Archive for April, 2009

OF BOUNDARIES AND BLESSINGS

Monday, April 6th, 2009 by mswora

EXCLUSIVE IDEALS, INCLUSIVE LOVE

I Cor. 6:12 “I have the right to do anything,” you say—but not everything is beneficial. “I have the right to do anything”—but I will not be mastered by anything. 13 You say, “Food for the stomach and the stomach for food, and God will destroy them both.” The body, however, is not meant for sexual immorality but for the Lord, and the Lord for the body. 14 By his power God raised the Lord from the dead, and he will raise us also. 15 Do you not know that your bodies are members of Christ himself? Shall I then take the members of Christ and unite them with a prostitute? Never! 16 Do you not know that he who unites himself with a prostitute is one with her in body? For it is said, “The two will become one flesh.” 17 But whoever is united with the Lord is one with him in spirit.     18 Flee from sexual immorality. All other sins people commit are outside their bodies, but those who sin sexually sin against their own bodies. 19 Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; 20 you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your bodies.

For any who might ask, “Why is he preaching on that passage?” I say, “It was one of four recommended passages in the lectionary Bible schedule for one Sunday this month.” And if you should ask, “Why that one when there were three other passages, none of them having to do with the very delicate, controversial and personal subject of sex?” believe me, I asked myself that question, too. And so you almost had a sermon today on something non-controversial, like “always do the right thing.”

And then I thought to myself, “Coward! Haven’t some of your most fruitful messages been on the passages you wanted most to run away from, the ones you had to approach with fear and trembling, as a fellow sinner and struggler along with your audience, to be equally judged and inspired with them, with no temptation to speak like some learned master lecturing down from on high?” If such messages were not fruitful for others, at least they were for me.

And then I remembered what Martin Luther said: “If I am not preaching the gospel precisely where it is most under attack and contention, then I am not really preaching the gospel.” That sealed it for me. He should carry some authority in this sanctuary, don’t you think?

For the gospel is always preached under controversy, in every generation and culture. And this is a gospel message. For one thing, in the marriage bond, in conjugal relations, and in parenthood, we see a powerful demonstration of God and of God’s utterly self-giving love, to the point where the relationship between Christ and the church is likened to marriage. Secondly, the gospel comes to us as an offering of peace with God, and from God. But it is a peace that we enjoy only as much as we surrender our selves, spirit, soul and body, to God. If what today’s Bible text says about love, sex and marriage seems harsh, restrictive and repressive, or if it seems freeing, loving and liberating, will depend upon the degree to which we are surrendering ourselves to God as Lord of our bodies, as well as of our souls and spirits. As Paul says in this passage, “The body is for the Lord, and the Lord for the body.” He goes on to say: “You are not your own; you have been bought with a price; therefore, glorify God in your bodies.”

Thirdly, this is a gospel message, because there is a growing tendency in our culture to discount and dismiss all moral and spiritual boundaries, especially in matters of sex, love and marriage, as infantile, oppressive and exclusive, to even call into question whether there even is any such thing as sin, evil, or any reason for guilt. Our task, I am increasingly told, is simply to affirm, approve and even celebrate the whole open-ended, infinite variety and diversity of sexual desires, behaviors and expressions in this world, even in the church. Therefore, the only evil thing we can ever do is to not approve or affirm them all. Or to set boundaries to them. Therefore, the gospel offer of forgiveness and the transformation of our lives is not only unnecessary, some tell me that it is judgmental, divisive and exclusive.

Now, these critics are right when they take us to task for so often starting out our words on sex with lists of dont’s and dangers and disasters, as though we were talking about toxic waste, instead of the God-ordained delight and desire by which we all came into this world. Our words and thoughts on this matter should always convey more delight and gratitude than fear or grief. And if we would exclude any person from our love, or from the love of God, there’s another valid criticism.

But there, I have just uttered an ideal, the ideal of indiscriminate love for all persons. And the ideal that we can embrace all persons even while we can’t embrace all values and actions. Those ideals logically exclude a lot of other ideals. Ideals are exclusive things by their very nature. To exclude competing ideals is to set boundaries. To apologize or repent of the way in which some ideals exclude other ideals would be like apologizing for, or repenting of, gravity, logic or geometry.

But ideals are always directions toward which we strive, not destinations at which we arrive. Oh dear, did I just reveal that I am the only one who has never achieved his ideals? On this planet, there is always a distance between the real and the ideal. In the struggle of growth in which we journey from the real toward the ideal, a lot of love is needed. And forgiveness.

But in probably every society in which the gospel has been preached, it has engendered controversy and contention over matters of sex and sexuality, because the Bible has such very high ideals about sex. Those high ideals are often interpreted as contempt or fear of bodies, love and sex, which they are not meant to be. But sadly enough, many Christians have exhibited plenty of such contempt and fear about bodies, love and sex.

But I can understand where that fear is coming from, even if I disapprove of it. The blessings that God intended are so so great, that the damage we can do outside of God’s ideals can be equally great. So we get a sort of constant swing of the pendulum back-and-forth from a prudish, puritanical hostility toward bodies and sex, and women, since they bear and deliver babies, and a wild, loose, libertine anything goes mentality, sometimes within the same person, in the same lifetime, sometimes among people in the same generation, and often between generations. Its no accident that the generation that came of age in the 1920’s could be so wild compared to their usually uptight Victorian era parents. That may have been in reaction to them. Nor is it an accident that, thirty or forty years later, in TV shows, married couples were shown having separate beds. There was a lot of controversy when Lucille Ball, on the TV show, I Love Lucy, was pregnant. That may have been in reaction to the excesses of the previous generation.

Today we’re going through the opposite swing of the pendulum. Sometimes, though, in the same generation, people square off at different ends of the pendulum swing, and derive their values on reacting against each other. Probably like the members of the First Century church at Corinth, to which Paul was writing these words. Reading the whole letter, I get the sense that Paul is writing to a very conflicted church, in which people at the extremes were reacting against each other and pushing each other toward greater extremes. In the letter you’ll see that Paul is answering questions and countering ideas from people on both ends of the spectrum: prudes and puritans who say, “Its good for a man not to touch a woman,” and loose-living libertines who said, “All things are permissible to me.”

