RIC Sermon 2024

Here is the sermon I gave today at CTS' RIC Sunday service. Well, more or less, I made a few edits here and there, but this is basically it.

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"The Spirit of Exalted YHWH is upon me for YHWH has anointed me: God has sent me to bring good news to those who are poor; to heal broken hearts; to proclaim release to those held captive and liberation to those in prison; to announce a year of favor from YHWH, and the day of God’s vindication; to comfort all who mourn, to provide for those who grieve in Zion–to give them a wreath of flowers instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of tears, a cloak of praise instead of despair. They will be known as trees of integrity, planted by YHWH to display God’s glory.” - Isaiah 61:1-3, Inclusive Bible

Welcome and well-come to the 2024 Reconciling in Christ service at Christ the Servant in Gaithersburg, MD.

I’m going to be frank. The world sucks right now. Just look around and you’ll know exactly what I am talking about. Since we last celebrated RIC Sunday, Israel and Hamas have gone to war, laws have been passed to control the bodies of pregnant and trans people, the world has experienced an increasing number of natural disasters made worse by climate change, and oh so much more. If you stopped there, it would be almost impossible to continue to exist in the world.

But we can’t stop there. When I was looking at the readings to prepare this sermon, I noticed a thread I don’t think I had noticed before. That thread is a glimpse of hope into the future. A way of looking at the world and imagining a new world, a better world than the one we live in. A world where two Mexican-American boys can meet in 1987 El Paso, Texas, fall in love, and discover the mysteries of the universe together in the palms of each other’s hands. A world where a fat girl in 1962 Baltimore can become a part of a big local show and work against racism and fatphobia. A world where a non-binary person in North Carolina can be kicked out of their parents’ house on a freezing cold night and eventually discover friendship, love, acceptance, and how to trust people once again thanks to the boy next door. A world where a Mormon missionary from Pocatello, Idaho can meet a party boy in Los Angeles and discover the importance of love and a chosen family. A world where a girl from San Francisco can discover she is a princess of a small European country and eventually become its queen. A world where a girl from Edgewater, Indiana works with her principal and a group of Broadway actors to bring about an inclusive prom for kids from all over the state after she is excluded from her school’s prom while helping her closeted girlfriend come out to her mom. A world where a surfer who has given up on his life and his art has his hope rekindled thanks to the love of another surfer who happens to be his best friend’s brother. And I can keep going. Each of these scenarios I mentioned is a one (or two) sentence summary of a movie or book that asks us to imagine a new world and gives us hope that such a world is in fact possible.

When talking with a member of CTS last summer, I was told that they did not have the faith in humans that I do. I think I should clarify something, I am something of a cynical person, I am a queer, non-binary person who survived a cult when I was growing up and then managed to avoid a second when I was in college. I am not starry eyed when it comes to how awful humans can be. But, I have also seen how truly wonderful humans can be and how we can dream and yearn for a better world. I have seen people inspire others with their visions of a better world and bring forth movements who work in unison to make the world better even if the odds against them seem to be insurmountable.

In today’s first reading, we see the expansiveness and capaciousness of God’s Love and Mercy. Isaiah tells us how God says that “my house will be called a house of prayer for all peoples!” Not just one particular group of people, but all people. Likewise, in Acts, Peter has a dream where God is telling him that nothing, *NOTHING*, God makes is unclean or profane. How everything God makes is worthy of love and respect. Both readings also ask us to look to a future where ideas like “unclean” or “profane” are no longer applied to God’s creation. They ask us to imagine a time when made up human ideas no longer divide us and we work to make us all truly one. Such a world is not easy to imagine and it is even harder to implement. But I believe that such a world is possible and is well worth imagining.

And then there is the gospel. In the gospel reading today, much of how the world thinks is turned on its head. We are told to treat all people, even those we consider our enemies, with love and compassion and respect. The gospel does not command us to submit meekly to abuse, as so many people want to interpret it. Rather it asks us to look at the world with a new set of eyes. A set of eyes that see all people as people, that sees them as worthy of simple human dignity and respect. Not because we always agree with them, but because they are human beings and all human beings are deserving of love and respect simply because they are human beings. I’m not saying this is easy to do cause it’s not. But it is a part of creating a new world for all people, regardless of any differences that we may have.

