Matthew 25:1-13
Okay, so here we go: another sermon in response to the news. Forgive me, but I’m tired of doing that. On the other hand, the scriptures speak directly and with the wisdom we need to make our way through the complicated situations that we live with. So let me say a word about churches and guns.
Guns do not belong in church. There may be a few, rare instances where a qualified professional – by which I really mean a police officer or a Secret Service agent – might need to carry a weapon. Even then, if they are off-duty, their weapons should also be off-duty. I don’t care if you have a concealed-carry license or not, the house of the Prince of Peace is no place for guns or tazers or mace or nunchuks or howitzers. Water balloons are allowable with advance notice and a note from your doctor.
Another thing that does not belong in church is suspicion. Just because somebody is unfamiliar does not mean that they are dangerous. If someone is unfamiliar and also seems troubled, let me know. Believe it or not, when someone is upset or in crisis it is not unusual for them to go someplace where they can feel safe or hope to hear a word of comfort. If a church is not able to provide that, then how can we honestly repeat Jesus’ words,
“Come to me, all you who labor and are heavy burdened, and I will give you rest”? [Matthew 11:28]
The same is true of someone who might be familiar; if you sense that somebody might be troubled, go ahead and ask them if anything is wrong. Only do it out of care, not out of fear, and be ready to listen if it turns out your hunch is right. Be ready to hear what they have to say if they start crying or telling you a story that is difficult to hear.
“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” [Matthew 5:3-4]
Today you might be the one to do the comforting on God’s behalf. If you are uneasy in that role then remember,
“Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.” [Matthew 5:7]
It doesn’t mean you have to be able to solve anybody’s problems, but more often than not, listening with an open heart will do far more than you realize. Then, too, you can always wave someone over to help you so that you don’t have to make your way through whatever is happening without backup.
Don’t be afraid, but be prepared. On a Sunday morning around here there will likely be people in the pews with professional awareness that can help. There are people with medical backgrounds, social workers, school counselors and teachers, even clergy. All of these have some kind of training in a wide variety of ways to offer help or to find it somewhere.
Now, here’s the part where I am going to take away some of the comfort I just offered, although I will give it back to you at the very end. Let’s walk through this together for a few minutes. I’m going to start with the parable that we heard a couple of minutes ago.
In the story, there are ten bridesmaids waiting to greet the groom so that a wedding could get underway. It became late, and he hadn’t shown up yet. When word came that he was getting close, half of them had prepared and were able to add oil to their lamps and the other half were caught without.
The first thing to point out is that all ten knew he would show up sometime. All of us know that there will be a time that we will find ourselves face-to-face with the Lord. It might happen without much warning. (This is where I mean to trouble you.) Shootings and similar incidents we’ve heard about recently have taken place in churches, true. But they’ve also taken place in theaters and in schools and stores, and cars or trucks have been used to mow down bikes and pedestrians. Something like that could happen anytime and anywhere. Sixteen years ago, who on the eighty-second floor of an office building in Manhattan would have thought that a plane might fly in the window? In the Anglican traditions, there is a responsive prayer they call “The Great Litany” that includes some petitions that I used to think sounded overly dramatic, but now I am not so sure.
“From lightning and tempest; from earthquake, fire, and flood; from plague, pestilence, and famine,
Good Lord, deliver us.
From all oppression, conspiracy, and rebellion; from violence, battle, and murder; and from dying suddenly and unprepared,
Good Lord, deliver us.” [from The Book of Common Prayer]
There’s no place and nowhere that something might not go terribly wrong, terribly quickly, even without some horrible person with a gun committing evil acts. No gun of your own is going to provide you with real safety and the sense of security it might give you is a false one.
But here is the oil that you can put into your lamp when it begins to burn low: there is eternal security in Jesus, of a type that nobody can take away. It can give you courage when you are scared of anything, even when the physical threat is real and imminent.
You probably have never heard the name David R. Liebert. Maybe you have heard the name John Africa? He founded the group called MOVE that in 1978 was living in a house in Powelton Village, not far from Drexel University, having been ordered to leave a year earlier for a wide variety of reasons. The city, more especially the Philadelphia Police Department, was anxious for MOVE to vacate the premises. MOVE indicated that they were not interested in moving, that they were armed, and that their departure would not be amicable. David Liebert was the man who got up one morning, had breakfast with his wife, told her he loved her, then went to the station and put on a bulletproof vest because it was his job to knock on the door that day, ask if John Africa was home, and deliver a warrant. Most of us know how that went. Unlike another officer, David Liebert survived that day, but he did die, sixteen years later, of a heart attack. What made it possible for him to do what he did was partly natural courage and a sense of duty, but there was another element, which was faith. He was someone who knew that, living or dying, he was in the Lord’s hands and so he could be ready at any moment.
It’s true that
“You know neither the day nor the hour.” [Matthew 25:13]
But that can be okay. You can go around, if you want to, in fear of the next terrorist or criminal act. You can add to the fear of senseless violence your own threat of retribution, as if that helps the whole atmosphere. You can take part in the cycle of posing as Wyatt Earp or Sergeant York – pick your favorite semi-fictional character. Or you can go around with an inner, calm assurance that there is a far, far better way to live and to face the inevitable moment of dying.
“Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? As it is written,
‘For your sake we are being killed all day long;
we are accounted as sheep to be slaughtered.’
No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, for rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” [Romans 8:35-39]
Put that into your lamp. It gives a bright, bright light.
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