Author: lakewooducc

Date: December 12, 2010
Scripture Lesson: Isaiah 35:1-10
Sermon: Paths to Peace?
Pastor: Rev. Kim Wells

The conquest of Mexico by the Spanish began in earnest on Good Friday 1519. An appropriate day, considering the carnage. In just over 10 years, the mission was completed. Theologian Virgil Elizondo, a native of the United States, offers this description of the fulfillment of that mission, pursued in honor of God and for the evangelization of the Christian church. Elizondo tells us:

The time is 1531. The place is the city of Mexico – site of what had been the most developed, advanced, and well-organized civilization of pre-Columbian America, a city now reduced to ashes, its canals filled with corpses, its streets filled with people moving around as if they were the living dead. It was the epicenter of the great cultural earthquake that had destroyed the entire edifice of native civilizations. The previously highly disciplined people were now wandering around aimlessly, with no life, purpose, or direction The warriors had been killed or reduced to humiliating servitude; their women had been violated; their beautiful cities had been burned; and their gods were being destroyed. Their old ways were being discredited, and the new ways did not make sense to them. Nothing of meaning or value was left; there was no reason to live. And on top of all this, the Europeans had brought new diseases that devastated the remaining population, making the stench of death the constant companion of everyday existence. [Guadalupe: Mother of the New Creation, Virgil Elizondo, pp. 25-26]

And this was all done in the name of God, the God of the Christian people of Spain, who had come to evangelize the native peoples, offering them the love of Christ and eternal life in heaven. They were trying to prevent these poor heathen from rotting in hell. Such were their noble intentions. The means, they believed, were justified by the ends.

This was the context for the encounter between the poor, indigenous peasant, Juan Diego and the mother of God, the Virgin of Guadalupe. On a hill, sacred to the Indians as the holy place of their most holy goddess, a poor, dispossessed peasant, Juan Diego has several encounters with a female divine presence, whom he recognizes as the mother of God, the God of the Indians as well as the Christians. She shows compassion and respect for Juan Diego, unlike the human representatives of the church, who want to convert the peasants, but not treat them with respect and certainly not include them in any leadership capacity in the church. Guadalupe, however, entrusts Juan Diego with the mission of going to the local bishop and convincing him to build a church on the sacred hill. Not surprisingly, the bishop’s staff, and the bishop himself, have little time, patience, or respect for Juan Diego. But Juan Diego persists. Finally, the bishop tells him to come back with a sign, and then he will listen. So Juan Diego goes back to the holy hill, encounters the Virgin once again, and tells her that he needs a sign. The hill is barren save for desert scrub. As a sign, the Virgin produces a hillside of flowers, which Juan Diego picks and takes in his cloak to the bishop. The bishop can’t believe the profusion of flowers, and can’t imagine where Juan Diego has found them. Juan Diego explains, and then as the flowers are removed from his cloak, the image of the Virgin of Guadalupe appears on the cloak. When you go to the Basilica of the Virgin of Guadalupe in Mexico City you can see this cloak, in the church that was built where the Virgin requested it to be built.

The encounter between Juan Diego and the Virgin became a bridge of reconciliation between the Spanish and the Mexicans. There was the integration of the feminine and the masculine which had characterized native Mexican religion. There was the respect and dignity shown to a peasant. There was the honor given to a dark skinned person that challenged racial prejudice. There was the comfort and consolation that Guadalupe came to offer. There was the affirmation of life and beauty in the gift of flowers. The Virgin could have given Juan Diego a sword as a sign for the bishop. But instead, the case is made with flowers. The rendition of the encounter between Juan Diego and Guadalupe is the absolute antithesis of the encounter between the Catholic Spaniards and the native Mexicans. And, yet, the Virgin of Guadalupe became not only the patron saint of the Catholic church in Mexico, but she is respected throughout Latin America, as well as Europe and Asia and Africa. And she has become a significant figure not only for Catholics but for people of all religions and no religion. A dark skinned female figure appearing on the cloak of a worthless peasant. Almost 500 years later, she is one of the most recognized religious figures in human history. And today, December 12, is her saint day which is observed literally around the world.

The two vignettes – about the Mexican conquest and the encounter between Juan Diego and the Virgin of Guadalupe – these two vignettes typify two enduring strands of the Christian tradition. There is the strand of domination and conquest, supposedly to further the mission of the church and for the salvation of more people. And there is the strand of non-violent compassion for the poor and dispossessed. And we see these two very different themes borne out not only in Christian tradition, but in other religions as well, even up to the present.

