Trying Again—Within the Leviathon
The scriptures appointed for today can be found at https://www.lectionarypage.net/YearB_RCL/Epiphany/BEpi3_RCL.html
+++
This is a story of second chances. Of turning around, not before it’s too late, but after the deed is done. It’s a story about us.
It’s a story about God’s call to us. Not to perfect people in no need of redemption, but imperfect.
Imperfect people, who have screwed up, who have screwed up time and time again, until now. Until today.
We repent of the evil that enslaves us. The evil we have done. The evil done on our behalf.
When we say those words, we do so collectively. But, it is the individual mouth of the confessor that puts breath into air and forms a public witness.
Breath into air, like the breath upon the water, new life born of a commitment to repentance.
Because this is a story of second chances. This is a story of opportunity and invitation.
The story of Jonah. Who dwelled in the darkness of a beast, a symbolic leviathan, mythic in nature, with the power to engulf one of us, yet created and subject to the creator. Jonah, who was unwilling to intervene on behalf of Nineveh but who, in the storm, spoke up as a willing sacrifice on behalf of those who sailed the ship. The ship that he had hoped would take him far from God’s call. A distance that God alone could span—for when Jonah was cast into the symbolic death, that death found its meaning within the context of God’s call. Jonah’s new life found its meaning in the unrelenting presence of the divine. Of God, who calls again and again. God who calls us as partners, collaborators, and co-creators, in the redemption of God’s people.
God partners with Jonah. God partners with us. Calling us to intervene on behalf of God’s people. God’s people—our siblings and friends, our neighbors and strangers, our children and our elders.
And so, at last but just in time, Jonah speaks.
It was not too late.
It is never too late to repent of: the evil that enslaves us; the evil we have done; the evil done on our behalf.
It is never too late to turn. To turn towards new life.
If we were a tradition that invited altar calls, this would be the time. I would invite you to consider God’s call and to present yourself at the altar as an offering. To present yourselves, vulnerable, unto the Lord, and to commit publicly to a new life.
If we were in person, you’d be squirming, wondering if I might just do that. Might just ask for your public witness. Would she dare? Do I? You might be casting your eyes around nervously, wondering if some neighbor would make a choice that would compel you to follow. To follow. To follow despite your own nervousness, despite your own hesitations.
To follow and make a public commitment from which there is no turning back.
You would be changed. You would be seen differently. Seen, as one so bold as to do something unexpected and out of line. You’d make people nervous. What will they do next? Folks would talk. They would talk about you and about that time when you stumbled forward towards the altar and fell upon your knees. Head bowed, genuflecting without care for the hardness of the tile beneath your knees.
Genuflecting while everyone stared and wondered, should I join in? Should my knee bend? Should my hand raise?
And, if I do, what next?
In May of 2019, I was invited to such an altar call. I stood with 1500 preachers (mostly Lutherans) at the Festival of Homiletics in Minneapolis, when the Reverend William Barber issued an invitation. An invitation to come forward to the altar and publicly commit ourselves to witness in the public square for God’s justice and love. To come forward to the altar as an offering of ourselves to the work of God in the world. To come forward to the altar, to recommit ourselves to the call we accepted in our baptism, and set our souls to the work of God’s mercy.
I cast about nervously. Stay or go? I hesitated. Do I take my backpack with me? Well, he’s going, they’re going. Should I go too?
What’s the right answer? Yes or no? Because…what does it say about ME if I stay in my chair? What does it say about ME, if I join in the journey towards the altar? Am I willing to go public? Am I willing to publicly stay behind? What will this mean? What will this mean for ME?
There is no half way with such a calling. A choice must be made. And, for those of us who have been content in a half way life…it’s a hard choice with which to be faced. But, the truth of the matter is that a half lived life won’t get us anywhere and a choice must be made. We can’t continue to exist in the belly of the whale. Eventually we must choose a way.
A way between life and death. A choice between creation and destruction. A choice between the evil and the good. A choice to follow Christ, or turn away.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer, in his book “The Cost of Discipleship”, wrote
“The followers of Christ have been called to peace. … And they must not only have peace but also make it. And to that end they renounce all violence and tumult. In the cause of Christ nothing is to be gained by such methods. … His disciples keep the peace by choosing to endure suffering themselves rather than inflict it on others.”
To endure suffering, rather than inflict it on others. That is the unimaginable truth, isn’t it? That Christ would rather endure suffering than inflict it on others. That God, that God would accept the pain of the cross and even then, even then forgive. What wondrous love is this, oh my soul, oh my soul, what wondrous love is this oh my soul…
To suffer, rather than inflict suffering upon another. It strikes me that this idea, that of accepting suffering in order to avoid inflicting it upon another, is wildly counter cultural. It would have been counter cultural then and it is most certainly counter cultural now. Counter cultural because suffering is so often understood to be a “logical or natural consequence” of some moral ineptitude. When we see suffering in the world, we tend to cast about for blame—as if the sick, the poor, and the oppressed are somehow at fault for their affliction.
We blame the poor for being poor, we shame the hungry for being hungry, we diagnose the sick with moral failings…”they brought it on themselves”, we sigh and shake our heads, “they brought it on themselves.” And, then we turn and walk away—they have been suitably punished.
Self righteousness and vindictiveness in the face of need? It is to America’s shame. Not all that long ago a man posted a play by play on social media of his child asking for food, food that he refused to give until the child figured out, on their own, how to work a can opener. He offered no support or guidance, he did not teach his child to learn how to use a can opener. Publicly shaming his child for their hunger and for their need. “Bean dad” did not see fault in his actions—and twitter users put him to task. “Who, when their child asks for a piece of bread, would give them a snake instead?” one said
But, how is this different from what we as a country do when we refuse to create structures that will provide the kind of support that the most vulnerable people in our communities need in order to open their metaphorical “can of beans”. Shame instead of help, dismissal instead of teaching, a snake instead of bread.
Meanwhile, the churches argue about whether or not it’s “too political” to say that Black Lives Matter, or that everyone should have access to health care. Whether or not it’s too political to advocate for safe and affordable child care. Whether it’s too political to say that yes, there needs to be police reform; and yes, we need to eliminate gun violence. Is it too political to follow Christ? Is it too political to observe the Ten Commandments? Is it too political to love your neighbor as yourself?
Clearly…I have some feelings about this. I think carefully before I speak, I reflect deeply on what I hear. My goal is never to offend and it is certainly not to shame. Instead, my goal is to point to the Gospel and ask the question, are we doing that? Are we following Christ’s teachings? Are we sharing the good news? Are we honoring the dignity of every human being? Are we seeking and serving Christ in all persons? Are we?
Shhh…before you answer that. Before you go down some shame spiral of inadequacy, know that I see you. I see you striving to be good people in this world. I see you trying so hard to do what Christ would have you do. I see you showing up even when it’s uncomfortable. I see you wanting to do the right thing, even when you’re not quite sure what the right thing is. Left, right, in-between—I see how you care for each other. I see how you yearn to be cared for. You confess, you are absolved, you try again, and here we are.
Here we are, and in just a few moments our service will continue with an altar call—an Episcopalian, heavy on the words, stay in place, kind of altar call, the renewal of our baptismal vows. We’ve been using these vows since the feast of the Baptism of Christ, as a reminder of what we’ve committed ourselves to. As a way of publicly answering God’s call to us. As a means of setting ourselves back on the way of love, the way of Christ, a way that has the power to transform the world entire if we are willing to follow.
So, how about it, dear ones, shall we try again?
No comments:
Post a Comment