“Awed & Odd:  Love in the Midst of Hate”

First Congregational United Church of Christ

December 5, 2010

The Rev. Sharyl B. Peterson

Scripture Readings:  Isaiah 11: 6-9; Luke 1: 46-50; Matt. 3: 1-3, 8

Some of you know that as part of my duties with our UCC National Office, I was invited to serve on the Search Committee for our new Executive Minister.  So, this past week I was reading resumes and CVs and letters of reference from and for the pool of candidates who have applied for the position.  And I was particularly struck by the statement made by one candidate, who said something like, “I guess we all know that ministers only preach one sermon, even if they change the details every week.”  And he went on to briefly describe what “his” sermon is, the one that he preaches over and over, the one that forms the core of his theology and of his ministry.

            I sat back and thought about that for a few minutes, wondering whether his statement was true, and wondering, if it was, what “my” one sermon probably is.  And I realized that it’s this:  God loves you.  Whether we believe it or not, whether we can feel it or not, God loves you and me.  Immensely.  Deeply.  Immeasurably.  No matter what.  And the way God calls us to love God back is this:  we are supposed to love each other.  Or at the very least, we are supposed to try to love each other.  And we’re supposed to do that not simply in a gushy, sentimental, emotional way, but utterly concretely – in the things we say to other people, and that we say about them, in Coffee Hour after church, and over lunch with a friend, and as we walk through the Mall finishing our shopping; and in the gifts we choose to give – or choose to not give – to other people (and if we’re honest, that’s true for friends and family,  as well as for strangers); in nearly every action we take from the time we get up in the morning until we go to bed at night. 

            God loves us.  We love God back by loving each other.  Pretty simple.

            I also believe that at its core, that is precisely “what the Bible says,” over and over.  In fact, I think that “what the Bible says” is not nearly as complicated as we make it sometimes, or as complicated as many people think it is. 

            And if someone says to you, “I really can’t understand the Bible at all, because of all those weird names in it, and all those confusing arguments,” you can kindly smile at them, and offer to sum it up for them.  Well, you might say, here’s what the Bible says.  And you can forget about all the weird and hard-to-pronounce names.  And you can forget about all the confusing, often contradictory theological arguments. 

            Because what the Bible says is:  God is love.  And the Bible says: God loves you.  Immensely.  Immeasurably.  No matter what.  And the Bible says, so love God back by loving other people.  (Preferably, no matter what.)

            Now the first of those three core statements – “God is love” – most people have little or no problem with.  Even if they are pretty sure there are stories in the Bible where God is described as “smiting” people, or as “striking them down,” that whole business of the Creation seems like a pretty loving thing to do – to say nothing of all the times and places that God saves people’s lives … or spirits … or souls – to say nothing of that whole “God send Jesus into the world” thing.  Yes, overall it seems like a pretty good idea that God might be seen as loving, at least most of the time.

            The second of those three core statements – “And God loves you” – is harder for a lot of folks.  After nearly 20 years in ministry, and another 20 years before that in education, I have learned that most people, regardless of their circumstances – their race, ethnicity, social class, education, upbringing, and more – really don’t like themselves very much, much less love themselves.  And that makes it very difficult for most people to imagine that God – even God – could really love them – could really love all of us – no matter what. 

            On the other hand, I have also learned that most people, even if they have a hard time believing that God loves them, are willing to believe that God loves everyone else, at least.  And that’s an important start, because it leads us to core statement three.  Which is the real sticking-point for most people when the rubber hits the road theologically:  that statement that says:  “So love God back by loving other people.  (Preferably, no matter what.)” 

            No matter how many times we read that in the Bible, or hear about it in church, or perhaps in other groups we hang out with, most of us are pretty good at coming up with “well, yes, but(s).”  Like, “yes, but what about those people with all the tattoos and piercings?  I find them personally repugnant.  I’m pretty sure I can’t love them.”  Or like, “yes, but what about those two women (or two men) who come to church as a couple?           Surely, I don’t have to love them.”  Or like, “yes, but what about those Republicans – or Democrats – they’re destroying this country with their crazy ideas!  I know I can’t love them!”  Or like, “yes, but what about … and many of us can come up with a nearly endless list of what we think should be exceptions to that whole:  “Love other people” rule.

            In fact, we may decide that loving other people (all other people; no matter what) is simply an impossible thing to do.  That it’s totally impractical.  And that it’s utterly unreasonable of God – or of Jesus – to ask us to do that. 

            And we live in a society that tells us, over and over, in a million different ways, that it is impossible, and impractical, and unreasonable, and that we’re right, and that it’s okay not to love others,      and that if we’re really smart, most of the time we’ll at least distrust – if not outright disapprove of – if not outright hate – an awful lot of other people.  Listen to some recent headlines from our local newspaper, as well as from other papers across the country this week: “Panic Over Cholera Sparks Witch Hunt in Haiti – 12 Murdered.”  “Bomb Plot Foiled at Holiday Event in City in Oregon.”  “Haters, Rejoice.”  “Poland, Lacking External Enemies, is Turning on Itself.”  “Police Building Hit by Bombers in Uniforms.” 

