Monday, September 18, 2017

Sermon for the 15th Sunday after Pentecost

Preached at Canadochly and Grace on September 17, 2017.
Scripture texts: Genesis 50:15-21, Matthew 18:21-35

In the classic martial arts film, Enter the Dragon, the villain, Mr. Han has invited one of his guests, Mr. Roper, to visit him in his home. Mr. Roper, a scoundrel of some ill-repute, is well-named, since he is “on the ropes” for much of the film as to whether he will side with the hero or the villain in the coming conflict. Mr. Han is determined to bring Roper onto his side, so he brings him into his personal museum, filled with weapons and military artifacts from throughout history. Han is clearly hoping to scare Roper into choosing him.


As Roper inspects the artifacts, Han begins to speak, “It is difficult to associate these horrors with the proud civilizations that created them: Sparta, Rome, The Knights of Europe, the Samurai... They worshiped strength, because it is strength that makes all other values possible. Nothing survives without it. Who knows what delicate wonders have died out of the world, for want of the strength to survive.” His efforts to intimidate Roper are not, in the end, successful, but that speech of Han’s has stuck with me. I don’t like it. I suppose I’m not supposed to like it, since it is the villain of the story talking. But I really think I dislike it is because I have a hard time disagreeing with it.

It is, I regret to say, the way the world has worked for the whole of human civilization (and probably before that.) Might has made right. Peace, what little we’ve had over the generations, has always come through superior firepower. As a Christian, I am compelled to believe there is a better way, that love and mercy are better than violence at creating peace. But I’m torn.

I’m particularly torn in these times in which we live. We’ve got Nazis again. Oh, I know, we’ve always had Nazis, but they were underground. Their ideology was so toxic they were embarrassed to let their true colors fly for all to see. Not so anymore. No, now they march in our streets unashamed, using their First Amendment rights (or so they claim) to intimidate and frighten anyone who is not like them.  And there are those who have argued we should do with them as my grandfathers’ generation did, kick them in the teeth, break their skulls. Some have tried to carry that out, like the Antifa movement, claiming themselves cut from the same mold as our war heroes of old. I can’t say I haven’t been tempted too. But is that the right answer?

And then there’s that world leader with the crazy hair and his increasing belligerence against all who oppose him. A leader with his finger on the nuclear button, who could at a whim, start World War III and wipe out all life on this planet. One such man is terrifying enough, but we’ve got two and they’re at loggerheads with one another. Is strength the answer to the threat of North Korea? Is strength the answer for North Korea to respond to the threat of us? Both our leaders seem to think so. Are they right?

“We must put an end to war or war will put an end to us.” JFK once wisely said. Sometimes, in my most despairing and cynical moments, I fear that will be our fate. I’m old enough to remember the Cold War, but I was the generation after all the foolishness of “duck-and-cover.” We knew better. Once the missiles launched, there would be nowhere to hide. It would be over. Endgame. Extinction.

Are we there again?

Perhaps, but as tempting as it is to give into fear and despair, I refuse to do so. I refuse to believe we humans are fated to destroy ourselves. I refuse to believe that because Jesus didn’t believe it. Are we broken and sinful? Yes. But inside the heart of even the darkest of us is a longing for peace and tranquility and harmony. Far too many believe the only way to achieve it is the destruction of enemies through violence and strength. But Jesus knew there was a better way to have peace: love.

Our Scripture readings today highlight one of the most difficult manifestations of love: forgiveness. I talked at length recently about how love is hard. Here’s the hardness of it. To love one’s enemies is to forgive them, no matter the wrongs they’ve done. Can it be done? But it takes great strength, greater than most of us know, but it’s also a different kind of strength.

Daryl Davis is a jazz musician, who’s played backup with Jerry Lee Lewis, B.B. King, and a host of other famous musicians. But now he has a new calling. He has, with very deliberate intent, gone out into the world to befriend white supremacists. Daryl Davis is black.


White supremacists scare me and I’m a white guy. I’m intimidated by the KKK. I fear that kind of hate, even when it’s not directed my way. Mr. Davis dives in where angels fear to tread. He talks with these people. They chat about music and the things they have in common. And the relationship grows and friendships are formed. And many of these white supremacists come to see the error of their ways. They surrender their hate. Many have even given Davis their robes; he’s built up quite a collection of them as I understand it.

I preached last week about how we love not just the victim but also the victimizer. This is how it’s done. And maybe that’s how we have peace.

It’s easy to get overwhelmed by the world’s evils. We see how big the problems are and think we can’t do anything. We can’t change the violence between nations or the hate in these mass movements. But there’s that old saying, “You eat an elephant one bite at a time.” Those movements are made up of people. Those nations have millions of citizens. Each of group a collection of individuals. And each individual not all that different from us. Twisted, fearful in ways we are not, but still human.

And maybe that’s Jesus’ point. You don’t win peace by loving the movement. You win peace by loving the person within it. One-on-one. Love, forgive, persist. Love, forgive, persist. Seventy times seven if need be. One person at a time.

It’s better than the alternative. I am not a big fan of Dr. Who (despite the Pizzarusso’s family’s efforts), but there is an amazing scene near the end of the 2015 season. The Doctor has gotten two sides of a feud (one human, one alien) in a room together and he’s pleading with them to stand down their hostilities. He says of war “Because it's always the same. When you fire that first shot, no matter how right you feel, you have no idea who's going to die. You don't know whose children are going to scream and burn. How many hearts will be broken! How many lives shattered! How much blood will spill until everybody does what they're always going to have to do from the very beginning -- sit down and talk!



Jesus’ call for forgiveness, his discipline mechanism in last week’s lesson, the story of Joseph in our First Lesson, are all pleading with us to skip the middle and get to the talking. Skip the violence and talk, like Daryl Davis. Skip the brutality and talk. One-on-one. One person at a time. That’s how you save the world.

That’s how you make peace. Real peace. By talking. By loving. By forgiving. The way Jesus did. Amen.







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