Good morning everyone! It’s great to see you all here on the screen. Before I begin, I want to say a big thank you to you all for such a warm welcome, especially those of you who came to cheer us on at the ordination last weekend from the sidewalk.
It was such a delight to see so many of you in person, and Kaitlin and I both were really sad that our internet wasn’t yet working last week so we could thank you the following morning. But as they say, better late than never. So thank you.
Also, I just want to acknowledge that this is a really strange time to be joining this community and beginning ministry with you all. I’m so grateful that I had the opportunity to attend services with you pre-Covid, so I have a taste of all the things that make St. Gregory’s so unique. This is not really a time that I or we would have chosen to leave Connecticut without getting to say goodbye to a lot of people, or to arrive here and not truly to be able to say hello to you all in person.
But know that I, and I think I can speak for Kaitlin when I say that we, both are really excited to be connected to you all in the St. Gregory’s community, and can’t wait to figure out what that is going to look like in the coming months.
Alright, I think that’s it for now. Now onto the sermon part. Before I get to the text, I want to ask you all to reflect for a moment. I want to ask you to reflect, and remember back to when you first heard the phrase “Black Lives Matter.” How did it make you feel? Were you resistant to the idea, and if so, what did you say or think was wrong with it?
I imagine some of you were completely on board with it the moment you first heard it, and hearing it chanted in the streets must have felt like a breath of fresh air; others, I imagine, might still not feel comfortable with the phrase, even today. If that is the case, know that you’ll likely disagree with a lot of what I’m about to say, but know also that I want to hear from you, and would love to have a one on one conversation with you sometime. So just let me know.
As for me, when I first heard the phrase Black Lives Matter back in 2014 after the murder of Michael Brown, I’ll admit I wanted to respond with “All Lives Matter;” I wanted to critique the language, tactics, and means by which the protesters were communicating their goals, because I thought saying “Black Lives Matter” unnecessarily made white U.S.-Americans (by which I mean, me) uncomfortable. It wasn’t until a white friend of mine took the time to sit with me and talk me through why saying “black lives matter” was important that I began to warm up to it.
Whatever the case may be, however you and I each felt when we first heard this phrase, the fact is that our country has undergone a major shift in recent years, and especially in recent weeks. And as amazing as it is that U.S.-Americans have changed their mind so rapidly about an issue, it’s also kind of amazing that this particular message got so much criticism in the first place!
I mean, saying that so-and-so group of people’s lives matter would seem like a pretty low bar, would you think? But for whatever reason, when white America is confronted with the truth that black lives matter, it strikes a chord that resonates deeply and shocks our society to its core.
Jesus’ own ministry struck a note that similarly shook the foundation of 1st century Palestinian society. Just before today’s reading, in response to John the Baptist’s disciples who are asking whether Jesus is the Messiah, he responds: “Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them. And blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me.”
If in Luke chapter four we hear Jesus’ mission statement, when he says he was sent “to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, [and] to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor,” then this chapter in Matthew is where he provides John the Baptist with his first “annual report.”
In a society that dehumanized poor people, that said that Jewish lives didn’t matter, that forced people to put their allegiance to Caesar first before their God, Jesus’ movement of renewal and restoration of the Jewish people became a real threat to Roman-occupied Judea.
And it is in this moment in Matthew 11, after chapter nine where he engages in a bunch of healings, and chapter ten where he gives his disciples a whole number of teachings, that Jesus has begun showing his cards, and his ministry has gained enough notoriety to earn some pretty hefty criticism.
And so the people in the crowd begin to criticize Jesus for his table practices, and the people he hung out with. They say he’s a glutton and a drunkard, choosing to focus on the things they feel comfortable criticizing, rather than the parts that make them uncomfortable. As always, when a movement proclaims a truth so simple that no one can argue with it, yet so piercing that they all wish they could, people satisfy themselves with criticizing the means by which the message is conveyed, rather than the message itself.
And so it was when Black Lives Matter first became a topic of national conversation, as critics said they should be nonviolent and not block streets or highways. But when Colin Kaepernick came along and did exactly that, they told him that he was being disrespectful and called him some bad names.
And so it was when I first heard about Black Lives Matter in 2014, and I thought, on some level, that sure, I felt sad about the loss of Michael Brown’s life, and Eric Garner’s life, but I certainly spent more time in my head criticizing the message that Black Lives Matter than I did feeling outraged about the injustice.
