Imagine a World with more Hope (Hebrews 10)

 This week, an article in Sojourners magazine by JR Forasteros discussed how multiverse stories are becoming more and more popular. The multiverse is the scientific theory that anytime we are faced with a choice, two universes are created, one where each choice manifests. So, for example, thirty years ago I was sitting on the patio at Loch Leven and made the decision to go into ministry; but right now, there is an alternative universe, in which I’m living a very different life because I didn’t make that decision. 

Or so the theory goes.

The Sojourners article suggests that multiverse stories are popular right now because things are so bad, what with the pandemic, and the refugee crisis, and a culture war centered on how we teach about racism in school, and the Supreme Court set to overturn Roe v. Wade, and so many Christians who should be practicing love choosing instead to support policies and positions that harm those Jesus calls our neighbors. 

It all makes the idea of an alternative universe, where things are different, tempting. We’re not happy with the way this universe is going, the way things are unraveling. This is a dark timeline, perhaps the darkest timeline. But wouldn’t it be cool if there was an alternative universe to which we can escape?

As the article says, “it’s tempting to pine for somewhere else, to relitigate old arguments, to remake old choices. To disconnect from the pain of our reality and get lost in the fantasy of better universes. One where the poor, the meek, and the peacemakers are blessed.”

Throughout history, many Christians have read the scriptures, looking for that alternative universe, and finding it in biblical descriptions of heaven. In heaven, everything is wonderful and perfect and eternal, in contrast to this present world which is fleeting, temporary, and so very flawed. 

And in many churches, the sermons you’ll hear are all about placing your hope in heaven, in the life to come. It’s “heaven” as an alternative universe, where none of our current struggles exist.

However, that’s not the type of heaven you find in scripture. 

In the Hebrew Bible (what we call the Old Testament), the prophets often described their vision of a different world, which was really God’s vision of a different world; but it wasn’t so much an “alternative universe” type of world; it was a vision of how this present world could be and can be once people start living according to God’s teachings.

It’s a world where justice flows down like waters, and righteousness like an everflowing stream.

It’s a world where people can sit in the fields they planted, and enjoy the literal fruits of their own labor.

It’s a world in which widows and orphans and the poor are taken care of.

It’s a world in which weapons of war are melted down and turned into tools of agriculture.

It’s not an otherworldly hope, but a this-worldly hope. It’s not an alternative universe; it’s how this present universe can and should be.

Jesus continues and expands on that vision. The gospels talk about the kingdom of God, or the kingdom of heaven, but even here, it is a kingdom that is very much centered in this world.

For his followers, they expected a new, reigning king to take over from Herod and Caesar as their ruler, to rule with justice and uphold God’s ways. That didn’t exactly happen, but Jesus did tell his followers that the kingdom he talked about was present among them. The kingdom was present in their very midst.

Now, there is an after-life aspect, an eternal aspect, to this kingdom. But most of the time, when this kingdom is mentioned, it’s in reference to a reality that is possible and is, in very real ways, present - not in some alternative universe, but in this universe that we know and are a part of.

Which means that true Christian hope isn’t focused exclusively or even primarily on some afterlife, some alternative form of existence, but on this present life and this present universe.

And this, in turn, means that any hope we have must be grounded in reality. Hope is not wishful thinking. Hope is not dreaming of a fairy godmother, or an against-all-odds lottery jackpot. And hope does not ignore the troubles and injustices and sorrow and suffering that exist.

Hope acknowledges that not everything is as it should be. Hope knows that we live in a world where too many go to bed hungry at night; too many live in poverty; too many lack health care; too many cannot find employment that pays a living wage.

Hope knows that racism has shaped our country’s history, and that white supremacy continues to shape our country today. Hope is painfully aware of every act of violence and every mass shooting. 

As I said a few weeks ago, hope often begins with lament. Often, hope must begin with lament. Remember that quote from Cole Arthur Riley: “Our hope can only be as deep as our lament is. And our lament [can only be] as deep as our hope.”

Our scripture reading for today, from Hebrews 10: it doesn’t appear in the lectionary for today. I’m using the scriptures and themes suggested for the “Imagine” sermon series, instead of the lectionary readings.

But this reading from Hebrews 10 does appear in the lectionary on Good Friday.

On Good Friday.

Because “our hope can only be as deep as our lament is. And our lament [can only be] as deep as our hope.”

