Erasing the Lines

The Sermon Study Guide is here.

Genesis 1:26-27; Luke 9:46-50

March 16, 2014 • Portage First UMC

It was supposed to be a nice afternoon outing to a movie, but things never quite go the way they are planned when you are the parent of an autistic son. Still, Emily Colson had taken 23-year-old Max to a movie before, and he had done quite well after he got adjusted. Into the packed theater they stepped, hopeful that it would be an enjoyable time. However, when the first preview came on, it was thunderously loud, and Max was surprised. “I want to go home!” he cried out. Emily assured him their movie would start soon, and then came the next preview featuring Kermit the Frog, one of Max’s favorites, which helped him settle down. That is, until the feature film came on, which once again startled him. “I want to go home!” he cried out again. And that was when the real drama began.

An older woman seated near them yelled at Emily, “Are you going to make him be quiet?” Emily started to explain to the woman that Max was autistic, and the woman interrupted her. “I know he is,” she said, “but why should the rest of us have to suffer?” Her husband chimed in, “If you don’t make him be quiet, I’m going to call the manager.” Emily found it difficult to breathe, but she decided it wasn’t worth fighting for their right to be there at that moment. She got up to leave with Max, and that’s when the applause began. It came from every patron in the theater, applauding their departure. As they made their way down the steps, one man angrily called out, “And don’t come back!” By this point, Emily had nearly lost it. Between the applause and the comments, she was astonished that people would still be treated this way, but the worst was still yet to come. As they walked in front of the seats, one man’s voice rose above all the others as he shouted two horrible words: “He’s retarded!” That made Emily stop, and turn ever so slowly toward the audience. Gathering her composure, she said, “There is a lesson here. A lesson that is so much more important than anything you will learn from this movie.” And, as they once again began to exit, the same voice from a moment ago called out, “Merry Christmas!” (Colson, “Darkness in a Theater,” http://specialneedsparenting.net/darkness-theater/).

Unfortunately, that is a true story, one that happened just last Christmas, 2013, in this age of tolerance for all. We think we have come so far. I wish it were an isolated incident, but despite our calls for understanding and tolerance and love and respect, our culture still gets it wrong far too often. The question that nags me as I read that story is this: how many of those people in those chairs claimed to be followers of Jesus? And the even deeper question that haunts me is: what would I have done had I been in that theater? I’d like to think I would have stuck up for Max and his mother, but when I’m honest, when any of us are honest, we have to admit it’s hard to take on the crowd. Yet that’s exactly what we’re called to do, to live a life that is different from the crowd, a life that is shaped by the way Jesus, the rabbi from Nazareth, treated people.

In the world Jesus lived in, there were lots of folks who were left out. There were very definite “classes” of people, the “haves” and the “have nots.” Generally, the “haves” lived in Jerusalem. They were the rich, the powerful, the religiously influential. The “have nots” lived in Galilee and other places. They were the poor, often the “working poor,” the ones who scraped by from day to day. People like Peter and James and John who fished for their daily bread. People like Jesus’ earthly father Joseph, who went from job to job. And they were the sick, because the religious leaders (Pharisees in particular) considered any defect or handicap to be a curse. They believed nothing malformed could reflect the perfect holiness of God. So lepers had to live outside the city, and so-called “defective” human beings weren’t allowed in the Temple courts (Ortberg, Who Is This Man?, pg. 37). There was an assumed ranking of the value of a human being, and the higher up in value you were, the more acceptable to God you were, or so it was believed.

The Romans, rulers of the land, had similar practices, only in their thinking, men were much more valuable than women from the get-go. All healthy male children were required to be raised, but only the firstborn female had to be raised. Any other girls that were born were considered disposable. According to the records, in one city where six hundred families lived, only six of them raised more than one daughter. Girls were devalued (Ortberg 47). And fathers had complete control, the power of life and death over a child. When a child was born, it was placed at the father's feet. If he picked it up, it would live. If he walked away, the child would be left out to die. Now, we like to think we’re far beyond that, but there is a growing concern, particularly in Asian countries, over what is being called “gender imbalance.” In certain places, it’s still true that boys are considered more valuable than girls. When it is learned that a child is a girl, she is more likely to be unwanted and aborted than a boy. According to some reports, there are 163 million more men than women in Asia today and it doesn’t take much to figure out why that’s a problem. It’s caused the sex trafficking business in that part of the world to boom, as men seek out a spouse or at least seek out sex. It’s also meant that some girls as young as twelve years old are married off to wealthy men (Ortberg 47-48).

