Representation Matters: A Sermon for 5B Pentecost

 

On Wednesday...Juneteenth...I was remembering the day that would have been my mom's 97th birthday. As a way of marking the date, I posted a video I had made for her memorial service in Tallahassee of her "reporter on the scene" account she did for the international LGBTQ+ program "This Way Out" of Bishop Gene Robinson's consecration in November, 2003. It was delightful, if bittersweet, to listen to my mom's voice and in her very "Anonymous Peggins" way describe the event that rocked The Episcopal Church 20+ years ago.

I also heard some interesting interviews as I drove to a clericus meeting with a variety of black artists, part of the Juneteenth programming happening on NPR that day. More about that in a moment.

As I left clericus and started on my way to Valdosta, I was shocked and hurt by a meme posted by one of the St. Barnabas faithful. It was one of those designed to denigrate queer people while extolling the mighty and proud U.S. Army. (For the record, the church member apologized.)

And then...as I started researching the First Reading assigned for this Sunday (1 Sam. 17:57-18:5, 10-16), I was again hit with more homophobia as biblical commentators attempted to distance this reading from any suggestion that King David and Prince Jonathan might have had some feelings for one another that went beyond handshakes. 

All of these thoughts...experiences...and the wounds ripped open in me...led to this sermon.

And, dear reader, please understand that I did A LOT of research for this one.

Texts: the 1 Samuel mentioned above and Mark 4:35-41.

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I will never forget the first time I saw a woman standing at the altar.

I was about ten years old and our Episcopal Church had called a deacon.

I didn’t know what that was…but I knew it was someone ordained…and I knew her name was Fran Potter.

What I didn’t know was what an impression it was going to make on me to see her…the Reverend Fran Potter…standing up front…wearing a white alb and stole…climbing into the pulpit at Christ Episcopal Church…and being at the table.

There was this bubble of excitement…of joy…and of glee…to see a woman…someone who looked about my mom’s age…standing in the same space as all the male priests and curates I’d seen up to that point.

Even as a little kid…I was amazed at what a difference that made in my perception of who could be a minister in the church.

Representation matters.

This week…as many of us were marking and remembering Juneteenth…I was struck again by what it means to see someone occupying space that was normally held by the cultural majority.

I was listening to an interview with George Shirley…the first African-American tenor at the New York Metropolitan Opera.  

Mixed in between snippets of his singing…which was full and round and gorgeous to listen to…Shirley talked about his faith in God…and how that helped sustain him in a world where he was very much a minority.

He mentioned that…as a tenor in opera…those parts are the male romantic leads…and so he would often have to stand beside a white…often European…soprano on the Met stage.

He shared one story from a time in 1963.

 A music critic for the Saturday Evening Post wrote a harsh critique of his portrayal of a French nobleman in the opera “Manon.”

This critic had said something about Shirley not “looking like a French noble man.”

Shirley said he could not let this particular comment go without a challenge.

He wrote a letter to this critic.

After asking questions about some of his other comments…he put to him a pointed question:

what does a French noble man look like?

And he went on to name one of the major sopranos of the Met who had sung the role of Aida.

That character is supposed to be an Ethiopian princess.

So…she’s supposed to be black.

But the sopranos singing that role at the Met in those days were not black women.

He never received a response to his letter.

Instead…that critic refused to look George Shirley in the eye for the rest of his career.

As Shirley noted…”Critics don’t like to be criticized.”

And it no doubt gave that critic something to consider when evaluating the performance of a singer who didn’t “look like” what they believed a character should be.

George Shirley loves singing…and has enjoyed playing various characters of Italian operas in his career.

One of the things he loves about music in general is its universality.

Music…from his perspective…is for everyone and doesn’t belong to any one group of people.

For him…there’s no reason why black people shouldn’t sing Verdi and white people shouldn’t sing the art songs of the late African-American composer Harry Burleigh.

As long as everyone is singing and honoring the texts…it’s all good.

And I can imagine for a young black boy to see a black man cast as a duke or prince in an opera…it sends a message of “I can be that, too.”

Again: representation matters.

The same can be said for the stories in the Bible.

And this morning…we heard the start of the relationship between the brave David…the Goliath-slayer…and King Saul’s oldest son Jonathan.

In our English translation of the Hebrew…we hear about the love Jonathan had for David.