            Most “experts” and sources of information in our culture tell us, dozens of times a day, in dozens of ways, that any faith – any deity – any Savior – who would tell us we’re supposed to love others – all others – no matter what – is a very odd faith – a very odd God – a very odd way to salvation – indeed.  And they tell us that if we do take our faith – our God – our Christ seriously … and really try to do that, we are very odd indeed.  And honestly, isn’t it so easy to simply agree that they’re right, after all, and that it is impossible … or impractical … or unreasonable to try to do what we’re supposed to do as Christian people? 

            The Good News is, even if we think it’s impossible to love others that way, God doesn’t think it’s impossible.  In fact the Gospel-writers tell us that God so believed that it is possible – and that human beings just needed a little help seeing how to do it – that God sent God’s very Son into the world so we can see exactly what God’s love looks like.  And exactly what it looks like for us to love others.

            And it looks like this:  accepting others, even those we see as “very different.”  It looks like reserving judgment, keeping quiet, instead of making unkind of mean-spirit remarks about others.  It looks like acts of mercy … of comfort … of healing. 

            It looks like some of those very odd pairings that Isaiah describes in that Scripture passage we heard earlier:  “wolves and sheep living together in peace; leopards lying down with young goats (without eating them); calves and lion cubs, cows and bears eating together side by side, babies being safe even if they play near a poisonous snake.” 

            It looks like the kind of love Mary is talking about, when she says:  “My soul magnifies the Lord, ⁴⁷and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, ^48who has looked with favor on the lowliness of this servant.”   Mary, an ordinary, working-class teen-ager, called to become the mother of the child God is going to send, who understands all the odd ways that God works in the world.  Mary, who after proclaiming God’s goodness and love, goes on to talk about more odd things God has done and is going to do:  about how God “has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; (how God) has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty.”        

            And it looks like the stream of big, tough, Harley motorcycle bikers who rode past our house on Saturday morning, on their way to their 31^st Annual Toy Run here in Grand Junction – big, leather-jacketed, bandana-wearing, sometimes tattooed men and women, with piles of wrapped Christmas presents for children in this community strapped to the backs of their motorcycles.  And it looks like a group of ordinary, middle-class Christians living in a small town in Montana, who – when anti-Semitic threats were made in their community – each and every one put a menorah in the windows of their houses.  And it looks like a well-to-do businessman, who has a lovely home and family, and comes into the pastor’s office one morning trying to find a way to get in touch with a nearly homeless man who sometimes comes to church, and who clearly has no winter-coat to wear, and the business-man wants to get him a coat.  And it looks like a group of college students, clean, well-dressed, upper-middle-class, who every Saturday bunch into a rather tatty mini-van, and head down to one of the dirtiest, ugliest parts of their city to teach poor, ethnically-different, ragged children how to read, or to fix a lunch for those children’s parents.

            Really odd, that image of wolves and sheep living together in peace, isn’t it?  Really odd, isn’t it, all those Harley bikes loaded with beautifully-wrapped toys?  Really odd, isn’t it, those ordinary people just like us, most of whom didn’t even know their Jewish neighbors, nonetheless standing up in solidarity with them against hate?  Really odd, isn’t it, that that business-man, who normally has little to do with the homeless people who live in his community, taking time to make sure someone else will be warm?  Really odd isn’t it, all those college students who have lots of more fun things they could do with their Saturdays off, nonetheless offering their knowledge and their care to those kids whose futures are so bleak, isn’t it?

            Pretty odd, indeed.  It kind of makes you wonder.  It certainly fills me with wonder.

            I think one of the great gifts of this season is that this is the one time of year when – even if it is right alongside all the news items about hate – our culture is also willing to claim and to proclaim that there is some good news of love available to be found.  For us, as Christians, that good news is that indeed, in fact, no matter how impossible or impractical or unreasonable it seems, God is love.  And that God loves us – each and every one of us – no matter what.  And God calls us to love each other – no matter what. 

            Jesus, our Christ, the One whose coming into the world we await again this Advent season, calls us and shows us how to love each other – no matter what.  No matter how odd it may make us look.  No matter how odd it may make us feel.  And if it does make us look or feel or seem “odd,” well, we must be doing things right, because that’s the way our Christ calls us to do them.

            As His followers and disciples, may we heed that call of His cousin, John the Baptist, the One sent before Jesus to tell the world about Him.  That call we heard from Matthew’s Gospel this morning:   “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.” Live your lives in new ways.  “‘Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.’” … Replace the hatred you see around you with the loving that God calls you to do.   (And) Bear fruit worthy of repentance.”

            So I invite you once again this week, if you can do so with integrity, to repeat after me:  “Yes, we’re Christians.”  “Yes, we love God.”  “Yes, we love other people – or at least we try.” 

            “And yes, we’re odd.”  Amen.