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Showing posts with label Nelson Mandela. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nelson Mandela. Show all posts

Monday, November 23, 2020

"Put the Rock Down" (Mark 11:20-25)

 


watch it here - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zRSrSUQE9S8&t=2s

Sunday, November 15, 2020

 

            What can we contribute to the public good?    Ah, so many questions.  Who do I mean by ‘we?’  I mean the church – Hillside, a local congregation, and believers nationwide and worldwide, the community of faith.  What about, public good? By that I mean the people of the community – the public.  By ‘good,’ I mean conditions that enable as many as possible to thrive. 

‘Good’ would be a reduction in poverty and elimination of food and housing insecurity.  If people aren’t worried about eating or having a roof over their heads, they can concentrate their money, energy, and time on living an enriching life.

‘Good’ refers to relationships.  Everyone is fighting right now.  People fight about wearing masks or not wearing masks.  People condemn each other over politics.  In one family, a woman was on one side of the Biden-Trump divide, opposite her cousin.  Discouraged, she overlooked a lifetime of close family bonds and declared they have nothing in common but that their mothers were sisters.  In another case, two brothers, both over 60, refuse to talk to each because one called the other a ‘socialist.’  ‘Good’ is the repair of these fractured relationships.

Do ‘we’ – the church – have any responsibility for the ‘public good,’ for feeding the hungry, helping those who struggle, and bringing together those who have turn against each other?  Does God call us to be the voice of healing and hope? 

Yes.  In 2019, our elders and deacons adopted the slogan – “At Hillside, we follow Jesus, love others, and share hope.”  We know we are living into this motto when our actions as a church lift people from despair and draw them to Jesus.  Hence the question, what can we contribute to the public good?

We have a lot to contribute!  Love, eternal hope, joy, purpose.  This morning, we focus on forgiveness.  Forgiveness is not a uniquely Christian idea.  Other faiths teach forgiveness.  People who have no faith find it in themselves to offer it. The distinct Christian gift to the world is the message of Jesus.   

We can’t present a Christianity that doesn’t include forgiveness as a core value.  Expressing divine love is what we do.  They know we are Christians by our love.  What can we offer, to contribute to the public good?  Forgiveness!

Jesus tells his disciples, “When you stand praying, forgive if you have anything against anyone; so [then] your father in heaven may also forgive you” (Mk 11:25).  He says this after having ridden, on Sunday, into Jerusalem on a donkey with admirers shouting “Hosanna.  Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.”  From Monday to Thursday of that week, he will teach in the outer court of the temple.  It’s as if he is piling on the lessons, deflecting challenges, and sharing final instructions before he will die.  Could you or I focus knowing that heartbreaking betrayals and gruesome suffering and death lie immediately ahead?

On one of the trips to the city from where they stayed in the outlying village of Bethany, Jesus sees a fig tree with no ripe fruit on it; even though it is not the season for figs, he curses the tree.  It’s a prophetic act akin to Isaiah walking across the city barefoot and Ezekiel lying on his side for 300 days.  Prophets did odd things so their listeners would remember more vividly their message.  People didn’t just remember John the Baptist’s sermons; they remembered his coarse clothing, his diet of honey-covered bugs, and river baptism.  Cursing the fig tree caught the disciples’ attention.

When they walked that way the next day, Peter marveled that the tree had withered overnight (11:20-21).  Not batting an eye, Jesus says to Peter and the disciples, “Have faith in God.  Truly I tell you if you say to this mountain, ‘Be taken up and thrown into the sea,’ and if you do not doubt in your heart, it will come to pass.”  Jesus did not hate fig trees and he did not want to change Jerusalem’s topography.  He wanted his disciples, us included, to understand that prayer makes a difference.  God listens.  When we pray in faith, God’s power comes. 

Note the connections.  The fig tree represented the system of sacrificial worship.  Sin separates us from God and the sacrificial worship system could not overcome the damaging affects sin had on God’s relationship with human beings.  That system did not produce righteousness or salvation as its fruit.  It was fruitless, like the condemned tree.  Jesus later on makes a similar point when he talks about tearing down the temple.  When he says he will rebuild it, he’s talking about his resurrection.  The temple no longer produces the fruit of new life.  That can only be had through faith in him. 

After teaching about mountain-moving prayer, he connects forgiving others with receiving forgiveness from God.  Of course, God’s forgiveness is not conditional.  God doesn’t forgive us if we forgive each other.  Jesus hung on the cross abandoned by his followers and berated by his despisers.  No one repented as he suffered.  His death, for everyone, was God’s definitive declaration of love for humanity.