That Jonathan gave him his cloak and his tunic… and the two men made a covenant with one another.

For anyone who is a member of the LGBTQ+ community…these words will prick up our ears.

After years and years of being told we don’t belong in the church… to have two men professing such deep affection for one another is a welcome sign.

Representation matters, right?

But after looking at the Hebrew…and checking sources…and doing the type of research you’re supposed to do when writing a sermon…the truth is…it’s not clear that this is a gay male relationship in the way that we here in the 21^st century might think of it.

Do gay people exist in the Bible?

Yes, of course.

Gay people have been in the world…long before the scientists of the 19^th century invented the term, “homosexual.”

And there are characters in the Bible who defy traditional gender stereotypes.

That beautiful coat given to Joseph.

As the biblical scholar Peter Toscano points out—this long-sleeve coat of many colors—uses the same Hebrew word—for the long robe worn by virgin daughters of kings (2 Samuel 13:18).

So the Bible contains the full scope of God’s created humanity…without zeroing in on Jonathan and David.

However…there’s no denying that this is a same-gender…same-sex relationship…something that we would call a “Bromance.”

These two men share a close bond… even a tenderness between them.

That type of representation matters.

It was distressing to me…as I was looking into the meaning of this moment…that there were male commentators who responded with vitriol and anger at the suggestion that this could be seen as a gay relationship.

Some of them suggested that commentators who see queerness in this story were like the dreaded enemy…the Philistines…the ones that David destroyed and killed their giant leader Goliath.*

Such criticisms…to me…went beyond your normal disagreement between theologians and scholars.

That’s when I looked at our Gospel lesson from Mark…and this scene out on the water.

Water carries lots of representations…one of them being emotion.

And in this scene…the waters are turbulent and violent.

The disciples are frantic.

They’re caught in a tempest on their boat.

And where’s Jesus?

Sleeping.

They’re terrified and screaming at him to save them…which…of course… he did.

And then Jesus asks an important question:

“Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?”

Yes…things were scary.

Storms will do that…because they’re unpredictable.

But Jesus was still in the boat…still with them.

“Why are you afraid?” he asks.

Why are some of these biblical commentators afraid?

As a culture and as a society…I think we are unkind to boys and men.

Somewhere along the way…boys are taught or conditioned that to be men…they can’t show feelings.

They are not allowed to be vulnerable.

They must be strong…choke back their tears.

That whole “frogs and snails and puppy dog tails” rhyme comes to mind.

God forbid any boy have a touch of sugar and spice and everything nice.

I did a training some years back at my massage school.

We met one weekend a month over six months to learn techniques for helping clients release trauma through their bodies.

The majority of the class were women but there were four men, and the instructor was a man, a former Vietnam Veteran.

On the last day of this intensive time together…we did the usual sharing as we were about to part ways.

And what I remember was that the women in this class expressed how much they had enjoyed working with the men.

These guys were stunned.

The women were so grateful to have been with men…most of whom were straight men by the way…who were confident enough in themselves and who they were…that they could let down their guards…and share their feelings with women…and with each other.

And in this world…allowing oneself to show any kind of weakness…is a true sign of strength.

I think the idea of men having the kind of deep affection for another man that we see happening between David and Jonathan scares people…or certainly some male theologians.

And out fear…they become attackers.

In that way…they become like King Saul.

Look at what happened to him.

Saul…who at first seems impressed with David…sees him as a threat.

He is jealous of his success as a soldier…his skill as a musician…

When he sees the love that his son Jonathan and…for that matter… all of Israel… is showing to his rival…“evil enters him” and he attacks.

He wants to kill David.

Destroy this one who can be both a great warrior AND a lover of men.

Saul fears David.

Fears make us do terrible things.  

Jealousy will make us do terrible things.

Losing control or power can make us go wild.

When we let those things…those emotions…take over our hearts…we strike out and attack each other.

And nothing moves us further away from God.

It’s this same fear that I read in all of those commentators who express such disgust about the possible gay reading of Jonathan and David’s relationship.

We may not be able to say beyond a shadow of doubt that Jonathan and David were gay.

But what we can say is that Jonathan did love David and could see in him the kind of man he wanted to be with.

And their kinship is a representation of male bonding.

Their caring for each other is proof that men can and should allow themselves to have feelings and be vulnerable with each other.

