Power of love will prevail over the love of power

Julie Seavy

 


Sermon for May 11, 2003

Fourth Sunday of Easter
Acts 4: 23-37 Psalm 23 I John 3:1-8 John 10:11-16

Gracious Lord, be with us in our fear, in our faith, and in our hope. Transform us by your love, and send us out into the world in peace. Amen.

A few months ago, the Rev. Sue Singer and I were invited to an extraordinary gathering of leaders in Christian education and faith formation. Six hundred people met in Chicago—the Presiding Bishop, bishops, clergy, and lay leaders—people from every diocese across the country. We came together to work on one question—“Will our faith have children?” We started each day by watching a selection from a remarkable video series made just for this event. The videos were a collection of interviews; people of all ages and backgrounds, life-long Episcopalians and newcomers, true believers and the truly disgruntled. They all answered some basic questions about who they are, what they believe or do not believe, and what they hope for. Each day these personal stories guided our discussions.

On the first day we listened to Robert Keagan, a developmental psychologist at Harvard. He responded to the day’s video by talking about how people develop faith if they are well-held; that is, if they are embraced and supported by a community that sees them, knows them, and loves them. This led to contemplating and discussing how to do just that. How do we see people for who they truly are? How do we know them and how do we love them? Or, to put it more directly, do you feel seen, known, and loved here at All Saints? It’s an important question.

The next day, master teacher Parker Palmer explored this question by saying that our children will have faith if they are assured of fully formed adults to mentor them into the faith. In other words, we (the grown-ups) can’t give away our faith if we are not in possession of it as adults. And he spoke courageously of confronting the dark side of our corporate life as Episcopalians. How frequently parents want someone else to teach religion to their children; how difficult it can be find adults to work with children, especially teenagers; and how many people feel their faith is inadequate to mentor or witness to anyone.

But I must say, the most poignant reflections on this question came on the last day from the Bishops of Belfast and Jerusalem. For them the question—“Will our faith have children?”—is very much a literal one. Will their children survive? Will there be a next generation? Talk about putting things in perspective. They asked us how do we, as Christians in America, relate to our brothers and sisters fighting persecution, plagues, war, and famine, to name just a few of problems confronting people of many faiths around the world. Are we concerned with their well-being?

Today’s lessons are all asking the same questions. Who are we? Who is Jesus for us? What does it mean to be a community of believers? How will we be known? And will we survive?

In Acts we hear about the apostles Peter and John. We learn they have been arrested for speaking out boldly in the name of Christ. We pick up the story after their release from prison, as they gather with their friends to figure out what to do next. They reassert what they hold to be their most important values. They say they are a community that has been healed. Because of this, they want to share to the signs and wonders of the Lord. They speak of being of one heart and soul—so much so that everything they own they wish to hold in common, so that there is not a needy person among them. They’ve experienced what is sometimes called communitas, or overflowing love of the beloved community. How will they reach out to others?

Sound familiar? The beloved community is embracing and supportive, it is centered and bold. It is concerned with everyone’s well being.

For me, this year has been like no other. Just over a year ago, Dr. Yang Jianli, a member of our parish returned to his homeland, China, in order to carry out what he felt what his life’s work. An accomplished scholar, Jianli returned to China in order to learn more about the massive labor strikes taking place at the time and to share this information about China’s working poor with the international community. Jianli is a citizen of China who has been blacklisted since 1989 because of his involvement in the Tiananmen Square uprisings. Because of this he could not renew his Chinese passport. After 12 long years in forced exile, he made the fateful decision to return home. Concerned to continue his academic work, and wanting to connect with family and friends, he borrowed a friend’s passport and went home. He knew what he was doing. He knew what might happen to him and to his family. But he also knew what he could do, with his education, his connections, and his freedom. He took a great risk because he believes so much is at stake.

Certainly my most basic assumptions about our lives as believers, of what it means to have faith or hope, of what it means to care for one another, have been challenged and transformed as a result of Jianli’s imprisonment. Let me share a few examples:

One example is simply the gift of belief itself. The gift of belief. Jianli became a Christian as an adult during his years as a graduate student at UC Berkeley. He had a physics professor who shared his faith with him. There is no dramatic conversion story here. The heavens did not part, no bushes burned. Two people read the Bible together over lunch. This simple act of Christian witness, of a friend telling a personal story about who he is and what matters to him, changed Jianli’s life. There is no question Jianli was ethical and compassionate man before he became a Christian. But he was transformed, according to his friends and family, by the vision of Christian hope and freedom. He was inspired by the radical equality of communitas. He found a faith that embraced him, he found answers to his questions, and he responded to this gift by continuing his passionate works of justice and mercy with even greater joy in his heart. In his own words, “It is my deep belief . . . that there must be a better way, a better way to live together, a better way to cherish one another, a better way to honor our sacred potential . . . a better way to build justice and peace into the fabric of our lives.”

A great many times this year people have spoken to me about Jianli. Many have asked sincere questions, trying to understand this complex situation. Many have wanted to help, and, of course, a few have been incredulous, even irritated.

To answer these questions, I had to do a lot of listening. First, I needed to listen to his family, friends, and colleagues. Last May I attended a press conference at the Chinese Cultural Institute, and I quickly learned that the issue of returning to one’s homeland is not simply a personal question for one man but a considered strategy for many who suffer in exile. It is a one way to draw attention to the lack of human rights in China. Keep in mind, illegal entry, even in Chinese law, carries a maximum sentence of one year in prison. Jianli has not been charged, his whereabouts have not been confirmed, and he has not been allowed contact with anyone. He is one of many brave citizens challenging the Chinese government, through the power and influence of the international community, by the very self-sacrificial act of assuming the right to go home.

