THE POLITICS OF GRACE AND FORGIVENESS
The Rev. Mark Sherwindt, Pastor
Zion Evangelical Lutheran Church
Lent 3: March 13-14, 2004
There were some present at that very hour who told him of the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices. And he answered them, "Do you think that these Galileans were worse sinners than all the other Galileans, because they suffered thus? I tell you, No; but unless you repent you will all likewise perish. Or those eighteen upon whom the tower in Siloam fell and killed them, do you think that they were worse offenders than all the others who dwelt in Jerusalem? I tell you, No; but unless you repent you will all likewise perish." [Luke 13: 1-5]
So, do you think that the terrorists who work out of Iraq are worse than the suicide bombers who threaten Israel? Do you think that the six Palestinians who were killed when their plans to set off a bomb in Gaza went awry last Saturday are deserving of more guilt than all the rest in this War on Terror? These are the questions that are raised with our Gospel Lesson this morning. The accident by the Tower of Siloam, which killed eighteen Palestinians, was not a natural disaster, or an accident waiting to happen due to design flaws. The Tower of Siloam was a symbol of local collaboration with the Roman occupiers. It was a local water project that displayed Roman prowess and the benefits that Rome's presence could bring to the Middle East; and for that very reason it was assaulted by local freedom fighters in a raid that went awry killing the plotters along with some innocent bystanders.
The two examples in our Gospel text are reminders of what the Middle East is like, what it has been like for ages, and what it might be like for years to come. It is an area in the world that longs for peace, but has never enjoyed it, and might not know what it looked like even if it were staring them in the face, which is what was happened in the person of Jesus Christ. Some say that politics and religion don't mix. Luke tells a story in which political realities and religious hopes are intertwined from the very first word uttered. Simeon's Song, Mary Magnificat, the politics of the temptation sequence, Herod "that fox" from last week, and now this week it is insurrection at Siloam: that is the story of salvation narrated in the Gospel of Luke.
Last week I drew attention to John Howard Yoder's The Politics of Jesus and Norman Perrin's Rediscovering the Teachings of Jesus, the one, a Mennonite focusing on peace, the other, a Lutheran focusing on forgiveness. Both were trying to find some explanation for understanding what it was about our preacher of love and forgiveness that led Jewish leaders and Roman authorities alike to find reasons to worry about his mission, and then cause to respond by putting him to death. For Yoder, it was the connection between love and non-violence in the message and mission of Jesus, the connection between being pro-peace and anti-war. That is what gets at the objection against Jesus; and there is a lot in Luke's Gospel (and early Christianity) to support this reading of Jesus and his message.
For Perrin, and for Lutherans in general, grace and forgiveness are the key. It is easy for many to understand what is objectionable about proclaiming principled pacifism as God's way in a violent world - since non-violent love would leave the world in which we live to the sinful ways of bullies and tyrants. But what could be so controversial about a religious leader who lifts up God's grace and calls for forgiveness? Perrin makes a good case. He focuses on the "table fellowship" for which Jesus was remembered both before his death and after his resurrection. We call this table fellowship holy communion, and focus on how God gives Himself to us through the body and blood of Jesus Christ. Luke saw another message in Jesus' table fellowship with sinners, namely, Jesus' vision of inclusion of the outcast, fellowship with outsiders, friendship with undesirables.
In Luke's day the outsiders were women, tax-collectors, and folks from families that came from outside the area, namely, Gentiles. When I was in college at the University of Connecticut, the north side of Boston dominated newspaper headlines, as bussing was the issue, and many Bostonians were not happy with it. When I was a seminarian at Trinity, Miami and south Florida were grabbing headlines as Americans were concerned about whether English or Spanish would be the language of commerce and the classroom. That troubled many who grew up in an America where English was unchallenged as our official language. As a graduate student at Notre Dame, it was Euro-centrism, and the issue of whether America needed to get away from the classics to embrace the new world that was emerging in Latin America, Africa, and the underside of life at home and abroad. In the 90s it became commonly known that, statistically speaking, white Americans were no longer the majority, but were just the largest minority, and now outnumbered by the various minorities we used to think were in the minority. There are still concerns about what this could mean. Inclusion is a great idea until those in the majority feel threatened by the changes inclusion promises.