When we place a higher value on certain people, when we label others as unwanted, imperfect, nobodies—we enter a different world than the one Jesus envisioned. Jesus valued all people. He ate with “sinners.” He touched unclean lepers. He spoke with women out in the open. He invited a tax collector—a collaborator with the Roman Empire, a traitor to his own people—to be one of his followers. And he also invited the first-century equivalent of a patriot and a terrorist. Imagine the conversations they had with each other! One of the objections to the “Son of God” film has to do with the portrayal of Mary Magdalene traveling with the disciples and Jesus, and yet Luke says that’s exactly what happened. Luke says Jesus went from town to town with the twelve, and “also some women.” Mary Magdalene is specifically mentioned, as are others who helped underwrite Jesus’ ministry financially (cf. Luke 8:1-3). Jesus would talk to Greeks and Romans and Jews and Herodians and Pharisees and Sadducees and rich and poor and women and men and anyone who wanted to know more about the kingdom of God. So you’ve got to ask, “Who is this man who welcomes everyone?”

Jesus’ expansive inclusivity makes it even more astonishing to me to find his disciples, his twelve closest followers, arguing repeatedly about which one of them was the greatest. This argument must have happened more than once; John tells us they were even arguing about this on the last night they shared dinner with Jesus, just before his arrest and crucifixion. Now, as Luke tells it here, they’re not arguing about their current state. He says they were arguing about who “would be” the greatest. It’s as if they know they have no status, no rank here right now; most of them are from Galilee and have been told throughout their lives they don’t matter. No, what they seem to be concerned about is when Jesus establishes his kingdom, who will be first in line? They never wonder if there will actually be rank and position in Jesus’ kingdom. They just want to make sure that when it’s set up, they get to enjoy having privilege that they’ve missed out on all their lives (cf. Liefeld, “Luke,” Expositor’s Bible Commentary, Vol. 8, pg. 931). The other thing that’s fascinating to me about this ongoing argument is that, every time it happens, they never ask Jesus about it. They’re always arguing it out among themselves. There’s only one time, when James and John comes to Jesus and directly ask to be first and second in the kingdom (Mark 10:35-40), but even then, it may not have been them who asked. When Matthew tells us about it, he says it’s their mom who is trying to get rank and privilege for her sons (cf. Matthew 20:20-23). Usually when they argue, though, they’re trying to figure it out for Jesus.

And so, Luke says, Jesus, “knowing their thoughts,” calls a child to stand beside him (9:47). A child, in that world, had absolutely no status. Children were not treasured or valued like today. Children were sometimes a nuisance and sometimes just a necessity. They had no place in society, and so Jesus has this child stand beside him and he says, “It is the one who is least among you who is the greatest” (9:48). You want argue about rank and status and privilege? You want to know who is the greatest? Become like this child, Jesus says. Become like someone who has absolutely no status, rank or privilege. That person is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.

