Sermons

Rainbow Blessings

John Wilkinson                            Third Presbyterian Church
February 11, 2007                    Jeremiah 17:5-10/Luke 6:17-26

A year ago at this time, I was traveling from presbytery to presbytery reporting on the actions of our Theological Task Force. The standard presentation would happen; I would work through the recommendations and proposals. When all was said and done there would oftentimes be opportunity for question and answer. And inevitably this question would be raised: “Can’t we just settle this now and move on?” And as politely and as patiently as I could, I said, “It’s not that easy.” And then I would say that I will live with this issue, this concern of human sexuality for the rest of my career, for the rest of my life, as will, no doubt my children and theirs.

And I still think that’s true. But I think it’s a mistake for us to think that that’s the only concern about which that will be the case.

Last week we were reminded again of the complexity of Christian-Jewish relationships. And that’s just with our friends in the temple down the street. Islam adds another layer of complexity, as do all the other religions about which we know very little, layers made even more complex by the current war. I think it was Martin Luther King, Jr. who said that the nation is at its most segregated at eleven o’clock on a Sunday morning.

It is perhaps the most persistent and pernicious theme in American history, that of racism. But we realize in this place, anyway, that it’s more than just a historical theme about which books are written. But it’s at the core of who we are, our broken humanity, a fundamental human reality, fear in our hearts and fear of the other.

If you are to read the paper or watch the news, if you were to pay attention at all you’d realize quickly that every difficult issue we face has a racial undertone or a racial overtone, whether it’s public education, or poverty, or immigration, or the war itself.

About ten years ago, the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church issued an aspiration policy that by the year 2010 fully 20% of the membership in our denomination would be racial and ethnic. It’s a wonderful declaration that we can’t even think about now, because of our internal struggles. But I wonder how we would do so, even if we had the time and the energy.

So mostly and primarily on a day like today I’m not sure what to say or what to do. We rightly have celebrated Martin Luther King’s birthday a few weeks ago. The TV and the newspapers and the Internet have talked about The Dream, which is all good and well, but it feels like we’re glossing over the deeper issues, getting further and further away from the real crisis of the civil rights movement. And we now find ourselves in Black History Month, which is good as well. And this may simply be a rhetorical question, but how much are we who are white paying attention? I’m not sure what to say or what to do.

But I do know there are biblical truths and theological touchstones that the Spirit is calling us to attend to today. It seems to me that the clear and consistent biblical vision is one of unity -- not uniformity -- but unity. Remember the story of that great day of Pentecost when the Spirit came down. People understood each other in spite of their languages and their cultural differences. They weren’t all made to speak the same language or have the same experience, but they understood one another. And Paul --- even Paul --- says that there’s no Jew or Greek, nor slave nor free, nor male nor female, but all are equal and all are one.

I remember being taught as a child --- perhaps you do as well --- the American story, and the notion of “melting pot.” I don’t know if that’s the way things are taught these days. Perhaps it’s a good image, perhaps not. It implies a kind of uniformity and sameness. I remember one time Jesse Jackson (who by the way wore this robe --- which is a great story that I’ll tell you some other time) talked about the rainbow. It is biblical, after all. Undergirding the notion of the rainbow is a covenant that we are bound together, one to another, even as we are bound to God. The covenant seems more than a little broken.

But whatever the image, whether it is a mosaic or a quilt or a rainbow or a melting pot, there is a clear and consistent vision, so much so that it’s important to say that diversity isn’t wishful P.C. thinking, as some would suggest, but it’s a gift from God and a gospel mandate, and we do damage when we behave or believe differently.

We have shared the Beatitudes this morning. Usually we hear Matthew’s version, today we get Luke. It is unfair of a preacher to read into any biblical understanding, and we do that all the time with the Beatitudes, but perhaps there is a platform and a springboard to have this conversation.

Jesus says the kingdom of God includes those who are poor, and hungry, which is a reminder of God’s preferential option and should be a reminder of our agenda about poverty and hunger. Blessed are those who weep, he says, those who are hated, excluded, reviled.

There are times in our history when those words have been used to soften the status quo. Things are bad now, but you just wait! Your reward is coming in heaven. And it seems to me that that’s an unacceptable interpretation, particularly for those who foster the exclusion. But rather, the Beatitudes are a radical call for all of us to transform reality a call to us to continue to work and perhaps with greater diligence on the matters and issues that have been important to us in our past and are now.

Hunger, housing, education, violence in the city, including direct services, but including advocacy and systemic change as well. Every time we offer food to someone, or provide an evening shelter, or tutor, that we be even more aware of the racial dynamics in all that we do.

I believe that the spirit is calling us to learn.

We are experiencing the great Robert Ray Gospel Mass today. Our, I think, predominately white choir is not trying to be who they aren’t [“Amen” is heard and the congregation laughs], but by the grace of God and the prodding of Keith Hampton, they are expanding who they are. And we can’t do this once and say, “Well, that was interesting,” and then revert to the things as they used to be. Because once the Spirit moves you to a new place, you need to stay there and then keep moving.

It’s obvious that religion expresses itself in many ways, many styles, many contexts. One of our invitations, I think, around this place is to remove any artificial impediments we might have constructed that prohibit a complete experience or a more diverse experience. And we are also reminded how many stories there are that we simply don’t know. But because we are called to unity in this great diversity, we are compelled to know black music, black history, the great stories of the black church. They are for all of us to know, not only if we are black.

And then I believe the Spirit is calling us to build relationships.

I visited an African American worship service recently where my friend is the pastor. They go quite a bit longer than we do, by the way. Preaching is a little bit different. A little less monologue, a little more dialogue. I can’t admit to being ready for that quite yet! But sitting in those pews with those brothers and sisters I realized how very close we are… and how very far away. Scripture, prayer, music, sermon, an invitation to coffee hour, encouragement even to attend committee meetings --- how close we are and yet how far. We’re called to build relationships, neighbor to neighbor, person to person, church to church. And so you encourage me and I will encourage all of us. It is a central biblical theme: Be not afraid. And so the Spirit this day is calling us to face our fears and move to a new place.

I couldn’t help but think a week ago if two Super Bowl teams can have African American coaches, why can’t we be ready for a black President? Or, at least, vote for or against Senator Obama for the content of his character or the coherence of his policies and not the color of his skin.

As we began worship this morning we sang “Lift Every Voice and Sing.” Perhaps it shook a cobweb or two off of you. It is a stirring moment if ever you are in a predominantly African American gathering and those first chords begin, and the entire congregation rises to sing what is sometimes called the Black National Anthem. It is confessional, a song of the difficulties of the past that we cannot forget. “Stony the road we trod, bitter the chastening rod,” bitter for those who received it and bitter, yes, for those who used it. But it is also a song of hope for the future. “Keep us forever in the path, we pray”.

That’s my hope and my prayer. I do not know how we will get there, but I do know that’s what we are called to do in this place, and that there is work to do, little things and big things all the time. We cannot pretend otherwise, and we cannot ignore, so that we will live with this conversation our whole lives. We cannot move to something else. The promise is that Jesus will bless us on the way, all of us, and that God will be glorified.

Thanks be to God.

AMEN.