Sermons

The Spirit of June
The Very Rev. Tracey Lind
June 17, 2007
The Third Sunday of Pentecost
1 Kings 21:1-21; Luke 7:36-8:3

I think June is the best month to live in Cleveland. The weather is at its finest - this year being no exception. People come out of their winter hibernation on foot, bicycles, and roller skates. The farmers markets come alive, the beach is inviting, and folks actually sit outside to eat, talk, read, nap, or do absolutely nothing. And there are all kinds of events that bring the people of our city and region together: the Memorial Day Rib Cook-off, the Botanical Gardens Flower Show, Parade the Circle, Pride Weekend, The Cleveland Grand Prix, the American Indian Center Powwow, the Scottish Games, the Ishmael and Isaac benefit to build friendship among Jews and Arabs here in Cleveland while promoting peace in the Holy Land, neighborhood art walks, garden tours, ethnic festivals, outdoor concerts, Indians baseball games, and this year the NBA Finals. What more could we want, except for a winning team?

At most of these events all sorts and conditions of people - black, white, Hispanic, Arab and Asian; rich, poor and middle-class; young, old and middle-aged; gay, straight, bisexual, and trans-gendered; urban, suburban and rural; non-believers and believers of many faith traditions; democrat, republican, independent, and green - all of us - strangers and sojourners, friends and family - come together to celebrate, honor, affirm, and yes, even embrace each other as neighbors.

Our summertime festivities stand in stark contrast to the more somber events in the world around us and offer refreshing hope against the pain, anguish, confusion and violence of the world at large. They provide solace and respite from the divisiveness over issues of gender, race, class, religion, nationality and sexual identity. In their celebration of diversity, these events (in particular - Parade the Circle, Ishmael and Isaac, and Cleveland Pride) embrace in actions much louder than words the value of the human family and the global community. In doing so, they counteract our tendency to reject the stranger, devalue the other, and exclude those who are different from us.

The tension between exclusion and embrace is as old as humankind, and this morning's scripture passages are a reflection of this age-old dynamic. In our Hebrew Scripture lesson, King Ahab and Queen Jezebel literally violated four of the Ten Commandments for the sake of a garden of convenience. They coveted their neighbor's vineyard; they bore false witness against him; they had him killed; and then they stole his property, all because it was close to their house. In doing so, they extinguished innocent Naboth from the human race and vanquished him from God's good earth. But to make matters even worse - to add insult to injury, they acted in this manner simply because they could. After all, they were the king and queen of Samaria. Their words and wishes were, in the nomenclature of the Wild West, the Law of the Land.

Naboth, on the other hand, could not sell his land, even if he wanted to; his decision was not an economic one, for Jewish inheritance laws forbade him to sell his property to someone outside his family - not even to a king. Naboth lost his property and his life because he was both faithful and powerless; he was expendable in the eyes of the powerful but not necessarily faithful ruler of the land.

But God, seeing what happened, was not pleased. As the prophet Elijah, speaking on behalf of his master, made quite clear to Ahab, there is only one King, one ultimate ruler in this world - the Lord our God. And this sovereign would not and will not tolerate such injustice.

The story of Naboth's vineyard, as it is called, is not an isolated tale. Unfortunately, it reflects what absolute rulers; governments and powerful institutions have done since the beginning of time. It is the story of the Native Americans who lost their ancestral lands to U.S. expansion. It is the story of African men, women and children who lost their freedom to American slavery. It is the story of the fishermen on the island of Vieques in Puerto Rico who lost their fishing waters to the U.S. Navy. It is the story of European Jews who lost their homes, their businesses and their lives to the Nazi regime. It is the story of Palestinians who lost their villages and vineyards to Israeli settlements. It is the story of innocent people in southern Sudan who have lost their homes and livelihoods to civil war. It is the story of the Kurds in Northern Iraq. It is the story of many inner city neighborhoods lost to urban renewal, redlining, freeways, eminent domain, predatory lending, and sometimes well-intended gentrification. It is even the story of hostile corporate take-overs, acquisitions and buy-outs when owners and stockholders don't really care what happens to the workers. The story of Naboth's garden is the all-too-familiar but sad and unjust tale of unconstrained power, privilege and greed, under girded by false ideologies that justify the expulsion of the vulnerable and the exclusion of the other who threatens or gets in our way.

