"Waiting for the Power": A Sermon from Littlefield Presbyterian Church on Acts 1:1-14.

"Waiting for the Power"

Luke 24:44-53; Acts 1:1-14

In churches that follow the liturgical calendar, we’re coming to the end of Eastertide, the season when we focus on celebrating the Resurrection.  The third major festival of the Christian year, the celebration of the gift of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost, comes next Sunday.   Before we get to Pentecost, we celebrate the Ascension, and we hear the part of the story that Luke/Acts places between Easter and Pentecost. 

            One part of the story is that Jesus has ascended to glory with God.  The glory of the risen and ascended Christ is good news-- something to celebrate.

            But the other themes in the story invite us to look at the Ascension from a very human perspective, the disciples’ point of view, which is where we stand.   

            Up until now, Jesus has been the chief actor in the gospel drama.      From his birth to his death, it’s Jesus who keeps the story moving. 

In the forty days following the resurrection, the risen Jesus appeared to his followers a number of times and continued to teach them about the kingdom of God. 

            But they were still living under Roman occupation. There were still people who were poor and hungry and marginalized. Things were still not right in the world.  So, when Jesus told his followers to wait in Jerusalem, where they would be baptized by the Holy Spirit, they asked, “Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom?”

             Jesus answered, “It isn’t for you to know these things. But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be my witnesses.” Then they saw Jesus lifted up, and a cloud, which the Bible uses as a symbol of God’s presence--lifted Jesus out of their sight.  And now he’s gone from their sight.

When Jesus was carried up into heaven, the reality they were facing was that Jesus was no longer a part of their daily life, in the same way he had been before. 

             

            Now what?  What are Jesus’ followers supposed to do?        It would have been hard not to feel anxious and impatient—just as it can be for us.

            There’s so much bad news in the world-- so much fear and anxiety and hatred. Since earlier this past week, our hearts are heavy with the news of precious lives lost: mostly young concert-goers in Manchester, England and a promising young college graduate in Maryland, stabbed to death by a white supremacist.

            In the 24-hour news cycle, we haven’t been hearing much about refugees in the past few months, but a few days ago we heard that more than 30 perished when an overcrowded boat listed while trying to reach Europe from North Africa, and that most of the bodies recovered were toddlers.

            An 18-year-old former neo-Nazi / white supremacist converted to Islam and murdered two of his white supremacist roommates and told the police he killed them because they didn’t respect his Muslim faith.

            We heard about an attack on a caravan of Coptic Christian pilgrims heading to a monastery in Minya, Egypt that killed 28 people.  Friday two men were killed and another injured when they stepped in to protect 2 women from a man who was shouting ethnic and anti-Muslim slurs at them.  This man, too, turned out to be a white supremacist.

            In our nation’s South, there are conflicts over removing statues that celebrate leaders of the Confederacy. Closer to home, we have a controversy over what place a statue of former Dearborn mayor Orville Hubbard should have.

            Concerns have been raised in local cities about justice and due process in detentions deportations of undocumented immigrants and the impact of current policies on their families.

            In our nation’s capital, politicians are debating matters that include who deserves to have enough to eat and adequate, affordable medical coverage, how we will care for the environment, and much more. The litany of losses and pain and struggle is long.

            Do you want to just shout, “How long, Lord?”  “Is this the time you’re going to make things right in the world?  We want to know what the plan is. We want to know now.

            Lord, is this the time?

            Hear what Jesus says: “It is not for you to know the times or periods that the Father has set byfor some time for reflection, whether at home or away. It can be an opportunity for us to renew our sense of gratitude for those who have served their country and for the freedoms we enjoy because of that service and sacrifice. It can also be a time for us to renew our sense of commitment to wohis own authority.”    It is not for us to know all the details of the big plan.

            Christ’s charge to them comes with a promise: “You will be baptized with the Holy Spirit...  You will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.”

            Luke tells us that the disciples worshipped the risen and ascended Christ.  They returned to Jerusalem with great joy, and they were continually in the temple blessing God.

            In the verses following the passage we read in Acts, Luke tells how the disciples returned to Jerusalem and went to the upper room where they were staying, where they and certain women were constantly devoting themselves to prayer.  On the day of Pentecost, disciples were gathered together in one place when the power of the Holy Spirit came upon them from on high. 

