Sermons from Park Hill Congregational UCC Denver, Colorado Rev. Dr. David Bahr [email protected] April 25, 2021 “Love and Accountability” 1st John 3: 16-24 – Common English Bible This is how we know love: Jesus laid down his life for us, and we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers and sisters. 17 But if someone has material possessions and sees a brother or sister in need but refuses to help—how can the love of God dwell in a person like that? 18 Little children, let’s not love with words or speech but with action and truth. 19 This is how we will know that we belong to the truth and reassure our hearts in God’s presence. 20 Even if our hearts condemn us, God is greater than our hearts and knows all things. 21 Dear friends, if our hearts don’t condemn us, we have confidence in relationship to God. 22 We receive whatever we ask from him because we keep his commandments and do what pleases him. 23 This is his commandment, that we believe in the name of his Son, Jesus Christ, and love each other as he commanded us. 24 Those who keep his commandments dwell in God and God dwells in them. This is how we know that he dwells in us, because of the Spirit he has given us. “Little children, let’s not love with words or speech but with action and truth.” I want to begin by sharing a few things about the epistle of 1st John – not really a letter in the traditional biblical sense, and not likely written by anyone named John. It’s part of a collection of writings from the Johannine community that include the Gospel of John, 1st, 2nd, and 3rd John, and the Book of Revelation. The Gospel of John addresses the conflict between the emerging church and the synagogue, but the epistles of 1st and 2nd John address two major internal, intra-church, conflicts. 3rd John – only 15 verses long – is about one particularly disruptive member of the community. So, the conflict in 1st John is this: some members denied the full humanity of Jesus; and some members were not being as loving toward one another as they should.[1] The words lying, hatred, refusal to love, and self-deceit are used frequently throughout 1st John. But if they truly embraced the full humanity of Jesus, they would love one another. Love is the central theme of 1st John. In fact, in it’s 5 short chapters, it uses the word love or loving or beloved 50 times. That’s more than all of Matthew, Mark, and Luke combined in 68 chapters. As it says in our text for today, “This is how we know love: Jesus laid down his life for us, and [therefore] we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers and sisters.” And then the author makes it crystal clear what that means, not in mere words but action: “If someone has material possessions and sees a brother or sister in need but refuses to help – how can the love of God dwell in a person like that?” Our Lunch and Lectionary group spent a significant amount of time on Thursday talking about the SOS camp coming to our Park Hill neighborhood in June. SOS stands for Safe Outdoor Shelter. It’s an innovative way to provide shelter and a multitude of social services for 50 unhoused people in a mini tent city for six months.[2] It has generated a lot of reaction in our relatively wealthy neighborhood and plenty of anger and division, with words that resonate with the “we can do better” sentiment of those opposed to the last attempt to address homelessness. Words that didn’t materialize into anything better. But, instead of just talking about it, I want to show this short news clip about the camp and neighborhood reaction.[1] [1] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hB2xZ9vr31k First John is written as if the author had submitted a letter to the editor in Greater Park Hill News: “If someone has material possessions and sees a brother or sister in need but refuses to help – how can the love of God dwell in a person like that?” Those are pretty strong words and some might even hear them as accusatory, but it comes down to this: “Little children, let’s not love with words or speech but with action and truth.” The use of the words “little children” is not meant as a put down, as in “stop acting like children,” but a term of endearment, closeness and intimacy. Of a tight knit community caught up in conflict. But loving with actions and truth and not mere words or speech struck me in another way this week. On Tuesday, the officer who murdered George Floyd was found guilty on all counts. A murder that the whole world witnessed. And then the whole world waited, nervously, to see what would happen in response. We were right to disbelieve justice would come to the Floyd family. Remember Rodney King? The whole world watched that too. Where is justice for Breonna Taylor? Where is justice for fellow Minnesotan Philando Castile? Or Eric Garner or Michael Brown