To everything, turn
Luke 13: 1-13
Pleasant Hill Community Church UCC, Pleasant Hill, TN
March 24, 2019
When I read the lectionary for this week, this is what I heard:
“About that time some people came up and told him about the Muslims in Christchurch, New Zealand that a white supremacist had killed while they were at worship in their mosque, mixing their blood with the blood of all those sacrificed on the altar of gun rights, white supremacy, racism, rage, and fear. Jesus responded, “Do you think those murdered Muslims, children of God, deserved to die more than anyone else? No, of course not! Yet unless you turn to God, you, too, will die.
And all those who lost their homes in the floods of Nebraska and Iowa and Wisconsin, and those crushed by wildfires in California, do you think they were worse citizens than all other Americans, like Pat Robertson would have us believe? No, of course not! Yet unless you turn to God, you, too, will die.”
“Then he told them a story: “A nation had a government, a city on a hill. The people came to it expecting to find justice and hope, but there wasn’t any. The people said to the government, ‘What’s going on here? For years now we’ve come to this government expecting justice and hope and laws to protect the innocent and not one federal law has been passed to prevent gun violence. Not one statement has been made denouncing white supremacy and nationalism and homegrown radical terrorists. Chop it down! Why waste good ground with it any longer?’ “The government said, ‘Give us another year. We’ll keep digging in and “fertilizing” and maybe we will produce next year; if we don’t, there’s always the ballot box and Election Day.’”
The lectionary ended right there, but these stories don’t have to be taken whole cloth or as they are parceled out to us. Jesus, the master physician, that physician being Love, would have us take what we need, and we need him to show us the way, even as the way leads to Jerusalem, to judgment, betrayal, abandonment and death. (Lent is so cheery.) Lent, indeed, the whole Christian life is about asking “What would Jesus do?” It’s not just a bumper sticker or fashion statement or even evangelically awkward like “Are you saved?” Fun fact—the phrase was coined by Charles Sheldon in 1897, a social activist and the pastor of Central Congregational Church in Topeka, KS. It’s no easy question to ask because what we’re really asking is what would Love do, which does not always come easily to us. Which is one of the reasons we need the season of Lent. So what does Jesus do next, after loss of innocent life, after suffering, fruitlessness and waste? What are we to do when face to face with our mortality? “Yet unless you turn to God, you too will die.”
“He was teaching in one of the meeting places on the Sabbath. There was a woman present, so twisted and bent over with arthritis that she couldn’t even look up. She had been afflicted with this for eighteen years. When Jesus saw her, he called her over. “Woman, you’re free!” He laid hands on her and suddenly she was standing straight and tall, giving glory to God.”
Jesus turns to those who need lifting, who need healing, who need raising, who need liberating, who need the justice he can give them. Puerto Rican author and pastor Carlos RodrÃguez writes, “Jesus abandoned his privilege for the sake of the underprivileged. Our turn.” He goes on, “However the story starts for the marginalized, Jesus is here to amplify their voices and turn the tables.”
We who are white have been made aware of our white privilege and white fragility but when was the last time we attended a Black Lives Matter protest and listened? We’ve been made aware of the pervasiveness of rape culture and domestic violence and sexual assault but when was the last time you as a man called out another’s man’s misogyny or sexist joke? We’ve had the Americans with Disabilities Act since 1990 but how do we still assume an ableist attitude in public spaces? We know now that there are more than two genders but how ready are we to break the binary (friends and neighbors rather than sisters and brothers) and use someone’s affirming pronouns, regardless of our inner grammar nazi? We may understand the connection between systemic racism, poverty, and the effects of climate change, but do we understand how entrenched our culture is, the commitment of those in power to the enforcement of these systems, and how we benefit from them?
When we who are privileged feel hopeless and powerless, when we give hope and power to others, ours is restored. It seems to me that the more we know about our earthbound journey through an apparent random and capricious universe, the more we want to cling to certainty yet also beliefs that no longer serve us, that will not save us, that end up dividing us. What will it take for us to look to each other, cling to each other and to the earth for our salvation? It takes a village to save a village; a nation to save a nation; the whole world to save the world.
