Second Sunday After Pentecost

Today's text is John 14:15-21, read by Timothy McPherson. This morning's sermon was delivered by Rev. Emily Bowen-Marler.

Lead Pastor: Rev. Dr. Phil Snider (he/him)

Associate Pastor: Rev. Emily Bowen-Marler (she/her)

Youth Director: Paije Luth (she/her)

Children’s Church Coordinator: Valerie Bush (she/her)

Executive Assistant: Wacey Rivale (she/her)

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:05

Matthew chapter 9, verses 9 through 13 and 18 through 26. As Jesus was walking along, he saw a man called Matthew sitting at the tax collection station, and he said to him, Follow me. And he got up and followed him. And as he sat at dinner in the house, many tax collectors and sinners came and were sitting with Jesus and his disciples. When the Pharisees saw this, they said to his disciples, Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners? But when he heard this, he said, Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. Go and learn what this means. I desire mercy, not sacrifice. For I have not come to call the righteous but sinners. While he was saying these things to them, suddenly a leader came in and knelt before him, saying, My daughter has just died, but come and lay your hand on her and she will live. And Jesus got up and followed him with his disciples. Then suddenly a woman who had been suffering from a flow of blood for twelve years came up behind him and touched the fringe of his cloak. For she was saying to herself, If I only touch his cloak, I will be made well. Jesus turned and seeing her, he said, Take heart, daughter, your faith has made you well. And the woman was made well from that moment. When Jesus came to the leader's house and saw the flute players and the crowd making a commotion, he said, Go away, for the girl is not dead but sleeping. And they laughed at him. But when the crowd had been put outside, he went in and took her hand, and the girl got up. And the report of this spread throughout the district. May we hear what the Spirit is saying to the church.