Our Christian hope doesn’t begin in some alternative universe. Hope begins here, in the midst of tragedy and despair. Hope begins at Good Friday. Hope begins in the tears shed over all the injustices and oppression and violence of our world.

Hope cries with us. But then, Hope says to us, “it doesn’t have to be like this.”

This week, I attended the Festival of Homiletics, an annual conference for pastors and preachers. This was the first time since 2019 that people could attend the Festival in-person, but they have kept the online, livestream format as well, so I spent several days at my uncle’s wifi-equipped cabin near Lake Arrowhead listening to lectures and sermons.

One of the speakers and preachers was Otis Moss III.

At the Festival of Homiletics, Otis Moss told a story about when he first started as pastor of Trinity United Church of Christ in Chicago. A member of that congregation named Barack Obama was running for president, and because of the ugliness of this present world, Otis Moss started receiving death threats, both at home and at church. 

Otis Moss said that he was living in fear. He slept with a baseball bat beside his bed. 

Sure enough, one night, at about three o-clock in the morning, he heard a noise. He grabbed his baseball bat, started walking through the dark house. He determined that the noise was coming from his daughter’s bedroom. He went up to her room, opened the door… and saw his little daughter dancing in circles. “Daddy, I'm dancing!” she said. 

He said to her: “It’s 3 a.m., go to…” but he didn’t finish that sentence. 

He said: in that moment, he realized that there was darkness all around, ugliness all around - but, he said, it was not in her.

That’s when he realized that hope learns to dance in the dark. Hope doesn’t long for an alternative universe where there is no darkness; hope learns to dance in the dark. 

So that’s what we’re doing. Together, we’re learning to dance in the dark. 

And one way we do that is by gathering together for worship. Hebrews says “do not neglect to gather together.” We gather together, because we need each other, to dance together, to sing together, even in the midst of the world’s ugliness and darkness. 

And together, we mourn and lament that this world is a long way from where it should be; but we also celebrate the ways in which love and beauty are present in the world, right now… And we celebrate that, every day, WE have the opportunity to bring a little more love and beauty into the world, by loving our neighbor just a little more or a little better than we did yesterday, and working to bring just a little more justice into the world. 

We do this on our own, and we do it together. As a congregation. 

And our congregation joins with other congregations, here in Long Beach, and with Disciples congregations scattered throughout the United States and Canada. Through Week of Compassion and Global Ministries and so many other ministries that we are a part of, we bring beauty and love to some of the darkest places in the world. We bring hope to what would otherwise be hopeless places, letting people know that this darkness isn’t how things are supposed to be, and that we CAN make this world better, if we all work together.

At Festival of Homiletics: a lot of the speakers talked about the problems and challenges of the world. The brokenness. The sin. The lack of love for our neighbors. The shooting in Buffalo from the week before was mentioned by many of the speakers. 

And there was lament.

But the speakers also talked about how God has placed the Spirit within us; how God has placed hope within us; and how we - each one of us - can bring healing and wholeness to the world. 

Maybe not the whole world - not by ourselves. But to our own little corner of the world. 

And if we all do that, then the whole world will be changed.

Because together, we are a movement for wholeness in this fragmented world; and together, we are able to imagine a world - this world - with more hope.

Encouraged (Hebrews 10:19-25)

This Friday, I have a unique opportunity.  Over a hundred – and maybe close to 200 – boy scouts and other young people will take part in what is called a “Ten Commandments Hike,” in which they walk to various places of worship and hear from leaders in a variety of faiths speak briefly on their religion and how one of the particular commandments is taught in their own tradition.  One of their stops will be here at Bixby Knolls Christian Church, and I have been asked to be one of the speakers.

I have five minutes to tell them briefly about our church, and five minutes to talk to them about one of the commandments.  The commandment which I have been assigned is “Do not murder.”

Now, fortunately, this is a commandment that shouldn’t be too difficult to explain.  Right?  “Do not murder.”  I don’t think explaining this is really going to be much of a challenge.  Now, if I had been assigned, “Do not commit adultery,” explaining that to a group that includes children as young as seven – and maybe even younger – that would have required a little work. 

But “Do not murder?”  Piece of cake.  And unlike “Do not lie,” or “honor your parents,” it’s a command that few have ever broken. 