Now, I would have thought that vivid lesson would be enough to shut them up. And yet, in the very next verse, we find John doing an outrageous thing. He speaks up and tells Jesus that they saw someone driving out demons in his name, but because that other person was not part of their group, was not a card-carrying official disciple, they told him to stop. That’s an outrageous thing for John to say on a couple of levels. One, he’s completely missed the point Jesus just made about status and rank and privilege. The child is probably still standing there by Jesus and John is on to other things, “more important things” in his mind. But it’s also outrageous because if you back up in chapter 9 of Luke’s Gospel, you’ll find a couple of tidbits that shed light on John’s actions. First of all, in verse 1, Jesus sends the twelve out into the surrounding area and one of their specific missions is to “drive out demons” (9:1). Skim down a little more and you come to the story of the Transfiguration, which Pastor Deb preached on just a couple of weeks ago. And right after they have seen Jesus in his glory, Jesus with the awesome radiance of God leaking out, they come down the mountain and find a desperate father who has a demon-possessed boy, and he’s been asking the disciples to cure the boy, to drive out the demon. Now, remember, this is one of their jobs. Jesus sent them to do this. And yet, here at the foot of the mountain, they can’t. So Jesus, with what I imagine is more than a little frustration, says, “You unbelieving and perverse generation, how long shall I stay with you and put up with you?” (9:41). Now, back to John’s report to Jesus. He’s tattling on someone who is able to do what he couldn’t, what his lack of belief prevented him from doing. This isn’t a matter of orthodoxy, of right belief. Jesus insists that if the man isn’t working against them, he’s working for them. John is upset about having his rank and privilege and status threatened. He is, after all, an authentic disciple of Jesus. This other person is a poser, and has no business invading their territory. But Jesus says, in essence, they’re doing my work better than you are. Stop worrying about rank and status. Start focusing on the needs and the people around you (cf. Liefeld 931; Card, Luke: The Gospel of Amazement, pgs. 127-128).

You see, Jesus is operating out of a worldview that says from the very beginning, men and women were created equal, in God’s image. Where does he get such radical ideas? From creation. Genesis 1 tells us that the crowning achievement of creation was one creature made in God’s image. Nothing else in all of creation is said to have the image of God in it. Not the skies, not the land, not the animals, not the sun or the moon. Only humanity is said to be made in God’s image. Now, that doesn’t mean we look like God. It’s not a physical image Genesis is talking about. Rather, it means we alone were given the ability to choose good and evil, to make moral decisions, to be able to re-present God in this world. And more than that, Genesis poetically says even more: “So God created mankind in his own image; in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them” (1:27). All are made in God’s image, which means in turn that all are valuable, all are welcomed, and all are loved. When John says God so loved the world that he gave his son to bring the world eternal life (John 3:16), he doesn't say God loved part of the world, or God some of the world more than others. He says God loved the world—if you’re in the world, you’re loved by God. You have the image of God in you, and you are valued. You’re worth something. You have immeasurable value, no matter what anyone else tells you. You bear God’s image to the world. That’s the worldview Jesus is working from. Even the leper and the outcast and the Roman and the Pharisee and the enemy—all of them bear God’s image. And so those who follow Jesus have no right to turn anyone away. That’s why he says, in those closing chapters of Matthew’s Gospel, that those who care for and share with the least of these are actually caring for and sharing with him (cf. Matthew 25:31-46). Who is this man?

He is a man who upended society’s understanding of and valuing of humanity. He welcomed the sick and the lame. He increased the value of women in his day. And his followers are called to do the same. We’re called to be willing to associate with those who have no worldly status, to stop seeking status of our own and welcome all who will come to join us in this revolutionary kingdom (cf. Liefeld 931). Jesus calls us to erase the lines that divide us from each other—the lines of status, rank or privilege. Lines between us and other members of the human family have no place in a Christian’s life. So how have we done through the centuries? Early on, when the Roman Empire was wracked by plagues (probably smallpox), the church had a choice. Would they flee or would they follow? In many of those cities, the plague would affect 30-40% of the population. With overcrowding, sewage in the streets and no soap, those cities were a breeding ground for disease. And so when the plagues began, the wealthy and important people fled to the country. It didn’t matter to them what happened to those who were ill. Even those who couldn’t leave turned out their sick family members, and many of those gathered at the city fountain, the last place they could go to get water. Christians, rather than running away, chose to stay in the cities, to tend those who were sick without regard to their own welfare. An early church historian, Eusebius, wrote, “All day long some of [the Christians] tended to the dying and to their burial, countless numbers with no one to care for them.” Why did they do such a thing? Because they believed that those people were made in God’s image (Colson, The Faith, pgs. 15-18). Later on, in the midst of hammering out important doctrinal issues, firming up what the church believed, the church leadership declared that whenever a cathedral was built, a hospital must also be built. The early church was concerned about a person’s soul and their body because the people were made in the image of God, no matter what their social standing (Ortberg 40). Hospitals today still have names like “St. Anthony” and “St. Mary” and “Christ Advocate” because they began as places of healing in Jesus’ name, a place where the lines would be erased and everyone would be cared for.

