Pentecost 18, Proper 21B
Mark 9:38-50
Mark 9:38-50
In the name of God: One,
Holy, and Living. Amen.
It’s been fascinating to
me to discover just how many of my sermons have a beginning – whether spoken or
unspoken – that is somehow related to social networking tools: Facebook or
Twitter.
This sermon began as a
“status update” that I began seeing on a few friends’ Facebook pages.
My status update this
time of year often is something like: “Yay! Finally found the LSU Tigers on
TV! It’s sometimes tough to be in
exile!” It was a way for me to claim my
heritage in a strange land, and a way to reach out to my people back home over
a shared experience. So a status update
can really be anything.
Lately, I’ve been seeing
a debate emerging on a few of my friends’ status updates. It’s an update of the “conversation starter”
variety. It says, simply,
“Indiscriminate inclusivity or Discriminating exclusivity, which do you
prefer?”
Think about it. If you only had the two choices, which would
be more desirable? Would you want to be
inclusive if it meant that you had to include absolutely everybody? Might
it be easier if you could pick and choose just a little?!
We certainly tend to
value our inclusiveness. In the
Episcopal Church in particular, we are generally proud of the fact that we
welcome everyone. Our signs say, “The
Episcopal Church welcomes you!” If you
go to our parish website, one of the first things you will see is a
welcome. You don’t even have to click
anywhere. It’s right there on the front
page, saying, “Whoever you are, and wherever you are on the journey of faith,
you are welcome at Good Shepherd.”
That’s a quote. We’re trying to say that we really mean it!
But it’s not just a
Christian value – this valuing of inclusiveness. We, as a nation, declare ourselves to be
inclusive. We’re proud of our
inclusiveness. In her poem, “The New
Colossus”, Emma Lazarus describes the Statue of Liberty – that most powerful
symbol of welcome – as the “Mother of Exiles”.
On the statue’s tablet, Lazarus’ words are inscribed: “Give me your tired,
your poor, /Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, /The wretched refuse
of your teeming shore. /Send these, the
homeless, tempest-tost to me,…”.
They were Lazarus’
words. They became the words of that
“Mother of Exiles”. And each of us, in
our schools or in our families, was taught to make them our own. We were taught to take pride in the fact that
we are a part of a country such as that – a land where all are welcome.
So the Facebook debate
seems pretty simple, right?
“Indiscriminate inclusivity or Discriminating exclusivity?” We’re Christian. We’re American. We value inclusiveness, so we should be
inclusive. Moreover, we should demand it
of others. It’s that simple.
The problem is, it’s not
that simple.
As Americans, we’re not exactly
as inclusive as Emma Lazarus had dreamed we might be. A wall is being built along our border with
Mexico, because we seem to think we have enough of them. And though the policy recently changed,
people who are HIV-positive have been, for years, denied the possibility of
immigrating to, or even traveling to, the United States. We’re afraid that they might create a health
crisis! (As if we didn’t already have
one.) Even students from other countries
who hope to come to the United States to further their educations must
demonstrate financial sustainability by proving that they hold very large sums
of money. We certainly wouldn’t want
poor people getting stuck here. They
might be a burden to us.
“Give me your tired, your
poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free”? Well…
Sure. So long as they’re not
tired, nor poor, nor parts of huddled masses.
We don’t want them!
Wherever there is a “we”
or a “them” the ideal of inclusiveness hasn’t been reached.
Christians also have a
long history of struggling to adhere to our value of inclusiveness.
One of the much talked
about scandals of the Lambeth Conference in 2008, when I was there, was in the
opening worship service in Canterbury Cathedral. Many people were offended that the Bishops of
the church were asked to sing that great hymn, “All Are Welcome”. The scandal there was two-fold. First, it was a ticketed Eucharist. Only those closest to the center of the
Conference activities were allowed to attend.
Those of us “on the fringes” of the event were politely uninvited. We most certainly were not welcome – despite
whatever hymns might have been sung.
But, perhaps more seriously, was the fact that Bishop Gene Robinson, the
Bishop of New Hampshire, had been politely uninvited from the Conference
altogether. The pain of his exclusion
was still raw for many of our Bishops, and fortunately, the irony of them being
asked to sing that song at that time and place was not lost. The church could not sing of its
inclusiveness in the midst of an act of exclusion without someone noticing.
In the Gospel lesson that
we’ve heard this morning, we hear this same Facebook debate roiling among the
disciples and Jesus – are we to be indiscriminately inclusive, or
discriminating and exclusive? Like a
7-10 split, Jesus instructs us to aim for both of these contrasting
ideals. He calls us to be discriminating
and inclusive.
With regard to those
outside the fold, the exchange is telling: “John said to Jesus, ‘Teacher, we
saw someone casting out demons in your name, and we tried to stop him, because
he was not following us.’ But Jesus
said, ‘Don’t stop him; for no one who does a deed of power in my name will be able
soon afterward to speak evil of me.
Whoever is not against us is for us.”
So long as they’re not
causing us harm, they are welcome. Even
if they’re not following us, they’re helping us in their own way. We don’t need a monopoly. “All are welcome!”
The real discriminating,
however, should happen within ourselves.
Jesus instructs us to be always mindful of the ways that our own deeds can be a hindrance to the work
of God. Though we are on the inside, it
would be easy for us to cause either ourselves or others fall away from the
fold.
It’s
counterintuitive. Everything in the
world tells us to “look out for number one”.
We want to find ways to get ourselves
included, but we are naturally given to being discriminating about who we’ll let in – either into ourselves and
our lives, or into our circles of influence.
Jesus turns all of that on its head.
The disciples were
worried that their power would be diminished if it were indiscriminately
shared. But Jesus knew the paradox – in
sharing himself and his power, it could only grow. And so the same was true for the disciples
just as it is true for each of us. When
we share ourselves and our power and our influence, we don’t run out - we grow.
I’m reminded of one of my
favorite quotes: Mother Theresa once said, “I have uncovered the paradox that
if I love until it hurts, then there is no hurt – only more love.”
That’s the message of the
Gospel. That’s the answer to the
Facebook debate. That’s the
discriminating inclusivity to which Christ calls us. Because it’s precisely in that openness to
others that we find the living Christ.
Amen.
*reworked from a previous version posted HERE
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