Sound the Trumpets (Numbers 10:1-7)

This month is our reconciliation offering. The reconciliation theme is “sound the trumpet,” based on the scripture. I’ll get to that shortly, but first, I want to tell you about an experience I had at science camp on Catalina..

The organization that runs this science camp is not faith-based, but most of the schools who come are Christian schools, and the camp facility is owned by an organization that runs its own Christian camps throughout much of the year.

One week, I was there on site the night before campers arrived, and was invited to attend a Bible study that the staff of the camp hold each week. The passage for that particular week was from the second chapter of James, which instructs believers to not show favoritism to the rich. It sounded pretty straightforward to me.

Part of it reads:  “If a person with gold rings and in fine clothes comes into your assembly, and if a poor person in dirty clothes also comes in, and if you take notice of the one wearing the fine clothes and say, ‘Have a seat here, please’, while to the one who is poor you say, ‘Stand there’, or, ‘Sit at my feet’, have you not made distinctions among yourselves, and become judges with evil thoughts? … Has not God chosen the poor in the world to be rich in faith and to be heirs of the kingdom? But you have dishonored the poor…If you show partiality, you commit sin.”

At the Bible study, we read the passage, and then everyone was invited to share their thoughts. Well, I had a whole sermon running through my head! I thought about all the Bible passages that talk about the poor. I thought about the prophets, and their calls for justice for the poor, and about how God only called prophets in times of great economic inequality. I thought about the beatitudes, and “Blessed are the poor…” I thought about Jesus’ statement that the Spirit anointed him to preach good news to the poor…

All this, and more, came to mind… 

But this was not the time for a sermon. So, instead of speaking, I listened.

Some of those in the group shared good thoughts. Some offered up questions. Some shared their experience working with the homeless. 

And then someone started talking about how they heard on Fox News (God help me!) that the poor live in poverty and the homeless live on the streets because they are lazy or addicted; and some others around the room nodded their heads in agreement.  

No one in that group mentioned that rent has tripled while wages have remained flat as a cause of poverty/homelessness; and no one mentioned that the disparity between CEOs and frontline workers has widened considerably in recent years; and no one mentioned that the U.S. tax code greatly favors the wealthy and places an unfair burden on the poor and working class.

So now, I felt called to speak up; yet I decided to wait, and listen a little more.

The conversation turned briefly into a defense of our status as not like them, and giving thanks to God for that. We are hard workers, and while we may not be rich, at least we’re not on the streets, or living in poverty. Thank you, Jesus!

At this point, as the conversation progressed, I was starting to wonder if anything I could say would even make a difference. I didn’t know how I could say what I felt God calling me to say without sounding self-righteous, or having it sound like I was attacking those around me. 

And I knew I needed to respond out of love, and they needed to know that my love was genuine, or it would be in vain. But at the moment, I couldn’t feel love, I could only feel judgment within me. And doesn’t this same scripture that we were studying condemn judging others?

So I knew that I was not yet ready to speak.

And I should point out that these are some truly wonderful people, extraordinarily kind, who had shown great friendship and hospitality to me, who remembered me from last spring and who enthusiastically greeted me by name when I arrived back at camp this fall. I really like these people, even if I did disagree with some of the points they were making.

So, still, I kept quiet.

Also, the more I listened, the more I learned. Really. The more I listened, the more I started to wonder if my own ideas about the poor were just as biased. I started mentally examining my own prejudices about the poor. I knew that if I judged those around me for their attitude toward the poor, I’d be condemning myself. 

At this point, I realized that this Bible passage, which had seemed so straightforward when we read it at the beginning of our Bible study, was anything but.

The conversation made me aware of my own biases and prejudices toward the poor, and this humbled me. It brought me away from that realm of judgment. And it helped me figure out what I wanted to say.

Finally, when I spoke, I said this:

I hear God speaking to me through this scripture and through our conversation. And God is first and foremost calling me to examine my own biases and assumptions concerning the poor. 