            The first disciples were called to wait during times of transition--with trust and hope…with eagerness and expectancy.

            This Memorial Day long weekend will bring a variety of parades and other celebrations and

rking for a world that is more just and peaceful.

           

            When the first disciples couldn’t see where the future would lead them, when they couldn’t see where the future would lead them, they remained focused on the drama of God’s salvation story, and worshiped God with great joy.  Their joyful worship as they waited helped to center themselves in God’s gracious, powerful promises

            Do we believe God can use us to transform the world?   Do we believe that we can do all things, through Christ, who strengthens us?      How many of us want to believe these things?       

            I believe God has the power to work miracles, and that God wants to use us to change people’s lives.  But it is not in God’s nature to coerce us.  We have choices.                

           

            In his book, God’s Politics, which a group of us read together some years ago, Jim Wallis talks about “The Critical Choice:  Hope Versus Cynicism.”[1] 

            Wallis says that one of the big struggles of our times is the fundamental choice between cynicism and hope.  The prophets always begin in judgment, in a social critique of the status quo, but they end in hope—that these realities can and will be changed.  This choice between cynicism and hope is ultimately a spiritual choice—one that has enormous political consequences.  He argues for a better religion--  a prophetic faith—the religion of Jesus and the prophets.

            As Wallis says, cynicism can protect you from seeming foolish to believe that things could and will change.  It protects you from disappointment.  It protects you from insecurity, because now you are free to pursue your own security instead of sacrificing it for a social engagement, if you decide that it won’t work anyway. 

            Ultimately, cynicism protects you from commitment.  If things aren’t really going to change, why try so hard to make a difference?... Why take the risks, make the sacrifices, open yourself to the vulnerabilities?  Cynics are finally free just to look after themselves… and pursue their own agendas.

            According to Wallis, the difference between the cynics and the saints is the presence, power, and possibility of hope.  And that is indeed a spiritual and faith issue.  More than just a moral issue, hope is a spiritual and even a religious choice. 

            I agree with Wallis when he says that hope is not a feeling.  It is a decision.  And the decision for hope is based on what you believe at the deepest levels—what your most basic convictions about the world and what the future holds--  all based on your faith.

            We can choose hope, not as a naive wish, but as a choice, with your eyes wide open to the reality of the world.  I believe this hope is grounded in faith…and nurtured in our worship life.

            The Civil Rights movement in the United States grew out of the African-American church… and then others joined in—people who chose to hope in a society in which there is justice for all. We’re still waiting and hoping for the fulfillment of that dream. 

            During the days of Apartheid in South Africa, Archbishop Emeritus Desmond Tutu used to say, “We are prisoners of hope.”  

            I know I’ve shared this story with you before, but it’s powerful and inspiring.  During Apartheid, the South African Security Police came  into the Cathedral of St. George’s during Tutu’s sermon at an ecumenical service.

            Tutu stopped preaching and just looked at the intruders as they lined the walls of the cathedral, wielding writing pads and tape recorders to record whatever he said   and thereby threatening him with consequences for any bold prophetic utterances.

            They had already arrested Tutu and other church leaders just a few weeks before and kept them in jail for several days to make a statement and a point:  religious leaders who take on leadership roles in the struggle against apartheid would be treated like any other opponents of the Pretoria regime.

            After meeting their eyes with his in a steely gaze, Tutu acknowledged their power, saying, “You are powerful,  very powerful.”  But then he reminded them that he served a higher power greater than their political authority:  “I serve a God who cannot be mocked!”

            Then in an extraordinary challenge to political tyranny, Archbishop Desmond Tutu told the representatives of South African apartheid, “Since you have already lost, I invite you today to come and join the winning side!”  He said it with a smile on his face and enticing warmth in his invitation, but with a clarity and a boldness that took everyone’s breath away. 

            The congregation’s response was electric.  The crowd was literally transformed by the bishop’s challenge to power.  The heavily armed security forces that surrounded the cathedral and greatly outnumbered the band of worshipers.  Yet the congregation was moved—empowered—to literally leap to their feet, shouting the praises of God.            They began dancing.  They danced out of the cathedral to meet the awaiting police and military forces of apartheid, who hardly expected a confrontation with dancing worshipers.  Not knowing what else to do, they backed up to provide the space for the people of faith to dance for freedom in the streets of South Africa.

