Proper 14, Year C
Isaiah 1:1, 10-20 | Hebrews 11:1-3, 8-16 | Luke 12:32-40
Episcopal Church of the Holy Cross
August 11, 2019
Jonathan Hanneman
“Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom.” – Luke 12:32
Isaiah has always been one of my favorite books of the Bible. It has everything—mystery, intrigue, betrayal, supernatural events and foresight, condemnation, reconciliation, warfare, promises of deliverance—all packed into 66 chapters, most of which are some of the world’s greatest classical poetry. Isaiah releases the romantic I keep buried deep inside me. The writing sets my imagination free. When I was in college, I volunteered at an early morning church service at the local rescue mission each Saturday. I was mostly there to provide music and support, but about once a year, the group leader had me preach. We didn’t use a lectionary in our tradition, and without that restriction, all my sermons ended up coming from Isaiah.
You can imagine my excitement when I found out we’d be reading from my dream prophet this week and next.
Sadly, our passage leads us not into a dreamy future but a nightmarish past. Anytime someone addresses you as the rulers and people of Sodom and Gomorrah, you can expect trouble. For those of you unfamiliar with that story,[1] Sodom and Gomorrah were neighboring city-states in ancient Palestine. Due to the wickedness of the people, God utterly wiped out the cities and the surrounding area by raining fire and brimstone on them, rescuing only Abraham’s nephew Lot and his immediate family from the destruction.
Since the late Middle Ages, Western culture has a tradition of associating the cities and their names with either gay sex or acts of sexual violence, both of which appear to be conflated in the original tale. However, the best way to interpret the Bible is through what the Bible says about itself, and the Hebrew Prophets have a very different view of the evils of the two cities. Going in reverse chronological order, Ezekiel gives the plainest statement: “This was the guilt of your sister Sodom: she and her daughters had pride, excess of food, and prosperous ease, but did not aid the poor and needy.”[2] Jeremiah’s association does include sexual activity, as does the much later and generally overlooked New Testament letter from Jude,[3] but not the kind our culture associates with related terminology. Jeremiah’s complaint is that even the prophets of Jerusalem “commit adultery and walk in lies; they strengthen the hands of evildoers, so that no one turns from wickedness.”[4] The third defining reference comes from our passage today, where Isaiah connects Sodom and Gomorrah with appearing righteous—properly fulfilling the actions of worshipping God—while “your hands are full of blood,” a metaphor best described by its cure: “cease to do evil, learn to do good; seek justice, rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, [and] plead for the widow.”
So while the Hebrew Bible summary of the wickedness of Sodom and Gomorrah does include some measure of sexual misconduct (adultery, to be specific), it lays more intense weight on issues of justice and equality.
Moving to the present, problems of justice and equality are important discussions in our era as well. Recently, both inside and outside the Church, we’ve received a harsh—and much needed—awakening call from the #MeToo movement. Currently, we see an emboldened rise in behaviors and rhetoric of white supremacy on the national stage. We read of militarized police forces targeting people of color and the subsequent mistreatment and abuse of those same people. Our legislatures pass laws providing more protections for objects designed specifically to cause mass casualties and death while ignoring the blood of the hundreds of people frequently murdered by others using those same weapons. We live in a time of homegrown terror, and few leaders appear willing to look for real solutions, much less attempt effective action. I can only imagine what God might say to our country if Isaiah were still alive. When there’s so much to worry us on a daily basis, when we see the real sins of Sodom and Gomorrah consuming our own land, it’s hard to hear Jesus’ cry, “Do not be afraid, little flock.”
The national situation is troubling at best, but here in the Pacific Northwest we’re at least trying to resolve some of these problems. It’s one thing I’ve loved about this region since I first moved here in 2003. We see our issues of homelessness, food insecurity, and excessive resource inequality. We recognize how systemic racism has corrupted our culture. People and organizations throughout the region are working to provide adequate housing and medical care for those in need. Our laws protecting people from discrimination are strong, and our companies and government agencies are actively attempting to diversify their workforces. We even choose to add to our own tax burdens to provide improved opportunities for others. We certainly aren’t perfect, and progress moves far more slowly than I would like. But we are at least trying.
I’ve been at Holy Cross fewer than two months, and from what I’ve seen, we as a church are making a solid effort, too. People here are generous in their giving. We supplied food, workers, and teachers for a camp supporting children largely from families of migrant workers. The Food Bank Farm has quite literally been providing tons upon tons of fresh produce to needy people in our region for years, all while providing advantaged people a very physical opportunity to demonstrate solidarity with our less wealthy neighbors. Our congregation genuinely wants to be welcoming to all people. I’m sure there are more great things we’re doing that I haven’t even discovered yet. Our faith, imperfect though it may be, is reflected not only in our weekly worship but in our daily deeds, just as the prophet Isaiah demands of those who would love God. We really do appear to be investing in a better future, looking “forward to the city that has foundations, whose architect and builder is God,” like our Hebrews reading says.
But I wonder, can we do more? Are there additional ways we can partner with those in need, to “rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, [and] plead for the widow”? What other ways can we demonstrate the love of Christ in our community? I really am asking, not judging. Coming from the other side of Lake Washington, I honestly don’t yet know many of the needs, challenges, and opportunities the Eastside faces. Twenty miles can make a world of difference, and I don’t want to presume that the issues here are identical to the ones where I live in Seattle proper. What more may God be calling us to do beyond the walls of the church?
After Jesus said, “Do not be afraid, little flock,” he continues by telling us “it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom.” That may not sound like much, but it’s a strong promise for troubling times. It means God actually enjoys and empowers the work of building a glimpse of heaven through our hands. We aren’t alone as we work to turn the invisible faith that guides our lives into concrete action that builds up our neighbors. Our congregation has already begun “mak[ing] purses for yourselves that do not wear out, an unfailing treasure in heaven, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys.” And God wants to give us the strength to do even more. The challenges in front of us may be great, but the calling of God is backed by a greater power—one that wants us to succeed.
“Do not be afraid, little flock!”
[1] Genesis 18:16-19:29
[2] Ezekiel 16:49
[3] Jude 7
[4] Jeremiah 23:14b