Turn your radio on And listen to the music in the air,
Turn your radio on, [There's] glory to share;
Turn the lights down low,
And listen to the Master's Radio,
Get in touch with God, Turn your radio on.

Wouldn't it be great if it were that easy? Wonder what God is thinking today . . . hmmm . . . let's turn the lights down low, get the kids gathered ?round the old Crosley "Super 11" floor model radio in the living room, and tune in to the "Master's Radio" - some gospel show with music to get your toe a-tappin'. Some of you remember those early days of radio when the mystery of all that "music in the air" mesmerized the nation with its music and drama and comedy. Voices coming right into your home through the "air waves" into that mysterious radio set that told us about the world, and God too. "Get in touch with God: turn that radio on!"

 
As I say, would that it were that easy, especially in these days when I don't want to turn the radio on, or watch the news on TV either. I don't want to because I know what I will hear and see yet more of: car bombings and "strategic strikes;" insurgents killed, and soldiers killed, and civilians killed by the score, by the thousands; and hatred growing, respect for our nation shrinking, and walls not bridges built, and religion debased and God mocked when Muslims make terror an act of faith, and Christians mix nationalism with worship; and promises that we are on the right path, that all will be well if we stay the course. And I hear pundits and commentators and especially talk-show hosts that shall remain unnamed serving up half-truths in the most mean-spirited ways; and I see preachers too, their chancels draped with red-white-and-blue, preaching war and not peace, demonizing anyone who doesn't think the way they do. As I say, I dread turning the radio on these days.

In that first reading from Jeremiah it is not the people tuning into God, but God is listening for their cries: "Listen to the cry of my people from a land far away." And what does God hear them saying? "The harvest is past, the summer has ended, and we are not saved." It is a cry of resignation, of utter despair, the cry of a broken heart that God hears, tuning in to the prayers of a nation long past its glory days when its rulers cared about truth and mercy, fairness and right living marked chiefly by compassion for the poor, the outcast, and the weak. They had committed the fatal error of mistaking "the good life" measured in terms of their wealth, for "the God life," putting their possessions at the center of their lives, and not God, their wealth more important than the welfare of those in need.

And what was God's reaction to such a poignant cry as one version puts it, "The summer has ended and we are not safe?" God's reaction is, "Since my people are crushed, I am crushed . . . " Another translation has it this way: "For the hurt of my poor people, I am hurt." What an amazing statement! When we hurt, God is hurt. When our hearts are broken and crushed, God's is too. The Maker of the universe is not some unfeeling, unknowable Being aloof from the world. The Creator of all is not unapproachable, cold, and removed from It's creation. Jeremiah says that far from it. What we do and feel effects what God feels and does.

And then this verse makes it even more graphic: "O that my head were a spring of water, and my eyes a fountain of tears, so that I might weep day and night." A weeping God. A God who cries . . .

The first thing I want us to note about this remarkable theology is that here is good news. For a God who cries is a God who cares, and cares deeply about the world as a whole, and people too, one by one. You may remember one of Charlie Brown's great statements when he said, "I love all of humanity as a whole; it's people I can't stand." Our God loves us as a whole, and even you and even me particularly. That doesn't mean God exists to fulfill our every wish; one's own little personal God to run our errands. It does mean that the steadfast love of God extends to every single one of us, and all those people out there we find very hard to love, and even those people that our President likes to call "evil doers" - God weeps when they weep. That is good news; that is the gospel.

But the second question this moving text raises is this: just what causes God weep? It is a question worth considering. It may be that it is the most important question we can ask! For if we could answer it we would know better the heart of God, and knowing what God cares about most could help us shape our lives and our values, so that we could live meaningfully and joyfully too. We should be weeping over what God weeps over.
So: what makes the Creator cry? Surely the six million children under the age of five who die each year of hunger. And the fifteen million refugees worldwide - people who have had to flee their homes because of things like war and famine and racial and religious hatred. And the nearly one-quarter of the world's people who live on less than a dollar a day. The gross inequity of how the basic necessities of life are distributed must make God weep. Those who are hungry; those who are refugees; those who are poor . . . these are close to the heart of God.

I think too that the One who created this wonderful and mysterious and shockingly beautiful earth weeps when we misuse its resources and pollute its rivers and lakes and oceans; when we lay waste the rain forests, and choke out the very air we breath. God must weep to see the wonder of this earth fade by our short-sightedness.

And I think God wept on 9-11 when 19 men mistaking hatred for commitment to God took the lives of nearly 3,000 people. There is no question about that. But God weeps too for the over 1,000 American service men and women, the over five thousand who have been injured, many of them severely, their lives forever changed; and God weeps for the tens of thousands of Iraqi soldiers, and an estimated 13,000 civilians - men and women and children, - who died in a war whose justification is questionable, outcome is doubtful at best, a war that has fanned the flames of hatred against us worldwide. If Jesus is to be believed, God weeps whenever we vainly seek to overcome our fears by power, intimidation, and outright violence instead of understanding and serving and goodness.

There is much in our world to weep over, and God joins us in that weeping. But it does not end there, does it. The verses we heard from chapter 31 are words of hope and encouragement: the days are coming, says the Lord, when "the maidens will dance and be glad, young men and old as well. I will turn their mourning into gladness [says the Lord]; I will give them comfort and joy instead of sorrow." And it is that word of hope, isn't it, that we must as people of faith always affirm, no matter how dark the days or how hopeless the world appears to be. "Faith," we learned this summer from the book of Hebrews, "is the assurance, the evidence, the reality of things hoped for" - a world free from want, where the earth's resources are treasured and shared - "it is the conviction, the proof of things not yet seen" - like peace among nations, achieved by mutual respect and understanding and equality among all people.

As people of faith, let us dare to turn our radios on to discern among the multitude of voices we find there what is happening in this world, this world that is so loved by our God. And let us join in the work of God that seeks justice and goodness, truth and fairness not just for ourselves but for all people. If we do that we will indeed "get in touch with God," and God will instead of weeping over the world, rejoice with us. Amen.