           

            Some time later, a few days before Nelson Mandela was inaugurated as President of South Africa, Wallis remembers wondering, “Who would have ever believed?  And that’s just the point, he says.  We have to believe.

            I know…   I know…   What we see going on in our nation and in the world seems overwhelming.

            And yet, we are called.  Christ has given us a Great Commission:   You shall be my witnesses.

            We have Christ’s promise:  You will receive power…

             

            Like the first disciples, we have the promises of God to cling to, even in times of sorrow and anxiety.   These promises are ours, even at times when it seems that Christ has vanished and the Holy Spirit is not breathing down our necks or in our lives.^[2][1]  

            So let us cling to God’s promises and rejoice in them. There will be accomplishments and setbacks, joys and sorrows. In the midst of it, we can trust that God is with us, comforting, celebrating with us, accompanying and strengthening us, even when we can’t see it. We can give thanks that God is preparing us to live with less fear and more generosity, preparing us to look out for the rights of others, and to work for a more merciful and just world.

            Thanks be to God!

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[1] Jim Wallis, God’s Politics: Why the Right Gets It Wrong and the Left Doesn’t Get It.”  HarperSanFrancisco, 2006.

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^[1]I am grateful to Marjorie Menaul for this phrase, which really resonated with me.

"It's All About Love". A Sermon on Good News Sunday at Littlefield Presbyterian Church.

"It's All About Love"

1 John 4:7-21; John 15:9-17; Isaiah 43:1-7

Today is officially Good News Sunday at Littlefield!   We told people that—if they brought someone to worship today—we promise that they would hear some good news! 

            I hope that people were paying attention to the scripture passages today as they were being read…and the words of the Psalm we sang.  Have you heard some good news?  [I hope so.  That takes a bit of the pressure off me, now.  Though I’ll do my best.]

            I do believe we have good news to share--  important and transformative-- life-changing good news.  Sometimes I think I risk sounding like a “broken record.”   Some of you have heard me say it over and over again, in various ways.   But the more I’ve studied the scriptures over the years and looked for the main themes and the big picture,  the more I’ve become  convinced that our Christian faith is all about love. 

            God loves us.  We are—all of us-- God’s beloved children.  Our faith is about responding to God’s love for us and for all God’s children by loving God and loving all the people God loves. 

            The Old Testament includes a lot of stories and verses that a lot of us find puzzling and troubling.  Yet one of the major themes in the Old Testament is of God’s steadfast mercy.  One of my Old Testament teachers at seminary did her doctoral dissertation on the recurring theme of “hesed”, which is a Hebrew word that can be translated as “mercy,” or “steadfast loving-kindness.”   One of the other prominent themes in the Old Testament is how God keeps sending prophets to call people back to living in right relationship with God and with their neighbors…  and how those right relationships are characterized by love and justice and mercy.

             The gospel message in the New Testament proclaims in various ways how Jesus came to live among us, full of grace and truth,  to embody God’s love for us   and to show us how to live in the way of love.  Jesus preached about the “kingdom of God” or the “reign of God” or “God’s dream for us”  and how we are called to live into it.       

            When people asked Jesus what the most important commandment is, he said what’s most important is two-fold:  Love God.  Love your neighbor. 

In the parable of the Good Samaritan,  Jesus made it clear that your neighbor is anybody we encounter—even people who are different…  even people we might see as enemies. 

            In his last talk with his disciples, Jesus said, “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you.  People will know you are my followers by the way you love one another.”[1]

            In the gospel lesson we heard today, Jesus tells his followers, “If you keep my commandments—the commandments to love God and love the neighbor—we will abide in his love.  He tells his disciples that he has said these things so that we may have his joy, and that our joy may be complete.”

            Jesus made it very clear that it’s all about love.  So I keep wondering how so many people who call themselves Christians could be so confused about this.

 

            We live in such a broken and fearful world.   Our government spends vast amounts of resources fighting terrorism.  Alarm systems to protect homes, businesses, and even churches are commonplace.  

            In this election season, we hear some politicians speaking to the fears and prejudices of many voters.  There are people who are afraid of Muslims… people afraid of African-Americans—especially males.  Muslims are afraid of being attacked.   African-Americans are afraid of being shot by police officers who are afraid of them.  

