Modeling A Necessary Future
Sermon
Sermons on the Second Readings
Series II, Cycle B
It was the custom in my friend's church for many years to have a week of family camp in the summer. Families by the dozens packed their cars, vans, and SUVs and made their way to the camp for a week of fun, exercise, and inspiration.
There were matins, a hearty camp breakfast, stimulating lectures and discussions, and lots of sports, crafts, and recreational activities. In the evening, appetites were ravenous and vespers were inspirational as they ascended the hill singing, "We Are Climbing Jacob's Ladder." Evening programs, talent shows, and communion services were engaging. In the afternoons, the brave of heart even went swimming in the pond which, because of its color, was aptly named "Prune Dip." My friend never went!
And yes, as I said, there was matins, which means morning prayers and devotions, at the camp flagpole. It was at matins one morning that my friend saw it, and when he saw it, it sort of jolted him awake. One of the tall, lanky teenagers was wearing a black T-shirt with bold, white letters which said, "No One Gets Out Of Here Alive!"
At first, my friend thought it was a reference to the quality of the camp food, which left much to be desired, but then he realized he was making a profound comment about our human condition. No one knows more than ministers the truth of the statement, "No One Gets Out Of Here Alive." Our succession of funerals and burials at cemeteries remind us regularly and powerfully of our common mortality.
If that T-shirt was a solemn reminder, so was another experience common to most of us. You may remember it as I do, so very vividly. It was the experience of the first photographs of Mother Earth taken from the moon.
There we were, all five or six billion of us sharing this unique, magnificent, emerald blue spaceship in the solar system. All of us -- white and black, red and yellow, rich and poor, educated and uneducated, male and female -- all of us sharing the unique planet -- unique perhaps in the universe. And more than ever before, we realized our common humanity and that we are all in this together.
This is the vision of our text written over 1,900 years ago -- a vision of a common humanity, united on a common planet for peace, productivity, and hope. The writer of the text calls upon the church to be the model of a necessary future, because we are all in this together, and not one of us gets out of here without a stop at the cemetery.
I
In modeling a necessary future, the church needs to continue to do as Christ did -- to break down the walls of hostility between people.
In Paul's day, the walls of hostility were very real between Jew and Gentile. In the eyes of many Jews in this time, there were two main divisions of humanity on Mother Earth -- Jews and Gentiles, circumcised and uncircumcised, included and excluded, the chosen ones and the ones not chosen, insiders and outsiders.
Biblical scholar, William Barclay, says that many Jews of that time had contempt for Gentiles, believing God had created them to be fuel for the fires of hell. Orthodox Jews of the time often thanked God they were not created a woman or a Gentile. It was not lawful for a Jew to help a Gentile in childbirth because that would imply bringing another contemptible Gentile into the world. If a Jewish young person married a Gentile and converted, the Jewish family held a funeral service for their child as if he or she were dead.
It was only natural then, that this exclusivism should have been expressed in the Jewish temple in Jerusalem. Jewish historian, Josephus, says an inscription on the temple wall forbade any foreigner to go in under pain of death. Indeed, in 1871, archeologists found one of those stones with the inscription which read: "Let no one of any other nation come within the fence and barrier around the holy place. Whosoever will be taken doing so will himself be responsible for his death which will ensue."
But others were exclusive, too. Remember that there were Roman citizens and then all the others. The Greeks classified almost everyone but themselves as barbarians. The great philosopher, Plato, once said that the barbarians, the non-Greeks, are our enemies by nature, and in our time we have had iron curtains, bamboo curtains, Berlin walls, trade and tariff barriers, and barriers of race, caste, class, and religion.
But Christ came to put an end to these dividing walls and barriers of hostility and exclusivism. Rather than attempting to assert himself as a davidic messiah to build an exclusivistic, nationalistic kingdom based on heredity and narrow tradition, Jesus surrendered himself to build a universal kingdom where all are included, for he realized more than anyone, we are all in this together. And it is working. The church is universal and includes people from almost every nation, culture, class, race, and language group.
Nevertheless, Christians themselves often have continued the hostility. During the Middle Ages, the Christian treatment of Jews was often horrendous and despicable. In one of the Christian crusades to reclaim the holy land from the Infidels (by which they meant the Muslims), Christian crusaders slaughtered a whole village of Jews just because they felt like it.
The inquisition of the Roman Catholic church drove Jews and Muslims out of Spain where they had lived peaceably for centuries. Protestant and Roman Catholic hostilities of history are well known as are Protestant against Protestant intolerances.
In his book, The Cross of Peace, Sir Philip Gibbs says that "Modern progress has made the world a neighborhood: God has given us the task of making it a brotherhood and sisterhood."1 Indeed he has, and we can begin by breaking down the walls of hostility between people, because we are all in this together.
II
In modeling a necessary future, we must not only work to break down the walls of hostility, we must work to build a new edifice of inclusiveness.
