Sermon: Emptiness, fullness, and the energy of Christ (Sept 27, 2020)

Full service can be viewed here.  

Pentecost 17A
September 27, 2020
Matthew 21:23-32
Philippians 2:1-13

INTRODUCTION

Hypocrisy and authority and the possibility for repentance. These are the issues taken up in today’s readings, and they are very much issues to consider in our daily lives as well! Some important context for the Gospel reading – the elders and chief priests (both people of authority) ask Jesus about where he gets the authority to do “these things,” so you may wonder, which things are these? This text takes place on Monday of Holy Week. Jesus has just marched triumphantly into Jerusalem on a borrowed donkey, where he promptly turns over the tables of the money changers in the Temple. So my guess is they are probably talking about these things – which undermine the power structures that are and have long been in place. I can understand why they are upset (no one likes their power to be threatened!), and Jesus’ crafty way of turning their trap back on them likely doesn’t make them feel better!

But I’m actually going to be talking today about the epistle, Paul’s letter to the Philippians. This is a beloved text, where Paul quotes one of the earliest Christian hymns. In it, Paul is writing to a church community that is experiencing some tension and fears, and offering some guidance for overcoming that division (sounds familiar). The text has some beautiful imagery about emptiness and fullness. So as you listen to that one, think about what makes you feel empty, or depleted, and what, these days, is making you feel full. And where do you find God in that? Let’s listen.

[READ]

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

I really tried this week to write a sermon on the Gospel lesson. In this story about Jesus in the Temple, he has just disrupted the prevailing power structures of the religious and political systems of the day, and is now having a conversation with those who hold the power about authority and where it comes from. The parable Jesus tells reveals the dangers of hypocrisy, of saying one thing and doing another, of not being true to your word. It all seemed too timely to pass up, in a week where the power struggles over filling an incredibly consequential Supreme Court seat have been excruciating, and the news came that none of the police officers involved in busting into Breonna Taylor’s home in the middle of the night and shooting her six times would be charged for killing her, and then the president wouldn’t commit to a peaceful transfer of power if he loses in November. Hypocrisy and struggles with authority and where it comes from were on full display in our country this week. Surely, I thought, the Gospel will have a hopeful word to say to all of this.

Well I wrestled and reflected and prayed… but where I was led instead was to this beautiful and beloved text from Philippians. And in particular, I was drawn to the images of emptiness and fullness. “Make my joy complete,” Paul writes. “Christ emptied himself… and God exalted him.” 

I admit, the reason I was likely drawn to these images is because I am myself feeling pretty empty a lot of the time. The personal demands are many, yet I never feel like I am doing enough for this hurting world. I read the news and my heart breaks all over again. I do one thing that fills me up, only to have something else happen that drains me again. And the things that would normally fill me up –worshiping together, singing with others, social gatherings, visiting my family – are all currently on hold. I resonated with a friend of mine who recently posted on Facebook, “Anyone else feeling depleted and full of despair?” Yup! So where’s a lifeline that will keep us from drowning?

Philippians delivers. The first lifeline comes right in the first few verses. Actually first, look at those first two words. In English, these words, “if, then” are conditional, like there is some question about it, but in Greek, they are more like, “because.” So it’s not “if there is encouragement in Christ,” but rather, “Because there is encouragement in Christ, consolation from love, sharing in the Spirit, compassion and sympathy… make my joy complete.” You see, he starts with describing the fullness of God in our lives – encouragement, love, sharing, compassion, sympathy. “Be like this,” he says, “be like Christ, and notice the ways the Christ is present in and around you, and you will feel the fullness of joy.” Full. Complete. Ahh, these are words that I love! 

        So our first lifeline is to find these things around us, notice them, and practice them. God has promised that they are among us through Christ, so find them! This may mean taking a few minutes at the end of each day to reflect back on the day and ask, “Where did I see compassion today? Where did I see encouragement? Where did I see love expressed? Where was there joy?” I would suggest you write these things down, perhaps in a journal or even more publicly like on social media (others might need some help to see them, too!), and at the end of each week, read over them. Are there are any patterns? Did you consistently see encouragement, or compassion, in a particular place or form? If so, you’ll know where to watch for it in the future! This, I believe, will make your joy complete.

