Once Again, on Islamophobia and Antisemitism...

Once again,

Islamophobia is not an antidote

to Antisemitism, and

Antisemitism is not an antidote

to Islamophobia.

It is fair to critique the actions, statements, and policies of political and military leaders.

It is deeply unethical to blame all members of a religion, ethnicity, race, nationality, or language group, for the actions of their political and military leaders, or to suggest that innocent civilians deserve to be harmed, or even eliminated from their homes without just compensation, due to the actions of their political or military leaders.

I sure wouldn't wish to be held accountable and harmed for the actions of some of the political leaders in my own country -- especially the leaders I didn't even vote for.

And honestly, I wouldn't even wish such harm to the people who did vote for the leaders in my own country whose actions, statements, and policies I abhor.

Of Mosquito Bites and Bridging Boundaries

The following is an expanded/narrative version of the children's message about healing, both from physical ailments, and from our own prejudices.

There's been lots more mosquitoes recently after all the rain, and I am covered in bites.  The trouble is, I'm kind of extra allergic to these bites, and the itch doesn't go away for a long time, no matter what I do.  (This seems like it gets worse every year, and I have a whole shelf full of remedies to try and make them less itchy, but nothing works really all that well. Seriously, they itch for days, sometimes weeks. I'd give just about anything for a really good mosquito bite treatment).

Still, there's so many worse things you could have than mosquito bites.  Leprosy, for example, is a horrible disease where your skin basically falls off and you have all these open sores on your body.  It's also really contagious.  We have antibiotics that treat it now, but back in Biblical times, they didn't have any good medicines for it, so people really suffered.  Learn more here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leprosy

This is the background of the story of Naaman.  Naaman was a wealthy and powerful man, but he suffered from leprosy.  No amount of money could cure him from his suffering.  His wife's servant girl, an Israelite, told her to send Naaman to the prophet Elisha in Israel in order to be healed.  So the king sent Naaman to be healed, along with lots of expensive gifts to buy his way to being healed. (In fact, the king of Israel was terrified that Naaman was coming, because he thought the king was playing a trick on him and setting a trap to attack him).  However, the prophet Elisha calmed his king's fears, and when Naaman came to the prophet's house, Elisha told him to simply wash in the Jordan and he would be healed.

Now, Naaman was angry, because he expected a more impressive treatment, something that would be worthy of his might and status.  However, his own servants finally convinced him to follow the simple instructions, and trust that they would work.  He washed in the Jordan and was indeed healed!

There were a couple kinds of healings that took place that day.  First, Naaman was healed of his leprosy.  Second, he learned that a simple man with a simple answer could be more powerful than all of Naaman's might and wealth.  Third, the king learned that a foreign ruler and his general could need his help, rather than only be ready to destroy him and his kingdom.  Not only physical ailments, but also prejudices, were healed that day.

Sometimes we are asked to help people we'd rather not, and we have all sorts of reasons for not wanting to. It's important to be safe, but also, it's important to examine our own prejudices and ask ourselves whether God is calling us to something greater than what we knew possible before.  It is just as much a miracle to heal human divisions as it is to heal any other kind of human suffering.  Thanks be to God!

With God’s Help

Luke 13:31-35; Genesis 15: 1-12, 17-18; Psalm 27; Philippians 3:17-4:1

Friends, last week as we began our Lenten journey together we talked about how it’s helpful to have companions in any journey, and while alone time can be good, not to try to face too many of life’s challenges alone.

This week, we hear this theme again, almost repeated in extremes:  Pharisees come to Jesus and warn him that King Herod wants to kill him, and tell him to get out of town.  Jesus laments that Jerusalem tries to ‘go it alone’ or survive on its own power, rather than listening to messengers of the Lord.  Abram laments to God that he has no children, and wonders what will become of him and his name after he dies--and God answers in an admittedly bizarre way.  And Paul asks the church members in Philippi to join him in rejecting the status quo, reminding them they are citizens of heaven as well as citizens of Rome.

All Alone?

I think these all describe situations where you could feel very much alone.  After all, if someone powerful wants you dead for doing what you’re doing, or maybe simply being who you are, then how could you not feel alone?  Or, if you’ve tried to do everything right in life, and feel like you have nothing to show for it--not even a family, you could feel very much alone.  Or, if everyone else around you only seems to care about things that don’t really matter, whether that means keeping up with the Joneses or simply ignoring the people who are suffering in the community, the people you see and are moved with compassion to help--well, you could also then feel very much alone against the world.  Even the Psalm talks about having an entire army camped out against you--and who wouldn’t be alone or feeling afraid in a situation like that?