Oddly enough, as different as they are from each other, they’re starting from the same place. They end up at different points, but they both start from that ancient Greek mindset that says that to be spiritual is to escape from the material world and from one’s body and all its desires and drives into some disembodied spiritual existence in heaven. They tended to see the material, physical world as evil beyond redemption, while the spiritual world was supposed to be immaterial, like radio waves or wireless technology. Paul quotes them as saying, “Food for the stomach and the stomach for food, and God will destroy both.” So either you learn to live now as though you had no body, no desires and no needs, like those allegedly Christian crackpots in the Third and Fourth Century who spent years living alone at the top of tall posts to show how spiritual and unworldly they had become, or you live now in wild and merry abandonment, indulging all your whims, because whatever you do with this body doesn’t matter; God will liberate you from it soon.

Not so fast, says Paul. “The body,” Paul says, “ is not meant for sexual immorality but for the Lord, and the Lord for the body. By his power God raised the Lord from the dead, and he will raise us also. Do you not know that your bodies are members of Christ himself?” Paul is thus reminding both the prudes and the libertines that matter matters. God did not destine the material world of flesh and blood and bodies just to be destroyed like some mistake that he regrets. From the very beginning of creation, God called this world of bodies and matter, “good.” God loves it and intends to redeem it, not destroy it. So, God will not liberate us from bodily existence: he will give us eternal, resurrection bodies. Therefore, our bodily actions today have eternal spiritual consequences, for good or bad. That is as true for sex as it is for feeding the poor or tending the sick or building a home with Habitat for Humanity.

Paul goes on to tell the Corinthians that “your bodies are members of Christ.” Christ sent his Spirit into the world so that he might live his life through our bodies, and to redeem them for an eternal resurrection life. So honor God with your bodies, Paul says. For a Hebrew like himself honoring God would mean using the body according to God’s will, to make and share food, to make and share goods and services, and, if so called, to make love and, God willing, to make life. Within God’s guidelines and blessings of course. According to God’s ideals.

That’s what is behind Article 19 in the Confession of Faith in a Mennonite Perspective. You’ll find it in today’s bulletin. We looked at it last Sunday in our Senior High Sunday School Faith Exploration Class. Every article in the Confession of Faith not only guides us in matters of faith and action, they give me guidelines for pastoral practice. It reads: “We believe that God intends marriage to be a covenant between one man and one woman for life. Christian marriage is a mutual relationship in Christ, a covenant made in the context of the church. According to Scripture, right sexual union takes place only within the marriage relationship. Marriage is meant for sexual intimacy, companionship, and the birth and nurture of children.”

Those, I believe, are the ideals under which our sexuality is most blessed by God. They make sense from a Hebrew, Old Testament point of view that says that when God made his material, physical creation, he pronounced it good. But they also imply a New Testament sense for the resurrection and redemption of the body, beginning with Jesus’ body. They also assume a sense for the God of both covenants as a living, faithful, covenanting, relational God. And finally, living it requires that we are surrendered to God and that we desire to honor God with our bodies, and not just indulge our appetites. But there’s no promise made that doing so will always be easy or automatic. Yet anything outside of that, Paul tells us to flee.

If we are to flee immorality, then we need to know the ideals toward which to head. First: This statement calls us to reserve sexual expression with others for the context of a lifelong commitment and covenant, which we call marriage, because anything short of “lifelong” means, as Paul says, the painful rupture of what has become, through sexual activity, one flesh. Unless our partner has publicly promised to be there for us, not just tomorrow morning, but next year at 2 AM if a baby awakes, and at age 97 when we don’t look so “hot” anymore, sexual activity is heading us toward a painful spiritual amputation, rather than toward a delightful spiritual union.

Secondly, it calls this lifelong covenant “mutual,” in the sense of an equal and mutually respectful and dignified relationship, one of equal power and worth for both partners, because humans, male and female, were all created of equal worth, and are redeemed for relationships of equal worth. Yes, some biblical laws and stories represent the lower social power that women had, and too often still have, in the world. But that was a result of our fall into sin. With Jesus, we can live a new, redeemed reality. Besides, the trajectory of the biblical witness challenges and undermines that history of female subjugation.

Thirdly, the statement also blesses marriage between just two partners, because of their equal value in God’s sight. Having more than one wife or husband implies and symbolizes that one gender is worth more than the other. Yes, some of the patriarchs of the Old Testament had multiple wives. But in every case, their family histories were disasters. They were poster children for monogamy in reverse. Polygamy was also a result of the fall. But in Christ, the marriage covenant becomes a picture of the covenant between One Savior and One church.

Fourth, the confession also reserves the blessing of marriage for “one man and one woman.” Maleness and femaleness are both equal and complementary parts of the image of God, for we read, “in the image of God he created man, male and female.” Thus the first marriage was a union, or re-union– of the two parts of God’s image in humanity that were separated when God formed Eve from Adam: maleness and femaleness. Through the sacred fire of sexuality, it can be said that two parts of God’s nature desire and delight in each other upon their reunion. With the fall into sin, however, there is a painful rupture of the two aspects of God’s image in us, maleness and femaleness, which marriage is called to reconcile. If we are called to seek and model the peace of God, that must include peace between the sexes. Working toward the reconciliation of that ruptured relationship is difficult but crucial work.

Finally, our confession says, Christian marriage is a mutual relationship in Christ, a covenant made in the context of the church. For it to be a Christian marriage, there must be the commitment on someone’s part to a spiritual basis to that marriage, so that the sexual bond is at the service of the spiritual bond, and not the other way around. Otherwise what will sustain the covenant and the commitment when, for reasons of health or other forces beyond our control, sexual expression is not possible? This amazing power is given us to sustain and create life. But not just biological life. Also life in the form of mission, ministry, service, hospitality and prayer together. Among Protestants and Anabaptists, some of their most effective mission and ministry work has been done by married couples whose every aspect of their relationship was a living demonstration of the gospel.

