Matthew 21:23-32
Fearless Living and Nominal Christians
James Sledge October
1, 2017
I’ve
had the opportunity to visit the Smithsonian’s National Museum of African
American History and Culture twice since it opened a year ago. I know that many
of you have been, and I hope all of you will take the time to see it at some
point. On both my visits there I was struck by a quote etched into the glass
covering one of the displays.
It’s
by Olaudah Equiano who, along with his sister, was kidnapped as a child in
Africa and sold as a slave in America.. Equiano gained his freedom prior to the
American Revolution, left the colonies, and settled in London. There he wrote
his memoir and became something of a celebrity and important figure in the British
abolitionist movement.
He
had become a Christian while still in the colonies, but he must have struggled
to reconcile his faith with what he had seen done by Christian slave owners. In 1789 he said, “O, ye nominal Christians!
Might not an African ask you—Learned you this from your God who says to you, Do
unto all men as you would men should do unto you?”
In
the little research I’ve done, I found nothing to suggest that Equiano ever
abandoned his Christian faith, but his lament is commonly echoed by those in
our day who have given up on the church. They see little difference in those
inside the church and outside it, other than the claim of faith. Like Equiano,
they might ask what exactly we learned from our God, from this Christ we say is
or Lord, our Master.
This
problem of faith existing more in name than in action is apparently nothing
new. Jesus addresses it in this morning’s gospel reading. He is teaching in the
temple on the day after his big, parade-like entry into Jerusalem. Jesus had
caused a ruckus then by coming to the Temple, driving out those selling animals
for sacrifice, and turning over the tables used to exchange foreign, profane
coins into those that didn’t violate the commandment on images and could be
used for offerings. Now Jesus is back, no doubt attracting the same sort of
sick and poor and sinners and riff raff he always does, and the leaders approach
him.
“What
gives you the right to do all this?” they ask. But Jesus doesn’t answer their
question. Instead, he asks them about what authority they do recognize. “Answer
that, says” Jesus, “and I’ll tell you where my authority comes from. Did the
baptism of John comes from God?”
They do not recognize John the Baptist as
having divine sanction, but they are unwilling to say so publically. So Jesus
moves on, telling a parable of two sons told by their father to work in the
vineyard and then asking, “Which of the two did the will of his father?”
The
answer is obvious, and Jesus’ opponents easily give the correct one, setting
the stage for Jesus to tell yet another parable about a vineyard, one that ends
with Jesus directly condemning the chief priests and elders, the church leaders
of his day. They are the ones engaged in a nominal faith that says the right
things and does the right rituals but fails to do God’s will, and even seeks to
thwart it.And they will be tossed aside.
These
opponents of Jesus have often been viewed as cartoon bad guys, leaders of the
forces of evil, and so Christians have rarely identified with chief priests and
elder and scribes and Pharisees. But actual cartoon bad guys are pretty rare.
Much more common are people who think they are being faithful, who imagine that
their faith practices are pleasing to God. Surely most of the Jewish leaders
who resisted the Jesus movement thought they were doing what was right, thought
they were doing God’s will.
But
notions of God’s will too easily get attached to the status quo, to the rituals
and styles people have grown comfortable with. The get connected with cultural
norms and institutional maintenance. They’re assumed to be compatible with the values
of the day.
And
so Jesus is seen as a trouble maker who needs to be reined in, or stopped if he
insists on continuing to cause trouble. A couple hundred years later,
Christianity decides to support the Roman Empire in exchange for becoming the
official state religion. Centuries after that the Church writes theological
justifications for the slavery that builds a hugely profitable colonial system
for European nations, and then builds the American economy. In the 1950s and
60s, white, Protestant churches mostly told Martin Luther King to slow down, to
quite making so many waves. More recently, many of us have happily stayed
oblivious to our own participation in white privilege and white supremacy,
sometimes going so far as to label our white, European styles of worship and
music as superior and the standard forms from which all other styles are a
deviation. There’s worship, and there’s black worship.
Over
and over and over down through history, the Church has seemed to miss the
lesson of today’s parable. We’ve cared more about words and rituals and getting
the beliefs stated correctly than we have about doing what God wants. We’ve
seemed to answer Jesus’ question, “Which of the two did the will of his father?” by saying, “The one
who said the right thing, or sang the right songs, or had the right kind of
worship.”
But
by the power of the Holy Spirit, the risen Jesus continues to move in his church, confronting us,
challenging us, and inviting us into the joy of following him and doing God’s
will. And I see evidence of the Spirit moving, of the living Christ’s presence,
all around FCPC. From a Renew process that speaks of inviting others into an
“alternative, counter-cultural way of being together,” to the burgeoning
responses to racism and white privilege, to the Stewardship Committee’s them of
“Fearless Giving,” I see people who are trying to seek God’s will, not simply
to be what we’ve always been or maintain the status quo or keep the
institutional church running. I see people who are willing to step out, take risk,
and grow.
In
fact, I see our stewardship theme of “Fearless Giving” as one, critical
component of what Jesus asks of each of us, Fearless
Living. Following Jesus, being counter-cultural, taking risk, or engaging
in true generosity requires a fearlessness that is not concerned about what
others may think, that is not overly frightened at the possibility of failure,
that isn’t always worried about not having enough. It requires a fearlessness
that can go where Jesus calls us, even when that seems odd, strange, difficult,
or scary.
But
this fearlessness is not about us becoming stronger or better. It’s not about
trying harder and outperforming others. Rather it is about faith, about
trusting that Jesus knows the way better than we do, and he will lead us where
we truly need to go. And such faith, such trust, is a gift, a freedom
discovered when the Spirit moves in our hearts, when Christ is present to us.
Can
you feel the winds of the Spirit blowing?
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