While the Dalai Lama is promoting anti-violence even in resolution of the differences between Tibet and China, there are other Buddhists who are taking up arms against the Chinese. There are those within Judaism who are promoting peaceful coexistence with Palestine and the cessation of hostility by Israel against the Palestinians, while others promote continued violent conquest of the territory. In Islam, there are are those who are advocating for non-violence and peaceful coexistence with other religions and cultures, while a powerful minority pursue armed conquest and domination.

In Christianity throughout the ages, there have been voices for armed conquest and empire, as well as voices for anti-violence, compassion, and peaceful coexistence. There are those who have justified war, relying on Augustine’s just war theory, as a necessary tool for defense and protection. We know these perspectives. World War II was justified to stop Hitler and to save the Jews. The bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki prevented the potential for even more suffering and death. While other voices advocated for pacifism and conscientious objection. Jeff’s father was a conscientious objector in World War II, and worked as part of an ambulance corps in Europe helping wounded soldiers.

So we are very familiar with these two impulses in religion – one that justifies the use of violence, and one that promotes compassion as we see in the story of Guadalupe, as well as in the more recent witness of Mohandas Gandhi, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr, and the Dalai Lama.

These two diverging impulses in religion can be seen in the scripture lesson that we heard from Isaiah this morning. We are given beautiful images: with wilderness glad, the desert blossoming, joy and singing, weak hands made strong, feeble knees fortified, the removal of fear, the healing of blindness and deafness, the waters bringing life to the dry barren wilderness. It sounds like Guadalupe providing all of the flowers for Juan Diego! Then, in the middle of this glorious vision of Isaiah, we are told, “Here is your God. God will come with vengeance, with terrible recompense.” There it is: the two strands. Comfort and violence.

And this tension persists in Christianity. We justify violence in some circumstances while promoting compassion and peace. The church may tell a woman, stay with the husband who abuses you because divorce is a sin and people can change. We punish the murderer with the death penalty. You may spank your child for hitting another child, because we don’t hit. Help and protect people around the world, even if it means killing them and devastating their country in what we consider justified violence for a greater good. We deal with these two competing and diverging impulses in Christianity constantly.

In this season, as we prepare to celebrate the birth of Jesus, let’s take a moment to examine the role of Jesus in the relationship to what is perceived as justified violence, and compassion and anti-violence. In some ways, we can see remnants of these two threads in the life of Jesus. He is considered to be of the line of David, as in slew Goliath, a warrior king responsible for the killing of thousands for the cause of God. And Jesus is known as the Prince of Peace. So what do we see when we look at the teachings of Jesus that have come down to us through our scriptures? We see the teachings of not only non-violence, but anti-violence. Turn the other cheek. Pray for your enemy. Do good to those who persecute you. Do not kill. Do not take an eye for an eye. Those who live by the sword die by the sword. These teachings are very much anti-violent. In addition, we do not see Jesus participate in or support violence, even what was considered justified violence. For instance in one story, Jesus defends a woman about to be stoned for adultery when he would have been completely justified by the law in picking up a rock and throwing it at her. We do not have any stories of Jesus directly perpetrating violence. In fact, what we have is the direct opposite. He does not even defend himself verbally in the stories of his accusation and trial. He is the complete pacifist. The totally innocent victim. He gives no cause for being associated in any way with what could be seen as religiously justified violence, even in self defense.

That is the unique revelation of Jesus. We are told that God promises to do a new thing in the life of the faith community. In Jesus, the new thing is the absolute abdication of violence. In Jesus, a life of compassion, generosity, and forgiveness which ends in a completely unjustified death, we see the initiative to break the cycle of justified violence. Throughout human history, religions have justified the use of violence to respond to chaos, disorder, and imbalance. Religion has sanctioned violence to create a new equilibrium, order, and peace. But then, the need for more violence eventually emerges, and the cycle continues. In the crucifixion of Jesus, a completely unjustified act, we see the initiative to break that cycle.

In the earliest days of Christianity, people did not preach Jesus Christ resurrected, but Jesus Christ crucified. Because his completely unwarranted, unjustified death was seen as breaking the cycle of religiously justified violence. This was the new thing God was doing. This was the new revelation. No more vengeance, retribution, or divinely justified punishment. But as time went on, the faithful reverted to the old concepts and overlaid them on the crucifixion experience, once more making the crucifixion justified violence. Seeing it as God providing Jesus to die for our sins, Jesus being the scapegoat for human sin, Jesus being the sacrifice to appease God. And we are right back to the traditional concepts used in Judaism and Christianity as well as other religions to justify violence: The very thing that Jesus was trying to transform, convert, and overcome through a completely unjustified death. There was no defense. No satisfactory explanation. No accounting for this killing of a person who was completely good, loving, generous, and compassionate. It was an indefensible death. Christ crucified. A new thing. Not the old pattern. A witness to break the cycle. But people could not stand the threat to the status quo. And eventually integrated the crucifixion back into the religious tradition of justified violence. And the stress between the conflicting views of violence in the Christian tradition continues.

