Introduction to the gospel reading: Last week we heard that Jesus was the fulfillment of the promise of redemption made through Isaiah. We talked about the way in which the fulfillment God’s promises not only happened in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus but also in those moments of our lives where people demonstrate love and grace and mercy. Over the last few weeks we’ve also struggled with the question of whether this promise of redemption is simply for those that believe or are they for those that believe to demonstrate and offer to all the world. Listen now to what Jesus has to say about all of that, and what the Spirit might teach us today.
[After reading Luke 4:21-30 I began the sermon by singing a verse from San Francisco by the Mowglis.]
I’ve been in love with love
And the idea of something binding us together
You know that love is strong enough
I’ve seen time tell tales about that systematic drug
Yeah that heart that beats as one
It’s collectively unconsciously composed
So begins the song, San Francisco by the Mowglis. It’s a silly sing-along love song that I think speaks to a greater truth than it intends. It’s unclear whether they are talking about romantic love or compassion or something else entirely, but what I hear is the love that, to quote Obi-Wan, “binds us and penetrates us and holds the [universe] together.”
That’s the love that permeates the readings we share today. In the reading from Jeremiah, God calls him to be a prophet. Now the whole destroyer of nations thing does not sound particularly loving, yet that’s really not so much about God as it is about humanity. In that time, scriptures tell us, the people had forgotten the God that had brought them through the waters and fed them in the desert, and they made sacrifices to other Gods. Kings also made covenants without care for God’s providence.
So, from a certain point of view, God’s call to Jeremiah was an offering of hope in the midst of the nation breaking and building that was going on all around him. In fact, there are two things that demonstrate God’s collective, pervasive love in all of this. First is the fact that Jeremiah was called in the midst of vulnerability. God often calls people that way.
“Hey, Moses, too bad about the speech issue and the warrant for your arrest. Here’s a staff. Go set my people free,” said God. “Take only your left-handed soldiers,” said God to Gideon. “Bring the runt of the litter,” said God about David. “Go tell the unwed peasant girl. If they play by the rules, they might actually kill her. Let’s see how that goes,” said God about Mary. “Now go tell the shepherds. No one likes them. It’ll be nice for them to share the good news!” said God to his angels.
Anyway, God came to Jeremiah and promised to be with him. God promised presence. God promised providence, and God promised to give Jeremiah God’s word, to literally place God’s word in his mouth.
I’ve said it before, and I’m sure I’ll say it again, truth-telling – speaking the truth on behalf of God – is what prophecy is all about in the old testament. It’s not about fortune telling. Sometimes it is predictive, but really, it’s more about naming consequences of present behaviors and occasionally watching things burn. What matters most is not the events but the reason behind them. What matters is the way in which we embrace or disregard the providence of God.
So, Jeremiah was called, and if you take the events of Pentecost into consideration, we all are called, to speak up when things in the world are disconnected from the providence of God. That’s love, my boo. [Cajun phrase for those reading this from other places.]
The love that connects us to the providence of God the kind of love that Paul has been talking about to the church in Corinth, and also to us, over the past few weeks. Throughout this letter, he’s been slyly acknowledging spiritual experiences that may be similar to other practices in pagan rituals, but he’s also been carefully reversing the hierarchy of things.
The wealthy need to let others eat first in the common meal. People who believe they speak for God need to check their mouths against their actions, and nothing matters but love. By that, I don’t mean romantic love. This passage was not written for weddings. I know we love to use it for that, and it’s great that people recognize that the most important partnership they have is their spouse. Still, these words were written to a community that found it hard to get along.
Paul described not only what love is but what love does because they weren’t doing it! The Greek is kind of fun in this section. I won’t bore you with it, but some of the choices that other translators have made include saying that love does not lapse. There are no gaps in it. Love is also unending on either end. Love was here before us and it’ll be hereafter. Love is something we participate in, even though we only understand a little bit of what it is.
