transforming anger into compassion: jesus and the power of transforming initiatives

Year A • The Sixth Sunday After Epiphany

Deuteronomy 30:15–20 • Psalm 119:1–8 • 1 Corinthians 3:1–9 • Matthew 5:21–37

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Sermon available on YouTube by clicking here,

as an Audio File by clicking here,

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The Sermon

Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart

be [always] acceptable in your sight, O Lord, my Strength and my Redeemer.

                                                                                                        — Psalm 19:14.

We Live in An Angry World And I am Something of an Expert

How many of you watch the news or read the newspaper? How many of you drive in traffic, stand in long lines at the checkout, or follow Twitter? Watch what people do; listen to how they talk to their children; read what they post on Facebook. If you do any of these things, for any length of time, you would be hard-pressed to draw any other conclusion than that our world is filled with angry people, with fearful, frustrated, angry people.  

     We live in an angry world, and I consider myself to be something of an expert. After all, I am a father of four, and I spend my days with middle schoolers as a substitute teacher in the public school system. Need I say more?

     I deal with anger on a daily basis, my own anger, that is. There is not a day that goes by that I do not feel anger. But that’s not the half of it. I find that I use anger; I rely upon it. I find that I have come to trust anger in an effort to control my world. By way of illustration, let me tell you a little story.

7th Hour

I am a building substitute for Pleasant Valley Middle School. So every day I go to Pleasant Valley, and they plug me into whatever classroom I am needed. I teach all grades and all subjects; sometimes more than one in a given day. Before Christmas, I was assigned to sub-teach a 7th Grade Social Studies class. It was a Friday, and the day had gone fairly well until 7th hour, the last hour of the day. For the life of me, I couldn’t get these kids to pay attention or stay on task. I got increasingly frustrated, because I am there to teach, not to babysit. There was lots of talking, lots of moving around, lots of distractions; all the things I hate. One girl comes in ten minutes late from the nurse. As soon as she enters the room, she begins chatting with a couple of students. She does this as she finds her seat and as if I were not in the middle of  teaching a lesson. I am not impressed, and my agitation and anger rises. I tell her to sit down and be quiet; and she is offended.

     This sort of thing continues, and I finally announce that if there is any more talking or disruptions, I will keep people after class. I then spend the rest of the hour with those who are working. When the bell rings, I dismiss two-thirds of the class, and I keep the rest. They are shocked, and express outrage at being treated this way. I am equally shocked and outraged, telling them that they need to pick up any paper on the floor and straighten the desks before they go. At this point, there is more shock, more outrage, and a bit of swearing (not by me).

     One girl says that it isn’t her mess, and so she isn’t picking anything up. Another girl calls her mother and says that she will be late because her teacher is being retarded. A boy insists that he has to get to basketball practice, but he refuses to do any work. The first girl says, “Mister, you may not have anywhere to go, but I’ve got somewhere to be.” A few students do what I ask, and I let them go. But in the end, I march four very angry students to the office, and then I head home very shaken.

     Did I act appropriately,… as a teacher,… as an employee of USD 259? I think I did; and the administration thinks I did. Yet, two months later, I am still bothered by the incident. There was so much anger over something that was fairly routine. Where did it all come from? What could I have done that might have helped myself and my students?

Our Anger Doesn’t Produce God’s Righteousness

I don’t enjoy getting angry or expressing anger. I hate the way it makes me feel. More­over, most of the time, my anger doesn’t actually achieve what I intend. Yet, I find myself turning to it again and again. Is this not the very definition of insanity, according to Einstein, “doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.” Anger just doesn’t seem to work very well, and I am reminded of what James—the brother of our Lord—had to say on the subject of anger.

You must understand this, my beloved: let everyone be quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger; for your anger does not produce God’s righteousness (James 1:19–20, nrsv).

Let me read that again:

Let everyone be quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger; for your anger does not produce God’s righteousness (James 1:19–20, nrsv).

Well, I wish somebody would have told me that a long time ago; it would’ve saved me a whole lot of trouble. Oh, I’ve heard that stuff about being quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to anger. But that last bit, that last bit is what really gets me. Our anger does not produce God’s righteousness. Really? Is that really true? Are you telling me, James, that yelling at my kids—with flared nostrils and eyes aflame—isn’t producing the faith, hope, and love that God is looking for? …that all of my threats are for naught?

Let’s say that James is right, that human anger does not produce God’s righteous­ness. What do we do? Well, the answer seems fairly obvious? Don’t get angry. Don’t ever get angry. After all, isn’t that what Jesus teaches us. “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall not murder,’ but I say to you, don’t even get angry?” Well, how do we do that? How do we not get angry?

     Well, before we try to tackle that question, it should be noted that Jesus never actually says, “Don’t get angry.” What I just quoted a second ago is not what Jesus teaches; it is, however, what we have been taught to hear when we read or listen to the Sermon on the Mount. But, Jesus never says not to become angry. In fact, we have stories of Jesus expressing his anger. But that does not get us off the hook. We’ve still got a lot of work to do where anger is concerned.

We Are Possessed by Anger

Back in 2006, in his State of the Union Address, President George Bush declared, “America is addicted to oil.” That’s true. But the fact is, America is addicted to lots of things: sugar, high fructose corn syrup, processed foods, caffeine, Starbucks, partisan politics, Downton Abby… You name it; we’re addicted to it. And some­where up there, up near the top of the list is anger. And do you know what you get when you add a D to ANGER? You get DANGER. Listen to this quote I ran across this past week:

     Anger is dangerous because it is addictive. When we feel angry, we feel a sense of power, and that can grip us. Angry people often feed on their own anger and get angrier and more aggressive in their behaviour.

