Last week, I spoke about the tragedy in Littleton, Colorado and what I believe is at the heart of the problem, not only with violence in our schools, but with the conflict in Kosovo and other parts of the world, in our country, our communities and in our own relationships. I believe at the heart of these problems we find our own sinfulness. We label those who are different than we are. We hate. We are filled with prejudice, and we single out those who are different.
Of course, this is not a new problem. It's been around for eons. We read about this same problem in our lesson from Acts today. Stephen was a strong and caring man, convicted in his faith. He found a great many enemies, not in the world which surrounded him, but in the synogogue - people who wanted to silence him, and ultimately, to get rid of him. They labelled him a blasphemer for speaking of Christ. They brought up false charges against him and dragged him before the council in order to silence him. His was an unpopular word to those who would not believe. They became enraged and rushed against Stephen. In their fit of rage, they dragged him out of the city and began to hurl stones at him. As his life was slowly, painfully being taken from him, he prayed, asking God to receive his spirit and to forgive his murderers. I simply cannot imagine dying like that. Moreover, I have my doubts that I would be as strong, or as faithful as Stephen if faced with the same fate.
The story of Stephen's faithfulness and death reminded me of a story which impacted my life a few years ago. During my first year of seminary, I invited a friend of mine from the school to speak to my youth group about peacemaking. My friend, Maqsood, was from Pakistan, a country where Christians make up only four percent of the population and are persecuted and some are murdered for their faith. That evening, he told the youth about a professor of his at the Gujranwala Seminary in Pakistan. One day after classes had been dismissed, Maqsood's professor stood waiting for the bus to take him to his village. While he stood waiting, a man accused him of being a Christian and of criticizing Mohammed, and then shot him to death. The people in the streets cheered the gunman for helping to rid their community of another troublesome Christian.
I pondered Maqsood's story the rest of that evening and throughout the course of the next week. I wondered what it would be like for me if I were to live in that sort of politically charged climate. I wondered what would happen if I were accused of being a Christian. What caused me the greatest concern, however, was not so much what I would say or do, but what evidence there might be to convict me of such a crime. I wasn't sure that I would be as willing to face the stones anger, violence and prejudice if they were directed at me in such a way.
We have witnessed such violence in these recent days, and the magnitude of the event draws our attention. Over the past couple of weeks, some of us have even grown tired of hearing the news from Colorado, and in the weeks to come, we will soon forget. As long as the media keeps the situation oversees in front of us, and the military continues to send our own troops, we will pay attention, but our fascination with Kosovo, too, will soon fade. We would like to think that events such as these will leave lasting impressions on us, and we will never forget the lessons we have learned. But events such as these happen in our world and in our own community, and we barely blink an eye because we've grown accustomed to them. We turn on the news or pick up the paper and see stories of drive-by shootings, drunk drivers killing innocent bystanders, family members abusing one other, and crimes of hate played out in our city. But so long as we stay far enough from them that they don't impact us personally, we would rather not pay attention. And when it comes closer to home, we don't even recognize it. It has become part of who we are. Our children fight and argue, calling one another names and we don't pay attention because it's normal. It's part of growing up and they're just children. We hear jokes and comments about others which are filled with prejudice and judgementalism, but they are just jokes, after all. No one meant any harm.
When I downloaded my E-mail inbox this week, I found I had received one of those joke lists of the greatest combacks that we only wish we could say when people really irritate us. As I started reading the list, I chuckled at first, but in light of my study for today's sermon, my reaction began to trouble me. It was just another example of the way in which we hurl stones of hurtfulness at one another, damaging others' self-esteem and dignity. And if we don't laugh with others at the jokes, then we are the ones who are the next to be labelled. We become the brunt of the jokes because we choose to be different, we choose not to proliferate the prejudice. It became all too clear to me that our children aren't the only ones responsible for name calling, labelling and casting stones.
We discover the hurtfulness in our world, and we segregate out those who are different in an effort to protect ourselves. We hurt one another so that we might build ourselves up, gaining strength for the next attack. We find a pocket of safety in our homes or our schools, our circle of friends, our church - and we hurl stones at those who approach the safety net. "Outsiders" throw hurtful stones at us and we are quick to return the volley.