or…? None of those officers, and dozens more, have been brought to justice. So, when the verdict was read, people could finally exhale. A whole range of emotions spilled forth – shouts of joy, expressions of disbelief, sobs of release, and tears – just tears without emotion. Some just felt numb. How are we supposed to feel? Was this supposed to bring some sense of satisfaction? Minnesota Attorney General Keith Ellison quickly reminded us that a guilty verdict was not enough for justice. As he said, "I would not call today's verdict justice, because that implies true restoration. But it is accountability, which is the first step towards justice, and now the cause of justice is in your hands." I really resonated with that sentiment. That sounds like love in truth and action and not mere words or speech. Accountability. But then a wise young man named Roshan Bliss made me question even that. Some of you know Roshan. He has spoken here during worship as part of the Denver Justice Project, one of our mission partners. Like many others, he also wrestled with questions about how he was supposed to feel and said, “I don’t think we’re even getting accountability. [Because,] in a deep sense, I don’t think our adversarial, punitive ‘justice’ system is even capable of that.” And then he lays out the most beautiful description I’ve ever heard of what accountability could look like.[3] He speaks with an incredible prophetic imagination just like the best of the biblical prophets. I told him I should start calling him Reverend Bliss. Roshan said, “I think accountability would look more like Chauvin having to look George Floyd's family in the eyes - individually, one at a time - and tell them that he was wrong and that he's so, so sorry he took their loved one... and mean it.” He said, “I think accountability would look more like Chauvin financially supporting George Floyd's 7-year-old daughter until she gets through college, at the least.” That’s prophetic imagination. He said, “I think accountability would look more like Chauvin, for the rest of his life, having to stop whatever he was doing and listen, deeply listen, to family members whenever they were reminded of George or missing him and wanted to tell a story about him.” That’s prophetic imagination. Roshan’s prophetic imagination draws upon the writings of Danielle Sered, founder of the group Common Justice.[4] She said this: “In our culture, when we say accountability, we usually mean punishment. But the two are not only different, I actually believe that they’re not compatible… All we have to do to be punished is to not escape it. It’s doesn’t require anything in terms of our agency. It doesn’t require us to work at it. It doesn’t require us to acknowledge anything. It is something that is inflicted upon us by somebody else.” “Accountability is different. Accountability is active. It requires that you acknowledge what you have done, that you acknowledge its impact on others, that you express genuine remorse, that you make things right to the degree possible, ideally in a way defined by those who were harmed, and that you do the extraordinary, hard labor of becoming someone who will never cause that kind of harm again.” Therefore, Roshan said, in addition to looking each of George Floyd’s family members in the eyes with true remorse, paying for his daughter’s education, and stopping to listen any time he is asked, “I think accountability would look more like Chauvin having to go around the country telling other police officers about what he should have done differently, sharing the story of how he came to realize what he did was wrong, and supporting other officers to similarly take ownership of the harm they've caused, walking with them as they face the consequences and seek to make their own amends and personal transformations.” That’s prophetic imagination. Roshan said, “I think accountability would look more like Chauvin doing hard, life-long work to make his name synonymous with the movement to end police violence or the fight to end the dominance of police unions that resist and thwart efforts to hold officers accountable.” That’s prophetic imagination. And doesn’t that strike you as more like love in action and truth than merely speech or words? It’s incredibly hopeful, in a time that can feel hopeless. It's not to suggest that he not face time in prison, but that there are other remarkably redemptive ways to address crime and punishment. However, he said, “that kind of accountability can't be forced on someone or handed down by a judge. Accountability is a decision that a person has to make for themselves. I don't think our system can support the real accountability I'm imagining because it's so structurally oriented toward punishment.” Or as Ibram X Kendi says, so focused on compliance.