"Purple suits and hope: What to wear while waiting" - Sermon for 19 November 2017
"Purple suits and hope: What to wear while waiting"
Sermon for Sunday 19 November 2017
The Rev. Carrie Ballenger Smith
Grace and peace to you from God our
Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
One Saturday morning in late summer, I popped over
to the market near Damascus Gate to buy few things for breakfast, and on the
way back, found myself stopped at a red light with a crowd of "black
hatters” returning from their Shabbat prayers. There I was, surrounded by a sea
of people wearing black religious clothes, but this time I wearing jeans and a
t-shirt instead of a clergy collar! I felt utterly conspicuous, but in a completely
different way than usual.
As I stood there at the intersection with the men, feeling awkward, I saw that waiting on the other side of the street was an elderly Palestinian man. He was white-haired and frail, and used a walking stick. He looked so fragile, I honestly worried he wouldn't make it across the street by himself.
But he was noticeable for another reason, too. In contrast to our somber side of the street, this man was wearing a fancy suit in the brightest color purple I have ever seen. In fact, "purple" doesn't even describe it. It was Welch's Grape Jelly! Pants, jacket, vest, and tie, all in Welch's Grape Jelly purple.
As I stood there at the intersection with the men, feeling awkward, I saw that waiting on the other side of the street was an elderly Palestinian man. He was white-haired and frail, and used a walking stick. He looked so fragile, I honestly worried he wouldn't make it across the street by himself.
But he was noticeable for another reason, too. In contrast to our somber side of the street, this man was wearing a fancy suit in the brightest color purple I have ever seen. In fact, "purple" doesn't even describe it. It was Welch's Grape Jelly! Pants, jacket, vest, and tie, all in Welch's Grape Jelly purple.
He. Was.
Fabulous.
And it was only
9:30 in the morning.
When the signal said “Walk”, the old man in purple stepped off the curb and marched towards us. I really shouldn’t have worried about him. He walked like he owned that particular street. He walked like the King of Palestine! He walked like the Easter bunny hopping through a Good Friday procession! And I thought: Mabrouk, habibi! You woke up this morning in a city where it seems only "black clothes matter", and you decided to bring the whole rainbow to the party! Hallelujah!
When the signal said “Walk”, the old man in purple stepped off the curb and marched towards us. I really shouldn’t have worried about him. He walked like he owned that particular street. He walked like the King of Palestine! He walked like the Easter bunny hopping through a Good Friday procession! And I thought: Mabrouk, habibi! You woke up this morning in a city where it seems only "black clothes matter", and you decided to bring the whole rainbow to the party! Hallelujah!
We passed by
each other quickly, going our separate ways, but I couldn’t stop thinking about
the man in purple. I decided he should be called “Abu Ainab أبو عنب”, Father of the Grape. And I
wondered: “Dear Abu Aynab, where are you possibly going dressed like that on a
Saturday morning in Jerusalem?”
You are not
dressed for the blazing hot Jerusalem summer.
You are not
dressed for drinking coffee on the corner and smoking cigarettes.
Abu Aynab was
not dressed for selling bread, or dealing with grandchildren, or shopping for
groceries, or really anything that I could imagine might lie ahead on that
particular street.
In fact, it
seems to me he does not even belong to this Jerusalem at all.
He does not
belong to the Jerusalem of soldiers and guns, permits and checkpoints, priests
in black robes and men in black hats.
I have no
idea if he is Christian or Muslim, but Abu Aynab definitely belongs to the New Jerusalem. He was dressed for the
resurrection dawn! He was clothed for possibility, for liberation, and for the
light of a new day. Amen!
On this
morning, the question I’d like us to consider is:
Which
Jerusalem, which world, what kind of future are we dressed for?
Do we belong
to the day, or to the night? To peace, or to war? To despair, or to hope? Are
we outfitted for continuing the fight as usual, or have we put on the
breastplate of faith and love, and the helmet of salvation?
In 1
Thessalonians chapter 5, the Apostle Paul writes to a Christian community
weighed down with the strain of keeping the faith, weary of waiting for Jesus’
return, and tempted to give up on the hope of God’s kingdom of peace and
justice, and he says:
“…you are all
children of light and children of the day; we are not of the night or of
darkness. So then let us not fall asleep as others do, but let us keep awake
and be sober; for those who sleep sleep at night, and those who are drunk get
drunk at night. But since we belong to the day, let us be sober, and put on the
breastplate of faith and love, and for a helmet the hope of salvation.”
Paul says
Christians are children of light and of the day; we are not of the night and of
the darkness. So let’s act like it! And
let’s dress appropriately for the day ahead. We don’t need armor and
weapons. We don’t need sharp tongues and sharp elbows!
Instead, let’s get
fabulous. Let us put on Christ. Let us put on our baptismal robes. Let us put
on our purple suits and get ready for the Day of the Lord. Amen!
The Apostle
Paul wants the Thessalonians to boldly claim
their identity as followers of Christ, and to persist in faith even though the
wait for the Kingdom of God is long.
Notice that in writing to the
Thessalonians, Paul makes his point with some very clear and distinct binaries:
We are of the day, not of the night. We are children of light, not of the
darkness.
There is some
painful history here which needs to be addressed, before we move any further.
Preachers have long used this passage, and others like it, to perpetuate racist
and anti-Semitic attitudes. “Children of the darkness” has been interpreted as
a code for “Jews” and has been extrapolated to include other non-believers as
well. The church has used this interpretation to persecute our Jewish, Muslim, and
atheist neighbors, among others.
And it has
taken far too long for the church to recognize how equating “darkness” or “blackness”
with evil and lack of faith is spiritual abuse of our sisters and brothers of
color. We must reject these simplistic and false interpretations of Scripture—for
the Gospel ceases to be “Good News” when it harms any one of God’s children.
