Romans 12-13 Church and State

Reading: Romans 12:8-13:14

On Monday and Tuesday, the Southern Baptists held their annual convention and passed a resolution on migrant children being separated from their parents. On Wednesday, the Catholic bishops issued a very similar statement. On Thursday, Jeff Sessions spoke at Fort Wayne Indiana, and spend a good deal of his time offering a rebuttal to these statements based on a few verses in Romans 13. I don’t appreciate government officials arguing that our faith needs altering to fit the political needs of our government.

Of course, these statements and the rebuttal didn’t come out of nowhere. In May, Jeff Sessions announced a zero-tolerance policy that would separate children from their parents. Since the beginning of May 2000 children have been taken away. Right now we have over 10,000 children in custody, and the few reports we have of the conditions that these children are held in telling us that it is unacceptable. There really isn’t enough information, to tell details but there is enough to know that this is deliberate cruelty.

Unwarranted family separation is traumatic to both children and their parents. Last week, I heard the story of Marco Antonio Muñoz who died in custody on May 13. This was a father who entered in the US at a place where people often come to ask for Asylum. When he and his wife came, they were separated from their 3-year-old child and the family was broken up and detained. He was distraught, as you might imagine, he was considered an unruly prisoner, and we are told that he committed suicide while in custody. Remember, it is not illegal to ask for asylum. This family was broken up, and a distressed father died over something that is completely legal.

This is father’s day, and because two thousand children were taken due to an arbitrary decision, hundreds of fathers are facing the same distress that Marco Antonio faced. Nobody makes the decision to leave home and start a new life in a new country lightly. People leave because they are desperate to find a place that is safe for their kids. We have rules that allow people to ask for a safe place to live for a reason and, what we are looking at is children being used as a weapon to punish parents for asking.

I was not surprised by these statements, nor was I surprised that they made the news. There are about 16 million Southern Baptists in the United States, and over 1 in 5 Americans are Catholic. Such religious groups are large enough that whenever they make statements, the statements make the news. I was deeply surprised, however, when Jeff Sessions decided to offer a rebuttal to “our church friends”, where he cited scripture and attempted to argue against these statements. I am deeply concerned that a government authority felt it was necessary to critique the theological views of Church leaders and suggest that we interpret scripture differently. Specifically, he suggested that Romans 13:1-7 means that we are to support what the government does as God’s will, because God ordained the government, and he recommends that churches support his policy.

An attorney General has broad authority to direct federal law enforcement policy, but zero authority to talk about church teaching. He has no standing to tell us that the positions of our Church are unbiblical, but the challenge is made. Jeff Sessions, speaking in the role of Attorney General, found a passage of scripture where Paul tells us to obey the government because the government does God’s work. Because of this, we must struggle with the question of which interpretation is valid: that of Christian scholars or a government official. Does Romans 13 mean that what the government does is God’s will and it is the place of the Christian to accept it, and not to criticize it?

The belief that Christians should always support the actions of the government is antithetical to the stories that we tell each other. One example I grew up with is the story published in Corrie ten Boom’s book The Hiding Place which tells the story of a family who felt that a law was unjust, and so they built a hidden room where they hid people who were illegally evading arrest and they helped them escape the government. The Ten Boom family was eventually caught, arrested, and most of them died in a prison camp. Corrie ten Boon survived and traveled the world telling the story about how they worked to save Jews from the Nazis, she wrote a book in 1971 that sold 6 million copies before a movie was released in 1975.

If we accept that Romans 13 means that what the government does is God’s will, and the church has no right to criticize, then we believe that Corrie ten Boom was disobedient to God when she and her family saved Jews from the Nazis. Everybody I know celebrates the courage of the ten Boon family. I was privileged to go to her house in Harlaam Netherlands, and to see the secret room where Jews were hidden. I know we don’t believe that Romans 13 means that what the Nazis did was God’s will because I hear Christians celebrating Corrie ten Boom.

If we look back in our own history, we see that we don’t believe that everything the government does is right. I’m sure that everybody knows the name Levi Coffin. Levi Coffin, like Corrie ten Boom worked to smuggle people to safety against the laws of the government. Coffin was part of the network of the Underground Railroad that helped escaped slaves find freedom and safety in Canada, and in his memoir, he estimates that he helped about 3000 people escape and that he never heard of any who passed through his home being caught. The Levi Coffin house is now a museum that is less than an hour’s drive from us; so if anybody wants to see what it looks like to hide fugitives from an oppressive government, we can go to the Coffin house in Fountain City.

Christian history does not allow us to interpret Romans 13 as God’s blank check to the government. Our heritage is one of being an illegal people. If we look at Quaker history, Friends are one of the groups that might be described as a free church. Free churches are all denominational groups who rejected the idea of a state church. Governments passed laws banning free churches from meeting. Attending a Baptist, or a Quaker or a Mennonite church was, in much of Europe illegal. Quakers and other nonconformists were imprisoned and even killed both in the old world and the new world because of laws that established a state church and forbid other denominations. The very existence of our church depends on an interpretation of Romans 13, other than blind obedience to the government.

