Jesus and the Disinherited, Part 4: Hate
Service of Worship
Eastern Parkway United Methodist
Church
May 23, 2021
Rev. Natalie Bowerman, Pastor
Let us
pray:
Come, Holy
Spirit,
and comfort those who grieve.
Grant them
the peace that only you can bring.
Stir within us a trust in life beyond death,
as we ponder the mysteries of Christ’s resurrection
and the hope we have in new and everlasting life.
Come, Holy
Spirit,
and bring wholeness to the sick.
Strengthen
those who are weak;
heal the wounded and broken;
give rest to the weary.
Come, Holy
Spirit,
and inspire our warring world to seek peace,
to love our enemies,
to put away our weapons,
to remember the price paid for our freedom,
to care for those who have served.
Come, Holy
Spirit,
and ignite a fire in our bones,
a passion for justice that cannot be quenched
until all of your children are loved,
until no one is marginalized or oppressed,
until everyone has the opportunity to thrive,
until the world is transformed and renewed.
Come, Holy
Spirit,
and revive your church.
Liberate us
from complacency and apathy;
inspire us with Christ’s vision for a world reborn;
help us to recognize our gifts for ministry
and to use them in service of others;
transform our hearts and our minds;
fill us with love that overflows;
remind us that there is no greater calling
than to love you with all that we are
and to love our neighbors as ourselves.
Gracious
God,
give us a glimpse of your kingdom
emerging around us
and drawing us into the new things
you are doing in the world.
It is for
your kingdom that we now pray,
filled with your Spirit,
using the words Jesus taught us.
Our Mother,
Father, Creator God, who art in heaven, hallowed be they name. Thy Kingdom
come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily
bread, and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against
us. Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For thine is the
Kingdom, and the Power, and the Glory forever, Amen.
Acts 2:
1-21
The Holy
Spirit Comes at Pentecost
2 When the day of Pentecost came,
they were all together in one place. 2 Suddenly
a sound like the blowing of a violent wind came from heaven and filled the
whole house where they were sitting. 3 They saw
what seemed to be tongues of fire that separated and came to rest on each of
them. 4 All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and
began to speak in other tongues[a] as the Spirit enabled them.
5 Now there were staying in Jerusalem
God-fearing Jews from every nation under heaven. 6 When
they heard this sound, a crowd came together in bewilderment, because each one
heard their own language being spoken. 7 Utterly
amazed, they asked: “Aren’t all these who are speaking Galileans? 8 Then
how is it that each of us hears them in our native language? 9 Parthians,
Medes and Elamites; residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and
Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia,[b] 10 Phrygia and
Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya near Cyrene; visitors from
Rome 11 (both Jews and converts to Judaism);
Cretans and Arabs—we hear them declaring the wonders of God in our own
tongues!” 12 Amazed and perplexed, they asked one
another, “What does this mean?”
13 Some, however, made fun of them and
said, “They have had too much wine.”
Peter
Addresses the Crowd
14 Then Peter stood up with the Eleven,
raised his voice and addressed the crowd: “Fellow Jews and all of you who live
in Jerusalem, let me explain this to you; listen carefully to what I say. 15 These
people are not drunk, as you suppose. It’s only nine in the morning! 16 No,
this is what was spoken by the prophet Joel:
17 “‘In the last days, God says,
I will pour out my Spirit on all people.
Your sons and daughters will prophesy,
your young men will see visions,
your old men will dream dreams.
18 Even on my servants, both men and women,
I will pour out my Spirit in those days,
and they will prophesy.
19 I will show wonders in the heavens above
and signs on the earth below,
blood and fire and billows of smoke.
20 The sun will be turned to darkness
and the moon to blood
before the coming of the great and glorious day of the
Lord.
