| June 22, 2008
You are welcome to reflect on this message Providence, Rhode Island – Pentecost – June 22, 2008
The New Testament is mixed when it comes to friends. In John’s Gospel, Jesus called his followers "friends." It was the greatest compliment he could give them. But not Matthew. In the first gospel, the word "friend" is a verbal slap. Jesus' parable of the laborers in the vineyard (Matt. 20:1‑16), is a story about the unfairness of grace. Course if it was fair, it wouldn’t be grace. That’s Jesus’ point. So when the late evening workers are paid the same wages as those who toiled all day, one of them whines about the injustice. And the vineyard owner snorts: "Friend, I did you no wrong.”
Matthew's wedding banquet story (22:1‑14) about a guest who shows up improperly dressed, offended the host who declares: "Friend, how’d you get in here without a tux?" To be called a "friend" in Matthew, is like being called on the carpet. Matthew reeks with sarcasm in his story of Judas. After the Upper Room supper with his buddies, Jesus separated himself from all but 3 in the garden, where he prayed with a heavy heart and bloody tears. And Judas shows up with a mob greeting Jesus with a kiss: "Make it quick, friend!" But neither one meant it. To call Judas a “friend” in Matthew is more like a slap in the face than a kiss on the cheek. Since Jesus chose Judas in the first place, either he made a mistake or there's more to it than meets the eye. With Jesus, it’s always the latter.
Nowadays, anytime you hear “Let’s just be friends,” it’s spin for a slick way to let somebody down. But you haven’t graduated in life till you’ve had your heart broken by a friend. That is your diploma! Here are a few others I’ve heard to soften the blow of rejection: “I think of you as a brother.” (Which means, you remind me of that inbred banjo playin’ Georgia geek in “Deliverance.”) Or this, “My life is too complicated right now.” (Which means, I don’t want you around, or else you might hear those phone calls from all the other guys I’m seeing). And this one: “It’s not you, it’s me.” (Which means, it’s not me it’s you).
But there’s one harder than all of the above. I was 17 and in love. It was good too. We did everything kids did back then. Going steady, swapped yearbooks, exchanged pictures, loaning letter jackets and class rings. Then I “graduated” from High School and went off to college. Well I shouldn’t have done that. I wasn’t gone one semester, till I got one o’ those dear-John-calls from my girl. “Can you come home this week? There’s something I need to talk with you about?” Uh oh! “I’ve met somebody else, so can’t we ... just be friends.” I can’t think of anything a youngster with hormones pumping would want to hear, worse than these five words: “Let’s just be friends.” The polite rejection that makes you feel like a big, neutered, stuffed animal--a real life Barney the dinosaur. Hollow on the inside. And the thing about it is, once somebody says this to you, the “cat’s outa of the bag!” After that, it’s impossible to “just be friends.” Doesn’t matter whether young or old, who needs a “friend” that thinks you aren’t good enough for them anymore? You know, old number two? Romance is a beautiful thing. But there’s another side to it that’ll eat you alive.
Jesus knew what it was like to be betrayed by a friend. Abandoned by God. “Despised and rejected of men” (Is 53:3). Unwanted by church, feared by government. Society didn’t know what to do with somebody that good. “He came unto his own and his own received him not” (Jn. 1:14). “He had no place to lay his head,” died on a cross, suspended between heaven and earth, as if wanted by neither. Ever think of the crucifixion as rejection? In some ways, emotional pain is worse than physical. Some parents watch their kids grow up and fear that empty nest. It’s nature’s way, but not human nature. Birds shove their babies out of the nest! We want to hang on, to their detriment. You can’t protect them. You can birth them, raise them, teach them, influence them. Properly so. But you can’t keep them. Moms especially, seem to view the natural development of family as a rejection.
If it’s your job, whether it’s called “downsizing” or “outsourcing,” bottom line is still: “You’re fired.” The stigma of being a vocational reject. Used to be girls were ostracized for getting pregnant. Boys got away with it, but the girls would mysteriously disappear for awhile and then come back with a kid! Today, up in MA, 17 High School kids were afraid of not getting pregnant! Seems they made a pact, for low self-esteem or whatever excuse. “My Mom will take care of it!” Whew! If you can figure that one out, I’d like to hear it. And then come the other shockers like Tim Russert, are looming out there: untimely death--that of our own or of a loved one. I’m not sure which is worse, but it sure feels like rejection.