        Lifeline #2 is recognizing where that fullness comes from – and of course, the answer is Christ. Paul goes on to quote an ancient Christian hymn, describing how Christ once had the fullness of divinity, he says, and all the power of that, but instead of staying there, he “emptied himself.” So now we have the contrast between the fullness of God and the emptying of himself to become human. But because he emptied himself, what happens? He is exalted, experiencing once again the fullness of God, and bringing all of humanity with him. In giving of himself, emptying himself, Christ was not only able to fill us up – with love, encouragement, compassion, all that – but also to be exalted himself. 

It’s an image that I can sort of grasp, but that I don’t particularly like. I mean, it’s fine for Jesus, but I don’t like that Paul prefaces this by saying, “Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus,” and then describes all this emptying business. Because as I said: I feel empty enough as it is. I don’t need anything more to empty what already feels like a rapidly dwindling heart gas tank.

But when I’m able to take a step back from this initial reaction to emptiness, I also realize: not all emptiness is bad. There are some days when I come home spent and exhausted – but it is the exhaustion that comes from serving others, and making a meaningful difference in the world, or at least for one person. That sort of emptiness fills me with joy! There are times when my car’s gas tank is empty – because we have just had a family adventure together. Good emptiness! There are times when a table, once laden with an abundance of food, is empty – because its contents have gone to feed and nourish those gathered around, giving them physical sustenance and an opportunity to gather for conversation and laughter. 

        These instances of emptiness are different because even though I have given of my time and energy resources, that giving has been a joyful experience, an experience in which I felt God being glorified. At the end of this passage from Philippians, Paul tells his audience, “It is God who is at work in you, enabling you both to will and work for his good pleasure.” Like that table, once full of food, Christ emptied himself so that we could be full, so that God could work in us, giving us the energy to work for God’s good pleasure. Indeed, the word translated here as “work in you” is energeo, the Greek word from which we get “energy.” When we get out of our own way and let Christ’s own life take over, we are energized; we spend energy in service, emptying ourselves, but we also receive the energy that comes from joy in Christ. 

        So here is where the lifeline comes in. When we get to the end of the day and find our hearts broken and bleeding, and our energy dwindling, and feel ourselves increasingly empty… we remember that Christ’s own emptiness is for our fullness. When Christ emptied himself to leave his divine post and put on some skin to walk around with us for a while, when he came to feel our human needs, to express compassion, when he came even to suffer and die for us and rise again, not only was he exalted, but we were also filled by his life. 

        And so we are given sustenance for our journey, given Christ’s own energy, to make it through another day. Perhaps this energy strengthens us to fight the good fight, to “make good trouble” – and indeed there is plenty of good trouble to make right now. There is so much important work to be done. And sometimes, that energy is better used just to keep our heads above water. We don’t have to save the world every day. The lifeline comes in knowing that this energy is continuously offered to us by our life-giving God. And when we can empty ourselves of all the expectations and guilt that are put on us by society (or perhaps even more, by our own selves), and leave room only for God’s love and life for us, we can find what we need to go another day.

Perhaps this is what Paul means when he says, “Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus…” It is to empty ourselves, so that we might in turn be filled with the fullness of joy in Christ Jesus. Even that joy can sometimes be hard work. But we can trust that Paul’s words are true, that God is at work in us, enabling us and giving us the energy to will and to work for God’s good pleasure. 

Let us pray… God of encouragement and love, these difficult times demand so much of us, and we often feel empty in a bad way. Help us to empty ourselves in a good way, getting rid of all that would drain life from us, and then fill us up with your energizing love, light, and life. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Sermon: God's grace isn't fair (Sept 20, 2020)

Full service here. 