This sense of power is often false. Anger gives a person the illusion of being ‘right’. When we are angry, we feel self-righteous about it, we feel we are right to express our anger as anger, and humiliate other people. That in-turn only creates more anger.[1]

As a society, we are addicted to anger; in fact, we are possessed by anger, and it is from this demon that Jesus seeks to deliver us in today’s gospel reading from the Sermon on the Mount.

Transforming Initiatives

In his Sermon on the Mount, Jesus describes what life looks like in the kingdom of God and how we can participate in it. Unfortunately, Christians have been taught to read the Sermon on the Mount as a series of high ideals and impossible demands. So instead of feeling empowered, we simply feel guilty and judged. But the “Sermon on the Mount is not about human striving toward high ideals but about God’s transforming initiatives to deliver us from the vicious cycles in which we get stuck.”[2] So, Jesus is not teaching us how to pull ourselves up by our own boot­straps; rather, he is showing us how to actively and obediently participate in God’s gracious deliverance. Recall the Exodus. Only the power of God could free the Israelites from their Egyptian taskmasters, yet the people still had to make the journey. Only the power of God could have parted the waters of the Red Sea, but the people still had to participate by putting one foot in front of the other. That’s what Jesus is doing in the Sermon on the Mount.

     In today’s reading, Jesus covers a variety of topics. He talks about anger, lust, divorce, and swearing oaths. Next week he will talk about non-retaliation and loving our enemies. If you read these carefully, you will notice that they follow the same pattern, they all exhibit the same three-part structure.

First, they each begin with Jesus saying, “You have heard that it was said….” Here he introduces the traditional Jewish teaching on a given subject. Second, Jesus follows this traditional teaching with a diagnosis of the human condition, one that describes a cycle of sin that enslaves human beings. This part begins, “But I say to you….” And this is where we must be very careful. So on the topic of anger, Jesus says,

“You have heard that it was said to those of ancient times, ‘You shall not murder’; and ‘whoever murders shall be liable to judgment.’ But I say to you that if you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to judgment; and if you insult a brother or sister, you will be liable to the council; and if you say, ‘You fool,’ you will be liable to the hell of fire.”

     Those are strong words, but notice what Jesus does not say. He does not say, “Don’t get angry.” In fact, he doesn’t tell us to do anything. He is not prescribing any course of action yet. Why? Because at this point, he is simply describing the vicious cycle of anger, resentment, and hatred that can kill relationships and people. You see, when we harbor anger for another human being, we are disconnected from them. So often, that disconnection is maintained and reinforced through insults, name calling, and labeling, either aloud or internally in our thoughts. Insulting another person, calling them a idiot, keeps us in our anger. It stokes our anger, it serves to justify our anger in our own minds, and therefore disconnection grows and so does our anger. It truly is a vicious cycle.

     So how do we break free from these vicious cycles, according to Jesus? Well, it’s not a simple matter of just not doing these things. The solution comes in the climactic third part of Jesus’ teaching. Listen.

So when you are offering your gift at the altar, if you remember that your brother or sister has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go; first be reconciled to your brother or sister, and then come and offer your gift.

Here Jesus offers us, not a general principle, but concrete actions designed to set us free from the anger and resentment we find ourselves trapped in. Anger is about disconnection, so Jesus prescribes a course of action that seeks to establish or re-establish connection with another human being. Thus, the solution to our problem with anger is not, “Don’t be angry. Don’t insult people.,” but “Be reconciled.” Because it is only in establishing and maintaining connection with others that we have the resources to work through and resolve our anger.[3]

     So again, Jesus’ solution to our being possessed by anger is not prohibitions: Don’t do this; or, Don’t do that. The solution is to engage in what ethicist Glen Stassen calls, transforming initiatives: specific, concrete, positive actions that are designed to deliver us from the vicious cycles and internal programs that so often dictate our actions and reactions. Transforming initiatives are how we participate in God’s grace, in God’s way of deliverance. Let me illustrate the practice and power of transforming initiatives with one final story.

Thaddaeus and Me

When Thaddaeus was five or six years old, he was outside, and I was doing something in the house. Suddenly, Thaddaeus burst through the front door, slammed it shut behind him, and said to me, “You should be outside.” Well, I grew up in a home where children didn’t talk to their parents that way. I became incensed immediately, and I was just about to go down that old familiar road of, “You shouldn’t talk to me that way,” when something inside told me to just stop and think. I did, and it occurred to me that I had just come in from outside. So I said to Thaddaeus, “Were you scared because you suddenly realized you were alone?” His whole demeanor changed. His anger disappeared; he nodded yes; and then he came into my arms. I apologized, and said I was sorry for coming inside without telling him because I know he doesn’t like to be outside alone.

     I like to tell this story because, for me, it is a perfect illustration of how a transforming initiative has the power to transform anger into compassion and connection. When I stopped and listened, not to what Thaddaeus was saying, but to what lay behind his words, my anger disappeared and was replaced by a wellspring of compassion. In turn, this compassion freed me from my need to insist on my own way, and it allowed me to connect with Thaddaeus at a deeper level, at the level of his feeling of fear and his need for safety. In other words, when I was quick to listen and slow to speak, I found that I was slow to anger. And more to the point, I was granted the grace to perform a transforming initiative that resulted in our reconciliation.

     Had I responded out of my original anger, I know that Thaddaeus and I would have carried on shouting at each other, each insisting that the other person listen. And had I simply told myself not to be angry, that would not have worked either because I would not have had the awareness to recognize what was going on for Thaddaeus. What I needed was a specific, concrete, positive action designed to connect with him; I needed a transforming initiative.

