Today is Sunday, May 17. The 6th Sunday of Easter. The 9th Sunday that we’ve been unable to gather in our sanctuary, together.
We will be back there one day. I don’t know when, exactly, yet. Even though some activities that had been restricted - like hiking - are now being allowed, the director of the L.A. County Department of Health said our stay-at-home restrictions will likely extend through July.
That’s a long time. And, yes, I am getting tired of waiting. I think a lot of people are getting tired of waiting.
Waiting for the pandemic to end.
Waiting until the stores are open.
Waiting until the parks are open for picnicking
Waiting until we can freely visit and hug those we love.
Waiting until we can go back to work
It's been over two months already, and we’re tired of waiting...
We’re tired of waiting…
It almost feels as if Psalm 13 is speaking directly to us these days. Psalm 13 is titled, “A Psalm of David,” and it begins like this:
How long, O Lord?
Will you forget me forever?
How long will you hide your face from me?
How long must I bear pain in my soul,
and have sorrow in my heart all day long?
How long shall my enemy be exalted over me?
Consider and answer me, O Lord my God!
[13:1-3]
Evidently David was tired of waiting.
This week, Tim Grobaty wrote a column for the Long Beach Post, and the title of that article was “How Long, O Lord, How Long?” He, too, is tired of waiting. He recognizes the importance of staying at home; he doesn’t want our leaders to foolishly end the restrictions too early. But still, he’s tired of waiting.
The prophet Habakkuk was also tired of waiting. The opening words of the book of Habakkuk read:
O Lord, how long shall I cry for help, and you will not listen?
[Habakkuk 1:1]
Habakkuk the prophet was tired of waiting. Just like we are tired of waiting. Just like I am tired of waiting.
But then I hear news about Ahmaud Arbery, an unarmed 25 year-old African-American man who was shot and killed by two armed men in a pickup truck, while he was jogging. And I hear about Breonna Taylor, an African American EMT in Louisville who was shot and killed by police when they were looking for a suspect but entered the wrong home by mistake.
I hear this, and I wonder: how long have African-Americans been waiting until their sons are safe to go jogging on a public street without getting gunned down? How long have they been waiting until they can rest in their own homes without being shot and killed by police?
How many years, how many generations, have they been praying: “How long, O Lord, how long?” Because as you know, incidents like these have a long history in this country.
And I think about others who have been crying out, “How long, O Lord, how long?: I think about others who have been waiting far too long - not to be able to go out without a mask - but simply to live in a society free from injustice, free from terror.
I think about Nina Pop, a transgender woman who was stabbed to death last week in Missouri, and I wonder: How long have transgender Americans been waiting for the day they could be who they are without worrying about being stabbed and left to die?
I think about the poor, and wonder: how long have poor Americans been waiting for our government to care about them the way government cares for corporations and billionaires?
I think about victims of gun violence and wonder: How long have the parents of Sandy Hook been waiting - how long have the parents of the thousands of other murdered children been waiting - for our nation to care more about human lives than about the gun lobby?
I think about places like Standing Rock and I wonder: how long have Native Americans been waiting for the U.S. government to honor their sovereignty, respect their land?
....
After just nine weeks, we’re tired of waiting for this pandemic to end, and I don’t mean to make light of that. What we’re experiencing is difficult. It’s hard.
And what makes it even harder is the way it reminds us of the waiting that’s been taking place by our neighbors, our community, our fellow Americans, for so many things, for far too long. Generation after generation.
And like the psalmist and the prophet we cry out: How long, O Lord, how long?
How long, O Lord, must we wait for freedom, for justice? How long must we wait until people truly start practicing that most important command, that we love our neighbor?
We’re tired of waiting.
This pandemic has not hit all people equally. Some are suffering much more than others. The poor are receiving little help in these times, but we continue to provide extensive welfare to corporations. Why is it that so many profitable corporations pay little to no tax? Why is it that the wealth of billionaires has been growing even while so many are suffering economically?
We’re tired of waiting for things to change.
The president says the economy is doing well. Yet more people than ever are living in poverty.
News reports say the stock market is going back up. Yet the unemployment rate is at its highest level since the Great depression.
Something isn't right here. How long do we have to wait for things to get right? We’re tired of waiting.
This is all so overwhelming. And we've been waiting a very long time for it all to change, for things to get better.
We’re tired of waiting.
We’re tired of waiting for God's kingdom to come.
Jesus was tired of waiting.
When he began his ministry, after he was baptized, after he was tempted in the wilderness, he went to his hometown of Nazareth. He went into the synagogue, and was handed a scroll to read. It was the prophet Isaiah. He opened it up and read out loud these words:
The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives, and sight to the blind, and freedom to the oppressed. He has sent me to proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord.
Just so you know, “the acceptable year of the Lord” means the year, the time, the moment, when all things will be made right; when all things will be as God intends for them to be, with justice and shalom for everyone. It is another way of saying: the arrival of God’s kingdom.
Well, people had been waiting a long time for the arrival of God’s kingdom. They had been waiting, and praying, for a savior to save them from the corruption and oppression of Roman rule….
After Jesus finished reading these words from Isaiah, he handed the scroll back to the attendant. He sat down, which is what teachers did in those days when they were about to teach.
And he looked at everyone in the synagogue; and everyone in the synagogue was looking at him; and he said to them: “Today, this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”
Today.
The time of waiting is over.
Today, good news will be preached to the poor.
Today, the captives will find release.
Today, the blind will see.
Today, the oppressed will be set free.
Today, God’s kingdom is present.
But wait: Caesar was still on the throne. Roman rule, Roman oppression, was still present.
That didn’t seem to phase Jesus. Just because there was a corrupt and oppressive ruler in the land, didn’t mean that he needed to let that corruption and oppression rule his mind. He didn’t have to allow Caesar’s way of thinking shape his way of thinking.
And just because society was filled with prejudices and injustice didn’t mean he needed to let prejudice and injustice characterize his life.
Even if he was the only one doing it, he was going to live in the kingdom of God.
But he did invite others to join him. He invited them to join him in this new way of living. Some accepted that invitation.
It was a way of living that replaced fear with love. It replaced despair with hope. It replaced hatred with kindness.
And if the world around him criticized him for that, persecuted him for that, he wouldn’t allow it to change who he was or how he was going to live.
Treat every person with respect and affirmation and love. It doesn’t matter who they are. It doesn’t matter if the whole world is dividing people into “us” and “them;” for Jesus, all people were one.
And it doesn’t matter if the whole world believes in pushing other people down in order to get to the top. Jesus would always live in such a way that he would boost others up, even if it meant he himself never rose to the top of the hierarchy of power.
What does all this mean in relation to the pandemic? Does it mean we don’t need to wait to rush out of our homes and gather together?
Of course not. That’s definitely NOT what it means.
What it means is that we don’t need to wait for this to all be over in order to live as the church, finding new and creative ways to share love, and new and creative ways to work for justice in our world.
And we can take comfort in knowing that God does hear us when we cry out, and ask, “How long, O Lord, how long?” And, like David - in Psalm 13 - we can affirm our trust in God’s steadfast love, and we can rejoice in the healing and wholeness that is present in our lives right now, even in the midst of the pandemic. We can rejoice in the healing and wholeness in our lives, and in the ways God works through us to provide healing and wholeness to the world.
Because right now, we are free. Right now, we are free to be who and what God has called us to be. Right now, we are free to love our neighbor, and fight for justice. Right now, in a deeply fragmented world, we are free to be a movement for wholeness.
