Loading...From the Gospel of John: For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son to the end that all who believe in him should not perish but have everlasting life. 3:16 And the Word became flesh and lived among us. 1:14 From his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace. 1:16
I’m using these words which describe our Lord’s Incarnation to lay a foundation for what I am about to say. Incarnation is often treated as only belonging to Christmas and after 12 days we can pack it up with the creche and not think about it.
Incarnation is also the mysterious dogma to which we hold that God takes on our sin-stained humanity for the purpose of granting us his resurrection life. Come back at Lent and Easter when we spend more time talking about how the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness doesn’t overcome it. John 1:5 For today we are going to talk about a dark place — the human heart, and some dark things.
Righteousness and contempt. They go together — like peanut butter and jelly — or Chips and Salsa.
My motivation to visit Las Cruces, New Mexico this year is a story that begins with heartfelt compassion, journeys through righteousness and contempt and ends with Incarnation.
It started back in January, when all federal employees were furloughed for 35 days (December 22, 2018 until January 25, 2019.)
My sorority sister from the University of Oklahoma, Delta Gamma chapter, told me how meaningful it was for her that the Lutheran church in her town hosted family nights where federal employees and their families were fed and encouraged during those tough times.
Tiffany’s husband still went to work even though he did not bring home a paycheck. As 2019 wore on, I tracked more and more news stories about Border Patrol, the refugee crisis around the world, and especially the crisis at the southern border of the US, and of course the phrase “separation of families.”
I’m going to take a moment here. My observation about myself and others when the phrase “separation of families” is used is that the room immediately becomes 10 degrees hotter. I have been the recipient of both tears and tirades toward God when the treatment of immigrants, especially immigrating children, is raised. I acknowledge the heat and ask you to moving forward with me in this sermon.
My conversations with Tiffany increased, especially when a mainstream news story would immediately connect one immigrant family’s plight to an elected leader.
Tiffany began sending me stories from local sources and from her husband’s experiences. I began to smell a stew of ingredients in the hotpot of my heart. It didn’t smell appetizing.
The first ingredient of course is Righteousness: How could people use vulnerable people as political pawns!
The second ingredient is contempt: Surely there is a solution if only people are willing to participate. I caught myself making this “condescending sigh” sound often. Then I would hold my breath. Then in the hotpot of my bubbling stew I detected a new flavoring: impatience.
I began to grow weary of well intentioned friends openly weeping about the evils of government and the helplessness of those seeking asylum. I had lost my appetite for the stew of righteousness and contempt.
Paul’s second letter to Timothy tells me that the only person who is righteous is God. God can assign righteousness to people like a crown, people who are longing for the coming of Jesus. Loads of other places in the Bible, Paul and others, tell me that the only people worthy of contempt are humans. Brrr… now that’s a cold contrast to throw on the heat of the moment.
Many of my friends will want to fist fight me about me — about who gets to be considered righteous or not. Righteousness is as hot a topic as “separation of families.” For me, the righteousness and contempt cold war was thawed with one ray of sunshine: the Incarnation.
Once I surrendered my need to understand, explain, solve, I simply felt warmed to the notion to be there. Visit. Go. That’s all. If I could take Tiffany out for dinner, at least she might feel someone is here for her. That’s all. I didn’t expect to do anything or bring anything. Just be. As one writer says, “There is no simple or immediate way to discern the right response without a relationship.”
Robert Lutpon (48) http://www.thetravelingteam.org/articles/toxic-charity Since I couldn’t fathom the right response I would focus on the relationship.
In Luke’s gospel, Jesus tells a parable about two different approaches to prayer. He tells it to people who pray faithfully, even professionally, and most importantly, people who trust their prayers. It’s prayer that got me to spend money I couldn’t spare to travel to a friend I wasn’t sure I would even be able to see once I got there, and follow some odd inclination from the incarnation.
And this inclination is based on a story about a teenage mom who has a baby with a dubious parentage and when he grows up, uses his claims upon divinity to get himself executed. Odd inclination indeed.
Odd or not, God does God’s best work just by showing up. The Incarnation gets Jesus executed for crimes he didn’t commit. And his sacrifice secures our salvation.
My visit to New Mexico reinforced my opinion that I can never ever be righteous enough to earn God’s love. My humanity and only my humanity makes me eligible for God’s grace.
I want to add one last ingredient to whatever stew you’ve got on your spiritual stovetop about immigration at the southern border: miraculous equanimity.
I asked the same question separately to two people of completely different backgrounds. One is a border patrol officer. One is a pastor. They both gave me an identical answer verbatim.
When I asked, “In a media climate which has politicized the work you do here how do you navigate your duties responsibly?” Patrol officer and pastor both said, “I have to ignore all the media and politics and focus only on the person I meet as a human being.”
In the midst of all that separates families, God becomes a family member. Becoming human is how God gives all humans the freedom to be human in the most human sense of the word.
Amen.