We’ve already mentioned how Jesus valued women. In a culture where women were basically property and where her highest calling was to bear children, Jesus turned everything upside down. He welcomed Mary to sit at his feet and learn (Luke 10:38-42). He made a woman the first missionary to the Samaritans (John 4). And women were the first witnesses to the resurrection. For Jesus, the highest calling of men and women—all those made in God’s image—was to know and do the will of God (cf. Ortberg 52-53). Now, it’s possible—probable, actually—that the church has yet to catch up with Jesus. The church has often been a source of oppression for women, taking far too literally and out of context Paul’s words about women and ignoring the way Jesus treated them. I’m thankful to be part of a church that recognizes what women have to bring to all sort of ministry, and I’m blessed to serve alongside a great pastor who happens to be a woman. We have, in this church, women in all sorts of leadership positions, and they’re not there because they’re women. They’re there for the same reason men are: because they are made in the image of God and they have gifts to share. Paul put it this way: “In Christ Jesus you are all children of God through faith…There is neither Jew nor Greek, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus” (Galatians 3:26, 28). Jesus turned the world upside down for men and women alike.

But, as I said, we haven’t always followed well in his footsteps. For how long did the church believe that certain races were inferior to others, forgetting again that all of humanity—the human race—is made in the image of God? One of the ugliest parts of our denomination’s history is when the church split over slavery, along north and south lines. If you travel in the southern part of our country, you’ll find many churches that were once “Methodist Episcopal South” churches. While these churches were helping propagate and prop up the institution of slavery, the northern churches were very involved in the Underground Railroad and helping slaves escape. Even though the Civil War ended in 1865, north and south churches didn’t come back together until 1939—74 years after the end of the war. (Interestingly for us, the conference at which they united again was held at First Church in Marion, Indiana.) We are still very much a divided church over racial issues, and I believe that still pains the heart of God and has us at cross purposes to Jesus, who declared all as children of God. More recently, the larger church has struggled with how to respond to issues like AIDS and immigration and health care and how we make room for those with special needs and how we care for homosexual persons. Not just our denomination, but the church in general. If we think we can label someone, put them into a category, then we treat them as perhaps less than human, less than the child of God they are. We can draw lines and remain comfortably within our bubble.

But Jesus, this man from Nazareth, calls us beyond our bubble, beyond our safety zone, to relate to, to love, to rub up against those we think are less than deserving. It’s not about being the greatest. It’s about reflecting the image of God and erasing the lines that we draw. The world still has trouble figuring out why a young woman would not only give herself to religious service but give up a comfortable position to travel to a poverty-stricken land. And yet that is just what Agnes Bernai did. We know her better as Mother Teresa, and while she was on a retreat she heard a clear call to move to India to serve the least, the last and the lost. Out of love for God, she did so, and in the first year, there were times when she had to beg for food and money to sustain herself and her work. She herself learned what it was like to be among the poorest of the poor. In those moments, she said, she was tempted to give up the call and return to the comfortable life of the abbey, but she could not deny God’s call on her life to take care of, in her words, “the hungry, the naked, the homeless, the crippled, the blind, the lepers, all those people who feel unwanted, unloved, uncared for throughout society, people that have become a burden to the society and are shunned by everyone.” Eventually, she went on to found a house for the dying, because she believed everyone deserved to die with dignity. “A beautiful death,” she said, “is for people who lived like animals to die like angels—loved and wanted.” She did these things not for her own glory or recognition, but because she wanted to be a faithful follower of Jesus. When asked to describe her calling, Mother Teresa put it this way: “I see Jesus in every human being. I say to myself, this is hungry Jesus, I must feed him. This is sick Jesus. This one has leprosy or gangrene: I must wash him and tend to him. I serve because I love Jesus.” She chose to serve because she loved this man from Nazareth who erased the lines and called all people children of God.

