Seeds of Hope

 

St. Barnabas Church, Falmouth            The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

             According to my HarperCollins Study Bible, today’s passage from St. Paul’s letter to the Romans is introduced with the headline, “Marks of a True Christian.” It is a list of imperatives, drawing on the wisdom tradition of scripture, like the book of Proverbs. It focuses on social relations, which St. Paul offers as guidelines for the budding Christian community in Rome. During these times of COVID 19, systemic racism and violence, political battles, and social unrest, how many of us can claim these marks for ourselves? Not me!

            The marks of being a true Christian suggest ways we can become better versions of ourselves; and yet holding myself up against this yardstick of perfection, I find myself sorely lacking. My battle with the squirrels brought out the worst in me, “Vengeance is mine!” I would yell as they scurried away from the birdfeeder. Or listening to the news, I would find myself despairing. How do you not curse some of these people? How do I hold fast to what is good when I want to heap burning coals on their heads?

St. Barnabas, whose feast day was this past Monday, was known as both the “son of consolation and the son of encouragement.” When I read this passage from St. Paul’s letter, at first, I was neither consoled nor encouraged. We live in dark times. The pandemic is still virulent, Jacob Blake was shot by the police in his back 7 times, and violence is erupting in our cities. Many people are feeling helpless, powerless, and hopeless.

Sometimes I wonder about us humans!  How can we behave like “that” and still call ourselves people of faith or “true Christians” or just decent human beings? Discouraged by what I see and hear, I weep with those who weep; and then I look for some relief from the pain. I look for temporary distractions, not to avoid or deny the reality of what is going on, but rather to pause and reflect on how I might respond. I want answers to the chaos and confusion in our world, and scripture stories remind me of God’s steadfast love, justice, and mercy.

Moses was born as a Hebrew child, and yet raised by Pharaoh’s daughter in Egypt, after her father ordered all the Hebrew baby boys to be killed. As an adult, Moses began to understand his own heritage; he saw firsthand the oppression and forced labor of his people. When he saw an Egyptian beating one of his kinsfolk, he made sure that no one was watching, and then he killed him. He took justice into his own hands.

“When Moses went out the next day, he saw two Hebrews fighting between each other; and he said to the one who was in the wrong, “Why do you strike your fellow Hebrew?” The man answered, “Who made you a ruler and judge over us? Do you mean to kill me as you killed the Egyptian?” (Exodus 2:11-15) Violence is prevalent when unjust systems exist; and during times of high stress, people react poorly. We turn against one another. We kill our own people. And yet, St. Paul reminded the Christians in Rome, who were being persecuted at that time, to leave room for the wrath of God.

John Fraser, the European correspondent of the Globe and Mail, one of Canada's national newspapers in 1985, told a story about his daughter Jessie to the late Henri Nouwen. In his book called Seeds of Hope, Nouwen recalled John’s story. “One morning Jessie, who was 4 years old at the time, found a dead sparrow in front of their living room window. When she saw it, she was both deeply disturbed and very intrigued. Jessie asked her father, “Where is the bird now?”

            “John said he didn’t know; and when Jessie asked why it had to die, he replied, ‘because all birds return to the earth.’ ‘Oh,’ said Jessie, ‘then we have to bury it.’ A box was found, a procession was had, the grave was dug, and a cross was planted on top of it. The 4-year-old girl then offered a prayer, “Dear God, we have buried this little sparrow. Now be good to her or I will kill you. Amen.” (Seeds of Hope, p.214)

When we are sad or really angry, and our feelings are out of control, it is tempting to threaten people, or in worse cases, to take justice into our own hands. The seeds of good and evil are planted early in our human hearts. How we nurture these seeds, however, remains up to us. Hate will consume us. Rage will burn buildings and set fires of destruction. Only Love will save us.

Perhaps the silver lining in times like these is that everybody gets “woke up.” Everybody’s attention becomes focused on the problem at hand, like COVID 19, or those issues lying beneath the surface, like systemic racism. In today’s reading from Exodus, God woke up. “I have observed the misery of my people and I have heard their cry,” he said to Moses. “Indeed, I know their sufferings. So, I want you to go back to Egypt; I want you to deliver my people.”

One of my favorite distractions is to watch the Celtics basketball team. As a season ticket holder, I love the diversity and variety of the fans as well as the players. I love the passion and culture of this team, and how they console, support, and encourage each other, not only in their work but also in their lives. Since the Pandemic, they have been playing in a bubble in Florida and had just entered the playoffs when Jacob Blake was shot. In a show of solidarity against systemic racism, they postponed their first play-off game until today.

Jaylen Brown, a 23-year-old rising star on the team, wears the number 7 on his jersey, and the word “liberation” on his back. In a recent interview, he said, “When I woke up after the shooting of Jacob Blake, everything in me was on fire.” According to Taylor Snow, “what angered Brown was the familiar nightmarish scenario that African Americans continue to endure in the United States, along with the commonplace attempts to minimize such events.”

 “I now see my number 7 and can only think of a black man being shot seven times. There is an emphasis in this country on the framing of these instances,” Brown explained, “‘Well, he was a convicted felon. Well, he had a history of police brutality. Well, he possibly had a weapon.’ This framework is not unfamiliar to people of color and African Americans, nor does it constitute death or being shot seven times.”

“People of color have histories of the plague of systemic oppression, the lack of education, economic opportunity, housing, systemic racism and injustice. Yes, we are athletes being paid to play the game we love; but we are also human beings, family members, and members of our communities back home.” (Taylor Snow @taylorcsnow Celtics.com, August 25, 2020)

So, perhaps like Jaylen’s team members, perhaps like you and me, we need to keep asking that question, “What should we do now? And what exactly can I do?” “Extend hospitality to strangers,” St. Paul wrote in his letter to the Christians in Rome. In “Hostility to Hospitality” Nouwen claims that “hospitality is not to change people, but to offer them space where change can take place. It is not to bring people over to our side, but to offer freedom not disturbed by dividing lines.”(Seeds of Hope, p36) Together, in our communities and our churches, we can make space for transformation. We can educate ourselves out of ignorance. We can build bridges of hope, plant seeds of love, and accept all people as beloved children of God.

In his letter to the Romans, St. Paul said, “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God-- what is good and acceptable and perfect.” Being perfect means having integrity. It means that our words and actions are consistent with who we claim to be. We strive to love one another with mutual affection, outdo one another in showing honor, not lag in our zeal and spirits, and walk the talk with our brothers and sisters.

 “Do not repay anyone evil for evil but take thought for what is noble in the sight of all,” wrote St. Paul. “So far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all” people. St. Paul’s words are aspirational, and they are intended to be words of both consolation and encouragement. “Never, never, never give up,” said Winston Churchill; for “it all seems impossible, until it is done,” claimed Nelson Mandela.

“Set your mind on divine things,” Jesus told Peter. When we are patient in our suffering, and persevere in our prayers, we can rejoice in hope with others because we trust that God will lead us out of this darkness into light. We may even find ways to bless our enemies. When the Son of Man comes with his angels in glory, he will make reparations and restore the breach that divides us; for, as MLK, Jr. once said, “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.”