Boys and men should have the confidence that it is OK to be both a warrior and person who cries when they’re hurt.

Remember: Jesus wept at the grave of his friend, Lazarus.

We don’t need to be afraid of these feelings and relationships…whether they’re gay or straight.

That representation matters. 

In the name of God…F/S/HS

 

Don't Lose Heart: A Sermon for 4B Pentecost

 

 

After last Sunday...and the week I have had in ministry...you could say that this Sunday's lectionary readings were programmed for me. I have been struggling and at times have wondered if I should just throw in the towel. Even getting myself to sit down and look at the assigned lessons for the Fourth Sunday After Pentecost was hard. 

I started out being really taken in by the Epistle lesson, which is Paul's lamenting letter to the church in Corinth. But the more time I spent looking at the line about how "the love of Christ urges us on," I kept getting drawn over to the parable about the mustard seed. 

I felt the amulet of faith that I wear around my neck every day...which includes the verse as it's quoted in Matthew 7. My mother gave me that pendant on my 16th birthday, one of the critical years in my journey through life. Interesting that this parable...captured on the back of mustard seed sealed in lucite given to me 40 years ago...became the link between the world as I'm seeing...the world as Paul was experiencing it...and the message that Mark's Jesus wanted us both to hold onto as we faced the challenges of ministry.

Texts: 1 Sam. 15:34-16:13; 2 Cor. 5: 6-17; Mark 4: 26-34 

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“My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going.

I do not see the road ahead of me.

I cannot know for certain where it will end.

Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so.

But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you.

And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire.

And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road, though I may know nothing about it.

Therefore will I trust you always, though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.”

 

That prayer is by the Trappist monk and mystic Thomas Merton. A friend of mine shared it with me during my many years-long fight with God as I wrestled with understanding my call to ordained ministry.

It’s a perfect prayer for anyone trying to work through the maze of life choices.

And for me…making a commitment to trust God and follow a path toward ordination was huge.

I kept asking myself…and by extension…asking God,

“Are you sure?”

“And if you’re so sure…how am I supposed to do this thing that you want?

How do I follow this call?”

In our readings these past few weeks…we’ve been hearing the “call” stories of so many of our biblical ancestors.

We’ve witnessed they’re attempts to listen and then follow where God seemed to be leading them.

From our First Reading…we can tell that Samuel was struggling to tune into what God wanted.

He kept looking on the outward appearances of Jesse’s sons…and letting looks deceive him.

But God’s desire was to lift up the young David…out in the field…minding his father’s sheep.

He certainly wasn’t looking to become the heralded king of Israel.

But when God told Samuel…”This is the one!”  David said, “Yes.”

And his “Yes” was the path that established a lineage for Jesus.

We also heard Paul writing to that irascible church in Corinth.

In the chapters before our reading today…Paul talks of the pain and hurt he has endured from this church.

A person in their midst had been maligning him…so much so that he had to retreat from there and write them this letter.

See: even Paul knows that special pain of “church hurt.”

An ache that cuts deep…especially when one can’t escape that stirring of the Holy Spirit within that will not let you simply walk away.

No matter how frustrating and how daunting the task…that “love of Christ” urges Paul on.

And then we have Jesus telling this parable about the mustard seed.

Anyone who has ever dabbled in cooking Indian food…particularly curries…will be familiar with the ways of a mustard seed.

They’re often dropped into hot oil to pop and add a nutty flavor to a dish.

They add just the right taste to bring out the complexities of the other seasonings that dance on the tongue.

In our Gospel…Jesus uses this image of a mustard seed to his audience of peasant farmers as a way of preaching to them about the kingdom of God.

We hear this parable and I imagine it might recall for some of us pendants on necklaces.

There was a time when it was popular to have one of these amulates of faith…with the mustard seed encased in Lucite.

I actually wear one around my neck.

But while we might have sentimental attachments to mustard seeds…or delight in what they can do to make our meals more delicious…. those farmers listening to Jesus in the First Century would have been shocked to hear him say, “Guess what, y’all: the kingdom is like a mustard seed.”

Mustard seeds….and the great big bushy shrubs they grew into…were an annoyance.

These were invasives….they were the most unwanted weeds.

And yet here’s Jesus saying that this is what the kingdom of God is like?

Answer: Yup!