I want more money. I think if we’re honest, all of us will admit that. We may insist that we don’t need A LOT of money to be happy, but most of us are always finding ourselves wanting at least a little more money than we have now. 

So this scripture is challenging me to ask myself: how does my attitude toward money influence how I think of the poor, or how I judge the poor? How does it influence how I judge the rich? What assumptions am I making about WHY people are poor? 

And finally, I know Jesus says “blessed are the poor;” and Jesus says, “I have been anointed to bring good news to the poor.” Now, I believe that Jesus’ good news includes EVERYONE. But why does he mention ONLY the poor? 

“This is hard, and that’s how this scripture is challenging me today.” 

I stopped there, because I felt like I had said enough. But I’ll go a little further with you, here and now.

If the good news includes everyone, why does Jesus just mention the poor? (“I came to preach good news to the poor…”)

After thinking about that, I realized that’s the same as asking, if all lives matter, why do we say “Black lives matter”? Rich and poor, black and white; all lives matter to God. Why does the Bible specifically name poor lives? Why do we specifically name Black lives?

And of course, it’s because it’s poor lives that are being exploited. It’s Black lives that are endangered because of hate and injustice.

And God calls on us to look past our assumptions and biases and speak out on behalf of those who are being treated unfairly or unjustly, and to work to remove injustice and get rid of oppression.

And to do that, we need to speak out. We need to turn off the mute button and speak up. 

And that’s not always easy to do. 

It’s not always easy for me as an introvert. It’s hard for me to jump in to a conversation that’s going along. I guess that’s why I preach! It’s the only time I feel comfortable sharing my thoughts!

But sometimes, God calls on me to speak out at a time other than Sunday morning.

Injustice happens 24/7. The ongoing exploitation and oppression of the poor is happening 24/7. The ongoing injustice committed against those who are Black is happening 24/7.

And there are times when God calls on me to speak out, even in situations where that’s hard for me.

And there are times when God calls on you to speak out, even in situations where that’s hard for you.

I mean…

We want people to like us…

We’re shy…

We are afraid that if we stand with those who are being persecuted, that we will then be persecuted. (!)

So we keep quiet.

Yet God calls us to speak out for justice; to speak out for what is right; to sound the trumpet; to raise the alarm;...

…When people are being treated unfairly. When poverty is the result of exploitation and engineered economics… When racism is embedded in our society.

It’s what Jesus did.

And don’t we claim to be followers of Jesus? Don't we call ourselves Disciples of Christ?

We Disciples proclaim that we are a “pro-reconciling, anti-racism” church. God has put on our hearts the importance of doing this work. Systemic racism is real, and it pervades every sector of society; even the church.

As a “pro-reconciling, anti-racism” church, we are committed to examining the way we do church with an eye toward the ways we have perpetuated racism, so that we may work to overcome it.

We examine our own racism first, because that keeps us from being judgmental toward others. It keeps us humble. Just like when I examined my own attitude toward the poor before speaking out, we must begin by examining the ways racism affects us and manifests itself in our lives.

Once we do that, we are then equipped and ready to answer the call to address racism in the world, to speak out, to sound the trumpet, to bring racism to light, so that we may work to overcome it in the world.

I guess you could say that that inner work, examining ourselves first, can be compared to all the practice that a trumpet player must do, to learn how to properly play, to sound even one note on the trumpet. Practice first, then sound the trumpet. Examine your own racism and prejudice, and then sound the alarm.

We have a message to proclaim, a message given to us by God, a message the world desperately needs to hear. A message that leads to peace, and unity, and love for all humankind. 

Let’s share that message with the world.

An Honest Confession (Luke 17: 5-10)

 There is a really big assumption in today’s scripture reading that I’m not comfortable with. 

The reading assumes I have - or have had - a slave. “Who among you,” it says, “would say to your slave, ‘Come, take your place at the table…’”

Well, I wouldn’t tell my slave that, because I never have been, and never will be, a slaveowner. 

It’s an offensive assumption!

