SERMON

Proper 7

June 21, 2015

Christ Church, Stratford

It's been a while since I shared anything here on the blog. This post is worthy of sharing, some have said.

Preparation for this past Sunday was difficult for me. I knew the events in Charleston must not be ignored, in fact, probably ought to be a principal motif in our corporate prayer and worship; so I scrapped earlier ideas for a sermon gathered from our excellent and wise Bible Study group who are so helpful to me in disclosing what the Scriptures are saying to us in our particular place and context.

Turning toward Emanuel AME Church in Charleston, a town I used to visit frequently and used to know rather well, I found memories of growing up in Meridian, Mississippi, crowding in on my consciousness. Memories of seeing the Klan marching in white-robed and masked anonymity in front of the Winn Dixie on 8th Street; of hearing that a bomb had been left at the front door of the synagogue and that a passenger in the bomber's car being killed in a shoot out; of the FBI agents and reporters who swarmed the town after the disappearance of three young men, "civil rights workers," who were ultimately found to have been murdered with the involvement of law enforcement officers from both Meridian and nearby Philadelphia; recognizing that those three Martyrs of Meridian must have driven past my house which was on the usual route from Meridian to Philadelphia. All of that crowded in and nearly overwhelmed. And then to think that such evil is still so alive after so many years. My denial or naivete were strong.

Anyway, here is the sermon that emerged from that emotional flood of memories. Following the sermon, as you will read, we knelt for the Litany of Penitence, and we named in the Prayers of the People those who had died at Emanuel AME Church. We also sang a powerful postcommunion hymn to which I was led by my colleague Pastor Cathy Rohrs of Grace Lutheran Church in Stratford. Here is a link to the hymn:

http://www.carolynshymns.com/they_met_to_read_the_bible.html

Here is the sermon:

1 Samuel 17: (1a, 4-11, 19-23), 32-49

Psalm 9:9-20

Psalm 133

2 Corinthians 6:1-13

Mark 4:35-41

I

What a day they were having, Jesus and his friends. The crowd gathered beside the Sea of Galilee to hear Jesus had been large, so large that he had gotten into a boat from which he could keep them from pressing in on him as he talked to those gathered on the shore. His friends, Peter and James and John and the others had spent the day beside him as he taught and told those wonderful stories of his. As evening was coming, he suggested that his friends, his disciples, join him in the boat so that they could go over to the other side of the sea. It wasn’t so far, not much further than the distance from here to Port Jefferson. Maybe his friends thought Jesus was now going to spread his good news about the Kingdom of God to the pagans who lived over there on the other side of the Sea. Maybe he just needed to take a break. That was probably at least part of it, because as soon as they set sail for the other side of the Sea, he fell asleep, exhausted from so much passionate teaching and pouring out his heart to those who came to him.

But then came the storm.

Even today, I am told, storms come sweeping down through the mountains north of the Sea of Galilee and before you know it, they are on you we a fierceness that is truly terrifying and truly dangerous.

And where was Jesus? He was fast asleep.

His frightened friends roused him and said, “Master, do you not care that we are perishing?” "Do you not care?" This is the question that rings down through the ages. The question that is or has been on the lips of everyone of us -- or will be. “Master, do you not care that we are perishing?” He did care, and he rose from sleep and because he wields the power of the the Love of God, he calmed the storm. So powerful was his response that, hardly taking the time to be grateful, the disciples were afraid. He had saved their lives and they were afraid.

II

Nine children of God, some of them young, some of them old, lost their lives on Wednesday while they were participating in a Bible Study and Prayer Group. One whom they had welcomed into their place of worship and into their circle of study and prayer rose up and gunned them down. Watching the news coverage, I remember a quotation from someone in Charleston, or was it something written on a posterboard some was holding, that said, “God, if we are not safe in your house, then where?” It is just another way of saying, “Master, do you not care that we are perishing? Master, are you sleeping? Do you not care?” It was their question. It was the Disciples’ question. If it our question.

