September 27, 2020
Lectionary 26a
Philippians 4:1-13; Matthew 21:23-32; Exodus 17:1-7
Pr. Craig Mueller
My Mind’s Made Up
I have a confession to make. My mind’s made up. Not only how I’m going to vote. But who is to blame for all the problems in the country. And what I what I think of people who vote differently than I. My mind’s made up.
After all, I’m overwhelmed by the pandemic, by racial injustice, by the grand jury decision in Louisville, by the brokenness of the criminal justice system, by protests that don’t bring about change, by a country torn apart by ideology. I’m overwhelmed with what is happening to our earth, by our inability to make changes for future generations, by our short-sightedness.
I join the Israelites in the wilderness: complaining, murmuring, lamenting, grumbling. And wondering if the Lord is really among us, or not?
It’s easy to think that divisiveness, partisanship, hatred, bigotry and stupid human behavior is the sign of our times, rather than a part of the human story, a marker of the human condition.
The early Christian community at Philippi shatters these illusions if we imagine them holding hands and singing “they’ll know we are Christians by our love.” Rather, they also knew tension, struggle, division. There also dealt with power plays like we see today. How else could Paul exhort them to be of one mind? To put others in line ahead of you? To seek the common good rather than your own ambition?
This past week we grieved the death of Lutheran pastor, Robert Graetz, who was the only white clergyperson to support the Montgomery Bus Boycott in 1955. Because of his faith, he sought to change the minds of others. He called it a spiritual movement. "In Montgomery, it was black Christians teaching white Christians how to be Christian, Graetz said.
Many of us also deeply grieve the loss of Ruth Bader Ginsburg. Yesterday Amy Coney Barrett referred to the unlikely friendship between Ginsburg and Antonin Scalia. Maybe you heard the story of a time when Scalia brought RBG two dozen roses on her birthday. When one of Scalia’s clerks asked him how he could do this in light of Ruth never giving him the vote he needed on a 5-4 case of any significance, Scalia replied: “some things are more important than votes.”
Don’t get me wrong. We need to be bold. We need to speak out for justice, especially for the poor and those left behind. But nothing will be accomplished if we do so with hatred and arrogance. And the inability to listen. As Abraham Lincoln said in another frightful time, “We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory will swell when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature.”
As progressives, we pride ourselves on being open-minded. Yet are we? Certainly we need to witness in the public sphere but what happens when everything becomes politicized, even our faith? Surely our hope is in something more than politics alone.
As our country faces another bruising battle over a supreme court justice; as many worry whether the upcoming election could break America; as we prepare to discuss the fair tax and other difficult issues, as we prepare to rally, canvass and protest and vote; as we prepare to face the fearful difficult weeks and months, these are not easy words to hear. Most of us would rather be fired up to become more radicalized, rather than heed Paul’s words: be of one mind. Empty yourself. Look to needs of others before your own.
There is a crisis of authority today and in today’s gospel. The religious authorities are baffled by the one called Jesus who has no patience for smooth-talking religion without deeds of mercy. The son held up in the parable is the one who first says no—but then changes his mind and goes to work in the vineyard. The son who had the humility to change his mind, and do what was asked, is the exemplary one.
Then Jesus gives a zinger to those whose minds are made up, the so-called religious ones: prostitutes and tax collectors are in line before you. The very people we deplore, the very people that yank our chain, the very people who seem so unworthy, are in line before us. Not the powerful, not the rich, not the most outspoken, but those who know their need for God.
Oh, if that doesn’t make you want to fall on your knees, and cry “Lord, have mercy,” I don’t know what will.
Thomas Merton said we must passionately confront injustice—in ourselves. If we are open to the Spirit, we have to claim our share for the divisiveness and hateful spewing across social media, in the press, at protests, among families. No wonder these words of Martin Luther King, Jr. seem so right for our time as well as the late 1960s:
I want to be on your right or your left side, not in terms of some political kingdom or ambition. But I just want to be there in love and in justice and in truth and in commitment to others, so that we can make of this old world a new world.
There is a story of a young Hasidic man who marries a woman whose family had assimilated to the surrounding culture. The marriage does not last, and the father-in-law throws the young man out. Since his strict religious community had rejected him because he married outside his people, he has nowhere to go. And he dies in a gutter.
The next scene is the last judgement. The young man stands before the Messiah and all the characters ask for judgment. Who is responsible for the young man’s death? It seems like everyone’s mind is closed! The father-in-law says: “It’s not my fault; I consulted with my rabbi.” The rabbi says: “It’s not my fault; it’s here in the law.”
The Messiah then says: “The father-in-law is right. The rabbi is right. The law is right. But I have come for those who are not right.” And he gathers up the young man in his arms and carries him into the kingdom.
For us, Jesus is the one who comes to save us from ourselves, from our disdain for those on the other side, those we believe are not right.
Have this mind among yourselves, Paul says. In other words, put on the mind of Christ. The one who empties himself, who humbles himself. The one who lived not for himself but for the sake of others, those most in need, even those who hated, scorned and crucified him.
With fear and trembling, as Paul writes, open your hearts and minds to this salvation. Walk forward in faith, not knowing what the next months will bring. For God comes among us near this day. For us, the rock that Moses strikes is Christ. The living water of baptism gushes forth. You are not alone. God’s joy is complete, to tweak Paul a bit. Christ empowers us to be of the same mind, to have the same love, to be of full accord. When all seems hopeless, remember the promise: a new day is dawning.
And this leads to doxology, to thanksgiving, to praise. The One humbled is exalted. This Christ Jesus is our hope, our salvation, our freedom, our source of unity. Together we confess him as Lord, to the glory of God. On this—the foundation of our faith—our mind is made up. May our hearts follow as well.