Easter 7C 2007

20 May 2007

The Rev'd Lloyd Prator

New York City

Today's gospel comes from John, and it is part of Jesus high priestly prayer before his crucifixion. In fact, it might sound familiar, because it is the long gospel passage read at Maundy Thursday, during the agape supper, that meal that we have late on Thursday evening in holy week.

That passage is chosen, I think, for today's Eucharist because it tells us one of the things that Christians are to do with their faith. Jesus says that we are called to be close to the Father so that the world may know that you have sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me. That the world may know. Look at the church and know that the love of God is so overwhelming that it can touch each and every one of you. Look at the Church.

Well, in fact, that is often not a very good idea. If you look at the church, you find, at best, a human institution like all human institutions. I thought of this idea last week when, among other things, Jerry Falwell died. Not a man with whom I have much in common, and while I am given to understand that he was a very generous and loving man in private, his public proclamations seemed repulsive to me. As a New Yorker, I was appalled that he blamed American liberalism for the Muslim terrorist attacks in 2001. Not only did it make me angry, but also it seemed to illustrate a certain ignorance of scripture and Christian teaching, something one should not expect in a clergyman. What of the words of Jesus speaking about the rain falling on the just and the unjust alike. But it is not my purpose to critique Pastor Falwell, but to commend him to God with my prayers. I may or may not think he needs them more than your average Christian on the street, but that is neither here nor there.

But you can look at people like Pastor Falwell, or some of the other Christians who have said and done hateful things and wonder what in the world Jesus had in mind when saying that people should look at the Church and see the love between Jesus and the Father.

I am convinced that Jesus never expected people in the Church to be morally any better than those outside of it. He might have wished that it were so, but I think he knew better. He had a healthy skepticism about the ability of the faith to transform its adherents into paragons of moral rectitude and virtue. Christians are not distinguished by their higher morality, but by their theology. We are no better than the average pagan-on-the-street, but we have a different way of explaining why we are not better than anyone else and what God intends to do about it.

And yet, Christians are called to witness to their faith, to the love of God that binds Jesus to the Father and us to each other and to god. We have a story to tell. And our history is full of our efforts, for good or ill, to witness to that that faith.

One of the earliest stories about witnessing comes in today's first reading from the Acts of the Apostles. An interesting story. It begins with one of Paul's famous encounters with some of the bizarre pagan religions around him. There was this slave girl who had a certain demon possession that, while it made her very uncomfortable, made her a cash cow for her owners. She was something of a fortuneteller and made her owner some income. When Paul cured her, she was delighted, but her owners lost their ability to make a tidy profit by predicting the winners of horse races and stock futures. So, they threw Paul in jail.

I suppose the charge was property damage, But it is also a story of symbolic power and historical affect. Christians had been proclaiming all along that Christ was the one whose death and resurrection made us al free, and here, we see a follower of Jesus given the power to set someone free from demon possession. But for whatever charge, Paul ended up in prison.

The story tells us one important point about witnessing to Christ. It is in times of adversity that our witness is most effective. Anyone can witness to anything when things are going well. When admiring fans surround you, it is easy to take a position. But when you are among those who are indifferent or downright hostile, that is when it is hard to stand for anything.

In times of adversity, the first thing we can do is to show respect for the fundamental humanity of our adversaries. Remember Paul and the jailer. Paul managed to escape, we are told by an earthquake that conveniently opened up the jail like a can of sardines. The jail guard thought that his prisoners had all escaped and letting a bunch like them get away would probably be the end of his civil service career, if not his earthly life. He started to kill himself. But Paul spoke up and pointed out that the prisoners were still there. No one had escaped.

Paul saw through to the inner humanity of the jailer. He touched him as one might touch a friend. Our humanity counts.

And we can still do things like that in everyday life. Asking about an ailing member of the family of someone who is opposed to you can establish common humanity. In times of personal confrontation, trying to offer some respect for some aspect of an opponent's argument can establish a common intellectual rapport. Try assuming that both sides of a disagreement are well informed and motivated by the goal of the common good—that can remind us that we are al in this project, or on this job, or in this office together.

We can also witness to our faith by remembering who we are. In the second reading, John the Theologian paints a picture of heaven. In that picture, God is an inviting God, he is the host God, and he invites all to come. All, everyone, the whole world. He begins with inviting us. The ones who are in the root and descent of David, the bright morning star, the sunrise of humanity. We are the ones who have been washed in the water of life, taken his life into our bodies in the Eucharist. We are not a perfected people, but we are holy because God loves us. Remember who we are.

And remembering who we are makes us so strong. There is nothing as compelling in an argument or policy discussion as a person who knows clearly and surely who he is. I saw the political debates last week, maybe you did too. The candidates and would-be candidates who were most impressive were the ones who seemed authentic. They knew who they were; they spoke from convictions seemed older than 48 hours. Knowing who we are makes us persons of integrity, and there is nothing as compelling as personal integrity. Even our enemies can respect us if we show integrity.

So, if you are concerned about how to show your faith, how to witness, consider doing it at moments of adversity, because it is best to do it when it is hard to do it. Consider the virtues of humanity and integrity; those are the tools for tilling the fertile fields of Christian witness.

None of us will witness with complete effectiveness. None of us is free from original sin, which is why we call it original. I think sometimes that traditional church architecture had something compelling to say about Christ and his Church. Churches used to have steeples, towers that stretched toward heaven. Scholars of medieval architecture said this was so because the church was meant to point to God. The steeple did not loop around and point in the window to the people. Rather, it stood atop the church and reached up to point to God. It is the vocation of the church to mimic that architectural motif, to be those who, like those steeples point to God. Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.