Now I admit: those are uniquely Christian and Biblical ideas about marriage and sex. We cannot and must not legislate them on others and impose them by force. We must accept the cost, that they always get the church into hot water with every society over at least one of those ideals, if not more. Where we lived in West Africa, some people objected to the Christian and biblical ideals of monogamy and equality between and women.

In the time of Paul, these ideals sometimes led to persecution of the church. In the pagan Greek and Roman mindset of the time, slave-owners had full legal rights to the bodies and services of any of their slaves, of either gender, for work or pleasure. We have histories of the martyrdom and punishment of some Christian slaves whose faith was discovered because they refused the sexual demands of their masters.

Today, in this society, it is the biblical weight on behalf chastity outside of marriage, and on heterosexual unions that many people find offensive or exclusive. I understand: none of us asked to be tempted as we are. Very few people ever chose to have same sex desires. On that particular matter, I empathize with all who feel same sex desires, some overwhelmingly, some occasionally. I know them as beloved friends and relatives, as do many of you. But I submit to the Mennonite Confession of Faith that does not permit me to perform a same sex wedding, because any ministry I do relating to marriage must aim at the ideals I have just mentioned. To me, all these ideals are mutually reinforcing. I fail yet to see how I can surrender one and keep the others. Furthermore, I am under oath as a pastor to support all who are seeking to be chaste and obedient to God in every aspect of their lives, whatever their desires and struggles. And they require of me the same loyalty to biblical authority and to our Confession of Faith that undergirds my commitment to peace, anti-racism and economic justice. No, I don’t have the final answer on how to respond pastorally to same sex desires and relationships. But I find very little that is helpful from either the extremes of law without love, or love without law.

I can live, work and worship respectfully with Christians who disagree with me about how to respond to homosexuality. No doubt they are thinking about the pain and exclusion that people with same sex desires feel. That bothers me too. I can also live respectfully and peacefully in a society in which same sex marriages are legally recognized. I think that will eventually be the case here. But until I can see how I might relinquish one ideal without undercutting the others, I simply will not perform or celebrate any weddings where the marriage would not and could not grow toward godly ideals for marriage.

But just because a marriage matches one of those ideals, such as heterosexuality, does not automatically mean that it is closer to God’s ideal than one that violates other ideals. Not if that marriage lacks respect, or monogamous faithfulness, or a life time commitment. So we have no right to look down our noses at other people and other relationships. At various points and times, we all fall short of the ideal. Increasingly, the church is being left holding the bag for an exclusively Christian understanding of sex and marriage. And that is how it should be.

Yes, the other side of these ideals is those boundaries that some people love to hate. But here’s something every civil engineer and architect knows: that boundaries can actually increase our freedom. Take away all the lane dividers, all the traffic lights, all the stop signs, and the curbs between streets and sidewalks, and no one is going anywhere. Or design a children’s playground in which there is no appropriate distance or no barrier between the slide or the sandbox and a busy street, and children will be too afraid to play, or very restricted in their play.

In the genetic memory of our race is the memory and the longing for that first playground of Eden, literal or symbolic, in which there was a maximum of innocence and freedom, with only one boundary. The breaking of that boundary resulted in less freedom and the need for more boundaries. But life according to the ideals of which I have just spoken is the closest we can come back to the innocence of the Garden.

And yet the stern-faced angel still stands at the gate of Paradise with the flaming sword barring us from re-entry. For many of us, maybe all of us, on that sword are inscribed the memories of our own failings and shortcomings, including those in the area of sex and marriage. I don’t have to tell us, for example, that pornography is one of the largest global industries, right up there with drugs, prostitution and weapons. We don’t have to go looking for it; it comes looking for us.

As the casualties of today’s sexual revolution pile up, some will come limping into the church, I hope. But I also fear that the pendulum will swing in the other direction, back toward the fear and contempt of bodies and sex. And that will be unhealthy, too. To avoid either extreme, the task before us is three-fold: 1) to keep ourselves surrendered to God and moving toward godly ideals; and 2) to welcome and give thanks for all the gifts of God and to enjoy them according to the ideals and, yes, the boundaries, God has given. That way lies freedom and the closest we can come to our original innocence. And thirdly, to be prepared for hospitality and ministry to all who have been wounded in this vital part of life.

My experience tells me that rebels against all boundaries can be as fearful and angry as are the prudish and puritanical. I can understand why: Where do you go when there’s no direction in which to strive? How does one heal when what doesn’t matter still hurts? How can you be safe if your neighbor has no boundaries either? To such ones I say: Look again at these boundaries and ideals. In them are some things you may want some day: forgiveness, healing and the chance to begin anew. From eleven years of serving and getting to know this congregation, I can also, without reservation, offer you friends who will not turn away from anyone in fear or hatred, whatever the temptations, the history or the issues you bring. In the right setting among us, anyone can find support, encouragement and accountability from someone among all the fellow strugglers here, to help you on that journey from the real toward God’s ideal. Because of human nature, every saint has a past. Because of God’s nature, every sinner has a future. That, this morning, is the gospel.

AN “EXTREMISM OF LOVE”

Monday, April 6th, 2009 by mswora

THOUGHTS FOR MARTIN LUTHER KING, JR. DAY, 2009

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Should a wrong turn down an unfamiliar side street lead you to a dead end, there’s nothing remarkable about that. But when the road back turns out to be a dead end as well, along with any side streets, this may be no ordinary road you have taken. It may well be that you have entered… (for those of you who remember the show) the twilight zone.

Science fiction from a television show, long ago? More like current events. In Gaza and Israel, in Sudan and Darfur. Moving forward with the same old same old, with more of eye for an eye, or make that a head for an eye, is getting people nowhere but further down a blind alley. But with decades and even centuries’ worth of hurt and pain and scores to settle, there’s no going back as though nothing happened.