SPEAKER_01 2:01

Sometime in April, it came up that there was going to be a pride event in Mansfield, Missouri. The Glow Center wondered if any of the Faithful Allies group would like to go, just so there could be a few folks there, in the instance that there may be folks counter-protesting the event. The expectation was that this pride event was going to be pretty small. It was something they had done the year before, but it had been really successful. Those who came found a lot of community and solidarity and joy and gathering together. And so they reserved the town square to do this event again this year. Fast forward to mid-May, when the mayor of Mansfield, through the clerk, confirmed that Heartland Pride had reserved the square for their pride event on June 6th. But then, a few days later, at the city council meeting, someone went and spoke to City Council declaring that they had previously reserved the square and the city must have lost their paperwork. And besides that, there were others along with them who were against this pride event being held in Mansfield Square. The pressure campaign worked, and it was declared that no groups could reserve the square for events in July, in June and July, while the city worked out how best to allow groups to reserve public spaces. Well, the best way to ensure that a larger number of LGBTQ folks and allies will come to your town is by forcing a pride event to be relocated due to bigotry. So instead, the plan was made to protest this group that had dubbed themselves Mansfield Community Values Alliance, forcing the Pride event out of the square. So yesterday, around a hundred folks gathered in the Mansfield Square wearing pride colors and carrying signs of love, inclusion, and welcome. The Mansfield Community Values Alliance had a similar amount of people there. They commandeered the gazebo, setting up a large sound system with a keyboard and microphones and a little sign that says, This is not an event, this is a protest. Our group was spirited, attempting to drown out the less than savory scriptures that were read over the loudspeaker. I always find it interesting how these folks claim to love the Bible so much, but spend all of their time on just four or so passages. I spent my time talking with folks who were best kept occupied so they didn't go around trying to save members of the LGBTQ community because I know how much abuse people in that community have received from people of faith. I can take it, though, I must confess I did feel like crying the whole time. Though I have always been an ally for as long as I can remember, I've always been a member of an open and affirming congregation since I was a child up through adulthood. I feel a responsibility to folks in the LGBTQ community because of all of the spiritual abuse that has been suffered in churches. There are so many things in this world that I cannot fix, though believe me, I wish I could, and I will always do what I can to be a force of love and light in this world. And I know that there are so many in this congregation, if not all of you in this congregation who join me in that desire. But one thing I know I can do every step of the way, one thing I know I can commit to without wavering is ensuring that those in the LGBTQIA community who attend any church I serve will know that they are loved, will know that we truly mean it. There is no greater calling in my life than to make sure that any church I serve is a church that endeavors to be a safe one for those who are in the LGBTQ community. And the thing is, I know I don't always do this perfectly. I know that we as a church don't always do this perfectly because none of us are perfect, right? I know that there are times when we slip up or when we say the wrong thing, when we use the wrong pronouns, when we fail to recognize how some labels can diminish and conceal. I have learned so much in my time serving as a minister at a Brentwood Christian Church. I have paid more attention to language. I have noticed how prevalent the gender binary is in our hymns and songs, and I've worked to expand some of the language. I know that using a person's correct pronouns is hard for some people, and together we are working on it. I am always listening to feedback on how we can be better, on how we can become a safer space. And Brentwood has been endeavoring to live into that over the years. That's how we ended up with our gender-neutral bathrooms, was because of a call to make sure that we had a space where people could be and feel safe using the bathroom. And I feel my heart break when I learn of times when we've come up short or when we've failed in our ability to make this feel like a safe space. But those times of falling up short don't mean that we give up. Those are times instead that are a call for us to do better, to try harder, to listen more deeply, to honor who people tell us they are by using their correct pronouns, by seeing them as they want us to see them, no matter our preconceived notions. I know it can feel hard, but it is harder to exist in a world that refuses to see and accept you for who you are. Now, speaking of preconceived notions, that's something I heard come out of the mouths of a lot of the Mansfield Community Values Alliance folks. It is clear that they make a whole lot of assumptions about people in the LGBTQ community, assumptions that are unfair and are likely rooted in their own shortcomings and, let's be honest, their unhealthy obsessions. Hearing these people talk, hearing them say what they think the words of Jesus mean, the ways they logic their way around Jesus' proclamation that the greatest commandment was to love God with all your heart, mind, soul, and strength, and the second is like it, to love your neighbor as yourself, and then turn that into a narrow, judgmental declaration. That was really quite mind-boggling to me. It was a clear reminder of why I used to wear a shirt that said, as a Christian, I am sorry for the narrow-minded, judgmental, deceptive, manipulative actions of those who denied rights and equality to so many in the name of God. You can see me wearing this shirt in my profile picture on Facebook. I've worn that shirt to many a pride event. I may have worn that shirt to do yard work too many times, so it's no longer in any sort of shape for me to wear in public. But I have gotten another shirt, which you can see me wearing in this picture that we're gonna have up on the screen. I'm standing here with Jen Simmons, who is the pastor at National Avenue Christian Church, and you can't see the bottom line of my shirt, but it says, This pastor loves you. So that's the shirt I've started wearing since my other shirt is not fit for public viewing. Um, I've cut the neck out of it, and you know, it still says the things, and I've worn it a few times, and I was, I have to tell you, one time I went to the pet store to go pick up something really quick. I was wearing that shirt. I know I did not smell good. And this woman came over and just wanted to hug me because of what the words on my shirt said, and I was like, okay, I'll hug you, but I can't promise I don't smell bad. So, you know, but that's okay. She so desperately needed to see that message that it didn't matter to her. She just needed to see those words of apology and those words of love coming from someone who is a Christian. So I wore this