     In the end, one small initiative on my part transformed my anger and Thaddaeus’. In one simple act, we were both set free from the vicious cycle of anger, and we received the gift of reconciliation. That’s what I would like to leave you this morning, a vision for transforming our anger into compassion and reconciliation, a course of action that has the power to break the internal programs of anger and resentment that so often dictate our actions and reactions.

     So, as ambassadors of Christ, as ambassadors of reconciliation, let’s get out there and transform our world. Let’s begin by transforming our relationships and our daily interactions with others one transforming initiative at a time.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

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[1] Vandana Kohli, “World Anger Day: What’s Driving Our Rage?,” http://ibnlive.in.com/news/world-anger-day-whats-driving-our-rage/286174-2.html.

[2] Glen H. Stassen, Just Peacemaking: Transforming Initiatives for Justice and Peace (Louisville, Ky.: Westminster, 1992), 37. “The Sermon on the Mount describes specific ways we can participate in the new initiatives God is taking. They are not harsh demands but methods of practical participation in God’s gracious deliverance” (38).

[3] Notice who Jesus directs his words to. Not to the one who is angry, but to the one who is the object of someone else’s anger. “If you remember that your brother or sister has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go; first be reconciled to your brother or sister, and then come and offer your gift.”

Delivered on Sunday, February 16th, a.d. 2014

at St. John's Episcopal Church (Wichita, Kansas)

The Scriptures

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The Candlemas of Our Salvation: On Jesus, Candles, and Groundhogs

Year A • The Presentation of Jesus in the Temple

Malachi 3:1–4 • Psalm 84 or 24:7–10 • Hebrews 2:14–18 • Luke 2:22–40

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Sermon available on YouTube by clicking here,

as an Audio File by clicking here,

and as a PDF by clicking here.

The Sermon

Dear God, make known to us the salvation that

you have prepared in the presence of all peoples. Amen.

The Feast of the Presentation of Jesus — a.k.a., Candlemas

Today is the Fourth Sunday in the Season of Epiphany, but we are not actually celebrating the Fourth Sunday of Epiphany. Instead, we are celebrating the Feast of the Presentation of Jesus in the Temple. This is a feast of the church year that is always celebrated on the Second of February. So, whenever the February 2nd falls on a Sunday, the Feast of the Presentation takes precedence.

     But why February 2nd? Because it is forty days after Christmas, forty days Mary gave birth to the Lord and Savior of the world. According to legislation laid down in the book of Leviticus, if a woman conceives and gives birth to a male child, she shall be ritually unclean for seven days. Afterwards, she enters into a period of purification that lasts for another thirty-three days. So for forty days after the birth of a baby boy, a woman couldn’t touch anything holy and she couldn’t enter the temple. At the end of the forty days, she would come to the temple to offer a sacrifice for her purification (Lev 12). That’s what Mary is doing at the outset of today’s Gospel. Her period of purification has concluded, and she has come to the temple to offer the appropriate sacrifice. So that’s why the Feast of the Presentation occurs on February 2nd.

Candlemas

By the way, this feast goes by another name, Candlemas. It used to be that this was the day of the year—when all the candles that were to be used during the coming year —were blessed. So it was known as the Feast, or the Mass of Candles, thus Candlemas. The first time ever heard the term was when I was attending the University of St. Andrews in Scotland. The Fall semester was called Martinmas, and the spring semester, Candlemas.

Groundhog Day

I should add that over the years some superstitions have grown up around Candle-mas. For example, there is a proverb about the weather that goes like this:

If Candlemas Day be fair and bright
      Winter will have another fight.
If Candlemas Day brings cloud and rain,
      Winter won’t come again.

Or, how about this little proverb from Germany.

The badger peeps out of his hole on Candlemas Day, and if he finds snow, walks abroad;     but if he sees the sun shining, he draws back into his hole.

Does any of this sound familiar? Clearly these proverbs regarding Candlemas stand behind our American tradition of Groundhog Day. But enough of superstitions, let’s get back to the gospel where we might find the truth that will challenge and inspire us.

The Holy Family

Luke’s account of the presentation of Jesus in the temple discloses some interesting and important details about the Holy Family.

     First, it emphasizes their commitment to the Old Testament covenant with Yahweh, the God of Israel. No less than five times are they described as acting in accordance with the Law, and these references to their covenant obedience serve as bookends to today’s episode. So in the opening scene, reference is made to “their purification according to the law of Moses,” to their presentation of their firstborn “as it is written in the law of the Lord,” and to their offering a sacrifice in accordance with what is “stated in the law of the Lord” (Luke 2:22­–24). Then, in the closing scene, they return to Nazareth having “finished everything required by the law of the Lord” (2:39).

     This is a faithful family; this is a religious family. This is the family that raised and nurtured the salvation of God—Israel’s Messiah and the world’s Light. Because we know Jesus to be the incarnate Son of God, I think we often overlook the fact that he grew up and matured like any other human being. He didn’t benefit from any spiritual shortcuts. He didn’t get to skip puberty. He didn’t get to skip stages of emotional, social, or spiritual development. He had to pass through every one of them as we do. This, I think, is part of the point that the author of Hebrews is trying to make.

Since the children [God has given him] share flesh and blood, he himself likewise shared the same things.... For it is clear that he did not come to help angels, but the descendants of Abraham. Therefore he had to become like his brothers and sisters in every respect, so that he might be a merciful and faithful high priest in the service of God,.... Because he himself was tested by what he suffered, he is able to help those who are being tested (Hebrews 2:14–18).

