As I shared two weeks ago, it is the oft-repeated phrase
in Luke from God to humankind. “Do not
be afraid.” Luke’s gospel begins with the
angel telling an unmarried, soon-to-be-pregnant teenager, soon-to-be migrant
and then a refugee, a peasant (meaning a farmer without land), “Do not be
afraid.” An angel appears to shepherds,
those who did not own the fields they slept in, who did not own the sheep,
stinking to high heaven, “Do not be afraid.”
Again, it is this assumption that the status quo for the poor and
destitute, life is so hard, that they would be terrified God might visit them,
might be a part of their lives. For
certainly, didn’t the life they were living, the violence that was a part of
their everyday lives, indicate God was against them? Angels must remind people like Mary, the
shepherds, and this week, the disciples, not to be afraid of God or what God
has in store for them.
Jesus begins the Scripture reading today with, “Do not
fear, little flock, for it is the loving Creator’s good wish to give you the
kingdom.” If you are hearing these
stories told of this Jesus fella’, you hear “do not be afraid” repeated over
and over again. It sets the tone. It reminds you, that as you step out into the
world, you can risk boldly when God is ready to act in the world.
Two weeks ago I tried to say that the Lord’s prayer and
Jesus’s teaching bracketing that prayer taught that God is good. “Come out, Eunice! Apparently God does not wish to smite us!” No, “what person of you would give their
child a snake when they asked for an egg, or a scorpion when they asked for
bread?”
Fundamentally, Jesus had to teach the disciples a message
that was counter to the world they saw around them, a counter-cultural message,
a message that was opposite the one Rome intended for them, “No,” Jesus is
saying, “God wants to give you the keys to the kingdom. God is good.”
For people living in poverty, death, and violence, they
had to wonder. Was life some cruel
joke? If God ordained the status quo,
what kind of arbitrary and punishing god was this that we, and our people, the
Jews, and particularly the most faithful among us, live these short and harsh
lives? Who would want to follow such a
God, be the disciple of someone who regularly encouraged us to be their followers? The Roman gods love to be in charge in their
quest for power over us. But what kind
of God is this? Jesus has to go about
reminding the disciples that their God is the God of the slaves and not the
taskmasters. Remember?
That seems to be a part of our human condition,
right? Many of us have been taught that
faith is not to question and to know that God is in heaven and all may not be
right with the world . . . but it’s just because you dummies haven’t got it
figured it out yet. Cancer visits . . .
multiple times. We lose a child early
in life. We see addiction destroying our
life. Or the life of someone we
love. Mental illness makes our life
anxious. Or a living hell. If I trusted in a God who cared about being
almighty and worked by having power over, just one of these tragedies in my
life would have me storming the halls of heaven with serious questions. Maybe regardless of how we picture God, those
questions should be front and center.
I know there are times when I find myself raging at God
through an addiction I cannot shake.
“Where are you?? Is this what you
intended for my life? I have asked and
asked . . . and you, you are nowhere to be found! Who do I feel like I walk through this all
alone? How can you be called ‘almighty’
when I see you have no power over me?”
Sometimes, only sometimes, the silence after my raging
gives way to a far deeper wisdom which reminds me that Christ crucified is not
about a God who cares about being almighty or winning or showing off
power. Rather, what we have, is a God,
who through Christ’s life and ministry, reminds us the power of what it means
to walk with hurting folk, who finds true treasure and value in making sure our
neighbor makes it through another day, a God we touch and feel in the brown
earth as we garden or smell a wildflower, a God who wants us to piece together
systems and structures in ways that are not about hoarding and fear—but about
love and compassion. What if we were to
risk that? Tell others we’re just
repeating the small fractals, rhythms and practices, God is doing in our
hearts?
Jesus seems to know, he seems to know, that taking such
risks only happens when we know that God is good, the fear dissipates, and
MMMmmm . . .MMMM, we know we are loved. Again,
our Scripture verse begins today with Jesus saying, “Don’t be afraid, little
flock, because your loving Creator delights in giving you the empire, the
kingdom. All of it is yours. God wants you to have it. God wants to give it to you.” Become a murmuration, little flock, a
murmuration of God’s love.
Before the Scripture lesson for today are verses left out
of the lectionary which are my favorite.
I have chosen them for my installation.
And you will hear me repeat them over and over again as evidence of
God’s love.
Therefore, I say to you, don’t worry about your life, what
you will eat, or about your body, what you will wear. There is more to life than food and more to
the body than clothing. Consider the
ravens: they neither plant nor harvest,
they have no silo or barn, yet God feeds them.
You are worth so much more than birds!
Who among you by worrying can add a single moment to your life? If you can’t do such a small thing, why worry
about the rest? Notice how the
wildflowers grow. They don’t wear
themselves out with work, and they don’t spin cloth. But I say to you that even Solomon, the
wealthiest and most powerful person in our nation’s history, he could not adorn
himself or make himself more beautiful than one of these wildflowers. You beauties, you! If God dresses grass in the field so
beautifully, even though it’s alive today and gone in a season, how much more
will God do for you? . . . You beauties!