            So many people in our society fear and mistrust those who are different:  Muslims…  people whose skin is a different color…  immigrants.    

            We live in a nation wracked by gun violence.  Every year in the United States, on average,  more than 111,000 people are shot in murders, assaults, suicides & suicide attempts, unintentional shootings, or by police intervention, and over 32,000 die.      That’s an average of 306 people shot every day, and 90 of them die.   Every day, 48 children and teens are shot, and 7 die.  Precious lives, of beloved children of God—lost. 

            There are too many people in our nation and around the world who are hungry or food insecure.

            Around the world, there’s war… genocide… people living under occupation. 

            The list could go on and on.  The bad news in our local communities, in our nation, and around the globe can feel overwhelming.

            In the midst of all this brokenness and fear and injustice, how are we-- as people of faith-- called to live?

           

            “Beloved, let us love one another, because love is from God.  Everyone who loves is born of God and knows God.  Whoever does not love does not know God--  for God is love….  Since God loved us so much, we also ought to love one another.    No one has ever seen God.  If we love one another, God lives in us, and his love is perfected in us.”

            What I hear in this is that loving one another is a spiritual practice, and that-- as we work at loving one another—God is living in us and working in us and perfecting love in us….

            “There is no fear in love.  But perfect love casts out fear.  Whoever fears has not reached maturity in love.”

            We love because God first loved us.   If we say, “I love God” but hate our brother or sister, we’re lying about loving God.   As we heard in First John,  “those who do not love a brother or sister whom they have seen—cannot love God, whom they have not seen.

            Fear divides us.  It leads to violence and destruction.   Hatred and fear are toxic.  They harm us as persons… and as a society.

            But there is a way out.  It is not the way of fear, and hate and violence;  it is the way of love.    In Dr. Martin Luther King’s words:  “Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that.  Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.”
            Fifty-three years after Dr. King gave his “I have a dream speech” during the March on Washington, we can see that we have made progress.   Just yesterday, at the opening of the new Smithsonian National Museum of African American History and Culture on the National Mall in Washington, President Obama, the First Lady, and 99-year-old Ruth Bonner, the daughter of a man born into slavery, together rang the bell to celebrate the opening. 

 But if we’re honest with ourselves, we know that we have a long way to go.  And so… we need to be in prayer.   We need to open our lives to God’s call in our lives, as we live further into God’s dream for the world—the world that God so loves.   

            We need to come together as a community of faith--  not for the sake of coming to a place called church--  but for the sake of coming together as part of the Body of Christ… for the sake of gathering as disciples who need to learn and practice living in the way of love.   We need to encourage one another… and love one another.  We need to love one another into becoming more and more the beloved children of God we were created to be.  
            I remember one stewardship season John Haugen stood before us and told us about how he and Reema came to be regular attenders here, rather than coming a few times a year.  He said he’d been so disheartened by the outcome of an election and some of the things that were going on in the world.  And then he said, “But what am I doing to make things better?”  So they promised themselves that they’d come every Sunday for a while, and then they just kept coming. 
            John was invited to share his faith, and I’ll never forget his witness.  He told us, “I’m a better person because I’m a part of the people here.” 
            I think that’s an important part of why we need to come together as a community of faith.  We keep getting reminded that God loves us, that we are beloved children of God.  We’re challenged to love God fully and to love our neighbors, and we encourage one another.

When we understand ourselves to be beloved children of God, when we start seeing others as God’s beloved children, it changes us.  It’s transformative.

            God isn’t finished with any of us yet, and our love isn’t yet perfect, and it hasn’t yet cast out all our fears.   But God is still working in and among and through us,   through the power of the Holy Spirit-- leading and empowering us to become more patient and kind and generous… and helping us to become less envious or controlling… less irritable or resentful. 
            God is still working in us, guiding us further into the truth, re-forming us, teaching us what it means to go out and be the church out in the world.

            The good news is that as we grow more and more into God’s way of love, God’s love will cast out our fears.

            In a broken and fearful world,  we can trust in the Holy Spirit to give us courage to pray without ceasing.   As we work with others for justice, freedom and peace, our lives will be transformed, and we can change the world.     

            So be it! Amen!