There is no doubt in my mind that Jesus’ growth and development—his character, his strength, his wisdom, his compassion—everything that endeared him to God and human beings, all of it was shaped by his family, this holy, yet ordinary family who was committed to the covenant—to the worldview, values, beliefs, practices, and traditions of the people of God. That’s not to say that God was not at work in Jesus’ life. Far from it. It is to recognize that God’s work in Jesus’ life was in part—and I would say—was in large part mediated by Jesus’ religious and faithful family. This is something worth reflecting on.

     The second thing that today’s episode reveals about the holy family is their social status. They are poor. This, of course, comes as no surprise to Luke’s readers. In his account of Jesus’ birth, we are told that the infant king was wrapped in bands of cloth and laid in a feeding trough. Not exactly the clothing and furnishings of the rich and famous, nor even of the middle class, for that matter.[1] In today’s episode, we find additional evidence that Jesus’ family belonged to the very large peasant class of first-century Palestine. The clue is Mary’s sacrifice. According to Leviticus, when a mother’s days of purification are completed, she is to bring two offerings to the temple: a year-old lamb for a burnt offering and a pigeon or a turtledove for a sin offering. The law states, however, “if she cannot afford a sheep, she shall take two turtledoves or two pigeons” (Lev 12:8), which is exactly what Mary does.

     The holy family is poor; they are economically and socially challenged, which makes what is said about Jesus all the more remarkable. How is this child, this son of a carpenter, going to bring glory to Israel and salvation to all the nations of the world? How is this eldest son of a poor family, with all of the obstacles and limitations that entails, going to turn the world and its systems of injustice upside-down? This is something worth thinking about. Jesus was the firstborn of peasants. The Son of God is a peasant. That’s why there is no fanfare when this infant king comes into the temple, into his temple. Recall the words from the prophet Malachi:

See, I am sending my messenger to prepare the way before me,
and the Lord whom you seek will suddenly come to his temple (Mal 3:1).

“The Lord whom you seek will suddenly come to his temple.” Malachi said he was coming, but nobody was watching, so nobody noticed when the young Master entered his temple. Well, that’s not exactly true. In my sermon on Christmas Day, I said that God entered the world quietly, that he wanted to keep his arrival a secret. But I also noted that God isn’t very good at keeping secrets, especially where his Son is concerned. So, God let it slip to some homeless shepherds that his son had been born in a stable. Likewise, when God’s six-week-old Son makes his first trip to the temple, his first visit to his heavenly Father’s house, God let it slip again. He just had to let a few more people in on the secret. And, unlike the shepherds, we know their names.

Simeon and Anna

Simeon and Anna are not related, but they share a number of things in common. They are both quite old (and God sure seems to like old people). They are both aware of what God is doing in the world, having attuned themselves to the movements of the Spirit. And, they are both awaiting the redemption and restoration of Israel. Recall, at the time of Jesus’ birth, God’s people had been subject to foreign domination for the better part of five hundred years, and most recently they had endured six decades of foreign occupation by the Roman legions. So it is not surprising that Anna—eighty-four-year-old, animated Anna—goes about the temple precincts, telling anyone who will listen about this special child. After all, she was alive before the Romans came; she knew what life had been like. And it is of no great wonder that Simeon is so overjoyed having finally setting his eyes on the one God has appointed to deliver his people from their bondage. Simeon picks up the child and blesses God for he knows that what he holds in his hands is God’s salvation, not only for Israel, but for the whole world.

     But it is not all salt and light. Simeon blesses Mary and Joseph, but the words he speaks to Mary are filled with dark things to come.

“This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel,” he says, “and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed—and a sword will pierce your own soul too (Luke 2:34b–35).

For the past few weeks, as I have read and studied this passage, as I have allowed it to play in my thoughts and prayers, I have been repeatedly brought back to these portentous words of Simeon’s. And I am not exactly sure what to make of them. I mean, on the one hand, it’s fairly clear what Simeon talking about. When Jesus becomes older, he is going to make some waves. He is going to challenge some cherished traditions, and he is going to frighten and anger some very powerful people. He will be betrayed by one of his closest associates, he will be rejected by the leaders of his people, and they will deliver him up for destruction. And through it all, his mother will be there, watching in horror, unable to lift a finger. Surely, this is the sword that will pierce her soul. But… I wonder. I wonder if she will feel the prick of that unfeeling blade long before she sees her beaten, bruised, and bloodied son hanging from a Roman cross. I wonder. When Jesus turns twelve, he will stay behind in Jerusalem, and it will take his parents three frantic days to find him. And when they finally do, he will dismiss their anxiety with a matter-of-fact question, “Why were you searching for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?” Luke says that Mary treasured all these things in her heart, but I wonder if she noticed the sword among all those treasures.

Later, when Jesus is older, he will leave his hometown and moves to Capernaum. He will travel about the occupied region proclaiming the arrival of God’s kingdom. Mary will get concerned and come to visit him with her other sons. When they arrive, there will be so many people that they cannot get to him. When word reaches Jesus that his mother and brothers are outside wanting to see him, he turns to the crowd and says, “My mother and my brothers are those who hear the word of God and do it” (Luke 8:20). I wonder, will she feel the sword then?   

