A Sermon Preached Easter Vigil, April 23, 2011: Greetings!

by Lee Cheek, Lay Preacher

at St. Paul's, Stockbridge, MA (St. Paul, St. George, St. James, Good Shepherd Episcopal Churches)

Good Evening—or is it Good Morning? I’m not quite sure. I’m kind of dizzy from all the time travel we’ve done this evening from the beginning of creation to Matthew’s empty tomb.

These and all the other stories in the Hebrew Scriptures are the rich record of a people who heard the voice of a God different from their friends, families, and enemies. They all began, about 4000 years ago when our forbearers—the elderly Abraham and Sarah--left their fathers and the idols of their fathers to follow the God of Love wherever faithfulness to this God would lead them.

And what a journey it has been with this God who was gradually shorn of violence and sacrifice and discovered to be the one, true God of Love! These are holy stories of the spectacular ups and tragic downs of a people remembering and forgetting who and whose they were. Desire for mammon. Desire for God. Temples built, destroyed, rebuilt. Humiliating defeats and painful exiles. Feasts. Famines. Self-serving retribution. Gracious benevolence. Eyes for eyes, teeth for teeth. Joseph, Job, Esther, Jezebel. Judges, Kings, and Prophets. Laws and punishments. Treachery. Lies. Murder and salvation.

Think of it! All those stories have brought us here to sit in this lovely sanctuary of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church in Stockbridge, Massachusetts, 2011 years this side of a Passover Feast in Jerusalem, when human desire went wrong (again) and converged in a vortex of violence that ended in a tomb of a murdered man.

A murdered man, who if we are to believe our witness Matthew, emerges from that tomb of tombs and says to the first people he meets, “Greetings!” Imagine that! “Greetings!” “Hi!”

That just slays me! I mean isn’t what we expect from a murdered man something like, “Wooooo, I’m going to get you!”? Something like the ghost of John the Baptist that visited the guilty Herod?

No. Matthew clearly does not want us to think that this is a ghost, for he writes: “And they--Mary Magdalen and the other Mary--came to him, took HOLD of his feet (!), and worshiped him.” You can’t hold on to the feet of a ghost.

This realness that Matthew and all the gospel witnesses insist on, is how they are saying to us that even though they were with Jesus for three years and hung on his every word, they were not able to piece it together and really know Jesus and what he was doing in any real way until after the events of that horrible, wrenching week in Jerusalem.

“Jerusalem, Jerusalem! The city that kills the prophets”¹ was a city on the brink of disaster then: a brutal occupying Roman army, rival factions at each other’s throat about how to deal with it, a volatile mob tired of it’s most recent celebrity, bitter memories of captivities and exiles, and a handful of desperate leaders whose only common interest was to quell the surging waters of violence that threatened to overflow and destroy them all.

They succumbed to the temptation, not unreasonable, of selecting a common enemy to draw all the violence in one direction. “It is better that one man should die for the many.”²

Who better, then, for the accusing finger to point to than that charismatic young rabbi whose life for the past three years had been a living interpretation of their own holy scripture—their holy stories of being called out by Love on a journey to a Promised Land where no one’s life or dignity or well-being would ever be sacrificed for the good of the order.

So then, the shameful spectacle of trumped up charges and trials. At no point did the young rabbi run away from his teaching of absolute non-violence. Not even in the face of empire, temple, crowd, and faithless friends.

The brutal public execution and burial in a sealed and guarded tomb brings us just this side of something extraordinary. Matthew sets the scene:

Earth-quake! Angel that looks like “lightning! Fainting soldiers! Angel rolls back the stone of the tomb. Waits for two Marys. Tells two Marys, “don’t be afraid, look inside, and run tell the disciples that Jesus will be waiting for them in Galilee.” Two Marys dash off to Jerusalem. Two Marys met in road by Jesus.

And then--after all the tortured, wretched, sorry business of the past three days—Jesus tosses out the word that sets the world in forward motion again, spinning out Love’s light from the abyss of the tomb of tombs, so that we, each and every one of us since then—betrayed and betrayer, tortured and torturer, slave and enslaver, liar and lied to—is miraculously back on the road to the Promised Land, inconceivably forgiven and loved.