At the root of all this is the fear of loss, losing face. Coming in second. Just being “friends” when you want a lover! With our head, we know it’s part of growing up, learning to be more secure in ourselves, rather than what others think of us. I can tell you there is life beyond romantic rejection. And in the larger scheme of things, there are far more important issues. But don’t try to tell that to a bleeding 17 year old!
Getting burned we call it. Getting burned, drives us to cling to what we know we’ll eventually lose. Getting burned keeps us from saying what must be said. Getting burned prevents us from doing what must be done to get over it. Rejection keeps the races and genders apart, the generations apart. And then there’s “regional rejection,” often overlooked but never out of sight. Especially up here where the minute some people hear a “southern accent” they automatically lower your I.Q. 2 points! I’m talking about rejection. The hardest blow of all.
In sports they call it, Getting cut. And it can turn a 300# professional football player into a blob of tears. People will refuse to play the game, quit dating, isolate themselves, stay at home on Sunday, because the fear of rejection paralyzes us. There’s not much we won’t do to prevent it. Or put up with awful situations to avoid it and react strongly when we experience it. “The devil you know” is better than the devil you don’t know. People feel assaulted by rejection and you can’t hide the hurt inside.
The Christian faith affirms our need to be in relationship with others. The writer of Genesis said, “It’s not good for us to be alone.” So God and man are disclosed always in relationship. It’s how we know who we are ... in our various relationships. I couldn’t be a pastor if I didn’t have a church. Or a husband if I didn’t have a wife. Or a father if I didn’t have two daughters. So when we get rejected in a relationship, it’s an attack on our identity. Our estrangement from God and each other is the clearest indication of our fallenness.
Rejection on every hand and here comes the church proclaiming the grace of God. So just in case anybody’s here today feeling left out, let the words of our text strike a chord in your heart: “You did not choose me, but I chose you,” Jesus said. Think of it! To be chosen, selected, included, to hear another say, “I take you...till death do us part...” Man! That kind of acceptance. The universal, all-inclusive love of God. The only exclusion being self-exclusion. You can bet every homosexual perks up at that. Every divorcee, every adopted kid, every laid off worker, every person with dark skin, every illegal immigrant, every woman facing a glass ceiling. Anybody who’s done something they wish they hadn’t done and can’t be undone. Jesus chooses us!
Anybody lucky enough to never experience rejection, or has always had life go their way … maybe they can do just fine without the church. Like they say, “That river in Egypt is mighty big!” (De-Nial). The Church’s greatest gift is acceptance, offering community to all, to the exclusion of none, where each receives the other as all are received by God. The climate of the church is controlled by the love of God.
When we were High School seniors, at lunch time we’d rebel from eating in the cafeteria and go over to the little store across the street. There we’d gather to do various and sundry things to entertain ourselves, like playing “hot hands,” while munching on a Twinkie! I was fascinated with this country kid who could put out a match with his fingers! He’d strike the match, gaze at the flame, and then extinguish it with his finger and thumb. I couldn’t stand it, so one day I tried my hand, and lost! All it did was singe a blister on my fingers. “Ouch! That hurt. What’s the trick?” And he said something I never forgot. “The trick is not caring that it hurts!” And ever since, that’s been for me the challenge of living in the present ... to be bigger than the hurts of the past. I offer it to you.
And I close with surprisingly, the very same words with which I began, those “dreaded words” no 17 year old wants to hear from his best girl. Same words. But in this Meeting House, they mean something totally different. From the Gospel of John, chapter 15, verse 15:
Pastoral Prayer (6/22/08)
For this old city of Providence, rich in buildings but poor in soul we pray. High in crime, low in morale; playground for some, nightmare for others. May our lighthouse of faith, here on this hill that cannot be hid, keep shining Thy mercy and acceptance and continue to raise a contagious witness to the truth that sets us free.
We pray for ourselves, bearing the marks of a culture that’s too much with us, as we keep flirting with the gods of our own making. May this worship enable us to better live above the need for praise or the fear of criticism. Tune our responses to the needs around us, that we may reflect Thy hopeful Spirit, not the shallow apparitions of this age. Free us from the need to justify ourselves, that others will be at ease in our presence, and our own hearts at peace. All of which we pray in faith, with thanksgiving, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. |