     And I also wonder, will we feel this sword? The author of Hebrews writes that “the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing until it divides soul from spirit, joints from marrow; it is able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart” (4:12). Well, Jesus is the Word of God, and Simeon said that he would “be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed”(Luke 2:). I wonder, are we among those whose inner thoughts will be revealed. I kind of think we are, because there have been times in my life where the inner thoughts of my heart were laid bare. Sometimes it’s been a pleasant surprise, but mostly it has been painful, at least initially. God shines the light of Christ into the dark recesses of our hearts. God already knows what he will find there, and so he is not shocked by what the light reveals. We, however, we who are good at hiding from ourselves, we can become frightened by what is revealed. Like the groundhog who sees his shadow and so retreats into his borough, we are tempted to retreat back into our boroughs, hoping to hide ourselves until winter has passed.

     But that would be a mistake, for that would be to miss out on the salvation that awaits us. For when the light of Christ reveals the darkness of our hearts, it is not to judge us as unworthy, nor is it to punish us; it is, in fact, to set us free. For only that which is revealed by the light of Christ can be healed. The light of Christ is the light of salvation. It is a sword that cuts without wounding. It is a sword that heals, for it is a sword wielded by our Creator in grace, mercy, and love.

     And so, on this day of Candlemas, on this Feast of Lights, let us celebrate the Light that shines into the darkness, which the darkness is not able to extinguish. and with Anna and Simeon, let us rejoice in the salvation that God through Christ has prepared for all the world to see.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

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[1] Sometimes, we assume that Jesus must have grown up in the middle-class, because he was the son of a carpenter. But in first-century Palestine, there really wasn’t much of a middle-class to speak of, and in any case, carpenters weren’t associated with the middle class, but with the peasantry. Why? Because if you carried on a trade that wasn’t connected to agriculture, it was a possible indication that your family had at one point lost its ancestral lands.

The Scriptures

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too light a thing • isaiah, jesus, king

Year A • Epiphany 2
Isaiah 49:1–7 • Psalm 40:1–12 • 1 Corinthians 1:1–9 • John 1:29–42
(Scroll Down for the Texts of the Scriptures)

Sermon available on YouTube by clicking here.

Sermon available as a PDF by clicking here.

The Sermon

It is too light a thing that you should be my servant

      to raise up the tribes of Jacob and

      to restore the survivors of Israel;

I will give you as a light to the nations

      that my salvation may reach to the end of the earth.

                                                   — Isaiah 49:6  

Three Men

Today, I want to tell the stories of three men—two known, one unknown; one from the recent past; two from the distant past, all from a different place and time, and yet, all who lead lives of remarkably similarity.

The Servant of Isaiah

Let’s begin with the story of the one unknown. But in order to understand his story, we need a bit of background. In the ot, God chose the Israelites to be his special, covenant people. Actually, it’s not so much that God chose Israel, as it is that God formed Israel. It all began with an unlikely couple, Abraham and Sarah. Unlikely, because out of all of the people in the world God could have chosen, God selected this childless, elderly couple to be the progenitors of a new nation, a new people who would be the means of restoring all people to a right-relationship with God.

The Lord said to Abram[ham], “Go from your country and your kin­dred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you. I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you, and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and the one who curses you I will curse; and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed ” (Genesis 12:1­–3).

Abraham and Sarah were chosen for a purpose that went beyond themselves. They were blessed to be a blessing. As the years passed, God made good on his promises of land and offspring. And as each new generation arose, God reaffirmed his covenant with his people. Over time, God’s chosen people grew in number, though not always in faith. Despite their stubbornness, their failures, and general unfaithfulness, God remained faithful. God never forgot them, nor abandoned them. That’s not to say that God turned a blind eye to their disobedience. Quite to the contrary, God often dealt more severely with his chosen people than with other nations. After all, Israel was the key to the restoration of all people. So when God’s people wandered from the path, when they broke the covenant, by going after other gods and by treating their neighbors unjustly, God sent prophets to call Israel back to being Israel. Sometimes the people heeded the prophets; many times they didn’t. On two dramatic occasions, after generations of disobedience, God sent his people into exile. For example, in the sixth century b.c., the Babylonians came out of the east and attacked a disobedient Judah. They destroyed Jerusalem, razed the temple, and took many of Judah’s leading citizens as captives back to Babylon, where they lived for generations as exiles.    

But as I said, God never abandons his people, not forever anyway. In Isaiah 40, a ray of light shatters the darkness and chaos of judgment. God sends a message of forgiveness and hope to his exiled children:

      Comfort, O comfort my people,….
      Speak tenderly to Jerusalem,
            and cry to her
      that she has served her term,
            that her penalty is paid,
      that she has received from the Lord’s hand
            double for all her sins (Isaiah 40:1­–2).

The exile is over, and a new exodus is in the works. God is going to come and lead his people back home. It is at this point that we encounter one whose name has been lost to history. He introduces himself in today’s reading from Isaiah.

      Listen to me, O coastlands,
            pay attention, you peoples from far away! (Isaiah 49:1a).

This is a curious introduction, for this servant of the Lord has been sent to Israel, yet he addresses himself to the nations of the world, to “you peoples from far away.” The reason for this becomes clear in verses 5 and 6, when the servant describes his vocation.

      And now the Lord says,
            who formed me in the womb to be his servant,
      to bring Jacob back to him,
            and that Israel might be gathered to him,
      he says,
      “It is too light a thing that you should be my servant
            to raise up the tribes of Jacob
            and to restore the survivors of Israel;
      I will give you as a light to the nations,
            that my salvation may reach to the end of the earth.”

