I really would love to preach to you today about the Good Shepherd
and maybe I will get to that by the end of this sermon
but first I need to address what has come up in the last few days
among members of this congregation.
It has to do with the church sign and reader board.
“Matter is minimum. Black lives are worthy, loved, and needed.”
I have received several phone calls and some email and text message exchanges about the current message.
Some people were not happy with that message.
Some see it as political and therefore inappropriate for a church message.
Some see it as upsetting a desired sense of love and peace
among the members of the congregation.
First of all, it is important that you know
that what goes on that sign requires my approval.
This is not something the vestry votes on.
Anyone may suggest the wording, but I am the one who gives approval.
The idea for the message was presented by email to the vestry for comment.
Some of the vestry members responded.
Some held back waiting to hear what others would say.
Some pondered how others in the congregation would react.
Some people, members of the congregation, outside this vestry conversation
had heard about the reader board message and reacted.
All this tells me that this congregation continues to struggle with
how to talk about issues where people have different positions,
and how reactive we can get before we even have conversations.
If you do not like or agree with the message on the reader board,
I do not want to hear comments that blame or malign
those who suggested the message.
We have had too much of that already,
and that has damaged trust among our relationships.
Now I am going to say something that I probably should have been addressing
in sermons or Bible study classes or forum discussions.
Racism is a huge issue in our country, in our history,
in this state and this community.
The Episcopal Church has taken some fine steps in addressing this,
not just recently, but for quite some time now,
and not just because our Presiding Bishop is a Black descendent of slaves.
I began my active ministry in the Episcopal Church in 1966 at the age of 20
working for the Episcopal Mission Society of the Diocese of New York.
My job was being a camp counselor where we took disadvantages kids
from all the boroughs of New York City for an outdoor adventure
in the lakes and forests of the Catskills.
Coming as I did from an all white community of my campers
50% were Black, 40% were Puerto Ricans,
and the remaining 10% were everything else.
I learned so much from my campers,
as I begin to see the world through their eyes.
These were kids that didn’t matter to most of the rest of their community,
but we told them that they did matter to God,
so they were worthy, loved and needed
even if that was not the message they got when they returned home.
In 1990 when I was in the Diocese of Minnesota
where there were Lakota and Ojibwe members in every congregation,
we listened to our First Nations siblings asking us to prepare
a different kind of observance for the 500th anniversary
of the “discovery” of the New World by Christopher Columbus.
So instead we spent the next two years preparing for an acknowledgement of
500 years of survival of indigenous peoples after the European invasion.
And then more recently I revived my high school Spanish
in order to preside at the Eucharist and even preach in Spanish.
And I learned from these parishioners,
as I did from the Ojibwe and the New York campers,
that the God of the Bible we read has a preferential option
for those who are marginalized and dispossessed
by the dominant culture among whom they live.
There is no level playing field in this country, or anywhere in the world.
That is why the Torah, the commandments in the Old Testament,
made special provision for those without income, status or power
so that they could have some provision and protection:
the widows, the orphans, the poor and the aliens resident among them.
That is what the Old Testament prophets kept coming back to
and reminding the people of these injunctions.
Justice in these cases is seeing that their needs are met
so that they can be equally productive for the benefit of all.
Everyone is needed.
They learned that wandering in the harsh environment the Sinai for 40 years
having come out of slavery themselves.
And the Son of God chose to be born at a very volatile point in history
among a people who were dispossessed and oppressed.
And you can’t read the Gospels without getting at least a glimmer
of the politics of the time.
And a lot of what Jesus said and did had a distinct political edge.
Just take the Sermon on the Mount, for instance,
starting with the Beatitudes.
Who are the Blessed? the poor in spirit, the downtrodden,
those who morn, those who hunger and thirst after righteousness,
that is, being set right in the eyes of God,
who, remember, has a preferential option for the marginalized.
I am only scratching the surface.
Until all lives truly matter and the playing field is level,
some lives will require just treatment
and our compassionate engagement to make that so.
We can preach that, and we can take action in ministry and service,
and sometimes that upsets the status quo,
equilibrium that can too easily become “don’t rock the boat.”
Black lives are worthy, are loved, are needed.
Let’s make this more personal.
We all know Ethan.
What a world he is growing up in!
How will it be for him in the future?
But Ethan is worthy, Ethan is loved, Ethan is needed.
The sign outside is about him.
It’s about our kids of color who have been bullied and harassed in school here.
The sign is for them.
I’m thinking of making the sign read differently next week:
Native lives are worthy, are loved, are needed.
That would be an appropriate message to share in this community.
Then there is all that history about Lewiston back in the old days.
The following week: Asian lives are worthy, are loved, are needed.
Then another segment of our community that needs our acknowledgment:
LGBTQ lives are worthy, are loved, are needed.
Then if you have any sense of your own shortcomings,
your own need for God’s grace and forgiveness,
your own poverty of spirit,
let the sign read:
YOUR life is worthy, YOU are loved, YOU are needed.
Jesus, the Good Shepherd, laid down his life for the sheep,
not just the robust and healthy sheep in the flock,
but also for the ones left behind,
the ones stuck in the thickets,
and the ones who were different from the rest
and were likely to be ostracized.
Jesus talked about the shepherd leaving the ninety and nine
and going out to look for the stray, that’s how valuable the stray was.
So I am asking us all to take a good hard look at how we are reacting right now.
Notice how we use the word political right now.
Have we substituted it for the word moral,
as in our Christian moral responsibility?
Does the comfort level for us to be together depend on
not talking about moral responsibility
because there are political implications?
It is not inappropriate for Christians to take a biblical moral stand
following the example of Jesus
on the grounds that such action is political.
If that is inappropriate, then we would have stopped following Jesus.
If so, then we have become the lost sheep
and we will become prey to the wolves that would devour us:
the wolves of hate, closed heartedness, and fear,
and inaction in the face of the cries of those in need of justice.
Living out the Baptismal Covenant is not as easy as we thought,
not convenient, not always comfortable.
It certainly wasn’t convenient nor comfortable for Jesus.
Jesus, the Good Shepherd, said, “I lay down my life for the sheep,”
and “I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.”
May we recognize this and be open to embracing the abundance of this life
this life in Christ, this life of Resurrection Presence
in which we live and move and have our being.
May we embrace this abundance of life
that brings us into closer union with each other
and doesn’t let us rest until the cries for justice are headed and met.
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