Loading...I am telling you up front this sermon is about politics in church. After the early service, a fan of mine pulled me aside and said, “Elizabeth I love you, but…”
Here I go again! As I do, I bring to mind the meaning of the word “politics” — originating from high school Latin meaning people. Now, politics is anything to do with the governance of people. Everytime I hear the news I have to remind myself of the original definition. If I didn’t I would be led to believe that politics is defined as heated bantering about of opinions on the administration of the United States, only.
Or possibly defined as the arena for lawyers to tie the law around one another’s necks — the Pharisees in Mark’s gospel would appreciate the correlation between the state of our state and the state of theirs.
These are all the reasons to to gird ourselves for graciousness when we sit down together to talk about matters of government. [We can talk about government of our nation, the polity of our church, and the notion of governing our own personal habits, or lack thereof.]
I have not forgotten my promise to host a fireside chat about politics in church when the Bible in 90 Days class concludes. When it does, I am dedicating the first Sunday of every month to topical conversations and the first one will be about politics. If there is any one left after that fireside chat, the remainder of these Inquirer’s Classes will be about the Episcopal Church, topics such as our mission and how to become a member.
I am going to talk about politics because we have been granted the freedom to do so. And I am going to talk about politics in church because ours, especially St James, is a unique community for engagement of potentially inflammatory conversations. (After all Jesus specializes in heat seekers.)
Everyone in this room is mature enough and has something to offer in the conversation. And we need one another. If you disagree with that, then bring your disagreement to the conversation. Be aware that I come to the table with a Jamesish agenda and a John McCain spirit. A Jamesish agenda is one where I’ve decided I need to hear what you have to say; so I am going to be quick to listen and slow to speak. A John McCain kind of spirit is a largeness of Spirit — as one speaker described the deceased statesman.
What does a large spirit look like? Henry Kissinger said it’s all about hope. Meghan McCain said it’s defined by Love. Bob Schieffer said forgiveness.
He said forgiveness when commenting on the scene of Cindy McCain and McCain's children laying a wreath at the Vietnam Memorial where John McCain regularly visited. Many acknowledge how he helped restore relations with Vietnam by visiting the sites of his former captivity in the country.
"John McCain, through forgiveness, accomplished what we were unable to do with all our weapons of war," CBS News' Bob Schieffer said.
That statement halted me in my tracks. All our weapons of war make me feel kinda secure, especially when I hear about how many weapons of war everyone else seems to have. After all, isn’t it the job of a government to provide weapons. Why is that again? And it was me who insisted that we insert a prayer for our armed forces entrusted with wielding weapons of war to the “Prayers of the People”.
None of the reports of weapons or the wisdom of those who wield them has given me a truer sense of security than forgiveness. When I look into the eyes of the one who hurt me, who wounded me beyond recognition, only forgiveness gives me the security for which I long.
Armed only with forgiveness I am liberated both from anger and the need for self righteous self-justification. How do I experience the forgiving power of grace? I treat it like it’s a job — like 40 hours a week, 9 to 5. I do all the things the experts say: by reading abook, by practicing exercises, etc., etc. But what cinches forgiveness together for me, like that breastplate Paul was talking about in the reading from Ephesians last week — what transforms my insecurity to security is praying aloud the names of those who hurt me — Every. Single. Day. Each name is a bee’s sting to me. Ouch. And like bee venom, those prayers become my vaccination. Some wounds heal and are forgotten. Some start to ache when the barometer changes if you know what I mean. You know what I mean.
The commandments that were so important to the Pharisees who question Jesus in Mark’s gospel, those commandments were designed to serve like weapons — against other nations and shields, protecting Israel from destruction and death. Those weapons ultimately failed to provide the security needed.
There is still a greater weapon than the law. It’s the weapon Jesus took with him when he died on the cross of Calvary. Love. The greatest power and hope and heart of the world was laid to rest after a senseless and bloody battle. And it was a personal battle too wasn’t it. True wars are. That’s why God lost it. Losing was the only way for all the things the law couldn’t prevent: fornication, theft, murder, adultery, avarice, wickedness, deceit, licentiousness, envy, slander, pride, folly, all that — the shield of centuries — all the things the law couldn’t prevent were laid to rest, lost.
When God raises Jesus an entirely new list of governables fills the old empty space. Resurrection makes a place for generosity for generosity’s sake, truth, meekness, self-understanding, freedom, perseverance, tongue-bridling, purity, orphan and widow caretaking. When God raises Jesus from the dead all those works James mentions are raised above all else. Instead of fretting about how people are treating one another — the law helps me fret — we get to celebrate the way God treats us — people worth dying for.
God in Christ surrenders to the sting of death and from the site of the sting is poured out forgiveness in all its redeeming power. If you wake up in the morning wondering, “Is today the day I will feel the redeeming work of God?” ask yourself if it hurts just like a bee sting. If it does, you may just be living in a politically volatile life, the life of a God who governs people with the administration of forgiveness.
