Trinity Episcopal Church

In the name of God, Creator, Redeemer, and Sanctifier   Amen

I am not a big fan of television – unless the Red Sox are playing - but there is one show, no longer on TV of course, that I really liked watching called West Wing.  It centered around the White House and the presidency of a character named Jed Bartlett, who, surrounded by his bright, articulate and committed West Wing staff struggled to steer a course between what is politically right—or I should say, politically expedient, and what is—reflective of his core beliefs.

One sequence I remember dealt with the difficult issue of capital punishment.  Jed Bartlett the man is opposed to the death penalty.  But Jed Bartlett has been elected by a country in which 70% of the people support the death penalty.  At some point a young man, guilty of drug dealing and killing two people, has fought for his life all the way to the supreme court.  When the Supreme court refuses his appeal, his only hope is that the President will commute his sentence to life in prison.  It is an agonizing decision for President Jed Bartlett.  One that he had not wanted to make, a cup from which he did not want to drink.  On the one hand, his personal beliefs as a Christian tell him that the death penalty is wrong.  The list of the other countries in the world who still have capital punishment is a short one, one of the aids tells him, “Nigeria, Saudi Arabia and Iraq.” “Really a list you want to be on,” the President replies glumly. 

As the program progresses, he asks various aides and advisors and friends what they think of capital punishment.  Toby, who is Jewish, tells him that capital punishment is wrong.  Another aide, a Quaker, tells him capital punishment is wrong.  His Roman Catholic faith tells him that capital punishment is wrong.  Still he wrestles with his obligation to uphold the will of the people.  Should he follow his conscience—or uphold the decision of the Court.  In the end, he decides to allow the legal system to proceed, and the young man is executed. 

After that decision is made he meets with his priest who asks him if he prays.  “Constantly,” the President replied, “and I don’t get many answers.  I’m getting pretty tired of it.” Thoughtfully the priest tells him the story about a man who lived in a Southern town where a hurricane was due.  This man heard on the radio the warning “get out of town, the flood is coming, you’ll drown.” But the man had faith, he prayed, he believed God would save him, so he stayed.  Then the water rose, and the man climbed to the upper story of his house.  Two guys in a rowboat came by.  “Get in the boat,” they called, “the water is coming, you’ll drown.” But the man said, “I have faith, I prayed, God will save me,” so he stayed.  Eventually the man had to move to the roof.  A helicopter came by and tried to persuade the man to get in.  “The water is coming, you’ll drown,” the rescuers called.  “I am a man of faith, I prayed, God will save me,” he replied, and he stayed.  And then he drowned. 

Marching up to the gates of Heaven, he demanded to see God.  “I had faith,” he cried, “I prayed, I believed you would save me from the flood.” God looked at him sadly.  “I sent you a radio message.  I sent you two guys in a rowboat.  I sent you helicopter.  What are you doing here?”

The priest looked at the President, sitting very quietly.  “God sent you a Rabbi.  God sent you a Quaker.  God sent you a priest.  What are you doing here?” The president looked down at his hands.  The priest asked, “would you like me to hear your confession?” The program ended with the President kneeling beside his priest’s chair, hearing him pour out his pain and suffering for the cup that had not passed from him.

Friday is the eighth anniversary of the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon.  It is one of those events that has left so great an impression on the fabric of society that life - as it was known before - no longer exists.  In those 8 years since we have seen hurricanes, tsunamis, wars and more bombings.  We have seen violence on the streets, and drug and gang wars.    We have seen our church – and not only our denomination – others too - torn apart by one exclusive group after another – torn apart by differing factions who think that they know the mind of God and who choose anger, separation, and hostile rhetoric over restoration and reconciliation.  We have seen our country and others respond to violence with more violence.  And mostly the people who have been hurt the most are those who were simply in the way – the weak, the elderly, the children, the women, people of color, people of differing sexuality, or the poor.  So I have a question for us today.  Given that we live in a world where such tragedies happen what kind of a response does God expect from us?  If violence changes the life we know, what does our scripture, tradition, and reason tell us our response is to be?

