|
Identifying
Marks Sermon by Brigid A. Boyle May 25, 2003, Presbyterian Church of Chestnut Hill Deuteronomy 6:1-9 "'By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.'" I've been wondering what disciples are known for these days. I've been wondering how everyone manages to figure out that we are members of Christ's church. I've been wondering what people are hearing that helps everyone know who we are. Listen to a few of the newspaper headlines I've come across recently:
Most of these headlines speak to the gathering of the General Assembly this week in Denver, the gathering of commissions and delegates from across the country to do the business of the church. To no one's surprise, it promises to be a meeting marked by conflict and rancor, about some matters very consequential and, I dare say, some not. So such is the coverage at least the Presbyterian Church, this family of Christ's church, is getting these days. Though our eyes are naturally drawn to bylines that carry the word "Presbyterian," there are, no doubt, similar bylines for Catholics, Methodists, Episcopalians, Lutherans and just about very denomination out there. I am not saying there is nothing worth arguing about or nothing that demands we take a stand and speak out- God knows there is. But arguing, embattled, burdened, and divided? Is it by this alone that everyone should know that we are Christ's disciples? "Little children, I am with you only a little longer. You will look for me, but where I am going, you cannot come; and as I said to the Jews, so now I say to you, 'Where I am going, you cannot come.' I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also ought to love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another." As John reports the story, the words of instructions came to Jesus as a newsflash when the air was thick with uncertainty. Jesus and the disciples had gathered for a meal before the festival of the Passover. During supper, Jesus startled the disciples as he gently washed their feet and then mysteriously foretold his own betrayal. Just as the disciples' confusion and fear was growing, came the apparently simple instructions: Just as I have loved you, you also ought to love one another. As Jesus stepped closer and closer to the cross, these words were all the disciples needed to know, front-page headlines. As the early church sought to identify themselves in the world, as they sought to live in the light of his resurrection, these words were included in the Eastertide lectionary. Apparently simple instructions for bewildered disciples, "I give you a new commandment, just as I have loved you, you also ought to love one another." By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another. Apparently simple instructions for bewildered disciples. Or not. Since the time these words were first heard on that night long ago, I would be so bold as to say that we haven't really gotten it right. Now, given that we are humans and not God- thank God- I don’t except or believe that we will ever, this side of the kingdom coming, get it totally right. Nor do I believe that we have gotten it entirely wrong. Over and over, I have seen and known love among disciples. I would not be standing her today and you would not be sitting here today if we had not. But listen again- look again- to the words of Jesus. "By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another." By our love everyone shall know that we are Christ's disciples. The purpose of our love for one another is not only to sustain the souls within our community- that it certainly is- but it is also to identify who we are. "By this everyone" not just you, not just me, not even just us together, but everyone "will know that you are my disciples." I wonder what it might take for us to be known by our love. I wonder what it might take for us to create new headlines in the paper which report our love for one another rather than our bickering with one another, our commitment to each other rather than our hostility toward each other, our support of one another rather than our condemnation of one another. "The Christian concept of love," writes Glen Tinder, "is based on the nature not of human beings, but of God. We human beings are weak and often perverse, and our love reflects all the defects of our nature. Hence," he continues, "it is not human love ... but God's love that tells us what love really is." The current headlines are reflecting all the defects of our human nature. To write new headlines, perhaps we need to rely on a different source. Perhaps we need to rely on something, or rather someone, else to tell us what love really is. Then perhaps we will pen more stories- not more bad news worthy of the tabloids, but good news- the good news about God and God's way of loving. A couple of years ago, I visited the Jane Adams Hull House museum on the near west side of Chicago. The museum is small and makes its home in the original "Hull House," a small house donated to Jane Adams by a wealthy businessman before the turn of the last century. Jane Adams hope was to create a place at the intersection of several immigrant neighborhoods where people could gather together and grow together. Over the years, Hull House succeeded in embracing all people in many and marvelous ways. Day care centers were set up for small children whose parents went to work and playgrounds were constructed in the middle of the city so that all children, regardless of the language they spoke or the color of their skin, could play together. Hull House was a place where weavers from the Ukraine were invited to teach Italians how to construct intricate tapestries, where cooks from Greece taught the German their techniques for preparing Mediterranean cuisine, where dancers from Ireland taught the Polish how to do reels and jigs. Jane Adams, though her motivation was probably more humanitarian than overtly religious, created, I think, a most newsworthy vision of the kingdom. In a day when those different from each other by race, language, dress and creed were more often than not isolated from one another, her work affirmed the unique and gifts and skills that each and every soul brought, and taught them, even in the midst of their great diversity, to love one another. What it will take for us to change the headlines, it seems to me, is such an intentional embrace of each one of God's children. We are the disciples of one who reached out to a woman at a well who no one else would even talk to and who ate dinner with corrupt tax collectors. We are the followers of one who touched lepers and embrace those whom society would call unclean. We are the children of a God who loves each one of us- no matter how sordid our past, how sad our hearts, how feeble our frames. Such stories are not mere sensationalism, but are the true source for any story we might hope to write. Such stories show us the kind of loving you and I are called to, the kind of loving by which you and I are to be known. What might that look like for a congregation like this one? What might the Presbyterian Church of Chestnut Hill column read? One day it might read that we welcome families of all shapes and sizes, that we recognize that the definition of family is not just a mom, a dad, a couple of kids and maybe a dog. Maybe there would