As we have noted, the ancient Jewish temple prohibited non-Jews, upon penalty of death, from entering the holy place surrounded by imposing stones. Non-Mormons are not allowed in the Mormon temple, and Protestant Christians technically are not allowed to receive the Roman Catholic Eucharist. Certain Protestant churches exclude other Protestants from their communion tables.
But the writer of Ephesians, like the writer of 1 Peter, envisions quite a different kind of holy temple. This temple is to be built not of stones, but of spirit-filled people who are themselves the living stones of an ever-expanding temple of God. Built on the prophets and apostles with Jesus Christ as the chief cornerstone, this temple is to be as expansive and inclusive as the very Spirit of God.
However, most of us wonder if God is as interested in people quite different from us as he is in us. Theologian Theodore Wedel said it was quite an experience for white, western Christians to see Fiji Island Christians with strange coiffures, black Pygmy Basutoland Christians, and other peoples so unlike our race or class, giving their heartfelt allegiance to the same Christ. I remember seeing a book titled, God Is An Englishman, and I loved the title, because it symbolized the way we tend to make God in our image.
I am reminded of a story told by Professor Fred Craddock, New Testament scholar and a professor of preaching. He was beginning a new semester and on the first day of class an unusual student entered. Not your typical seminary student, this older man had mustache and beard and ponytail. He wore black leather pants, a denim shirt, a black leather vest, a heavy chain necklace, and large metal bracelets. "To top it off," said Dr. Craddock, "the man was covered with tattoos."
Dr. Craddock confessed that he wondered if there must not be some mistake. This was a class for people preparing for the ministry. He wondered how this man could be a Christian, let alone a candidate for the ministry. And according to Dr. Craddock, he turned out to be one of the kindest, gentlest, most thoughtful and considerate men he had every known. He was reminded again of how inclusive Christ's holy temple of spiritual people can and should be.
So rather than putting up barriers of caste, class, race, and religion, we need to expand this living, holy temple of God to be tolerant and inclusive. This is not to say we must all become an amalgamated, conformist glob of saccharin sameness. Not that. God celebrates variety even more than we do.
It does mean, however, that we will practice tolerance and thoughtfulness. It does mean we will pray for diplomats and statesmen and peacemakers. It does mean we will work for peace, understanding, and harmony among the world religions. And as Christians, it means we will celebrate our love for Christ who calls us to break down the walls of hostility and build an inclusive spiritual temple of peace.
As the church, we are called to model this necessary future because, as we have seen from the moon, all five or six billion of us on Mother Earth are in this together.
____________
1.ÊSir Philip Gibbs, The Cross of Peace (Garden City, New York: Doubleday, Doran & Company, 1935).
There were matins, a hearty camp breakfast, stimulating lectures and discussions, and lots of sports, crafts, and recreational activities. In the evening, appetites were ravenous and vespers were inspirational as they ascended the hill singing, "We Are Climbing Jacob's Ladder." Evening programs, talent shows, and communion services were engaging. In the afternoons, the brave of heart even went swimming in the pond which, because of its color, was aptly named "Prune Dip." My friend never went!
And yes, as I said, there was matins, which means morning prayers and devotions, at the camp flagpole. It was at matins one morning that my friend saw it, and when he saw it, it sort of jolted him awake. One of the tall, lanky teenagers was wearing a black T-shirt with bold, white letters which said, "No One Gets Out Of Here Alive!"
At first, my friend thought it was a reference to the quality of the camp food, which left much to be desired, but then he realized he was making a profound comment about our human condition. No one knows more than ministers the truth of the statement, "No One Gets Out Of Here Alive." Our succession of funerals and burials at cemeteries remind us regularly and powerfully of our common mortality.
If that T-shirt was a solemn reminder, so was another experience common to most of us. You may remember it as I do, so very vividly. It was the experience of the first photographs of Mother Earth taken from the moon.
There we were, all five or six billion of us sharing this unique, magnificent, emerald blue spaceship in the solar system. All of us -- white and black, red and yellow, rich and poor, educated and uneducated, male and female -- all of us sharing the unique planet -- unique perhaps in the universe. And more than ever before, we realized our common humanity and that we are all in this together.
This is the vision of our text written over 1,900 years ago -- a vision of a common humanity, united on a common planet for peace, productivity, and hope. The writer of the text calls upon the church to be the model of a necessary future, because we are all in this together, and not one of us gets out of here without a stop at the cemetery.
I
In modeling a necessary future, the church needs to continue to do as Christ did -- to break down the walls of hostility between people.
In Paul's day, the walls of hostility were very real between Jew and Gentile. In the eyes of many Jews in this time, there were two main divisions of humanity on Mother Earth -- Jews and Gentiles, circumcised and uncircumcised, included and excluded, the chosen ones and the ones not chosen, insiders and outsiders.
