Sunday, May 06, 2018

Unwise and Untimely


Sermon for SMHP, Year B, Easter 2, April 8, 2018
                19When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” 20After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. 21Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” 22When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit. 23If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.” 24But Thomas (who was called the Twin), one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. 25So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord.” But he said to them, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.”
                26A week later his disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” 27Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.” 28Thomas answered him, “My Lord and my God!” 29Jesus said to him, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” 30Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. 31But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.

          This is a painting of an event.  Want to guess what?
          This is the fifteenth station of the cross at St. Mary’s Basilica, Minneapolis, MN.
          If you know it’s resurrection, you can see it…maybe…
          One of the things that John’s gospel in particular makes clear is that it can be difficult to see and comprehend the Risen Christ.  If you were here for the Easter Vigil, you heard the text which precedes this one, in which Mary Magdalene goes to the tomb.  What happens when she sees Jesus?
          The tomb was empty.  So she assumed NOT that he had risen from the dead…but that someone had stolen his body.
          Then she saw two angels…and assumed they had taken Jesus.
          Then she saw Jesus himself…and assumed he was the…gardener.
          Finally he called her name and she realized who he was—her rabbi…the one who had taught her with his words and with his body.
          Later that day, Jesus appeared to his disciples.  He appeared in the room with them—a room that was locked, John tells us.  Appeared and greeted them in the way of Middle Eastern peoples:  “Peace be with you.”  “Shalom ala CHEM”  “As-Salaam alaykum.”  This is still the standard greeting for speakers of both Hebrew and Arabic.
          Jesus appeared inside a locked room and announced peace.  Then he showed them his hands and his side.  And it was then—John tells us—that they recognized him.  When they told Thomas—the one brave enough to actually leave the room—about it later, he too demanded to see the marks before he would recognize Jesus.
         
          How do you think we would do if we were in that room?  Would we recognize him? 
          Do we believe that he dwells among us today? 
          Do you believe there are signs of the risen Christ around us today?
          How do we recognize him?  What does our text teach us about recognizing Christ in our midst?
          He bears wounds.
          He announces peace.
         
          We don’t always see Christ in our midst, do we?  In fact, sometimes we avoid him.  We careen around the wounded ones in our midst, fearful that they will want something from us.
          We ignore the ones who announce peace, because they might be asking us to make changes, to stand up and speak out.
          The risen Christ in our midst is not a neutral being.  He comes to announce that the kingdom of God is in our midst, but it is still being built. 
          And maybe we might all want to grab a hammer.  Or some a hammer and some a nail.
          Sixty-five years ago, a black Baptist minister began to preach a gospel of peaceful resistance to the white supremacy which had governed our nation since its inception.  He stood in the midst of a troubled nation and demanded that it face its past.  He stood in the midst of other folks who were now called “civil rights leaders” and asked them to risk their own bodies in order that other bodies might one day be free of racism.  He spoke of a wise Indian prophet named Mohandes Ghandi, and of Henry David Thoreau, and he devised a system of nonviolent civil disobedience which spoke truth to power in a new way, a profound and efficient way.
          [Slide]  Thousands caught his vision, and began to participate in the freedom rides and the boycotts and the marches.
          Many more did not.  The might of the status quo pushed back against Dr. King with anger.  And with dogs…and fire hoses.  King and his followers were beaten and even killed.  And still they marched—bearing their wounds and announcing peace for all.
          Then came the friendly opposition.  The calls for caution from persons sympathetic to the cause, but captivated by the allure of the status quo.
           On December 1, 1955, Rosa Parks had refused to give up her seat on a Montgomery bus, sparking a boycott which lasted nine months and nearly crippled the Montgomery public transit system. 
           On June 5, 1956, the federal court in Montgomery ruled that any law requiring segregated bus seating was a violation of the Fourteenth Amendment, which guaranteed “equal protection under the law” to all native and naturalized citizens of the United States.
           The courts were taking up other matters of discrimination, but their progress was slow, and Dr. King and other civil rights leaders continued to stage nonviolent protests in Alabama. 
           In January of 1963, eight clergymen in Alabama had issued a bulletin they called “An Appeal for Law and Order and Common Sense,” which stated that change was being addressed in the courts of Alabama, and people should wait for that change to take effect.  In the meantime, they wrote, “the decisions of those course should be peacefully obeyed.” 
            In other words, progress is imminent.  Well, not imminent.  But promising.  Well, not promising.  But there will be progress.
           Someday.  Until then, y’all be patient.
           Dr. King didn’t wait for someday, and the movement for civil rights in Alabama continued, with marches and actions and civil disobedience.  So in April of 1963, the clergymen issued a letter directly to Martin Luther King.  The courts have been making some progress on civil rights, they wrote, and “responsible citizens have undertaken to work on various problems that cause racial friction and unrest.”
[Slide]
However, we are now confronted by a series of demonstrations by some of our Negro citizens, directed and led in part by outsiders. We recognize the natural impatience of people who feel that their hopes are slow in being realized. But we are convinced that these demonstrations are unwise and untimely.
           They urged all citizens of Montgomery, which was then the focal point of the civil rights movement, to refrain from joining in with public actions led by Dr. King and others.
           [Slide.  Slide.]
           In their midst was a vision of Christ, wounded by years of slavery, segregation, and lynching.  Wounds visible to anyone who simply reached out to touch them.
           But like most of the country, they refused.  They got up and locked the doors, certain that someone else—a federal judge?  The Congress?  Jesus? –would solve this problem without the inconvenience and disarray of public actions.
           [Slide]  In August of that same year, Dr. King stood on the National Mall and captivated the nation with the words “I have a dream.”
           But before that, he was in a jail in Birmingham, where he used a borrowed pen and every scrap of paper he could find to write the finest epistle since St. Paul’s letter to the Romans.  In that letter, he spoke with understanding to the white clergymen, but noted that when people were in pain, caution must not rule the day. [Slide]

“Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere,” King wrote.  “We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.”
           The risen Christ stood in our midst in Birmingham and Montgomery and across this nation, announcing peace and showing the wounds of years of inequality and inequity.  Fifty years ago last week, Dr. King was taken from us, but his spirit lives on, every time we heed the call to speak of peace and gaze upon the wounds in our midst.

Poor people’s campaign.

It is my hope, people of God, that when they speak of us someday, they say that we were unwise and untimely.  And we preached the good news of Christ, arisen.

Amen




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