Today's Sermon

Here we are once again reading the story of the Isrealites. We break it out every so often to remind us of from where we have come. It began with Joseph and a family feeling some responsibility to Pharaoh, a kind and generous leader. But eventually that kind and generous pharaoh died and was replaced by someone else, someone who didn't know Joseph. And then instead of feeling responsible to pharaoh they were slaves to pharaoh. And the work became harder and the treatment harsher, until the oppression was greater than any human should know. Pharaoh was ordering all male babies be killed. But there were nursemaids, Shiprah and Puah, who refused to kill the infants that they delivered. And there was a boy who lived, his mother in order to protect him floated him in a basket down the river in hopes that an Egyptian woman would find him and care for him. And that is what happened, but not just any woman, Pharaoh's daughter. And Pharaoh's daughter raised Moses as her own son, in the palace. Then when Moses grew up he heard God's call to lead the Israelites out of slavery. Despite plague after plague Pharaoh held out until one last plague that killed all the first born Egyptian males. And so the Israelites fled Egypt, but right on their back was the Egyptian army. When they made it to the red sea they feared that they would be slaughtered by the army. But instead the red sea opened up and they were able to cross to the other side and the Egyptian army was drowned by the returning of the sea. One would think that would be the end--the struggle would be over. But instead the struggle lasted a long time. The Israelites rebelled--they moaned and they groaned, they took more than they needed, and they worshipped other gods. And so what should have been a short trip to the Promised land became a forty year journey followed by another forty year journey. And only then did they make it to the promised land. But Moses and all those others who first left Egypt did not live to see this new land. Moses did get a glimpse, when he stood on the mountaintop but only a glimpse. There story was long but it moved toward promised land. This is their story but this is also our story.
And then this week we also relived another story. There was a group of people who lived peaceably on a continent called Africa. They lived there until one day a group of men came and put them on a boat. They arrived in a land that for many before them had been a place of refuge, a place of freedom, but for them would be a place of slavery and oppression. And for many years they worked on plantations, picking white people’s cotton, cleaning white people’s houses, and raising white people’s children. This practice of owning people, of treating people as second class was to last a long time, longer than the people who were owned ever imagined. It lead to a war, a battle that was waged between people of the same country, men from the north fought men from the south. Brother against brother. All over whether it was okay to own another human being, whether it was alright to treat one person as less than another person. But justice eventually won out and slaves were freed, these Africans would no longer be owned. That however was not the end. Instead the movement towards freedom would take longer. There would still be oppression, though citizens they weren't allowed to vote. Though citizens they would still be relegated to different lines, different water fountains, different places on the bus. It would take leaders to lead them closer to the promised land. It would take a woman who refused to sit at the back of the bus. It would take college students sitting down at a lunch counter. It would take a preacher from Georgia who had a dream. It would take acts of peace and love in the face of anger and hate. And even then he would utter these words: “I just want to do God's will. And He's allowed me to go to the mountain. And I've looked over, and I've seen the promised land! I may not get there with you, but I want you to know tonight that we as a people will get to the promised land. It would be 40 years from when he uttered those words that we would reach a day where the dream was fulfilled that someone would be judged not by the color of their skin but by the content of their character. This is their story. This is our story.
That same man who had a dream and who went to the mountaintop also talked about the moral arc of history bending at the elbow towards justice. It is long, the stories take longer than we would ever expect but they bend towards justice, they bend towards the promised land. Have those folks who traveled through the desert finally arrived in the promised land of peace? No. Have those folks who traveled across the ocean finally arrived in the promised land of freedom? No. But they are closer. We are closer. And yet this week we also landed smack dab in the middle of a story that feels more like Egypt and the plantation than like the other side of the red sea or the front of the bus. But it is the same story. It is still the story that is bending towards justice. It is still a story that begins with a people trapped in a closet. Trapped in darkened alleys of abuse and self hatred. There were a group of people who decided they were too tired to stay in the darkness any longer. People who stepped out of a bar called Stonewall and said we won't allow ourselves to be silenced anymore. A people who claimed their journey towards the promised land as well. It is a story that expands from gay ghetto to gay ghetto all over the country. It has its plague but it also has its heroes too. It is a story where a gay man could become a city supervisor--the first elected office for a gay person anywhere in the United States. But like Moses and Martin before him he would not live to see the promised land. Nor would any of those people who first left the walls of that Stonewall oppression. This is their story. This is our story.
And like those before us we are still being told to wait, told that we are not worthy of full equality. That we can't have the promised land yet. And this week we pushed back. We faced loss. In the journey towards the promised land we met resistance. And we are wondering if like the Israelites we've just been brought out here to die? Will we ever see the promised land? Are we merely the ones who left Egypt, who got freed from the plantation? Will we ever know true freedom? The grief is great, because we see hope after hope dieing. Del Martin did not see the promised land. Will Phyllis see the promised land? Will you or I see the promised land? Is there any hope or will this story's arc really bend toward justice?
To which I'll say Yes, there is hope. I'll say it loudly and again, "yes, there is hope." You say it with me, "yes there is hope" This story will lead to justice too. As Paul says we can grieve but not without hope. We have and continue to see signs of hope, signs of hope that are greater than any campaign sign.
Here is a story. My friend Mary Sue, straight mother of two, worked tirelessly in San Diego to defeat Proposition 8. She worked phone banks, She talked to press. She held signs. She spoke at inter-faith services. She did this because she knew that their story is our story. That as long as one person isn't free no one is free. She did this because whether or not she ever sees the promised land she hopes that her children and her grandchildren will.
She saw signs of hope on election day. She got up at 5 AM and went to stand on a street corner in the pouring rain--unusual for San Diego. She did this in hopes that she might sway someone's vote. But the distance they were from the polling station prevented them from really being seen by anyone. She was cold and she was wet and she was frustrated. And finally one couple drove by and spoke to them--they were opposed to proposition 8 as well and so they thanked Mary Sue and the people she was standing with. Then a little while later the couple returned with an umbrella and offered to go buy them coffee. Not because they had to but because they knew too that as long as one person is not free none of us are free.
We are living in a different country. A man who would have been forced to live in a plantation can now live in the White House. There are signs of hope all around us. Grieve, there is much loss in the world, but hope because there is much hope too.
We see signs of hope. We know that God's arc of history bends towards justice. We know that God walks with us, along side of us, in the midst of the celebrations and in the midst of the times of grief. So today we grieve but not as those without hope. And we grieve but we know that this is not just our story this is their story too. This is those drag queen’s story, this is Harvey's story, this is Del's story. When we do reach the promised land, they reach the promised land. Our hope is their hope.

This is my No on Prop 8 sign. But it is only a piece of paper. The words on it are only words, but they represent something great. They represented a hope we had for full equality. But we also know that there are still signs of hope, signs of God’s hope for a reconciled people, a people that are fully valued. What are your signs of hope. In this election season where did you see signs of hope? Was it an interaction with someone at work, someone at school, someone distributing fliers on the street? Take some time now and create a new sign of hope.

I kept my No on 8 sign in my window as a reminder for those who passed by. Take this sign with you for times when you need to be reminded of the hope that is still available in our world. Their hope. Our hope. Amen.