Do we hear what those verses
are saying over and over again to Jews living in poverty, violence, and
death? Can we let them sing into the
marrow of our boens and melt into our bloodstream. I try to tell you every week of God’s love in
worship so it gets deep into you.
Because I know it can be hard to trust.
You are loved. You
are cherished. And in being loved and
cherished, you are now free to risk dreaming the dream and living the life God
invites you to follow. Little flock, God
loves you and wants you to have the keys to the kingdom. Jesus makes it clear that it looks nothing
like the kingdom Rome has constructed—concerned about who is no. 1, who is the
winner, who has the most power.
How ironic that this same Jesus seems to be worshipped by
so many who wish to make him no. 1, proclaim him as the ultimate warrior and
winner, have an ever greater bloodlust for more and more power, declaring who
is in and who is out. Our culture has so
transfigured what it means to lean an authentic life.
I know I am pulled that direction all the time. With 35 years in ordained ministry, I see
colleagues praised and celebrated in the wider church. And I wonder what happened to me? What ladder do I need to climb? What book do I need to write? What great thing do I need to do that will
have the Michigan Conference and the wider United Church of Christ shouting,
“Yea, verily, he hath done well. Let us
accord him all pomp and circumstance that he so rightly deserves.” I have the princess wave thoroughly practiced
for when they throw me my parade.
Charles Dickens lived at a time when the Industrial
Revolution had begun to take its toll on the populace and those who led out the
French Revolution saw a light for something more egalitarian and fraternal, for
a different tomorrow because today was full of suffering. The story begins and ends with the iconic
words, “It was the best of times. It was
the worst of times.” And indeed it
was. Even though the revolutionaries
sought a different day, the time was one of unspeakable horror and violence—the
guillotine used as a tool for punishing a violent, autocratic rule which
offered little solace for the poor and suffering. While legend has it that Marie-Antionette
offered, “Let them eat cake,” in response to the poor asking for bread, the
revolutionaries countered with their own Reign of Terror in which heads,
literally, rolled. Violence upon
violence.
It was a time of crisis—a time when the hands on the clock
of human history stood still as the world teetered on the horns of the old and
violent and the new and violent. In the
midst of this crisis, this turning point, Dickens drops this tale. As in many good stories, Dickens tells a
personal story on the horns of old and new within the wider, sweeping story.
A young couple is married.
The bride, Lucie, literally meaning “light,” brightens every corner she
is on. She is loved by all those who
come into contact with her for the love and compassion she shares. Living out her Christian faith, Lucie’s
goodness and mercy transform every situation.
But she is heartsick.
Her husband, Darnay, has somehow become entangled in the French
Revolution. The revolutionary Jacobins
have thrown Darnay into the Bastille, the legendary prison, awaiting his later
execution by the guillotine.
Enter the cynical, alcoholic attorney, Sydney Carton, who
has long embodied all the stereotypes of what it means to be an
attorney—thinking himself intellectually superior and compassionately
detached. Though we learn Carton bears a
striking physical resemblance to Darnay, he bears no ethical resemblance. Carton cares only for himself. He has led his life without concern for
circumstance or injustice only to dazzle others with his brilliance in the
courtroom.
But there is a deeper wisdom that Carton recognizes in the
Christian woman, Lucie. Even though
Sydney is hated and beyond the pale by many, Lucie offers him kindness, and
warmth, and love. It goes beyond just
doing things. It has so much more to do
with who she is—inviting and loving and true.
Carton is brilliant . . . but there is something deeper she seems to
understand about life. When Carton sees
Lucie hurting and sobbing over her soon-to-be-executed husband, Sydney Carton
recognizes that a love he has known through her now calls him to great
risk.
Using his skills as an orator, Carton negotiates himself
into the prison cell of Darnay and tricks him into changing clothes with
him. After changing clothes, he drugs
Darnay so that the young man will not argue or protest. Thus, Darnay leaves the prison free to be
with his life, the light of so many lives, Lucie. Sydney Carton leaves with the rest of the
prisoners to the guillotine. In that
moment, Dickens gives him the immortal words at the end of A Tale of Two
Cities, words that transcend the violence found all around them, “It is a
far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better
rest that I go to than I have ever known.”
Once we are loved, we are free to risk great things: to not find our wealth in our material things
but to sell possessions and give alms to the poor, that our purse or wallet may
concern itself with the things of God, to act outside the violence of a violent
world. For if I know that God cares
about the dwindling hairs on my head, that now seem to be found growing out my
ears . . . if we know that God cares for our daily needs even as God cares for
the daily feeding of ravens, hopefully chocolate is involved; and if God looks
at the wildflowers and sees such beauty, how much, even more so, God will look
at us and say, “You beauties!”
Would that still our anxious voices just enough to risk
something great for God, our neighbor, and this good earth. You . . . are loved. God cares for your daily needs. And God finds you insanely, naturally,
spectacularly beautiful. Risk
accordingly. Amen.
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