The reason Jesus ties forgiving each other to the forgiveness that comes from God and to the replacement of temple-worship with the worship of Jesus is the posture of receiving.  Every time you or I forgive each other, it’s a sign we have received God’s forgiveness.  We don’t just talk about it.  We stand as new creations, forgiven being.  God’s grace takes affect when we receive it.  Standing as forgiven ones, we cannot withhold forgiveness. We are not able. 

The corollary holds as well.  When we withhold forgiveness, it’s a sign we have not received the forgiveness Jesus achieved on the cross and freely offers to all.  It’s there, but we can’t believe it or we are too locked in our shame.  For some reason, we cannot gain release from our own sins.  We can’t allow ourselves to receive the forgiveness God lovingly gives.  So, we can’t forgive others.  We are bound, chained, by our sin and the sins of others.

  Jesus is the truth that sets us free.  We share Him with the hurting world around us.  Why does polarization win?  Why let partisan division claim the day?  Why does animosity, revenge, and discord get the last word?  We tell of God’s forgiveness.  We model it, and in doing so, we step into freedom. 

Those who accept our invitation and turn to Jesus also take the first step to freedom.  Freedom spreads through the church, and out to the world.  It is not easy.

Immaculee Ilibagiza survived the Rwandan genocide of the 1990’s.[i]  She and several other Tutsi women crammed into the bathroom of a man who hid them from Hutu neighbors determined to wipe out all Tutsis.  The conditions were unimaginable, yet, she and the others survived many months in the impossibly cramped quarters.  Immaculees’ parents and most of her siblings were massacred. 

Survival was only part of the miracle.  The bigger part came in Immaculee’s determination to find it in herself to forgive the Hutus, including her family’s killers.  In order for her to reclaim her own humanity, she had to see the humanity in these who had performed such evil.  By God’s grace, she claimed freedom by forgiving those who took everything from her. 

Bishop Desmond Tutu of South Africa touches on this in his work The Book of Forgiving, written with his daughter Mpho.  South Africa, for over a century, existed in a system of Apartheid as evil as slavery, Jim Crow, and mass incarceration here in the United States.  Blacks in South Africa, the majority, had no rights, and lived in extreme poverty, as servants to the whites who held the money, guns, and power.

When revolution came in the 1990’s, it could have been deadly for the white minority.  But the black citizenry, following the example and lead of people like Bishop Tutu and Nelson Mandela, committed to forgiving and moving forward together.

Tutu proposed an exercise for the reader of his book.  First, select a stone and remember where you found it.  Then, one morning, carry it, the entire morning, never setting it down for any reason.  Do this for six hours.  That stone is the pain you are holding, the wrongs done to you that still have you in their insidious grip.  Oh, to put that stone down.  Oh, to be free from that pain, the loss, and injustice. 

Let it go.  Forgive.  There will be time for justice if that’s called for.  An abused wife should not just forgive the abuser, stay with him to endure more beatings.  The robbery victim should hope to get back what was taken.  The criminal must be prosecuted.  That’s all another conversation; an important one, but another one.

In terms of forgiveness, release the offender as Jesus releases you.  Set the rock down.  Open your arms in embrace.  This is emotional work, psychological work, and soul work.  But, think of that rock – the way it weighs you down and impedes your progress in life.  Look to the cross where Jesus bleeds out the death brought about by your sins.  Receive his forgiveness and extend it to someone.

Think of someone who’s deeply hurt and angered you through this election season.  You think you’re taking the Christian position.  He thinks the same thing.  You’re frustrated by his politics and he by yours.  Set that rock down. 

This is one of our offerings to the world, church.  It’s the way of grace and it’s sorely needed.   Let love win.  Walk in freedom.  Forgive and invite your neighbor to walk in freedom with you.

AMEN



[i] I. Iligabiza (2006), Left to Tell: Discovering God Amidst the Rwandan Holocaust.


Friday, July 15, 2016

Nelson Mandela and his Friend, the Prison Guard

Good Bfana by James Gregory is a book people in America sorely needs to read right now, the summer of 2016, as racial tension burns in our country.  I recently reviewed The Autobiography Malcolm X.  In the 1950’ and early to mid 60’s, Malcolm went on a miraculous journey from hatred of all white people to hatred of evil and a desire for brotherhood of all men, whites included.  Something similar happens to James Gregory and Nelson Mandela as they spend the decades of the 70’s and 80’s together.

Gregory is the jailor.  Of course at the beginning of their time together, he is not Mandela’s personal warden and they certainly are not friends.  But things change.  The seeds were planted early in Gregory’s life.  They weren’t the only seeds planted.  In soil of his soul, Gregory had a love for people that disregarded color.  This goes back to his earliest childhood.  Also from his childhood and from his formal education apartheid and hatred was planted in him.  In fact, by the time he became a guard in the prison system, he hated most people.  Relationships, real, deep relationships, seemed to be missing in his life.

