4th
Sunday after the Epiphany; Yr. C, February 3, 2013
Jeremiah
1:41-10; Psalm 71:1-6; 1 Corinthians 13:1-13; Luke 4:21-30
Sermon
preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church
On
Sunday, March 7, 1965 600 civil rights marches headed toward Montgomery from
Selma, AL. They were staging a peaceful
march in support of black rights. They
had only walked six blocks out of Selma when they were stopped at the Edmund
Pettus Bridge. State and local police
refused to let them pass over the bridge and ordered them to disperse. The group stopped as one of their leaders
made a request. Hosea Williams, of the
Southern Christian Leadership Conference, asked if he might “have a word” with the officer in charge. Major Cloud refused to speak to him and gave
the group a two-minute warning to disperse.
Williams asked again, “Can
I have a word?” As Senator John Lewis explains it, after a
minute or so, the major ordered the troops into position and they advanced on
the marchers with tear gas, bull whips and billy clubs. That was Bloody Sunday.[1]
Senator
John Lewis was among the leaders on that march and was standing at the front of
the group. As troopers rushed in he was
hit twice in the head with a billy club.
The first blow knocked him to the ground. He was hit the second time as he was trying
to get up. The crowd of law enforcement
officers at the bridge that day weren’t
alone. They had been joined by a posse
of others. I think they expected a
fight. I think they thought that once
the blows started to fall, the marchers would fight back, and they would need
all the reinforcements they could get.
But that didn’t
happen. The marchers didn’t fight back. There was no riot.
Isn’t that how Jesus responded to the
violence in our gospel story today. He
walked through it. We pick up the story
where we left off last week. Jesus is
still in the synagogue after having read from the scroll. After telling those gathered that the reading
had been fulfilled in their hearing. Everyone
spoke well of Jesus. They liked
him. They knew him. They start to think about what he’s told them. Wasn’t
he Joseph’s
son, the carpenter’s
son? Talking about him the way we might
talk about Abby Wambach after the women’s
soccer team won the gold medal at the Olympics.
But we’ve
watched Abby Wambach grow into an amazing soccer player. We don’t
know what the people saw of Jesus as he grew up in Nazareth. We don’t
hear about that part of his life. Could
they have predicted this announcement coming from him? Had he showed such promise as a child? Might they be wondering if this was really
the same Jesus they knew? Maybe
wondering if what they’ve
been hearing is really true? It seems
like Jesus suspects this kind of a response, because he doesn’t stop talking.
He
tells them, “And
you will say, ‘Do
here also in your hometown the things that we have heard you did at Capernaum.’” He thinks that they will expect to see some
of the “miracles” he’s performed in other places … healings, exorcisms, anything to
prove that it’s
all true. But Jesus isn’t
going to satisfy their curiosity.
Instead, he tells them that he hasn’t
come to help them. In fact, if they look
back at their own salvation story, they’ll
discover that God has often sent prophets to those outside the Jewish circle … to a widow in Zarephath, to a Syrian
officer.
It
would be one thing if the congregation became annoyed, like anyone who is
refused something she might want. It
would be different if they had just gone away angry because they weren’t getting something they felt they
deserved. But the crowd in the synagogue
becomes enraged. They turn into a violent mob. The first three definitions for rage in
Webster’s
dictionary contain the word violent, or violence. Some might argue that the Greek word used in
this instance could be translated differently, but there’s no arguing that violence was
involved. They drive Jesus out of town, and
lead him to the brow of a hill so they can hurl him off a cliff!
I
don’t
get the feeling that Jesus meant to incite a riot. He was just stating the truth. A truth that is our truth as well. Jesus came for those who did not already know
God, to reveal God’s
presence to them. It’s kind of ironic to me, that the ones
who already knew God could be so easily enraged by the One who was called to
reveal God to others …
simply because he was willing to cross cultural boundaries. But then I am reminded of the violent
response to the marchers at Selma, and I remember that we do not like to cross
boundaries. Our love has limits, limits
we may not recognize consciously. When
those outside our comfort zones, those on the fringes of society, are offered something
that doesn’t
benefit us individually, do we feel put upon? Cheated? Burdened?
Do we focus on what it will cost us, and forget to consider what it could
mean for the one being helped? Sometimes. Just look at the news. Some of us even get enraged enough to stop
peaceful marchers from crossing a bridge, and we beat them with billy
clubs. Not quite the same is driving
someone to the edge of a cliff to toss them over, but pretty close.
Jesus
walks through it all. He doesn’t get sucked in. He doesn’t
contribute to it by fighting back. He
goes on his way. He leaves the group to
struggle with what’s
been said. He does not strike back.
Let
me be clear about what I am NOT saying.
I am not saying that we should never fight for something, or someone. There are lots of things to fight for, and
there are times we need to step in to stop harm being done; but rarely have I
seen rage produce a positive result.
Acting on rage is akin to giving in to insanity. When we are enraged, we are out of our minds. You cannot reason with rage. You can only deflect it. You can let it blow by you. You can stand with the defenseless who are
plunked in the midst of it, but you cannot overpower it with anything but your
own rage. Don’t
go down that road.
The
marchers in Selma must have felt rage rising in them. They must have felt betrayed and humiliated,
but they did not give into it. Many did
not have the power to literally walk through the beatings without being harmed,
but spiritually they did. They remained
committed to a peaceful march. They did
not respond with violence. If they had,
I think the whole movement would have lost its power. It would have lost momentum, especially from
many white supporters.
Two
weeks after Bloody Sunday, Martin Luther King, Jr. joined a group of walkers
for a symbolic March from Selma to the bridge.
Several weeks later, after receiving protection from the court, a group
of several thousand began the long march from Selma to Montgomery. They walked an average 12 miles per day, and
slept on farm fields at night. By the
end of the five day march, 25,000 people had joined the walk. Several months later, President Johnson
signed the Civil Rights Act into law.
Peace in the face of rage produced those amazing results. What courage those civil rights leaders had.
The
Church exists for those who do not already know God, to be living icons of
Christ’s
loving presence in the world. Surely, we
support and love one another because we belong to this particular church, but
the challenge to all of us is to support and love those we do not yet know … who may be looking for God … who may be waiting to meet Jesus on
the outside in a world that is filled with rage.
The Episcopal
Diocese of Rochester in cooperation with The Gandhi Institute is participating
in A Season of Nonviolence this Lent. It offers
us all the opportunity to explore our relationship with violence during this
season of repentance and reflection. The
Season calls us to participate in daily exercises and educational events to
increase peace and understanding in our communities. Though A
Season for Nonviolence has not been intentionally practiced in our faith
tradition, it is very much in keeping with our faith in God and our love of
Christ that leads us to the conclusion that nonviolence is a life-giving and
essential element of our faith journey in the church. I invite you to participate in this multi-faith
effort, an effort also officially recognized and proclaimed by the City of
Rochester and Monroe County.
Take time in the coming weeks to reflect on what
tempts you into rage, and how love might call you to act differently. Jesus did not walk away from the troubles of
his time, and neither should we. Jesus
walked with the suffering. Jesus offered
hope to those who were oppressed. Jesus
resisted culturally accepted violence that others could or would not … we can
too. May the love of God lead us all to
the peace that passes all understanding.
Amen.
[1] Confrontations for Justice. John
Lewis – March from Selma to Montgomery, “Bloody Sunday,” 1965 on
Eyewitness: American Witness from the American Archives, www.archives.gov/exhibits/eyewitness/html.php?section=2.
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