Rector's Sermon
26 June 2011

First Reading	Psalm	Epistle	Gospel
Jeremiah 28:5–9	Psalm 98:1–4, 15–18	Romans 6:12–23	Matthew 10:40–42

       In the great struggles of human existence, the challenges of recognizing what the battles really involve and understanding whose side we are on permeate the whole Biblical saga.  The tremendous power of demons comes from their successful attempt to prevent us from focusing or discerning what the true fight involves, who the enemy of peace and reconciliation really is, and obscures the reality that demons always wish to frustrate resolution.  For example, the real battle with Adam and Eve wasn’t between humanity and the snake, it was humanity fighting within itself whether to trust the Word of God.

       The writer Elie Wiesel notes that in the great struggle of Jacob at the ford by the river at Peniel, the Bible is deliberately ambiguous about with whom Jacob actually struggled. However, in the struggle Jacob comes to realize it was no ordinary adversary or river demon unrelated to either his past or future. Did Jacob think he was wrestling with his conscience, or the old Jacob the cheat with the new Jacob, a leader of a great nation? We don’t know when, but at some point in the struggle, Jacob began to recognize God was involved and the struggle was about both his past and the promise of his future.  Then Jacob began to prevail, and as dawn began to break, the mysterious adversary withdrew and the struggle ceased. In some sense, the old Jacob didn’t survive. Jacob was changed into a new person, albeit with a limp always reminding him of who he had been. Wiesel suggests that the struggle of Jacob teaches us that many of the most important struggles in life are not in contention with an external enemy, but are struggles where we must prevail and triumph over ourselves.¹

       The Gospel passage today is part of Jesus’ instructions on what discipleship entailed. This is where Jesus said, “If anyone wishes to be my disciple, one must take up the cross and follow me and if you love your family more than me, you cannot be my disciple.” Such sayings do not lend themselves to warm, fuzzy, comforting preaching.  Jesus’ followers were to practice a radically new type of hospitality. They were called upon to welcome all classes and conditions of followers. Some would be recognized missionaries; some would be known as leaders of neighboring churches; and some would be termed “little ones”, the Gospel’s expression not for children, but ordinary, often poor followers of Jesus who had no credentials or honors besides that they too had decided to follow Jesus. Jesus’ instructions would certainly cause some controversy, as Jesus expected his followers to offer hospitality far beyond the expected bounds of village, family, class or even culture itself.

       I suggest it was when they were able to understand that Jesus insisted they confront their fear of strangers that they began to discover the courage to open their hearts and homes to others. In sharing food they found that they all had so much in common, having very similar concerns, hopes, and aspirations. Strangers were no longer seen as dangerous freaks, but as neighbors. The struggle was about the transformation of their past and its incorporation into their future. God was calling them onward, just as God once called forth the tribes of Israel out of bondage in Egypt, into a new society where people would no longer be divided into slaves and masters.   It was about God leading them to build a life on a higher plane. In Egypt, both slave and master were trapped in an old, and exploitive way of life. God called Israel to envision a new earth and form a society that would liberate all.

       In our many struggles of today, I wonder if our battles are not about intractable differences with others or polar opposites that demand we chose one and refute the other.  Rather, do we have the courage to go beyond adversarial relationships and seek a greater truth? Somehow the old Jacob met the future Jacob, and in recognizing the legitimate existence of each other, a new Jacob was born. Can we let both the old person in us and the new person in us waiting to be born meet and converse together? Maybe in the coming together, we will see some light of dawn and the possibility of resolution when we are able to understand or define what is going on at the deepest level within ourselves.  How might God be calling us to build rather than joining in the demons song to wage war? I wonder if the larger disputes of how are we to take care of the aged, how are we to provide healthcare, how are we to practice responsible and foresighted conservation of this earth for us and the generations to follow, are not necessarily between us and forces totally unrelated to or so different from us. Maybe as people of faith we are called to redefine the struggle and perhaps God is calling us to see the world around us by the light of a new dawn, and to live life on a new level. Maybe, just maybe, what happened at the state capital on Friday night is a small sign in this direction. By now controversies over human sexuality seem to have gone on interminably and I don’t see them ending soon. Yet many have discovered over the years that people whose sexual orientation is different from theirs are not freaks or more dangerous or more unstable or less moral. Maybe we, like the old Jacob, will always be haunted until we face and confront ourselves.

      ¹ Cf. Wiesel, Elie, Messengers of God, p.103ff.

       And I offer this to you in the name of the Living God, Amen.