So far, I've been talking a great deal about the stones of hurtfulness, but we hear something much different in our lesson from First Peter. In this passage, we are reminded of a different kind of stone. How refreshing to hear in First Peter that we are to be stones - stones which build up, rather than those which destroy.
I am reminded of a story from the ancient world. Plutarch, in writing about the king of Sparta, tells about an ambassador on a diplomatic mission to the famous city of Sparta. Knowing that its strength was acclaimed throughout all Greece, he expected to see massive fortresses surrounding the city, but he found nothing of the kind. Surprised, the ambassador said to the king, "Sir, you have no fortifications for defense. How can this be?" "Oh, but we are well protected," replied the king. "Come with me tomorrow and I will show you the walls of Sparta." The next day he led the ambassador to the plains where Sparta's army was assembled in full battle dress. Pointing proudly to his soldiers, who stood fearlessly in place, the king said, "Behold! The walls of Sparta--ten thousand men and every one a brick!" (1)
We too, can be bricks -- we can be the bricks of destruction which are hurled at others, or the bricks which are the living stones, to build up the body of Christ, who is the cornerstone of the Church. I said last week that we, the church, must be at the heart and beginning of the solution to the problems we face today, and we do that by refusing to hate. But we can do more. We can insist on spreading love. Love of God and love of one another is at the heart of the foundation of the church. Love of one another strengthens each of us, the living stones which make up the spiritual house, the body of Christ. This is who we are as the church, and individually, members of it. We are the ones who can begin to love God's people, to heal the hurts of others, and to help them know the grace of our Lord, Jesus Christ. This is who we are as a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God's own people.
A colleague claims that there are three things our society is longing to hear are: 1) "I love you" 2) "You are forgiven" and 3) "Supper is ready." These are words that the church says every week. These are what make up the spiritual milk which grows us into salvation as living stones. 1) "I love you." Three very powerful words. God loves us and has proven that love in countless ways. God has given us his only Son out of that great love, and calls us to love God and to love neighbor. 2) "You are forgiven." We begin our worship with the assurance of God's forgiveness. In turn, we are to forgive others as we have been forgiven. We pray it each week in the prayer our Lord taught his disciples. 3) "Supper is ready." Loved and forgiven, we approach the table of grace. The church comes to Christ, forgiven, loved and freed to share that love with others. Perhaps it is time to reclaim our place in the world. (2)
We are a peculiar people, we Christians. All around us the world is full of hurt and violence, anger and hatred, but we can and should be different. In the early centuries, Christians were persecuted for following Christ. Today, we are no longer persecuted for our beliefs, but often we are ridiculed and our children shamed because we believe in the God of love. But we Christians are a part of a larger community, the community of faith, built on the cornerstone of Christ, each of us living stones which lend to one another the strength we need to stand in the face of adversity.
Would we be bold enough to face the persecution for which Stephen died? Would we be bold enough to die in the face of an angry gunman for the faith which we claim so easily today? Together we can be that bold, adding the strength of our stones to the foundation which keeps us strong. But we must put the stones soundly in place, according to the cornerstone which keeps us in line. We cannot withhold even one, for that will weaken the foundation. v In the days and weeks ahead, I hope we will remember Cassie in Littleton, Colorado, who died because she was willing to say yes to Christ, and Stephen who became the first Christian martyr, and a Pakistani professor who was willing to share and teach his faith with others, and a host of others who had firmly set their faith according to the living stone of Christ. I hope we will work each day to remind ourselves and one another of the foundation upon which we stand. We are living stones, stones which strengthen and build, not stones of hatred and prejudice. "Once [we were] not a people, but now [we are] God's people; once [we had] not received mercy, but now [we have] received mercy." Let us "proclaim the mighty acts of him who called [us] out of darkness into his marvelous light. Let us tell the world, "I love you. You are forgiven. Supper is ready."
Notes
1. 'He Was a Brick!" From Sower's Seed of Encouragement, Fifth Planting, pp. 64-65. Copyright 1998 by Brian Cavanaugh, T.O.R. Paulist Press, Mahwah, NJ.
2. Pastor Ken Gibson on behalf of The Copper Country Clergy Council, in a letter dated April 21, 1999, shared on the Internet meeting, Homilies, by Bass Mitchell, April 26, 1999.
© 1999 Michelle James, all rights reserved
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