Proper 16A 2014 -
Ferguson - Matthew 16:13-20
Sermon preached at Christ
Church, Quincy
In the name of the
Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Listen again to the
words of the collect for this Sunday: “Grant,
O merciful God, that your Church, being gathered together in unity by your Holy
Spirit, may show forth your power among all peoples, to the glory of your
name.” Now there is a timely prayer. We could use a lot more gathering together
in unity right now.
Just before we prayed
this collect this morning, we sang a hymn of praise that I’d never heard
before.
Not sure of the original source of this hymn, but the words are by Delores Dufner, OSB. |
I don’t know how often
you sing this, but it certainly fits both the readings and prayer for today and
the situations we are facing in the world.
I’m sure you’ve noticed that recent news has not been comfortable or
comforting. You know that in our baptismal service we promise to “respect the
dignity of every human being” – and this summer we’ve been seeing a lot of
examples of how NOT to live this out. How NOT to live as the Body of Christ,
gathered in unity.
In
this morning’s gospel reading, Jesus asks his disciples, “Who do people say
that I am?” After a variety of responses, he continues, "But who do you say that I am?" Simon Peter
answered, "You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God."
Now that is no small claim.
Simply claiming he was a true prophet would have already been making a
stand. Prophets deserve respect and consideration, though that’s rarely what
they get at the moment they’re speaking. But if Jesus is the Son of the living
God, the stakes are suddenly much higher.
If we stake our faith
on Jesus Christ in any way, shape, or form, it will have an impact on our
lives. Christians may agree on very little these days, but all of us claim to
be followers of Christ even when we live it out differently.[1] What we believe makes a difference because it
will impact the way we live and the choices we make. Someone who believes Jesus is a great moral
teacher will consult his words on ethics. Those of us who believe he is the Son
of the Living God may suddenly realize that he’s not just someone to be
consulted; he’s the one who calls us to follow him in giving our whole life to
God. And that can mean we end up going in some unexpected directions. The path
we’re following can take us to some unfamiliar places, into situations that
make us uneasy, alongside people who make us uncomfortable. If we take Jesus
seriously, we’re in for quite a ride.
A writer friend of mine
recently put up a blog post after reading Jen Hatmaker’s newest book, Interrupted: An Adventure in Relearning the
Essentials of Faith. She writes,
I realized lately that I'm on the way to becoming an
activist, and I can't tell you how much I hate that. It's a lot more
comfortable on my farm, with my animals, thinking happy thoughts. I can even
think nice religious thoughts, thanking God for the many blessings in my life.
Except there's a flip side to both religion and happiness. There's a point
where you start remembering the Bible verses on poverty or social justice, and
you start getting pushed out of your comfortable little shell. It's not fun. But
it's good. And while I pretty much hate all politicians--I'm a fiscal
conservative with liberal social leanings and a woman with a brain in my head,
which pretty much rules out liking any of them--I suddenly seem to care about
social issues. I want a bigger minimum wage. Civil rights for LGBTQs. Racial
justice. A global economy where my affluence didn't rest on the backs of
developing-world laborers that make less than a dollar a day…
Jen's prayer, "Raise up in me a holy Passion," is honestly a bit hot for me. I'd like "raise up in me a moderate enthusiasm," perhaps, or, "Raise up in me the chance to do a bit of good and feel smug while returning to my comfortable life." I don't know, though. I'm afraid, especially after last week, that I might be stuck.[2]
Jen's prayer, "Raise up in me a holy Passion," is honestly a bit hot for me. I'd like "raise up in me a moderate enthusiasm," perhaps, or, "Raise up in me the chance to do a bit of good and feel smug while returning to my comfortable life." I don't know, though. I'm afraid, especially after last week, that I might be stuck.[2]
Let’s not kid
ourselves. Scripture is dangerous. The more you read it, lots of it, the more
you get the larger picture of what God is up to, the more you realize that
something has to change – and that you have to be part of it. I can’t speak for
others, but I’m a cradle Episcopalian. A Midwesterner. My father is a priest
and my mother a teacher. It’s a perfect storm in terms of confusing NICE with
HOLY and POLITE with JUST. When
controversial topics arise, one should murmur something noncommittal.
That’s
very nice.
It’s not what God calls us to.
It’s not what God calls us to.
The past couple of
weeks, I’ve been in impassioned discussions about Ferguson with family and
friends back in Indiana. Never thought I’d see the day. What a blessing. But
not easy. But how many more unarmed
black men will die because we’ve been taught to fear each other? Something has
to change. All of us need to do more. Those of us who are white need both to
speak up where there is silence or indifference, and to be quiet and listen
when there is someone of color sharing the story of what it’s really like in this
country. I guarantee you it won’t be comfortable. And some days change doesn’t
seem possible. But remember South Africa? No one thought anything could ever
change there, and it did, in large part because of the sharing of terrible stories
in their Truth and Reconciliation Commission. Desmond Tutu said, “True
reconciliation exposes the awfulness, the abuse, the pain, the hurt, the truth.
It could even sometimes make things worse. It is a risky undertaking, but in
the end it is worthwhile, because in the end only an honest confrontation with
reality can bring real healing. Superficial reconciliation can bring only
superficial healing.”[3] When we don’t know what else to do, we
can always start by seeking out the stories of others and listening. In this
way we begin to build that unity we pray for as we build relationships, real
relationships built on the rock of truth rather than the sand of polite
avoidance.
In today’s gospel
reading, Jesus says, “I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and
whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on
earth will be loosed in heaven.” Make no mistake: that’s ALL of us. High time
we started asking ourselves what exactly we’re binding up and what exactly we
are loosing. What barriers do we not even see
that need to be knocked down so that the kingdom of heaven might be a little
more present on earth? What do we need to do so that we might truly gather in
unity to praise God? Jesus came to set the oppressed free and to break every
yoke… We’re supposed to be part of this work, too. Look at your hands. YOUR
HANDS are the hands that are to be building the kingdom. YOUR HANDS are the
hands that hold the power of God to set others free, to make life a little better
for everyone. YOUR HANDS are the hands that hold the keys to the kingdom of
heaven. Sisters and brothers, unlock that gate, open it wide, and let the light
shine in. Amen.
[1]
Acts8 Moment “The Collect Call” Episode 21 for Proper 16 (podcast for this week)
http://www.acts8moment.org/
[2] Kimberly
Brubaker Bradley, One Blog Now. http://www.kimberly-brubaker-bradley.blogspot.com/2014/08/raise-up-in-me-moderate-enthusiasm-oh.html#comment-form
[3]
Desmond Tutu, “Truth and Reconciliation” http://greatergood.berkeley.edu/article/item/truth_and_reconciliation
Sarah thanks so much for this beautiful homily, and the picture of Desmond Tutu is a keeper!!!
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