And I know that, in the scripture, Jesus is speaking to a specific group of people, but he’s telling a parable, and through Luke Jesus is also speaking to us…to all of us… which means that assumption is made to all of us…

Who among you (I ask), likes being compared to a slaveowner? 

I imagine that you are as offended by that assumption as I am. Or at least, I hope you are as offended by that assumption as I am.

I don’t even like it when someone suggests that my ancestors may have been slaveowners. I never heard any stories of any of my ancestors owning slaves. I’d like to think that they were against such evil, that my ancestors were morally opposed to slavery even when society at large was not.

But I really have no idea. It may be that my ancestors were just too poor to own slaves. Maybe they would have if they could have. 

Or, maybe there were slaveowners among my ancestors, but those stories have been erased.

Only the stories we want to remember get passed down.

Whether it’s family history or national history, we tend to erase ugly truths and highlight only the stories that present a perfect, pure, unblemished narrative.

So, forgive me for not liking this scripture that assumes I’m a slaveowner, or that I can relate to being a slaveowner. And forgive me for never having preached on this scripture before. 

The lectionary repeats every three years, which means I’ve had four or five opportunities to preach on this scripture since I first came here to Bixby Knolls Christian Church over fourteen years ago, but somehow I’ve always found one of the other lectionary scriptures to preach on, or a scripture from outside of the lectionary.

I always found something else to preach on, because I don’t like the assumption this scripture makes - the assumption that I, or that any of us, would know what it’s like to be a slaveowner.

But today, I am preaching on this scripture… because I’ve come to realize that maybe my focus shouldn’t be solely on the unpleasant assumptions this scripture makes about me. Maybe my focus should be on the unpleasant assumptions I make about others.

Assumptions that expose the racism that exists within me.

Yes, I confess: there is racism in me. 

That’s a hard confession to make, because I know how very evil and sinful racism is.

And no, it’s not the kind of racism that would turn people into slaves, or would burn a cross while wearing a white hood, or anything like that.

But there are different types of racism, and some are more subtle and hidden than others.

When I substitute teach, I know my main job is to maintain discipline and order in the classroom. Some days that’s easier than others.

And it involves a lot of split-second decisions…

For example: a student wads up a piece of paper and throws it across the room toward the wastebasket. Do I enforce the rule about no throwing things in class? Or do I laugh and maybe make a joke about whether the student should, or should not, try out for the basketball team?

It’s a difficult decision on my part, especially since the teachers I sub for all have different rules. Some are extremely strict, while others have gone as far as to put a tiny toy basketball hoop over their wastebasket.

What if, on one particular day, I harshly reprimand one student for wadding up and throwing his paper, but not another? I start to wonder: Why? Why did I enforce the rules differently for two different students?

• Was it the maturity level of the class? 

• Was it my assessment of how likely it was that things would get out of hand? 

• Was it how well the students were working in the moments leading up to the incident?

Often, those are things that affect my reaction, and all are reasonable. These or any number of other things might justify why I would react differently.

But a few times, I’ve found no justification for my reacting one way with one student, and another way with a different student.

Then I have to ask myself: Was it because of the students’ race that I reacted differently?

It is hard to know for sure, but there are times when I find it impossible to rule out racism as a reason. Somewhere deep within me, there is something that can lead me to treat one student differently than another student, because of how I perceived their race.

I made an assumption about one student, about their motives, their intentions - and I made a different assumption about another student - and I could not find any reason other than race to explain why my assumptions were different. 

Believe me, I tried. I’d tell myself, surely there must have been some reason, some good reason, why I treated this student differently than that student.

But sometimes, I can’t find any good reason.

And that’s how I know that I am still not yet completely free of racism and prejudice.

And that’s the kind of racism that still exists within many of us today - probably all of us, at least all of us who are white or who get perceived as being white. It’s the kind of racism that is widespread in our society. It’s the kind of racism that even exists within our church.

That’s why, in 1967, the Disciples of Christ established its reconciliation ministry.

