Opportunity to Testify
November 13, 2016
At Vancouver UCC
Luke 21:5-19
A few weeks ago, we sat
together in small groups during worship and talked about some of our hopes for
this congregation. There were many great
ideas to emerge from that process - as specific as “switch from natural gas to
electric in our remodel,” and as general as “keep being welcoming the way we
are now.” But the one idea that came
from nearly every single group, was this: let other people know more about
us. Get the word out to the wider
community about the healing and the hope that happens here. There were a few specific examples of how to
do this – most having something to do with advertising.
But none mentioned what we
something in UCC circles call the e-word, a word we shun because it is so often
associated with a kind of Christianity
many of us find difficult to relate to – evangelism, the simple act of telling
other people about your faith, and how
your faith has transformed you. This is
NOT the same as telling your friends and neighbors and the guy behind you in
the starbucks line about all our great programs and projects – true evangelism
is most effective when it is most vulnerable, most willing to first look in and
then reach out. Evangelism is a time
honored way to get people to learn more about this community of faith – to tell
them about it – both with words and with actions.
Now, there are several
problems with evangelism as far as progressive commmuities like ours are
concerned. I tried to list them. First,
evangelism is embarrassing. Second, well
it’s embarrassing. And third, it’s
really very embarrassing.
Really, no matter how say
it, polite progressive people shrink from evangelism, from sharing our personal
faith stories, because we don't want to be embarrassed or embarrass someone
else. What this week has shown me more
than anything is that we no longer have the luxury of embarrassment – our lgbt
family, our disabled family, our immigrant family, our African American family
– might say that it was a luxury we could ill afford for a long time.
Listen to the gospel reading
from this week. Jesus is telling his disciples about the
destruction of their most sacred and beloved institution. Not just a church building (although we know
how devastating the destruction of a building can be can be) the temple was the
center of government, of commerce, of fellowship, of celebration, of education,
or worship. It was, literally, where God
lived. In short the temple was the
center of everything. In Jesus’ telling, the destruction won’t be for
some time.
But Luke is writing this
story two generations after the temple is destroyed. So he’s writing about a past event, an event that
already really happened. And he’s
writing about the destruction, the terror, the violation, as if it is the
future, as if it is something that has not yet happened. So in a way, there is a timelessness to the
description of destruction, waste and terror – it is happening in the future
and it is happening in the past and, yes, it is happening right now.
Our own metro area has been
the center of nation media attention, as national protests rock Portland’s
streets every night. But the destruction that I would like to focus on this
morning is the is the nationwide destruction of personal safety and human rights. It does not matter who you voted for. The violence that we’ve seen this week
threatens our most sacred and beloved institutions – religious freedom, welcome
of immigrants, safety for all.
These are some of the
stories I have heard his week.
A Muslim girl’s hijab was
ripped off by a group chanting the name of our president elect.
A Mexican child was told, “you’ll
have to leave the country now.”
A Black woman was pushed
into the street while walking, called a despicable epithet and told to stay off
the sidewalk
A college student who was
groped by a fellow student who crowed, “we can do this now whenever we want.”
There was n unprecedented
spike in calls at a suicide hotline for trans persons
In a group in downtown
Portland, a Jewish man tells us his sister began preparations to emigrate to
Spain (“where our family has not lived since 1493”) because “if my grandfather
hadn’t gotten out of Germany none of us would have been born.”
A clergy person who had gone
to standing rock told me “I had hope for the environment, now I don't have any.”
I received a frantic phone
call on Thursday from an out lesbian whose LGBT support group in rural Oregon
was broken up by armed militia.
Jesus, in his sometimes
uncomforting comforting way tells us how to respond to times like this. These days are an opportunity, he says, to
testify. To speak boldly. The tell the truth of what we believe about a
God whose preference is for the poor, the marginalized, the outcast, the
oppressed, the violated. To remind others
by word and by deed that God’s love and embrace is much bigger than our
buildings or institutions. God’s love spills out into the streets and our homes
and the world – a lesson this community of faith – post fire, post building - is in a unique position to understand and
communicate.
Is it really just
embarrassment that is stopping us from speaking? Is it just embarrassment that
stops us from proclaiming, “I stand with you because my faith tells me that I
must” and “I love you because God loves
you” and “I take risks because I follow
Jesus, and he took risks”
Sandy Messick, the DOC area
minister in this region wrote this week: Before I claimed a
political party affiliation, God claimed me. Before we were Republicans or
Democrats, we were and are beloved children of God; more specifically we are
followers of Christ. As such, we are called to be Christ’s witness in the
world, Christ’s hands and hearts and voice. That has not changed…We are called
to stand with those who are afraid and uncertain about what the future may hold
and stand against language and actions that injure and divide. We are called to
love one another as Christ has loved us.” (http://www.disciplesnw.org/newsletter/rev-sandy-messick-word-region)
If you want to show that love in a visible way, you
might consider taking a safety pin from the communion table today and pinning
it to your jacket as you go out in public. There is a small movement afoot to
wear a safety pin as a sign of solidarity and support for those who may be
targeted in these distressing days. It’s
such a small thing, not hardly anything really, to fasten a pin to your shirt.
(http://www.ucc.org/daily_devotional_safety_pinned) It hardly seems like enough. And yet, it is one way to share testimony, to
say “We are called to love one another as Christ has loved…”
Yesterday, I took a break from the 24/7 screen diet
I’d been ingesting all week and took my son and godchildren outside to rake the
leaves. As we raked the leaves into big
piles, leaves continued to fall all around and on us, including on places we
had just cleared. I was reminded of my
dad who used to leave the house in the middle of a big snow storm to go outside
and shovel snow, with the flakes still swirling all around him. We used to tease him, about this, I
think. It seemed so futile, this act of
cleaning up what continued to happen. But yesterday as we raked the leaves, I
understood it.
You gotta start shoveling before all the snow has
fallen. You gotta rake leaves before all
the leaves are on the ground. You gotta
overcome the embarrassment that stops you from testifying enough to fasten a
pin from your coat. You must start. Now, today, in whatever small way you can. And
then your soul, Jesus promises, will not wither, shrink and die away. Your soul will live.
Amen.
No comments:
Post a Comment