Psalm 22:1-11; James 3:13-18
Anger to Action?
James Sledge June
21, 2015
I
had a sermon all prepared for today. It continued our series connected to Brian
McLaren’s book and talked about becoming spiritually mature, moving beyond
juvenile versions of faith that get overly focused on rules or doctrines meant
to guide us to maturity, and moving toward maturity, toward the spiritual
wisdom James talks about in his letter. But then the shooting in Charleston
happened.
When
I heard the first new reports, it wasn’t clear exactly what had happened. But
as more information came in, I first hoped it wasn’t as bad as it sounded, that
it wasn’t as evil as it sounded. But as the reality of it kicked in, I just
felt numb.
But
that began to shift toward anger. The first anger was petty and selfish. “Now I
have to write a new sermon.” But that was quickly replace by anger that this
had happened again. Another mass shooting. Another example of America’s horrible
culture of guns and violence.
And
then there was the racial component. Race, the issue we wish would just go
away. The issue we think will somehow just fade away eventually. But here it is
again, in all its ugliness, from a young man who grew up in what was supposed
to be post racial America.
I
felt anger toward the culture that nurtures such racism. I grew up in North and
South Carolina. There is much I love about both states, and there have been
real changes from the segregated days of my childhood. But there is still much
deeply ingrained racism.. The N-word is common speech in many areas, and resentment
toward blacks is deep for some.
Proper
southern culture that disdains this racism nonetheless supports it. The
governor of South Carolina in one breath condemned the shooting, offering
heartfelt condolences and prayers for the victims and families and church, and
in the next breath defended the Confederate flag flying on the grounds of the
SC Statehouse.
I’ve
heard all the arguments about how the flag is not about hate, but about
southern heritage and pride. But a heritage of what? Pride in what? In a war
the South started that cost more Americans their lives than World War II did.
In a war fought to keep some human in the chains of slavery. I’m angry at a
culture that imagines it can venerate those who fought such a war, can send
black children to schools named for people who thought they were sub human, and
it not have any hate connected to it.
And
speaking of politicians, I’m angry that another mass shooting has happened, and
the politicians will wring their hands and over condolences and prayers and
then do absolutely nothing about an America awash in guns.
As
I stewed in my anger, I even felt anger toward the Church, not Emmanuel AME
Church but the church at large, because it too will wring its hands and offer
its prayers and then do nothing. I’ve been in the church business now for over
20 years, and I’ve learned that I’ll get calls and emails if we sing a song
people don’t like, if we change something about the worship service or the
children’s programs. But no one ever calls or emails after a shooting or some
other huge tragedy and says, “We have to do something.” Maybe it just seems
impossible. Maybe we’ve just become cynical and think we can’t change anything
other than the hymns or the children’s programs, but that alone is enough to
make me angry.
And
truth be told, I am angry at God, angry that God allowed this to happen, angry
that God doesn’t stir up the church or the world to make things better.
But
of course I knew I could not stand here today with nothing more than, “I am
grieving. I am angry.” True there is a long tradition of lament in the Bible,
by some counts psalms of lament are the most common sort of psalm. But even
they usually have an element of hope, and I am a minister of the gospel, one
called to proclaim good news.
Curiously,
the first hints of hope came out of the anger of others. As I read online posts
by African American friends and colleagues, I saw an anger quite different from
mine. It was an anger combined with fear. “Are we not safe anywhere?” And it
was an anger leveled at people like me, at white liberals. “We do not need
white ‘allies’ who don’t do anything,” they said.
Some
of these voices struck me as shrill, as overreactions in the heat of the
moment, but then I remembered who they were. They were people whose voices I respected,
people not prone to hyperbole for hyperbole’s sake. Maybe they weren’t overreacting
and viewing things from a skewed point of view. Maybe my view was the skewed
one. Perhaps I really am oblivious to what it’s like to be black in America,
and so I contribute to the situation rather than help.
And
if I can see something new out of this, perhaps there is some glimmer of hope. And
lo and behold I read in the new where Mitt Romney says to SC, “Take down the
flag.” And a Republican legislator in SC is going to introduce a bill to do just
that, reasoning that if the flag is hateful and offensive to many, it should
go. That strikes me as something in line with the wisdom, the spiritual maturity,
James speaks of. It’s not about my rights and what I want, but about the hurt
caused to the other. And that gives me hope.
And
who can miss the fact that family members and people connected with Emmanuel
spoke at the hearing for the shooter, spoke of forgiveness and mercy. I wonder
if love really can be more powerful than hate.
Then
there is the astounding thing the shooter apparently told police. He said that
he almost didn’t go through with it because they were so nice to him. My
peculiar read on that is that he encountered God’s love. He encountered
Christ-like love, and even though he only encountered it for a moment, it
almost changed him.
I’m
guessing he hadn’t encountered it much. Oh, I’m sure he had encountered
Christianity. You can’t grow up in SC and not encounter Christianity. But I
doubt he had really encountered this:
true, deep, mature Christian love that welcomed him, the outsider and, had they
had enough time, would have transformed him.
They
don’t have time, but we do. And we are called to be people of deep Christian
love. Deep, wise, mature, Christian love is not about mushy feelings. It is
about action; it is about doing. And I have this hope that out of this the
church may hear its call to act, to do something, to show by your good life that your
works are done with gentleness born of wisdom, wisdom that is pure,
then peaceable, gentle, willing to yield, full of mercy and good fruits, without
a trace of partiality or hypocrisy. I have this hope that the Spirit
may stir us, may stir Christians everywhere to become communities that nurture
deep Christian love and share it with the world.
The quote that’s
on your bulletin was supposed to be a part of that sermon from Brian McLaren on
Christians growing in maturity and wisdom. He says, “Could this be a central
purpose of the universe— to provide an environment in which self-control,
wisdom, and love can emerge and evolve? Could this be a central purpose in our
lives— to mature in self-control, wisdom, and love? And could this be a central
purpose of religion and spirituality— to multiply contagious examples of
maturity, to create communities where the more mature can mentor others, to
build a global Spirit movement toward individual and collective maturity?”[1]
the sort of wisdom James writes about.
That’s our call,
and that’s the hope we have because God promises us the Spirit, wisdom from
outside of ourselves to show us the way. And so, in hope, let me ask you to
take just a moment to silently reflect on the events of this past week, and on
what God may be calling you, and us, to do about it.
[1] McLaren,
Brian D. (2014-06-10). We Make the Road by Walking: A Year-Long Quest for
Spiritual Formation, Reorientation, and Activation (p. 224). FaithWords. Kindle
Edition.
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