Tuesday, February 7, 2017

Sunday Sermon - February 5, 2017 by the Rev. David M. Stoddart

Matthew 5:13-20


You are the light of the world.

This past week I attended Friday prayers at the masjid on Pine Street, where our local Muslim community worships. I have been doing that about once a month for the past year or so. I go as an act of friendship and solidarity with that faith community during what has been for them a very scary time, and over the months I’ve been doing it a number of parishioners have joined me. This past Friday my son Aidan was with me. The sermon was on sincerity of action. The preacher talked about how important it was for Muslims to sincerely work for good in their homes, their workplaces, and in the Charlottesville community at large. And he emphasized that when people see that, when people see believers sincerely working for justice, peace, and the relief of suffering, then God is glorified. And I couldn’t help but think of this Gospel: You are the light of the world. We are the light of the world, and of course it’s not our own light we reflect: it’s the light of Christ. But that light, according to Jesus, does not shine through dogmatic declarations or institutional mandates: it shines through acts of justice, peace, and mercy. Put simply, it shines through works of love. So he goes on to say, Let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.

And there’s no mystery about what those good works entail. Isaiah says it plainly: Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover them, and not to hide yourself from your own kin? This is a theme that runs throughout the Bible: I mean, it’s found in hundreds of verses. And it is firmly embedded in our Baptismal Covenant, in which we promise —we promise! — to “seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbor as our self” and “to strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being.”

“All persons,” “all people,” and “every human being:” emphatic language. And Scripture makes it perfectly clear that “all people” includes foreigners, immigrants, and refugees. As it says in Deuteronomy: For the LORD your God is God of gods and Lord of lords, the great God, mighty and awesome, who is not partial and takes no bribe, who executes justice for the orphan and the widow, and who loves the strangers, providing them food and clothing. You shall also love the stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt (Deut. 10:17-19). This is not a one-off verse: the Law elsewhere stipulates that gleanings from every harvest must be left for aliens residing in the land so that they have food to eat (Lev. 19:9-10, 23:22). It is an outlook Jesus obviously embraces. The very core of his teaching is to love God with everything we’ve got and to love our neighbor as our self. And who is our neighbor? Everyone, Jesus says: Samaritans, Romans, foreigners . . . everyone: no exceptions. The greatest decision of the early church, a Jewish movement started by a Jewish Messiah, was made at the great Council of Jerusalem described in Acts 15 which opened up membership in the community of Christ to people of all nations, Jews and Gentiles alike. For two thousand years the Church Universal has offered witness to the all-embracing nature of God’s love by welcoming everyone and providing special care for the poor, the homeless, and the suffering. This is our spiritual DNA: this is who we are.

How do we best apply that tradition in our community and in our nation? We all know what’s going on: executive orders stopping all refugees from entering our country, including thousands who have already gone through years of vetting; voices in our society that speak with fear, hatred, and contempt about immigrants in general and Muslims in particular. Now, I get that we as followers of Christ may well disagree in good faith about the best policies to pursue. And when we do disagree, we should do so with respect and charity. But if we disagree on how to apply our tradition, we cannot disagree on what our tradition teaches us. It is clear and unambiguous, running from the beginning of the Bible to the end: there is no doubting it and no escaping it: God loves the poor, the homeless, and the stranger, and if we are to own the name Christian, somehow we must love them, too.

I have no idea what’s going to happen at the national level, but as Rector I do have some say in what happens here. So here’s what I know will happen: I will continue to visit the masjid with anyone who wants to join me and we will continue to build relationships with our Muslim neighbors ― because that’s love; our international outreach group, which has been working very hard, will continue to partner with the International Rescue Committee to resettle a refugee family here in Charlottesville, a family fleeing from violence and despair ― because that’s love; as a parish we will strive to be not just a welcoming church, but an inviting church, a community where all people can safely find a spiritual home: white people and brown people, young people and old people, straight people and gay people, liberals and conservatives, citizens and non-citizens ― because that’s love. Emily will continue to build up a youth community where everyone belongs and where everyone can experience God’s . . . love; Mother Kathleen and I will continue to proclaim the Good News of Jesus Christ in whose Kingdom the only power that matters is . . . love.

And, perhaps most important at this moment, I invite you to join me in making a commitment. When someone disagrees with me and, say, complains about this sermon, I will listen to them and I will love them. If we encounter someone espousing hatred, don’t give into the same hatred: love them. When people around us are afraid, don’t give into the same fear: The First Letter of John tells us that perfect love casts out all fear (1 John 4:18), so when we encounter fearful people, love them. We must stand firm for what we believe is right, but if we don’t do it with love and for love, it is all for naught. We must love ― there is no other way. Remember: You are the light of the world . . . Let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.

Believe it or not, we are all God’s got to do this. So don’t just sing the songs and say the prayers and eat and drink your Jesus, and then go hide. After all, it is the light of Christ we reflect, the very light of God, and we know that no darkness will ever overcome it. Trust that. Live that. Go out and shine.


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