          

Rev. Fran Hayes, Pastor

Littlefield Presbyterian Church

Dearborn, Michigan

September 26, 2016

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[1] John 13:31-35

"The Power of Love and Forgiveness". A sermon from Littlefield Presbyterian Church on the 15th Anniversary of 9/11.

"The Power of Love and Forgiveness"

Romans 12:9-21; Matthew 18:21-35

Today is the fifteen year anniversary of September 11, 2001.   Over the past days we’ve been reminded of the tragic events of that day and their aftermath. As the suffering of this horrible event unfolded in the hours and days that followed, we felt afraid… and vulnerable.    We grieved.

            How many of you remember where you were when he heard about this? 

I remember I was getting ready to leave the house, and I had a morning show on when they showed the first tower being hit and coming down.  I carried a little 5-inch TV in to church and followed in horror the chaos and devastation as it unfolded.  I remember the heroic responses of the first responders, and a city and nation of people taking care of each other.

The media brought to our attention all kinds of examples of how the people of our nation rallied in the face of tragedy.  Everywhere, in acts large and small, people came together to help and to take care of each other.   

Firefighters and welders and others from Michigan and around the country went to Manhattan to help the recovery effort.  Chefs and restaurant owners in Manhattan fed the search-and-rescue workers.

            At Atlanta's Hartsfield airport, a gate attendant looked out at thousands of passengers stranded when their flights were canceled, and was touched by their plight.  She called her friends, asking them to bring vans to the airport and offer lodging to the weary strangers.  She herself put up seven people in her home.

In the days following September 11, 2001, a similar spirit of solidarity broke out abroad, and dividing lines of all sorts vanished in the wake of the crisis, even in our nation's Congress. 

            When the airspace over the North Atlantic was closed, flight crews were told to land at the nearest airport.  In Gander, Newfoundland-- a town of around 10,000, with about 600 hotel beds-- somewhere between six and 10 thousand airline passengers and crew members were stranded.  The people of Gander and surrounding communities fed them, provided places for them to sleep, toiletries and other necessities, and overwhelmed them with hospitality. 

We were reminded that in the midst of devastation and chaos, God can work in and through us to bring about good.

I remember in those first days after 9/11 how we held hands together in this sanctuary and prayed… and how we opened the sanctuary and welcomed people from the community—including our Muslim neighbors—who felt safe coming here to pray in the quiet.   We put signs up in the entrances that said, “This is a hate-free zone.”  We met together in each others’ houses of worship to grieve and pray together.   And we re-committed ourselves to work for interfaith understanding and cooperation. 

On the first Sundays after September 11, 2001, broken-hearted people gathered in churches, grieving and praying and hoping to hear a word from the Lord.  

There was a season of crisis and public mourning, but it was brief.   Strong cultural forces were soon at work coaxing the national mood out of its rhythm of lament.          

As Jim Wallis wrote near the tenth anniversary, “Within a short period of time, the official reaction to terrorism would simply be defined as war -- a decade of it -- resulting in many more innocent casualties than on September 11, 2001.   In response to America's own suffering, many others in Afghanistan, Iraq, and around the world would now suffer -- all in the name of our war on terrorism.  The opportunity for deeper understanding, reflection, and redirection would elude us as we sought to erase our vulnerability with the need to demonstrate our superior force and power.  This was done quite easily in the early days of both our new wars. But now, we see that the longest series of wars in American history has failed to resolve or reverse the causes of the violence that struck us, or to make us safer.  They just made it all worse.”[1]

Wallis wrote--  and I agree—that “the world expected and would have supported a focused and sustained effort to pursue and bring this small band of criminals to justice.  But [the]… years of manipulated and corrupted intelligence, endless war, practices and policies of torture, violations of human rights, and trillions of dollars wasted caused America to lose the high ground long ago…”

Fifteen years later, as we remember and reflect, we need to ask ourselves whether our reliance on war and violence have made the world a better and safer place—or more divided, polarized, and dangerous.  I don’t have any simple answers for you today.  But as people of faith-- as Christians-- we need to be praying about this. 

On this anniversary, we remember all that was lost to us that day:   our sense of security… our peace… and our belief that we were safe from such random violence and death.  Most of all we remember those who died in New York, Washington and Pennsylvania, their lives of promise extinguished in hatred.  And we remember those whose lives and health were changed forever because of their service at Ground Zero, people have died over the years and those who continue to struggle with cancer and other physical and mental illnesses.   