This morning, as a called and ordained minister of the Church of Christ, and
representing preachers past and present, I ask my Jewish and black and brown
neighbors for forgiveness for these sins.
In the
context of the Holy Land today, we are also no strangers to strict binaries
like “night and day”, or “dark and light.” Everything (and everyone) in this
place seems to be divided into “us” and “them”.
 |
| Muslim and Jewish residents of Jerusalem walk inside Damascus Gate 18 November 2017 |
We speak of:
Israel or
Palestine,
East or West
Jerusalem,
Jew or Muslim,
Local or
international,
Normalizer or
freedom fighter,
Zionist
colonialist or Islamic terrorist,
West Bank
resident or West Bank settler.
These
binaries are impossible to escape. There are literally walls built to keep
everyone in their places.
So, one of
the dangers of interpreting Paul’s letter to the Thessalonians today is that it feels all too familiar. These words could
fuel and stoke the fires of division within us and among us.
But even considering
the dangers in this text, I’m still drawn to it. I’m drawn to it, because Paul’s
message speaks to the struggle of claiming one’s baptismal identity in a world
which offers so many alternatives. I
believe Paul’s message is not about casting out those who are outside our inner
circle, but is instead about casting out
from our hearts everything that opposes the light of Christ.
When Paul
says “We are children of the light and of the day”, he urges us to remember we
have been called by name and now live in the light of the Gospel—and therefore
we must never get too comfortable with the opposite.
And there is so
much that opposes the light today. There is so much bad stuff going on in the
world while we wait for Jesus to return:
Terrorists with
bombs and guns attack innocent crowds. Again.
Palestinian
homes—and entire villages—are destroyed. Again.
The world is at
the brink of nuclear war. Again.
Leaders are
elected and laws are passed which harm the poor, the elderly, and the
vulnerable. Again.
Men (and
others with power) use it to get what they want from women (and others who feel
powerless.) Again.
The longer we
must wait, the longer the night goes on, the greater the danger that we will
just get comfortable here. The longer it takes for Jesus to return, the more we
may get used to the absence of light, and start
to make our home here.
But hear
again the Good News:
You, children
of God and children of light, have been called by name!
We do not
belong to the tomb.
We do not belong
to war.
We do not
belong to white supremacy.
We do not
belong to the patriarchy.
We do not
belong to despair or desperation or cynicism.
We do not belong
to the night!
We belong to the morning.
 |
| Coffee seller in Bethlehem 19 Nov 2017 Photo by Carrie Smith |
We belong to
the taste of freshly brewed coffee,
and the smell
of newly baked bread.
We belong to the
sun rising over the Mt of Olives and rainclouds hanging over the Dome of the
Rock.
We belong to freshly
washed streets,
And the quiet
of the Old City before the tourists arrive.
We belong to
promise and possibility and resurrection!
We belong to justice
and mercy, reconciliation and wholeness!
We belong to
the day.
We belong to Christ. AMEN!
Now I admit,
it can be difficult to recall the light of day, when the night stretches on and
on.
I remember the
long nights when my son Caleb was a baby. He had a really rough first few
months, and would cry all night from colic. I walked him in countless circles around
the coffee table in our tiny seminary apartment, thinking “THIS NIGHT WILL
NEVER END!” One time, in the wee hours of the morning, I looked out the second
story window and saw a deer standing there, looking right back at me. Keep in
mind, this was the middle of the city! I had no idea deer even existed
there—and maybe he didn’t know I existed until that moment, either.
But you know
what? Every time, after one of those desperate and never-ending nights, the morning would arrive. The sun would
rise and I would look into my precious baby’s eyes and think “GOD IS SO GOOD
AND THIS BABY IS SO WONDERFUL AND HOW COULD I HAVE EVER THOUGHT ABOUT THROWING
HIM OUT THAT WINDOW?!”
Dear sisters and
brothers, we belong to the morning
light.
We belong to Easter
morning, when in great love God raised Christ from three days in the tomb. On
that great morning, death itself was defeated, and a new day dawned for the whole
world. Thanks be to God!
Yes, we are
children of this day, and of this light!
But listen: Even
children of the day have days.
We all have those days when we can’t even put on a
smile, much less put on our purple resurrection suit and walk around town. We
all have those days when we wonder, “Where is God? How long will this last?
When will things ever change for the better?”
And Paul
says: “Encourage one another and build up each other, as indeed you
are doing.”
Paul knew,
even two thousand years ago, that we can’t always be hopeful! We aren’t always dressed
for resurrection! Sometimes our breastplate of faith and helmet of hope get a
little tired looking.
And for this
reason, we need each other.
We need the
church, the community of faith, so we can remind each other that we do not belong to this mess.
This conflict
does not define us.
This world
cannot confine us.
It seems that
evil will win! And it won’t.
 |
| Morning skies over Jerusalem 19 November 2017 Photo by Carrie Smith |
It seems the
night will last forever! And it never
does.
The morning always comes.
And so, dear
friends, fellow children of the day:
Encourage
each other, and build each other up.
Sing for each
other. Pray for each other. Cook for each other.
When you see
someone getting a little too comfortable in the night, or even getting lost in
the darkness, shine the light of love and courage for them.
For the
answer to the question “Where is God?” is always, “Right here.”
And the
answer to the question, “When will Christ come again?” is always NOW.
Now is the day of his dawning.
Now is the day of resurrection.
Now Christ comes to be with us again,
in the bread and the wine.
Come one,
come all! Come as you are.
You’re dressed
perfectly for this new day.
May the peace
of God which passes all understanding keep your hearts and minds in Christ
Jesus. Amen.
Comments
Post a Comment