Comments for Jim Other sermons.           

The 23^rd Psalm is among the best known and loved our scriptures. Its images of green pastures and still waters evoke feelings of peace, comfort, and well-being. All will be well because we are in the hands of caring shepherd. But there are disturbing images in the 23^rd Psalm as well, such as the Valley of the Shadow of Death. And though the message is that God’s comfort can be trusted, the setting is one of danger.

I think it could be argued that the context of much of the Bible, not only this Psalm, is that you and I are in a dangerous situation. We are surrounded by enemies that we perceive as a great threat. Jesus’ teachings start with the assumption that you and I have enemies. How we deal with that reality is at the center of our faith. Jesus said simply, "Love your enemies." What is an enemy? I would say that an enemy is someone whom you correctly perceive to be a threat; or someone whom you mistakenly perceive to be a threat; or someone who correctly perceives you to be a threat; or someone who mistakenly perceives you to be a threat. Those are very different realities, but the presenting situation is basically the same. Me here; enemy there. Me here, wanting to live in peace and security; enemy there, threatening my peace and security.

Biologists and social scientists explain to us that there are basically two reactions to this situation: fight or flight. Either take on the enemy or run for your life. It seems to me that much of religion today opts for one or the other. Either take on the religious enemy by declaring him a heretic and trying in one way or another to wipe him out; or retreat into your own safe and secure community of like-minded individuals, and be willing to defend that community with all your resources. There was an interesting series of articles in the Washington Post last week about how we are becoming two separate and parallel Americas, each devoted to preserving and defending its world-view and demanding conformity of life-style. As a dweller of so-called blue America, I would have to say that I resist the values and life-style of red America – Evangelical Christianity, political conservatism, racial and cultural homogeneity. To be honest, those folks in Sugarland, Texas, seem far removed from my cherished notions of how things ought to be. They get my blood boiling. I’m not at all proud of those feelings, but there they are. These two Americas are, it seems to me, in a fight or flight relationship.

But the biblical message is that there is another way. Neither fight nor flight are ultimate answers, but only serve to perpetuate hostility. Look at what happens in Psalm 23. The most powerful words to me in the Psalm are: "You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies." We regularly overlook what a truly radical statement this is. The Psalmist is saying – "Don’t run away. Don’t fight. Simply be open to God’s grace in the midst of danger." Paul said, "Be transformed by the renewal of your minds." At one level this is a deeply spiritual response. But it is not saying "Just let Jesus into your heart and everything will be fine." That is inane. What God wants is your transformation, the transformation of your enemy, and the transformation of the relationship. And in an amazing way, your discovering a table before you in the presence of your enemies, is an invitation not only to you, but to them to join you at the that table. We are called to open our eyes to the truth that God has set before us all we need – and that goes for the enemy, too. All of us.

I personally believe that racism in America is a lingering and really diabolical problem. It has been correctly pointed out that Sunday morning remains the most segregated time of the week. Why is that? Our relationship with God and our love for one another are among our most tender experiences. And so in order to protect that, we create a sense of community based on exclusion and defense, not inclusion and risk. We opt for the false sense of security that comes from sticking close with people we know, love, and agree with. But when we do that, we lift God’s words of comfort out of their real world context of anxiety and fear of people who are different from us. But the words of the Psalmist and of Jesus say that the only comfort that matters is the grace of God that gives us the courage to face our fears, not run from them. It takes no courage whatever to simply reinforce one another in what we already believe. Didn’t Jesus say, don’t congratulate yourself if you love those who love you. Anybody can do that. Try loving those you simply don’t like or understand.

I am proud of the history of this congregation. We will be celebrating our sixtieth anniversary next December. And in those sixty years I think there has been steady progress in so many areas of inclusion: notably the status of women in the life of the church, and the inclusion of gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender Christians; the inclusion of children. That’s progress. We have truly been blessed over the years by our African-American members – Bill and Anne Gordon are just two of many wonderful examples. In the sixties the numbers of people of color here grew. But we’ve slipped. As I look out on you this morning, I’m sad to say that there are fewer black faces now than when I arrived here twenty years ago. We can explore the reasons for this, of which there may be many, but there really are no excuses. To say that we have grown more racist may seem harsh. But the reality of what I see disturbs me. Can we look at this together? Can we pray about it? Can we discern tangible things we can do about it?

We are invited to a very special table this morning. The invitation is not to comfort and escape; but, as our United Church of Christ Statement of Faith says, "courage in the struggle for justice and peace." AMEN.

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