Did you hear that last part? The servant has a twin vocation. He is not only responsible for restoring the fortunes of God’s people, he is also an agent of God’s blessing so that all the nations of the world, not just Israel, might experience God’s salvation. Of course, this was not only the servant’s vocation, it was also Israel’s vocation. But I can’t imagine that the other exiles were jumping at the chance to bring God’s blessings to the nations, especially not to the Babylons of the world who had oppressed them. In fact, there is some indication later on in Isaiah that this servant had to bear this burden alone, that he was rejected by his own people, and that he suffered great hardship because of them and on their behalf. Isaiah writes:

He was despised and rejected by others;
      a man of suffering and acquainted with infirmity;
and as one from whom others hide their faces
      he was despised, and we held him of no account.
Surely he has borne our infirmities
      and carried our diseases;
yet we accounted him stricken,
      struck down by God, and afflicted.
But he was wounded for our transgressions,
      crushed for our iniquities;
upon him was the punishment that made us whole,
      and by his bruises we are healed (Isaiah 53:3­–5).

The life of this unnamed Servant of the Lord serves as a witness to “the redemptive power of unearned suffering,”[1] and his life became the template for another, and it is to his story that we now turn.

Jesus of Nazareth

After fifty years of living as exiles in Babylon, the Jews were finally allowed to return to their homeland. When they arrived, they rebuilt the walls of Jerusalem, and they rebuilt the temple. But neither the city nor the temple ever came close to reflecting their former glory. More significantly, the Jewish were not allowed a king, only an imperially appointed governor. So while the people of God had returned to the Promised Land, things were not back to normal. They had a measure of self-rule, but they were by no means autonomous. They were, in short, exiles in their own land.

And that is how they lived for the better part of five hundred years. They saw imperial landlords come and go. After Babylon, it was Persia, and then Alexander the Great with the Greeks, then it was the Egyptians (the Ptolemies), and then the Syrians (the Seleucids). Now during this time period, the Jewish people did enjoy a century of independence from about 167 to 63 b.c., but that ended when the greatest of these empires, the mighty Roman Empire, stomped onto the world stage and began conquering everything in the name of peace. So you can well imagine what the Jewish populous was thinking when, after ninety years of oppressive Roman occupation, the son of a Jewish carpenter, with great power and authority, began proclaiming, “The kingdom of God is at hand; the Empire of God is at hand.”

Jesus of Nazareth took his message to the masses, traveling about the countryside, demonstrating the presence of God’s Empire by performing powerful deeds. And it was obvious to many what was happening, or so they thought. Jesus’ healings were a sign that God was going to heal his people and restore the kingdom to Israel. Jesus’ exorcisms of unclean spirits signaled that God was going to rid the land of unclean Gentiles. Jesus drove out demons, surely he could drive out the Roman legions. “Finally,” they thought, “God is going to forgive us and restore our fortunes. The end of exile is at hand; a new exodus is dawning.” These are the things on the minds of Andrew and his companion when, in today’s gospel lesson, Jesus turns and says to them, “What are you looking for?”

But when these disciples come and see what Jesus is up to, when the crowds come and see, they get something different than they were expecting. On the one hand, Jesus says to them, “Blessed are you who are poor for yours is the kingdom of God. Blessed are you who hunger, you who weep, you who are persecuted, for you will be filled with food and laughter and you will be rewarded” (cf. Luke 6:20–23). This is exactly what they are hoping for, but then, in the very next breath, Jesus says, “But I say to you that listen, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you” (Luke 6:27–28). Really? We who have lived under the yoke of foreign occupation, you want us to love our enemies? You want us… to love… the Romans? You want us to bless them, pray for them, and do good to them? Really Jesus?

Jesus did come to restore the kingdom to Israel, but the kingdom he had in mind was of a very different sort. As Israel’s Messiah, Jesus came to gather together God’s chosen people. He came to call Israel back to being Israel, back to being the means by which God would bless all peoples everywhere. But centuries of foreign domination and occupation had warped Israel’s sense of identity and vocation as the people of God. Some Jews—like the Pharisees—took a defensive posture. They sought to renew the nation by separating themselves from the Gentiles, by constructing barriers that would keep them holy and unstained by the world. But there’s a problem: how can you be a conduit of God’s blessing for other peoples if you cannot even sit down and share a meal with them. Others—like the Zealots—were more militant. They sought to restore Israel’s fortunes through armed revolution. Their battle-cry was, “No king but God.” But you cannot be the light of the world with a sword in your hand. You cannot love your enemies at gunpoint.

Like Isaiah’s unnamed Servant, Jesus carried out a bivocational ministry. It was too little a thing “to restore the survivors of Israel,” he was also given “as a light to the nations, so that [God’s] salvation might reach the end of the earth” (Isaiah 49:6). Jesus knew that Israel had been chosen for a purpose, to know God and to make God known throughout the world. Yet, Israel’s nationalism and revolutionary zeal kept them from fulfilling their vocation, so Jesus had to show them the way. The kingdom of God was at hand, and God’s people had to repent if they were going to participate in it.

So Jesus calls the crowds to follow his way of being Israel, which is the way of nonviolent resistance, the way of suffering and death. “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” (Mark 8:34­). In part, Jesus was saying, the Gentiles are not your enemies. The Romans are not your enemies, even if they are the ones holding the swords and putting up the crosses. Your enemy is the demonic power behind Rome, the power of darkness that animates Rome’s unquenchable thirst for power, prestige, and wealth. But, you are not Rome; “you are the light of the world.” If you want to participate God’s Empire, then put down your sword, take up your cross and follow me.

Of course, in the end, Jesus was the only one who heeded his call. Jesus took up his cross and confronted the powers with the sword of his mouth, and it cost him his life. Yet, after his resurrection, after the pouring out of the Spirit at Pentecost, his followers began to walk in his ways. Though there were some initial struggles, they took on the mantle of being the light of the world. They endured beatings and other hardships as they carried God’s salvation to the ends of the earth. Jesus’ way of being Israel had transformed them, and they in turn began to transform the world, proclaiming the good news of Jesus Christ in word and deed, some­times with their very lives.