We have seen it recently played out in international relations. President Obama went to visit the troops in Afghanistan. In a visit to a base, he told the troops, “As President of the United States, I have no greater responsibility than keeping the American people secure. I could not meet that responsibility, we could not protect the American people, we could not enjoy the blessings of our liberty without the extraordinary service that each and every one of you performs each and every day.” [“Commander in Chief visits 10th CAB Soldiers at Bagram Airfield,” Dec. 10, 2010, Staff Sgt. Todd Pouliot, 10th Combat Aviation Brigade, http://www.army.mil/-news/2010/12/10/49238-commander-in-chief-visits-10th-cab-soldiers-at-bagram-airfield/%5D This statement implies violence is necessary to protect blessings, divinely bestowed gifts. Obama’s words of support and encouragement definitely draw upon the tradition of religiously and morally defensible violence. And Obama comes from a Christian context – personal and social.

Then we have the controversy over the recently awarded Nobel Peace Prize. The award recognized Liu Xiaobo of China. In a statement to the Chinese court in December 2009 before receiving a prison sentence of 11 years for his subversive activity, Xiaobo declared:

I have no enemies and no hatred. Hatred can rot away at a person’s intelligence and conscience. Enemy mentality will poison the spirit of a nation, incite cruel mortal struggles, destroy a society’s tolerance and humanity, and hinder a nation’s progress toward freedom and democracy. That is why I hope to be able to transcend my personal experiences as I look upon our nation’s development and social change, to counter the regime’s hostility with utmost goodwill, and to dispel hatred with love.” [St. Petersburg Times, 12/11/10, p. 3A]

The US president, who comes from a Christian context makes statements that could never have come from the lips of Jesus, while the Chinese citizen, from a communist country, an anti-Christian context, makes a statement that could very well have come from the mouth of Jesus.

To add to the irony, China boycotted the Nobel Peace Prize award ceremony and would not allow the jailed Liu Xiaobo or anyone from his family to attend. China urged other nations to shun the ceremony as well. The US completely supports the Nobel Peace Prize process and supported the ceremony. But Iraq and Afghanistan, where we are supposedly morally justified in our military efforts, refused to attend the ceremony. Makes you wonder just what is our violence is accomplishing.

The divergent themes of religiously justified violence and compassion and anti-violence continue to coexist in a precarious relationship. The tensions and the inconsistencies are becoming ever more evident. And this is a piece of what is undermining the perceived legitimacy and authority of Christianity in the world today.

In Mexico, the Catholic church annihilated indigenous people, while claiming to have come to bring the country to Christ and save the people from hell by offering them the Christian God of love. While the heathen Indian responds with the Virgin of Guadalupe, the mother of God, defending the poor, the downtrodden, the Indians, the women, etc. in a way absolutely consistent with the ministry of Jesus.

There was and is irony and inconsistency all over the place in our religious expression and theology. But the message of Jesus is not ironic or inconsistent or complicated or convoluted. His life was about love and peace. Pure and simple. And you cannot live peace, create peace, pursue peace, or impose peace through violent means. Eventually, violence begets more violence. And the reason for this season is to celebrate the birth of the one we believe had the divine mission of breaking that very cycle. The birth of Jesus is the birth of peace. May we, too, birth that peace. Amen.

In addition to Elizondo’s book about the Virgin of Guadalupe, the book Violence Unveiled: Humanity at the Crossroads by Gil Bailie was used in the preparation of this sermon though not directly quoted.

A reasonable effort has been made to appropriately cite materials referenced in this sermon. For additional information, please contact Lakewood United Church of Christ.

