Click to hear this sermon sermon070121

Luke 10: 25-37

A couple years ago, Sharon and I took a vacation sales deal down in West Virginia. If we listened to a two hour sales pitch, we could stay four nights at a resort in the mountains. We had a great time, and we dutifully reported for our sales tour. The salesman was very personable, and we enjoyed hearing about the planned development, to be carved into the mountainside. We actually discussed trying to buy one of the parcels for sale there, which, it turned out, we didn't do.

I don't know if this is what turned us off, but it may have been part of it - when he said something like the following. "Of course, the price of the lots, and the gate at the front, tend to keep out some of the people we don't want in here." I'm not sure what the expression was on our faces, but they were something that made him feel he needed to add a little more: "You know what I mean," he said. "Different people."

A few years back, a New York City rabbi named Jennifer Krause wrote about what it was like to live in her Manhattan neighborhood. She wrote of her meaningful conversations with her building superintendent - a man from Columbia. Then there was her grocer, Ali, a devout Muslim from Bangladesh. They remarked about how interesting that in many places, a Muslim and a Jew, would be enemies. A man who came to work on her intercom system was a Ukrainian from Israel. She wrote that after 9-11, people in her neighborhood became more intentional about sharing their stories and their heritage with one another. You could sense the richness that this diversity added to her life.

I can't help but contrast the very different views of neighborhood in these two stories. For the salesman from West Virginia, building up a neighborhood meant being with people like himself. You strived to protect your neighborhood from 'those people' who are different from you. The fact that he used that idea as part of his sales pitch indicates to me that that was exactly what many people were looking for - that was one of his selling points. We got a gate; we'll keep 'those people' out.

Rabbi Krause, on the other hand, rejoiced in 'those people.' The fact that her neighbors were from different places, different ethnicities, different religions - this was a great source of joy for her.

As so often happens, both views might find support in the Bible. There were, for example, times in the Old Testament when keeping the neighborhood pure was a strong priority. Usually it was during times of great national stress or calamity. In response to such an occasion, a teacher might say that the people of Israel need to retreat from others - purify the race. Our version of that might be to put up a gate, and keep those different from us at a difference. Many people are very comfortable with that idea.

But, for everything I see, that is a very small exclusive part of biblical teaching.

Vastly more prevalent is the view that God loves diversity. God's neighborhood plan is closer to Rabbi Krause's - a rich mixture of people of all kinds. Where would you look to justify that view? First of all, look at the abundance of diversity in creation. In Genesis 1, we read how God says, "Let the waters bring forth swarms of living creatures..." And then he blesses all the many kinds of life that covers the earth, sea, and sky. God loves diversity.

We see diversity woven into God's plan of salvation. Rabbi Krause uses Exodus 12: 38 to make her point. In that story, we are told that when God freed the Hebrew slaves from the iron hold of Pharaoh in Egypt, 600,000 Israelite adults were in that great throng that crossed over into freedom. This has been seen as a great historical moment of formation for the Jewish race. The Hebrew people in that number were all seen as descendants of Abraham - the ones specially chosen under God's covenant. We picture one united people, of one race, traveling together in a great mass.

But then verse 38 adds something that we easily overlook: "A mixed crowd also went up with them..." Who were these others that were also included in God's great act of salvation? Rabbi Krause wonders - could it be her Columbian super, or her Muslim grocer, or her Ukrainian repairman? We picture that mob of freed slaves as one big homogeneous group - but really it was a diverse group - a 'mixed crowd.'

And then we come to the teachings of Jesus. We come, in fact, to one of the most well-known and little practiced teachings of Jesus - the parable of the Good Samaritan. You know the story Jesus told: a man was traveling on the road between Jerusalem and Jericho. Thieves attacked him and left him for dead. A priest and a Levite see him, and move to the other side of the road to pass him by. But a Samaritan stops, and pours out his care upon the man, going far beyond the call of duty, probably saving the man's life.

What is essential to know is that the telling of this story by Jesus began with a key question: "Who is my neighbor?" And a key ingredient to the story is that the ones who were most closely related to the injured man - the ones of his race and kind and nation - passed him by. Left him to die. Of course, it is an extra vexation to me that they happened to be clergy as well. Jesus obviously wanted religious leaders to think doubly hard about this story. But here's the main point - when Jesus asked, "Which one of these do you think proved to be neighbor to the man?" it wasn't his own kin, his own kind. It was the much-hated Samaritan - the one on the other side of the gate.

Isn't it clear that the Lord wants to break down the dividing walls? Isn't it clear that God loves diversity, and intends that our lives will be enriched by our differences?

We are so thankful that two years in a row, we could host the Golden Gates musical group from St. Petersburg, Russia. They have blessed us deeply. Last night's program of Russian music was stunning, and appreciated by everybody here. But one man's remarks will stick with me. He said, "You know, for most of my life, this program would not have been possible. I am so happy that I am alive to see this day." What a joy to be able to celebrate Russian neighbors and friends. Aren't we all blessed to be alive to see this day? These last two days have reminded me of an expression I heard once: "All people smile in the same language." When we build gates to keep ourselves away from the 'different people,' we lose so much of the richness of life.

It even goes deeper than that. As someone has said, "Whenever we draw a line to exclude somebody, Jesus walks over to the other side." I believe we see that again and again in his life. I don't believe Jesus started out that way. But by the time he was done, he had the widest view of his 'neighborhood' that we could possibly imagine.

You may recall that this sermon is part of a series about spiritual life in the suburbs -

which is certainly the lifestyle we share around here. One of the things we have to watch out for here in the 'burbs' is the tendency to homogeneity - to sameness. When I was growing up there was a popular song about the suburbs that went, "Little boxes on a hillside/ little boxes made out of ticky-tacky/ little boxes, little boxes, and they all look just the same." That might be a description of some of the neighborhoods we live in. But it's not about the houses, so much as it is about the people and the lifestyle. There are many exceptions, of course, but the fact is, ethnic and racial diversity is often hard to come by in the suburbs. As I read background material for these sermons, I ran across the expression more than once: White, middle-class suburbia. And our church certainly tends to reflect that.

How important it is, then, that we intentionally resist gating ourselves in. How important it is that we stay aware of the wider world, and the vast and beautiful scope of humankind as God created us. How important it is that we work to break down barriers I of fear, that we learn from those who are different than we are, that we celebrate diversity .

So, here's a conversation that you may not realize took place outside Noah's Ark: "Not sure I want to go aboard if the leopard's coming too; he's spots, I'm stripes," the tiger growled, and cuffed the kangaroo./ "Quit fighting, will you, bullies," said a frightened marmoset. "We all are seeking safety from the elemental threat."/ The hare harrumphed, "You slowpoke," but the turtle said to him, "The only thing that's relevant is whether you can swim."/ The egret, "White supremacy!" "Black power," cawed the crow. "Right wing, left wing," the eagle shrieked, and tottered to and fro./ But when the sky grew heavy and the clouds were dark and dire, concerning wolfish politics the lamb did not inquire/ Differences and opinions seemed to matter not at all. They hurried up the gangplank when the drops began to fall.