And it wasn’t just the first generation of Christians who were so transformed and transforming. There have been many who have followed the way of Jesus, and the world has benefited. It is to the story of one such follower that we now turn.

Martin Luther King, Jr.

As you know, tomorrow is a national holiday set aside to honor and celebrate the youngest man to ever receive the Nobel Peace Prize. Martin Luther King, Jr. was awarded the Nobel in 1964 for “his dynamic leadership of the Civil Rights movement and [his] steadfast commitment to achieving racial justice through nonviolent action.”[2] This past week, I re-read one of Dr. King’s books, which I was first introduced to in seminary. It’s entitled, Why We Can’t Wait, and in it, Dr. King details what he calls the Negro Revolution of 1963, which took place in Birmingham, Alabama, while the nation and the world watched. The book includes Dr. King’s famous “Letter from a Birmingham Jail,” which was a letter… he wrote while in a jail… in Birmingham. (I just wanted to make that clear.) He wrote the letter in response to a statement published by eight, white Alabama clergymen, who called the nonviolent public demonstrations “unwise and untimely.” They regarded King as an outsider, and argued that the most appropriate place to right racial injustice was “in the courts and in negotiations among local leaders, and not in the streets.” Dr. King respectfully disagreed, and in his letter and in his book, he put forth his arguments as to why Blacks could no longer sit back and wait patiently while other men set the timetable for their freedom.[3] He writes:

My friends, I must say to you that we have not made a single gain in civil rights without determined legal and nonviolent pressure. Lamentably, it is an historical fact that privileged groups seldom give up their privileges voluntarily. Individuals may see the moral light and voluntarily give up their unjust posture; but, as Reinhold Niebuhr has reminded us, groups tend to be more immoral than individuals.
      We know through painful experience that freedom is never voluntarily given by the oppressor; it must be demanded by the oppressed.[4]

As I read these words this week, I was struck by the parallels between Dr. King’s situation and those of Jesus and Isaiah’s Servant. All three were members of an oppressed, racial minority. All three felt empowered by God to lead their people to freedom. And all three armed themselves with weapons of nonviolence. Why? Because the vision of freedom that guided these extraordinary men was an expansive, generous, and all-inclusive freedom. The justice they sought was not for their people alone, but for all the parties involved—oppressed and oppressor alike.

In the fight for justice, people are never the enemy, but rather the systems of injustice that foster fear, hatred, and prejudice.[5] As Dr. King writes, our

attack is directed against forces of evil rather than against persons who are caught in those forces. It is evil we are seeking to defeat, not the persons victimized by evil. Those of us who struggle against racial injustice must come to see that the basic tension is not between races… The tension is at bottom between justice and injustice, between the forces of light and the forces of darkness. And if there is a victory it will be a victory not merely for fifty thousand Negroes, but a victory for justice and the forces of light. We are out to defeat injustice and not white persons who may happen to be unjust.[6]

And since people were not the enemy, violence was not an option for the civil rights movement; the only alternative was nonviolence. Citing Dr. King again:

Nonviolence is a powerful and just weapon. It is a weapon unique in history, which cuts without wounding and ennobles the man who wields it. It is a sword that heals. Both a practical and a moral answer to the Negro’s cry for justice, nonviolent direct action proved that it could win victories without losing wars.[7]

As a weapon social transformation, “nonviolence seeks to defeat injustice, not people. Nonviolence chooses love instead of hate.” [8] And because it is grounded in love for others, it has the power to transform the face of one’s enemy. Returning to Dr. King:

To the negro in 1963,… [nonviolence] served his need to act on his own for his own liberation. It enabled him to transmute hatred into construc­tive energy, to seek not only to free himself but to free his oppressor from his sins. This transformation, in turn, had the marvelous effect of changing the face of the enemy. The enemy the Negro faced became not the individual who had oppressed him but the evil system which permitted that individual to do so.[9]

For Dr. King and the other civil rights leaders, it was “too light a thing” simply to free Blacks from racial injustice, the perpetrators of injustice must also be set free, and for this we must be forever grateful.

Too Light a Thing

There is still much work to be done to transform our world. As Christians, we are called to know Christ and make Christ known. It is too light a thing to only be concerned with our private spirituality, we must also be about the public task of working for justice in all human relationships. As citizens of the present kingdom of God, we are ambassadors of reconciliation, and so our weapons, our tools of the Christian trade, must be consistent with those ends. So let us give thanks for those, who like Isaiah’s Servant and Dr. King, have shown us how to walk the way of Jesus. Let us learn from them, and let us pray that the Holy Spirit will inspire and empower us to do the same, so that the salvation of our God might reach the ends of the earth.

      In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

---

[1] Nelson and Malkin, The Only Alternative: Christian Nonviolent Peacemakers in America, 81.

[2] http://crdl.usg.edu/events/mlk_nobel_prize/?Welcome

[3] King, Why We Can’t Wait, 84.

[4] King, Why We Can’t Wait, 80.

[5] In the words of the Apostle Paul, the Civil Rights struggle was “not against enemies of blood and flesh, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers of this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places” (Eph 6:12).

[6] Nelson and Malkin, The Only Alternative: Christian Nonviolent Peacemakers in America, 79–80. Quoting from King, “Nonviolence and Racial Justice” (1957).

[7] King, Why We Can’t Wait, 26.