And it’s why, in 1971, we established Reconciliation as a permanent office and fund for working to support racial reconciliation and anti-racist projects.

And then, in 1996, the General Board of the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) approved the formation of a church-wide process to discern the nature of racism in North America and to develop ways of helping congregations address racism. Out of this process, an Anti-Racism/Pro-Reconciliation initiative was established in 1998. The initiative is based on several premises, including:

1. Racism is a spiritual and theological dilemma as well as a social evil;

2. Racist practice exists throughout the life of the church and needs to be addressed. The church needs to get its own “house” in order even as it looks toward being a transformational agent in the larger world;

3. Racism is a systemic problem with historical root causes.

(This month, BKCC supports this reconciliation ministry by sending a portion of the offering money received to the reconciliation office…)

Every five years, I’m required to complete an anti-racism/pro-reconciliation training, in order to maintain my standing as a minister in the church. I think these trainings deserve much of the credit for my ability to seriously ponder how racism affects my own actions.

Because learning to see the racism within oneself is not an easy thing. It’s not something that happens just on its own, without serious intention or effort.

I feel like we almost need a 12-step program, like the ones addicts use, where people can go and confess that there is racism at work within them.

“Hi, I’m Danny, and I’m a racist…”

We wouldn’t introduce ourselves that way because we think racism is good…

And it wouldn’t because we are overtly or intentionally racist in how we treat people…

And it wouldn’t be because we want to be racist…

But the racism of our history and our society is so pervasive, that it’s impossible to not be contaminated by it; it is a “systemic problem with historical root causes…”

…and it’s impossible to break free from it…

…unless you start examining your own motives and assumptions, and start questioning why you make the assumptions you do, and why you treat people the way you do…

…which is difficult work.

And most people aren’t up to that difficult work.

Most people, horrified at the thought of slavery and of being associated with KKK-style racism, insist, “I’m not racist.”

Some will expand on that; they’ll say, “I’m not racist, but…” and what follows next usually exposes how racism is at work within them, in ways they aren’t willing to admit, or in ways they themselves aren’t even aware of.

And in many school districts and communities and states, teachers are being prohibited from even talking about how race is embedded in society, or how racism continues to shape society today. This push to deny reality comes not only from white nationalists, but also from people who just haven’t been able to open their eyes to how pervasive racism actually is.

If we refuse to talk about racism in our history and racism in our society, then it becomes even harder to recognize how racism affects our own actions, how racism influences our policies and our laws, how racism prevents us from living in a society of peace and justice and equality for all.

Just like the addict who doesn’t want to admit that they don’t have a problem, we don’t want to admit that racism has shaped our history and continues to shape our society and our lives today. 

But God is calling us to open our eyes. God is calling us to see the truth. God is calling us, as a church, to be pro-reconciliation and anti-racism.

This is the path to healing.

This is how we achieve wholeness for our fragmented world. It’s how we unite with the entire human family and the one church of Christ which this day - World Communion Sunday - celebrates.

This is how we show love to our neighbor. It is impossible to fully love one’s neighbor if you do not at least question the assumptions you make about them. 

This is how we find freedom from sin.

As a church, we are committed to taking a good, hard look at our own assumptions and prejudices, confessing our sin, and repenting, so that - as Christ’s church - we can help transform the world and bring God’s vision of wholeness to fruition.

Then, and only then, will we be free from our bondage to sin; and the Spirit will lead us to freedom. And when we are free from the sin of racism, when our church is free from the sin of racism, when our nation is free from the sin of racism, we will be able to say: we once were lost, but now we are found; we were blind, but now we see.

Because we will have finally uncovered what it is that kept us from fully loving our neighbor as ourself; and we will be able to love more freely, more completely. And the kingdom of God - where there are no distinctions separating humans from one another, but where all are one in Christ - will become real on earth. The kingdom of God - where the full image and presence of God is seen in every person - will become present within us and among us.