It gets even better. As if my task wasn’t easy enough, I have discovered that Jesus gave his own five-minute explanation of this commandment in his Sermon on the Mount.  All I have to do is open up to Matthew 5, and read Jesus’ comments, and be praised for my excellent mini-sermon on “Do not murder.”  This thing is going to preach itself!

At least, that’s what I thought.  Upon closer look, I realize Jesus’ five minute sermon on “Do not murder” shows that following this command is actually a lot more challenging than it seems.

Let me share with you Jesus’s comments:

“You have heard it said, ‘you shall not murder…’ But I say to you that if you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to judgment; and if you say, ‘you idiot!’ to a brother or sister, you will be liable to the council; and if you say ‘You fool!’ you will be liable to the hell of fire.  Do not even think of coming to worship if you have offended someone in this way!  Be reconciled with your brother or sister, and then, come to worship.”

Wow.  According to Jesus, saying a harsh word to someone, calling them an “idiot,” is just as bad as killing someone.

And what kid (or adult) hasn’t said to a brother or sister, “You idiot!”  Who among us here has never expressed our anger towards another, or insulted another person?

 So maybe the command “Do not murder” is more challenging than I thought.

And when the book of Hebrews – which is our scripture reading for today – instructs us to motivate one another to love and good deeds, and to encourage one another, it’s probably an instruction worth paying attention to.  Because, apparently, speaking words of encouragement and kindness is something that was extremely important to Jesus.  In fact, it was an essential part of his teaching, and one of the core expectations he placed on those who would follow him.

Here’s another example:

In the 12^th chapter of Matthew, we read that Jesus was healing the sick, ministering to and welcoming the unclean, those who had heard far too many discouraging words.  Jesus’ heart was with them, because of the rude insults and extreme lack of hospitality they had experienced.

These were the people who had been told, over and over, that they didn’t belong in society.  These were the people who had been told to stay out of sight, lest they contaminate the sacred gatherings of the “respectable people.”  These were the people who had been told, at the very least, to keep a low profile and not draw any attention, because no one wanted to see them or even know they existed.

Basically, they were the people that the respectable crowd just wished would disappear from society.  Then, and now, there are many people who fit that category.  For some people, it’s immigrants and racial minorities.  For some, it’s the poor and the homeless.  And for some, it’s people who are gay.  They think, “If only those people would just disappear.”

Imagine yourself, in one of those categories, listening constantly to the discouraging messages that society sends your way.  Messages like:

“You don’t belong here.”

“Your presence is not welcome here.”

“You are not a part of God’s will.”

It breaks my heart to know that anyone would ever hear a message like this directed at them.  I’ve seen the affects these words have on people.  They are destructive, soul-destroying, life-destroying words.  And thus, Jesus equates them to murder. 

Have you ever met someone who has lived their life hearing words like these thrust at them, over and over?  Have you ever heard someone tell you that it was their sincere belief that God could never love them, because that’s what they’d been told, over and over? 

I have.  I have listened to them tell me that no person or God could ever love them, that they were beyond the bounds of both human and divine love.

What an awful thing to believe about yourself.

I have also attended worship services of remembrance, in which the names of people who died through violence because of their sexual orientation are presented.  Some died through the violence of others who killed them because they believed they were not worthy of living.  Some died through their own hands, having heard too many times that their life had no value.

That’s what unkind words can do.  That’s the power they have.  We say, “sticks and stones will break my bones, but words will never hurt me.”  But as Bible scholar John Dominic Crossan points out, words “often escalate through sticks and stones to ovens and crematoria.  Once ideology and rhetoric have dehumanized opponents, power will often consider it a duty – even a divine duty – to eliminate them.”

Fortunately, words of encouragement can be just as powerful.  It’s so important to reassure people of God’s love, of God’s love for them, because so many have been told that God does not love them.  It’s what Jesus did, and it’s what he calls us to do. 

I have done that.  I have held the hand of someone who didn’t think they could be loved, and I told them that I did love them, and that I knew beyond a doubt that God did too.

Upon hearing my words, they broke down in tears. 

Because no one who had really known them had ever said those words to them, had never before encouraged or affirmed them in that way.  All they had ever heard were words of discouragement and insult. 

The world can be a cruel place.  The world may tell you that you don’t belong here.  The world may tell you that you are not welcome.  The world may push you into the shadows, out of sight, hidden away.

