Outside In

Epiphany 4C  01/31/10

Jeremiah 1:4-10, Luke 4:21-30

Grace and peace to you from God our Father and creator, and from his Christ—our Lord and redeemer, the Son and savior, Jesus.

It’s very close now. Can you feel it? That apex of television programming, that purported pinnacle of Nielsen ratings, that purveyor of pricey pre and post show propaganda, that pied piper of people pressing together to perceive two groups pitted against each other, that display of piquant pride of past performers featured once more, the precocious pleas of present players plaintively pleading to popularize their part in the big party. Ahhh! We’ll tune in the tube (or energize the flat panel) gather enough snacks and drinks to stock a small, island nation, then kick back in the old recliner and watch… [the Super Bowl]

No, not the Super bowl! LOST. That’s right—all the world sits in thrall of the beginning of the final season of the tv drama, Lost. To answer questions like, “What was that polar bear doing there on the island in the first episode?” and “Does the island really have healing power and the power to move around in time and space?” and “Will there be  spinoffs—in the same vein as CSI and Law and Order? For example, will there be a “Hurley and Kate plus Eight (extras),” or The Real Housewives of the Dharma Initiative, or (my personal fave) FOUND.

Yes, finally we’ll know the significance of the number string that made Hurley a lottery winner and saves the island from periodic destruction. And finally we’ll discover what’s the story behind the group of people who both those in the initiative and  from the plane as well, call “The Others.” Those scary, hostile, feared, but at the same time, generally unknown group, whose shadowy existence baffles both established groups. To them they are “others,” not part of the group, or any group, people whose main characteristic is that they are not “us.” I hope that relationship is transformed at season’s finale. I’d like to see how they become something other than other to each other.

I’m hoping it will teach all of us church-goers something. Because we got some “others” around here. And Jesus wants us to get to know them. In fact, he’s not beyond tweaking your conscience or reordering your world, or even offending you in order to get his point across. And that point isn’t about sitting comfortably in the Father’s house, listening to God’s word. The point is being out there, living it. Because, and I’m going to be provocative now—because this building, its programs, and the gospel message they serve aren’t for us—they’re for the others.

Our whole mission is, as author and pastor of Community Church of Joy in Glendale AZ Walter Kallestadwrites, “building a community for others.” Everything for the others, all our hard work and financial support, all for the benefit of those others. All for the others. A plot twist which would definitely upset Jack and Sawyer. One that challenges our conceptions of ownership of “our” building, our activities, our equipment, our liturgy, our sacraments. This place is not primarily for us to enjoy and hide out from the world in. It is for others.

It is a concept that was tough right from the word go, we can see this in the reaction to Jesus little sermon at his home synagogue in Nazareth. It starts out with Jesus’ friends and neighbors and family being supportive enough—Jesus is, after all, their homey. Little Jesus bar Joseph. They’ve been in the synagogue with him on countless occasions. So, as always, they compliment his reading of the scroll, and nod their heads in blissful ignorance of the import of his tag line, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your presence.”

It’s not until Jesus starts breaking open that Isaiah text, relating it to two other stories—stories that shine a light on God’s preferential treatment of the widow of Zarephath and Naaman, the Syrian general, both foreigners—it’s not until Jesus begins highlighting a passed-by Israel, a missing pat on the back for them, that they change their tune.

“Punk! Who does he think he is, preaching that God loves and includes those others? Doesn’t he know we are the elect, the inner circle, the frozen chosen? Where does he get off handing the keys of the kingdom to them?” They are offended.

As are we, when Jesus turns the church outside in—making it a welcome center for the others who are gathered by us, as we live the church inside out. These are others whom God wants, but we don’t—unless they come on our terms and conditions. Leave your shoes and your sins at the door, please. You can come in, but God help you if you sit in one of our seats, or have the scent of controversy upon you. Then watch out, we’ll ignore you to death—or at least until you take the hint and leave.

For Jesus, grace is for everyone, but it shows its face plainly where it is needed most. Its distribution is not a parlor game (Jesus called it: “Doctor, cure yourself!” Hey sonny, do one of those healings you do for  Uncle Ishmael – he was in the bathroom). It’s serious spiritual triage. Later in Luke Jesus says “I came to help those who are in need of a doctor. Those who aren’t sick can wait.” Again, that style of universal health care is offensive.

So offensive that the people of Nazareth make like they’re going to toss Jesus off the local cliff. We’re apt to “shoot the messenger” too. Be it the pastor who walks the thin lines of personal conviction, popular culture, and grace in place (that’s my new catchy phrase to describe the contextual practicality of the gospel message—and God’s willingness to adapt the path to the means of grace). Or perhaps the one we’re fixing to toss is the Synod, or ELCA, or the various gatherings and assemblies thereof  with which we disagree. The question is, will the controversy over the others subside and dissipate into a non-issue, as did the dust up at Nazareth that Sabbath so long ago?

The issue of same gendered relationships has highlighted one group of “outsiders.” And despite my discomfort and ambiguous feelings about the issue, I want to tell you about someone I know. Someone who struggles with this issue from within and without. One whose life was altered by the reactions to it. One who drifts on the edges of the church – not sure he has a place within its walls, despite his great faith and affection for God’s holy word. He is “other.”

I knew him from my days in outdoor ministry, and he was a pleasantly strange youngster who was polite and yet unique. He loved playing the trumpet and Louie Armstrong was his hero. He valued God and family above all else, and was well versed in the bible and Lutheran history. His dream was to be a Lutheran pastor. I thought that was exactly what he would do.

The, during his college years he came out to me and to his friends and family.  And, while that might have been a relief for some in his position, for him it was disastrous. His father disowned him. His mother was forbidden to see him. He was thrown out of his home. He dropped out of college which he could no longer afford. He lost his job. And while he kept going to church, he no longer felt totally welcome there. He had somehow gone from one sitting on the inside looking out, to an outcast trapped between who he was and who he wished he could still be. He was other.

But he never lost his faith in the God who claimed him as His beloved at baptism. Despite all, he could still feel God’s love active in him—not rejection, but invitation. His favorite psalm, 27, summed it up for him. “The Lord is my light and my salvation, of whom shall I be afraid? …If my father and mother forsake me, the lord will take me up. …I believe I shall see the goodness of the lord in the land of the living..be strong, let your heart take courage—wait for the lord.”

His patience is greater than mine. He’s still waiting for this world to set aside his otherness and to accept him as saint and sinner, fallen child of a loving and forgiving God, who sent aid to a foreign woman (other) and healing to a commander of an army of one of Israel’s threatening most neighbors (definitely other), and who sent his son so that others may believe in him and become worthy of God’s love.

My friend is one of the others. I hope someday he won’t be. Until that time, despite the fact that it may offend some of you, I will be his friend, his pastor, and I will pray for the day when we can come to the Lord’s table together—neither outsider or insider, but sinners in the arms of a forgiving God. Realizing that other is a terminology that God holds dear, and yet works hard to make extinct. May we as a congregation of differing thoughts concerning these others, welcome them to this place still in the name of the Lord and in love. For the greatest of these is love.    AMEN