Pentecost 16A 

September 20, 2020

Matthew 20:1-16

INTRODUCTION:

Today’s readings address one of the most basic values of humanity: fairness. From a very early age, humans develop a sense of what is fair and what is not. In fact, even animals have a sense of this! And today’s readings will challenge your understanding of what is fair. In Jonah, we’ll hear the lesser known part of the story – Jonah has already been eaten and burped back up by the large fish, and has preached his sermon about repentance to the people of Ninevah, and now is eager to see God’s retribution on their sinfulness. After all, they were just a bunch of Assyrians, Israel’s enemies. But God changes God’s mind… and Jonah does not think this is fair! 

In the parable of the workers in the field, we definitely have our sensibilities about fairness challenged, as people who worked one hour get paid the same as those who worked 12. But notice, Jesus doesn’t introduce the parable with, “This is how to run a business.” He says, “The kingdom of God is like this.” 

        In both stories we will see what it looks like, as Paul writes in Philippians, to “live a life worthy of the gospel” – and it might not look like our gut thinks it should! As you listen, notice how these stories make you feel – are they offensive to you? Do they make you feel a sense of justice, or frustration? Imagine yourself in the position of Jonah, of the 12-hour workers, and also, of the 1-hour workers. How do you experience the story in their shoes? Let’s listen.

[READ]

Well, I think it’s safe to say that we are all pretty much over 2020. Any one thing that has happened would have been enough: the virus and all the loss it has brought; the social unrest, especially when it has come so close to home in the Daniel Prude story and cover-up; the west coast in flames; losing two civil rights icons in short order, first John Lewis and then this weekend, on Rosh Hashanah, Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg. And just in case you were still holding it together, Rochester woke up yesterday to news of the largest mass shooting in recent history, two promising young people dead, 14 wounded. 

It’s a lot. And you know what? It is really not fair. None of it seems fair.

That’s a very human reaction to struggle, isn’t it? We try to make sense of things, to fit them into our understanding of what is and isn’t fair, what should happen. Generally, what would be fair would be for people to get what they deserve, right – good, hard-working people should be rewarded, and evil people should be punished. So… why are so many good people suffering?

I know that this is a congregation with a diversity of views about how any number of these issues should be handled, and I respect that. But even in our diversity, I think we can all agree that we want people to have what they need. And we want people to be treated fairly. And if you are watching this service, it’s also fair to say that you believe Jesus might have some guidance about all this. 

Well, he does, but turns out that Jesus might not give us the affirming advice we thought he would. Someone once said, “Whenever Jesus told a parable, he lit a stick of dynamite and covered it with a story.” In other words, Jesus’ parables blow apart everything we think we understand about God and how the world works. That’s certainly true in the parable we just heard, which totally turns on its head any understanding we thought we had about how fairness works.

            There are several ways that this parable blows our worldview to smithereens. The first is in the motive of the landowner. We in America are quite familiar and even comfortable with capitalism as our economic system. It makes sense, and for the most part, it works, because it motivates us to work hard and succeed. So if you are a business owner – or in this parable, a landowner – then you will strive to make shrewd business choices, because that benefits you. You will have only as many workers as you need in order to get the work done, and you will (hopefully!) pay them what is a fair wage for the work they do so that they will be motivated to return to work day after day and be loyal to you. Capitalism is, in the end, centered around the needs of the business owners, the bosses, and in theory, when they benefit, so do the workers. Clear. Fair. 

            But here’s the dynamite: this parable instead centers around the needs of the workers. Maybe you filled in the gaps in your mind as to why the landowner went out looking for more workers. Because I’ve been formed by a capitalistic society, I have always assumed it was because he needed more workers – why else would he go looking? But it doesn’t say that. It just says he went out and saw more people in need of work, and so offered them jobs. It says he asked them why they weren’t working, and when they said it was because no one had hired them (for reasons unknown to us), he gave them jobs. Several times during the day this happens – he keeps going out, not to satisfy his need for workers, but to satisfy the people’s need for work.

            So, what does this show us about God’s economy? It shows us that faithful living is motivated by the needs of the less powerful. It shows us that in God’s economy, those who are powerful – the proverbial landowners – go out in search of those in need, listen to what those needs are, and satisfy them, even over and above their own needs. In other words: in a gospel-focused economy, those in power focus not on their own needs, but on the needs of the less powerful.

