Readings: Ephesians 1:15-23; Matthew 25:31, 34-41
It happened last year in Sweden – but it could have happened anywhere in the world.
It “began as a parking lot quarrel, something that should not have, but did, escalate into a major confrontation that resulted in physical violence and death. An elderly woman was pushed to the ground, struck her head on [the] pavement, and two days later, died. The woman was a native-born, Swedish citizen of the city; her assailant a recently-arrived Muslim immigrant. Almost immediately, tensions between the local citizens and the immigrant community spiraled out of control, fueled by hate-filled Facebook pages, sensationalized media reporting and politically-motivated rhetoric by community leaders.
Ultimately, reason, sanity and goodwill prevailed and the community was able to begin binding its wounds through dialogue and humane leadership within both the local Christian and Muslim communities.”[1]
Why? Why, does there have to be such hatred and violence within our society. And why does it happen so often between people of different religions and beliefs?
There are so many answers one might give – whole communities, cities and countries struggle to understand how we, members of the human race, can turn on our own species with murderous intent. It’s so easy to blame others for the violence of the world. And, in this election season, it’s even easier to blame the politicians. But, I want to suggest tonight, that we look to ourselves, and our own tradition, to ask, could we be contributing to the violence of the world. Is it possible, that elements within our Christian tradition might predispose us to hostility, arrogance and aggression?
“Trying times, in Jewish tradition, have always called for self-examination. In Hebrew, it's called Heshbon HaNefesh, or soul searching.
Soul searching is not about letting those who [commit the violence] off the hook. It is not about letting those who contribute to the culture in which [violence] seems more reasonable, off the hook either. But it is about looking inward to address those things which really are within our control, rather than simply raging about those things which are not.”[2]
Clearly, the message of Jesus contradicts all violence. Love your neighbour as yourself, love your enemy, do good to those who hate you – all these teachings challenge us to live the way of non-violence – of peace, compassion and love. And yet, our Christian history (both ancient and contemporary) is littered with episodes of extreme violence in the name of God.
What is it about the Christian tradition that allows such violence to rear its ugly head?
I dare to suggest that there is a stream running within Christianity that is arrogant, self-righteous and triumphalist. This perspective endorses violence. It can be supported by texts found in the Bible, it is present in some of the doctrines and liturgy of the church. Oh yes, it’s there, it can be used to justify hate, judgement and destruction. And yet, there is another stream, in my opinion a more compelling and persuasive stream, also running within Christianity; one that is compassionate, generous, hope filled and unconditionally loving. Within this part of the Christian church, we choose to nurture ourselves within that stream.
On this Sunday, in which the Church celebrates the Reign of Christ (or, as often named Christ, the King Sunday), these two contradictory streams compete for our attention. If we are to live out our Christian lives with authenticity, these contradictions must be considered – and choices made.
Let’s look, for a minute at the stream which does endorse righteous violence. An example may be found in the old hymn book[3] we used to use in this church. Let’s look at Hymn 479: “Who is on the Lord’s side, who will serve the king”. I invite you to read the words through, as Karen plays the tune on the organ.
With its tune name “Armageddon”, there’s no question, this hymn celebrates the righteous way of the Christian. We are on the Lord’s side against the foe – that is, all those others who are on ‘the world’s side’. The battle lines are drawn; only one side – ours – will win. Such hymns encourage us to claim superiority over all who are not Christian; they justify violence against others who are different from us; they can lead to words of hatred, escalating to acts of violence. Where, in this hymn, is the gospel call to offer compassion to ‘one of the least’ – where is the Christ who nurses hope, restores and heals, about whom we sang a few minutes ago[4]? If our faith is to make any difference in our lives, what we sing, how we pray and what we believe is important. To worship, using the language of Christ the King in battle, can only nurture violence in our hearts, in our lives and in our world.
It’s very tempting – and satisfying – to expel that which we cannot embrace. We have a strong sense of identity, when we know whose side we’re on – it affirms us ... but such self-affirmation comes at a huge cost. For, when we take sides, all those who are not on our side are wrong – they are to be cast out – to be thrown into the fires of judgement and destruction. If our lives are shaped in the Christian Church by this kind of thinking, it is relatively easy to take the next step of acting out in violence against those who hold different beliefs, those who follow different ways, those whom we don’t like, or think are wrong. Setting up ‘us’ and ‘them’ is so easy to do – but it’s not life-giving and it is not the way of Jesus.
For the Reign of Christ, or the kin-dom of God, is about participating in a different dream. It’s a dream of healing and wholeness held out and offered to us in the midst of our pain, woundedness and brokenness; it’s a dream of peace on earth, joy, hope and good-will among all people. It’s a dream, which we bring about by shaping our lives within a context of Holy Love.
On this, the final Sunday of the liturgical year, the Sunday before we enter the Season of Advent, we are called to remember an alternative to violent power and hatred – an alternative way of being community. The one we follow calls us into a community of feeding the hungry, welcoming the stranger, healing the hurting – this is the kin-dom of God. So, let’s not uphold traditions that shape us in ways counter to the gospel; and let’s not wait for politicians to change the world; let’s be the change we want – and live out the transforming way of Jesus, being the Body of Christ, which we will receive from this Table.
[1] “From hate to healing in Sweden. And beyond” Dirk Ficca info@parliamentofreligions.org November 19, 2011.
[2] Unattributed quote from February 2011
[3] Church Hymnary Third Edition.
[4] “Wounded world that cries for healing” Shirley Murray Faith forever singing
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