As a cold, hardened, relationship averse man, prison guard seemed to be in the perfect job for him.  He was the kind of tough guy that could keep rowdy prisoners in line.  What changed?  This tough cuss was faired minded, and when he discovered his famous prisoner, Nelson Mandela, was a good man, a fair man, and not a terrorist, his perspective changed.  The two formed, unintentionally at first, a trust that evolved into a friendship. 

I am not spoiling anything here.  The subtitle is ‘Nelson Mandela – My Prisoner, My Friend.’  Knowing the ending doesn’t spoil the story.  In fact, what’s so amazing for me is that I was amazed even though I knew the ending.  I was in tears because I saw that even in Apartheid South Africa, love is more powerful than hate.  I believe God was in the friendship of the guard and the political prisoner.

And I believe God can bring people together in America today.  Some black people, with reason, totally fear the police and by extension ‘the system.’  Some white people, not wanting to face their own prejudice, reject the notion that they benefit from the system.  They – we (I am as white as they come) – do.  In 2016 America, white people, educated people, and wealthy (read middle class) people benefit from privileges others lack.  But, I think God can bring us together in love.


God will work through programs and protests and government legislation.  God will work through movements and interfaith worship services and black-white gatherings.  But more than any of these macro-level efforts, God will work through relationships.  When individuals step beyond themselves and befriend individuals totally different than themselves, totally ‘other,’ God will reform the hearts of those individuals.  And that’s where a change in society will rise up, in individual hearts.

Friday, April 18, 2014

Maundy Thursday Message - 2014

Jesus the Giver (John 6:35-51; 13:1-11)
Thursday, April 17, 2014 – Maundy Thursday