shirt to the protest yesterday. I can't tell you the number of times that I have worn this shirt and am greeted with utter disbelief by those who come up to me. Sometimes the look on their face is shock, then sadness, and then relief. Some ask me for a hug when they see me because they just can't believe I would show up at an event like this. Some just want to talk. Yesterday I stood in the park where we relocated for pizza to engage in the original intent of Heartland Pride, which was to celebrate and find joy and solidarity in one another's company. Well, a woman came up to me and asked me if I was really a pastor. I was wearing my shirt that said, This pastor loves you, and I was holding my sign that says, as a pastor, I want you to know that you are loved beyond your wildest imagination, no matter what. But she still really wanted to make sure that I was a pastor. Because her experience of people of faith in her own community was less than loving when it came to those who were in the LGBTQ community. She proceeded to tell me that she was still reeling from a death by suicide of a youth that had happened not too far from where we stood. She talked about how the community had been less than supportive in the wake of that death. And from the things she was saying, I gathered that it was because this person may have been struggling with their identity, this young person. This woman knows so many young people who are struggling with their identity in this place that doesn't accept or love them when they openly declare their identity to be something that is not within what their city or town considers acceptable. She doesn't know what to do in the face of that, so she just wants to be loving. And she's just been dismayed at the lack of love that she sees in her community. And I am so glad that she was curious about this event and wanted to come and see for herself because I watched her make connections with other people who are living in rural Missouri and are wondering the same things and are seeking community. And it is my prayer that she's able to find community and support, not only for herself, but for the young people that are reaching out to her when they just don't know what else to do. So, what does all of this have to do with our scripture reading for this morning? Well, maybe nothing. And maybe everything. You see, we find Jesus at the beginning of this passage calling a tax collector, someone who was part of the community, a Judean, who sat at a toll booth collecting money from his fellow Judeans, money that benefited the empire while exploiting the Judeans. Because these tolls, they weren't just small, tiny amounts of money. You know, these were exploitative and extractive amounts that were being asked of folks. Now, Jesus saw this man who was not somebody that was looked upon favorably by others in the community, and he called him to follow him. Then he invited this tax collector, Matthew, to dinner, where they broke bread with a motley crew of ragamuffins described as sinners by some of the religious authorities who like to pretend that they were better than everyone else and that they alone had a monopoly on what it meant to be a man of God. They voiced their disdain to Jesus' disciples, and Jesus overheard them, and in response he quoted Hosea to them, saying, I desire mercy and not sacrifice. Go and learn what this means. Jesus gave the religious authorities homework. As one scholar writes, this quoting of Hosea is not a throwaway line. When Jesus quotes Hosea 6, 6, he says, I desire mercy, not sacrifice. The Greek word ileos, translated mercy, carries the force of the Hebrew word chesed. Hesed is hard to capture in one English word. It can mean mercy, faithful love, loyal love, steadfast solidarity, and covenant justice. And you can see this in the context that it's used in Hebrew Scripture. In Hosea, chesed is the loyalty God expects from a covenant community, especially in concrete acts of justice toward vulnerable people. Hosea is not rejecting worship, merely worship that leaves injustice untouch. If we treat mercy as private kindness, we drain the word of its prophetic power. Jesus is arguing from inside Torah's prophetic tradition alongside Amos, Micah, and Isaiah, he's not attacking that tradition. So the task is to rescue Chesed from sentimentality. The task is to recognize that Chesed is loving kindness rooted in solidarity and covenant justice. So Jesus reminds the religious leaders a desire of mercy, not sacrifice. Go and learn what this means. And as religious leaders, they know where they need to go to learn what this means. They know the text that Jesus is referring to. Well, right after Jesus issued that homework to the religious leaders, a leader in the community came to Jesus and knelt before him, saying, My daughter has just died, but come and lay your hand on her and she will live. And so Jesus followed the leader to his home, and on the way, the woman who had been a woman who had been bleeding for twelve years came up behind him and touched the fringe of his cloak. For she knew if she but touched Jesus' cloak, she would be made well. Jesus turned and saw her and said to her, Take heart, daughter, your faith has made you well. And then Jesus continued to the home of the leader and saw the crowd that had gathered and told them, Go away, the girl is not dead, but sleeping. The crowd laughed at him, but Jesus went into the house, took the girl by the hand, and she got up. And reports of this spread throughout the land. So we have a tax collector, a woman suffering from a condition that made her unclean, and a little girl who had died, all restored to life and community by the actions of Jesus. Three people who came from such different stratas of society, so much so, their encounters with Jesus are each a little different. The tax collector Matthew was minding his own business when Jesus called him to another life, a life where he didn't have to be bound up in the economic extraction of his people. Then we have a leader who humbled himself by kneeling before Jesus, begging him to restore his daughter to life. And then we have a woman with such incredible faith who knew she wasn't supposed to be out and about in public society due to her condition, but believed so deeply that just by touching the fringe of Jesus' cloak, she would be made well. In this story, we have two people of faith, two people of deep faith who are willing to act outside of their societal positions to seek healing. One for themselves, one for their daughter. And then in the tax collector, we have a man who likely didn't know that he needed saving. And I can't help but think of the many times that my eyes have been opened to the ways I had sometimes unknowingly participated in the oppression of others. This is a seemingly inescapable reality in the current manifestation of our capitalist economic system. And while I don't have time to break down capitalism and the ways it is playing out in today's sermon, I think it's important for me to say and for us to know that it does not have to be done this way. It does not have to be done in such an exploitative and extractive way. Where the exploitation of the masses is for the benefit of the obscene wealth for the very, very few. You ever have those moments where something comes out of your mouth and you're like, you know that toothpaste tube, you