As much as we might not want to think of God’s kingdom as invasive or annoying…when God injects God’s self into our everyday…things get disrupted.

The Way of Love…the Way of God…does that.

It’s unpredictable.

It’s messy.

And it’s also liberating and live-affirming.

It disrupts the Way of the Every Day…and counters the societal expectations that tend to limit our ideas and our dreams and rob us of joy.

The audience who heard this Gospel way back when were a people who were definitely in a struggle with their society.

Jesus is talking to a minority group…a people living under the rule of the Roman Empire.

Ched Myers is a biblical scholar whose written a lot about the Gospel of Mark.

He notes that this parable about the mustard seed was also a message to the Markan community who were feeling small and inadequate to the task of discipleship.

By using this example of a mustard seed…it gave them something they could visualize…and relate to. Because in their cultural experience…they felt a little bit like a bunch of mustard seeds.

A tiny minority…looked upon as a nuisance.

For the people of Mark’s community…this parable served as a reminder that while they might be small…and while they might not know where things were headed… if they kept their faith… the Jesus movement…the faith that they had been grounded in… would grow.

The Jesus movement would disrupt the order of Empire.

The Jesus movement…a movement of reinvigorating the people of God…would grow up and be seen and draw others to rest on its branches…like the birds in the parable.

This parable was the ultimate pep talk for them.

And it’s a great one for us as well.

By comparison to other churches… we are a small community of Episcopal believers….which is already a minority among the Christian churches in Valdosta.

We live in a part of the country where just identifying as an Episcopalian may get you looked at funny and questioned about whether we read the Bible.

(For the record, I hope you not only say "Yes" to that question, but I hope you let them know that it’s amazing how well the Bible quotes our Book of Common Prayer!)

Our sanctuary isn’t built to be a corporate, program-sized church…holding four to five hundred people on a Sunday.

We may not be big in numbers…but we can still make a profound difference in people’s lives.

Not by ourselves alone. But by leaning into our faith…and our trust in God.

Allowing ourselves…like St. Paul…to let the faith and belief that Christ lived…died…and rose again…for the benefit of all people be that spark…that tiny seed that urges us on.

We may trip and fall.

The path may not always be clean and clear cut.

But with discernment…with listening…and with trust…we can and will do great things for the good of all people.

I began this sermon with a prayer…and I want to end with this one…it’s my favorite concluding prayer from the Daily Morning Office.

I think it’s a good one as we think about where God is wanting us to grow in our lives:

Glory to God whose power working in us can do infinitely more than we can ask or imagine.

Glory to God from generation to generation in the church and in Christ Jesus forever and ever. Amen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



 



 

 

"The Hospitality of Barnabas" A Sermon for St. Barnabas Day (transferred)

 We changed the altar hangings. We switched the lectionary readings. We planned a party with hamburgers and hot dogs afterwards. 

We had just over a dozen people come to church.

These are the days when I feel that sense of loneliness that I preached about.

Texts: Is. 42:5-12, Acts 11:19-30; 13:1-3; Matthew 10:7-16

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Within the first couple of weeks of arriving here at St. Barnabas…I must have had at least three people come to me and share the story of how our church got its name.

Back in the early 1980s…there was a dream of starting a second Episcopal Church…on the northside of Valdosta…close to Moody Air Force Base.

There was this land…ten acres on Bemiss Road…that was the perfect location.

Bishop Phil Reeves and Dr. Buddy Pitts were walking the property. Bishop Reeves spotted the old barn that was still standing in the field.

And Bishop Reeves said to Dr. Pitts, “Why don’t we call this church Saint BARNabas?”

Get it: Barn. Barnabas.

I can imagine that these two men took great delight at this clever idea.

Certainly, everyone who has shared this story with me thought it was super funny.

And…as it often happens in this life…God is the one who gets the last laugh.

Because in picking what might have been seen as a clever…cute…and humorous name for our church put us on a path of living into the life and legend of the real Saint Barnabas.

A path which fits in with our stated vision of a world that is full of “health, healing, and hope with unconditional love.”

That’s the life that Barnabas is said to have lived.

Born in Cyprus in the First Century to a wealthy family…Joseph the Levite…who the apostles would later rename Barnabas…was a Hellenistic Jew…. meaning he spoke and prayed in Greek, but not Hebrew or Aramaic.