“Greetings!” The word, evacuated of anger, reproach, even triumph, that gives us—we who have turned out to be wrong!—a very soft place to land. A soft landing where our nervous systems can relax.

Surprised and gentled by the infinite friendliness and patience of this forgiveness, we can feel the tension draining away, and it becomes possible for us to love others back into their dignity, as well.

“Greetings!” he said then, and still says to us today,

“I know your pettiness, your distorted desires, your tightly held grudges, your pride and your prejudice. I like you anyway! Now, go. Be on your way, and play your part: Tell everyone I’m coming, because, My Dears, when you waste Forgiveness and Love on them, I will already have arrived!”

AMEN.

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¹Matthew 23:37

²John 18:14

The preacher gratefully acknowledges:

James Alison, http://www.ravenfoundation.org/projects/making-religion-reasonable/james-alison-s-forgiving-victim-dvd-series

Anthony Bartlett, Virtually Christian, O-Books, 2011

Nina Simone who preached it in song at Montreux 1976 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5dlrXCYrNYI&feature=related

A Sermon Preached February 20, 2011 Epiphany 7A

by Lee Cheek

One Heart At a Time

“…you should become fools so that you may become wise.” 1 Corinthians 3:18

“Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” Matthew 5:48

It is so hard to stop fighting. It is so easy to start. Here’s the scene: A room full of toys. A child is playing with one of them. Enter another child looking for a toy. What happens next?

Right. You all know: a fight over the only toy (among many) that the first child has. Punches are thrown. Tears. Screams. Parents enter. Blame ensues: I had it first! She hit me first! But he pulled my hair! She bit me!

This is so common among children AND adults that one might suspect we are hard-wired to ramp up our responses in the heat of conflict. In 2003 researchers in London discovered that, indeed, we are.¹

Pairs of volunteers were connected to a mechanical device that allowed each of them to exert pressure on the other’s fingers. Although they were instructed to take turns applying equal amounts of pressure, the machines recorded that each volunteer typically responded with 40% more force than they had just experienced. Each partner was convinced that he was responding with equal force. A game of soft touches quickly became a game of moderate, then hard pokes.

Commenting on this study, Daniel Gilbert, a professor of psychology at Harvard, wrote that the research teaches us that “our reasons and our pains are more palpable, more obvious and real, than are the reasons and pains of others. This leads to the escalation of mutual harm, to the illusion that others are solely responsible for it and to the belief that our actions are justifiable responses to theirs.”²

In other words, the pain we receive seems to be more painful than the pain we produce.

Frankly, I find this personally sobering. I know from life experience, that conflicts can escalate quickly, but I usually think it is the other person’s fault.

As the study would imply, the truth of this is much easier to see when we are not personally involved. I think this knowledge of tit for tat escalation is what had us on the edge of our seats for 18 days as we watched events unfold in Tahrir Square in Cairo. Who was going to respond with the additional force that would set off an all-against-all conflagration?

It is unclear what is going to happen in the delicate negotiations to restructure Egypt’s government. But we are beginning to learn a little about what has happened so far.

After a failed effort in 2005, leaders of Egypt’s April 6 Youth Movement began training in non-violent activism which prepared them years in advance for the events in both Tunisia and Egypt.³ Rather foolish in the face of repressive regimes you might say.

But like Gandhi, King, Mandela, and their followers, the democracy activists were whole-heartedly and fearlessly committed to meeting their enemies without returning the harm they perceived they had received. Even if it meant they would lose their lives.

To be sure, not all non-violent action succeeds in ways measured by the world. People die, regimes stay in place. Worse repression or worse tyrants may follow. But, as a Christian, I believe like Mother Teresa that I am not called to be successful, but to be faithful. Faithful to the practice of opening of my heart to all my brothers and sisters, especially those with whom I disagree, and especially those whose actions I must oppose.

In today’s reading from Matthew, the centerpiece of the Sermon on the Mount, we are asked to respond to provocation not with equal force—which research tells us we cannot do anyway—but with the bravest generosity beyond any requirement of law that we can muster.

