“Weeks like this, I find myself searching for that wisdom of endurance, of tenacity, the wisdom that will soften my heart even as I feel it hardening. That will give us as a church, as a nation what we need not only to survive but to thrive for such a time as this.”
Sermon by Mike Kinman at All Saints Church, Pasadena, on Sunday, February 9, 2020. (with Maya Angelou reading by Lynndi Scott) Readings: Isaiah 58:1-12 and Matthew 5:13-20.
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We, unaccustomed to courage
exiles from delight
live coiled in shells of loneliness
until love leaves its high holy temple
and comes into our sight
to liberate us into life.
Love arrives
and in its train come ecstasies
old memories of pleasure
ancient histories of pain.
Yet if we are bold,
love strikes away the chains of fear
from our souls.
We are weaned from our timidity
In the flush of love’s light
we dare be brave
And suddenly we see
that love costs all we are
and will ever be.
Yet it is only love
which sets us free.
-Maya Angelou, Touched By An Angel
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Weeks like this, I find myself searching.
Searching for wisdom that will be a light to shine through the bleakness.
For wisdom that will guide us, that will comfort us
Wisdom we can share together.
In 2008, Bishop Prince Singh of Rochester said, “in a time of crisis, we need to look to the experts. And in a time of economic crisis, the experts are the poor.”
It is a time of crisis, and the experts are those who in the most challenging of circumstances not just to survive but to thrive.
Weeks like this, I find myself searching for that wisdom of endurance, of tenacity, the wisdom that will soften my heart even as I feel it hardening. That will give us as a church, as a nation what we need not only to survive but to thrive for such a time as this.
And I know it is time to look to the experts.
And so, I open up the scriptures … and I turn to Maya Angelou.
We, unaccustomed to courage
exiles from delight
live coiled in shells of loneliness
until love leaves its high holy temple
and comes into our sight
to liberate us into life.
If you remember I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings, you remember Maya Angelou’s story of exile and liberation.
When she was eight years old, she was raped by her mother’s boyfriend. Eight years old. She told her brother … and after the boyfriend spent one night in jail … Maya’s uncles kicked and beat him to death.
Maya was so traumatized she didn’t speak a word. Not for a few days or weeks or even months. For years.
She wrote: “I thought, ‘My voice killed him. I killed that man, because I told his name.’ And then I thought I would never speak again, because my voice would kill anyone.” Maya inhaled book after book of poetry… but when she exhaled, not one word came out.
Then she met Bertha Flowers. Mrs. Flowers was a teacher at her school. Mrs. Flowers was loving … and faithful … and patient. She didn’t force or try to trick words out of Maya. She met her where she was in her pain, loved her in the midst of her pain. Slowly, patiently, gave her the courage to not be a prisoner of her pain.
Together they read the poetry Maya loved, Mrs. Flowers’ voice helping her feel the deeper meaning the words took when a human voice released them into the air. And gradually, slowly, patiently, she loved the words from Maya’s lips.
“You do not love poetry, not until you speak it,” Mrs. Flowers said to young Maya. And finally, at age 13, Maya Angelou opened her lips and poetry took wing from her tongue. After five years of silence, love had set her free.
It is a time of crisis.
We need to look to the experts.
And Maya Angelou delivers the wisdom we need.
We are weaned from our timidity
In the flush of love’s light
we dare be brave
And suddenly we see
that love costs all we are
and will ever be.
Yet it is only love
which sets us free.
Two speeches this week captured my attention – Mitt Romney’s on the floor of the Senate and the President’s at the National Prayer Breakfast. And as I watched each, two things struck me.
The first is that two men spoke truths they absolutely believed … only one spoke his truth at great risk and the other used his truth to put others at great risk. One risked a cost. The other exacted a price.
But more than that, I was struck by what that difference did in my heart, what that did to my soul.
As I listened to Senator Romney speak, I was uplifted. I felt hope. I felt freedom.
As I listened to Senator Romney risk the wrath of power to speak his conscience, I was touched by the same angel of which the caged bird sings:
We, unaccustomed to courage
exiles from delight
live coiled in shells of loneliness
until love leaves its high holy temple
and comes into our sight
to liberate us into life.
I asked myself, “Would I feel the same way if I disagreed with him? If his courage convicted a president I supported?” All I can say is, I think so. I hope so. I think, I hope I haven’t become so jaded and suspicious that I still wouldn’t trust and be moved by someone displaying such courage and vulnerability for an outcome which I opposed. I think so. I hope so.
Because what I felt inside was not a partisan vindication of “one more vote for our side” but hope and freedom. For we have become unaccustomed to courage. And in that moment … even if just for a moment … I could feel love striking away the chains of fear from our national soul.
Then I listened to the president give a soliloquy of fear, derision and vindictiveness, and I was filled with pain, sadness and rage. As I listened to the president, my heart was tempted to hatred.
And again, I asked myself, “Would I feel the same way if I agreed with him? If I were one of the faith leaders in that room nodding, clapping, smiling and laughing in that moment, what would be in my heart?”
And I realized, I have been there. I have heard speeches like that … I have probably given speeches like that where I have called out enemies believing I was on the side of the angels. Where I confused God’s righteousness of loving enemies with my own self-righteousness of defeating not injustice or systemic evil but an enemy with a name, a face, a story.