How does one forgive when it is impossible to forget? Where does anyone go when there’s no going forward, and yet there’s no going backward either, once a dead end has become a box with no exit? As in Israel and Gaza today, where extremists in Hamas are locked in mortal combat with extremists in Israel. Those who fire rockets at Israeli schools and homes, and who blow themselves up on Israeli buses, are easy to recognize as extremists. But just because someone wears a uniform and carries out the official policy of a recognized government does not mean that they are innocent of extremism either. I don’t know what else to call the invasion of Gaza, or the genocide in Darfur, or the targeting civilians with nuclear weapons, but extremism as state policy.

There was a television special a few weeks ago about religion and violence. A scholar on it said something that made sense to me: that the biggest, most transforming spiritual breakthroughs have happened in such moments of deadlock, when people got a God’s eye view of their propensity for violence, and for the predicaments it had gotten them into, and when they looked desperately for a new way out when there was no way forward or backward. The only way left was to look upward, for help, and inward, to name and to claim their own responsibility for their part in turning a dead-end into a box.

Some would say that this is what gave Islam its power, when Mohammed achieved something that most people in 7th Century Arabia thought was impossible: stopping the cycle of feuding and honor killings that for centuries had set the tribes of Arabia against each other, and uniting them into a powerful force. Of course, their neighbors weren’t always thrilled that their aggression got turned outward, against them.

Israel’s most formative early moments were also breakthroughs to reconciliation, as when Jacob, his family and servants, were caught between his uncle Laban to the east, and his brother Esau to the west. Jacob and all his flocks and people could not stay with Laban, because they were too many. War was threatening to break out over the competition for grazing lands and water holes. Going west toward his brother Esau was his least bad option. Esau, whom Jacob had defrauded of his birthright, and his blessing. Esau, whom Jacob had treated with contempt, whom Jacob had left with death threats ringing in his ears. But for his family to survive, Jacob could only go there on Esau’s terms, penitent and disarmed. Seeing his brother the next day, and getting a welcome he knew he did not deserve, Jacob said those powerful, famous words to Esau: “Seeing your face is like seeing the face of God.”

This was a formative event, not only for Jacob, but in the history of Israel. In that moment of reconciliation, God revealed himself to Jacob and to all Israel as a God who works for the reconciliation of the world to himself, and to itself. Israel would always carry this reconciling sense of God in its spiritual DNA.

It would be no surprise then, no departure, no new thing, really, when Jesus would later teach, “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you,” because the God of Jacob had already revealed himself as the God who makes reconciliation possible in even the most hopeless of conflicts, and as the God who may even make himself known through our adversaries, our enemies, our critics and our victims.

Which has gotten me to wondering about Israel and Gaza: how did their two faiths, born as they were in the fires of forgiveness, become deadlocked into a self-accelerating grudge match? And what would the transforming spiritual breakthrough for Israel and Gaza, the Israelis and the Arabs, look like? Then it occurred to me: Duh! It has come already. It was Jesus and the kingdom of God.

Jesus served notice to this very effect through his inaugural sermon in Nazareth: that a breakthrough of reconciliation with their hated Gentile neighbors was about to happen in Israel. Back home after his first forays into public ministry, Jesus reads from the scroll of Isaiah, the 61st chapter: “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me…to preach good news to the poor, to set free the prisoners, to restore sight to the blind….to proclaim the year of God’s favor…” In short, God is about to usher in the promised, prophesied, world-reconciling kingdom of God. When he went on to say, “This day is this passage fulfilled in your presence,” he was saying, in effect, “And I am the one who will usher it in.”

Today many would call Jesus’ provocative statement, in that Nazarean synagogue, “extremist.” It was indeed an extreme claim to his lordship and to our loyalty, the kind of claim that makes the world duck for cover, fearing that suicide bombing is next, or a rocket propelled grenade.

Yet the initial response that Jesus gets is favorable. They’ve heard about his wonder-working ministry, his authoritative teaching, and his power over evil spirits. They have probably even heard other sermons like this, in which other people also said, “The kingdom of God is now here.” Maybe even from other preachers and leaders, who said, “And I am the one to usher it all in.” We know of several warriors and preachers in First Century Palestine who claimed in one way or another to be the Messiah, or at least to be ushering in his kingdom.

But that claim was always followed by the next one: that Israel’s humiliation will be avenged, that Rome will be to Jerusalem what Jerusalem now is to Rome, and any Gentile who gets in the way will wind up as buzzard bait. But not Jesus. He confronts this expectation head on when he goes on to say, “No doubt you will quote me this proverb: ‘Physician, heal yourself.’”

Which always struck me as a strange thing to say to his home town relatives and neighbors. Why, “Physician, heal yourself?” Isn’t that like, “Walk the walk before you talk the talk?” Or “Clean up your own act before you start pointing fingers?” Or “take the log out of your own eye before you take the speck out of your neighbor’s?” What does that have to do with anything, especially since we’ve just read that the people of Nazareth approve of him and his teaching?

I think what the proverb really means is not, “Clean up your own act before you clean up ours,” but something more like, “Possession is nine tenths of the law, and relations are the other tenth.” Or “What’s mine is mine.” “The medicine is only for the physician.” Just like God’s kingdom and the Messiah is for us alone.

But Jesus goes on to say, “Remember when that drought and famine struck the land during the ministry of Elijah? And he made oil and grain to replenish itself for the widow of Zarephath, who hosted him? And only for her? She was a Gentile, by the way.”

“And when Israel was at war with Syria, and yet the Syrian army commander, Naaman, came to Israel looking to be healed of leprosy by the prophet Elisha? There were plenty of lepers in Israel wanting to be healed at that time, but only Naaman was. And by the way, he was a Gentile, too.”

Yes, we are God’s physicians, Jesus is saying, with the medicine of God’s kingdom in our medicine chest. But its not for us alone. Prepare to share. With your adversaries. Talk about extremism: Jesus has just confronted them, their attitudes and their assumptions, with all the subtlety and finesse of an oncoming Mack truck.