            The second stick of dynamite hits in the motives of the workers. The first workers have a chance to bargain with the landowner, and to agree with him about what they will be paid: a denarius each, which is the going rate for a day’s labor, enough to provide one family their daily bread. The next batch are told only that they will be paid “whatever is right.” Those hired toward the end of the day aren’t told how much they will be paid or even that they will be paid at all! They take the job simply on trust of the landowner, that they will be treated fairly.

            Would that trust be well-placed in today’s world? Sometimes, sure. There are certainly good people out there who are true to their word, who have integrity and strive to treat others with dignity and respect, doing what is best for the other rather than what is best for themselves and their own power. And, there are plenty of people, even people in power, who will stop at nothing just to keep their power and riches, even if it is at the expense of God’s more vulnerable children. We see this in agriculture (like tomato pickers who get paid a measly 2¢ per pound of tomatoes), and we see it in politics, and everything in between. 

            And yet this parable shows that in God’s economy, those in need can trust the landowner, because he is generous and just. We, the workers, can trust in God, the landowner, because we know that he will always provide us what we need, our daily bread, even when the rest of the world will not.

            The third stick of dynamite is for the economy of compensation, and this is the one that really gets our goat. The landowner pays in reverse order, first paying the workers who arrived last. To their surprise and delight, they are paid a full day’s wage, despite only working an hour! Surely the other workers seeing this are thinking, “Our lucky day! If those guys got paid a full day’s wage for only one hour, just think what we will be paid!” But then to their shock and dismay, they are paid exactly the same. And their gut reaction is the same as mine would be in that situation: “But that’s not fair! I worked hard all day, and in the scorching heat, by the way, so I should get paid more than that guy!” The landowner’s response, in essence is, “Who said I was in the business of fairness? I am in the business of justice.” Didn’t he say as much with the second batch of workers, that he would pay them not what was fair, but what was right? And so he did – he paid them exactly what they needed: a full day’s wage. Enough for their daily bread.

            You see, God’s economy is not about being fair. Capitalism is fair: you work hard, and you get what you earn. And sure, it works… sometimes. It motivates hard work… sometimes. And then, sometimes the deck is stacked in such a way that the same hard work for one person only pays half or three quarters as much for another person. You see, fairness gets murky really fast.

            But God’s justice goes beyond fairness. In God’s just economy, people get what they need, regardless of whether they have earned it. When God is the landowner, and we are the workers, God seeks us out to learn our needs. We, the workers can trust that God is good and just. And we can be certain that we will always get from God exactly what it is we need – whether that is a day’s wage for whatever we were able to work, or the forgiveness of our sins big and small, or the knowledge of love and belonging that we receive at the baptismal font.

            God’s economy doesn’t work well as a business practice. This parable is not a model for a business owner to follow. It really isn’t a practical economic system for this world. Still, this parable allows us to see into a world, for a moment, that operates on generosity rather than greed, ambition and competition. It allows us to imagine and see a world in which all are valued for what they can contribute – even those who stand ignored or discarded by society. It shows us the generosity of a God who lifts up the dignity of each person, regardless of their circumstances, and who offers all of us, every day, exactly the grace that we need to live. 

        Could we live into this vision, even and especially in 2020? Is this what a life worthy of the gospel looks like, and is it possible for us? If so, what will we do to bring it about, to bring hope into a despairing world?

            Let us pray… Generous God, your justice doesn’t always make sense in a world driven by greed and competition. Help us to pursue it anyway, in the way we see and treat one another, especially those among us who feel their needs are ignored and discarded. Help us to see the dignity of all people, not through our earthly lens, but through the lens of your justice and grace. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Sermon: What forgiveness is not (in racial justice) (Sept. 13, 2020)

Full service (which was outside in the park today, with an actual congregation!) is here.  