The author of our lesson from Isaiah was reflecting on just such a pivotal event in the history of the people of Israel.  For two generations those Israelites who had been captured and carried off to Babylon had lived in exile, far from their families, away from the central places of their faith, out of options, out of control.  The life that they had known in Palestine had been swept away on the winds of war and yet what we hear in these verses is not a voice of despair, but rather a voice of hope, a voice of redemption, and restoration. 

Without a doubt there was a very literal political and economic slant to Isaiah.  Isaiah's poetic prophecy is intended to rally a people to a new fervor, to encourage them to not give up, to remind them of the power of God to free them from their captivity.  But there is another dimension to freedom – that is freedom of the spirit.  To be released from captivity means not only to be free to move about, but also free from our fear, free from the burden of guilt, free from the pain of grief.  To be free is to be filled with joy and love and to know that we are loved in return, but if we let the event – the pivotal event – define us, control us – if we make decisions because of a knee jerk reaction to the traumas in our lives or in response to our human frailties then we will have turned away from the very source of love and joy.

Sometimes the tragedies that beset us are outside of our understanding or ability to intercede, but too many times they are of our own making - through ignorance, greed, or the desire for power over one another.  We who desire Love, desire God - so much - constantly alienate ourselves from it.  So what is it that we are left with?  How do we, who live in the constant murkiness of real life, respond authentically to the persistent itch in our souls that is our conscience - our desire for God’s closeness?  How do we reconcile our faith with life’s realities?   Do we turn our backs on the suffering or do we engage?

I wish that I could tell you that I have all the answers.  Some pastors seem to believe that they do.  Some politicians believe that they do also.  But like the prophet Isaiah I just do not believe that any action or inaction that we might take will reconcile this world of ours.  Only God can do that – and yet I also know that we are part of that healing process.  Our faithful turning back to God does make a difference.  This conundrum of faith and works in response to the realities of life that we face every day is at the core of the mystery of the Gospel of Jesus.   When the writer of James tells us that faith without works is dead and Mark recounts a story of two hurting people - approaching Jesus in faith and trust and then being healed by Him - they are in fact telling us that it is not either/or but rather both/and.  Our hurting world will not be totally healed by our own actions.  No bombs, or missiles, or security measures, or miracle drug, or laws can protect us from the ravages of life.  But it is our fear, our lack of faith - that causes us to move about blindly, to turn our backs on the weak and helpless, to strike out at those we perceive to be our enemy and causing pain to those who are innocent in the wake of our action.  Whether we are acting on the global stage or in our own backyard, the result is the same. 

Anger, vengefulness, simmering hatred and violence are products of fear not faith and the only possible outcome is more anger and violence.  But there is another way.  That way is the way of Jesus when he acknowledges his short-sightedness to the woman who sought his blessing.  That way is the way of Jesus when he opens our ears to hear and our mouths to speak.  It is the path of reconciliation and restoration and redemption.  It is the path of welcoming all comers into our midst and ministering to their needs in the same manner as we minister to our own without regard to the color of their skin or their faith, or their age, or their sexuality.  It is the path of forgiveness and compassion and it is the hardest request that God makes of us. 

The reality of our lives is the same as the reality of the fictional president on West Wing.  We are never quite sure whether we have done the right thing or not.  But we keep trying, we keep praying, we keep turning and turning back to God who loves us, who cares for us, who calls us, and who walks with us through all of the 9/11s of our lives.  Jesus did not promise us a tragedy free life – no matter how "right" we might be.  What Jesus told us is that we would never be alone. 

This coming Thursday the Rev’d Jane Gould is coming to speak to us about the decisions made at General Convention.  She will no doubt talk about “ubuntu” - I am because your are…  She will talk about our faithful response to God and to each other as God’s church,  I hope that you will all join me in these important decisions in the life of our church.  We will never be without God's love and that my friends is what we are called to do in return.  Because Jesus loves and accepts us, we are called to turn away from anger and revenge and to reach out in love and acceptance to all of our brothers and sisters.  It is our faithful response to the God.

Grant us, O Lord, to trust in you with all our hearts; for, as you always resist the proud who confide in their own strength, so you never forsake those who make their boast of your mercy. Amen.