Readings FIRST LESSON The first lesson is based on Psalm 96 from Psalms Now by Leslie F. Brandt SECOND LESSON The second lesson is from Luke, Chapter 7, Verses 1 to 10 |
This Week's Sermon Date: June 13, 2010 -- Pride Sunday Title: It Takes All Kinds Message Delivered By: Rev. Dr. Joe McMurray A minister and a lawyer were seated next to each other on a flight from Los Angeles to New York. It was a long flight, and neither of them were interested in the movie. After a while, the lawyer asked the minister if he would like to play a fun game. The pastor, said, “Thank you. No.” And rolled over to sleep. The lawyer kept talking. He explained that the game was easy. "I ask you a question, and if you don't know the answer, you pay me five dollars; and then you ask me a question, and if I don’t know the answer, I pay you five dollars. It’s very simple." Again, the minister said he didn’t want to play, and rolled over once more. And once more, the lawyer persisted, this time a bit agitated. "Look, if you don't know the answer you pay me $5.00, and if I don't know the answer, I will pay you $500.00." Now that caught the minister’s attention. Figuring there would be no end to the torment unless he played, he agreed to try the game. The lawyer asked the first question. "What's the distance from the earth to the moon?" The pastor didn’t say a word. He reached into his wallet, pulled out a $5.00 bill and handed it to the lawyer. The lawyer grinned and said, “Okay, your turn.” He asked the lawyer, "What goes up a hill with three legs and comes down with four legs?" The minister then rolled over to sleep. The lawyer was puzzled, took out his laptop computer and searched all the references he could find, no answer. He tapped into the air phone with his modem and searched the internet and the Library of Congress, but still found no answer. Frustrated, he sent emergency e-mails to all his friends and co-workers, but to no avail. After an hour, he woke up the minister and handed him $500. Thinking the lawyer had had enough, the minister said, "Thank you", and turned over to fall back asleep. Without a word, the pastor reached into his wallet, handed the lawyer $5.00, and then went back to sleep. You can laugh, but I’ve tried this. It works! Will you pray with me? God, we recognize your presence in all of life. You have wisely created great diversity in our world. And though its beauty continues to expand, its splendor is sometimes muted. In our fear, we sometimes attempt to hide parts of your creation, parts of ourselves. As a forthright people, let us embrace not only the beauty we see, but the beauty within others we have yet to see. May our eyes be as open as those we pray will open their eyes to us—with gratitude and appreciation for all of your creation. And may my words and all of our thoughts be filled with honor and praise to you. Amen. The version of Psalm 96 that we heard this morning offers us a reminder of the simplicity of thanksgiving. Thanks-giving—giving thanks is just that—offering gratitude to God for the whole of creation. The clear invitation here is not to return to the old ways, but to create new ways of proclaiming God’s glory. The Psalm continues by offering graphic illustrations of the natural creations of God—mountains, oceans, the universe—before turning to God’s most mysterious and intricate of creations: humanity. Leslie F. Brandt, the contemporary writer who reinterpreted Psalm 96, recognizes science and the arts among humankind’s greatest achievements. I would go much further to include on this list the diversity of human relationships—the complexity of our feelings, one for another; the ways we uphold and support each other in times of crisis; the posture of strength we offer when others cannot find the strength to go on. Consider the intricacies of the relationships within us: body to mind, mind to spirit, and body to spirit as they interact with one another, highlighting the deepest facets of what makes us human. Each of these are gifts from God—including the very essence of who we are, and whatever it is that makes us become what we are. For far too long, many of us have suffered from the illusion that those with the loudest voices and the greatest fear will always have power over us. Some of us have risen up from time to time to prove that if we stand our ground and demand our rights, it will only be a matter of time until they are fully recognized. That has certainly been true for queer Americans who try to serve their country by enlisting in the military; who do not pursue special rights but equal rights—the right to marry and receive all the benefits and responsibilities that come with it—the right to live where they want and work where they want without fear or prejudice—the right to adopt children and safeguard their protection by inheritance, tax and social security rights. Yet we know that the situation we face is a two-edged sword. We seek our human rights—our rights as citizens of this country—rights that are protected to every individual by the Constitution. But there are other voices—voices from the religious sector—a very powerful system of corporations that attempt to thrust their misguided, un-Christian religious beliefs into our political system. Thus far, they have been successful. But we continue the fight, and there’s a lot to