In January I went to India to visit some of the places my Methodist missionary aunt lived and worked. One of those places was a school for girls in Batala, a small rural town in the Punjab region, near the border of Pakistan. On the brick wall of one of the school buildings there is a sign that reads: “If you educate a girl, you have educated the whole nation.” However the story starts for the marginalized, we are here to amplify their voices and turn the tables. If it doesn’t directly impact us, then that’s what our job is. As Pastor Stan Mitchell, formerly of Franklin, TN, said, “If you claim to be an ally of a group of people, if you’re not getting hit by the stones that are thrown at them, you’re not standing close enough.”
It’s all connected. We’re all connected. We lift up girls; we must also lift up gay and trans kids and raise cisgender heterosexual boys who don’t feel threatened by any of this. We lift up trans kids, we lift up non-binary and gender queer kids. We lift up all those kids, all the kids; we also lift up those who live in poverty, especially the poverty of trans adults, the violence against trans adults, especially people of color. We lift up all these; we lift up all people of color, especially the immigrant, the refugee. We lift up the immigrant, the refugee; we must lift a living wage. We lift up a living wage, we lift up the incarcerated, the working poor. We lift up the incarcerated, the working poor, we lift up voting rights, affordable housing, mental health, food security. We lift up basic human needs, we lift up education. We lift up education; we lift up the earth and climate change and technology and finding non-violent solutions to our problems. We lift up science; we must also lift up art and music and beauty and poetry and athleticism and mysticism—all those qualities that feed our spirits and make us come alive. We lift justice, respect, courage, peace.
It’s what Brené Brown calls the “unbreakable, unshakeable human covenant”. It’s what we churchy types call the love and grace of God made flesh in Jesus, made flesh in all of us. To turn to each other, to turn to the other, is to turn toward God.
Pleasant Hill Community Church UCC, Pleasant Hill, TN
March 24, 2019
When I read the lectionary for this week, this is what I heard:
“About that time some people came up and told him about the Muslims in Christchurch, New Zealand that a white supremacist had killed while they were at worship in their mosque, mixing their blood with the blood of all those sacrificed on the altar of gun rights, white supremacy, racism, rage, and fear. Jesus responded, “Do you think those murdered Muslims, children of God, deserved to die more than anyone else? No, of course not! Yet unless you turn to God, you, too, will die.
“Then he told them a story: “A nation had a government, a city on a hill. The people came to it expecting to find justice and hope, but there wasn’t any. The people said to the government, ‘What’s going on here? For years now we’ve come to this government expecting justice and hope and laws to protect the innocent and not one federal law has been passed to prevent gun violence. Not one statement has been made denouncing white supremacy and nationalism and homegrown radical terrorists. Chop it down! Why waste good ground with it any longer?’ “The government said, ‘Give us another year. We’ll keep digging in and “fertilizing” and maybe we will produce next year; if we don’t, there’s always the ballot box and Election Day.’”
The lectionary ended right there, but these stories don’t have to be taken whole cloth or as they are parceled out to us. Jesus, the master physician, that physician being Love, would have us take what we need, and we need him to show us the way, even as the way leads to Jerusalem, to judgment, betrayal, abandonment and death. (Lent is so cheery.) Lent, indeed, the whole Christian life is about asking “What would Jesus do?” It’s not just a bumper sticker or fashion statement or even evangelically awkward like “Are you saved?” Fun fact—the phrase was coined by Charles Sheldon in 1897, a social activist and the pastor of Central Congregational Church in Topeka, KS. It’s no easy question to ask because what we’re really asking is what would Love do, which does not always come easily to us. Which is one of the reasons we need the season of Lent. So what does Jesus do next, after loss of innocent life, after suffering, fruitlessness and waste? What are we to do when face to face with our mortality? “Yet unless you turn to God, you too will die.”
“He was teaching in one of the meeting places on the Sabbath. There was a woman present, so twisted and bent over with arthritis that she couldn’t even look up. She had been afflicted with this for eighteen years. When Jesus saw her, he called her over. “Woman, you’re free!” He laid hands on her and suddenly she was standing straight and tall, giving glory to God.”