Pentecost 15A
Sept 13, 2020
Matthew 18:21-35

 

INTRODUCTION

         All of today’s texts are about one of the most difficult, but also most central aspects of Christian faith: forgiveness. Both God’s forgiveness of us, and our forgiveness of others. The first reading is the tail end of the Joseph story. A little recap: Joseph is one of Jacob’s 12 sons, and his father’s favorite, so his disgruntled brothers played a trick on him. They sold him into slavery. He ended up in Egypt, and long story short, he became the chief advisor to the king, and thanks to his ability to interpret dreams, he helped the entire country and surrounding countries to get through a seven-year famine. His brothers came to Egypt, not knowing Joseph was there and not recognizing him when the see him. They ask for help, since they, too, had suffered in the devastating drought. Joseph helps them, and finally reveals himself to them, and in a marvelous moment of reconciliation, Joseph forgives his brothers for causing him harm, and invites them back into relationship.

Continuing the theme, in the Gospel, Jesus tells a challenging parable to answer Peter’s question about how many times we should forgive. The parable tells a story about a man who is forgiven a debt of millions of dollars, only to turn around and demand repayment of a debt owed to him of just a few thousand. Jesus warns that such an unwillingness to forgive, when we have been forgiven so much, leads to pain and death.

         We all need forgiveness for something, from someone. We all have someone we need to forgive. As you listen, pick one of these things or people to hold in mind, and hear how scripture speaks to this challenging aspect of faith. Let’s listen.

[READ]

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

          This week, I attended one of the protests in response to Daniel Prude’s murder. I was told they were asking for more clergy, especially white clergy, to show up, so after a couple of nights of peaceful protests, I showed up, collar on, pectoral cross around my neck. It was incredibly moving to be there, to see people’s passion and their kindness, sharing pizza and bottled water, to see people dancing and smiling at each other, even as we all came together to ask for justice and change, not only for people of color, but also for people who struggle with mental illness.

         On the other hand, I have also heard and read with dismay some of the commentary on what is happening in our streets and our nation. I have heard from many well-intentioned, mostly white people the sentiment that “slavery happened a long time ago, and it’s time for Black people to forgive and move on. As long as they are being framed as the victim, they will live into that perception of themselves. It’s time they empower themselves, by forgiving the past and moving on.” Now, I’m all about forgiveness, don’t get me wrong! I believe forgiveness brings life and freedom. But I also have several concerns about this perspective, not the least of which is what I see as a misunderstanding of what forgiveness is and what it means. So, let’s spend some time today, using our texts, to talk about what forgiveness is not.

         Forgiveness is not a denial of what has happened. The old adage “forgive and forget” is not really very useful, for it closes the door to the possibility of the growth and change that happens when we make mistakes. At the point where the Genesis text drops us down in the Joseph story, Joseph has been sold into slavery, and managed to climb his way, with God’s help, into a position of power and influence. When his brothers first show up at his door, he takes some time to figure out what they are about, even to test them a little. He can’t risk being hurt by them again. In the climactic moment we just heard, the brothers confess their wrong-doing. In fact, they suggest Joseph do to them exactly what they had done to him! “Make us your slaves!” they say. Joseph’s response is to acknowledge, “Yes, you hurt me. You intended me harm. Still, God used your wrong-doing for something good. God was and is more powerful than your sin.”

You see, genuine forgiveness starts with acknowledgement of wrong-doing, of harm done – preferably by both parties, if that’s possible. But even if only from one side, to find forgiveness, we must recognize and name the extent of the brokenness, for only then does it lose its power over us. Not to face sin and its consequences head-on, even sins of the past and of our ancestors, is a guarantee that we will face that pain again. Acknowledging sin and brokenness is what allows new life to start to emerge.

         Second, forgiveness cannot be coerced, nor demanded by the injuring party, but can only be offered by the one who has been injured on their own time. It took many years for Joseph, and even then, it required his brothers’ repentance. Though the brothers do try to trick Joseph again, telling him it was their father’s dying wish that he forgive them, Joseph still does this on his own timeline, not because of their tricks.