And that’s why the home crowd suddenly soured on Jesus worse than the Metrodome crowd ever did for Coach Childress and the Vikings. Sharing God’s kingdom with the Gentiles was the last thing on their mind. Especially after all they had suffered at Gentile hands. Rome had its own form of official state imperial terrorism and extremism. That’s why they suddenly went from applauding to appalled; that’s why all of a sudden they rushed him to the top of the hill to pitch him off a cliff. Jesus touched a raw nerve of anger and hurt that had long festered into racism, tribalism, bigotry and a zeal for vengeance. Like with Hamas and Israel today. They were too reactionary to recognize that, with Jesus, God was providing a way out of the dead end that had become a box with no exit. Another word for such boxes is “coffins.”

Which makes you wonder again: How is it that a faith that was formed by breakthroughs of reconciliation could become, at that moment, such a hateful and exclusive club? How is it that the faith of Jacob could become the fuel for the kind of extremism and terrorism that Jesus experienced? How is it that the descendants of Jacob could become a lynch mob, ready to kill one of their very own?

That’s what Martin Luther King, Jr., wondered about in his famous Letter from a Birmingham Jail. Here’s the story behind that letter: When Dr. King was arrested in Birmingham, Alabama, in 1963, and put in solitary confinement, he had a lot of time on his hands. Someone managed to smuggle into him a local newspaper. In that paper Dr. King read a full page ad taken out by the local ministerial association of Birmingham, Alabama. It spoke to the recent demonstrations that Dr. King had help to lead and organize against the segregation of schools, businesses and public facilities in Birmingham. In that full page ad, the local body of ministers, from most mainline denominations, said something to the effect of, “We’re with you, Dr. King and all you marchers and demonstrators, in the goals you wish to achieve. But not with the means you use. They are, in a word, extremist. Cool it. Be more patient, wait, negotiate, and integration and equality will eventually come in their own good time.

Fortunately, someone had also smuggled in a pen. With that pen, in the margins of that same newspaper, King wrote the classic, “Letter from a Birmingham Jail.” In it he dealt with the criticisms I just mentioned, such as that of being extremist.

What really seemed to break Martin’s heart was that these critiques came from fellow clergy in his beloved Christian church. He wrote to his fellow clergy: “I have traveled the length and breadth of Alabama, Mississippi and all the other southern states. On sweltering summer days and crisp autumn mornings I have looked at the South’s beautiful churches with their lofty spires pointing heavenward. I have beheld the impressive outlines of her massive religious education buildings. Over and over I have found myself asking: “What kind of people worship here? Who is their God? Where were their voices when the lips of Governor Barnett dripped with words of interposition and nullification? Where were they when Governor Wallace gave a clarion call for defiance and hatred? Where were their voices of support when bruised and weary Negro men and women decided to rise from the dark dungeons of complacency to the bright hills of creative protest?

“Yes, these questions are still in my mind. In deep disappointment I have wept over the laxity of the church. But be assured that my tears have been tears of love. There can be no deep disappointment where there is not deep love. Yes, I love the church…..” King went on to say: “There was a time when the church was very powerful–in the time when the early Christians rejoiced at being deemed worthy to suffer for what they believed. In those days the church was not merely a thermometer that recorded the ideas and principles of popular opinion; it was a thermostat that transformed the mores of society. Whenever the early Christians entered a town, the people in power became disturbed and immediately sought to convict the Christians for being “disturbers of the peace” and “outside agitators.”‘ But the Christians pressed on, in the conviction that they were “a colony of heaven,” called to obey God rather than man. Small in number, they were big in commitment. They were too God-intoxicated to be “astronomically intimidated.” By their effort and example they brought an end to such ancient evils as infanticide and gladiatorial contests. Things are different now. So often the contemporary church is a weak, ineffectual voice with an uncertain sound. So often it is an archdefender of the status quo. Far from being disturbed by the presence of the church, the power structure of the average community is consoled by the church’s silent–and often even vocal–sanction of things as they are.”

Disturbing words, these. Dr. King’s question, What happened that the church became so domesticated to an unjust social order? is similar to the one I just posed: How did a faith that was forged in miraculous breakthroughs to reconciliation between previously implacable enemies become a cheering squad for bigotry and tribalism?

To those who labeled King, his movement and his methods “extremist,” King said, If its extremism you’re concerned about, let’s talk about fire hoses being turned on unarmed citizens who were exercising their right to free speech and freedom of assembly. If its extremism you’re concerned about, what do you call police dogs lunging at the bodies of young children and their grandparents?

King went on to write: “But though I was initially disappointed at being categorized as an extremist, as I continued to think about the matter I gradually gained a measure of satisfaction from the label. Was not Jesus an extremist for love: “Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you.” Was not Amos an extremist for justice: “Let justice roll down like waters and righteousness like an ever flowing stream.” Was not Paul an extremist for the Christian gospel: “I bear in my body the marks of the Lord Jesus.” Was not Martin Luther an extremist: “Here I stand; I cannot do otherwise, so help me God.” And John Bunyan: “I will stay in jail to the end of my days before I make a butchery of my conscience.” And Abraham Lincoln: “This nation cannot survive half slave and half free.” And Thomas Jefferson: “We hold these truths to be self evident, that all men are created equal . . .” So the question is not whether we will be extremists, but what kind of extremists we will be. Will we be extremists for hate or for love? Will we be extremists for the preservation of injustice or for the extension of justice? In that dramatic scene on Calvary’s hill three men were crucified. We must never forget that all three were crucified for the same crime–the crime of extremism. Two were extremists for immorality, and thus fell below their environment. The other, Jesus Christ, was an extremist for love, truth and goodness, and thereby rose above his environment. Perhaps the South, the nation and the world are in dire need of creative extremists.”

And with that brilliant insight, Dr. King turns the table on us in a way not unlike that of Jesus, when he told his hometown friends and family that the kingdom of
God has come, but that he and his kingdom are not their exclusive property or privilege.

