Those We Meet in Unexpected Places: Challenging Relationships    

Carolyn L Roberts
Genesis 15.1-12, 17-18
Psalm 27
Luke 13.31-35

            In 1836, Congregational and Presbyterian missionaries to the Pacific Northwest evangelized among the native peoples. This is a time of great religious fervor and missionary zeal. These mission personnel are sent on behalf of the American Board of Commissioners of Foreign Missions...the board we know today as Wider Church Ministries of the United Church of Christ.

            Two couples, the Whitmans, and the Spaldings, eventually settle at two separate sites. The Whitmans settle among the Cayuse, in what is now south-central Washington, while the Spaldings settle among Chief Joseph’s Nez Perce in eastern Washington. The Whitman mission in particular is a doorstep on the Oregon Trail...a trail which becomes a freeway for European immigrants, who arrive in increasing numbers. From the native perspective, these immigrants soon are overrunning the land.

            And there’s another player in this scene: Catholic missionaries, whose approach to native peoples, to salvation, and baptism, and a host of other churchly niceties differs considerably from the approach of our puritanical forebears. Catholic/Protestant tensions rise along with native animosity toward the unwelcome immigrants. The tensions boil over in the brutal massacre of fourteen at the Whitman mission. The Whitmans are among the dead.

            Meanwhile, Spalding is on the trail home, when he crosses paths with one of his Catholic rivals. Rather than send him toward certain death, the Catholic missionary warns Spalding of the death and destruction that lies ahead at the mission. Consequently, Spalding’s life is saved, and he continues his mission work in the area for another 50 years.[1] I attended a church camp named at the camp near Spokane named in Spalding’s honor. Today, Whitman College, Whitworth University and Gonzaga University bear witness to those Congregational, Presbyterian and Catholic efforts.

            The Pharisees–not always a group treated sympathetically in the gospels–warn Jesus that Herod is out to kill him. This isn’t exactly living out the proverb“an enemy of my enemy is my friend,” because Jesus and the Pharisees are not enemies, even if the gospels don’t give them good press. Like Jesus, the Pharisees are lay people, not priests. They teach in the synagogues. They believe that righteousness comes from observing written and oral law. Of all the groups within Judaism at the time, the Pharisees and Jesus seem to have the most in common. And it is the Pharisees who warn Jesus that Herod is plotting to kill him.

            Not that Jesus is unaware of Herod’s ability to infiltrate gatherings outside of Jerusalem. Herod may be a Jew, but he rules Israel only at the tolerance of Rome. Any disturbance in Jerusalem or the provinces can bring down Rome’s heavy hand. There is no question that Jesus–like John the Baptizer before him–is causing disturbances, and neither Herod nor Rome are known for their tolerance. In the midst of this charged atmosphere, the Pharisees warn Jesus that his life is in danger. And Jesus makes a choice. He doesn’t run and hide from Herod; neither does he run from himself. He stands his ground: Go tell that fox...I am casting out demons. I’m curing the sick. I’m doing this today and tomorrow and the third day. I’m going to keep on keeping on. I’m going to live out my calling. I’m going to finish what I’ve started.[2]

            So as my friend Bev says, here’s the lesson in the story. There are multiple elements to being courageous: show up, listen, tell the truth from your heart, and then let go of the outcome. Wherever Jesus is, he shows up with everything he has and with everything he is. He hears the threats, he feels the fear. But he doesn’t lose his focus and he doesn’t sacrifice his truth. Even with the Pharisees’ warning ringing in his ears, he lets go of the outcome. He stands there and continues to define himself in his experience of God’s power.[2]

            One of the scenes of that Oscar-winning Ben Kingsley movie,  Gandhi, takes place as India is moving toward division into India and Pakistan, and Muslims and Hindus are murdering each other. The region is on the brink of total chaos; Gandhi is seriously weakened from a fast he undertakes to try using his personal influence to restore peace and a sense of common purpose. A distraught Hindu, inspired by Gandhi, manages to gain an audience with him. The Hindu confesses that he cannot sleep at night; he has murdered a Muslim, which has orphaned the Muslim’s young son. Gandhi tells the Hindu that for peace to return to the man, the Hindu must raise the orphaned boy as his own—and do so by raising him as a Muslim. We don’t know what happened to that Hindu man. If he followed Gandhi’s advice, he may well have been killed for his efforts. But Gandhi challenges the Hindu man to live out the vision of an India independent from colonial rule, and to do so non-violently. 

            Two years ago this May, California became the second state in the union to sanction gay marriage. But just 18 months later, the voter initiative Proposition 8 overturned same-sex marriage, and ordered the state’s constitution amended to define marriage as the union between one man and one woman. The state’s Supreme Court upheld the amendment’s constitutionality. In the wake of that decision,  former Bush Solicitor General Ted Olson and liberal attorney David Boies filed a legal challenge in federal court on behalf of two same-sex couples. These two unlikely allies are uniting to support marriage equality as a constitutional right because they share a common “respect for civil rights.”[3] Says Olson,  “If the American people would just listen to what the plaintiffs and the other experts said in this case, they will understand so much more the damage that’s done to people.... Your relationship doesn’t count, and you don’t count – you know, that is demeaning.”[3]

            Jesus didn’t let a two-bit player like Herod keep him from living out his ministry of healing and compassion. He didn’t let that fox keep him from reaching out to the sick, the discarded, the poor, the weary, the fearful. Instead, he opened himself to the strength of the Spirit and took courage from God’s unwavering presence.[2]

            We know that the face of the discarded and the fearful may bear the label of immigration or marriage equality or health care for those who have none. We know that the Herods are all too quick to accommodate the greater powers; we know that the struggle is not easy. But we also know that we are called to live with courage in the struggle for justice and peace. May we continue to share the vision of the One whom we follow, the One who goes before us and sustains us.

***

[1] Information from the research of John R. Deckenback from archives at Whitworth University, and Spokane’s Museum of Arts and Culture (MAC).
[2] Lewis, Bev, 2LentC10 Luke 13.31-35.
[3]Winship, Michael, truthout/Op-Ed, “Two Legal Foes Unite to Fight for Same-Sex Marriage, Saturday 27 February 2010.