Second, I needed to listen to those scholars and activists who have traveled such well-worn paths. Desmond Tutu’s words have been enormously helpful this year, especially those difficult passages when he speaks of the years and years he spent on the road being called insufferably naďve, or worse, a fool and a traitor. I thought back to the first time I met Desmond Tutu, when I was in my early 20s. He came to a Catholic church in Sacramento, and, believe me, large, ebullient crowds did not greet him. There were maybe 20 people present. Can you imagine how discouraged he must have been, to be confronted with this overwhelming evil in his homeland, and night after night tell the same story to handfuls of people? Most of us were so ignorant, so naďve. Yet, he didn’t give up.

Jim Wallis describes those hard years in his book Faith Works. He covered Tutu as a reporter for Sojourners magazine. Wallis recalls moments when it felt as if this small man was one of the few people on the planet who actually believed the end of apartheid was possible. When Mr. Tutu visited All Saints last year he told us a story of preaching in the cathedral with police in riot gear filling the aisles. Remember he pointed his finger to those police, “You may be very powerful, but you are not God. God cannot be mocked! You have already lost.” And then, that wonderful smile, “We are inviting you to come and join the winning side!”

The Bible tells us that “faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things unseen.” Have you ever stopped to consider how many people relied on this one man’s faith? What if Desmond Tutu, and so many others, had not taken the risks, or made the supreme sacrifices, to fight for their freedom? What if no one asked us to join the winning side? Can those of us on the comfortable end of the status quo truly understand the sacrifices many people make with their lives? I, for one, have felt incredibly humbled by this experience.

Nelson Mandela, who spent 26 years in prison, writes:

“In life, every man has twin obligations—obligations to his family, to his parents, to his wife and children; and he has an obligation to his people, his community, his country. In a civil and humane society, each man is able to fulfill those obligations according to his own inclinations and abilities . . . I did not in the beginning choose to place my people above my family, but in attempting to serve my people, I found that I was prevented from fulfilling my obligations as a son, a brother, a father, and a husband.
In that way, my commitment to my people, to the millions of South Africans I would never know or meet, was at the expense of the people I knew best and loved most. It was as simple and yet as incomprehensible as the moment a small child asks her father, “Why can you not be with us?” And the father must utter the terrible words: “There are other children like you, a great many of them . . .” and then one’s voice trails off.”

Which brings me to my final point. I’ve had listen to the scriptures in light of these questions of freedom and hope. How often have we read of the imprisonment of the apostles, and it is all very routine, simply the background noise to the gospels. This year, for me, these stories moved to the foreground. Why were people imprisoned? What did they do? How did they react? What did they say? I have been challenged by the risk inherent, in the very heart, of the Christian story.

Listen to the story of the Good Shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. This is the gift of faith. Jesus lays down his life for us. God’s love for us is so overwhelming, so embracing, that to be on the receiving end of this gift is to be loved without end. To know this love is to say, like the psalmist, “Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.” I may walk through the valley of shadows but you are with me. You spread a table before me, in the presence of those who trouble me.” To know this love is to know hope, to know mercy running over, and to experience justice that flows like a river. One step in this stream, and your life is transformed! You are filled with a passion to share this good news with others. A new heaven and a new earth! I must reach out to others! Even if it costs me.

None of us know how Jianli’s story is going to unfold. For every Nelson Mandela and Desmond Tutu there are countless more who certainly made equal, if not greater, sacrifices. But the fact that we do not know their names does not make their bold witness any less important. Because God knows us each by name. People of faith and hope do not act because they know they know they will get results, they do so because they filled with the love of God. As Jim Wallis puts it, “Faith works.” It just that simple, and that difficult. Faith is not idle. Faith works.

We are called to be a community that is embracing and supportive, centered and bold, and concerned for more than our own immediate world. On April 25,th we the beloved community here in Brookline, gathered on the front steps to do just that. We gathered to give witness to Jianli’s hope. As I looked out at the crowd of people, mostly strangers to one another, I could hear Jianli’s voice “I believe that people are good at heart and that the power of love will prevail over the love of power.”

If I may speak more personally,

Christina, you are a tremendous witness of hope. Daniel McGlinchey, an assistant to Congressman Barney Frank says it best. “Christina could teach a course on how to lobby the Hill because she does it with such persistence, intelligence, humility and gratitude that it’s impossible to ignore her. She works with both the House and the Senate, democrats and republicans, the legislative branch and the executive branch, all with such grace that they adore her.” The other day we were talking about names, her name and Jianli’s name in Chinese, but what really struck me after our conversation—is her Anglicized name. Christina. You are the light of Christ bring hope and peace to those around you, and I am sure, to your loved ones so far way. I hope on this Mother’s day, some of this peace and love comes back to you and you can rest.

Aaron and Anita you share today’s award as well. Yours is the hardest road because yours is not a choice. You have been brave and patient, even when you feel sad and angry. We know that your Daddy is a brave man. And he loves you so much, that he wants to make the world that we live in a better place. That makes him extra special.

Beloved community, our faith will survive

if we hold onto one another,
if we ground ourselves in the scripture and experience of those wise souls who have gone before us,
if we speak the truth boldly,
if we share our wealth,
    and remember the needs of others.

At this time, Anita would like to come forward with a witness of our hope.

Let us take a few moments to sit in silence, to be with one another, and to pray for Jianli.

Let us pray,

Gracious Lord,
be with us in our fear, in our faith, and in our hope.
Give us the faith and courage to work for the freedom of Jianli,
Surround Jianli and his family with the comfort of your love through us,
And strengthen all those who seek peace and justice for your world. Amen.

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Source: "yangjianli.com".