But sometimes we do try to demand apologies and forgiveness, don’t we? Even since we are children – say a child has done something wrong (biting, pushing, etc.), we force them to apologize. “Tell your sister you’re sorry,” we say, and the child shrugs and mumbles, “Sorry…” and the other says, “It’s okay…” and they both run off. This doesn’t mean anything; no one is invested in this exchange. The child has not even acknowledged that they know what they are apologizing for, and no one asked the one harmed if they were ready to accept an apology, if it really is okay. A true apology is not flippant or forced, but involves repentance and recognition of pain caused, as we see in the Joseph story, and an expressed hope to do better in the future.

         Forgiveness is not a denial of anger. We don’t hear enough in the Church about righteous anger. Maybe we think good Christians don’t get angry. But that’s not the model Jesus offers – he got plenty angry! Think of him making a whip and turning over the tables in the temple, in his anger with the money changers. Think of his blasting the religious hypocrites who oppressed the poor, calling them snakes. Think of his denouncing the mistreatment of the most vulnerable in his society. Think of even a couple weeks ago, when Jesus said to Peter, “Get behind me, Satan!” The landowner in today’s parable, who is pretty clearly meant to be God in this story, certainly gets angry, too. You see, righteous anger at injustice and sin is absolutely a part of faith, and it is not the purpose of forgiveness to subdue that. (I want to distinguish between vindictive anger and righteous anger – vindictive anger is the sort the eats away at you, but righteous anger has positive change as its goal.) There is a time to get angry and even to stay angry, to insist on change, and to say, “Enough is enough!” While it is the task of the Church to preach and practice forgiveness, it is also the task of the Church to take sin as seriously as Jesus did, and passionately call for justice until that justice is achieved. (And by justice I don’t mean retribution – I mean that everyone has gotten what they need.)

         Finally, forgiveness is not the same as healing or reconciliation, though it may be a step toward it. Healing may take longer, and sometimes forgiveness may happen without reconciliation, for example in the case of abuse, when a continuing relationship is not healthy or possible. So sometimes, forgiveness is not the end point, but the beginning, the beginning of leaning into the future instead of being caught on the chains of the past.

This is especially important in the work of seeking racial justice. To forgive past evils like slavery and all the other discriminatory laws that have come since it ended (Jim Crow, redlining, mass incarceration) – forgiving all that is not this happily-ever-after moment where suddenly everyone is equal. Rather, forgiveness is an unburdening of the heart, and preparing then to begin the work ahead – even better, to maybe begin it together. As one preacher writes, “Forgiveness enables the oppressed not only to survive, but to lay down the cumbersome weight of hatred and bitterness, and gear up for the fight. Forgiveness is the beginning of the hard work of building God’s kingdom – not the end.”

Ultimately, I hope and pray that we do get to a place of mutual forgiveness around racial injustice, including all the steps that will help to bring us there: reckoning with the past rather than trying to deny, diminish, or erase it; taking the time to name and acknowledge the pain; understanding that a bit of righteous anger may still be present, if that is what is needed to move toward restorative justice; and continuing the process of healing for all involved, even after forgiveness is achieved.

When we can do that, then we can find the freedom that forgiveness offers. Ultimately, to forgive another is to let go of our chains – our bitterness and grudges – and, transformed, move forward in love. To be forgiven offers us the same – release from the burden of our sins and being able to live into a new and restored life. But even before we get to the point of this difficult work coming to fruition, we can trust in the relentless forgiveness of our God, who is gracious and merciful, and full of compassion, who forgives debts far larger than we can ever know, removing our sins from us and inviting us into eternal life. May we, unlike the slave in the story, be so transformed by this incredible gift that we are moved to offer grace to one another, living lives of forgiven and forgiving people.

Let us pray… Merciful God, you offer us more forgiveness than we can comprehend. Strengthen us to forgive others, even as we continue to work passionately toward a more just world for everyone. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit.

Sermon: Daniel Prude, racial reconciliation, and the importance of being heard (Sept. 6, 2020)

Full service here. Sermon begins around 27:30. 