That was the upper-class temple then, and it is, in many cases, the church today.

The “respectable people” saw Jesus healing a demoniac.  They saw him with a physically-deformed person. They saw him mingling with women and children. They saw him embracing and welcoming Samaritans. 

Samaritans!

The common wisdom of the time said that there is a place for love and compassion, and there is a place for all people, to have some role in society … but unless they became like the respectable members of society, they could not be full-fledged members of society.

In other words, they would always be 2^nd or 3^rd class citizens. Welcome … but not really.

It is to these oppressed, discouraged, and put-down people that the gospel speaks its loudest word of hope and salvation.  To them the prophet declares:  “You are a beloved child of God, beautiful to behold.”  To them Jesus proclaims:  “You are the light of the world and salt for the earth.”  To them, Jesus extends a welcome invitation, and says to them: 

“You have been broken by a world that is cruel and unjust and unkind, a world that refuses to welcome you at the table of fellowship.  But here, at my table, I share with you my body which has also been broken, so that you may be made whole.  I share with you my life-giving blood, which has been shed, so that you might enjoy life in all its fullness.”

And to those who would speak discouraging, disheartening, destructive words, Jesus, in the 12^th chapter of Matthew, offers this rebuke: 

“How can you speak good things, when you are evil?  For out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks.  The good person brings good things out of a good treasure, and the evil person brings evil things out of an evil treasure.  I tell you, on the day of judgment you will have to give an account for every careless word you utter; for by your words you will be justified, and by your words you will be condemned.”

Now, I don’t know about you, but it sounds to me like this was a pretty important issue to Jesus, speaking words of encouragement to all.

So now I’ve come to the realization that my task on Friday is no simple task; nor is it one that I should take lightly. 

Because in that crowd that will gather here, there will likely be child who has been hurt by name-calling. 

There will likely be an adolescent who has been bullied, living in fear and anxiety.

There will likely be a teenager who cries himself to sleep at night struggling with a sexuality that he did not ask for and which is still not accepted by society. 

There will likely be an adult leader who has been denied a job because of his or her gender, skin color or ethnicity, or who has been victimized by gossip that took place in person or online. 

There will likely be many who have been discouraged, repeatedly, in one way or another, by a society that can be cruel and unkind.

And, just as likely, there will be present the perpetrators of such cruelty.  It’s so easy to do, and it happens all the time.  A careless word, an insensitive comment, a rude gesture, a veiled or not-so-veiled insult. 

Few ever commit the sin of murder.  But the equally serious sin of uttering careless words that insult and discourage and inflict emotional pain and anguish is one that we commit every day.

There is, of course, an unfortunate irony in all this, one that will go unmentioned on Friday, but which I will share with you now.  The Boy Scouts of America has a policy which itself is a word of discouragement, unkindness and cruelty, a policy against openly gay members. 

This is not a universal policy.  Scouts in Canada, Europe, and elsewhere do not have such a policy, and neither do the Girl Scouts in the United States.  It is also a policy that is often ignored among scout leaders and professionals here in Long Beach and in many other places around the country.  But it is the official national policy.

The inconsistency of an organization that teaches young men to be friendly and kind, and to stand up for the rights of others, has led over one million people to sign petitions opposing the policy, many of them youth & adults affiliated with scouting, including thousands of Eagle Scouts.  Hundreds of Eagle Scouts have even returned their medals in protest.

Whether they were inspired by their faith, the values they learned in scouting, or both, I do not know.  But it is clear that there is a movement to bring healing and wholeness to those who have so often been dealt with unkindly; a movement that seeks to speak words of encouragement instead of discouragement to those who have long been oppressed by “respectable society.”

The harshest words Jesus ever spoke were against those who would exclude people from the table of fellowship, exclude them from full participation in church and society.  They are the “brood of vipers,” the ones who lay heavy burdens on people instead of lightening the load of discrimination, oppression, bigotry and prejudice.  They are the ones who failed to motivate others to love and good works.  They are the ones who failed to speak words of encouragement. 

So now I fully understand the task set before me for Friday.  It is the task to let those young people know that words which kill the spirit are just as bad as weapons which kill the body; to motivate them to love and to good works, speaking words of kindness and friendship to all; to teach them to encourage one another in everything they do and everything they say.

Because that’s what the commandment means when it says, “Do not murder.”