We follow Jesus the Christ, whom we know in part as the Prince of Peace.  We are called to ask how Jesus would respond to acts of terror and violence. 

As people who say we value all human life, we need to grieve the loss of American lives, and we also need to grieve the loss of civilian lives due to our nation’s military actions.  Our armed forces apparently don’t keep track of deaths resulting from our military actions.[2]  But the estimated documented civilian deaths from violence following the 2003 invasion of Iraq is estimated to be between 163,000 to more than 182,000.[3]

As followers of Jesus, I believe we are called to find Christ-like ways to respond to issues of injustice and violence.  I think we need to resist the temptation to identify ourselves too easily with the Israelites who pass unharmed through the Red Sea, while their pursuers, the Egyptians, are drowned.

In his commentary on the Exodus story, Theodore Wardlaw describes the pillar of fire and cloud that “came between the arm of Egypt and the army of Israel” as a sign of a mysterious and  unpredictable God—not a God who is always biased toward one people at the expense of another,  but “a God who is steadfastly preoccupied with a gracious horizon that we cannot comprehend.[4]   As Wardlaw puts it, “God is, quite simply, bigger than us and our agendas.” 

There’s an old Hasidic story that tells how the angels were rejoicing over the deliverance of Israel at the Red Sea—playing their harps, and singing and dancing.

            “Wait,” said one of them.   “Look—the Creator of the Universe is sitting there weeping!”   They approached God and asked, “Why are you weeping when Israel has been delivered by your power?” 

            “I am weeping,” said the Master of the Universe, “for the dead Egyptians washed up on the shore—somebody’s sons, somebody’s husbands, somebody’s fathers.”[5]

As Archbishop Desmond Tutu says:  “God loves our enemies as much as God loves us.”  This is true, because God is love. 

            God’s ways are not our ways.  God’s love is greater and more gracious and inclusive than we can comprehend.   But we are called to live more fully into God’s way--  the way of love.

In the 18^th chapter of Matthew, Jesus has been giving his disciples instructions on how to live together in Christian community.   Listening to Jesus, Peter gets concerned about what, exactly, is required of him.  He's looking for a guideline, a limit to how forgiving he has to be.

Peter says to Jesus,  "Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive?  As many as seven times?"

            To Peter, and probably to a lot of folks, his proposal to forgive his fellow Christian seven times probably sounds extravagantly generous--  especially since we don't have any reason to assume that the offending party has repented.   Seven is a lot of times to forgive someone.

            We aren't very good at forgiveness.  It isn't some natural, inborn human emotion.  Now, vengeance, retribution, violence--  these are natural human qualities. 

When you have been hurt, it's a natural human reaction to want to hurt somebody back.  When someone you care about has been hurt or killed, it's a natural human response to want revenge.

  But our Christian faith teaches that, when the Love of God is at the center of our life, we are called to move beyond what is the natural human response. 

As followers of Jesus, we need to seek the response that is consistent with the response that Jesus  would make. If it isn't loving, it isn't of God.

As if what we hear Jesus saying in the gospels doesn’t set the bar high enough, we hear the apostle Paul speaking to the church at Rome:  “We do not live to ourselves, and we do not die to ourselves.  If we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die, we die to the Lord.  So then, whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord’s…. Why do you pass judgment on your brother or sister?  Why do you despise your brother or sister?  For we will all stand before the judgment seat of God….  Each of us will be accountable to God.”[6]

We will be accountable to God for how we live our lives.   We are called into the life of love and forgiveness.   The apostle Paul describes marks of the true Christian:  “Let love be genuine.  Hate what is evil.  Hold fast to what is good.  Love one another with mutual affection.  Outdo one another in showing honor…. Be patient in suffering, persevere in prayer… extend hospitality to strangers. 

“Bless those who persecute you.  Bless and do not curse them…. Live in harmony with one another…. Do not repay anyone evil for evil… So far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all.   Never avenge yourselves, but leave room for the wrath of God, for it is written, ‘Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.’  No, if your enemies are hungry, feed them.  If they are thirsty, give them something to drink, for by doing this you will heap burning coals on their heads.  Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.”[7]

These are challenging words—easier to hear or say than to live.  It’s hard to love people… to live in harmony… to live peaceably with all--  especially those we see as Other.  And yet that’s what we are called to do in our Christian life, even when we’re afraid of those who are different, afraid of what will happen if we let them in. 