[8] “Nonviolence seeks to defeat injustice, not people. Nonviolence chooses love instead of hate” (Nelson and Malkin, The Only Alternative: Christian Nonviolent Peacemakers in America, 79).

[9] King, Why We Can’t Wait, 38.

The Scriptures

RCL, Year A, Epiphany 2

Isaiah 49:1–7 • Psalm 40:1–12 • 1 Corinthians 1:1–9 • John 1:29–42

The Collect

Almighty God, whose Son our Savior Jesus Christ is the light of the world: Grant that your people, illumined by your Word and Sacraments, may shine with the radiance of Christ’s glory, that he may be known, worshipped, and obeyed to the ends of the earth; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who with you and the Holy Spirit lives and reigns, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

Isaiah 49:1­–7

            1          Listen to me, O coastlands,

                                    pay attention, you peoples from far away!

                        The Lord called me before I was born,

                                    while I was in my mother’s womb he named me.

            2          He made my mouth like a sharp sword,

                                    in the shadow of his hand he hid me;

                        he made me a polished arrow,

                                    in his quiver he hid me away.

            3          And he said to me, “You are my servant,

                                    Israel, in whom I will be glorified.”

            4          But I said, “I have labored in vain,

                                    I have spent my strength for nothing and vanity;

                        yet surely my cause is with the Lord,

                                    and my reward with my God.”

            5          And now the Lord says,

                                    who formed me in the womb to be his servant,

                        to bring Jacob back to him,

                                    and that Israel might be gathered to him,

                        for I am honored in the sight of the Lord,

                                    and my God has become my strength—

            6          he says,

                        “It is too light a thing that you should be my servant

                                    to raise up the tribes of Jacob

                                    and to restore the survivors of Israel;

                        I will give you as a light to the nations,

                                    that my salvation may reach to the end of the earth.”

            7          Thus says the Lord,

                                    the Redeemer of Israel and his Holy One,

                        to one deeply despised, abhorred by the nations,

                                    the slave of rulers,

                        “Kings shall see and stand up,

                                    princes, and they shall prostrate themselves,

                        because of the Lord, who is faithful,

                                    the Holy One of Israel, who has chosen you.”

Psalm 40:1–12 • Expectans, expectavi • BCP 640

            1          I waited patiently upon the LORD; *

                                    he stooped to me and heard my cry.

            2          He lifted me out of the desolate pit, out of the mire and clay; *

                                    he set my feet upon a high cliff and made my footing sure.

            3          He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our God; *

                                    many shall see, and stand in awe, and put their trust in the LORD.

            4          Happy are they who trust in the LORD! *

                                    they do not resort to evil spirits or turn to false gods.

            5          Great things are they that you have done, O LORD my God!

                        how great your wonders and your plans for us! *

                                    there is none who can be compared with you.

            6          Oh, that I could make them known and tell them! *

                                    but they are more than I can count.

            7          In sacrifice and offering you take no pleasure *

                                    (you have given me ears to hear you);

            8          Burnt-offering and sin-offering you have not required, *

                                    and so I said, “Behold, I come.

            9          In the roll of the book it is written concerning me: *

                                    ‘I love to do your will, O my God; your law is deep in my heart.”‘

            10        I proclaimed righteousness in the great congregation; *

                                    behold, I did not restrain my lips; and that, O LORD, you know.

            11        Your righteousness have I not hidden in my heart;

                        I have spoken of your faithfulness and your deliverance;*

                                    I have not concealed your love and faithfulness from the great congregation.

            12        You are the LORD; do not withhold your compassion from me;*

                                    let your love and your faithfulness keep me safe for ever..

1 Corinthians 1:1–9

Paul, called to be an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God, and our brother Sosthenes,

To the church of God that is in Corinth, to those who are sanctified in Christ Jesus, called to be saints, together with all those who in every place call on the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, both their Lord and ours:

     Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.

     I give thanks to my God always for you because of the grace of God that has been given you in Christ Jesus, for in every way you have been enriched in him, in speech and knowledge of every kind— just as the testimony of Christ has been strengthened among you— so that you are not lacking in any spiritual gift as you wait for the revealing of our Lord Jesus Christ. He will also strengthen you to the end, so that you may be blameless on the day of our Lord Jesus Christ. God is faithful; by him you were called into the fellowship of his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.

John 1:29–42

John saw Jesus coming toward him and declared, “Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world! This is he of whom I said, `After me comes a man who ranks ahead of me because he was before me.’ I myself did not know him; but I came baptizing with water for this reason, that he might be revealed to Israel.” And John testified, “I saw the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove, and it remained on him. I myself did not know him, but the one who sent me to baptize with water said to me, `He on whom you see the Spirit descend and remain is the one who baptizes with the Holy Spirit.’ And I myself have seen and have testified that this is the Son of God.”

     The next day John again was standing with two of his disciples, and as he watched Jesus walk by, he exclaimed, “Look, here is the Lamb of God!” The two disciples heard him say this, and they followed Jesus. When Jesus turned and saw them following, he said to them, “What are you looking for?” They said to him, “Rabbi” (which translated means Teacher), “where are you staying?” He said to them, “Come and see.” They came and saw where he was staying, and they remained with him that day. It was about four o’clock in the afternoon. One of the two who heard John speak and followed him was Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother. He first found his brother Simon and said to him, “We have found the Messiah” (which is translated Anointed). He brought Simon to Jesus, who looked at him and said, “You are Simon son of John. You are to be called Cephas” (which is translated Peter).

Delivered on Sunday, January 19th, a.d. 2014

at St. John's Episcopal Church (Wichita, Kansas)