Our campus ministry, if it knows nothing else, knows how to execute the perfect icebreaker question. A few weeks ago, the question was this: What is a story from your childhood that says a lot about the adult you grew up to be?
And the first story that popped into my head was from the first grade. Our teacher had put little tiny chalkboards in the cubbies in each of our desks- you know to write things on and hold them up, or practice our writing- and one day, I do not even remember what was happening, the kid seated next to me pulled out their chalkboard, wrote I hate you on it, and showed it to me. And little Ethan burst into tears, I cried and cried and cried, oh my goodness. There I was, minding my own business, and I was attacked! LOL!
The teacher pulled us both aside and asked the kid why they did it, and the answer when you're in the first grade- why did you pull the chair out from behind them before they sat down, why did you call them that name, why did you hit them, the answer is pretty much always: I don't know. And that's what it was that day in Miss Kirk's first grade class. But that little Ethan who just did not GET why somebody would write I hate you on a chalkboard and show it to someone grew up into this adult Ethan who finds this world we live in- so full of hate, directionless, causeless hate- to heartbreaking place to be. To be a person that reads the news, that has friends that are hurting, to see so much care withheld out of spite or prejudice or in the name of efficiency, I just do not get it. I do not get it.
And, that little Ethan that became this adult Ethan that became this father Ethan, gets to stand in this pulpit today and tell you somehow that we are meant to do as Christians, now more than ever, is: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. And I don't WANNA. And that does not change the fact that that is what we are tasked with, every day of our lives, even now.
The story Joseph in the book of Genesis is quite the story to illustrate this. Joseph was a dreamer, he wore a pretty coat, in his dreams he saw great plans that God had for him, and it made his brothers very angry. And in their anger, in their fear, because of the mob permission they gave to one another, they sold him into slavery. They sold their brother out and assumed that it became his demise. But it was not Joseph's demise, God took care of him and blessed him and in his integrity and leadership, and Joseph lead not only his own people but people from all over through a terrible famine. Among the people he got through the famine, were the brothers that sold him into slavery.
We might ask ourselves: What did Joseph owe to his brothers? What kindness or care would have been due to them? What is hate owed in return? Let's even step out from the church for a second- what would our 2025 social and political culture instruct Joseph about what is owed his brothers? How is hate repaid? So much care and mercy are rationalized away and how much vengeance is permitted and even encouraged.
I say all this not to be some kind of priest gotcha- if you've got anger or vengeance in your heart, the bible says stop. I say all this to say that this is really complicated, and it's really, really hard. And how we act in the face of so much hate is the question we are neck deep in right now, and we will be here for a while.
One of the things that is of the most comfort, perhaps, in the Christian faith is the knowledge that in the fullness of time, God will heal all hurt and reconcile all division. The question of how we act in the face of so much hate, will recede, because the hate will recede. In fact, this future that God promises is a reflection of what we experienced in the very beginning in the Garden of Eden: human beings fully reconciled to one another and to God and to creation. No snakes, no apples, a knowledge of only good, not evil. We started at peace with one another and God, and we will end there too. But for now, we're in the middle, where there does not feel like there is much peace.
Our work as Christians is to keep our eyes on that future where all pain is healed, all hurt is amended, all division repaired and all hate sublimated. Our work is to keep our eyes and our hearts and our minds pointed to that future and wonder how we get from here to there.
The getting from here to there, from this day, this moment, to the kingdom of God; it is big work, work that is bigger than me or you or us, bigger than this church, this generation, bigger than humanity even, a lot of that work belongs to God alone. But I do know that I have a role to play in it and so do you. And I do know that the distance between here and the Kingdom of Heaven is the distance Joseph and his brothers, it is the distance between me and the person that hates me, and it is also the distance between and the person who I find most annoying, or who I've written off. It is the distance between the least and the last among us and the people who want only misery for them. The distance between here and our reconciled future is the distance between the cross and the empty tomb.
It is a terrible responsibility we have as Christians, this desire to cross the distance between us, and yet, I suppose, what other way is there to live?
I do not mean this to sound easy- it's not.
I do not mean this to say take risks with your well-being- do not.
But this believing that a better future is possible, and wondering what role we have to play in getting there, what other way is there to live?
And I know that that future is possible- I know that the kingdom of God is possible- because I've seen it here, at St George's, and with all of you. In big ways and in little ways, as a whole church together and in coffees on the patio of Agora and in living rooms and seated around a table. We are crossing that distance here, together, and thank God for it. So if you just cannot imagine where we go from here, might I suggest that you lean in for a season- lean in here at this church, or with your friends or your family, lean in with your prayer or in your worship, find the people or the relationships or the practices that help you believe that the Kingdom of God is both possible and on it's way, and I bet, together, in care and in fellowship a way forward will reveal itself. The world is heartbreaking, but that is not the only thing that it is, and heartbreaking is not the last thing this world will ever be.
Amen.
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