Pentecost 14A

September 6, 2020

Matthew 18:15-20

 

INTRODUCTION

         A couple of weeks ago, Jesus said to Peter, “On this rock I will build my church.” Matthew’s is the only Gospel that includes this addition to that story. In fact, of the four Gospel writers, Matthew is the one who is most concerned about the passing of Jesus’ authority to the apostles, and the establishment of the Church and its moral teachings and practical behavior. Today’s Gospel reading is an example of this interest in the Church, as Jesus shares an important teaching about managing conflict in the church (everyone’s favorite topic to avoid!). Seldom do we get such straightforward instructions from Jesus, and yet, when the opportunities come to follow this sage advice, we often do not take them.

         Our readings today are all about how we conduct ourselves in the face of conflict and wrong-doing. I’m certain there is something in here for everyone today, so listen carefully to what the Spirit is saying to you this day. Let’s listen.

[READ]

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

         This week, while reading about what’s been happening in Kenosha, WI, I found myself wondering, “I wonder when it’ll be Rochester that is in the news for something like this?” It wasn’t long. That very night, I read the article in The Democrat and Chronicle about the killing of Daniel Prude back in March. Since the news broke, protestors have taken to the Rochester streets, demanding justice for Prude’s family. By the end of each night, these peaceful protests have been dispersed with tear gas and rubber bullets. What was once something happening in other cities has come very publicly to our own backyard.

Consequently, when I returned to today’s Gospel lesson, I could not look at it with the same eyes. This text is, as it always has been, about reconciliation between individuals in the church. It’s about how to maintain community even in the midst of conflict – conflict that Jesus knew would occur because we’re human, and conflict is a part of being human. But this week’s news has caused me to wonder, what would it look like if we applied it not only to conflict between individuals, but to social reconciliation, and especially, to racial reconciliation?

Jesus’ formula is simple and practical: if someone wrongs you, sins against you, talk to them about it one-on-one. Don’t stuff it and let it fester, like so many of us are so good at doing. Bring it out in the open. If the person who has committed the wrong doesn’t listen, then bring someone along, a third party, and try again. If the message still doesn’t get through, then get a crowd involved, the whole Church even. And if they still don’t listen, Jesus says, let that one be like a tax collector or Gentile – which in Jesus speak, of course, is still someone worthy of love and care and prayer, but who is perhaps not yet ready to be in relationship, or be a more active part of the community.

There are some issues with this formula, of course, not the least of which is that conflict is seldom so straightforward that only one side is at fault. Still, even in its simplicity, can we apply it to racial conflict and reconciliation? As I considered this question this week, I realized that I have always read Jesus’ words as advice on how to handle when someone else has wronged me. Not once have I seen myself in the position of the wrong-doer. But as I have thought about this in light of this week’s news, and the possibility of racial reconciliation, I have found it difficult not to see white folks like me in the position of the wrong-doer in this scenario – if not in the arena of “things done,” then at least in the arena of “things left undone.”

Let me explain. Black folks have been trying to tell white people, and in particular the white church, that wrong has been and is being done to them, that they are suffering. White churches, even if well-intentioned, have for too long not listened. Just as in Jesus’ formula, the efforts Black people have made to be heard over time have escalated. But rather than listen, as Jesus’ formula implies the injuring party ought to do, we just ignore, chastise, or try to quiet those voices.

·      To the march for civil rights in the 60s, the church leaders said, “It’s not the right time.”

·      Protests after various people of color have been killed, often by law enforcement, in the past 10 years or so – well, we say, it was justified because he resisted arrest, or was selling cigarettes, or had a drug problem, or was reaching in his pocket which is threatening. (Though of course none of these things justify killing anyone on the spot.)

·      Ok, then, we’ll peacefully kneel during the National Anthem, to draw attention to the pain we are feeling – no, we say, that’s disrespectful to the flag.

·      Ok, let’s get a crowd to shut down 490 for a protest – nope, that’s too dangerous and a nuisance. What about emergency vehicles? 