They both turn the table on us and ask, not How might we avoid extremism? or How might we deal with extremists? but What kind of extremists will we be?

If we were looking for salvation from extremism in a polite, post-modern, relativistic luke warm tolerance whose gospel is to say that everything is equally true, that everything is finally one, and therefore the details of our differing beliefs and faiths and values don’t matter, neither Jesus nor Dr. Martin Luther King give us that option. To those who fear that any serious, exclusive commitment to one faith or one set of values constitutes extremism and is therefore setting the stage for suicide bombs and tank shells, both King and Jesus counter with a call to an extremism of love that says that I will prove my commitment to my faith not by my readiness to kill you who disagree with me, but by my readiness to die for you, whether you agree with me or not. A kind of loving extremism that can honestly admit, “Even if our values and beliefs cannot be reconciled to each other, we can be reconciled to each other.”

Besides, anything short of this extremist commitment to love—not just tolerance, but love– will never stand up against the brutal secular faiths of nationalism, militarism, fascism, racism, or the worship of wealth. It wouldn’t even recognize them for what they are: extremist religions as well, only under the guise of respectability and popularity. In spite of their secular costumes, they demand as many human sacrifices as did the Inquisition or the Crusades, or jihadist terrorists today. And finally, such a luke-warm, relativistic faith would never give people the power to forgive, when it is impossible to forget. That, I propose, is the ultimate test of our commitment to Christ and his kingdom: when the boxes we get into can be broken open and transformed into open highways; when we can forgive and be forgiven, even when we cannot forget.

That includes forgiving ourselves.

It has happened before. Within five years of delivering his home town inaugural sermon, the kingdom movement that Jesus started had claimed its first convert from among the Gentiles, and, all the more hard to believe, from within the ranks of the Roman Army: Peter’s friend and disciple, Cornelius.

When Dr. King penned his Letter From a Birmingham Jail in the margins of that newspaper, within my living memory, the racial situation in America seemed nearly as bleak then as does the relationship between Israel and Gaza today. Yet in only a few days, our first African-American president will be inaugurated. Yes, the church broke Dr. King’s heart with its foot-dragging and its fearful conformity. And yet King’s own movement was based in Jesus’ mission, birthed by the church, and fueled by the same reconciling love that brought Peter and the first gentile convert, Cornelius, together.

So, lets not despair of any miracles of forgiveness. Our God can still work miracles of reconciliation, when we look upward for help, and inward to name and claim our own responsibility for getting ourselves into dead ends that have become boxes without exits.

You know, I have often marveled at how Jesus’ friends and family got so far as to be able to trundle him up to the top of the cliff, only to watch him turn and walk out from among their midst unharmed. They did not part to let him pass because on the way there he converted them to a polite apathy and indifference about all things religious, but because the fire of divine love in his heart was hotter than the fires of hatred in theirs. He met brute force and overcame it with the same kind of loving, righteous force that struck a police officer in Birmingham, in the course of those same demonstrations that landed Dr. King in jail. This officer was escorting nonviolent civil rights protesters into a police van, to take them to jail. As they filed into the van, their hands cuffed together, singing hymns, the police officer looked at them and said, with tears in his eyes, “You are better people than I am.” There you see demonstrated the power of that creative and life-giving extremism of love that Dr. King called for. The world also saw it in that synagogue in Nazareth, and on that cliff top long ago.

OUR MISSION FOCUS FOR 2009:

Monday, April 6th, 2009 by mswora

SEEK THE PEACE AND PROSPERITY OF THE CITY TO WHICH I HAVE CALLED YOU (Jer. 29.7)

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The following is a story from the Bible. But it could be the story of everyone here. Anyone, for example, who remembers a place, in your childhood perhaps, where you felt very much at home, at one, and at peace with God, the world and humanity. Take a minute to think of that time and place. Is it where where you live right now? If so, good for you. But you’re in the minority. My place is still there, but its closed to fishing until the last weekend in March. For others among us, it may be halfway around the world. And for others, it may have been paved over to become a Sam’s Club.

If we know what its like to feel restlessness, homelessness, and the fear or pain of not belonging, then that gives us a handle by which to understand today’s Bible passage. Its a letter which the prophet Jeremiah wrote from his imprisonment in Jerusalem, to the first group of captive, exile Jews living to the east, in Babylon, in the region of what is now Iraq and Iran. Over the course of his lifetime, Jeremiah would see three defeats and deportations of fellow Jews to the east, by their Babylonian overlords. The last one was the biggest and most destructive. And oddly enough, Jeremiah would want to go with them. But he was held captive in Jerusalem by certain desperate, to-the-bitter-end hyper-nationalist super-patriots who insisted that God would never let a foreign enemy take Jerusalem or the temple and disperse God’s people. And they had their false prophets who kept promising and prophesying as much.

But Jeremiah was given by God to see the unthinkable: that Zion would be destroyed, its people exiled, and the Temple would be flattened. Yes, the place where they felt most at home, God’s footstool on earth, where the glory of God shone over the mercy seat and the ark of the covenant, where the smoke of sacrifice ascended to heaven, and the blessings of God descended to earth.

But the shining glory of God had long been absent from the temple. Could it have something to do with the idols of other nations that they had placed there? Or maybe that people had offered the right sacrifices and prayers even while they exploited the poor and refused to release the slaves and forgive the debts and restore the land in their appointed years? In fact, while the Babylonian army was besieging Jerusalem, King Zedekiah had ordered all slaves released according to the sabbath year regulation. And within weeks they were re-enslaved. To which God said, through Jeremiah, “And so I shall release you to the sword, to captivity and to disaster.”