Some scholars believe Barnabas was born not long after Jesus’ birth.

While he was not part of the original twelve disciples…it’s possible that Barnabas may have encountered Jesus while studying under Gamaliel…a Jewish teacher and member of the Sanhedrin who had also mentored Paul.

Jesus’ teachings about the care for the poor…and oppressed…made such an impression on Barnabas that he sold a field that belonged to him and gave all the money to the apostles. This is when they gave him his name…. which means Son of Encouragement.

And he was an encourager.

When Paul had his major conversion moment on the road to Damascus…it was Barnabas who encouraged the apostles to accept Paul into the community despite his prior reputation as a persecutor of the Jesus movement.

When a dispute arose in Jerusalem over whether Gentiles needed to be circumcised in the same that the Jewish followers of Jesus had been…it was Barnabas and Paul who successfully argued to let all these new pagan converts be themselves and not try to become Jewish.

And as we heard in our reading from the Acts of the Apostles… it was thanks to the work of Barnabas and Paul in Antioch…which was one of the most populous cities on the border of Turkey and Syria at the time… that the term “Christian” came into use to describe this emerging movement of Jews and Gentiles who were followers of Jesus’ teachings.

Barnabas and Paul would later have a falling out…with each going their separate ways and continuing to do the work of the Gospel among the Gentile populations. Barnabas went back to Cyprus with his cousin…John Mark…believed to be the author of the Gospel of Mark.

It was there…some time about the year 62 C-E that a mob of Greco-Roman pagans stoned Barnabas to death.

John Mark buried him…and would later also bury Paul after his martyrdom in Rome.

Which gets us to this last line of our Gospel from Matthew: “See, I am sending you out like sheep into the midst of wolves, so be wise as serpents and innocent as doves” (Matt 9:16).

Barnabas and the other followers of Jesus were living and ministering in a time when they were not part of the in-crowd, or the popular ones.

They were a minority group.

And like anyone who doesn’t enjoy the perks and privileges of being in the majority…they had to be wary…know how to speak their truth in the face of a sometimes hostile audience…expect nothing in return and be ready to move on if necessary.

Minorities in a majority culture can never fully rest unless the majority consents to grant them peace.

The apostles already knew there would be those who didn’t welcome them.

That’s why Jesus uses that line about Sodom and Gomorrah…to remind them that they will encounter people who oppose them…even some who say they are following God.

Despite what some in the Christian church have tried to say about the story of Sodom and Gomorrah…the moral take away from that story out of Genesis Chapter 19 has nothing to do with sex…or sexual orientation.

It was about those two cities…places of means and abundance…who refused to welcome a stranger. Indeed were violent toward those they saw as “outsiders.”

Lack of hospitality…and the failure to show compassion and kindness… were deadly faux pas in the ancient world.

We don’t face quite the same threat of dire destruction in our culture.

But…those places… and particularly…those houses of worship and people of faith who don’t offer respite and the equivalent of a cold cup of water to someone suffering from the heat and exhaustion of the world…are doomed to fail.

That brings us back to our patron saint and namesake…Barnabas.

Because we are the community of Saint Barnabas….we have a special role to play in our larger area of Lowndes County to be a place known for hospitality.

One that all of us can and should put our minds to thinking about.

At our recent vestry retreat…we were looking at trends across the various generations…as well as those things that we see as pressing needs around us.

The vestry members named climate change and affordable housing…especially for seniors…as important issues facing all of us.

And they also identified “Loneliness” as an issue.

In a Harvard Graduate School study shared with the group…in a survey of 950 people…researchers found “serious loneliness” was a big concern.

More than 40-percent of adults over age 55 said they were lonely.

More than 60-percent of the adults ages 18-25 said they had an acute sense of loneliness.

Where does a place such as St. Barnabas fit into the mix to meet people in their loneliness?

How do we make our vision of health…healing…and hope with unconditional love…translate into the type of hospitality that welcomes and helps to connect people?

The young with the old…people of different backgrounds…orientations…races…and abilities…creating a space where they feel included?

How do we build a community that makes even more connections beyond our congregation…so that we continue in that tradition of seeking and serving the Christ in others…loving our neighbors as ourselves?

Our founders chose the name Barnabas.

We now have the opportunity to be those sons and daughters of encouragement God wants us to be.

In the name of God…F/S/HS.