December 5, 2010
Scripture Lesson: Isaiah 11:1-10
Sermon: Facing Fear
Pastor: Rev. Kim P. Wells

On August 7, 1974, Philippe Petit stepped out onto a wire cable illegally rigged between the newly constructed north and south towers of the World Trade Centers in New York City. As he commenced his performance on the high wire, the police were dispatched to apprehend Petit. One of the officers, Sargent Charles Daniels, later reported his experience:I observed the tightrope ‘dancer’ -because you couldn’t call him a ‘walker’ – approximately halfway between the two towers. And upon seeing us he started to smile and laugh and he started going into a dancing routine on the high wire. . . And when he got to the building we asked him to get off the high wire but instead he turned around and ran back out into the middle. . . He was bouncing up and down. His feet were actually leaving the wire and then he would resettle back on the wire again. . . Unbelievable really. . . Everybody was spellbound in the watching of it. [Wikipedia, “Philippe Petit”]

After performing on the wire for 45 minutes, Petit stepped onto the roof of the tower, was arrested, taken for psychological evaluation, jailed, and then released, in exchange for a free performance for the public, this time in Central Park! Petit’s exploit is described as “the artistic crime of the century.”

Those who witnessed the walk, Petit’s friends and associates, the police, the public, describe the event as “beautiful,” “profound,” “awesome,” “extraordinary,” “magical,” “magnificent and mysterious,” “beyond anything you could ever imagine.” Petit walked, jumped, knelt, saluted, even laid down on the cable, making eight crossings 110 stories above the street. It was a moment never to be forgotten by those who witnessed it. Beautiful and thrilling.

When we listen to the prophecy of Isaiah and the vision of the peaceable kingdom, this image is also one of extraordinary beauty. The human community is led with wisdom, compassion, and sensitivity to the poor and meek. There is absolute harmony between humanity and nature, and within the natural world. It is captivating. Wolf and lamb. Leopard and goat. Calf and lion. Cow and bear. All together in peace. The nursing child plays at the hole of the poisonous snake. This vision is magical. Beautiful. Profound. Awesome. Extraordinary. Magnificent and mysterious. Beyond anything you could ever imagine.

The 19th century painter Edward Hicks has memorialized this vision in his paintings The Peaceable Kingdom. He paints a forest scene safe for all animals, and all humans, even babies and children. In one version, William Penn is making peace with American Indians, a contemporary dimension of the biblical vision. A vision of peace that is spellbinding and magnificent.

For high wire artist Philippe Petit to realize his dream of tightrope walking between the World Trade Centers, he had to overcome incredible fear. His girlfriend at the time, Annie, says, “We were petrified. Very worried.” Petit’s best friend, Jean-Louis, was beside himself. As the day came, he reflects, “Everybody felt more and more nervous. . . We are going to die. We are going to live.” The whole thing was extremely stressful. Though they had planned and plotted and practiced for 6 years, they were still possessed by fear. But they continued. And finally the moment came when Petit stepped off of the roof and onto the cable and the dance began. When his friends saw the smile on Petit’s face, they finally relaxed. They had triumphed over their fears.

When we think of the vision of peace in Isaiah, here, too, we can see the overcoming of enormous fear. Think of the risks to the lesser animals to lie down with a predator. What about the fear of the parents for their children playing with dangerous animals? What about the fear of the human leaders who take the risk of ruling with peaceable intentions, with pure hearts of goodness, banking on a vision beyond anything anyone had ever imagined? Would these leaders be taken advantage of? Ousted” Killed, even? There are great risks involved in fulfilling this vision portrayed by Isaiah. People and animals put their lives on the line. Usually we think of fear associated with those who go to war, but as we think deeply about peace, we see that there are fears to be faced in the pursuit of peace as well.

When we think about the ministry of Jesus, we can see that he, too, faced his share of fears. There was the fear for his personal safety. Think of the story of the crowd at his hometown synagogue trying to drive him over a cliff. Or the Pharisees plotting to kill him. And then there is the betrayal, trial, and crucifixion. Much cause for fear. There was fear of failure. What if people did not take to his message? In the gospels we’re told of how he comes out of the wilderness temptation experience raring to go, but then meeting unexpected resistance along the way. Would he fail? Jesus knew fear for the well-being of his followers. If he was in danger, then his followers would be, too. And he probably also had fear for the security of the Jewish people living under the tyrannical rule of the Romans. So Jesus, too, knew fear in many ways. But this did not deter him. He did not let the fear prevent him from investing his life in his mission of peace.

We, too, face fear on many fronts. Some of us face fear at home, perhaps because of domestic violence. Or maybe we are afraid in the neighborhood we live in, for our personal safety. Then there are economic fears. Will the money hold out? Will we loose a job? Will we have to foreclose on our home? Will there be money for schooling? Retirement? Will we have to choose between paying for food and paying for needed medication? There are fears of crime. Fears of aging and dying. Fears around personal change. Fears that we cannot adapt to technological change at the pace it is occurring. Fears of pain and hurt in relationships. Fears of adapting to new attitudes and social norms. Fears of failure; failing ourselves, failing others, failing God. There are fears of not being liked or accepted. Fears of not being successful, however we may define that. There are fears about what will happen to people we care about, our children and grandchildren. There are fears around addiction and the toll that takes. Fears relating to health concerns. Fears about the environment and global warming. There are fears of outside threats – terrorism, and the like. You are reminded every time you fly.