And in those moments, I did feel righteous. I felt powerful in that way being in a group bound together in conviction of righteousness makes us feel powerful. And I felt good.
But what I didn’t feel in those moments …was love.
What I didn’t feel …was joy.
I felt righteous in those moments, I felt strong.
But while I felt my neck stiffen and my chest swell
… I did not feel my heart soften
… I did not feel my spirit soar.
I felt strong. But I did
Not.
Feel.
Free.
We, unaccustomed to courage
exiles from delight
live coiled in shells of loneliness
until love leaves its high holy temple
and comes into our sight
to liberate us into life.
As I watched and listened to the president, I was struck most deeply by how loveless and joyless he was as he spoke. As I looked at the faces of those on the dais and in the audience, I could see necks stiffen and chests swell … but I could see no evidence of hearts softening and spirits soaring.
I could hear him rattling the chains of fear
… but I could not hear the songs of love that set us free.
“You are the light of the world,” Jesus says in this morning’s reading from Matthew.
You … we … are the light of the world.
Light.
In the Greek, phōs
… not just brightness or brilliance… but truth.
Jesus echoing the psalmist in linking light and truth reminds us it is not enough for us merely to speak our truth, we have to ask, “Is it a truth that brings light to the bleakest places … not one that merely consigns a different group to the shadows?”
“Is it a truth that makes hearts soften and spirits soar and not necks stiffen and chests swell?”
“Is it a truth that makes us march lockstep into battle or be broken open and dance?”
“Is it a truth that brands people as enemies or is it a truth that echoes the wisdom of Maya Angelou when she sang:
‘A wise woman wishes to be no one’s enemy; a wise woman refuses to be anyone’s victim.’”
Jesus looks deep into our eyes and says, “You are the truth of the world. Let your truth shine.”
Isaiah exhorts us, “Shout for all you are worth! Raise your voice like a trumpet!”
And what shall we shout? It is a time of crisis. Lives are at stake. It is no time for silence. So, we look to the experts for wisdom. What poetry will be coaxed from the pain of our lives and take wing from our lips?
Does the prophet bid us take our pain and shout, “Crush your enemies?”
Does the prophet bid us take our anger and shout, “Beat them down” and “Lock them up?”
No. it is a time of crisis, and the prophet coaxes from lips long silent the poetry of love, the songs of freedom.
“Remove the chains of injustice! Undo the ropes of the yoke! Let those who are oppressed go free, and break every yoke you encounter! Share your bread with those who are hungry, and shelter homeless poor people! Clothe those who are naked, and do not hide from the needs of your own flesh and blood! Do this and your light will shine like the dawn — and your healing will break forth like lightning! Your integrity will go before you, and the glory of God will be your rearguard. Cry, and God will answer; call and God will say ‘I am here—provided you remove from your midst all oppression, finger-pointing, and malicious talk!’”
We are people of light and truth.
Light and truth that strikes away the chains of fear, that liberates us into life.
Light and truth that does not make our necks stiffen and chests swell but our hearts soften and spirits soar.
That companions us through the valley of deep grief, old memories of pleasure, ancient histories of pain.
Light and truth that comes from communities bound together not by a common enemy but by love and joy.
Love. Joy. That is our charge. That is our destiny. To be, to create communities of courageous truth with love and joy at the center. That is how we become the city on the hill, the lamp on the stand. Not by being right and defeating those who are wrong, but by letting God’s love flow through us that strikes away the fear from every soul, that softens every heart and bids every foot and wheel dance and every spirit take flight.
The greatest temptation of this day is the lie that we have an enemy that must be defeated at all costs. That we must raise up an army to march lockstep against the foe. The battle cries are already sounding. You’ve heard them. Lace up your boots! Get in formation!
Yet I am here to tell you, if we answer that call, we will only prolong the war and become the enemy we long to vanquish. For the enemy is not a person or a party. The enemy is power without love and community without joy. The enemy is choosing the lockstep march over the wild and fabulous dance.
There is an urgency to the present moment. Lives are at stake. And those lives will not be saved by us turning on one another, by putting anyone, even those most offensive to us, even those most dangerous to the most vulnerable among us, in the crosshairs. Those lives will only be saved by putting our hearts, our bodies, our lives on the line with and for those who themselves are in the crosshairs of others.
“We are the truth of the world,” Jesus reminds us. And that truth is the greatest power in the universe is love.
Love that softens hearts and makes spirits soar.
Love that refuses to let anyone steal our joy.
Love that takes our pain and anger and through its grace and patience coaxes poetry from our long silent lips and liberates us into life.
Dear Ones, take courage.
Take heart.
Take love.
Take joy.
Take off your combat boots, and put on your dancing shoes.
Embrace the freedom to love without boundaries.
“Shout for all you are worth! Raise your voice like a trumpet!”
Let love open our lips long silent and from them draw songs of courage … and freedom … and joy.
May we become the light of truth, the light of life, the light of love.
For In the flush of love’s light
we dare be brave
And suddenly we see
that love costs all we are
and will ever be.
Yet it is only love
which sets us free.