do. But for queer people of faith—for our straight sisters and brothers who are marching right along with us—what do we do as spiritual people? How can we possibly endure what we know God despises because it is not life-giving? We must start by believing that God made no mistakes; that God created us all equally; that God endowed us with specific gifts and characteristics, many of which overlap with the gifts and characteristics of other human beings, and some which are unique only to us. When we begin with that premise, we open ourselves to a deeper understanding of the beauty of all God’s creation. This is one of the message of today’s gospel. Surely, a very obvious theme concerns itself with authority—specifically Jesus’ authority—as indicated by his encounter with the Centurion who is eager to have his servant healed. That’s like saying Moby Dick, the famous American novel by Herman Mellville, is about a cantankerous captain and his on-again, off-again relationship with a great big fish. There’s quite a bit more to the story. While I agree that the spiritual authority of Jesus surpassed even that of the Centurion—one who was part of the Roman ruling class that enjoyed power over others—this scripture is as much about human relationships, socio-status, a journey of faith, and healing as it is about anything else. The Centurion was a professional Roman military officer in charge of a century, 100 men (though in reality, it was closer to 60 to 80 men). The rank of Centurion would be comparable to the contemporary rank of army Captain. Centurions were promoted to this rank, usually based upon merit or achievement. But this position rarely led to a distinguished military career, which was only available to members of the upper class. A Centurion, even one not of the upper social classes, would have held considerable power over someone like Jesus, a native resident in this occupied territory—or even the Jewish elders whom he sent to Jesus on his behalf. The elders were clearly indebted to the Centurion—it was through him that the synagogue had been built—a demonstration of his authority. And at this moment when he needed them most, the Centurion implored the elders to approach Jesus, on his behalf, to heal his servant. There are multiple relationships in this story, however imbalanced they may be. It remains quite clear that someone is always in need of something from someone that they cannot procure themselves. When Jesus heard the plight of the Centurion, he was moved to pity, moved to action—not because the man wielded power over him—but because the Centurion’s own special relationship to his servant was deep and respectful, and because his solid faith was recognizable. Jesus overlooked the imbalance of his own relationship to the Centurion. In fact, he set aside some of the founding principles of his own teachings in order to accommodate him. Jesus believed that every human being is worthy in God’s sight; that one should not wield power over another; that no human being should be enslaved; and that no one human being is more important than another. The Centurion, by default through his association and participation in the Roman government, supported the violation of these principles; he was, in fact, an enemy to the Jewish people. What Jesus taught stood in direct contrast to the job description of the Centurion. Despite this, Jesus was able to disengage from this inconsistency between the two, was able to rise above his own beliefs and principles—because something greater was at issue: someone’s life was in jeopardy, someone who was in deep relationship with another. And because the faith of the Centurion was strong and present, Jesus’ knew his ability to heal could change the lives of those involved, and so he acted on their behalf. Another issue prevailed in this story, one that’s unlikely to be found in most lectionary texts: the relationship of the Centurion to his servant. In these times, same-sex relationships—particularly those that featured an imbalance of the power structures of class, age, or race, were not atypical. The Hellenistic Period, covering the expanse of Greek world domination, and the subsequent rise of the Roman Empire, held particular beliefs and practices including variations of certain homoerotic relationships. In the then-common practice of pederasty, it would not be unusual for an adult male of the dominant culture, to have under his tutelage a younger male, either slave or free, by the time of the Roman dynasty. Obviously, the Scriptures do not explicitly state the nature of the relationship between the Centurion and his servant, just as it neglects to do so with Ruth and Naomi, with David and Jonathan, and countless others, including the relationship Jesus had with the disciple whom he loved. What we do know from our own perspective and our own experience is this: diverse identities of gender, and sexual orientation have been as much a part of humankind since humankind first walked the face of the earth—and so it will remain for as long as humankind remains on earth. Many of these identities, and the relationships that hold them, are reflected again and again in the Scriptures—many that scholars refuse to see, or that we have been taught to treat as invisible. We know from invisibility, do we not? We’ve learned very well to hide