Sermon: Our Universe Has A Bias Toward Justice (April 13, 2014)

Sermon: Matthew 21:1-11

Last week, one of my friends shared some sad yet also inspiring news via Facebook.  

The headlines read as follows; “Jesuit Murdered in Syria: Ignatian Family mourns.” “The Ignatian family mourns the loss of Dutch Jesuit Father Frans van der Lugt, who lived in the war-torn Syrian city of Homs, and was killed on Monday, April 7, 2014.”

You may well ask how I can introduce this ‘murder’ story as inspiring news. Abduction and murder hardly seem like cause for inspiration - but then we would be forgetting that how anyone dies should never be as important as how they lived.

Until I saw this Facebook post, I didn’t know that this great man of faith even existed. Yet his words that are now shown on your power-point screen caught my eyes and heart. “I don’t see Muslims or Christians. I see, above all, human beings.”

To give you some brief information about who he was, this man of faith, a Dutch Jesuit priest, has worked in Syria since 1966. I believe that there would be no better description of him than his own words about what he believed. So here we go;

In his own words: “Christians and Muslims are going through a difficult and painful time and we are faced with many problems. The greatest of these is hunger. People have nothing to eat. There is nothing more painful than watching mothers searching for food for children in the streets. … I will not accept that we die of hunger. I do not accept that we drown in a sea of hunger, letting the waves of death drag us under. We love life, we want to live. And we do not want to sink in a sea of pain and suffering.”

It is very interesting and at the same time very painful to ask why certain human conditions often end up with murdering a person of faith, silencing a human being’s action of faith, even when the faith is not about keeping the dead doctrines or dogmas or what oppresses us alive, but a humanistic faith that keeps us for life - for keeping our brothers and sisters, who are created all equally in God’s image, for life. However, throughout human history, we have seen countless times when individuals and societies choose to murder or silence a person of faith for their acts of radical love and trust and their expressions of deep concern for our divided and hurting human condition.  

According to the news coverage about his ministry and death, Fr. Frans had been influential in the county on many levels such as youth programmes, spirituality, inter-religious dialogue and politics. During the lasting turmoil in Syria, he was trapped with many others by the government’s siege of Homs. He was given the chance to leave Homs but he refused to do so. He played a crucial role in helping others who were also trapped there survive months without a dependable food supply.

Two thousand years ago, Jesus entered the oppressed, torn and turbulent city, Jerusalem, that suffered from the oppressive and violent occupation or “programme” (John Dominic Crossan) by the Roman Empire and the schemes of its own native religious/political authorities that only added the burdens of the common people. Jesus’ approach to building a community of faith was non-violence oriented, as is well-represented in today’s story – Jesus entering the gates of Jerusalem, sitting on a donkey. Jesus’ community was a non-violent, yet resistant community that refused to accept the agenda of Rome which focused on political dominion. On the contrary the agenda of Jesus was founded on an ethic ‘sharing’ in everything we do. The banner of Jesus’ community might read like this: “When you are in Jesus’ community, you never go hungry” physically, emotionally, spiritually.

Today’s sacred story tells us that “A very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, and others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road.” The story continues on,saying that the crowds “Went ahead of him” and shouted, “Hosanna, Hosanna, Hosanna,” meaning “Save us, Rescue us!” As Jesus and his crowds entered Jerusalem, the city (probably not the whole city, maybe enough of a group that the Roman’s always alert to rebellious or resistance types would wonder about this new threat…) was in turmoil, asking “Who is this man?”, unsure of how much information they could glean about this man and the big waves of crowds arising with anticipation and hopefulness.

When dominant groups oppress others, what they are most afraid of is that the oppressed regain their sense of hope - hope can lead to desire for real change.

In this great story of marching and parading with palms waving and with shouting and whispering to one another, ‘Who is this man? Who is this man?” a good reader of stories can get  the hint immediately about how this story will unfold. A dark and shadowed human condition will reveal its violent nature and so subsequently a tragedy – kidnapping, exile or murder as an attempt to remove the truth-teller, peace builder and hope-finder. After this moment of glory, praise and palm waving, it is no wonder that we descend into the Holy Week – the week of passion, suffering and death on Good Friday. The Cross of our Jesus is the manifestation of human darkness which refuses to hear the truth, to share another’s pain, to build the bridges of peace with LIGHT.  However, we also learn that the Cross is not the end of the story. So here is the good news. This is where the heart of the Gospel lies. The Crucifixion is not the end of the story. Beneath the cross is not a place where failure is placed. It is a place where we are reminded of what our life’s purpose and meaning actually should be and can be, which is “Overcoming our fears in order to struggle to choose life, save life, heal life.” Quoting Fr. Frans’ words, “We love life, we want to live.” Don’t we?

We watched the TRC (Truth and Reconciliation Commission) held in Edmonton last month, and learned that the cross must not be a symbol of power or superiority that the church has traditionally enjoyed and claimed for itself - it must be a painful reminder for us that we are here to save lives and heal lives, not to destroy them.  

Beneath the cross, we don’t see Muslims or Christians, however we or however the world name the divide between children of the same God. We don’t see ourselves and others by names, races, or faith traditions. Beneath the cross, “We see, above all, human beings.”: human beings imbued with both darkness and light, and with pains and the courage to “be” and live AND live out hope.

Then and there, beneath the cross, we bear witness that our Universe is biased toward justice. ( …our universe, in the words of Bishop Tutu, “has a bias toward justice.”) We learn from the cross that our Universe is not a vacuum of meaning, like when a life dies, every meaning that has belonged to the life suddenly dissolves into the vacuum of nothing. No. Beneath the Cross, we believe, and dare to believe that our Universe is carried by Divine grace/ Divine providence that has a bias toward justice and that we are called to be a meaning-maker – the meaning that is not severed by a death event but marches in our evolving journey toward justice and peace beyond death.

In our endeavor to believe and to live fully with God, the most important thing is to know which path we have chosen to walk – glory and darkness, with shadows hiding our faults? Or the cross for hope, with its searching, all-revealing light? Whatever spiritual and/or religious path we have chosen, what is most critical in our endeavour is to actually walk the path we have chosen through the love of Christ and/or through the wisdom of the One Divine grace that leads us all.

May the path toward peace be our strength and the pillar of our journeys beginning at the foot of the cross. May we be seekers of the truth, and keepers of our kin – brothers and sisters of God’s family. Amen.