21 And everyone who calls
on the name of the Lord will be saved.’[c]
A Message
“Jesus
and the Disinherited, Part 4: Hate”
Friends, we’re
now up to part 4 of this 5 part sermon series based on Jesus and the
Disinherited by Howard Thurman. We’re learning more each week about the
heart of Jesus, the man we follow, and emulate, as we become more and more
committed to discipleship. The first week of this series, we learned that Jesus
is the vine off of which we grow, the source of all that nourishes us, and the
protector from all that would harm us. The second week we learned that Jesus is
our protector from the things we fear, and that he prepares us to fight back
against the oppressive forces that terrorize our neighbors. Last week, we
learned that Jesus is our voice of truth, and that he equips us with strength
and bravery to face the oppressor with sincerity. The title of this week’s
chapter is “hate”. What is hatred in the world, where does it come from, how
does it stir up within us, and what does Jesus do about it?
As a
devoutly nonviolent theologian Thurman naturally has much to say about this subject,
but before I even made my outline for this week’s sermon I had something else
stuck in the back of my mind—a prayer penned by Thurman that’s in our hymnal on
page 401, titled “For Holiness of Heart.”
Lord, I want to be more holy in my
heart.
Here is the citadel of all my
desiring, where my hopes are born, and all the deep resolutions of my spirit take
wings.
In this center, my fears are
nourished, and all my hates are nurtured.
Here my loves are cherished, and all
the deep hungers of my spirit are honored without quivering and without shock.
In my heart, above all else, let love
and integrity envelop me until my love is perfected and the last vestige of my
desiring is no longer in conflict with thy Spirit.
Lord, I want to be more holy in my
heart.
So, first
thing: if you were curious what I meant when I said Thurman was a mystic, I
meant that. That kind of prayer is what mysticism is all about, the kind of
spirituality that invites you to join hearts with the Divine. This mystical
liberation theology is one that brings your heart right next to Jesus’, changes
its shape, and then gives it back to you so that you, a transformed person, can
go soften the hearts of others and create a just world. You hear that quite
radiantly in that one prayer, and I’ve used it in worship too many times to
count over the last nine years of my ministry because I love the message so
much.
Still, there’s
a few turns in that prayer that always catch me off guard, so much that I often
adlib and change it a bit while I’m reciting it. “In this center…my hates are
nurtured.” I’ve always liked to think I know what he really means by that, but I’ve
often worried that if I say that line as written you might mistakenly think
that Thurman is asking God to grow his hatred, and often I soften the language
and say “wounds” or “hurt” instead.
But this
chapter, “Hate”, really highlights what Thurman meant in a line like that.
Not a single
one of us will want to admit this out loud, and especially not in a church, but
we all are inclined to hate things, and even people. We have to significantly
undress our public self-representation in order to admit that, so we won’t, and
that’s mostly ok. We want to walk around with a visible “live and let live”
attitude, it’s a far easier way to make friends. But Thurman breaks down the
psychology behind the feeling of hatred, and helps us understand that we get
there because it’s a form of self-protection. It doesn’t make you evil to have
feelings of hatred. It makes you human, and vulnerable.
Thurman also
breaks down that it’s not a lack of love that creates hatred, it’s a lack of
relationship. Hatred happens when we get put in a situation where we’re facing
a person categorically different from us, and we don’t get to establish any
kind of bond or human understanding. Our deeper desire to do that for anyone
gets disrupted by some outside force interceding. The example that Thurman uses
is one that was very timely for him: during World War 2 Americans were taught
to hate the Axis Powers. It was the only way we could tolerate the violence of
war. When you have to go out with weapons prepared to kill someone, telling
yourself they’re the enemy and you hate them protects you. If you dehumanize
the person you’re prepared to kill then that hatred preserves your belief that
you’re a generally good and altruistic person, you’re just doing what you are
because the circumstances require it. Hatred even lets you say that you’re
prepared to harm another person because if you didn’t then they would harm you.
Hatred works so well because the messages it tells you are half right, so they
stick.
Thurman helps
us see how easy it is to dehumanize someone who’s different from you, even when
that person is your neighbor. Classism makes the dehumanization even easier, as
do sexism and racism. Our inclinations toward hatred make the oppressors’ job a
lot easier. A person who wants to hoard power and wealth will teach us to be
distrusting of one another. A person with that goal will walk up to a jar with
one hundred cookies in it and will take 99 of them. Then when you take the only
cookie left, they’ll convince you to watch your back because that “welfare
queen” over there is going to steal your cookie! You learn to stereotype, dehumanize,
and hate people of color, poor people, and women. And you justify it because,
in your mind, you’re defending your livelihood. People in those groups fear you
because of how you look at them and how you treat them, and they start wishing
you harm because of it. We all fight with one another, and the person who
started it all in the first place is just sitting back and enjoying his
cookies.