particular things—things that make the dominant culture uncomfortable to the point of causing terror—and make them invisible. It happens with homelessness, it happens with immigration, it happens with global warming, it happens with health care, it’s happened with AIDS, and it’s happened for far too long with our own sexualities. Many of us in this room came to adulthood in hiding. Many of our early lives were lived in secret. Some of us kept our sexuality hush-hush. We operated and engaged in relationships on the sly. We had the distinct impression, if we were not just blatantly told, to be quiet about “these things.” Nobody wanted to discuss it—nobody wanted to hear it—nobody wanted to see it. It was easier to pretend it wasn’t even there. If it was kept in the closet, if it was kept behind closed doors, it was ignored. It was the dirty little secret that kept us in our place. And if we dared show any sense of acknowledgment about our truths, we were confronted or threatened and accused of flaunting in front of everybody else. That was the backdrop of the broader culture in which many of us evolved as queer people. That was the atmosphere within which some tried to have honest conversation about who we were. And ultimately, if we were lucky enough to stop the denial, if we were brave enough to finally confront the truth, if we were honest enough to acknowledge our sexuality, if we were intelligent enough to accept it, if we were loving enough to embrace it, if we were proud enough to celebrate it, if we were so lucky to get that far—we were required to relive the experience of coming out again and again with every person with whom we held relationship and in every new situation we found ourselves. Meanwhile, we learned in our defensiveness how to confront those who confronted us: we would say, “everybody has problems; nobody’s perfect; it’s not my fault; we all have flaws; do you think if I had a choice I would have chosen it?” We reacted defensively to counteract the hatred, denial and ignorance of others. It’s was a natural reaction. But in our own way, we fed into the hatred with our own self-hatred: “How could God make me this way? Why couldn’t I have been normal? God, please help me to change!” We watched as those we thought loved us finally landed on a “love the sinner, hate the sin” mentality, which was equally painful to endure. As Psalm 96 clearly states, God made many wonderful things. Queer identity is not an aberration. It is not a mistake. It is not a choice. Our queerness is a God-given gift that we must embrace and celebrate. Those who reject it, reject God’s wisdom, God’s generosity, and God’s grace. Jesus did not reject the Centurion. He did not question the type of relationship he had with his servant. Would that we lived in such a society today where all that mattered was our healing, our loyalty and love to one another—to friends, families, neighbors, and our country. Would that foremost in importance would be the fact that through our faith we know that God is always with us and always loves us no matter the circumstances. That God loves us unconditionally. God created us as we are; God didn’t make an error in judgment. There is a reason and there is a purpose in our creation. To believe otherwise, as others would have us do, is be to buy into the sorry myth that God really didn’t create us this way—it is only our choice that makes us different. There are people who pray every day for us to change. They actually pray to God to change something God, in God’s own wisdom, created. Some try to force change by taking queer youth and attempting to brainwash them into thinking that their beauty, their uniqueness is an abomination; they tell us God hates us as we are; that God actually hates what God created. Perhaps you saw the propaganda in last Wednesday’s Citizen, paid for by Exodus International that anyone can change—anyone can be “cured” of their sexual orientation. I wonder how many saw the ad, two pages before, from MCC Key West that said: “God loves you just as you are.” As I walked along Duval Street last week, our friend with the “God Hates Fags” sign was out there doing his schtick. Someone stood next to him—at first I lamented that it might be a disciple. But it was a young woman who was talking with the man about human nature, about relationships, and about a God that loves unconditionally. Her sign read, “God Loves Everyone.” The message that God hates us is not only hurtful and offensive—it’s not true. In fact, it’s impossible. And everything that our faith stands for, every action, every word, every belief we have—if it does not reflect the unconditional love of God—it is not true. It is not real. It is not possible. As is borne out in the Scriptures, as is borne out in history and in our own experience, it takes all kinds to make the world what it is. It takes all kinds—queer-straight-bisexual, adults-adolescents-children, male-female-transgendered—and all the variations in between. We are a special part of God’s plan, for we are indeed a reflection of God’s wisdom in creating us just as we are. So let us actively celebrate ourselves and our God-given identities. We are all reflections of God’s image. And as people of God, let us continue to follow where God is leading. Amen.
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