If I go back further in Christian history to the time when the Bible was being written, I see some other issues. The first issue I see is Acts 5, where Peter is commanded to stop speaking by the authorities. Peter did not say: “I must obey men rather than God”, but instead he continued to preach and face arrest. The Christian message was only spread through disobedience to authorities.

As Christianity spread, there were several laws that they habitually broke. Laws were passed that forbid them to meet together, but they met together and scripture commands that they do not forsake meeting together. Laws were passed that required Christians to sacrifice to Caesar, and say Caesar is Lord — Christians refused, and those who would not refuse were kicked out of the church. Laws were passed calling on people to take part in community life, including civil sacrifice and idol worship — Christians refused to take part, disobeying the law. If Romans 13 were interpreted to mean that we support the government in all things, there would be no Christianity anywhere. All Christians have the heritage of being an illegal people, and we should remember when we were illegals.

Finally, consider the context of Romans itself. Romans 13:1-7 is not isolated, but comes in a section of scripture that talks about Christian’s relationship with society. This section includes Romans 12 as well as Romans 13. The argument that what the government does is God’s will, and should not be questioned by Christians depends on reading Romans 13:1-7 in isolation of their context. Even if we do not know not remember the audience of the book were an illegal people in Nero’s Rome, we see that the words preceding and following what was quoted leave no room for blindly following governments.

Romans 12 begins by telling us not to be conformed to this world. Paul is not telling the Christians to be good Romans who treat Nero’s every word as God’s law, he is calling them to non-conformity. The rest of chapter 12 talks about compassion and humility. The last part of chapter 12 gives many quotes from the sermon on the mount, ending with the words:

If your enemies are hungry, feed them; if they are thirsty, give them something to drink; for by doing so you will heap burning coals on their heads. Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good. (Romans 12:20-21 NRSV)

Romans 13 continues to give a hint to the limits of the command to obey the government immediately after the section that is quoted. Paul moves from talking about why we should pay taxes and respect the authority of governing authorities to quoting Jesus saying:

The commandments, “You shall not commit adultery; you shall not murder; you shall not steal; you shall not covet” and any other commandment, are summed up in this word, “Love your neighbor as yourself”. Love does no wrong to a neighbor; therefore love is the fulfilling of the law.

We are not called to conform, nor to let the world tell us what is right. It is true that we are called to pay our taxes, but above that we are called to live according to the law of love, to take care of those who need help (including enemies) and to do nothing to harm our neighbors. You need to stop reading at the correct place or you realize that Paul does not recognize the legitimacy of laws that require harming another person. Is it loving to rip children from parents who committed no crime but simply came to ask for refuge? In Romans 12 Christians are called to offer hospitality to those who need it. Does this policy harm a neighbor, yes it harms a neighbor. By Paul’s logic, by our nation’s laws, and by all that is right in the world, what is being done is illegal.

What are we to do? What Paul wrote at the end of Romans 13 is good advice, and I will end my message with the words of scripture:

You know what time it is, how it is now the moment for you to wake from sleep. Salvation is nearer to us now than when we became believers; the night is far gone, the day is near. Let us then lay aside the works of darkness and put on the armor of light; let us live honorably as in day, not reveling and drunkenness, not in debauchery and licentiousness, not in quarreling and jealousy. Instead, put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh, to gratify its desires. (Romans 13:11-14 NRSV)


Whatever you did to the least of these

My church, Raysville Friends, has had a relationship with Iglesia Amigos from the time when it was only an idea.  One of our members was part of the planning committee for the church plant.  On May 3, I and others accompanied Sonia to a routine check-in, where she was taken into custody and transferred to a holding facility in Brazil, IN.    I suggest reading the words of her pastor, Carlos Moran:

Today we have lost one of the pillars, she was one of the founding members of our church. Sonia is very special, one of the best sisters. She was generous, she gave her time and her money to contribute with any project we had going on in our church. She was always present she rarely missed a service unless she was severely ill or out of town. She did not only say she loved her church, her life said so. At church we sing a song that speaks about the poor widow who gave everything she had, Sonia did not only sing the song she was that poor widow, she embodied that women Jesus noticed at the temple. Sonia will not only be missed by her family and her church, she will also be missed by the community around her. She raised funds for other members of the community who had been deported, she provided child care for other children; one child in particular is the child of a single father. That father told her the day before she reported to her check in: what am I going to do with my daughter if you are deported, who will watch her as I work. Sonia was always volunteering or helping someone in her community, whether it was through Faith in Indiana, helping clean the church building or running an errand for a friend, she was always there to help. Sonia was one of those persons that embodied God first, God second, God third, and God always because of that she gave herself fully to her brothers and sisters who bear the image of God, her family, her church and her community. We know that Sonia sometimes would go with out in order to help another person, and for that reason we are now willing to go with out to help her and her family. People can come and go but this absence will truly be missed, simply because her life said to God here I am Lord use me. The blessings we received through her life is prove that God is real and good, we have truly experience the presence of God through her life.