Cultures, countries, and even congregations can find themselves resisting the changes that come with the realities of inclusion. I must admit that when it comes to embracing diversity, America stands out as a melting pot among the nations. This past Thursday, our North Canton Ministerial Association heard from John Samara, a Syrian Christian who is visiting with our colleague at Heather Ridge. John Samara used the phrase "free blood" to describe an attitude toward Christians among Muslims in the Arab world. He told us that when a member of a Muslim household converts to Christianity, their blood is free, which means that family members are free to kill them without cost because they have abandoned the family's ways and the community's traditions. The truth is that not many of us at our North Canton Ministerial meeting knew a great deal about Muslim traditions in Syria or the Arab world generally; but we all know that the Middle East has never been a model for tolerance - not in Roman times, not in Jesus' day, and certainly not today.
The inclusion that comes with the proclamation of God's gracious love, the inclusion that comes with the power of forgiveness, always threatens the status quo, always. Jesus knew what he was doing when he sat at table and ate with tax collectors and sinners, and so did the Jewish authorities that objected to the changes that Jesus' view would force upon them. Both Jesus and the record of early Christianity affirmed roles for women, and other outsiders like slaves and Gentiles, that broke with religious traditions and social customs, both Jewish and Roman. When the table fellowship of Holy Communion is more about a social vision of full inclusion than a personal relationship between me and God, then the power of God's grace to break through and to break down longstanding barriers rooted in tradition and culture shines a new light on our comfortable pews. In this regard, the fact that the Gospel Hour of churches at worship stands out as one of the most segregated hours of our week becomes a scandal and a stumbling block in the light of God's grace that shines through the Cross of Christ.
The Good News of God's grace is an open invitation to enter into the presence of God's love and full acceptance. Forgiveness is the practice of our getting used to sinners who are on the way to laying hold of the salvation of our souls and the transformation of our lives. This happens through the friendship and fellowship we enjoy with God and with God's people, which the body and blood of Jesus Christ makes possible among those who embrace his vision of God's kingdom and accept the claims of Christ's Lordship. Grace and forgiveness go hand-in-hand in cutting a path to the new life, the new way of life, God's love desires and envisions; and the social world of early Christianity broke new ground in creating new communities the likes of which the world had not previously seen. "There is no longer Jew and Gentile, there is no longer slave and free, there is no longer male and female; for all are one in Christ." [Galatians 3:28] This wasn't simply a hope and a prayer. That was the reality that changed Paul's world, and through Paul, changed our world, too. Paul eyes were opened to the difference God's grace could make in his world; and God wants His grace to make that kind of difference in our world, too.
It wasn't just a new word about God, a new pitch about salvation, or a new presentation about the power of love that led to the growth of early Christianity. The creation of new, inclusive communities: that was the eye-opening miracle that spawned Christianity's explosive growth. These new forms of community, modeled after Jesus' embrace of table fellowship with sinners, forged a new path for the kingdom of God, which transformed the worlds of Judaism, the Roman Empire, and life in the West ever since. This was the mixing of politics and religion that came with the proclamation of grace and forgiveness. It was not a message focused solely or primarily on restoring personal relationships, but one inviting a new world to emerge among us, where barriers that once divided us became bridges to fellowship in and through Christ. Grace challenges us to put away the things that divide; and forgiveness gives us permission to create bridges that unite Jews and Gentiles, rich and poor, East and West, North and South, male and female, black and white and Hispanic and Asian, united now by God's love, moved by the Spirit's power, and led to follow Christ's lead … in Jesus' Name. Amen