Preaching text: Acts 10:34-43
It was a typical day on the Internet. One of my more politically conservative friends had posted a meme to Facebook about our outgoing President. It said something to the effect of “Obama has a Muslim name. He went to a Muslim school. He lived in one of the largest Muslim countries for most of his childhood (Indonesia). At what point did he become a Christian?” *sigh*
The Conspiracy theory that WILL NOT die.
I can’t believe people are still beating this dead horse. It makes me ask two questions. First, suppose for the sake of argument, he does believe in the Islamic faith. So what? The vast vast vast majority of Muslims worldwide are not terrorists. We may disagree with them on matters of faith, but otherwise they’re pretty much just like us. Just wanting to make their way in the world. Raise their families. Make a decent living. Just like you and me.
The second question is what about people like Khadijah Islam? The young woman interviewed in this month’s Living Lutheran magazine, talking about her Lutheran faith and heritage. You don’t get a much more Islamic name than to have the word “Islam” as your surname. Is her Christian faith suspect too because of her name? Because of her Arab ethnicity?
The simple fact of the matter is that we human beings, everyone of us, is infinitely complex. There’s always more to us than there appears. One of my great frustrations with bigotry is how lazy it is.
I know Joe. Joe is a bad person. Joe also just happens to be black...or Latino...or gay...or whatever. Because Joe is bad and this other thing, therefore all people who are that thing must be bad. That’s the basic logic of bigotry. It’s stupid and it’s lazy. There’s a whole lot more to people than just those surface realities. But because we choose to not seek that deeper truth about people, people cease to be people and they simply become a label. That’s not a person with passions, hopes, dreams, desires, experiences, memories, opinions, and everything else that makes us who we are. No, they’re just black or gay or Muslim and that’s all they are.
Jesus knew better and so should we.
But, in fairness, even the disciples took a while to learn this lesson. Take Peter for instance. He was there for everything. He was there for the Beatitudes and the sermon on the mount. He was there when Jesus walked on water (and did a little of that himself.) He was there when Jesus fed the 5000. He was there for the crucifixion and the resurrection.
He was also there when Jesus healed the Roman centurion’s servant. He was also there when Jesus ate with Matthew and Zaccheus and all the other tax collectors and sinners. He was there when Jesus healed the woman with 7-year-hemorrhage. He was there when he spoke to the Samaritan woman at the well. He was there when the sinful woman (likely a prostitute) anointed Jesus’ feet and washed them with her hair. All of those things were forbidden to a good Jewish boy like Jesus. All of those people were persona non grata to the religious establishment. Jesus, Son of God and Son of Man, DID NOT CARE. They were children of God, created in his image, and as such precious to the Father. So he ministered to them, regardless of what others might have said or thought.
Did Peter get it after witnessing all that? Nope. Old habits are hard to break and he was raised in that environment with all those rules about who you associate with and who you don’t. That’s his “default setting,” as it were. So when Peter is on his own, doing his own apostolic ministry in Jesus’ name, what’s he to do when a bunch of Romans show up at this door? Romans. The occupiers. The tyrants. Those people who have robbed Israel of its freedom. The enemy. And here they are, a bunch of them asking about Jesus.
People are not always what they appear. Everyone of us is infinitely complex. And God knows that. But Peter needs a little extra pushing. So he receives a vision from God to convince him to go with these Romans. He does so. He preaches to them about Jesus and witnesses the Holy Spirit come upon them. On Romans. On “those people.” Our second lesson is his response to witnessing that. He finally gets it.
Do we?
Our society is increasing its demands on us to be suspicious of or even hostile to those different from us. But that’s our mission field, those who are different. Every person is fearfully and wonderfully made as the psalmist so poetically puts it. Every person precious to God, each one a beloved child. Yeah, some of them may not believe in him. So what? Yeah, some of them don’t look like us. So what? Yeah, some of them don’t speak the same language. So what? You never know what God’s going to do, but we know what we’re supposed to do. Love them like Jesus did. Serve them like Jesus would have. Be there for and with them as Jesus is. As Luther puts it, we are “little Christs” to one another and to the world.
As I’ve said numerous times in these sermons, Jesus came for everyone. Peter’s encounter with the Roman household of Cornelius in Acts is proof of that. When Jesus enters into the waters of the Jordan and John objects, we always find it curious what Jesus says in response. “Let it be so to fulfill all righteousness.” Jesus isn’t there to repent, but to dedicate himself to the purpose of saving the world. The whole world. Everyone if possible. That is his idea of righteousness. It takes him all the way to the cross and the empty tomb. All of it done for people like you and me and all those folks who are different from us.
The next move is ours. There’s a great big world out there. And it needs a whole lot of love in these times of stress and fear. We know what we have to do. Time to get busy. Amen.
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