This is morally wrong, this is what hate looks like. Children coming home from school and a father struggling to tell them that their mother is behind bars and that she will only be released in El Salvador. This is the work of the devil, to divide and right now he must feel victorious as yet again a family has been ripped apart, as yet again the church has lost one their pillars as yet again a light has been shut down in the community. I am praying that on the day of judgement God will have mercy on this country, I am calling my brothers and sister to repent because we have done wrong and the children are the ones suffering. It is still time to remember Jesus words: ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’ We still have time to repent before the King tells us: Depart from me,you who are cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. — Carlos Moran, Pastor Iglesia Amigos (Indianapolis)

Sonia’s children are born in the United States, and are American citizens, but they will either seek asylum in El Salvador, or they risk becoming wards of the state.  This is a case that affects my Church community, however there are many similar cases, and the number of such cases will only grow as people who had status under TPS or DACA lose their status.

As Carlos Moran said “This is what hate looks like”, hate makes American citizens into political refugees who must grow up in a foreign country.  A go fund me account has been made to help with expenses related to Sonia’s detention, likely including funds to help the children resettle in El Salvador.

Holy Week

One thing that I noticed this year is that Jesus was just asking to be arrested;  Holy week started with a public proclamation that Jesus was the king of the Jews.  This would have drawn the attention of Rome and Herod.  Next thing we see, Jesus caused a scene in the temple, driving out those who were selling animals and changing money; this would have invited the attention of temple security and the Sanhedrin.

Remarkably, nobody arrested Jesus when he created these very public disturbances. Perhaps the authorities were afraid that confronting Jesus in the open would create a riot, but when the Temple guards arrested Jesus they did so at night time, when Jesus had gone off by himself with just a few friends.

What stands out to me most of all, however is the trials.  The Sanhedrin, of course, calls for Jesus’ death; according to John’s gospel, many of them had already decided to make Jesus a scapegoat, because they were afraid that Rome would take away their authority due to unrest — and that an execution would ease the tension between Rome and Judea; there were also the charges of blasphemy, and the fact that Jesus said some rather unpleasant things about the religious leaders of His day.

The Sanhedrin did not have the power to enact the death penalty, so they turned Jesus over to Pilate, with the charge that he claimed to be the king of the Jews; something that was true, as of Palm Sunday, and that Rome should find interesting.  Pilate sent Jesus to Herod, the king of the Galileans, somebody who would be personally threatened by the king of the Jews — and this is where it gets interesting.

Herod was more curious than afraid; Herod had heard of Jesus and he wanted to see a miracle.  Herod Antipas was not like his father who killed the children of Bethlehem over a rumor.  Herod was not afraid of Jesus, and when Jesus didn’t perform for Herod, he sent Herod back to Pilate.

In the trial before Pilate, Pilate questioned Jesus, and he again did not find Jesus’ kingdom a threat to Rome’s power.  In John’s gospel, Jesus tells Pilate that his kingdom is another place — perhaps, like Herod, Pilate has heard rumors of the revolutionary who speaks of the kingdom of heaven, while telling people to pay their taxes to Rome.  Perhaps Pilate thought of Jesus as a Platonist, speaking of himself as the King of the Kingdom of Ideals — a place where there was justice and peace.

No matter what Pilate thought, he saw no threat in Jesus — it was the threat that the Sanhedrin would go over his head and report that he ignored a revolutionary that brought him to order the Crucifixion of Jesus.

I find it remarkable that some of Jesus’ own disciples were looking forward to a revolution and fighting Rome to either a glorious victory, or a glorious death.  No matter how much Jesus said to them, they never quite understood.  How was it that Herod Antipas and Pilate could understand what Jesus’ disciples could not?  Why were the political powers able to see that the kingdom of Heaven had no desire to establish itself as a political kingdom of this world?

I don’t think Herod and Pilate accepted the kingdom of heaven; I don’t think they wanted any part of it — I think they saw a living Messiah who called for a revolution of hearts and minds, rather than one of swords as a far less dangerous messiah than those who were eager to die fighting Rome.  They may not have accepted the gospel, but they knew that the gospel was not calling for their death.

Luke 10:25-37: Who is my Samaritan?

Reading: Luke 10:25-37

This is not the first time I’ve spoken on the Samaritans. When we went through John, I spoke about where the Samaritans came from and their rivalry with the people of Judah.  I don’t think it is necessary to go into so much detail as we have in the past but, I will say that the people of Judah had an irrational hatred for Samaritans. Hate was somehow built into the culture and it had been building since they returned from the Babylonian captivity.

You might remember, my sympathy is with the Samaritans. Basically, what they did to earn the hatred was survive the Assyrian conquest, and then miss the Babylonian captivity. The grievances between Judah and Samaria come from religious arguments. Both sides accused the other of too much foreign influence, each claiming to have the better and purer understanding of God and the more correct way of worshiping God. Doubtlessly, when somebody was willing to admit Samaritans are from the stock of Israel, that would add the resentment of the kingdom splitting in two rather than reminding the children of Judah that the children of Joseph are sons of Israel, just as they are.

Of course, I don’t think the exact historical details are as important as the biases of the culture, and the person who Jesus was speaking to. Jesus said this to answer the question: “Who is my neighbor.” The question was important, because it is necessary to know who your neighbor is when interpreting the command to “love your neighbor as yourself.” The man asked, because he wanted to know who was not his neighbor.

Jesus gave an answer that surprised everybody. He told a story of a man who was robbed and left for dead, and who was ignored by the best of society; though they saw his suffering they ignored him and left him for dead. The story made clear that those who were considered authorities in the law did not always follow it, or if they did, they saw the man bleeding on the road, and they left him still bleeding. If they believed themselves to love their neighbor, they somehow did not see this man in need as a neighbor.

Then a Samaritan came, somebody who shouldn’t have even been on this road because he was not welcome. He saw the man, tended his wounds, and took him to an inn where he could recover and payed for his stay. The Samaritan was the hero of the story who not only made sure that the man was taken to a safe place, but went above and beyond what could be expected.

When Jesus asked: “Who was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers”, the response was “the one who showed him mercy.” The expert in the Law who asked “who is my neighbor” could not bear to say the word Samaritan when he said that the man who showed mercy behaved the way one should behave as a neighbor. It must have stung a little when Jesus said: “Go and do likewise.” It is a hard lesson to learn that we should be more like somebody we hate without any cause.

When the Lawyer asked “Who is my neighbor,” he sought to justify himself.  Jesus answered quite cleverly, so that the lawyer couldn’t exclude anybody. The people of Judah hated the Samaritan to the point that a respectable person like this man was unwilling to answer “Samaritan” when a story was told that painted one in a positive light. The Samaritans were, like the people of Judah, an occupied people. As much hate as there was, there was no rational reason for it. Samaria was no less occupied by Rome than Judah. The Samaritans had no real power; no real power to harm the people of Judah; they were a people who it cost nothing to hate. There was reason to hate Romans, but the Romans had power and the will to punish their enemies. Samaria had none of that.

The Samaritan showed that he loved his neighbor — the person in need, even though he was out of his country, and in a country that hated him simply because he breathed. Who is your neighbor? Clearly, the neighbor isn’t defined by feelings, nor by our bias, nor by an understanding of friends and enemies. Our neighbors are those around us, especially those who are in need. The priest and the Levite saw their neighbor, and they passed by. The Samaritan saw a person who, on any other day would most likely be hostile — but a person who was bleeding on the road, and he acted with compassion to his neighbor. Jesus told the Lawyer to act like the Samaritan, which means, be a good neighbor when there is need, even if there is hostility.

I know that I live in a nation that from the day it declared independence declared that “All men are created equal.” I’d like to say that we are much better than the people in the Bible; we are fair to everybody. We do not hate anybody without cause, but we are generous and welcoming. As much as I’d like to say that, I can’t say it without lying. I know we have always had people who have no power who we look down on and treat as enemies even though they have done nothing to us.

When I think of who our Samaritans are, one group that comes to mind are the African Americans. Many of us are old enough to remember the days before Jim Crow ended, desegregation became law, and voting rights was enforced. There were the 13th and 14th amendments that stated the black man had rights, but these words were ignored and circumvented as much as possible. I know that at least one person in this congregation knows what a sunset town is, and that there were a number of sunset towns in Indiana.

Today, I see many people complain if a black person suggests that the systems of oppression are still in place, or if he suggests that our society and our law do not value black people’s lives. I’ve seen people suggest that saying “Black lives matter” is morally equivalent, and equally hateful to belonging to the KKK. Now, I am not in a place to judge when systemic racism is a thing of the past but, I think that even when it appears to be past, it is best to listen to those who suffered under it.

Black Slavery existed in what is now the United States since the end of the 16th century, it remained legal from the time it was started until it was ended by the 13th amendment in 1665, or about 250 years of slavery. This 250 years of slavery were followed by voter suppression, segregation, and other systemic laws to make sure that the Black population was kept down until the federal government intervened in 1965; this is 350 years of slavery, silencing and oppression which only ended within the lifetime of most of the people in this room.

Considering how recently our laws have changed, even if I could see no evidence of systemic racism, I would want to give the African American community a lot of patience when they want to air their grievances. I certainly would not suggest that they were no different than the Klu-Klux Klan because they are afraid they will be treated the same way they had been treated for over three centuries.

Unfortunately, I can’t say everything is better. I see people claiming that Jim Crow never happened, that there was no voter suppression, and that congressman John Lewis does not know history when he talks about the passage of the voting rights act of 1965 because Voting rights came in the 14th amendment in 1868. John Lewis of course was at the Selma march. Lewis was clubbed in the head and his skull was fractured over voting rights; this historical event is unforgettable for him. Even worse, I see people trying to pretend slavery never happened, or that slavery was no different than when working class Europeans payed for passage to the New World by signing up for a term of labor with a scheduled end date. I see people denying the truth.

At the start of this month, which is celebrated as Black history month, the state legislature had a vote on whether or not to have a “Hate crime law;” We still don’t have one, the vote was no. Another thing that marked the start of this month was a branch of the KKK distributed recruitment fliers just a couple blocks from the state capitol at Memorial circle. We can’t pretend that racism is a thing of the past when it is right in front of our faces.

Another group that comes to mind as potential Samaritans is the indigenous people of the Americas. Our government has consistently violated treaties and broke promises. Our policy to the Native Americans was one of `removal’. A more modern word for this would be genocide. “Indians” were not guaranteed the right to vote until 1957. Even today, Native Americans suffer violence at a disproportionate rate; half of Native American women have been raped, and 80% of them have suffered some sort of violent attack. A federal court decision in 1978 decided that Native courts have no jurisdiction over non-natives. Unfortunately, this means when somebody goes on a reservation and commits a hate crime, the tribe has to rely on federal courts. Too often, it means that crimes against natives are ignored. I’ve even heard of the Navajo congressman Eric Descheenie in the Arizona State legislature hearing slurs yelled against him, and people calling him `illegal’ right at the capitol earlier this year.

I’ve observed in depictions of immigrants as dangerous and politicians saying `illegal’ while working to take away the methods of legal immigration that all of the people in anti-immigrant advertisements look a lot like my wife or my father-in-law. Their significant Native American ancestry is quite visible. This rhetoric seems to me like we want to make sure that we keep out those who look to much like those that our ancestors `removed’.

I look at White Americans, which is a group that clearly includes myself, and I realize that we have Samaritans, people who did us no harm that we hate for no good reason, and I speculate that so many of us hate because we are ashamed to admit that not everything in history is pleasant. We don’t want to admit a shameful history — and we definitely don’t want to examine ourselves and see if we are still doing the same evil things that we did in the past. I think there might be a fear that we will not be forgiven, and we will be treated the way our ancestors treated others.

Who is our neighbor? Our neighbor is our fellow human being, a person created in God’s image. Where our culture teaches us hate, we must remember that if we hate those created in God’s image, we cannot honestly claim to love God. Jesus told the Lawyer to go and do the good that the Samaritan did; hopefully we can hear these words as well.

The lamb on the throne

Reading:  Revelation 5:1-14

The one thing that strikes me about the first century church is that it was completely powerless. Revelation is addressed to a church that is facing a great persecution. The first century church was filled with people at the bottom of society. It is addressed to Christians who were recently thrown out of the synagogue, they had caught the negative attention of Rome, they were blamed for the problems that happened in society. Christians were not just persecuted — but, in the stories that were being told about them, Christians were the villains.

Revelation is a letter addressed to the church in Asia Minor, which is now called Turkey. Every one of the seven churches are in major cities of the time; whether the regional capital, a major city of trade, an industrial center, or other traditional centers of power. The Roman Empire knew the names of these cities, and these cities were big enough to have the Emperor’s ear. Several of these cities had temples to deified emperors such as Caesars Augustus — two of these cities were so powerful that they suffered Emperor’s envy.

Christians remember the Emperor Domitian as the second great persecution. Many historians don’t believe that Domitian singled out the Christians — but whether or not he had Christians in mind, the Christians suffered greatly under his policies. Domitian decided to emphasize traditional Roman religion. He personally had a temple built to Jupiter, and he worked to increase the practice of worshiping dead Emperors. His first act as Emperor was to declare that his late brother Titus, the former emperor, was a god, and he had temple built for the worship of his father and brother.

Christians refused to participate in Emperor worship. They would not say Caesar is Lord concerning the living emperor, and they would not pray to the dead emperors. In many places, this meant exclusion from Roman society and a ban from trade. In some cases, it meant physical danger. Whether or not Christians were singled out, their lives were being destroyed by the empire — and their beliefs were not accepted by society. Christians had no power, and any power or wealth a Christian might have was quickly being taken away.

In Revelation 5, we see an image of the slaughtered lamb on the throne, in all trappings of authority. The lamb is called the lion of Judah, the root of David, the conqueror. The lamb had the authority to open the sealed document — a document that had a seal on it to show that it was not disturbed between the sender and the one receiving it; in other words a document that was written for the king’s eyes only. This picture in Revelation makes it clear that Christ is in the ultimate authority.

Now, there are different ways of interpreting this. One common way is to see that Christ’s throne is above all other thrones. We can easily quote Paul in a way that suggests that every king is under Christ, and they are, as political authorities, authorities to do good for the kingdom of heaven established on Earth.

The idea that the emperor is God’s agent on Earth is a pretty easy concept when the Emperor is Christian, and the state religion is Christianity. This was the dominant understanding after the 4th century throughout Christian Europe. It made sense, because you had a Christian king, and he was crowned king by a Christian bishop. The church clearly recognized the king’s right to rule.

This understanding is fairly popular in the United States as well; and why shouldn’t it be? Almost all of our presidents were publicly Christian, and Christian ethics are commonly discussed in congress when crafting laws. The inaugural prayer service has been a tradition since the founding of our nation; it is usually held at the National Cathedral, and it does give a sense that faith has a rather public role in our government. One of the first public actions of a president is to appear in a religious service that lasts for three and a half hours.

When Christianity is on friendly terms with the state, it is easy to picture the rulers as God’s subjects — who will be judged by God according to whether or not they governed according to God’s law. When we see the officials of the church and the officials of the state standing together, and the church blessing the state; it is hard to think otherwise.

The picture of Christ having the ultimate authority might not have had the same implications to the 1st century church. Things are very different now than when Revelation was written. One thing that stands out to me in this passage is that the lamb on the throne was slain. We have to remember that Jesus died on a Roman cross; Roman soldiers stood guard around his grave to make sure that he stayed buried — and when he rose from the dead, he conquered the act of Rome, and Rome’s military might. The picture of the Lamb that was slain, but still conquered isn’t a picture of Christ putting the emperor into power, but a picture of a Christ who’s power was far greater than the empire.

At this point, interpretation becomes difficult for me. I grew up with the idea that I lived in an effectively Christian culture, and everything that I saw around me supported this idea. There was also an idea that there were forces that were trying to reduce Christian influence from our world and culture — there of course were many stories that could be given as examples of this as well. I grew up aware of the culture war, and knowing which side was the right side.

On the other hand, I learned in history classes about all of the evil that was done by people who claimed to be God’s representatives on Earth. History taught me how much corruption was possible in a Christian nation — especially if people were afraid to touch the leaders that God supported, leaving it so that at the end of the day they were only accountable to God. Learning this part of history, I was somewhat skeptical of my own Christian nation.

Conversely, I learned about the evil done by secular nations. I learned about the viciousness of communist governments; as a student of Church history, I learned about how brutal the Roman government was for the first few centuries after Christ. I also learned how brutal society was. I learned about abandoning children to death, I learned about a world where only the powerful mattered, and where life was not treated as sacred. I also learned how Christian ideas seeped into culture and changed the hearts and minds of the people. I learned how Christian Rome eventually ended blood sports, I learned how people started making a real effort to care for the sick, and to save unwanted babies.

When I look at the difference between Christian Rome and Rome before Constantine — it is hard for me to regret that the Emperor became Christian. Even with all its rough edges, I prefer Christian Europe to pre-Christian Europe. I understand the challenge Christianity had in adapting to its new place of privilege, considering that the New Testament was addressed to a Christianity facing existential threats, living in a hostile world with an uncertain survival. I much prefer the world where the Empire and the Church are friends; I much prefer the world inhabited by great theologians trying to understand this new situation.

When I look at history and see all the ways the church has failed to be the church; ways where it represented the Roman Emperor rather than Christ, I see that when Jesus said he did not intend to establish a Kingdom of this world, the church won’t be successful at establishing godliness by using the government. The problem I see in history, including recently, is that Christianity can be distracted by political power, begin to compromise in order to hold onto that power.

Jesus taught us that he did not wish to build a kingdom of this world. Jesus did not want to be the emperor, Jesus did not want the church to become a political party — you see, the kingdom of heaven is lasting in a way that political parties and dynasties are not. The kingdom of heaven is not thrones, nor strong men but it is salt, it is light, it is mustard.

I think that the way that the Kingdom of Heaven changes the kingdoms of Earth is by changing everyday people. When we look to governments to change the world, we make a mistake. Governments can make laws, they can enforce laws, but they do nothing to change the human heart. Christianity started with a few powerless people; people who learned to have faith, and to live according to love, even when love is difficult. It started with a few people who had no power, but were willing to die for what they believed in — and who would do what was right, even when the world was wrong.

For centuries, innocent Christians died; people who were slandered, but who did nothing but good to their neighbors, and the known good character eventually defeated slander. Eventually innocence defeated false convictions. Eventually people sought to become more like the Christians — more Christlike — Christians were salt, light yeast, and eventually Christians were everywhere and changed everything.

I have come to believe that the way Christians change the world isn’t by changing governments directly. I believe that Christianity changes the world by changing something far more lasting — Christianity changes the hearts of the people.

Jeremiah 29:1-14 Plans to give a future and a hope

Reading: Jeremiah 29:1-14

The words of this passage are very familiar to me. The promise that God gives God’s people: “For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope. Then when you call upon me and come and pray to me, I will hear you.” (Jeremiah 29: 11-12 KJV) is a promise that I often see on posters. These are words that many people keep coming back to, because they are words of hope.

I admit — when I see these words on a poster, they are separated from the context. When lives are comfortable, it is easy to look to the promise that God has a special plan for us — when our lives are hard, then these words are very difficult to believe. The words are most difficult to believe if they are given to us in the context of words that take away every bit of hope that we have.

When Jeremiah wrote this letter to the exiles, Jerusalem had fallen to Nebuchadnezzar king of Babylon. The leading people of Judah were taken away from their homes, and they were sent somewhere else to live. One of the communities where they were sent was Babylon — the capitol of an enemy empire that destroyed their homeland. These were not people living in a safe situation — these were people living in a place where they were surrounded by enemies.

Not only were they in a hostile place, but this letter was not actually the kind of letter that would bring hope. In order to preserve hope, the exiles were telling each other that this would all be over soon, that they could go home and rebuild. The exiles were putting on a brave face, and hoping to return home. Jeremiah the prophet sent them a letter telling them that the hope that they had was wrong — that they would die in a hostile land, never to see home again. This hope crushing letter is still something we keep going back to and quoting, why, because it says: “For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope.” This promise to people facing the worst news they can imagine surely is for us as well.

I don’t know what it means to live in a hostile nation. I don’t know what it means to have hope stripped away; I have never lived in exile, I’ve never lived in fear of the police, I’ve never felt that place where I lived was hostile just because of who I was. I cannot look back at my experience and know what the Jews in Babylon must have felt — especially as they had this bad news. My experience does not tell me these things, and my imagination isn’t quite good enough to tell how I would respond to these things; you see I imagine myself braver than I am.

The truth is, I stand here, and I realize that there are people in this room who can understand. Last month has been a tough month for you — and you are in my prayers. I know that some of you are nervous when you see police. I have learned that there are some people who use their little bit of authority to harass people. I realize that there are some of you who have face ICE, and have been to the immigration courts. I know that this experience is frightening, and my thoughts and prayers are with you.

Two weeks ago, I listened to our attorney General, Jeff Sessions speak. In his speech, he included a lengthy list of crimes committed by illegal immigrants. This list included some fairly detailed descriptions that included names and ethnicity. When listening to this man try to demonstrate that Hispanics are a danger to the United States, I realized that this is dangerous. As Sessions spoke of local police forces refusing to protect the public from this danger, I feared that somebody might take up arms to protect his community from the brown threat. I know that Jeff Sessions was only talking about those who could be deported — but I also know that you can’t tell a natural born citizen from an immigrant by looking, and I don’t know anybody who carries around their birth certificate to prove citizenship. If your ancestors are largely Mayan, Inca, Aztec, or any of the other people who are indigenous to the Americas; you can’t change your skin. When Jeff Sessions mentioned the crime committed by a Guatemalan, and suggested that law enforcement refuses to protect the people from such criminals — it puts everyone of Mayan descent in danger — and considering that violent racist don’t really care to verify genealogy any more than they care to verify status, it puts everyone of visibly Native American descent in danger.

The danger that I speak of is something that I’ve seen in a community that is familiar to Karla and me. When we visit Kansas, one of the stops that I make is in Oletha; which is a quiet suburb of Kansas City with a Christian college. Several months ago, the President spoke of the danger of radical Islamic terrorism — and following that speech, somebody saw a couple Indians eating at a restaurant. The man pulled a gun on them, yelled get out of my country, and murdered them. He drove to another town, went to a restaurant, and asked to be hidden, because he killed an Iranian. Now, these Indians were not Iranian, they were not Muslims, and they were not terrorists; and they were here legally, working as Engineers for Garmin. Violent racists don’t care about immigration status — nor even getting nationality correct. If hate is a danger to electrical Engineers — it is a danger to everybody who can’t change their skin.

As I’ve been watching this hateful insanity, I’ve been learning that even those I thought would be sympathetic are not always. I’ve learned that doors that I thought would be are being shut. The more my eyes are opened, the more I see that you are a community that can identify with the Jews in Babylonian captivity. The more my eyes are opened, the more I see that the story of an America that welcomes people isn’t always true. It breaks my heart to have learned this.

The thing is, the more you are like the Jews in Babylon, the more sure I can be that the promise is for you — the promise that God wants good for you and not evil. I know you and I both pray to Jesus, I know that we both hold onto the name were were given, Christian. I know that we are members of the same kingdom, the kingdom of heaven. You are my fellow citizens in Christ — this cannot change. Because I know who you are, I know that the hope offered in this promise is yours.

I also see that Jeremiah gives advice to people living in a land that is an enemy land. The advice that Jeremiah gave was to live — to build houses, to plant gardens, to marry and have families. He advised the people who lived in a hostile land to live normal lives in that land. This seems to be good advice to me, because what other choice did they have? What choice do you have? You have to live your life — the alternative is to die waiting for a chance to live.

Living life, and having your family live life though isn’t the only advice that is given. The rest of the advice is difficult advice: Remember this is advice to people living in a hostile city and nation!

Jeremiah tells the Jews living in Babylon to work and pray for the prosperity of the city — to work and pray that Babylon prospers. The advice is to seek good for your neighbors, and for the wider community, even if it is a hostile place filled with enemies. The reason Jeremiah gives is that “As Babylon prospers, so you will also prosper.” This really makes sense if you think about it. If you are going to live your life somewhere — you hope that it is a good place to live. If you live in the city, what is good for that city is good for everybody, so hope for that good.

Now, I would like to call on us to follow one part of the advice given by Jeremiah — stand, and lets pray. There is something that has been called a concert of prayer where the leader calls out prayer requests, and everybody prays. I have a few things to pray for — I will call them out, and wait as we pray. Let us pray together.

  • For peace and prosperity in the United States and Indianapolis
  • For President Donald Trump, that he governs wisely and well
  • For our congressmen and our judges
  • For governor Eric Holcomb, that he governs wisely and well
  • For our city government, our schools, and our civic workers
  • For those who are poor and those who are sick
  • For Iglesia Amigos

Message given at Iglesia Amigos de Indianapolis.

Revelation 3:7-13 — Closed doors and open doors

Reading: Revelation 3:7-13

We are continuing our overview of the 7 churches with Philadelphia. If you notice, the letter to Philadelphia does not condemn them for anything. The struggles that they suffer are mentioned, but there is nothing but love and compassion for this struggling church. If our church were to get a letter, I hope that it would be such a letter.

For those of you who were in Sunday school, you have learned that the city of Philadelphia was a city that was one prosperous but now faced struggles. The video we watched talked about how the city was devastated by an earthquake, and then the Emperor Domitian ordered them to destroy the local vineyards so not to compete with the Italian Wine industry.

In addition to that, they mentioned something that had become a continuing theme in these letters to the churches; the argument of whether or not Christians were a Jewish sect. This argument had been going on for some time, and historians disagree on whether or not this argument had yet been resolved. Some say that a clear decision was made about 85 AD, but there is evidence that there were synagogues that included Jewish Christians well into the 2nd century. By 98 AD, however, the distinction was clear enough that Roman law did not include Christians as Jews.

This process of separation, which by this point had been going on for about 40 years, was a hard process to say the least. I know a little bit of the pain of seeing doors closed — especially doors that at one point very familiar to me, but can you imagine going to your place of worship, and being told that you are no longer welcome? Can you imagine the doors of your church being closed to you? I know the language in Revelation is a more harsh than we find acceptable now; but, at the time it was a personal hurt — when the synagogue doors were shut, the Christians were separated from not only the pagan community, but the community that worshiped God as well.

Historians estimate that at the end of the First Century there were thousands of Christians, most likely less than 10,000 — this number comes from assuming that Christians grew at a consistent rate until Christianity became the main Roman religion in the fourth century. Even if we are to guess that the 144,000 mentioned in Revelation is the number of Christians, this would be a tiny fraction of the 60 million or so people who lived in the Roman empire. While the best we can do is guess — there is no number I can guess that makes getting closed out of the synagogue anything less than isolating.

What is the promise given to those who are faithful, even when they are cast out, and it is made clear that the world has no place for them? What promise is made to people who now see the doors of both the synagogue and the Agora shut, isolating them from both the world of faith and the world of business? “These are the words of the one who opens and no one will shut.” I see much hope in this introduction; I see the promise that Christ has an open door for the marginalized.

In some ways, we can imagine what was going on; Many of us have had an experience where we were shut out of somewhere that was familiar and safe. If we have, we have a guess of the hurt that was going on. Personally, I’ve been very lucky — I’ve been more the type to observe shut doors than to have them shut on me. When I experience closed doors, it is generally because I choose to spend time with those who see the doors shut on them.

You know that my heart is with people who are shut out — it always has been. My earliest memory of disappointment with the church was when I saw friends that I invited were less than welcome. Right now, my heart is with a group of people who are being reduced to a political argument. Last month was not a good month to be involved with Hispanic ministry. Just last week, a man involved with Iglesia Amigos was picked up by ICE, and for reasons that are not entirely clear to me, his wife was released with an ankle bracelet. Just a couple weeks ago, Jeff Sessions demonized the Hispanic community by reading a list of crimes, connected with Ethnic backgrounds — it does not make it easier for a community of brown when the nation is being told by high government officials that brown people are criminals, and dangerous to the community. Next Tuesday, we suspect that a group of documented immigrants; the minor children of undocumented immigrants brought here, but later given permission to live and work here might find that when their work permits expire, they will not be renewed. We fear that people who have no memory of living anywhere else will become criminalized.

It is hard for me to walk with members of a marginalized community, because there are some doors open to me that, in order to enter them, I must leave them behind. It is distressing when we see doors that were once opened closed; especially when there are people who we saw as friends on the other side of those doors. Last month has literally been the kind of month where optimism has become dispair.

Yet Christ came to Earth to bring the gospel to the marginalized people. Christ preached good news to the poor — Christ is the one who sets before us an open door that no one will shut. The more time I spend with people who see doors closed, the more I realize that these words are good news for the desperate. The kingdom of heaven is made up of the faithful Christians of Philadelphia; who entered the door Christ opened while all those other doors were shut. Jesus came with the message that God accepts those that society calls unacceptable. With Christ, all the divisions we make no longer matter, because Christ tore down all those walls that we build.

The hard part of this gospel is that we are called to love those that Christ accepts. We are called to live in the Kingdom of Heaven, where those walls that were once so comfortable are now torn down. If Christ opens a door — we must let people enter that open door instead of trying to block it. Sometimes good news for the marginalized means a call to work for us. I remember reading a sermon where the preacher was telling the congregation they shouldn’t be a welcoming church — he made it clear that this wasn’t because they were welcoming the wrong people; but it was because they were no longer an inviting church. Welcoming is much easier than inviting; a sign next to an open door is welcoming. Inviting is showing people who are desperately searching for any open door that there is one open too them. Inviting is letting people who are marginalized know that the gospel is good news for them. Inviting is going to the lost, and leading them to Christ’s open door. This is the gospel — and as people of God’s kingdom, the gospel is our work.