            Nelson Mandela spent years and years in prison in South Africa, yet he survived that ordeal, made it out, became president, and forgave those who unjustly imprisoned him.  He gained a reputation for courage, grace, focus, and great inner strength.  Martin Luther King Jr. is known for non-violence.  He dreamed of an integrated America before it happened.  He spoke with charisma and people wanted to follow him; or kill him.  They did both.
            Here in our own town, there are stories of men and women of great character and integrity.  One example of many is former basketball coach Dean Smith.  He is known as much for his faith and social conscience as his brilliance as a coach.  He is respected for his character.
            I could go on with examples.  The one thing others cannot take away is integrity, yet people compromise their own values far too often.  Though it cannot be taken, we give our integrity, we forfeit our reputation, and as a result we struggle to trust one another.  Jesus’ character was never in question.
            This may sound like an example of stating what is ridiculously obvious – Jesus was a good man.  Well, no kidding!  Was that even in question?  And yet, to look closely at why we accept this without question helps us know how to stand before Jesus.  We take up a vulnerable posture in which all we can do is present ourselves fully exposed, our souls completely bare, and then receive whatever he dishes out.
            Why?  It begins with what Jesus did in gathering his disciples for a meal the night he would be arrested.  The gospels indicate strongly he knew what was coming.  Whether he knew it would be that evening or sometime very soon, he knew.  His actions were intentional, done so that after the crucifixion/resurrection dust had settled; his disciples could look back, remember, and learn from what he did.  
            They would have reclined around a table kind of at the height of a coffee table.  And Jesus washed their feet.  I thought why is it such a big deal that he washed their feet?  Along with that question, I wonder, why do I feel compelled to wash feet just because Jesus did it?
            In his culture it was an act of service done by a servant or in many cases by a slave.  It was a lowly chore.  That was a world where people traveled by foot; they walked dirt roads; and they wore sandals.  I would guess those feet were a kind of dirty we rarely see, we of shoes, sock, carpets, pavement, and bathtubs.  It was lowly and here the master lowered himself in a shocking way.
            In our culture the issue is intimacy and self-reliance.  I’ll wash my own feet, thank you.  I’ll do it at my house and then I’ll hide them.  If you must look down there, notice my shoes.  I love you, but I don’t know if I want us to move to that level of intimacy in our friendship.  I’m not sure I want my foot in your hands.
            In Jesus’ day, they did not want to wash the feet of others.  In our day, we don’t want others to wash our feet.  In both cases, the act is a significant step out of normal.  And there’s the genius of it.  Jesus said to his contemporaries in this act, you are no better than the servant who washed feet.  In our day he says to us, you need to open your hearts and let me in and let your brothers and sisters in Christ in. 
            Sure, we are capable of washing our own feet.  But are we vulnerable enough to let people into our hearts to the point that we truly are a family in Christ.  Will we allow him to smash down the barriers we erect to keep everyone, sometimes even our spouses, at a safe distance?  Can we invite Jesus so deeply that we have the intimate love here in our family of believers that Jesus insisted be what defines us?
            In the account of the foot washing in John 13 and in our acting it out, we see Jesus character.  He, the Lord, is a servant.  He models servant-love and demands that we give servant love to one another, to those society would call the ‘least of these,’ and to our enemies.  The foot washing is one way Jesus breaks us down so he break into our lives, our hearts.
            Because of his willingness to show servant-love as he calls us to servant love is one reason we admire Jesus’ character.  Another is his sacrifice.  When we gather around the communion table, we take the bread.  We hold it up and say, ‘this represents the body of Christ.’  We eat it because he said, ‘do this in remembrance of me.’  The broken bread is his body, broken by our sins.  The wine or grape juice represents his blood – the blood of the New Covenant.  Because he died for us and because we confess our sins and receive forgiveness, we have life in the New Covenant. 
            The Gospel of John is abundantly clear that Jesus the man knew exactly what he was doing.  Yes, he was fully God.  At the same time, he was fully human.  When nails drove through his hands, it hurt as much as it would hurt you or me.  Yet, he knew it was coming and went to it for the world, for you and me.  In chapter 10, he says, “I lay down my life.  … No one takes it from me but I lay it down of my own accord” (10:18). 
            In John 19, having been arrested, the beaten, poor Galilean rabbi stands before the splendor and might of Rome, an inquiry from Governor Pontius Pilate.  Yet, Jesus seems to control the entire dialogue.  Frustrated, Pilate asks, “Do you refuse to speak to me?  Do you not know that I have the power to release you and the power to crucify you?”  Already bloodied from the thorns and the whip, Jesus says back, “You would have no power over me unless it had been given you from above” (19:10-11). 
            Jesus chose the cross.  It was God’s plan from the start.  I don’t think God forced Judas to betray him or forced the chief priests to hand him over to Pilate.  I think each player in the drama made his own choices.  But God knows the human heart and the human weakness when it comes to sin and temptation.  Jesus took the sin on himself. 
            When we talk about his great character, we can say many things.  I have chosen to focus on how he expressed servant love, and how Jesus gave of himself as an act of sacrificial love.  Service and sacrifice:  these attributes are what Jesus is all about and they indicate how we are to stand before him. 
            When Jesus knelt, Peter protested.  “You will never wash my feet,” he told his master (13:8).  “Unless I wash you,” Jesus responded, “you have no share with me.”  There is nothing we do.  We present ourselves as we are in all our dirtiness, shame, and failure before God.  There’s no initiative from us; no skill or exceptional achievement.  There is no gain or hard work that gets us there.  Broken, we come and Jesus is the actor, the doer.  He washes.  If we do not come in this way, receiving what the giver gives, we never can be one with him.
            Similarly he says, “Unless you eat the flesh of the son of man and drink his blood, you have no life in you.”  Nothing in any of the four gospels means literal cannibalism.  Joined with the bread and cup accounts in Matthew, Mark, and Luke, we know that here in John 6, Jesus meant we eat the bread and cup as a symbol of us taking him into ourselves.  But when I say, “taking in,” I mean receive.  We accept that we are sinners, but that his body scarred and blood spilled make a way for us.  If we do not, then we do have the eternal Jesus gives. 
            At the foot washers’ basin and at the communion table, we are receivers and Jesus the giver.  Our hands are open as are our hearts.  Nothing is held back or hidden.  We come acknowledging that we belong to him.  We are his and the best that is in us is what he gives. 
            This is not necessarily easy.  People who work hard and achieve a lot want take pride in standing on their own accomplishments.  Taking on the posture of receiving may be one of the biggest obstacles blocking the path to life-changing faith.  We are forced to trust.  Many will not.  Pride is a root cause of sin, yet many of the proudest people in the country sit in churches every week.  We are proud of our children, proud of our families, proud of churches, and proud of ourselves.  Nothing any pastor says will dent that pride in the least.  That entrenched pride produces unmovable wills which is sad because it means people bearing the identity of a Christian are in fact keeping themselves from God.
            I pray tonight, Maundy Thursday, you and I would not be among the proud.  I know we have been.  I wrestle with pride and tonight, I am asking God to help me let it go.  Would you do that?  Would you ask God to free you from having to stand on your own?  Would you look to Heaven and in your spirit confess your sins and your helplessness?  Having confessed would you then open yourself to Jesus and receive what he gives?  In washing feet and being washed, we honor our servant God and we are cleansed by him.  In eating bread and drinking juice, we take him into us as we admit that we are nothing without him.
            He is the great giver, giving life to all who will die to self and receive from him.  Can we do that tonight?

            We will have silent prayer and then be invited forward for the Lord’s Supper.