Last Week's Sermon

Here is last week's sermon, September 7, 2008.

A few weeks ago we talked about the three phrases that you all had come up with while discussing the possibility of a new name for our congregation. And I asked you to tell me what was underneath, or what was the story that lay behind those three names. Why did you hold those up as exemplars of our life together? But I didn't say specifically what those potential names say to me. So for the next three weeks I want to do that. Next week I'll talk about spiritual journey and then the following week about grace. But today I want to give you my thoughts on the phrase "beloved community."
I don't think it was in regard to this phrase but one comment was "well you use that phrase a lot." I think it was the spiritual journey phrase. And that is true. I do say that a lot. I say it every week as a matter of fact at the beginning of our worship service. I, however, don't use the phrase beloved community all that often. Instead it is a concept that I think embodies more what I believe about myself and community than the specific language I use.
Martin Luther King Jr talked about the beloved community. He was speaking about the integration of blacks into society. You'll notice that I didn't say desegregation. I specifically said integration because that is what King saw as the end goal. Desegregation was merely a change in laws. It allowed blacks the ability to go to a school close to them instead of being bussed miles away. Desegregation allowed blacks to drink from the same water fountains as whites, sit in the same sections of the theater as whites, and ride in the front of the bus just like whites. But in the end it was a set of laws. It didn't always adjust attitudes. Integration was something different.
Integration didn't happen as a result in the change of laws but as a result in the change of heart. It was a realization that blacks were not only entitled to the same privileges as whites but that they were equal to whites. And for King that was not just a matter of citizenship but a matter of humanity. When he talked about integration he talked about the beloved community. A community where all were accepted because they were equal not just in the sight of the law but in the sight of God. A community where all were not just equal but all were human. A place where blacks were treated not as commodities, as hired hands, as pieces of property, but as humans. A place where all of humanity was valued and respected, not for what it could do but for who it was. The beloved community was a place where all were he's and she's not its. A community that recognized, as Paul said, all were created from one ancestor.
I talk about the beloved community because I believe it speaks to the welcoming and affirming movement just as it did to the other civil rights movements before it. Gays and lesbians have been told that they are less than, that they are not equal, that they are not created in God's image. The image of a deviant, a pedophile, an alcoholic, but certainly not an image of God. And we have been working for many years now in the welcoming and affirming movements to get that idea changed in the church. I was supposed to be in New Orleans this past week to talk about how we can continue to affect change in our denomination.
And I believe that is an important work. Just as I believe the work done to change the laws of desegregation were important. However, I have to say I'm not all that interested in the work for myself. I'm glad there are people who are called to that work-the work of changing denominational laws and rules. But I am called to something else. I am called to helping people change hearts. Because for me I am done asking someone to tell me that I am beloved. I don't need another person or institution to give me my sense of worth. Because I have a sense of worth that comes from somewhere else. A belovedness that was granted to me by God. I have received blessings from other humans but in my heart I know that I received a blessing from the Creator of my being. And I believe all of us have received that same blessing. We are all beloved whether the world believes it or not. And honestly whether we believe it or not.
I have a new favorite musical. It is called Title of Show. It just opened on Broadway this summer. It is about two guys trying to write a musical about two guys trying to write a musical. Got that? Anyway through out the show they are talking about the creative process. And there is one song called Die Vampire Die. The song talks about these vampires who try to suck the life out of the creative process, who try and tell us we aren't creative, we can't draw or we can't sing or we can't act or we can't whatever it is that we most love to do. But then there is this verse about the "mother of all vampires the vampire of despair. The vampire who will wake you up at 4 AM to say things like.
Who do you think you are kidding?
You look like a fool.
No matter how hard you try you'll never be good enough.
Why is it that if some dude walked up to me on the subway platform and said these things to me I'd think he was a mentally ill asshole but if the vampire inside my head says it it is the voice of reason."
I think the voice that all too often is the loudest in telling us we are not God's beloved is the one that is inside our head. Not the one inside our heart, because I think the one in our heart is the voice of God. No it is the voice in our head that is telling us we are worthless and that we really shouldn't be around children. That we aren't quite right.
But it is also the voice that is speaking to all people everywhere telling them that there isn't enough of God's love to go around. It is the voice that pits me against them. It is the voice that leads to hatred, to violence, to war. It is the voice that leads us away from the beloved community rather than towards it.
Martin Luther King didn't just think the beloved community would be ushered in when blacks were integrated into society. That would be a sign of movement towards it, but it would only be a sign. MLK was talking about a global beloved community. A community where all people are created equal. We are all created from one ancestor. And we are all loved equally by that same creator. When we live out of that knowledge that we are all loved then it is more difficult to point a gun at someone. It is more difficult to pass the homeless person on the street. It is more difficult to not provide aid to those in need. The beloved community is not just a place where all races are welcome, but instead a place where all are welcome. A place where tax money is spent on books instead of bombs; hospitals instead of prisons; spreading love instead of democracy. A place where community organizers aren't ridiculed but are seen as agents of change working to bring about the beloved community.
When you live out of your belovedness you know that there is enough love to go around. If there is enough love to go around then we can fulfill the great commandment to love one another.
Becoming the beloved community is difficult at best. I'm not sure MLK would have ever said that it was even fully possible in our broken world, but it was and is our eternal goal and God's eternal desire. It doesn't take much to recognize that it is a dangerous calling. King gave his life for it. However, in the end he said it was worth it. Because he had been to the mountaintop and he knew that while he might not get to the promised land of the beloved community one day we would get there. In his last sermon delivered the night before he was shot. He said this: "...I'm happy, tonight. I'm not worried about anything. I'm not fearing any man. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord." Not even death could take away his deep sense that the work of love was the greatest work. And that not even death could take away the blessing that he had received, the blessing that said to him that he too was the beloved.
If we are to be the beloved community it is not enough to love ourselves. It is not enough to say that God loves us too, because we are black, or brown, or gay or straight. We must give love to the rest of the world as well. We must speak up for all people everywhere. We must remind our world and ourselves that we do not hold proprietary rights to God's love and blessing. We must make sure that that mother of all vampires does not have the last word. Amen.