Jesus turns to those who need lifting, who need healing, who need raising, who need liberating, who need the justice he can give them. Puerto Rican author and pastor Carlos RodrÃguez writes, “Jesus abandoned his privilege for the sake of the underprivileged. Our turn.” He goes on, “However the story starts for the marginalized, Jesus is here to amplify their voices and turn the tables.”
When we who are privileged feel hopeless and powerless, when we give hope and power to others, ours is restored. It seems to me that the more we know about our earthbound journey through an apparent random and capricious universe, the more we want to cling to certainty yet also beliefs that no longer serve us, that will not save us, that end up dividing us. What will it take for us to look to each other, cling to each other and to the earth for our salvation? It takes a village to save a village; a nation to save a nation; the whole world to save the world.
It’s all connected. We’re all connected. We lift up girls; we must also lift up gay and trans kids and raise cisgender heterosexual boys who don’t feel threatened by any of this. We lift up trans kids, we lift up non-binary and gender queer kids. We lift up all those kids, all the kids; we also lift up those who live in poverty, especially the poverty of trans adults, the violence against trans adults, especially people of color. We lift up all these; we lift up all people of color, especially the immigrant, the refugee. We lift up the immigrant, the refugee; we must lift a living wage. We lift up a living wage, we lift up the incarcerated, the working poor. We lift up the incarcerated, the working poor, we lift up voting rights, affordable housing, mental health, food security. We lift up basic human needs, we lift up education. We lift up education; we lift up the earth and climate change and technology and finding non-violent solutions to our problems. We lift up science; we must also lift up art and music and beauty and poetry and athleticism and mysticism—all those qualities that feed our spirits and make us come alive. We lift justice, respect, courage, peace.
It’s what Brené Brown calls the “unbreakable, unshakeable human covenant”. It’s what we churchy types call the love and grace of God made flesh in Jesus, made flesh in all of us. To turn to each other, to turn to the other, is to turn toward God.
Amen.
Benediction - Howard Thurman
Give me the courage to live!
Really live– not merely exist.
Live dangerously,
Scorning risk!
Live honestly,
Daring the truth–
Particularly the truth of myself!
Live resiliently–
Ever changing, ever growing, ever adapting.
Enduring the pain of change
As though ’twere the travail of birth.
Give me the courage to live,
Give me the strength to be free
And endure the burden of freedom
And the loneliness of those without chains;
Let me not be trapped by success,
Nor by failure, nor pleasure, nor grief,
Nor malice, nor praise, nor remorse!
Give me the courage to go on!
Facing all that waits on the trail–
Going eagerly, joyously on,
And paying my way as I go,
Without anger or fear or regret
Taking what life gives,
Spending myself to the full,
Dead high, spirit winged, like a god–
On… on… till the shadows draw close.
Then even when darkness shuts down,
And I go out alone as I came,
Naked and blind as I came–
Even then, gracious God, hear my prayer:
Give me the courage to live!
Benediction - Howard Thurman
Give me the courage to live!
Really live– not merely exist.
Live dangerously,
Scorning risk!
Live honestly,
Daring the truth–
Particularly the truth of myself!
Live resiliently–
Ever changing, ever growing, ever adapting.
Enduring the pain of change
As though ’twere the travail of birth.
Give me the courage to live,
Give me the strength to be free
And endure the burden of freedom
And the loneliness of those without chains;
Let me not be trapped by success,
Nor by failure, nor pleasure, nor grief,
Nor malice, nor praise, nor remorse!
Give me the courage to go on!
Facing all that waits on the trail–
Going eagerly, joyously on,
And paying my way as I go,
Without anger or fear or regret
Taking what life gives,
Spending myself to the full,
Dead high, spirit winged, like a god–
On… on… till the shadows draw close.
Then even when darkness shuts down,
And I go out alone as I came,
Naked and blind as I came–
Even then, gracious God, hear my prayer:
Give me the courage to live!
Comments
Post a Comment