So it’s probably not surprising that in all of these situations, the person who felt most alone turned to God.  Abram was not afraid to question God about why he had no children after so many years of trying to fulfill his side of his covenant with God.  Paul reminds those Philippians that they are not alone even if they are rejected by society around them, because they will be glorified in Jesus, and not forgotten.  And Jesus himself is bold to tell the religious authorities that would drive him out of Jerusalem, that he is confident of God’s task for him, and sort of tells those authorities what to go do with themselves, to put it mildly.  (After all, when we really read the Gospels, we realize Jesus wasn’t all that meek and mild!)

Taking Courage

So, what does this mean for us?  Are there times when we feel like we are all alone for trying to do what is right?  Are we afraid to take a stand, or to follow in the footsteps of Christ, because of what others might think?  Lately, I’ve heard the story of Rosa Parks come up multiple times, of the woman who sat down in the wrong section of a racially segregated bus, and refused to move--even when everyone else on that bus wanted her to.  That act had to have been terrifying--and yet, she changed the world.  Or, closer to home, I think of Pastor Woody Carey, and how in the early days of AIDS, he opened his arms and his church’s doors to give care and hold funerals for those who were sick and dying.  This was not at all acceptable during those times.  Yet--are there equally times where we might find ourselves compelled to act in ways that the world thinks are foolish, and yet we seek to transform this same world through our actions of love?  How about when we reach out to accept a person that our friends or social circles wouldn’t be caught dead with?  How about when we talk to another religious group that everyone loves to hate?

Let us ask ourselves, as we seek to grow in our own faith, or even as we seek to grow this church--where are those people today who are on the outside, who are likely feeling alone in this world?  Who are the people it seems foolish to associate with?  What may God be calling us to do in our lives, in our families and homes, in our workplace, or even at the gym, to promote actions of love rather than isolation?  I do not think that the answers are always evident or easy, but that in due time, and with God’s help, we may be able to see what we haven’t seen before, and to act in ways we never thought possible before.  May you be equally filled with that vision, that imagination, and that courage, to go forward in love.  Amen.

February 10, 2013--Transfiguration Sunday

February 10, 2013--Transfiguration Sunday
Luke 9:28-43a; Exodus 34:29-35; Psalm 99; 2 Corinthians 3:12-4:2

So, have you been to the mountaintop?  

Have you been to the mountaintop?  

It’s a question reminiscent of Martin Luther King, Jr., and relevant to our Scriptures today, stories of both Jesus and Moses having mountaintop encounters with the holy.  But, as you look back at your own lives, whether physically or spiritually, have you been to the mountaintop?

Some of us have.  This past summer, and many summers before, our youth group went up to the mountaintop at Montreat, and they still have photos on facebook of the beautiful and awe-inspiring views.  Others of us I know have been mountain-climbing either in this country or other places around the world.  I’ve been lucky enough to be on mountaintops from El Salvador to Greece to Germany to Lebanon to the Holy Land.  It’s difficult work, getting up a mountain, but it does do something good for your soul, I think.  You come back down having had an experience that not everybody can.

There’s a funny thing in the name Montreat, if we can go back there for a second, and maybe several folks in this room already know that it’s shortened for ‘Mountain Retreat,’ where some retired Presbyterian pastors thought it might make a nice resort community.  Or maybe they read their Bibles and thought of these Bible stories today and this came to mind.  Both points are true, and mountains are a pretty good place to get a retreat.
Whether on a mountain or not, times of retreat are helpful for us to re-connect with God--not because we believe that God lives on the mountain, but because it’s a place that is set apart, away from the rest of the world, where we can gain perspective, and maybe hear or see God a bit more clearly than we do in everyday life.

+We need times of retreat to help us come face to face in our relationship with God.  Time away from the routine gives us fresh perspective on which to view our other relationships and our work.

Recently I read that being in the presence of God is where everybody wants to be, and where everybody doesn’t want to be.  It’s both amazing to feel as though you’ve been in the presence of God, and a little uncomfortable.  One of the most intense retreat experiences I’ve had is being up at the monastery in Middleton, with my seminary classmates, for a 24 hour silent retreat.  Even though we were with each other physically, we were each left alone with our own thoughts.  It was clarifying for many of us, taking that break from term papers and internships and also social media; but it took us each a while to calm down and hand ourselves over to the experience and what it had to teach us.

(Most of us cannot go up a mountain too quickly; you’ll bash in the side of your van going up switchbacks, or run into problems with oxygen, or find out how out of shape you are, etc. Likewise, it takes time to adjust your pace to God's way of doing things).