There are also fears that relate directly to international peace. One country is afraid of another. And so defends itself out of fear. Israel is afraid of Palestine. Palestine is afraid of Israel. Christians are afraid of Muslims. Muslims are afraid of Christians. People are afraid of loosing their way of life. Their culture. Their language. Their access to resources, like food and water and energy. And then they react in ways that are aggressive and defensive. Fear. Fear. And more fear.

There is so much fear around us and within us each and every day. And fear can be very powerful. But it is our responsibility to decide how much power we are going to give those fears. We determine if we will let fear control us. We choose how much influence fear will have in our lives. Will fear prevent us from full and abundant life? Will it prevent us from birthing peace? It is up to us.

Philippe Petit, the tightrope walker, saw an illustration of the still to be constructed World Trade Center towers in a magazine in a dentist’s office in France when he was 18 years old. As he says it, “but the object of my dream does not exist yet.” The towers had yet to be built. Then they were built. And Petit came to New York to see the towers that he was determined to use as a stage for a tightrope performance. When he came out of the subway and saw the towers for the first time, his reaction was, “Impossible.” He says, “My dream was destroyed instantly.” It was clearly impossible. “Out of human scale.”

Fear. Of failure. Of death. Insurmountable. It could not be done. And yet, he reflects, something, “pulls me.” There was something at work stronger than the fear. A vision. A dream.

When it comes to the pursuit of peace, in our lives and in the world, there will always be fear. It looks impossible. It cannot be done. There cannot be a world with no war, no gun violence, no domestic violence, no bullying in schools, no injustice, no economic violence, no violence to the earth. It’s simply impossible.

And those fears will hold sway, if we don’t have a vision, a dream that is more compelling. Stronger than the fear. A dream that cannot be denied. A hunger for justice and righteousness that pulls us. The images in scripture of the peaceable kingdom are meant to do just that. Pull us onward, in spite of our fears. Jesus’ stories of the realm of God, told again and again, are intended to draw us in. Captivate us. Compel us. Pull us. Past our fear.

Fear loves a vacuum. It will fill every empty crevice of our imaginations. We have to have a dream that is huge, strong, and consuming that will overcome and drive out fear. We have to cultivate, tend, and feed the divine dream of peace so that it is stronger than our fears.

This season of Advent as we prepare for the birth of Jesus, who was taken in by that dream, and overcame all of his fears, we are encouraged to rekindle our passion for the dream of peace. We are drawn to revision those dreams of righteousness, of justice, of anti-violence, of peace on earth good will to all. This is a time to be captivated by the beauty of creation and all that life is intended to be. This is a time to become enchanted once again by the magic of selfless service, compassion, generosity and kindness. And it takes the angels, the shepherds, the kings, the innkeeper, the poor peasant parents, the lion and the lamb, the wolf and the sheep, pulling out all the stops, to give us a vision glorious enough to overcome our fears.

When Philippe Petit stepped off of the tight rope, he was taken into custody, as were his collaborators. They were arrested. They knew they had broken the law, though for an act of beauty, not evil or violence or harm. They had given the world a gift, though they had defied authority and employed deception of many kinds. Looking back, Petit counsels, “Exercise rebellion!” For the sake of his dream, and the beauty of that artistic undertaking, a gift to the world, they had exercised rebellion.

So many times in scripture when a divine messenger approaches a human, the opening words are, “Fear not.” In the story of the angel Gabriel coming to Mary, the first thing the angel tells her is, “Fear not.” In our pursuit of peace, with its myriad manifestations of beauty – within ourselves, in our relationships, in our social order, in international relations, in relationship with the earth – we must exercise rebellion over fear: The fear that would hold us back from living the dream of the beautiful realm of peace. As we face our fears, and rebel against them, we will know peace – beautiful, profound, awesome, extraordinary, magical, magnificent and mysterious, thrilling beyond anything you could ever imagine. Peace. Amen.

The information and quotations related to Philippe Petit are taken from the movie, “Man on Wire,” except as noted.

A reasonable effort has been made to appropriately cite materials referenced in this sermon. For additional information, please contact Lakewood United Church of Christ.