A lot of people have asked me about my commute to church. I live in Portland near SE 97th and Holgate. It’s about 7 miles to church. I take Holgate to 122, jog up to Powell, and it’s a straight shot to the church, with very little traffic, as long as I don’t get behind a school bus. Bus 9 pretty much runs directly along Powell if I ever wanted to take it. The Max stop is half a mile from my house and 1 mile from the church. Furthermore, there is a bike trail that goes almost directly from my house to the church, so if I fix up my bike, I can easily bike here on days I don’t have meetings I have to drive to. Several good paths, at least partly because of those who planned this church put it in a central location on a main road, where there are sidewalks and restaurants and other businesses close by--very helpful, when we’re talking visibility and accessibility.
Today’s readings are about
accessibility, specifically God and the people having access to each
other. I’m going to start with the
Gospel today and then work backward.
John is coming to prepare the way of the Lord. He is proclaiming the ancient words about
God’s road construction project, to raise up the valleys, level out the
mountains, straighten the roads and smooth them out so that God can come and
have a safe place to land, access to the people.
The reading begins with a list
of road-builders: Emperor Tiberius, Pontius Pilate, Herod, Phillip, Lyssanius,
Annas, and Caiaphus. These important
figures built roads for access to their largest cities, greatest monuments,
most important Temples and Synagogues, and for their biggest armies.
In contrast to that, we have
John, in a remote area, near the River Jordan, out in the wilderness talking
about an alternative road, the road of repentance. Repentance literally means to turn around, so
we’ve got a big U-Turn sign in today’s Gospel.
The direction we’ve been going isn’t working. God is calling us in another direction.
The direction we’ve been going
isn’t working. We’ve been going toward
the bigger and more impressive. We’ve
been going toward the most powerful, most forceful. For us today, we tend to head toward the big
box stores, the best Christmas presents, to impress people, to prove how good
we are, to move up the socio-economic ladder, to be pious, clean, put together,
organized, funny, and strong. These are
the traits our culture values. However,
they create rough roads and barriers for other people. Our cheap material things mean that other
people don’t get paid a living wage and work in deplorable conditions. They mean pollution. The gap between the rich and poor means that
some people have more than one house when other people have nowhere to go. Our illusion that having it all together is
important, causes us to blame people who have serious troubles and avoid
them. Our belief that we have earned our
own success puts up roadblocks between us and other people who we see as less
successful. Many of us have bought into
the road we have been traveling toward material gain, higher church attendance,
and having it together, which has blinded us to the road of repentance and
making a U-turn that God is calling us to.
God is calling us to a different
road all together. This is the road in
which all people will see God, have access to God, and all people will be
blessed. This is the road in which all
Creation is in balance for the thriving of all live. This is the road of connection between all
people, the road of no blockades and barriers, nothing coming between us.
The Israelites were first called
out on that road in the Exodus. They
were called out of injustice, forced labor, terrible working conditions,
inequality. They knew that road of slavery
very well and in some ways that made it easier.
They knew all the landmarks and signs.
They knew their place. They had
some security. But that was not the road
God had in mind for them. They had known
the Egyptians as their gods—it was their slave masters who told them what was
important and directed their lives. But
God wanted to show them a more abundant way.
So God parted the Red Sea and removed that road block, made straight
their path out of Egypt into the wilderness and made a path for them to new
life, new relationship with each other and with God. The Israelites gave up everything they
owned. None of them was better off than
any other. They were on this level plain
that we find in the Gospel. They even
ate the same food day after day. They
didn’t have the signs of better clothing or better housing or better food to
tell them they were better. They only
had complete equality which must have been very disorienting. If you are looking for your value in the
things you have and all that goes away, how do you know who you are? All the valleys had been raised up, all the
poor had been lifted up. All the
mountains had been made low—all the wealthier were at the same level as
everyone else all of a sudden. And God
appeared to all as a pillar of smoke by day and a pillar of fire by night, so
all had access. All could see God. And people eventually learned to define
themselves in relationship to God and to see themselves as a people rather than
in competition with each other or better or worse than someone else. And then forgot and relearned and so on until
today.
In the reading from Malachi, God is sending a messenger to prepare the
way for God to come to the Temple where people know they can have access to
God. The reading speaks of a refiner’s
fire and fuller’s soap. It is talking
about purity and cleanliness and righteousness.
So many times when we’re concerned with purity, we put up more
roadblocks to people, we create less access.
We decide that someone is not good enough or pure enough to approach
God. But really we are refined and
cleansed and made righteous when we take down the barriers between us that keep
people from experiencing abundant life.
It is our roadblocks that need to be cleansed and knocked over—the
roadblocks that make life harder for some people that make access seem
impossible for those who are usually disregarded and blocked.
In Paul’s letter to the Thessalonians, he is far away from them, but
still they hold Paul in their hearts and he holds them in his. They still have access to one another through
the Holy Spirit which removes the barriers between them. Paul has such love for this first church of
his, this unlikely gathering of people who have torn down barriers of class and
religion and nationality and philosophy and wealth to come together on this
road with Paul, of all people. Now that
they can see God and see each other, they have found God accessible and
compassionate and forgiving and smoothing.
So now to us, we hear this message on the corner of Powell and Eastman
Parkway, to smooth the road and to create access, to tear down roadblocks and
barriers. For those who have been here a
long time, those barriers might be hard to see, because you expect most
everything you encounter here. There aren’t many startling surprises to block
you. But those might exist for other people. So it becomes a conversation with
those who have come more recently or those who aren’t here yet, what would
remove barriers for people to come to church.
And even more importantly because coming to church doesn’t necessarily
mean knowing how close God is, we get to ask, “What barriers is God removing or
asking us to remove so that people do have access to God or can know God is
near?” One huge barrier has been removed
in the last year or two is that people can participate in services at home
through technology, so mobility is not as much of an issue. Because of livestreaming people can try out a
church before coming to know what to expect.
People don’t have to take risks if they are immunocompromised or if
another variant begins increasing transmission again. We have ways of worshipping without risking as
much spread of the virus. But there are
other barriers, other things that keep people from participating and knowing
how close God is, so it is important to listen to the voices of the people on
the outside, in the wilderness who can help us prepare the way.
I think in some ways the pandemic has been a wilderness of sorts. So many of the things we took for granted
have been stripped away. We’ve turned
our focus from being centered on work.
It seems these last 2 years have been for me at least more quality time
with my family, eating together, having important conversations. This year has caused us to remember how much
we rely on each other that when everyone takes precautions we can bring health
to our community. I think we’ve realized
more how each person is part of a whole—how important doctors and nurses and
teachers and bus drivers and day care providers and grocery clerks are to our
community. And the pandemic has helped
us to see how God gives us meaning and focus when everything else is stripped
away—how kindness toward our neighbors in need can make a difference, that my
life is not just mine but is connected in the web of creation to every other
life, that waiting and watching are important for our development.
We are on the threshold of the wilderness road. It’s disorienting. It’s
disturbing. When every mountain has been
leveled, there are no landmarks to orient ourselves by. All the landmarks are flattened out. We can’t get oriented by anything
familiar. We might find ourselves
longing to go back to what we know, what is safe. However, a voice is calling—a
voice we know well, our shepherd, Jesus.
So we dare to take a step, trusting that abundant life awaits for us and
for all creation. We find that we are not alone, but part of a
great cloud of witnesses, a community of hope and longing, the body of Christ
in the world, responsive, accessible, free and gracious, sharing God’s blessing
and preparing the way.
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