[5] He said he keeps having to confront the narrative that “If you comply with police orders, you won’t get shot.” Except if you’re sleeping or eating ice cream in your own apartment or sitting in a park or reading a book. A system that is not color blind but associates Black lives with guilt, danger, and criminality. Overly militarized. Ill equipped to address public health and safety issues, addiction crises, and other mental health issues.[6] Frankly, called upon to do too much. And yet this morning, may we not dare hope that this verdict will be the first conviction, not the last, the beginning that forces a reckoning and opens the door to the kind of prophetic and hopeful imagination that could lead from punishment to accountability to true justice. I hold onto hope that step by step there is a way to move from words about love into love found in action and in truth. As we hear in 1st John, if we follow Jesus, the Jesus whose love for humanity was ultimately expressed in his sacrifice; this fully human Jesus shows us the way to love one another. [1] Gail O’Day, The Women’s Bible Commentary, Westminster/John Knox, 1992, p. 374 [2] https://www.coloradovillagecollaborative.org/safe-outdoor-space [3] https://www.facebook.com/roshan.montana [4] https://www.commonjustice.org/danielle_sered [5] https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2021/04/compliance-will-not-save-my-body/618637/ [6] https://sojo.net/articles/us-policing-broken-christians-must-reimagine-public-safety
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Sermons from Park Hill Congregational UCC Denver, Colorado Rev. Dr. David Bahr [email protected] Easter April 4, 2021 “Life After Crucifixion” John 20: 14-18 – New Revised Standard Version When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not know that it was Jesus. 15 Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?” Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.” 16 Jesus said to her, “Mary!” She turned and said to him in Hebrew,[a] “Rabbouni!” (which means Teacher). 17 Jesus said to her, “Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and say to them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’” 18 Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord”; and she told them that he had said these things to her.. At a recent Lunch and Lectionary, Susan told a story that one year she visited a large church in Houston for Easter. She sat next to a friendly woman and her 6-year-old son. The boy had a remarkably good singing voice and sang each hymn with gusto, even if he didn’t exactly know all the words. When they sang “Up from the Grave He Arose,” instead of “with a mighty triumph o’er his foes,” when Jesus came up from the grave, he arose “with a lot of dirt between his toes.” And you know what, theologically, that is a much more sound teaching. Jesus’ life had much less to do with any kind of triumph, except for love, than walking alongside suffering humanity, in the dirt, muck, and mud of our lives. Indeed, Jesus would have had very dirty toes. And that’s true both in his life as well as in his resurrection. How do we know? The scars on his back and the nail wounds in his hands and feet were not healed during his time in the tomb. When he emerged, he still had the marks of violence against him. He even offered to show them to his skeptical disciples. But even though Jesus was still marked by the violence against him, violence did not have the final say. Violence did not and does not have the final say. There is life after crucifixion. And yet, given the amount of violence in our world today, that’s almost as hard to believe as “up from the grave he arose.” As the Apostle’s Creed says, Jesus was “crucified, dead, and buried.” We get that. Since last Easter, 550,000 people have died of Covid 19. And except for a nurse and Jesus in every room, most of them died alone. Each person had a name, starting with Stephen Schwartz in Seattle.[1] We are surrounded by Good Fridays. In 2020 alone, the crucifixions of George Floyd, Ahmaud Arbery, Rayshard Brooks, Daniel Prude, and Breonna Taylor and way too many more with names we’ve never heard. Boulder has now been added to the long list of cities known for their mass shootings, among their names Officer Eric Talley and Suzanne Fountain. Some Americans are only now coming to understand, or even believe, the centuries-long Good Fridays of violence against Asian Americans and Pacific Islanders. Among their names in Atlanta: Soon Chung Park, Hyun Jung Grant, Yong Ae Yue, and Suncha Kim. As the hashtag says, we #saytheirname because we see the power in the example of Jesus himself. When Jesus said “Mary,” when he said her name outside the tomb, she recognized him. And then, what did he say? Jesus told her, “Don’t hold me back.” From there, she began to spread the good news, that