I want to share something that inspired me deeply. I got a message the other day from Normal, Illinois, saying that a Presbyterian minister had told the story of mercy from The True American in his Sunday sermon. I couldnt believe that a Christian pastor had told a Muslims story in church until I saw it for myself. Now I can tell you that its real. It blew me away. It embodies the hope I have for sparking a larger conversation, from coast to coast, and in Normal, Illinois, too, about the power of mercy and the meaning of being an American. See the sermons text below. ------ “If You Don’t Know Me by Now” Acts 7:55-60; John 14:1-14 May 18, 2014 By Larry Gaylord First Presbyterian Church 2000 E. College Avenue, Normal, Illinois firstpresnormal.org While I was in Scotland for a year of seminary study, my home church in Manasquan, NJ, sent money so I could travel in Europe before returning to the U.S. I chose the nation of Poland, which was very inexpensive at the time. One day I went to a restaurant outside a factory. “Breakfast” for those workers consisted of pork chops, mashed potatoes, sauerkraut and other dinner-like items. I ordered Polish sausage. It was really good, except that on the train about 2 hours later, it hit me: horrible food poisoning. A woman on the train noticed my increasing distress. When we arrived in Warsaw, she realized I was in serious trouble. She invited me to her apartment in the city, and for the next two days she nursed me back to health. She began to tell me what she had gone through during World War II, including the loss of her son and her husband. Her suffering had made her more compassionate toward others. Although I was a complete stranger, her radical hospitality was an expression of her faith. Jesus, born in a manger because there was no room for his family elsewhere, wants to reassure the disciples: Don’t worry, there’s room for you. I’ll have a place ready for you when you get there. In my Father’s house, there’s a lot of space. One space has your name on it. Jesus is engaged in radical hospitality. This is just a guess: probably not many of us have fretted over how much living area there will be in eternity. Square footage just isn’t an issue for us. Behind Jesus’ comforting words, we might detect a different anxiety--one that still afflicts us: “Where do I stand with God? Is there a place for me? Do I have a home in the Divine heart?” Jesus is the YES to these very human ponderings. Sadly, a passage intended to embrace and reassure has often been the centerpiece of debates about who doesn’t get in. It’s sometimes used to exclude, although it’s clearly intended to welcome. In scripture, we read that Christ is a good and gracious host. At the Last Supper, he himself made sure all the details were taken care of. After the resurrection, the Risen Christ cooked a meal for his hungry friends! “Breakfast is served.” We might think this is a nice touch, like the mint on your hotel pillow. But it’s more than that. Hospitality is central to God’s work on earth. We are called to care for those who feel that they don’t belong—and for those who are literally driven from their homes, such as in Syria, or Nigeria, or South Sudan, and people who are not welcome in the neighborhoods of America, and people forced to leave beloved lands due to drought or rising seas. We are called to reflect the welcome that God has shown to us. The apostle Philip had an unusual request: “Show us the Father, and we’ll be satisfied.” He is voicing the deepest religious longing of humanity. Moses wanted to see God’s glory. St. Stephen had the divine vision as he died. George Harrison of the Beatles chanted “My sweet Lord…I really want to see you, Lord.” Elsewhere the Johannine corpus declares, “No one has ever seen God. But in Jesus, we have beheld God’s glory.” Philip is asking a lot. Does he even realize what he’s asking? Maybe he does. If we could just have a glimpse of God, that would carry us through for the rest of our days. That unforgettable moment of majesty would eliminate every shadow of doubt. We wouldn’t have to believe, because we would know! What we wouldn’t give for just a nanosecond of that awesome sight. “Show us the Father, and we’ll be satisfied.” Yet, such is not the way of Jesus. We dwell, perhaps more often than not, in what a 13th century seeker called, The Cloud of Unknowing. Our strongest times of growth occur not when the sailing is smooth, but in the stormy nights and uncharted seas. Jesus said, “You’ve known me all this time, and you still don’t understand? If you’ve seen me, you’ve already seen the Father. You don’t need to see anything else.” Philip was hoping for…what? He sought an unearthly Being, of inexpressible power and blinding light. He wanted a mountaintop experience on steroids. “Now I’ve had a glimpse of God, and nothing will ever be the same.” Jesus said, “Look at me, in my humility, my simplicity, my humanity. My way is the way of persistence, and work, sometimes drudgery, small victories and little miracles. It’s not spectacular, but it is the way to life in God. It matters not what religion you go by: if you follow this path of peace and service, you follow me; and if you follow me, you’ve experienced God, and God’s remarkable welcome. Rais Bhuiyan was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He was working in a convenience store in Dallas on Sept 21, 2001. A man named Mark Stroman was on a shooting spree: he had sworn vengeance against all “Arabs”, as he called them, for the 9/11 attacks. He shot Rais, a Muslim and a Bangladeshi-American, severely injuring his eyes. Rais lived, but two other victims died. Rais’s response was unexpected, to say the least. He vowed to God that if he survived, he would do right and share forgiveness. As though following Jesus’ way of love for enemies, Rais campaigned to save his attacker from the death penalty. In this, Rais failed. But his example of true forgiveness did not fail. Hours before Stroman was executed, the two spoke with each other by phone. Rais said, “I forgive and I do not hate you.” Stroman responded as he awaited the executioner, “Thank you for what you’ve done. You touched my heart. I would never have expected this.” And Rais said, “You touched my heart, too.” * Maybe Rais was not in the wrong place on Sept. 21. In the journey of faith, maybe he was where he was needed, where he was meant to be. His model of extraordinary love reflects the Way we, too, are called to follow. “Beloved, let us welcome one another, as Christ has welcomed us.” * The telling of this story was inspired by an interview with Anand Giridharadas conducted by Tom Ashbrook, during Tom’s NPR program On Point, May 14, 2014. --- firstpresnormal.org First Presbyterian Church of Normal IL
Posted on: Thu, 22 May 2014 12:25:24 +0000
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