Paul promises that one day we’ll know, but I think sometimes that it’s more like we don’t really want to know. At least that’s what happened when Jesus spoke about love that is real and true. Maybe you didn’t catch this, but when Jesus began to preach, he said two things that they didn’t want to hear. First, he told them what he believed they were thinking, and second, he told them what God meant by “fulfillment.”
It’s a very dangerous thing for a preacher to assume what his or her congregation is thinking, but I guess Jesus can take that risk. He can take that risk because he knew that he was speaking the truth about God’s providence. It was a truth they did not want to hear because it was about love and acceptance and redemption offered to a foreign woman and a foreign general. So, it raised for them and raises our questions about the foreigner that will give us shelter and the enemy in need of our care.
Obviously, they responded with some of the same type of anger that we see on the news and social media when you raise these issues. Instead of being part of the fulfillment of God’s covenant, they were filled with rage. They tried to kill him, but he went on his way.
I’m sure we’d all like to know how that worked out, but I believe the gospel writer wanted us to know that it is the way of Jesus that prevails. Part of the way of Jesus is sacrificial love but dying at the hands of those that helped to raise him would not serve the good news of the providence of God, so he went on his way.
Just like the people of that synagogue, we are left scratching our heads as we try to figure out what he really meant and how we can follow. I have to say that it’s actually not that hard. That’s what a friend from the Downtown Faith Alliance told me the other day about the issue of feeding people in public spaces. People are hungry. Some are homeless. Some are not. It’s not that hard.
Now, I hope you won’t throw me off a cliff for saying it, but that’s not the only issue. Poverty, systematic racism, and the economic advantages of war are tearing us apart as a nation, and we would rather argue about the individual responsibilities of the poor than the need for justice for all. Please don’t throw me off the cliff for saying it, but there are 400 people in this country that have more wealth than the 204 million people in poverty combined.
Meanwhile, you can overlay a map with areas of poverty, areas where more people of color live, and areas where voter suppression has happened through restrictive codes and laws that make voting difficult. Guess what? It’s the same map. Meanwhile, .54 on the dollar of discretionary spending goes to the military. I’m not saying that we shouldn’t have a military, but I am saying that we are profiting from money spent on death rather than investing in life. We already lose more off the field of battle than on it.
Please don’t throw me off a cliff for saying it, but I believe there is a more excellent way. I believe that it starts within each of us. It starts with hearing the voices of those that we would rather dismiss. It starts with prayer, with turning our own lives over to God, and with acting not only like we care but that there is a God who cares.
Sure, there are political solutions we can push for. They will all be imperfect, and they will all be adjusted along the way. One day they will even cease to be relevant. There are also people at the top that will make benevolent decisions, like the CEO of Patagonia that just donated his $10 million tax cut to fight climate change. There are people like the Presbyterian Disaster Crew that came through last week for the third year in a row to do flood recovery. There are members in this congregation that show up every chance they get to serve in love and faith and hope.
There are also people like the Rev. Barber, who I heard speak at First Presbyterian in New Orleans on Monday, who reminds me that we always have to push for more. So, forgive me if I get a little political – in the way of Jesus – and tell you that just because we passed legislation in the ’60s doesn’t mean that equality has been achieved. Forgive me if some of these words have filled you with anger because I have said that the fulfillment that Jesus proclaimed is not for you and for me to have.
Forgive me – actually, don’t – because I have to tell you that the promise of grace and mercy and love wasn’t given for a community to have and to hold. It was given to all believers on behalf of all unbelievers because sharing the good news is our job! Our job is to shine the light of Christ. Our job is to be made uncomfortable by someone else’s discomfort and to give witness to the disconnect between people and the providence of God.
Now, in order to do that, we have been given gifts and talents, but they don’t actually matter as much as faith and hope and love. Love is the greatest, but it does get you in the most trouble. I think that’s where the way of Jesus is leading us though, not straight off a cliff but definitely into trouble. It’s good trouble, though. Do you feel it?
Do you feel the love? I feel the love
C’mon c’mon, let’s start it up
Comments