Rebuilding Neighbors

Ordinary 15

July 10, 2016

Ancho + Corona

Isaiah 58 (selected) (NLT)

What good is fasting when you keep on fighting and quarreling? This kind of fasting will never get you anywhere with me…. No, this is the kind of fasting I want: free those who are wrongly imprisoned; lighten the burden of those who work for you. Let the oppressed go free, and remove the chains that bind people. Share your food with the hungry, and give shelter to the homeless. Give clothes to those who need them, and do not hide from relatives who need your help….

Then your light will shine out from the darkness, and the darkness around you will be as bright as noon. [Adonai] will guide you continually, giving you water when you are dry and restoring your strength. You will be like a well-watered garden, like an ever-flowing spring. Some of you will rebuild the deserted ruins of your cities. Then you will be known as a re-builder of walls and a restorer of homes.

Luke 10: 25-37 (CEB)

It has been a tough week to handle. Each day, the news of justice gone awry hit me like a blow – first in Baton Rouge, with the killing of Alton Sterling after he had been tackled to the ground. Then, in St. Paul, as Philandro Castile was shot in his car in front of his wife and child. In Dallas, a peaceful protest that was being protected by police ended with the lives of five officers taken by a sniper. Brent Thompson, Michael Krol, Patrick Zamarripa, Michael Smith, and Lorne Ahrens. Then, the life of the sniper suspect, Micah Johnson, was taken by rigging a bomb-disposal robot to explode. As this was going on, there were other incidents that didn’t make the news – a black man hung from a tree in Georgia, a child who shot his step-father in Michigan, and others scattered through the country. Yet, here we are, tucked into reasonably safe central New Mexico, where we have to go out of our way – drive at least 50 miles – to interact with someone of a race other than white or Hispanic. It would be so easy for us to bury our heads, let this whole “Black Lives Matter” thing roll over – to say, what does any of this have to do with me anyway? Or, simply to send our thoughts and prayers, and put the whole thing out of our heads after that.

But that’s not what we’re called to do. The Prophet Micah, for instance, asks, “What does the Lord require of you? To do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with God.” God requires justice from us, and it is clear that the system we are a part of – that we have agency to change – is not just for all people. This isn’t new information, either – even in 1968, the Kerner report showed how racial inequality was part of the fabric of our society. Yes, we’ve made strides since then – but we are not perfect, not by a long shot.

As part of the Reformed church, we talk about being in a state of total depravity – meaning not that everyone is thoroughly, completely evil, but that, as Paul says in his letter to the Romans, “All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” We all have made mistakes, have hurt others in one way or another. Yet, our society punishes some groups for the same crimes way more harshly or regularly than others. Just last week in Raleigh, a white man carrying a shotgun and a pistol threatened drivers on the road by pointing the shotgun at them, and then when a police officer approached him, said, “I’ve got something for you,” reached into his pocket, and pulled out his pistol. In both cases, the officer pushed the barrel of the weapon away, and even after the pistol went off, was able to remove the weapons and take the man into custody. That’s how policing is supposed to work – and yet, it doesn’t. African Americans are six times more likely to be arrested in our country for the same crimes, and although making up only 13% of the total population, make up a QUARTER of the 512 people killed by police officers this year alone.

Yes, my friends, we have all sinned and fallen short of the glory of God. But we can offer grace, offer mercy, and offer justice in better fashion than we have.

What does this look like? The Prophet Isaiah gives us a great idea – true worship of God looks like actions we take. Actions of freeing the oppressed, releasing the wrongly imprisoned, breaking the chains – both literal and figurative – that bind people. Clothe the naked. Feed the hungry. Shelter the homeless. We have it in our power – together – to change the system for the better. To demand true justice for our brothers and sisters, whatever their race, whatever their creed, whatever their social status. To love kindness, and offer mercy and forgiveness to those who have wronged us. To rebuild our home, until it is a light shining in the darkness, an ever-flowing spring of justice and love for our neighbors.

In the Gospel of Luke, a lawyer asks Jesus, “Can you tell me exactly who my neighbor is?” Jesus answers him with the story of the mugging victim and the passers by. Those that would be expected to help – the priest, the Levite – they keep walking. But the man’s rival – a man who would never be expected to help a Jewish man for any reason – he’s the one who stops. Who offers his own food and drink, his own clothing, to bind up the man’s wounds. Who carries him to shelter, who pays for his care. After all this, Jesus asks the lawyer, “Which of these is a neighbor to the man who was robbed?” “The man who showed compassion,” replied the lawyer. “Go and do likewise,” Jesus concludes.

Exactly who is my neighbor? You’ll never know for certain until you show compassion. Indeed, Amy-Jill Levine, a Jewish scholar who studies the New Testament, points out that in Hebrew, the word for neighbor – rea – and the word for evil – raa – share the same consonants. That is, they would be written the same, since Hebrew leaves out the vowels. So, when Jesus asks the lawyer, “How do you read the Law?” he may even be asking if the lawyer is reading it as “Love your neighbor as yourself” or “Love your enemy as yourself.” Or both.

And looking closer at the Greek word for compassion used in this passage – splagchnizomai – we see that Luke used it for Jesus himself on seeing the widow at her son’s funeral procession, and that the Prodigal Son story will use it as the way the father feels on seeing his son returned to him. This word means, literally, “to be moved in the inner parts” – or, we might say, we felt that in our guts. This isn’t a far-removed feeling, but a visceral, how-can-you-feel-anything-else feeling.

The despised one felt moved in his guts to help the man – his neighbor, his enemy - as best he could. To rebuild their home, the Jewish people needed to free the oppressed, and take care of the outsiders. We must do likewise – feel in our guts the injustice in our society, and work to create a better system, calling our leaders to act justly, to love kindness, and walk humbly. We can rebuild our neighbors – to see even our enemies as worthy of love. To recognize our shared heritage, as God’s children in the world.

May the Spirit help you see those in need, and move you to compassion. May Jesus lead you on the right road at the right time. May God’s justice eternally spring into a fountain that all may drink from, and cool in its refreshing waters. Amen.