Trusting that we are not likely to hear a voice from Heaven providing a quick and easy answer, just how ARE we to respond? Yes, how are WE to respond. Because it IS our job to respond. I don’t know about you, but that thought makes me afraid. It is a very tall order and the magnitude and importance of the question makes me afraid that I am not up to the task. Fear not exactly like Jesus’s disciples were afraid, but afraid nonetheless. Afraid because WE are called to be Christ’s presence in the world. He has left the job of responding to us. It would be easier to stay asleep in the back of the boat, but times like these SHAKE US up and WAKE US up and demand that we respond to the question addressed to each of us: “Do you not care,” says the world to us, “that we are perishing?”

Where do I get this notion that the resonse is up to us? I get if from Jesus.

We must never forget that as he was preparing his friends for his departure and absence, Jesus said to them, “12Very truly, I tell you, the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these . . .  (John 14.12) If we believe, says Jesus, we will do the kinds of  things he did, and we will do even greater things.

So, what kind of answer can we give? Here is a powerful suggestion from Bishop Dan Edwards of The Diocese of Nevada:

[He says] It is too small a thing to condemn racism once again. It is too small a thing to condemn gun violence once again. It is unacceptable to attribute the violence against a Black congregation to a deranged lone gunman when systemic racism and systemic violence are pervasive and are being overtly acted out with increasing frequency. We must not "heal our people's wounds too lightly," as Jeremiah put it. Nothing short of the gospel can speak for us to this tragedy, a gospel not just proclaimed but acted on to usher in the Kingdom. We need a lot more Kingdom right now -- a lot more justice in the distribution of resources and opportunities, a lot less racist blaming of minorities to distract poor whites from the real forces behind their growing numbers and declining quality of life, a lot more curiosity and imagining our way into each other's situations, a lot less grudge clinging, a lot more hope for the common good, and a lot less scrambling to get our piece of the action. We need the gospel to infiltrate the real life of the

people, not just as individuals but as a people, and make the creation new right now.

In 1963, in Birmingham, Alabama, there was a church bombing that killed five Little Girls who were on their way downstairs from Sunday School. Preaching at their funeral, The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King said, “We must be concerned not merely about who murdered them, but about the system, the  way of life and the philosophy which produced the murderers.

III

You and I share a common humanity, and we claim Jesus as our Lord. Because we have promised to follow him and to walk in his ways, we must begin and begin again continually and over and over to do all in our power to address the evils or racism and classism and the materialism, plutocracy and greed that infect our society. We must do all we can by speaking only love, by living only compassion, by praying to be freed from every mean and lowly thought. We must do that in the workplace, in the home, in the grocery store, on the commuter train, on the internet and wherever else we find ourselves

What does that look like and how does that sound?

Bethane Middleton-Brown is the sister of DePayne Middleton-Doctor, who was martyred

last Wednesday. Addressing the presume shooter she said, “I acknowledge that I am very angry,

[but] [my sister DePayne] taught me that we are the family that love built. We have no room for

hating.”

Nadine Collier is the daughter of Ethel Lance, who was martyred last Wednesday. Addressing the presumed shooter she said, “You took something very precious away from me, I will never talk to her ever again. I will never be able to hold her again. But I forgive you. And have mercy on your soul. You hurt me. You hurt a lot of people, but God forgive[s] you, and I forgive you.

It looks and sounds just like that.

May the world see and know and feel that you and I do care that many are perishing. And may we wake from our sleep, not to fear, but to hope. And may we, with God’s help, do all in our power to proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ; to seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbors as ourselves; striving for justice and peace among all people, respecting the dignity of every human being.

None of us directly caused the events of last Wednesday, and yet we are caught in the web of society and culture and practice that keep perpetuating such atrocities. It is appropriate therefore to acknowledge complicity, our dependence on God and our desire to walk in the way of Jesus. Please turn in your Prayer Books to page 267 and join me in The Litany of Penitence, offering to God Almighty our confession, our humility and our trust in his love.