In this morning's Gospel text, we see this same dynamic of exclusion and expulsion vs. inclusion and embrace with a different outcome. Simon, in whose house Jesus was dining, wanted to exclude and expel the unnamed, uninvited and stigmatized woman from the table. He was embarrassed and repulsed by her exuberant, provocative, and yet genuine behavior. And, if we are honest with ourselves, most of us would have felt and possibly reacted the same way as Simon.

But Jesus, who was the recipient of her perhaps overly exuberant gratitude and hospitality, had a different take on the situation. Having witnessed this dynamic in the culture of his day, Jesus saw that society was divided into two groups: insiders, who by human standards deemed as acceptable in God's realm; and outsiders, who by human standards were thought to be beyond the realm of God's inclusion. He recognized the potential for exclusion or embrace, expulsion or welcome in each and every human being and human institution, including organized religion. Thus, when the host tried to stop the woman who interrupted the dinner party by anointing the feet of the honored guest with oil and tears, Jesus responded with a parable about forgiveness. He followed this verbal retort with the act of welcoming and forgiving the scandalous woman. Jesus not only embraced the excluded one; he elevated her as a teaching example of Gospel love.

Together, these texts remind us that our relationship with others is a direct reflection of our relationship with God. They challenge us to the sometimes painfully honest Gospel message that we cannot really love God whom we cannot see, if we cannot love our neighbor standing right in front of us.

Through what the German theologian Jurgen Moltmann calls "the scandal of the cross," Jesus shares in his very own body and soul, the sufferings of those whom society wants to exclude and expel rather than embrace and welcome. Thus, how we define ourselves as a people and a community determines whether we will exclude or welcome those with whom Jesus hangs on the cross. If we consider ourselves to be the exception to the prophetic commands and baptismal promises to resist evil, love our neighbors, strive for justice and peace, and respect the dignity of every human being, we will feel entitled, like Ahab and Jezebel, to expel Naboth from his own land, and entitled, like Simon the Pharisee, to exclude the nameless woman from the dinner party. If on the other hand, we follow Jesus and honor the teachings of the law and prophets to "love kindness, do justice and walk humbly with God," (Micah 6:8) we will not take what doesn't belong to us and reject those who are not like us. Unfortunately, as evidenced by human history and circumstance, it's easier said than done.

Most of us have experienced exclusion and expulsion at one time or another. We know what it's like to be left out. We know what it's like to have what is rightfully ours taken away. And many of us have excluded and expelled another in our lives. We know what it's like to reject a neighbor or to take something that doesn't belong to us. Thus, we have experienced the betrayal of the other, both as victim and perpetrator. So the challenge of the gospel - the pain of crucifixion and the promise of resurrection - holds truth for most of us and calls us to a higher place. The question is--how will we respond?

The answer lies in the spirit of June in Cleveland. It is a spirit of generosity, which promotes abundance rather than scarcity. It is a spirit of embrace, which promotes inclusion rather than exclusion. It is a spirit of hospitality, which makes space for the other by celebrating all the gifts we bring to the banquet, even if we don't fully understand them.

I hope we can claim the spirit of June in Cleveland throughout the year. In the spirit of Parade the Circle, let us see God's realm as a feast of abundance with our many and varied stories and gifts as the loaves and fishes. In the spirit of Cleveland Pride, let us embrace diversity and difference as a blessing rather than a curse and continue to walk with those whom religion and society sometimes stigmatize and marginalize. And, in the spirit of Ishmael and Isaac, let us believe that the things that separate us from one another may be overcome in the oneness of God, and through our prayers and actions, that the peace of Jerusalem (and the rest of the world) might someday - sooner than later - be a reality. Finally, as we rebuild this blessed city and its region, I hope that we can enjoy the warm days, cool evenings, and gentle breezes of summer on the North Shore knowing that we all are welcomed and received in the name of the one who show great love and calls us to love greatly. Amen!