Sermons

"Shame for the Ages"

Delivered from the Pulpit of First Congregational Church by The Reverend Mark E. Long on March 29, 2009

Lections:  Deut. 10.12-19; 16.19

                  Gal. 3.23-29

                  Lk. 10.25-37

Jane Austen wrote Pride and Prejudice[1].  It is the tale of a family of sisters but one in particular, Elizabeth, who tends to make quick judgments about people on not the best of evidence.  The title of the book, as it ends up, shares not only alliteration with the first book of Austen, Sense and Sensibility[2], but a similar curious pairing of traits.

Austen is much more transparent about what she is up to with the title of her first book - the story of two sisters of proper English society who seek mates under the burden of reduced financial circumstances.  One sister is, at the surface, guarded and proper as society requires and the other displays emotion on the level just below what a society girl is allowed in the 19^th century.  By the end, we find the two sisters are not so different after all - both reveal sense and sensibility.  What begins as sisters dissimilar in mood and affect concludes with each finding fulfillment by going the "middle way" between the extremes.

Does Austen intend to say something in the title Pride and Prejudice?  One critic warns not to make too much of it; he suggests the two traits are but the alliterative coupling of an eye turned toward book sales.  But still I wonder has Austen a deeper message - one which I share?  Does Austen hint that there is an underlying and disturbing relationship between 'pride' and 'prejudice'?

Pride, for Austen, is a personal expression of the "decorum" of 19^th century upper crust society.  Elizabeth's pride or moral rigidity leads her to quick judgments from not the best of evidence which brings trouble to her life.  It is no different for those, I think, outside of the 19^th century as well.

As I argued last week, pride comes before the fall and this pride that sends our lives into freefall is a "face" of fear that we don't measure up to who we should be.  We don't believe that we are I AM but we can't live with what we fear so we let into our lives the worldly tendency to come to judgments about others on not the best of evidence.

Prejudice is never a sign of strength or confidence; it is only a sign of fear and self-loathing.  We are susceptible to follow the world and seek to diminish persons or their place in society if we fear them.  Sometimes prejudice is grounded in a legitimate concern - immigrants moving to America did compete with other immigrants who already moved here.  Sometimes prejudice has no standing other than unfamiliarity.  We tend to be afraid of the unfamiliar.  And then there is the prejudice that is just plain silly; my strong dislike of the Chicago Cubs because I am afraid (fear) that they have a better team than my St. Louis Cardinals.

Prejudice as a reflection of either society's rational or irrational fear corrupts some and destroys others.  Someone must bear the crush of pride that gushes out of society's prejudice; there must be "losers" if there are to be "winners."  The fathers and mothers must teach their children well how it goes; the "pecking order" must be maintained for the proper order of society. 

Whether as judged by financial wealth, parentage, race, religion, gender, sexual orientation or some other litmus test for judgment on not the best of evidence, the powerless of any society will be held down and forbidden to rise out of their powerless places to challenge society's assumptions which serve the interests of those with more clout.  There are "winners" and "losers," at times it is no more than a perception and at other times it is a whole lot more.

I am a bit sheepish to say it yet again as I have said it a number of times in this Lenten series, but it is true about our "faces" of fear.  There seems never a time that this has not been the case.  It has been this way for a long, long time.

Luke tells a story that has at its center racial and religious prejudice; it is one of the more frequently told stories of the New Testament - the Good Samaritan.  On first glance, the story seems to be about "doing the right thing," help out someone in need, be a good neighbor.  But in the context of the passage, the evangelist has Jesus say something shocking really.

A follow-up question is posed by a lawyer who Jesus has just led to answer his own question with the understanding that he must "love his neighbor as [himself]" if he wants to "inherit eternal life" or, more aptly since Jews had no such quest, to "inherit the Kingdom of God."  "And [just] who is my neighbor?"

Jesus then tells the story where a Samaritan comes to the aid of a man who has been robbed and left for dead while the holy ones of Israel walk around his need.  Jesus concludes with a question of his own to the lawyer asked in so many words, "Who do you think was the neighbor to the man?"  The lawyer has not much choice but to say, "The one who showed him mercy."  Jesus then tells the lawyer to go and do as the Samaritan.

Sounds like good solid advice from a holy man until we grasp the significance that the man who "showed mercy" - the Samaritan - is the mortal enemy of the Jew.  Samaritans are Jews whose ancestors intermarried along the historical path with Israel's neighbors and not incidentally fell in with their array of gods and goddesses.  You could not do anything much more despicable from the Jewish perspective than violate YHWH's prohibition to intermarry outside the faith and worship other gods.

It is no wonder that Jesus was at odds with the religious elite of his time.  He was here to proclaim something completely foreign to their experiences and they had no ears to hear anything different.  They made their judgments about Jesus on the basis of not the best evidence -their prejudice.  The fear of the religious elite was more than a small-minded fear of the loss of their prestige; the threat was to the whole fabric of life as they had been taught and had known it.  Desperate men adopt desperate measures - as we will be liturgically reminded throughout the next week.

Jesus' inclusiveness, at least in the telling of his life by the 1^st century evangelists, flows out of Israel's storied past; it is an expansion on our lesson from Deuteronomy.  Moses shares as a part of the "essence of the law" with the people that "YHWH is not partial . . . and (listen closely) loves the strangers, providing them food and clothing."  Moses continues:  "You shall love the stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt."  Other passages give similar commands that God's people are not to show partiality.

St. Paul in his letter to the "churches of Galatia" stresses that Jesus breaks down cultural barriers that keep people apart and at odds.  Paul breaks down the justification for all prejudice as he creates room in God's Kingdom for the Gentiles. "There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.  And if you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham's offspring, heirs according to the promise [made to Abraham]."

Luke takes the inclusiveness a step further in Jesus' story to include Samaritans, the very definition of 1^st century Jewish prejudice.  Who are the Samaritans of our day?  Who does our society judge not on the best of evidence?  How inclined are you to accept its judgment upon them?

Maybe most importantly from a pragmatic view, what is lost to prejudice?  Austen is ultimately hopeful; Elizabeth's judgment on not the best of evidence - her prejudice - doesn't cost her the love of her life.  But when promise is cut off, what might be lost?  Who might that person have become; what might he have done to make life better for us all?  What is the cost to society of promise never allowed to rise?

If personal fears about who we are would not invite into our hearts and minds the prejudice outside of us, then we would have no need to worry about such questions.  Prejudice cannot infect the hearts and minds of those whose vision of humanity leave no need for pride to prop up their fears to judge their neighbors or strangers on not the best of evidence.

As Jesus' story makes clear whoever acts by whatever belief in the Spirit of God to regard neighbor or stranger as himself, he will inherit the Kingdom of God - whether a Jew, a Greek, a Samaritan - or fill in your own prejudice; and then, for your own sake, let it go.

This is how I see prejudice, the societal "face" of fear that takes promise away even as it leaves us believing it is for our own good.               Amen.

Next week, it is Palm Sunday; promise rides into the "faces" of a fearful city.