be an article covering our discourse with those different from us rather than about those different from us. Perhaps the headline might be that we are a church who listens to one another before labeling one another. Such is the kind of love that might move our column from Section C to the front page. It is the love that excludes no one, but, like Jesus, welcomes even the outcast, especially the outcast. In her poem, "Mrs. Schneider in Church," Kathleen Norris reflects on the graceful phenomenon of singing in the church, how we sing, most of us, knowing we can't and most of us out of tune but nevertheless our ordinary voices drag that organist along. While signing, Norris remembers the life each person has outside her church, how one cheats at cards, how one is furious with the other, about the bass who caused her trouble. But at poem's end, these words "Now we are changed, making a noise greater than ourselves" all duly noted, all duly forgiven." The singing and storytelling of a church that includes all the voices, no matter where they come from, is what will bring everyone to know that we are indeed Christ's disciples. By this everyone will know that we are Christ's disciples. But it will take more than inclusion, I am sure. Inclusion is one of those words that has been overused in the church, and its overuse creates some dangers for the church. Most obviously, the danger is that we might hear the word so often that we simply tune it out- like unto society's response to countless reports of violence in our streets. We become so accustomed to it that we forget we have to do something about it, or forget that we can do something about it. There is though, another danger. It is perhaps more subtle, but equally as perilous. The danger of which I speak is inclusion without responsibility. It happens when we begin to believe that, as everyone is welcome in the church, and should be welcome in the church, so no one is called to do anything in the church. It happens when we begin to believe that people might feel excluded if we are honest about the responsibility of Christians in the world. It happens when we begin to be more concerned with the numbers on the books rather than the numbers doing the real work of the kingdom. It happens when we broadcast the glorious news of the resurrection without the disturbing and demanding news of the crucifixion. The danger is quite simply, false advertising. To wit, Father Mapple's cry in the "The Sermon" from Moby Dick, "Woe to the man whom this world charms from gospel duty! Woe to him who seeks to pour oil on the waters when God has brewed them into a gale! Woe to him who seeks to please rather than to appall! Woe to him whose good name is more to him than goodness!" "Cheap grace" Bonhoeffer called it, country club Christianity others have named it, this easy and misunderstood inclusion which comes without responsibility, which pretends that nothing is required of us but to believe. "Cheap grace," Bonhoeffer writes, "is the preaching of forgiveness without repentance, baptism without church discipline, Communion without confession, absolution without personal confession. Cheap grace is grace without discipleship, grace without the cross, grace without Jesus Christ, living and incarnate." Jesus revealed his great love by including everyone. Yet Jesus did not edit out the call to or the cost of discipleship. Remember that as Jesus included Zacchaeus that tax collector in his love, he also challenged him to change his ways, to live and work honestly and responsibly, respecting others. Remember that as Jesus loved even the Pharisees who challenged him, he also threw over the table sin the temple, calling them to worship God with reverence. Remember that as Jesus included the ever-confused Peter in his fold, he called him to feed the other sheep. Remember that as Jesus included and healed and touched and forgave the likes of us, he also said, "Go and do likewise." When we really look at the story of God's love, inclusion and responsibility go hand in hand. To be sure, inclusion is not dependent on satisfactory fulfillment of responsibility, not works righteousness. It is not a love based on how well we do, but the great gift of inclusion necessarily demands grateful response and responsibility. If we are to love one another so that everyone will know we are Christ's disciples, then we must challenge one another to live out that grateful response. What I mean is not simply living pious lives that follow a given set of rules and breed self-righteousness. What I mean is rather living our lives and doers of the word, living lives as followers of Jesus Christ. Imagine the newspaper- someday there would be articles about Christians who could show the rest of the world new means of dealing with conflict that are helpful and not hurtful, that build up the community rather than tear it apart and so bring the world peace. Maybe there would be a story about some church members who believe so deeply in the need to children to live and play in safety and are so furious at schoolyard and street corner shootings that they finally had the guts to speak out- together, loudly, clearly, and unashamedly, against the legislation that lets small hands find guns with such ease. Perhaps there would be a column about young people in the church who are impressed rather than distressed with the way we talk to one another. Maybe there would be a story about some college students who head that Christians in mainline churches these days give five times as much money to the soft drink industry as they do to mission and together, with friends across the country, would give up drinking soft drinks and use that money to donate a million dollars to Heifer Project. Yes, they are imaginary stories, but imagination is apart of our calling as we are those who seek "to serve the people with energy, intelligence, imagination and love" They are stories of what we could do if we put our minds to it. They are the stories of love that will let everyone know we are Christ's disciples. My friends, for Christ's sake and in God's name, it is time we start working together to let everyone know that we are Christ's disciples, not by our divisions, denominational or otherwise, but by our love. It is time for us to write new stories, not just stories that hit the back section of the local paper, but also stories that hit the front page of the New York Times and the Chicago Tribune and the Washington Post. Stories broadcast across all the networks an on every Internet bulletin board. Stories of inclusion and stories of people whose faith compels them to seek justice. Stories of welcoming and stories of service. Stories of invitation and stories or responsibility. Stories from denominations whose members number in the hundreds of thousands and stories from local congregations like the Presbyterian one in Chestnut Hill, Pennsylvania. Stories about those who go to Maine for a week to rehabilitate the homes of those in desperate need, or to Haiti to help a people grow and develop in so many ways. When all of us start going and doing likewise, maybe then the headline will read something like this: "By their love for one another, everyone knows that they are disciples." I hope that day comes soon. I hope it does. Thanks be to God. Amen. |