Biblical scholar, William Barclay, says that many Jews of that time had contempt for Gentiles, believing God had created them to be fuel for the fires of hell. Orthodox Jews of the time often thanked God they were not created a woman or a Gentile. It was not lawful for a Jew to help a Gentile in childbirth because that would imply bringing another contemptible Gentile into the world. If a Jewish young person married a Gentile and converted, the Jewish family held a funeral service for their child as if he or she were dead.
It was only natural then, that this exclusivism should have been expressed in the Jewish temple in Jerusalem. Jewish historian, Josephus, says an inscription on the temple wall forbade any foreigner to go in under pain of death. Indeed, in 1871, archeologists found one of those stones with the inscription which read: "Let no one of any other nation come within the fence and barrier around the holy place. Whosoever will be taken doing so will himself be responsible for his death which will ensue."
But others were exclusive, too. Remember that there were Roman citizens and then all the others. The Greeks classified almost everyone but themselves as barbarians. The great philosopher, Plato, once said that the barbarians, the non-Greeks, are our enemies by nature, and in our time we have had iron curtains, bamboo curtains, Berlin walls, trade and tariff barriers, and barriers of race, caste, class, and religion.
But Christ came to put an end to these dividing walls and barriers of hostility and exclusivism. Rather than attempting to assert himself as a davidic messiah to build an exclusivistic, nationalistic kingdom based on heredity and narrow tradition, Jesus surrendered himself to build a universal kingdom where all are included, for he realized more than anyone, we are all in this together. And it is working. The church is universal and includes people from almost every nation, culture, class, race, and language group.
Nevertheless, Christians themselves often have continued the hostility. During the Middle Ages, the Christian treatment of Jews was often horrendous and despicable. In one of the Christian crusades to reclaim the holy land from the Infidels (by which they meant the Muslims), Christian crusaders slaughtered a whole village of Jews just because they felt like it.
The inquisition of the Roman Catholic church drove Jews and Muslims out of Spain where they had lived peaceably for centuries. Protestant and Roman Catholic hostilities of history are well known as are Protestant against Protestant intolerances.
In his book, The Cross of Peace, Sir Philip Gibbs says that "Modern progress has made the world a neighborhood: God has given us the task of making it a brotherhood and sisterhood."1 Indeed he has, and we can begin by breaking down the walls of hostility between people, because we are all in this together.
II
In modeling a necessary future, we must not only work to break down the walls of hostility, we must work to build a new edifice of inclusiveness.
As we have noted, the ancient Jewish temple prohibited non-Jews, upon penalty of death, from entering the holy place surrounded by imposing stones. Non-Mormons are not allowed in the Mormon temple, and Protestant Christians technically are not allowed to receive the Roman Catholic Eucharist. Certain Protestant churches exclude other Protestants from their communion tables.
But the writer of Ephesians, like the writer of 1 Peter, envisions quite a different kind of holy temple. This temple is to be built not of stones, but of spirit-filled people who are themselves the living stones of an ever-expanding temple of God. Built on the prophets and apostles with Jesus Christ as the chief cornerstone, this temple is to be as expansive and inclusive as the very Spirit of God.
However, most of us wonder if God is as interested in people quite different from us as he is in us. Theologian Theodore Wedel said it was quite an experience for white, western Christians to see Fiji Island Christians with strange coiffures, black Pygmy Basutoland Christians, and other peoples so unlike our race or class, giving their heartfelt allegiance to the same Christ. I remember seeing a book titled, God Is An Englishman, and I loved the title, because it symbolized the way we tend to make God in our image.
I am reminded of a story told by Professor Fred Craddock, New Testament scholar and a professor of preaching. He was beginning a new semester and on the first day of class an unusual student entered. Not your typical seminary student, this older man had mustache and beard and ponytail. He wore black leather pants, a denim shirt, a black leather vest, a heavy chain necklace, and large metal bracelets. "To top it off," said Dr. Craddock, "the man was covered with tattoos."
Dr. Craddock confessed that he wondered if there must not be some mistake. This was a class for people preparing for the ministry. He wondered how this man could be a Christian, let alone a candidate for the ministry. And according to Dr. Craddock, he turned out to be one of the kindest, gentlest, most thoughtful and considerate men he had every known. He was reminded again of how inclusive Christ's holy temple of spiritual people can and should be.
So rather than putting up barriers of caste, class, race, and religion, we need to expand this living, holy temple of God to be tolerant and inclusive. This is not to say we must all become an amalgamated, conformist glob of saccharin sameness. Not that. God celebrates variety even more than we do.
It does mean, however, that we will practice tolerance and thoughtfulness. It does mean we will pray for diplomats and statesmen and peacemakers. It does mean we will work for peace, understanding, and harmony among the world religions. And as Christians, it means we will celebrate our love for Christ who calls us to break down the walls of hostility and build an inclusive spiritual temple of peace.
As the church, we are called to model this necessary future because, as we have seen from the moon, all five or six billion of us on Mother Earth are in this together.
____________
1.ÊSir Philip Gibbs, The Cross of Peace (Garden City, New York: Doubleday, Doran & Company, 1935).