But through the unthinkable, Jeremiah saw a glimmer of hope. Not to avoid the exile or save the temple. Too late for that. It was as good as done. He saw instead a glimmer of hope through the exile and beyond it. And so, from his captivity in Jerusalem, Jeremiah wrote the following letter to the first batch of fellow Jews already in Babylon:

Jeremiah 29: 1”This is the text of the letter that the prophet Jeremiah sent from Jerusalem to the surviving elders among the exiles and to the priests, the prophets and all the other people Nebuchadnezzar had carried into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon. 2 (This was after King Jehoiachin [a] and the queen mother, the court officials and the leaders of Judah and Jerusalem, the craftsmen and the artisans had gone into exile from Jerusalem.) 3 He entrusted the letter to Elasah son of Shaphan and to Gemariah son of Hilkiah, whom Zedekiah king of Judah sent to King Nebuchadnezzar in Babylon. It said:  4 This is what the LORD Almighty, the God of Israel, says to all those I carried into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon: 5 “Build houses and settle down; plant gardens and eat what they produce. 6 Marry and have sons and daughters; find wives for your sons and give your daughters in marriage, so that they too may have sons and daughters. Increase in number there; do not decrease. 7 Also, seek the peace and prosperity of the city to which I have carried you into exile. Pray to the LORD for it, because if it prospers, you too will prosper.” 8 Yes, this is what the LORD Almighty, the God of Israel, says: “Do not let the prophets and diviners among you deceive you. Do not listen to the dreams you encourage them to have. 9 They are prophesying lies to you in my name. I have not sent them,” declares the LORD.  10 This is what the LORD says: “When seventy years are completed for Babylon, I will come to you and fulfill my gracious promise to bring you back to this place. 11 For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. 12 Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. 13 You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. 14 I will be found by you,” declares the LORD, “and will bring you back from captivity. I will gather you from all the nations and places where I have banished you,” declares the LORD, “and will bring you back to the place from which I carried you into exile.”

Seventy years later, God made good on his promise to return his people to Judah. There they built another temple. But those were still seventy hard years of exile. Seventy years of being second and third class citizens, seventy years worth of living with the stigma of defeat and the confusion of wondering, if God is God and if God is for us, then why did this happen? Their pain and confusion is powerfully expressed in Psalm 137:

1 By the rivers of Babylon we sat and wept when we remembered Zion.  2 There on the poplars we hung our harps, 3 for there our captors asked us for songs, our tormentors demanded songs of joy; they said, “Sing us one of the songs of Zion!”  4 How can we sing the songs of the LORD while in a foreign land?”

“How can we sing the Lord’s songs in a foreign land?” That sums up seventy painful years of profound spiritual dislocation. Where many of our children and grandchildren forsake their Hebrew heritage and blend in with the culture and religion of our captors? Where every day we are distressed and offended by the imperial civil religion, with its cruel and gaudy golden idols, so visible and worshiped in their temples everywhere, in which unspeakably lewd rituals are acted out, sometimes even human sacrifice? Where our new neighbors say they are distressed and offended by our refusal to blend in and to join in their idolatry, by our refusal to worship their divine kings, so-called, by our faith in one god whom they claim to have defeated when they destroyed his temple?

We have evidence of all these heartaches and conflicts in the Bible books that come from the time of exile, such as Daniel and Esther. Those were seventy very hard years, in which they clung only to hope and to a memory. Psalm 137 goes on to say: “If I forget you, O Jerusalem, may my right hand forget its skill. May my tongue cling to the roof of my mouth if I do not remember you, if I do not consider Jerusalem my highest joy.”

And yet those were also fruitful years. For the exiles and their children who came back seventy years later, their flirtation with idolatry and imperial civil religion was over. Seventy years they’d lived in a place so idolatrous that the very word “Babylon” came to mean idolatry, immorality, arrogance and cruelty on a grand, imperial scale.

Yet it was also for them a time and place of great scholarship and learning. Being confronted with an assertive, confident and triumphant idolatry forced the captive Jews to think hard about their faith, to ask themselves why they should believe when it gained them no land nor honor, and to ask themselves what they had to contribute to their new society. Yes, some gave in to the lure of honor and luxury and crossed over into Babylonian society. But many others remained Hebrew and became part of a growing Jewish community that could survive without a temple, without a priesthood, without ritual sacrifices, even without a country, in effect, with all the things that would make the Jewish people enduring, distinct and fruitful for the past 2000 years that they have been without a temple. And, until recently, without a country.

Out of this scholarship and faithfulness arose wise leaders and servants who made powerful and positive contributions even to pagan Babylonian society, such as Daniel, the king’s counselor, Queen Esther, and her uncle Mordekai. But they made their contributions on God’s terms, sometimes while at odds with the society. But they seem to have cared more for God’s approval than for their society’s approval.

In fact, for centuries, even during the time of Jesus, the Jewish community of Babylon was at least as big as the one in Judah and Galilee, if not bigger. And its rabbis and scholars stood head and shoulders with the ones in Jerusalem. So that after the Romans destroyed Jerusalem and the Second Temple, the Babylonian Jewish community was prepared to take in thousands of refugees and to lead the worldwide Jewish community spiritually, and in scholarship, until half a century ago, when Israel became a nation again.

And that’s what the first group of exiles, who read Jeremiah’s letter, did before the last and the biggest deportation of Jews from Jerusalem. They took Jeremiah’s advice, to “Build houses and settle down; plant gardens and eat what they produce. [to] Marry and have sons and daughters; find wives for your sons and give your daughters in marriage, so that they too may have sons and daughters. [To] Increase in number there; and not to decrease.” When the last and biggest group of deportees arrived, they found there a community of their own already established, with the beginning elements of what would become synagogues, rabbis, the teaching of the Torah, an idol-free alternative kosher economy, the works. It was like coming fresh from Mexico and going to Mercado Central on Lake Street and Bloomington Avenue. Only the snow outside tells you that you’re not back at home. If you haven’t gone there yet for tamales, don’t let anything stop you. Or like going to the Somali coffee shop and grocery on 24th Street South if you’re nostalgic for Mogadishu in its better days.

