So, I’ve finally gotten around to reading up on all this going on at Cornell. I’ve known about it, sure. And it breaks my heart. But with all that’s going on, I just haven’t had the band width to keep up with the details. I often think that we should assign each person a specific topic of troubles to follow, and then we all get together occasionally and exchange information.
You are in charge of climate change issues. And you, you keep up with the various health care topics. And you over there, you get the constant ICE outrages. And you, well, you get to follow how women are treated in the 21st century.
It would be more efficient, I think, but probably soul-numbing. We’d all end up with what Tom Lea referred to as the 1,000-yard stare, referring to his painting of a shell-shocked marine, just sitting there, staring blankly. Where not even the outrage of a public execution, streamed online, risks breaking through.
And I hope that the woman looking for justice at Cornell doesn’t fall through the cracks because we can’t break out of our numb stare to focus in and see her and what she’s been through. Because, let’s face it, she’s not the only one. Several recent studies have found that at or about 100% of women have experienced some sort of unwanted advance, abuse, or assault in their lives. And that is not going to change if we don’t shift our gaze and acknowledge it.
Paul, in his letter to the Philippians, singles out two women, Euodia and Syntyche, for special praise in the work of spreading the gospel. But even he has to remind his readers that women are worthy of praise and equal to men in all things. Even Paul, earlier in Galatians, has to remind men, “There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is no male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.”
And y’all, the fact that we have to remind ourselves that the fact that we still say, “well, she shouldn’t’ve been drinking or wearing those clothes,” instead of “I shouldn’t’ve been drinking and assuming she wanted it” is proof that we have made very little progress in the way we treat women, or minorities, or marginalized people, or, well, just about anyone who isn’t like those who serve a more golden god.
It’s a warped view of how society should be ordered: brutish, violence on the top, twisting reality around to insist that the tarnished armor our leaders wear is really brilliant, shiny, polished gold. Insisting that our role is to enhance them and serve them, denying ourselves our own dignity to bolster the sagging reputations of those who search only for mirrors willing to tell them who is the fairest one of all.
And today Jesus tells us a strange parable that may shed light on this. A king gives a wedding banquet, but it doesn’t turn out how he expected. All of his so-called friends show their true colors and refuse to attend when it matters, betraying and dishonoring him. And the king, in a gesture of false populism, bribes the people that would never be invited otherwise to attend, offering them a taste of what they are missing. But apparently the price of admittance is too high for some who, being gathered in by force, refuse to participate, refuse to celebrate by putting on the costume of joy, pretending that everything is just fine.
You know, when Jesus begins a parable with, “The kingdom of heaven can be compared to…” instead of “The kingdom of heaven is like…” he’s doing it for a reason. He is NOT painting a picture of what heaven is; he’s painting a picture of what heaven is not. He’s showing us what we think heaven might be, but we get it wrong if we try to build it ourselves. He’s showing us a twisted reading of the gospel message. A view that takes everything Jesus tells us about loving God and loving our neighbor, putting ourselves in the place of God and subjecting our neighbor to unwanted advances, abuses, and assaults. Just like the woman at Cornell. Wearing the wrong thing to the party.
I think Jesus is showing us how the lust for power and riches and kingship can twist even the most joyful things in life because greed and grift and corruption have a tendency to do that, just like with the Israelites in Exodus. Tired of waiting on God to guide them, they decide to do it themselves. “Give us your gold,” their leaders say, “and we will show you your god.”
“Give us your gold,” OUR leaders say, “and WE will show you your god.” And so many gleefully do it, thinking they are actually on the guest list, actually wanted at the table, actually seen as human and not a commodity to be used and then tossed aside.
It’s so very frustrating, and it’s no wonder that so many of us succumb to the 1000-yard stare. But here’s where we get back to Paul. I said last week that the poignancy of the letter to the Philippians is that it is probably Paul’s last letter, written from jail, as he looks back on a life well-lived, but not always successful. His spreading of the gospel was met with problem after problem, but he never gave up. Even sitting here, in Rome, awaiting execution, his focus is up close, not cloudy and far away. He sees clearly, even now he sees Jesus. And he sees the kingdom of God for what it can be…and for what it is.
“Finally, beloved,” he says, “whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.”
Sitting alone in prison, with no gold in his pocket, he sees the true God and not an idol. Sitting alone in prison, with no power to twist and wield, he knows only the power of love. Sitting alone in prison, with no dignity as the world defines it, he feels compassion for those who are so often the victims of unwanted advances, abuses, and assaults.
Even when things are bleakest in his life, Paul finds peace and wants us to find peace, too. A peaceful kingdom of justice and caring, of generosity and sharing, of love and gentleness, of respect and dignity. He has no doubt that he is doing the right thing by Jesus.
Today, as we think of all that’s going on, of all those living in the shadows, of all those on the run or hidden away, sold for the price of a golden calf, remember Paul’s words as he closes out his last letter to a community he loved so deeply: “Keep on doing the things that you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, and the God of peace will be with you.”
Amen.