Jesus was
fully human, and, in my understanding of him, not immune to this plot. He
voiced his woes, he pleaded and cried to be spared of the cross, he flipped
over tables in the Temple and chased people with a whip, and he cried out on
the cross that his God had abandoned him. Jesus knew the dark side of human
nature. He knew what it meant to fear, to dehumanize, and then to hate. But he
restrained himself from that path out of an abundance of wisdom that that wasn’t
the right way. Hatred wouldn’t help him, it wouldn’t help his friends and
neighbors, and it wouldn’t bring about the Kingdom of God. Something much
smarter and stronger would do that.
In the
Gospel of Matthew Jesus teaches us to be wise as serpents but gentle as doves,
because we go out into the world like sheep among wolves. Be aware of
oppression. Name it, know what you’re up against, and figure out the source.
Knowledge is power. In Jesus’ time and place, finding the source of his peoples’
oppression wasn’t that hard. Rome occupied Palestine and made life miserable
for Jesus’ neighbors. But I argue that Jesus went much deeper than that in
calling out and naming sources of oppression. He was no fan of the Roman Empire,
but he also took notice of those around him who found a small foothold of power
and ran with it, even supporting Rome and betraying their neighbor for their
own self-interest. Tax collectors functioned like this, and Jesus encouraged tax
collectors like Zacchaeus to apologize and make amends for their behavior. The
Pharisees operated like this, and Jesus confronted them over and over for their
self-serving hypocrisy. He never hurt anyone, and he refused to let his
followers resort to violence even though a violent overthrow of Rome was
precisely what they wanted and expected from Jesus. But violence stems from
hate, and Jesus refused to go down that road. When you hate someone who hurts
you, even when your thoughts and actions feel very justified, you help them
hurt you even more. In the immortal words of Maya Angelou, “Hate: it’s caused a
lot of problems but it hasn’t solved a single one yet.”
Jesus
invites us to reject hatred and help that which we find within us morph into
something better. This, I think, is what Thurman meant in that prayer when he
said “In this center…all my hates are nurtured.” The way to heal yourself of
hatred is to invite God to mend the pain that caused you to start hating in the
first place. And then you heal the world after you’ve healed yourself, and that
happens through taking accountability and making amends for our actions, and
then restoring the humanity of those we once hated by building the relationship
that got broken in the first place. Our hearts were meant for love.
This is the
core message of Pentecost. People from many lands have come to Jerusalem and
are gathered around the Temple, but, despite their shared Jewish identity, fear
one another, and could become military enemies at any time. They have no
fellowship, no relationship, no love. Then the Holy Spirit breaks through those
human made walls and suddenly the disciples become bilingual and compelled to
start saying new words. But enmity toward someone you don’t know is a hard
thing to shake, and the most cynical witnesses accuse the disciples of day
drinking. It’s easier for some to believe that getting drunk enables you to
start speaking fluent Arabic than to believe that God is capable of bringing us
back together.
Whose
language do you need to learn today? Who have you never dared to share a
conversation with? Who has the curtain of hatred veiled you from seeing as a
person? Who do you fear? How can God nourish your fear and nurture your hate?
And how can
we help one another? How can we act to hold one another accountable for what we’ve
done wrong so that our neighbors who hide behind fear and resentment can feel
safe to come out from behind those walls? What do we need to do to rebuild those
relationships so that we can rebuild the Kingdom? Jesus is eager to help.
Amen.
I invite
you to receive the benediction:
Go out into
God’s world filled with the spark of the Holy Spirit. Let love guide your
actions. Listen for the Spirit of Truth. Spread the peace of Christ and remind
everyone you meet that they are a beloved child of God. Amen.
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