I think Will Willimon is right when he says, “In presenting our church with sisters and brothers whom we fear as the Other, God is not only testing us but giving us a gracious opportunity to recover the adventure of discipleship.  By the grace of God and the ministrations of the church, we are enabled to have better lives than if Christ had left us to our own devices.”[8]

 Willimon says that some of the first passages seminary students ordinarily translate from Greek to English are from First John, and one of the verses that sets the agenda for this book is John 4:18:  “Perfect love casts out fear.”    Willimon remembers that many years ago his professor said, “In First John, the Greek is easy to read, but its message is hard to live.”[9]

Indeed!

Consider the messages we hear in our culture.  Listen to the rhetoric of political campaigns and the arguments we’ve heard against admitting Syrian refugees. 

Loving the “other” is counter-cultural.  “Xenophobic, exclusionary fear of the Other is more than a matter of preferring the people we enjoy hanging out with or those with whom we feel most comfortable.  When we fear the Other, we separate ourselves from others in order to better oppress, exploit, expulse, confine, hurt, or deny justice and access to others whom we have judged to be so Other as to be beyond the bounds of having any bond between us or any claim upon us.”[10] 

Part of the recent debates over whether or not to admit Syrian refugees has been, “If we let them in, what’s the cost?  Will our nation be less secure?  What will they cost our society, our economy?

And yet we who follow Jesus are called to practice hospitality.  As Paul wrote, “Welcome each other, in the same way that Christ also welcomed you, for God’s glory”[11]

             

Because God has planted Littlefield here in east Dearborn and entrusted us with a ministry of reconciliation,[12] we’ve been in interfaith relationships for decades.  We may take for granted that most of us have friends who are Muslim and that we even find ways to pray and work together.  But elsewhere it’s a different matter.

           

            Five years ago, the Memphis Islamic Center had purchased property to build a new mosque, but they didn’t have a place to pray for Ramadan.   It was a difficult time.  Proposed Islamic centers were encountering resistance around the country, from New York City to Murfreesboro, Tennessee.

Across the street from their new property, the pastor of Heartsong Church put a sign up outside their church that said, “Welcome to the neighborhood, Memphis Islamic Center.” 

            The Heartsong congregation invited the Muslim community to celebrate Ramadan inside their church building while their own center was under construction.

            Now, not everyone was thrilled.   Rev. Stone was criticized by some colleagues.  Some members of the Heartsong Church were unhappy, and over time 20 members left the church, out of a congregation of 550. 

            After the Memphis Islamic Center was complete, the two congregations continued to develop a strong relationship.  Once a month, they continued to work together to help the homeless in their neighborhood.  They have learned to respect each other’s different faith traditions.   And Pastor Stone and members of Heartsong Church say their congregation is better and stronger because of it.

            Fifteen years after 9/11, let us remember.  Let us prayerfully imagine what the world would be like if God’s will is done… and then let us re-commit ourselves to live more fully into the Beloved Community God desires for us and for all of God’s children. 

            We don’t need to be afraid, because we have this assurance: “There is no fear in love, but that perfect love drives out fear.”

            Thanks be to God!

           

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[1] Jim Wallis, “Ten Years after 9/11: The Good and The Bad.”  Posted at Sojo.net 9/8/11.

[2] “We don’t do body counts.” – General Tommy Franks.   https://www.iraqbodycount.org/

[3] https://www.iraqbodycount.org/

[4] Theodore J. Wardlaw, “Living by the Word,” in Christian Century (Sept. 6, 2011), p. 18. 

[5] Quoted by Albert C. Winn in his sermon “A Way Out of No Way: Exodus 14:5-31.”

[6] Romans 14:7-12

[7] Romans 12:9-21

[8] William Willimon, Fear of the Other: No Fear in Love (Abingdon Press, 2016).  Kindle edition, Location 77. 

[9] Willimon, Location 91.

[10] William Willimon.

[11] Romans 15:7

[12] 2 Corinthians 5:18