On Sunday we examined Paul's Letter to the Romans and the instructions that he gave them on loving one another, loving their neighbors, and even loving their enemies. Why is this so difficult for us today?
The Water Is Wide (9/3/17)
Sermon
Good morning. The title of my sermon this morning is
borrowed from one of my favorite traditional songs. The tune for “The Water Is
Wide,” probably dates back to the 1600s and it originated in Scotland. Like
many traditional songs, verses were added over the years. One version of the
song begins:
The water is wide, I
cannot cross over,
Neither have I wings to
fly,
Give me a boat that can
carry two
And both shall row, my
love and I.
This version of "The Water Is Wide" was recorded by John Gorka.
This song popped into my head as I saw pictures and heard
stories about the flood waters in Houston. The scale of the destruction is
almost incomprehensible; the number of lives turned upside down is
unimaginable. Yet in the midst of the storm, people reached out to help one
another. First responders worked around the clock, while armies and navies of
volunteers also pitched in, so that people could be rescued from flooded houses
and apartments.
In the midst of the storm and the devastation, people
everywhere recognized their common humanity and came together. It made me feel
good. I’m sure a lot of you feel the same way. I’m also sure that the Church
will raise a lot of money and send a lot of mission teams down to Texas and
Louisiana to help with the recovery efforts. And I expect we’ll all feel good
about that, too.
At the same time, I’m both sad and angry that it takes a
disaster of this magnitude for people to come together. Sometimes it seems like
we’re living in houses that are surrounded by flood waters. We’re safe enough
in our own homes or neighborhoods, but we’re separated by waters of anger,
jealousy, hate, and indifference. The waters grow more toxic with each passing
year. The waters also grow wider each year, and it seems that we cannot or will
not cross over.
The Apostle Paul is also writing to a community that is
struggling with its own internal divisions and a sense of isolation. At that
time, there were as many as 40,000 to 50,000 Jews living in Rome.[1] Christianity was just a movement
within Judaism; it wasn’t even called Christianity then. Still, there were
tensions between those Jews who followed Jesus’ teachings and those who did
not. What’s more, there were Gentile converts among the Jewish Christians. This
caused additional strains within the community: Did the new converts have to be
circumcised? Must they eat only Kosher foods? Did they have to follow the Law
of Moses?
The Jews in Rome were not liked; they were outsiders. In
fact, in the late 40s, the Emperor Claudius ordered all of the Jews out of
Rome. Claudius died in the year 54; he was succeeded by the Emperor Nero, who
rescinded Claudius’ order and the Jews were allowed to return to Rome.[2] Still, they would have
been viewed with suspicion, if not outright hostility, by most of the populace.
For the congregation at Rome, the waters of separation and
hostility were deep and wide. There must have been great anxiety within that
community, much as there is great anxiety in our society today. And how does
Paul respond to that reality? He preaches love! He preaches a love that is not
bounded by wealth or social status. He preaches unconditional love for neighbor
and enemy, alike! He tells the congregation to support its members
unconditionally and to show that same love for everyone outside of the church,
too. Love. Just love. Period.
When they taught us to write sermons in seminary, they told
us to begin by explaining the problem or problems in the text. That is, start
with that thing in the story that’s difficult to understand, or that part of
the passage that doesn’t make sense to us today. It might be a word that’s
tough to translate into English. Or it might be some obscure bit of historical
context that makes it easier for us to relate to that piece of scripture.
But not here.
Not today.
Not in this section of Paul’s letter to the Romans.
Folks, there’s nothing mysterious here. There are no
problems in Paul’s Greek. Even the history of the congregation at Rome is
pretty straightforward. There is nothing in this part of the Letter to the
Romans that’s difficult to understand. No. The problem isn’t in this text, the
problems are in us!
We are not always genuine in our love for one another.
We offer conditional affection.
Sometimes we are lukewarm in our love; we serve the Lord
grudgingly.
We aren’t always hopeful or patient; we don’t pray enough
and we don’t always put our full trust in God.
Sure, we toss a few bucks in the collection plate every
Sunday, but do we really give all we can?
Sure, we say that all are welcome here at Rehoboth, but how
are we doing with that outside of church? Are we busy welcoming foreigners and
immigrants? Or are we chanting, “Build that wall!”?
Are we living in harmony with everyone and embracing the
poor? Or are we celebrating our wealth and bragging about how we’ve earned everything
we have? And are we busy upgrading our home security systems so nobody steals
our precious stuff?