And so it has been for the past few weeks, while people across the United States, mostly white people, have had conversations about how they now agree with Black Lives Matter, but they just wish the protesters would not cause looting and the destruction of property. Or that they agree with Black Lives Matter, but that calling for the police to be defunded is going too far. Or that they agree with Black Lives Matter, but that they don’t think protesters should chant or carry signs with vulgar slogans.
So Jesus responds to the crowd: “You say John had a demon because he fasted, and yet you claim that I’m a glutton and a drunkard because I do not!” “You say you’re interested in what I have to say, but you spend more time criticizing me for breaking customs than you do listening to what I am telling you!” “You say you agree with me, but you don’t think I should preach too openly where the Romans might hear, or that I shouldn’t be angry about the temple being turned into a den of robbers, or that I shouldn’t use strong language to condemn the injustice I see!”
Jesus was criticized for his means and tactics, because that was the best that his detractors could do to drown out his piercing message. In a society that cared very much about piety and ritual, calling Jesus and his followers out for their supposed drunkenness and gluttony were serious threats to his popular credibility; as much a threat as any of the ones I previously mentioned are to the Black Lives Matter movement today.
“Yet,” Jesus says, “Wisdom is vindicated by her deeds.” Wisdom is vindicated by her deeds. The point is not that we can’t exercise our critical minds; it’s just that it’s often far too easy to rest comfortable in the knowledge of having critiqued, and thereby dismissed, the thing that makes us uncomfortable. It’s often far more productive to examine ourselves and ask ourselves whether we truly are fully committed to a movement we like to say we support, than to think about how we think the movement could be made better.
We are in the last day of a holiday weekend; a holiday that means a lot more for white U.S.-Americans than it does for those who are Black or Latinx. Many of us have been gathered with family, not watching fireworks but hopefully staying socially distanced to whatever degree possible. I wonder what sort of conversations we’ve been having? Whether those things we talked about have helped commit ourselves more fully to the cause of justice, or rather allowing ourselves to rest easy by criticizing and then dismissing that which challenges us?
I know I’ve failed, even this weekend, to speak when I should’ve maybe changed the course of conversation, or to examine myself and the ways that I end up acting more like the crowd than one of Jesus’ disciples. Indeed, it’s often very attractive to imagine ourselves as among Jesus’ inner circle of disciples. And while many of us would identify as such today, in all likelihood, if we were to find ourselves placed into the scene in today’s reading, most of us would not be among his disciples, but rather in the crowd; the crowd, to whom Jesus has to justify himself and defend against these criticisms about his means and tactics.
I say this, not because I have any special insight into who we are or who the crowd was, but simply because that’s where most people were; in the crowd that was interested in what he was saying, maybe even captivated by it, but too scared to take the plunge and commit oneself fully, or too uncomfortable about what Jesus was saying, and so instead chose to make themselves comfortable again by finding something in his message to criticize.
The crowd is where most of the people were during the Ferguson uprising. I know that’s where I was. But in the years between 2014 and now, people in the crowd had conversations that helped those who had heard about Black Lives Matter to listen more deeply to the message that Black Lives do Matter, and be ready to commit themselves to it when the spark of George Floyd’s death occurred.
The crowd is where most of the people were in today’s reading from Matthew. I know that’s where I would have been. But in the years between today’s scene and the morning of Pentecost, people in the crowd had conversations that helped those who had heard about Jesus to listen more deeply to his message and be ready to commit themselves to it when the spark of the Apostles’ preaching on Pentecost morning occurred.
The conversations that go on behind the scenes, in the crowd, are powerful. And it’s these conversations that I imagine so many of us have been having this holiday weekend, with friends, family, and loved ones. Have the conversations we’ve been having helped us be ready to commit ourselves to a movement for justice, or have they helped us criticize and thereby dismiss the things that make us uncomfortable?
Friends, I am very hopeful. I’m hopeful not just because of what I’m seeing transpire around the United States, but also because I believe in a God who is with us and works with us for the good of all. And even with that hope, I know that there remains a lot of work to be done. A lot of conversations to be had. A lot of changes to be made.
As people who attempt to follow Jesus, let us endeavor not to make the same mistakes that we see the crowd making in today’s passage. Let us find the strength, and the heart, and the resolve, to face the uncomfortable, to listen deeply to those proclaiming hard truths, and to use our conversations not to detract, but rather to help one another commit ourselves more fully to the cause of justice.
Amen.
Peter Levenstrong 