there is life after crucifixion. Yes, we know Good Friday all too well. Jesus was crucified, dead, and buried. That, we certainly understand. But, “on the third day he rose again?” Of that we may not be quite so certain and struggle to wrap around our brains. However, curiously, more people come to Easter morning worship than any other Sunday of the year. To hear a message about a concept many people find at best implausible. Or just impossible. What explains our desire to hear Christ is Risen on Easter year after year? I don’t think it’s just tradition. There’s something deeper inside that wants to hear those words and more, for example: Bryan Stevenson has spent his life working with men, women, and children on death row. Some were unjustly accused, aided by manufactured false witness. But some did their truly heinous crimes. And of them, Bryan says, “we are all more than the worst thing we’ve ever done.” If I’m being honest, that feels almost as implausible to say as Christ is Risen, but there is more to life than crucifixion. And there is life after crucifixion. I have a yellow sticky note on my desk with a quote. I heard it on a webinar and quickly jotted it down. “Your best hopes are as likely to come true as your worst fears.” Something about that statement in the context of our global pandemics of racism and the coronavirus struck a chord. Perhaps it too is implausible, but I really want to believe this: “Our best hopes really are just as likely to come true as our worst fears.” Or is that just wild-eyed optimism? Is that just the white male privilege of someone for whom things have generally worked out? I don’t want to just offer a bunch of quotes, but I do want to share one more by a Unitarian minister in the 1850s named Theodore Parker. Parker was an abolitionist dedicated to ending the enslavement of human beings and died just before the Civil War. He said, “I do not pretend to understand the moral universe; the arc is a long one, my eye reaches but little ways; I cannot calculate the curve and complete the figure by the experience of sight; [but] I can divine it by conscience. And from what I see I am sure it bends towards justice.” We know this quote more simply as the words of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.: “The arc of the moral universe bends long, but it bends toward justice.” Today is not only Easter but the anniversary of his assassination. April 4, 1968. Dr. King used this quote many times. It too is something I both believe and something I want to believe, but at times, am not so sure. “The arc of the moral universe bends long, but it bends toward justice.” Clearly Dr. King knew it is not inevitable and requires faith. He didn’t simply quote it as an optimist. He was in the midst of and scarred by a dirty, violent battle for the soul of America that still rages today. In that battle, he was always grounded and guided by his faith in the crucified risen Christ. As well, when he accepted the Nobel Peace Prize in 1964, King said, “I have an abiding faith in America and an audacious faith in the future of [human]mankind.” Such faith gives us courage. “When our days become dreary with low-hovering clouds and our nights become darker than a thousand midnights, we will know that we are living in the creative turmoil of a genuine civilization struggling to be born." The Dr. King scarred by violence was not naive. But somehow, he always believed in an America that was better than the one in which he lived – not because of inevitability, but because of faith. A real faith that knows real pain. Pain like Good Friday crucifixions and Holy Saturdays full of waiting:
But, remember, on the third day, Jesus told Mary, “Don’t hold me back.” Go and tell everyone that there is life after crucifixion. And so that’s why:
Then, unburdened by mere intellectual assent, we can put that truth into action, alongside the Jesus who when he came up from the grave, arose “with a lot of dirt between his toes.” In his life and in his resurrection, Jesus didn’t invite us to merely believe but he invited us to get dirty walking through the muck and mud of Good Friday crucifixions alongside suffering humanity. And wait with one another through Holy Saturdays of fear and anxiety. Only then, in life after crucifixion, is our belief transformed into rejoicing that Christ is Risen. Only then is Christ Risen Indeed! [1] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_deaths_due_to_COVID-19 Sermons from Park Hill Congregational UCC Denver, Colorado Rev. Dr. David Bahr [email protected] A Maundy Thursday Reflection April 1, 2021 “They Were Punched, Spat Upon, and Pummeled with Metal Pipes” Matthew 26: 26-28 – New Revised Standard Version "While they were eating, Jesus took bread, blessed it, broke it, and gave it to the disciples and said, “Take and