Now why am I recounting all this history, the story of another people, long ago and far away? One reason is because, for our Jewish friends, the exile has never really been over. In the five hundred years after the exile that the second temple stood, it was empty of the shekinah glory over the ark of the covenant. The ark of the covenant was missing too, with occasional reports that it ended up with Jewish refugees in Ethiopia.

But from a Christian perspective, the glory of God over the mercy seat has returned, but as a person: Jesus of Nazareth. And this glory is now available everywhere on earth in the form of His Holy Spirit, living in us, as “the hope [or downpayment] of glory” to come.

But that doesn’t mean we’re safely home yet. Through Christ, we Gentile believers now join Israel in exile, awaiting the full return of God’s glory to his temple, which temple we now are. And now we know why we can never entirely recreate those childhood moments of at-one-ness with the world or with some special place or person. Because we are exiles awaiting the return to our promised, destined home, when that prayer is answered in full: “Your kingdom come, your will be done on earth, as it is in heaven.”

All of which is an awesome, incredible honor, that we should be made joint-heirs with Jesus and Israel of a kingdom and a home yet to come in all its fullness. And such a glorious hope it is. It can be for us a fruitful time, in which we too make our powerful, positive contributions to the world, but on God’s terms.

Yet exile also carries with it a danger: the danger of estrangement, hostility, a sense of superiority, even of violence. Coming into church today, and any day, I see gang graffiti tagged on houses and buildings. I don’t know the code; I don’t know what it means in detail. But I think it says, in general: “This world may not have much of a place for me, except for jail or in the grave; the high and mighty might not accept me; but me and my gang are making our home here and staking our claim, so watch out any of you in any rival gang.” And thus estrangement and a sense of exile can lead to hostility, sometimes even violence.

But Jeremiah tells all such exiles and deportees from God’s paradise not to give in to the bitterness of exile or homelessness. Just as we’re not to give up their faith and just blend in, morally and spiritually, either. Instead, he says, “Seek the peace and prosperity of the city to which I have called you.” Yes, you’ll be different, and you’ll have to accept that. But don’t let the pain of being different and awkward and ill-at-ease in this world turn into hostility or a sense of superiority. Do instead like Daniel and Esther did, to be genuinely interested in and gracious toward your fellow exiles and strangers, to hold to your hope and witness to it, yes, but also to love and serve the very city and the very people to whom you were brought by forces beyond our control.

And now I’m talking to us, today, and not just about them, 2700 years ago. If someone had told many of us, twenty or thirty years ago, that we would end up in this city, in this sanctuary, at this moment, on this morning, our jaws would have dropped to our knees. But God is not surprised by our being here. His advice to Zion’s exiles, so long ago, applies still to all spiritual exiles today: dare to be different, dare to be who God calls us to be. But don’t let any sense of difference, dislocation and homelessness become a wall of hostility or fear between us and other people—who probably also feel like exiles, I remind us—Turn that sense of difference and exile and spiritual homelessness instead into a doorway or a window onto others, precisely because they probably also feel as out of sorts and out of place as we often do. And do that by actively seeking the peace and well-being of the city to which God has called us.

In about a month or so, in the course of our next annual business meeting, we will vote on a proposal to make this very passage from Jeremiah 29, and these very words, to “seek the peace and well-being of the city to which I have called you,” our theme for preaching and teaching and church life throughout this year. To the church council and me, Jeremiah’s words to the Jewish exiles—even his whole attitude about exile–seem like good advice, in the year after we were exiled—sort of—from one sanctuary and found ourselves here. Of course we have it tons better than our spiritual ancestors in Babylon did 2700 years ago. But nonetheless we may have gone through some feelings of homelessness and dislocation—welcome to planet earth and the human race. And there is more to come. Just finding out where all the lights are in this place, and all the outlets, and where we can park after it snows, are experiences of dislocation and befuddlement. But with time it will get better.

And as we make a home here, at least for worship, ministry and fellowship, our eyes will naturally turn toward the community around us. In it we will find fellow exiles. In fact, more than half the people who live in this Phillips Neighborhood will have moved on within a year of their arrival, that’s how transient it is, as a gateway community for immigrants from other countries, or from outstate Minnesota. The people who stay here the longest have typically been the senior residents of senior towers and nursing homes around us. When they know about us, we’ll probably get invitations to do worship and ministry in some of those locations. But there is some urban homesteading and gentrification happening too, by home-buyers seeking to stay and improve the homes and the neighborhood. They are also seeking “the peace and well-being of the city.” Whatever their reasons, they may appreciate us seeking “the peace and well-being of the city to which God has called us.”

Its not that we’d get sermons on only this one passage every Sunday, all year. But as our theme, it could remind us to approach every Bible passage from the point of view of people who know they’re different, who know that they are called to be different, who accept that they’re different, who even dare to be different, but who turn that difference into a bridge to their neighbors, and not into a wall against them.

For the peace that Jeremiah has in mind is the very peace which he and the other prophets of Israel prayed for and predicted for the entire world. The very word for peace in this passage is the Hebrew word, “Shalom,” which means essentially, the very best that can be, God’s supreme will for us and for creation. When we seek the peace of the city, we are modeling that city which is yet to come, the New Jerusalem. And we are saying to our neighbors, in effect: “I want for you God’s best; most of all, I want for you Jesus, who is our peace; and I will help you and affirm you in taking however much of God’s best you want. If for now it is an education for your children, safety in your streets, a roof over your head, food in the fridge, health for your body, that’s all God’s will too, and I care about you knowing such peace, however much you are willing to reach out for, even if we don’t share Jesus. Yet.” That kind of love alone will mark us as quite different.

In the course of these messages, I hope to help us think about doing like what the recipients of Jeremiah’s letter did, when they set about finding ways to be both faithful to God and positive, constructive and loving toward their neighbors, even to their captors. And when they did so on God’s terms. Expect me to share stories, examples and insights about this community and city, maybe sometimes even from members and leaders of this community and city. And expect an adventure of outreach and of in-gathering, of giving ourselves away and of growing, of sharing and receiving, again, so that we might better seek the peace and prosperity of the city to which God has called us.