Not in order to shame or expose the baseness of the other who has wronged us. But in order to change ourselves that we might live creative lives, uncontaminated by resentment and angry self-righteousness.

The very extravagance of these instructions wisely takes into account our desire for distorted payback that gives our tormentors way too much real estate in our soul.

As Christians, we are given the freedom to judge for ourselves what that might look like for us in any given situation. On some occasions, a smile might be our most generous response, the bravest thing we can do. And who knows. It just might be enough.

Sometimes all we can do is pray. Yet know this: when we take time to pray for our enemies and include them in our circle of concern, we admit them into our hearts and are eventually blessed by the liberating truth that the rain and sun are equally theirs.

So here’s the question Paul is asking us today: Do you want this foolish, extravagant, wholehearted generosity towards others to be the foundation of your life? If so, then relax into the Company of Fools, he says, and it’s all yours. As you build your temple with care on this foundation, you will begin to experience a world beyond tit for tat for ... boom!

Now I can’t end without addressing the troublesome last sentence of the today’s Gospel: “Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.”

I know many of us have been damaged and emotionally crippled by exhortations to be “perfect.” In fact, according to Dr. Brené Brown who researches vulnerability at the University of Houston, perfection as it is known today is actually one of the ways that we use to avoid opening our hearts and becoming vulnerable to life’s experiences, including love and connectedness.⁴

So I’m going to offer up a contemporary paraphrase of what I think Jesus understood as the heavenly Father’s “perfection” that we are to imitate. If you like, gaze at the screen upon the beautiful 6^th century icon--which happens to be from Egypt, St. Catherine’s Monastery in the Sinai. It is the Christ Pantocrator, “Christ, Ruler of All.” And then, if you like, imagine Jesus speaking these words, taken from an Abbey Lincoln song:

"Throw it away, throw it away. Give your love, live your life each and every day ... And keep your hand wide open. Let the sun shine through, 'cause you can never lose a thing if it belongs to you ... Throw it away, throw it away. Give your love, live your life each and every day ... And the hand's unclenched and open, gifts of life and love it brings, so keep your hand wide open if you're needing anything ... Throw it away, throw it away. Give your love, live your life, each and every day.”⁵

Live foolishly. Live generously. Amen.

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¹ Sukhwinder S. Shergill et al. “Two Eyes for an Eye: The Neuroscience of Force Escalation.” Science 11 July 2003: 18.

² Daniel Gilbert .“He Who Cast the First Stone Probably Didn’t.” The New York Times July 24, 2006

³ Sheryl Gay Stolberg. “Shy U.S. Intellectual Created Playbook Used in a Revolution.” The New York Times February 16, 2011.

⁴ Brené Brown. “The Price of Invulnerability.” TEDxHouston. YouTube video. 2010

⁵Abbey Lincoln. “Throw It Away” Track 4 from Golden Lady. InnerCity Records 1117, 1981. Link

A Sermon Preached November 7, 2010 (All Saints C) by Lee Cheek

FREEDOM TO LOVE

“Love your enemies.” Luke 6:27
“But the holy ones of the Most High shall receive the kingdom and possess the kingdom forever” Daniel 7: 18

It’s Sunday, March 7, 1965, and Jonathan Daniels, a 25 year old, white seminary student at what was then known as Episcopal Theological School in Cambridge, Mass., is watching on national television the dramatic and violent events of a civil rights march gone wrong. A little later in the broadcast he hears Martin Luther King urge Northern white religious leaders to come to Selma, to complete the 52 mile historic march to Montgomery.

Later, at evening prayer, Jonathan sings with gladness the words of the Magnificat: “My Soul doth magnify the Lord.” When he gets to “He has cast down the might from their thrones and has lifted up the lowly,” he knows that he must answer King’s call. On March 9, Jonathan and ten other ETS students travel to Selma where they join thousands of clergy and nuns who accompany King and his followers to Montgomery.

Because of a ban preventing the second march, many leave before it finally takes place on March 21. Jonathan and fellow student Judith Upham decide to stay in Selma through the spring semester. They move in with a black family, tutor the children, and take them to the city’s segregated Episcopal Church, St. Paul’s. Their activism earns them the title of “white niggers” from the local white supremacists. Jonathan writes: “We are deep in enemy territory.”