"Wisdom to Sing" (Psalm 111)

I don’t know why the Bible translations still talk about the “fear of the Lord.” It’s generally recognized by scholars that when the Bible talks about the fear of the Lord, it’s not fear in the sense of “run for your lives.” What it means is awe. Reverence.

But language has a strange way of changing. My seminary professor Joe Jones always said that words have a way of “getting up and walking around.”

For example, the word awful used to mean full of awe. In other words, awful meant the same thing as awesome. But parents would take their children to church and point out things at the cathedral, and say, isn’t this the most awful church? (Meaning, isn’t this just the most awesome church?)

But the kids were bored to death in church (church back then wasn’t nearly as exciting as it is now!), and later, they would say to each other, “Yeah, that was just the most awful church…” And eventually the meaning changed to what it is today, which is just the opposite of what it originally meant, and society had to invent a new word – awesome – to mean what the word awful originally meant.

Anyway, awe and reverence of the Lord – not fear – is the beginning of wisdom.

This Psalm – Psalm 111 – was chosen for the lectionary today because in churches where all four lectionary scriptures are read each Sunday, the psalm follows the Old Testament reading, and the Old Testament reading for today describes the time Solomon prayed for wisdom.

You know that story; God appeared to Solomon and said, “Ask me what I should give you…” And Solomon could have asked for anything: long life, riches, victory over his enemies… But instead, Solomon asked for wisdom. This pleased God so much that God gave Solomon what he asked for, but also gave Solomon what he did not ask for: riches and honor.

So perhaps wisdom is what I should be talking about today, not fear or awe.

This verse in Psalm 111 talks about wisdom, but the psalm as a whole is about praising God. “Praise the Lord! I will give thanks to the Lord! He is gracious and merciful…”

It reminds me of Psalm 34: “I will bless the Lord at all times; his praise shall continually be in my mouth.”

But since I started with thoughts of wisdom, now I wonder: is that wise? Is it wise to bless the Lord at all times? Are there times when it’s wise not to praise and bless the Lord?

Whether blessing the Lord at all times is wise or not, it’s certainly not easy.

Israel didn’t feel like blessing the Lord and praising God when it was caught in captivity. Invaded, forcibly removed from its homeland, the people had very little praise in their mouths.

Instead, they found they couldn’t even sing. Psalm 137 shows this: “By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down and wept. We put away all our musical instruments… How could we sing the Lord’s song in a foreign land?”

They could not sing. They could not praise God. Things had just gotten too bad for that.

I know some people in the church who feel that way today. Remember back in the day when everyone went to church? Now, on Sunday mornings, people go to brunch. They go to soccer games. They sleep in. Nobody goes to church.

And for the few of us who do, come on, you gotta admit: sometimes we think it would be nice to sleep in on a Sunday morning, and then go to brunch, which is really what people who sleep in call breakfast just so they don’t have to admit that they weren’t quite able to eat breakfast at breakfast time because they were still in bed.

Amy Butler – pastor of the Riverside Church in New York City – talked about these things in her sermon at the General Assembly last month. Her scripture was Isaiah 40, and she said she was all ready to talk about how the church has declined, and how we find ourselves in a foreign land, much like the people of Israel, a land that no longer looks like it once did, a land where it is hard to sing the Lord’s song, a land where hope is hard to come by and the future looks bleak.

If that was all she preached on, we would have listened. In the 1960s, the Disciples of Christ had almost two million members; today it’s less than one million, quite a lot less. Churches are closing or facing tough financial decisions (and if you were at last week’s board meeting, you know that we at Bixby Knolls Christian Church are facing our own financial struggles). Indeed, many are finding it hard to sing God’s praises in the face of such a decline.

Amy Butler said she was all ready to talk about these things…they seemed so important… but then…as she put it: “late one Wednesday night…, everything changed.  Breaking news flashed across my phone: nine black people shot, murdered in a Charleston church at the hands of a white supremacist.