wish you could put it back in and it can't be put back in, but you can always apologize, right? Sometimes it took someone inviting me into conversation and helping me see a better way. In this morning's passage, I see Jesus meeting people where they are, honoring who they are, and showing them a new way to live, whether it was through actual healing or through actually seeing them as a human being worthy of dignity or through an invitation to live another way. I had all of these ideas swirling around in my head yesterday as I spoke with people who vehemently disagree with me, so much so they had to use huge sound equipment to make sure our message of love and solidarity wasn't the dominant sound heard. As I stood there with my sign, sometimes joining in the chants that we're being led by those in our group, sometimes standing in silence, observing this line of mostly men that stood in front of us as some sort of wall of protection from what they perceived to be our sinful ways. I looked at these men and I saw men with sad eyes, questioning eyes, and I couldn't help but wonder how many of these men might find solidarity and support in our group that was standing for the dignity and worth of all people in the LGBTQ community. I wondered which of these men might respond to an invitation by Jesus to live another way that didn't require spending time on a Saturday demeaning and bullying a group of people, making them listen to some big, strong men read carefully selected scriptures intended to scare people. I wondered if any of them had ever heard someone read to them out of the book of Isaiah from the 56th chapter, a chapter with the heading Salvation for Others, that speaks of the expansiveness of God's house, that speaks Particularly to eunuchs, a sexual and gender minority in that time who had their ability to carry on their line taken from them by men. To these eunuchs, the word of God through Isaiah promised them a memorial and a name better than sons or daughters, promising them an everlasting name that will endure forever. I wonder if the men who had been standing facing us had ever had someone read to them from that passage. I wonder if they had ever been in church and some heard someone read to them from Isaiah 58, shout out, do not hold back, lift up your voice like a trumpet, announce it to my people, their rebellion to the house of Jacob, their sins. Yet day after day they seek me and delight to know my ways, as if they were a nation that practice righteousness and did not forsake the ordinance of their God. They asked of me righteous judgments. They want God on their side. Why do we fast, but you do not see? Why humble ourselves, but you do not notice? Look, you serve your own interest on your fast day and oppress all of your workers. You fast only to quarrel and to fight and to strike with a wicked fist. Such fasting as you do today will not make your voice heard on high? Is not the fast I choose to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the straps of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free and to break every yoke? Isn't it not to share your bread with the hungry and bring the homeless poor into your house when you see the naked to cover them and not to hide yourself from your own kin? Then your light shall break forth like the dawn, and your healing shall spring up quickly. If you remove the yoke from among you and the pointing of the finger, the speaking of evil, if you offer your food to the hungry and satisfy the needs of the afflicted, then your light shall rise and the darkness and your gloom shall be like noonday. The Lord will guide you continually and satisfy your needs in parched places and make your bones strong, and you shall be like a watered garden, like a spring of water, whose waters never fail. I wonder if they've had that passage read to them, if they've studied it and allowed God to work in their hearts as they discern its meaning, if they follow the instruction of Jesus and study what it means to say and live the words, I desire mercy and not sacrifice. I wonder what would happen if they put away the four to seven biblical passage they use to clobber folks in the LGBTQ community and consider the breadth and width of Scripture. Learned to appreciate the ways it is often in conversation with itself. For instance, the words I shared with you from Isaiah 56 are directly in conversation with words we find in Deuteronomy that share a more narrow vision of who is welcome in God's house. I wonder so many things as I find myself face to face with those who feel the need to shout clobber passages at folks who are already facing so much targeted discrimination. So, yeah, this sermon is a little glimpse into the brain of a pastor who is trying her hardest to make sense of this world that sometimes seems so bent on destroying beauty. But all I know is last week in Mansfield, a group of people used bullying to stop another group of people from having a celebration on the town square where they could find solidarity, support, and love in the world that is continually trying to take that away from them. Yesterday in Mansfield, that bullying group commandeered the very same space during the exact time when that celebration of solidarity and support was to take place. But even then, their bullying did not dominate the space. Love still showed up. Solidarity and support still showed up. They tried to squash Heartland pride, but they made it stronger. More of us showed up to show our love and support. Folks who were curious how it would all play out showed up and saw people sharing joy despite the unkind words being read over the sound system. They saw folks speaking up and out that hate does not make us great, that homophobia and transphobia do not have to be bound up to Christianity. I saw signs declaring that we can be Christian and an ally, that we can be Christian and gay, that we can be Christian and trans, that we can be Christian and bisexual, that we can be Christian and a proud member of the LGBTQIA community. None of those things are mutually exclusive, despite what the amplified voices on that square tried to tell us. And I want to say to the LGBTQIA folks in this space and to the LGBTQIA folks who are joining us online via the live stream, that I, as a Christian and as a pastor, am deeply sorry for the ways that faith has been used to bring grave harm and abuse to you and members of your community. And I know that I am not alone in making this apology. Here I'm standing with a fellow pastor making that apology. I am surrounded in this room by people who are allies who are also intent on making this apology. I know that there are so many who are digging deep into their faith and discovering the love that overcomes hate, the love that shows up in the face of hate, the love that takes people by the hand and shows them another way, the love that brings healing to those on the margins, the love that restores community, the love that brings new life in our midst. May God continue to flow through our lives, igniting that love that restores, rebuilds, and redeems. And may we work every day to keep our hearts open to that love. Thanks be to God, who never abandons us in the face of hardship and calamity, and continues to show us the way of love with every step. Let us join our hearts, minds, and voices together as we enter into our time of prayer.