Jonathan participates in a voter registration march in Camden and has a realization about his attackers while being tear-gassed and threatened. He writes in his journal: “I began to change. I saw that the men who came at me were themselves not free. Even though they were white and hateful and my enemy, they were human beings, too. I began to discover a new freedom in the cross: a freedom to love the enemy and in that freedom to will and to try to set him free.”

In August 1965 Jonathan and several members of SNCC (Student Non-Violent Coordinating Committee) picket a grocery store for abusing black customers in Ft. Deposit. They are arrested and put in the Haynesville jail for several days. They choose to not put up bail in order to buy time for an injunction for the case to go to Federal Court. They are suspiciously released. While deciding what to do they walk to a nearby store to purchase cold drinks. A special deputy is waiting for them at the door with a shotgun. He says: “The store is closed. If you don’t get off this god-damn property I will blow your god-damned brains out.”

Ruby Sales, a 17 year old black SNCC worker, is pulled from behind, the gun is fired and Jonathan falls. He dies immediately. About a month later, the deputy is acquitted by an all-white jury after only two hours deliberation.

After Jonathan’s death, people got stronger. Soon the southern jury system came under attack in scores of affirmative law suits. Within five years blacks were serving on juries, voting, sharing public facilities and holding public office.

Today Jonathan Daniels is honored in the Martyrs Chapel of Canterbury Cathedral and in 1994 his name was added to the Episcopal calendar as a martyr and witness to the Gospel.

Nearly 2000 years before Jonathan’s death, a young rabbi began to proclaim that God is love and has nothing to do with violence. A large group of disciples gathered to join him in his project of turning the long page of history by revealing once and for all the truth about human violence. To make absolutely clear what living in the Kingdom of the God of Love entails, he told them this: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also.

His message was clear: Do not return tit for tat if you have faith that the world can be otherwise.

Less than three years later, every single one of his friends abandoned him to the jaws of the sacrificial death machine that says it is better that one man die. But … three days after his death, they were—to their astonishment—met by a forgiving, totally pacific, loving presence of their betrayed friend that was so real to them, that they rededicated themselves to the spreading the Good News that the True God NEVER requires a sacrifice.

The pilgrimage to the Kingdom of God ceases early for some like Jonathan Daniels, and we call them the holy ones, the saints. Through the witness of their lives, they have passed on the treasure of our inheritance: The knowledge that God is love which bestows upon us the freedom and power to love others without exception.

A very necessary part of my own pilgrimage is the time I spend with you each week to hear the stories and sing the songs of the people who gradually came to know that God is Love. Today, like always, we will come to the table together and together be forgiven. We will be sent out together to magnify this Love in the world in the unique way given to each one of us.

But can I remember by the time I even get to coffee hour? Will I continue to blame my less than charitable responses on someone else’s behavior? Will I continue to make my home in a world shot through and infused with self-righteousness, resentment, reprisals, and the triumphalism of avenged honor? Will I slip out from under the demands of justice and compassion and continue to reproduce what is done to me?

Of course, it is not easy. But to a God who loves me so much that I am forgiven before I ask, I pray: Guide me each moment of my life. Keep me company each day with the un-triumphant saints. Help me learn to love my enemies. So that one day, I may be able to say as Jonathan did:
“I realized that as a Christian I was totally free … at least free to give my life if that had to be, with joy and thankfulness and eagerness for the Kingdom no longer hidden from behind my eyes.”

AMEN.

[Facts from Jonathan Daniels’ story are taken from the 2005 film broadcast on PBS Here I Am, Send Me (available in streaming video at http://episcopalonline.org/Featured_Video). The remainder of the sermon was borrowed heavily, gratefully and shamelessly from the writings of James Alison (see publications at http://www.jamesalison.co.uk/index.html), René Girard (Things Hidden Since the Foundation of the World, Stanford University Press, 1987, and other publications http://www.imitatio.org/), and Rowan Williams (Writings in the Dust, Eerdmans, 2002).]