eat. This is my body.” He took a cup, gave thanks, and gave it to them, saying, “Drink from this, all of you. This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of their sins. In the sequence of events, earlier in the week, two days before the Passover, Jesus told his disciples he would be handed over to be crucified. At the same time, the chief priests and elders of the people were gathered in the palace of the high priest, Caiaphas. They were conspiring to arrest Jesus in secret and kill him. But, not during the festival, or they will riot. Judas Iscariot, one of the 12, went to the chief priests and offered to betray Jesus. And they paid him 30 pieces of silver. On the first day of Unleavened Bread, arrangements were made for the meal. And while they were eating, Jesus told them that one of them would betray him. All of them, including Judas, said, “Not me, Lord. Surely, not I.” In Matthew 26:26-28 it says, "While they were eating, Jesus took bread, blessed it, broke it, and gave it to the disciples and said, “Take and eat. This is my body.” He took a cup, gave thanks, and gave it to them, saying, “Drink from this, all of you. This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of their sins. Afterward, he told his disciples that all of them would desert him that night, but Jesus promised he would never desert them. Peter said, I will never do that to you, but Jesus told him that by the end of the night, he would deny him three times. Jesus then went to the Garden of Gethsemane to pray, asking God to “let this cup pass from me, but not my will, but your will, be done.” Jesus asked the disciples to stay awake while he prayed, but instead the disciples kept falling asleep. After this happened a third time, Judas arrived with a large crowd carrying swords and clubs. The disciples deserted him and all fled. Peter watched from a distance. And denied knowing Jesus three times. From the Garden, Jesus was led away to the palace of the high priest. Many false witnesses came forward. Jesus refused to answer their charges. When the high priest said, “tell us if you are the Messiah,” Jesus replied, “You have said so.” The high priest tore his clothes and said, “He has blasphemed.” He asked the crowd, “What is your verdict?” They answered, “He deserves death.” Then they spat in his face and struck him; and some slapped him, saying, “Prophesy to us, you Messiah! Who is it that struck you?” They spat in his face and struck him. All of this before they took him to the Romans. And then back and forth he went. In recent weeks, Asian Americans riding subway cars in New York City have reported being punched, spat upon, and pummeled with metal pipes. I read that and my heart broke. The heart of Jesus broke. Why? Another ugly consequence of the former president’s racist terms about the coronavirus. But he had just tapped into centuries of anti-Asian bias. One of many forms of white supremacy. On Monday, a 65-year-old unidentified Asian woman walked along West 43rd Street in New York City, reportedly heading to church. An attacker yelled, “F--- you, you don’t belong here,” and began assaulting her. The man kicked her in the stomach, knocked her to the sidewalk, and then brutally stomped on her head again and again. Video shows a man in the lobby of a building watching the whole attack, staring out the glass doors as the woman was repeatedly kicked in the head, but he made no move to assist her. Not even by calling 911. Two other men, security guards, walked toward the entrance. To close the door on the victim. This week we are nervously watching the trial of George Floyd’s murderer. Bystanders did try to intervene, including the 17-year-old girl who recorded all 9 minutes and 20 seconds of the officer who knelt on Mr. Floyd's neck, longer than even necessary to completely choke all the life out of a breathing man. Our hearts break over and over about incidents like this. And the 8 victims in Atlanta. 10 victims in Boulder, including an officer who tried to protect others. And 4 more last night in California. Each time, entire communities victimized and devastated. And Jesus took bread, blessed it, broke it, and gave it to the disciples. He took a cup, gave thanks, and gave it to them. Why? It is in this way, he said, that you re-member me. You become my Body in the world. My hands to offer compassion. My feet to walk for justice. This is not an empty ritual. Each time we eat this bread and drink this cup, it is our call to action. So, let us eat and drink together, that we not stand by and watch, but actively stand alongside Jesus and suffering humanity. And so, as Jesus said, “take and eat. This is my body.” And he said, “Drink from this, all of you. |
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March 2024
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