·      And, in a last-ditch effort finally to be heard and noticed, let’s start breaking stuff and lighting fires – and the well-intentioned response is, “Stop with the destruction of property. You’re not helping your case. Find a different way to be heard, something more peaceful. Where is your sense of personal responsibility?”

Now, to be clear, I don’t like the looting, damage, and violence. I wish it wasn’t happening, and I especially don’t want to see it in my city. But I also understand, that when you’ve tried and tried to get someone who has sinned against you (actively or by way of compliance or passivity) to listen to you, and they still don’t, you start running out of options, and you often start yelling. People want to be heard. They need to be heard. When we don’t feel heard, we often start shouting, right? “You’re not hearing me – I’ll talk louder so you’ll understand!” Because people need to have their needs met, not to be shushed and shoved aside. Adults and children are the same in this. When my kids have a need and I’m not listening (as happens often in these days working from home!), they start yelling, screaming, or acting out until I do listen. Sure, I could close them up in their room, but that wouldn’t satisfy their need, nor stop their pain (in fact, it would likely magnify it, and it would come out more intensely the next time), and it wouldn’t solve the problem except that perhaps I could more easily ignore it. That screaming is what we are seeing play out in the street: a collective cry, asking to be heard. Without the injured party being heard, as Jesus’ makes clear today, we cannot achieve the reconciliation that Jesus calls the beloved community to seek. Let me say that again: until the injured party is heard, we cannot achieve the reconciliation Jesus calls us to seek.

Someone recently asked me, “Ok, so what policy ideas do you have to fix this unrest?” I don’t know. I don’t do policy, and never claimed to. What I do know is something about faithful living, and the gospel. So, let’s look at that: what does the gospel call us to do, as members of the beloved community, to seek racial reconciliation?

Let’s start by putting ourselves in this text in the position of the wrong-doer, the one who needs to listen. It’s not comfortable there, I know, but just try it. This week I have been trying to put my assumptions about people’s experience aside, and ask: what is it that I have been unable or unwilling to hear? What do you think you have not been hearing? What has the Church not been hearing? What is keeping us from hearing it? How can we make the effort to hear it and truly to listen, so that reconciliation might be found?

Next, we can ask ourselves: What would racial reconciliation look like? I can tell you right now, if it involves other people changing what they’re doing, but requires no change on your part, think again. With some exceptions, true reconciliation is seldom reached by one party saying, “I’m the one who is wrong here, and I’ll change everything,” and the other not budging or listening or seeking understanding. As I mentioned before, Jesus’ formula is really too simple, because interpersonal conflict is seldom one-directional, where one party is completely innocent and the other completely guilty. At the very least, it requires both parties to have empathy and understanding for one another. But reconciliation almost always requires everyone to admit some mistakes. So what do you, personally, need to admit? What do we as a church need to admit – where have we fallen short?

My friends, this is hard, hard work. I’ve been at it a few years now and am nowhere close to where I need to be. It is so much easier to ignore, and not have to face anyone telling us we have sinned against them, or participated in or even just benefited from a wrong done against them. But being able to ignore this is itself a position of privilege – people of color do not have the option of ignoring it. It is a daily reality. And now that this racism pandemic has so publicly come to our town, we really can’t ignore it either.

We are tired, I know – with quarantine weariness, with anxiety about school starting, with sadness and grief. It feels at times insurmountable to address racial reconciliation, too. That is when we must draw our attention to the end of this passage, where Jesus says, “Where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them.” Yes, even when we are faced with our sin, Jesus is there among us. Even when we work through conflicts, both personal and social, Jesus is there among us. Where two or three or even a whole Church or denomination are working through challenging issues and having difficult conversations, Jesus is there among us, leading us ever to the new life that was promised to us in baptism, and which is ours every time we face the prospect of death. Reconciliation on any level is difficult heart work, but it is work that brings about new life. And where there is new life – Jesus is there among us.

Let us pray… Reconciling God, we are a broken people in need of forgiveness for our sins, and in need of your presence as we seek to mend our communities. Thank you for being a God who hears our needs, forgives our sins, and promises to be with us as we seek to be your beloved community. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit.