My mother was from North Carolina and my
father from Maine. I have ancestors who fought on each side in the Civil War. I
don’t know any details about those who fought for the Union. On the Confederate
side, the two of whom I am aware, as much as I might wish that they had become
disenchanted with the Confederacy or fought honorably or even suffered from
PTSD, instead behaved dishonorably, deserting to escape the monotonous drudgery
of life in a military garrison. A couple of generations later, in the 1930s, the
KKK threatened my devoutly Christian maternal grandfather for paying his black
and white employees equal wages. Somehow, love had begun to erode and then to heal
racial differences.
In the first part of today’s gospel reading,[1]
Jesus explains that it is not what enters the body that can defile it, but what
comes out of the mouth that has the potential to defile. Jesus is answering a
question about whether ordinary Jews, mostly peasants, should emulate the Pharisees
and practice multiple, daily ritual hand washings. In arid Palestine, those hand
washings were widely impractical if not impossible. Jesus seized the
opportunity to address the broader question of whether the Pharisees were
correct in insisting that Jews observe hundreds of precautionary rules to avoid
accidentally violating one of the Torah’s 613 rules.
Jesus’ response is metaphorical, not literal.
Even in the first century, people knew that consuming certain substances could
be fatal. However, just as obviously we intuitively know that Jesus is right.
What goes into the body may cause harm, particularly to self or to one’s
relationship with God, but what comes out of the mouth has far greater
potential lethality, able to harm not only self but many others. Bullying and
verbally abusing family members exemplify this harm. Furthermore, Jesus’ use of
the word “mouth” is itself metaphorical. According to the text, Jesus specifically
condemns actions such as murder, theft, and adultery.
Today’s gospel set in its historical context
provides a vital framework for responding to the recent events surrounding the
proposed removal of Robert E. Lee’s statue from the University of Virginia
campus in Charlottesville.
Lee’s statue is one of more than 700
monuments to the Confederacy in the US. These monuments, unsurprisingly, are
mostly located in the states that seceded and adjoining states in which large
numbers of Confederate sympathizers lived. Most of these monuments were erected
toward the end of the nineteenth century when Civil War veterans were dying and
Jim Crow laws were being enacted.[2]
These monuments, allegedly erected to honor Confederate
soldiers, actually symbolized resurgent claims of white supremacy. They
therefore contribute to perpetuating racial injustice. Prominently displaying
such monuments in public spaces morally offends African-Americans, Christ, and
all who seek justice.
We cannot erase history. Purging the
monuments will not eradicate or transform our tragic national legacy of racism
and white supremacism. Trying to ignore that legacy both prevents us from
learning from past mistakes and from experiencing healing and reconciliation.
When I, as a child, visited Mount Vernon and Monticello, neither site had
exhibits on how slaves lived, the essential role that slave labor played in
allowing Washington and Jefferson the latitude to pursue American independence,
or the evil of slavery. Today, both Mount Vernon and Monticello have such
exhibits. Just as it is impossible to rightly understand the gospel apart from
its narrative context, it is impossible to rightly understand Civil War and
Confederate monuments apart from the full historical context.
Early Christian commentaries tended to gloss
over the uniqueness of Jesus’ healing of the Canaanite woman’s daughter found in
the second part of today’s gospel reading.[3] Thankfully,
most modern commentaries emphasize that when Jesus publicly conversed with the
Canaanite woman, he transcended culturally constructed, value-laden
distinctions of gender, ethnicity, religion, and nationality. That makes this
healing unique. We have come to accept, too often belatedly and painfully, St.
Paul’s declaration that God “shows no partiality.”[4] Nationality,
ethnicity, race, gender, gender orientation, and religion never alter a person’s
inherently equal dignity and worth. We reaffirm our commitment to this belief every
time we repeat our Baptismal vows. We do so in the expectation that God’s love can
and will heal our divisions.
Sadly, a vocal, aggressive, and growing
minority in this nation choose hate instead of love. These individuals and groups
seek to bend the arc of history back towards injustice instead of forwards
toward reconciliation and justice. Too often, this minority turns violent when
their rhetoric and threats fall on deaf ears. Public statements and Tweets by
some political leaders inflame and encourage these groups. You can probably
name these groups as well as I can: the KKK, neo-Nazis, white supremacists, the
alt-Right, anti-Semites, etc. The Southern Poverty Law Center counts 125 new
such groups since 2014.
Elsewhere in Matthew’s gospel Jesus makes
explicit what is implicit in the first part of today’s reading. He said of
false prophets, “by their fruit you shall know them.”[5] In
stark contrast to words and actions that destroy love and perpetuate hate,
Jesus repeatedly exhorted his followers to love their neighbors. Healing the
Canaanite woman’s daughter demonstrated love’s power to bring healing across the
value-laden, cultural constructs of nationality, gender, ethnicity, and
religion. The Buddha connected love as hate’s remedy more
directly, saying, "In this world hatred is not dispelled by hatred; by love
alone is hatred dispelled. This is an eternal law."[6]
In the hope that God will help us to speak
and act with love, bridging divisions, healing brokenness, and establishing
justice, our bishop and chief pastor, the Right Reverend Bob Fitzpatrick, has
directed that from today until the liturgical year ends on Christ the King
Sunday we conclude the Prayers of the People with collects for social justice
and global peace. May these be heartfelt prayers that move us to act ever more
lovingly and justly; may we join the company of saints in becoming Christ’s beloved
community. Amen.
[Sermon preached at St. Clement’s Church,
Honolulu, HI, on August 20, 2017]
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