Are we practicing humility or are we going on Facebook and
complaining about those stupid liberals or those awful conservatives?
Do we repay evil with evil? Do we seek to avenge every
insult?
Do we bless those who curse us? Do we feed our enemies?
I won’t speak for any of you, but I know that I fall short
on all of those scores. I know that I am prideful and that I hold strong
opinions and I’m prepared to defend myself in any argument. Did I mention that
I’m proud? I’m not saying that’s a good thing. It’s not one of my better
traits. I know that Jesus commands me to love my neighbor as I love myself. I
know that the Apostle Paul is laying down all the different ways that we’re
supposed to love our neighbor. I know this. Deep down, I know this, but I don’t
want to do it. I don’t want to do it because sometimes the rage feels good.
Sometimes I want to be smug and self-righteous. How about you?
When I watch the news, when I listen to talk radio, and
when I go on Facebook, I’m certain that I’m not alone. Anger and pride and
shaming, self-righteous rants are everywhere. God help us, I know I’m not alone. And I know that we
all need to change. But we all resist change. We seek out stories and news
networks that tell us we don’t have to change.
If we want to cross over the flood waters of anger and
jealousy and hate and indifference, then we must practice grace. Grace is the
forgiveness that God extends to us, through Jesus Christ. Grace is neither
earned nor deserved. Yet grace is something we can participate in when we practice
Christian love for everyone.
Christian love is one of the overarching themes of Paul’s
Letter to the Romans. This whole passage is about the practice of grace:
- Grace is practicing hope, when hope seems futile.
- Grace is extending hospitality to strangers, outsiders, and foreigners.
- Grace is offering prayers and blessings for those who curse you.
- Grace is practicing community with the poor and needy.
- Grace is forgiving others, even if they don’t deserve it.
Grace begins with
forgiveness, but if we’re to practice grace, we have to go further. Forgiveness
is only the start. To practice grace is to invite your enemies to the table,
where you provide them with food and drink. The practice of grace is more than
providing charity to the needy, it is entering into a relationship with those
who have less. Grace is letting go of the hurt that prevents us from forgiving
those who have harmed us. Grace is letting go of the identity we form when we
are hurt by others.
I have said before that we see our own brokenness reflected
in our politics. We see very little grace practiced by our politicians, so I’d
like to close with a story of a politician who practiced forgiveness and grace.
I’m speaking of Senator John McCain. Now I’m not old enough to remember the
Vietnam War, but I grew up during an era in which the wounds of our society
were still raw. There was a deep divide in our society between those who
supported the war effort and the troops and those who were opposed to the war.
Many students protested against the war and a few even went
to North Vietnam to speak out against the war. One of those protestors was a
young man named David Ifshin. At the time Ifshin spoke in Hanoi, John McCain
was a prisoner of war. In fact, McCain was forced to listen to that speech.
McCain spent five-and-a-half years as a prisoner of war. His captors tortured
him physically and emotionally. I can’t begin to imagine how McCain felt when
he heard that speech. The words “adding insult to injury” come to mind.
In the mid-1980s, when McCain was serving in the House of
Representatives, David Ifshin came to his office and asked McCain’s
forgiveness. McCain forgave Ifshin, but he went even further. McCain said to
Ifshin: “Look, I accept your apology; we’ll be friends, but more importantly, I
want you to forget it. Go on with your life. You cannot look back.” Why did
McCain forgive Ifshin? McCain said: “The forgiveness is ultimately less
self-destructive than the bitter desire for revenge, or perhaps there is no
such thing as revenge.” McCain offered
forgiveness and friendship to a man who had provided propaganda for the enemy.
What an amazing act of grace! McCain let go of the injury
that was done to him, and at the same time, he released Ifshin from any guilt
that he might have suffered. That act of grace was transformational; it changed
the relationship for both men and it changed them as individuals. The practice
of grace opens us up to transformation—the transformative love of God in
Christ. This is the love and the grace that the Apostle Paul instructs us to
practice. This is how we cross over the flood waters of anger and jealousy and
hate and indifference. Let us all live into this grace. Thanks be to God. Amen.
Benediction
Now, beloved, as you depart from this place, remember that
we are called to be the Church, the body of Christ in the world, the world
today. We are called to practice love and grace. This is how we may go forth
and be instruments of God’s love and peace and reconciliation. Do not return
evil for evil to any person, but know that we are all loved by God, and that we
are called to reflect that love to everyone we meet. Go forth and be the salt
of the earth and the light of the world. In the name of Jesus Christ, our Lord,
let all God’s children say, Amen!
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