Jeremiah 31:7-9
This morning, I had planned to follow up our
stewardship witness with a lovely sermon tying that Gospel reading about faith
(Mark 10:46-52) into our pledge campaign. Specifically, that sermon was about
tithing, which is something we don’t talk about enough in the Episcopal Church.
Then yesterday morning happened, and 11
people were killed by a gunman in a synagogue in Pittsburgh. Specifically, they
were killed because they were worshipping
in a synagogue in Pittsburgh – worshipping the One God according to the
tradition of their ancestors, who are also our
ancestors, by the way. This shooting isn’t just “tragic” or “senseless” or any
of the other weary adjectives we find ourselves using, over and over again, as
scenes of death spread across our land. This is anti-Semitism in its fullest
expression. This is terrorism. This is hate, incarnate.
And appallingly, this kind of violence is
becoming routine, like bedsores on a body politic unwilling to move itself. Even
here in our heartland, we’ve seen hate-based violence against innocent people
because of their culture, or their skin color, or their faith. An Olathe man
was shot in a bar simply for being South Asian. People were shot at our Jewish
Community Center simply for being there. And of course, if you look further
afield, the examples multiply. In Charleston, a white supremacist killed nine
people during Bible study, simply for being black. And now, at the Tree of Life
Synagogue in Pittsburgh, life will never be the same. As worshippers gathered
for Shabbat services – heartbreakingly, on a day of special joy as they
celebrated the naming of babies – a man revealed the heart of hate by shooting
innocents because of their faith.
As God’s family of St. Andrew’s, we join
the rest of our nation as we grieve the presence of evil. Those feelings may
also take their next steps, from grief to powerlessness to fear, as we come
here this morning to worship the same God they were worshipping at Tree of Life
Synagogue. Not very many years ago, no one could have imagined that coming to
church in this country might feel like putting yourself at risk. And yet, I
wonder how many of us heard the news yesterday, and watched the reports, and
wondered whether we’d be safe in our own house of prayer for all people.
I want to remind you that St. Andrew’s has
an armed security officer on site each Sunday morning. I say that in the hope
of reassurance, but I also say it with tremendous grief. Almost exactly a year
ago now we took that step, following the church shooting in Sutherland Springs,
Texas. We discussed it in Vestry and heard passionate opposition, faithful church
members saying that, because we are God’s people of hope and peace, we must witness hope and peace, rather than
reflecting the fear and violence of the culture around us. In the end, we chose
to use an armed security service, and I hope God understands why. Certainly,
yesterday’s violence reminds us why we made that awful choice. So, know that
the security officer will be with us in the weeks to come, too.
You should also know also that we’ve been
developing an emergency plan for our congregation, including what to do in
situations of imminent threat. We consulted with a local expert from another
Episcopal congregation; and our operations manager, Michael Robinette, has
experience with this from his service in the U.S. Navy Reserves. The emergency
plan will go to the Facilities Commission very soon for review and full
implementation.
But even as we grieve and feel powerless,
we need to remember the power that reigns over and against the violent choices
of a broken world. Millennia ago, the God who created the heavens and the earth
chose a people to be a missionary presence of divine love to the world. God
made a covenant with Abraham that all the nations would be blessed through his
descendants. God called Moses, the unlikeliest of heroes, to lead God’s people
out of slavery to a great empire and into their own land of promise. God united
those people under Kings David and Solomon; and in its best moments, the nation
revealed the blessing that comes when we walk in God’s ways. Over the
generations, the people and their leaders erred and strayed like lost sheep,
forgetting the Shepherd’s covenant. And eventually, they fell into exile – a
consequence, the biblical writers say, of turning to their own ways, and the
ways of the world around them, rather than holding fast to the commandments God
had given them. “Choose life, that you and your descendants may live,” Moses
had urged the people, “loving the Lord your God, obeying him, and holding fast
to him” (Deuteronomy 30:19-20).
But even after military defeat and exile
to a foreign land – even in the moment when faithlessness carried its greatest
cost – the God who is Love promised to bring them home, to make a new covenant,
commandments written on living hearts, not dead stone. We heard the promise
this morning, in the Old Testament reading that just happens to be appointed
for this Sunday. Hear again the powerful love of the Lord who redeemed a people
and keeps doing so, over and over again.
Thus says the Lord: Sing aloud with
gladness for Jacob … and say, “Save, O Lord, your people, the remnant of
Israel.” See, I am going to … gather them from the farthest parts of the
earth…; a great company, they shall return here. With weeping they shall come,
and with consolations I will lead them back … for I have become a father to
Israel. (Jeremiah 31:7-9)
Violence may threaten God’s people – in
Pittsburgh, and in Charleston, and even here in Kansas City. But racism and anti-Semitism
and hate will not have the last word. For our God reigns and will not keep
silent. The God of Love reigns, and hate will not endure.
But in that inevitable trajectory, as Love
completes its conquest of sin and death, we have a part to play. In God’s great
drama, we have lines to speak; and we must not shy away from the truth when
evil seeks to confound us. When we hear hate, we must name it. When we hear
divisiveness, we must unify – even though that guarantees none of us gets just what we want. When we hear
apologies for darkness, we must shine the light on it and chase evil back to
its lair. For God gives us the power to be instruments of peace in a violent
world. And God expects us to use it.
We may be grieving, and we may feel
powerless, and we may even be afraid. But don’t forget the power we wield. In
the face of evil, we can speak love. In the face of hate, we can pray for
transformation. In a society that seems increasingly to run to the extremes, we
can be people of calm and steadfast witness for the holiness of unity and
common cause. As the weekend’s tragedy continues to unfold, and as voices then compete
to control the narrative, I ask you to join me in prayer:
God of all peoples, faiths, and races, who
calls us to love one another as you love us: Be present with those whose lives
have been rent asunder in Pittsburgh. Bring holy rest to the dead. Bring your
healing to the injured. Bring your peace and hope to their families and faith
community. For those who justify hate and use prejudice to foster their own
ends, turn and change their hearts. And for our nation, strengthen and
encourage the millions of us who long for union to supplant our discord. Empower
us to stand and speak as your witnesses, bringing civility to a culture of
division and peace to a culture of violence. This we ask in the name of the
Prince of Peace, Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
No comments:
Post a Comment