight,

 And the choice goes by forever ‘Twixt that darkness

          and that light.”

Friends, I don’t know what you expected to hear when you came to worship today. Perhaps, you hoped to hear a celebration of Pilgrim’s past, and make no question about it, this church has a great past. It has been a positive, life-changing force in the lives of thousands of people and in the life of Chattanooga. We have been that lamp upon a lampstand that Christ calls all his faithful people to be. Of course, we haven’t been a perfect light. Sometimes our flame has flickered, but today it burns brightly. Let me say this as clearly as I can: Pilgrim has a great past but it also can and should have a great future. Yes, the times are challenging for all churches. But the true challenge we face as we look forward to our next one hundred years is whether we will live by fear of by faith. With true faith, all things are possible. With fear little that is good will happen. It is up to you, the members of Pilgrim Church, to decide the future of this beloved church. Like Moses, I and the other clergy who have served you here led you to the edge of Jordan. I cannot go further with you, but of this one thing I am absolutely sure: If ever a church had the capacity for a greater future than its past, it is this church. The P.B.S. special on the Roosevelts reminded us how F.D.R. rallied the American people in the depths of the Great Depression with unforgettable words, “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.”  Today we also should have no fears. With God’s help and support, the future is ours. I love the words of Robert Browning’s poem:

    (from “Rabbi Ben Ezra)

          “Grow old along with me!

            The best is yet to be,

            The last of life, for which the first was made:

            Our times are in his hand

            Who smith, “A whole I planned,

            Youth shows but half; trust God: see all,

                 Nor be afraid.”

Yes, that is the answer for the great future ahead of Pilgrim Church: trust God, see all and never, never, never be afraid.

May God bless you on your journey. Amen.