This week, there was a great story in the news about erasing the lines and valuing all as children of God. I’m just going to let you see the story, and I’ve got to tell you that if it doesn’t make you smile, you might want to check and see if your heart is still beating.

VIDEO: “Harlem Globetrotters and KG3”

That may be the best thing you see all day, and it reminds me once again that the other person is a child of God, loved by God and welcomed by God, no matter what we think of them or how we judge them. God has a place and a mission for each and every person. That’s the revolution Jesus brought to humanity. That’s the revolution his followers are called to live out.

There’s one other area Jesus challenged us on, and even prayed for us in, and that’s the way we treat our brothers and sisters in Christ, our fellow believers. On the last night of his life here on earth, Jesus took a long walk with his followers, from the Upper Room, all the way along the Kidron Valley, to the Garden of Gethsemane where he would be arrested. Heavy things were on his mind during that walk, and John, the last living disciple, tells us more about the conversation during that walk than any other Gospel writer. Three chapters of his Gospel are devoted to that walk, and one of those three is entirely devoted to Jesus’ prayer for himself, his disciples, and those who would come after them. For us, for those who would come to believe in Jesus because of the message handed down to us, Jesus prayed this: “I pray…that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you…so that the world may believe that you have sent me” (John 17:20-21). I can’t help but think that one of the reasons the world still has not been won for Jesus is because his followers can’t get along. We argue and fight and disagree over the smallest things, and we discount our brothers and sisters in Christ by calling then “unChristian” and worse. Is it possible that we don’t have a corner on the whole truth? I believe one reason eternity will be so long is because God will have to straighten all of us out to some degree! Are we not able to put aside our differences, as important as we may think they are, and work together for the sake of Jesus Christ and his kingdom? That’s the revolution he prayed for, that he would be the one who brings us together. Instead, because we’re so overly concerned about being “right,” we allow Jesus to push us apart.

In the community we served in during seminary, the churches there—at least some of them—had a great tradition during Holy Week of putting on a Maundy Thursday play. For several years, we did a series of monologues featuring the twelve disciples. I was always cast as James, because he was the youngest and I was by far the youngest among the men who did the play. And after the monologues, the pastors would serve communion to that gathering. It was a beautiful display of unity, that around the table of Christ, we could gather as one body, no matter what the name was on the outside of our buildings. I’ve seen that happen one other time, in a community service when the pastors agreed to serve communion together, despite our theological differences. Jesus prayed that, on that last night, we would put aside our differences and be one. We would erase the lines long enough to notice our unity in him. And we can point our fingers at the institutional church, but folks, the problem starts with you and me. If we begin listening to this Jesus, this revolutionary, and we start erasing the lines, pretty soon the church will follow—and then, the world.

So what line will you erase this week? If we are going to follow this teacher from Nazareth faithfully, it’s important we include in our lives people who are different from us, people who are perhaps from another ethnic group, people who are from a different social status than we are. It’s only when we do that, when we take Jesus seriously that our status, rank and privilege no longer matter, that the world will sit up and take notice: “Hey, there’s something different about those Christians.” It might even cause them to take another look at Jesus and ask, “Who is this man, who even erases the lines we draw?” What line will you erase this week?

Today, as you leave, to help you remember your calling, we’re got a card to give you with the Mother Teresa quote on it. It’s wallet-sized, and I want to encourage you to put it next to the credit or debit card you use most frequently, or put it in with your cash, so that every time you go to pay for something, you’ll be reminded that the person you’re handing your payment to is a child of God. The person behind you in line is a child of God. The people you’re going home to, the people you live next to, the people who pass you on the street—all are children of God. Use this card to remind you to erase the lines and live the way this teacher called us to. Let’s pray.