This new world, this world where people can simply exist, a world where people can love who they love, and where all are truly free from oppression, hatred, and violence, seems to be a distant dream, a nirvana, something unattainable, or (forgive the pun) a world away. I’m not going to pretend that this new world is as easy as a finger snap or a wink or a blink. But we have briefly seen glimpses of this possible future over the last several years. The new world was never fully realized, but it started to peek through before hatred began to push back. And that gives me hope. That is a Hope that I cling to. It is one of two constants in my life that allows me to continue to exist in and move through the world (the other being God’s Love). If I did not have this Hope, I am not sure what I would do.

The prelude that Polly and Florence played today is the song “Hands” by Jewel. The first verse and chorus goes: “If I could tell the world just one thing it would be that we're all ok. And not to worry 'cause worry is wasteful and useless in times like these. I won't be made useless, won't be idle with despair, will gather myself around my faith for light does the darkness most fear. My hands are small, I know, but they're not yours, they are my own. But they're not yours, they are my own, and I am never broken.” Here too, we are urged to not give up and not give into despair or hopelessness. We are urged to see our hands, however small they may be, as our own hands and as tools we can use for liberatory purposes and to build a new world. 

I want to close by reading an excerpt from the book Aristotle and Dante Dive Into the Waters of the World that does a good job talking about this new world, albeit from a different perspective. In this scene, Aristotle and Dante are holding hands looking at a picture called The Raft of the Medusa and Aristotle is remembering the lessons he has learned and the people he has met who have influenced his life:

“I felt him take my hand in his, a hand that held all the secrets of the universe, a hand I would never let go until I memorized each and every line of his palm. I looked up at the painting, the survivors of a shipwreck, fighting the waves of a storm, struggling to get back to the shore, where life was waiting for them. I knew why I loved that painting. I was on that raft. Dante was on that raft. My mother and Dante’s mom and dad and Cassandra and Susie and Gina and Danny and Julio and Mr. Blocker. And Mrs. Livermore and Mrs. Alvidrez, they were on that raft too. And those who had died too soon—my dad and my aunt Ophelia and Cassandra’s brother, and Emma’s son and Rico, and Camila, all the lost people that the world had thrown away—they were there with us on that raft, and their dreams and desires too. And if the raft collapsed, we would dive into the waters of that stormy sea—and swim our way to shore. We had to make it to shore for Sophocles and all the newly arrived citizens of the world. We had learned that we were all connected, and we were stronger than any storm, and we would make it back to the shores of America—and when we arrived, we would throw out the old maps that took us to violent places filled with hate, and the new roads we mapped would take all of us to places and cities we’d never dreamed of. We were the cartographers of the new America. We would map out a new nation. Yes, we were stronger than the storm. We wanted so much to live. We would make it to the shore with or without this ragged, broken raft. We were in this world, and we were going to fight to stay in it. Because it was ours. And one day the word “exile” would be no more. I didn’t care what was going to happen to Dante and me in the future. What we had was that moment, and right then, I didn’t want or need anything else. I thought of everything we had been through and all the things we had taught each other—and how we could never unlearn those lessons because they were the lessons of the heart, the heart learning to understand that strange and familiar and intimate and inscrutable word “love.” Dante turned away from the painting and faced me. I turned to face him, too. I’d missed his smile. Such a simple thing, a smile. “Kiss me,” I said. “No,” he said, “you kiss me.” And so I kissed him. I didn’t ever want to stop kissing him. But we couldn’t kiss forever. “You know,” I whispered, “I was going to ask you to marry me. But they won’t let us do that. So I thought maybe it was best just to skip the wedding and get straight to the honeymoon.” “Have you decided where you’d take me?” “Yes,” I said. “I thought I’d take you to Paris. We’ll spend our time writing our names on the map of the city of love.””

Familia de mi corazon, may we always work for justice and to make a better world. May we never tire of bringing a new world into being and may we always know we can find rest in the Love and Mercy of God. May we find our inspiration to work for this new world, this better world, this loving world, so that we can continue on. And may we never lose faith that this new world is possible, even if the odds do not seem to be in our favor.

And let the church say,

 “AMEN!”