Now, Moses had an incredibly intense experience up on that mountaintop; he was bringing down the tablets with the Ten Commandments.  Now, this was not Moses’ first time in the presence of the holy; you might remember that he also took off his shoes in front of the burning bush because God told him he was standing on holy ground.  That one came as a bit more of a shock to Moses.  But while he was reverent, he wasn’t scared away.  Then Moses was on the mountain to get the tablets more than once, since he’d been away maybe too long the first time, the people had a heck of a party while he was gone, and he smashed the first copy of the commandments out of anger and frustration.

But now Moses has some experience of how to handle himself in the presence of the Lord, as well as in the presence of the people.  He is gaining in understanding of both relationships.  And for some reason, this time when he comes down off the mountain, he is “positively glowing.”

And perhaps we can understand why the people are afraid.  The people have been in trouble before with Moses; they have also had some experience of the holy, through the angel of death which passed through Egypt during that first Passover, then the pillar of fire by night and cloud by day; the crossing through the Red Sea, and now this.  This really had added up to much more than the desert pilgrimage they’d bargained for.  Maybe they just didn’t know what else was going to happen next.  And maybe that encounter with the holy was simply too frightening and overwhelming for the average person.  But Moses had learned how to handle them by this point, and to calm their fears, and really had calmed his own, and he put the veil over his face, so that they could have some experience of the holy, without being totally overwhelmed.  And, as the story goes, this became an ongoing reality, by which the people had regular instruction from God through Moses’ encounters with the holy.  The people who were once slaves in Egypt, were now being formed into a renewed people, and eventually to return to the promised land.

The Gospel story that ties into this story of Moses’ transfiguration is Jesus with his disciples on the mountaintop.  And I often wonder, why did the disciples keep silent about what they had seen?  They had seen Jesus perhaps as God sees Jesus; they had been with this teacher for a little while, and now were learning something about him that was completely new and wonderful.  Did they think that nobody would believe them?  Did they think that they would never see something better in their entire lives?  Did they maybe just want to keep this experience to themselves?  We don’t really know.  But we do know that the moment of transfiguration ends; that Elijah and Moses depart, that the voice from the cloud tells the disciples to listen to Jesus, and Jesus takes them back down, off the mountain.

I do want to take a moment to talk about the demons in this story.  We have all sorts of ideas about what the demons Jesus heals might be in our world today.  Whether they truly are evil spirits, as was believed in the day, or if they are conditions such as schizophrenia, or epilepsy, or things we understand a little bit better today.  Although, often, the people with these conditions are treated little better by the rest of society than they were back then.

But why is Jesus angry before healing the boy?  The boy’s father says the disciples had already tried but couldn’t heal him.  Or perhaps because the crowd had gathered, gawking at the boy; perhaps because they were afraid of what “evil” the boy might represent; perhaps because the veils over their own eyes and understanding caused them to treat the boy as a freak, rather than regard him with compassion.  Jesus has some harsh words for the people gathered, but he turns and heals the boy.  The boy is restored to a place of dignity in the community.  Jesus moves on.

We shouldn’t give in to the temptation either to stay up on the mountaintop forever, retreating from the realities of the world, or to stay down in the valley, too heavily steeped in difficult realities, that we become hardened and lose touch with the holy.  (It happens all too often in the healing, helping professions--where people become burnt out, where they can no longer see the good in people, or in the system, because those blinders, those veils, have come down too thickly.)

And finally we have that letter from Paul to the Corinthians, where he is writing about the veils over Moses’ face, and how we too have veils over ours--ones that have been there from the time of Moses up until the present.  Paul is explaining why it’s difficult for faithful people to believe this experience of Jesus that the Corinthian community has had and how they have become a church congregation following Christ.  You may even hear in this second letter to the Corinthians a passage similar to the first, where we see in a mirror dimly and will then see face to face; now Paul is telling them they are seeing, and in the seeing, are being transformed in their own lives as well.  And even with everything going on in their lives, in their congregation, and their world--they have hope, hope which enables them to keep going.

We all have veils over our eyes with which we view other people, and with which we read the Scriptures.  We each bring the sum of our own prejudices and human brokenness to these encounters.  What veils do we carry today?

And yet, where the Spirit of the Lord is, there also is freedom.  God sees with eyes of grace-- whether God is looking at us and those uncomfortable places in our lives we’d rather have no one see; or whether God is looking at the people who make us uncomfortable and whom we would rather not see.  God’s eyes of grace are what give us the hope that we may be transformed in our own lives, to see others with eyes of love, and to practice that love as Christ’s disciples in the world.  It is not always easy work.  We will need times of rest and retreat, to re-connect with the holy in our lives.  We might be afraid to get back out there, but Jesus calls us down the mountain as much as he coaxes us up.  And we go--we get up tomorrow morning and go to that job, or that job interview, or that volunteer commitment or that tough family situation, or whatever it is, because we have hope, and hope gives us that boldness that we may not lose heart.

Thanks be to God!