She said, “All of a sudden, those hard, hard questions about the relevance of the church stood in stark relief against the raw reality of life in our country these days.

She said, “a month ago the big fear was the dying church.  Then we saw nine people die in church.

She said that “now the question is, perhaps as it should have been all along, no longer whether the church can survive, but more: ‘What is our call and responsibility as God’s people, in this culture of structural racism, injustice, and death?’”

There was wisdom in her words.

This week, I’ve begun reading a brand new book by Leah Francis Gunning called Ferguson and Faith. This week, Sojourners magazine interviewed Leah Francis Gunning about her book, and asked her what church did racial justice well in the year since Ferguson.

She said, “Compton Heights Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) in St. Louis.” Now, this is a small congregation, even smaller than Bixby Knolls Christian Church.

According to Leah Francis Gunning, “In the past, they have been involved in outreach activities but not a lot tailored toward racial justice. When Ferguson happened, their pastor got involved in protests, and when she invited the congregation to participate with her, they did so.

“And here’s how: They reimagined what it means to be a safe sanctuary. Often times we think of safe sanctuaries as places where children won’t be harmed and people are appropriately trained. That’s important.

“But they’ve expanded this definition of safe sanctuary to really think about what it means to welcome those who don’t feel welcome. In the movement, they opened their sanctuary doors as places of training, gathering, cooking—and equally important—as places of prayer.

“One of the young activists came to the pastor and said, “Why are your doors opened to us?” Because so many doors had been closed—not just to the protesters, but to young people generally who don’t often feel welcome in our congregations because of who they choose to love or how they choose to wear their clothes.”

I’m glad that Leah Francis Gunning named a Disciples of Christ church. I’m even happier that Compton Heights Christian Church – a small, struggling congregation – has kept singing the Lord’s song, has kept blessing God and blessing the community.

So it doesn’t matter if we have two million people, two hundred people, or two people: we have a song to sing.

And no matter what, praise is a part of that song.

And even when it seems inappropriate to sing a song of praise, we must do so. It is wise to do so. It is necessary.

When we are caught in a foreign land, a bleak landscape, we must sing our song of praise.

When our numbers are down, we must sing our song of praise.

When there is violence in the land, we must sing our song of praise.

And here’s why.

The God we worship is a God who comforts the afflicted, who dries every tear, who – as the psalmist says –  is close to the brokenhearted and heals those whose spirits are crushed.

The God we worship is a God who is gracious and merciful. This description of God is repeated over and over again in scripture: Numbers 14, Nehemiah 9, Psalm 103, Jeremiah 32, Jonah 4…

The God we worship cares more about faithfulness than numbers. During Vacation Bible School, we learned that things once got so bad for Elijah that he believed he was the only faithful one left. Talk about a decline in membership! Elijah looked around, and there was no one else. But with God’s help, Elijah kept doing what he was called to do, and through his faithfulness he came to realize that there were, in fact, others. Not a lot, but more than he had thought.

The God we worship focuses more attention on nine people who were killed in church than on millions who choose to sleep in on Sunday mornings. All people are important to God; but it is those who are being oppressed, terrorized, murdered, and hated who God pays special attention to.

So we can mope and lament all those who no longer attend church in our society… or we can focus our attention on the children who are dying in church, the children who are dying in the streets, dying at the hands of violence, dying because we have forgotten them and the neighborhoods they live in, dying because their skin is the wrong color, dying because their parents can’t afford to protect them, dying because of the sins of a nation.

And we can be silent in the face of a church that is no longer what it once was, or we can sing out loud the Lord’s praises, sing out a song of justice, freedom, and love.

Because that is the Lord’s song, and it is a song that, more than ever, needs to be heard. It is a song to sing in the morning and sing in the evening, all over the land. It is a song of wisdom, and it is wisdom that teaches us to sing.

I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to sing. God is faithful; God has not abandoned us. God is here, and God is inspiring me to sing. Are you ready to sing? Let’s sing. And let’s praise and bless the Lord at all times, for God is good and God is faithful.