In the shadow of conflict, we gather as people seeking peace. You, O God, reach out inviting us to journey the path of reconciliation and justice. May your Word grant us courage and conviction. Amen[3]
The Reading: Psalm 51:1-10 NRSV
1 Have mercy on me, O God,
according to your steadfast love;
according to your abundant mercy
blot out my transgressions.
2 Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity,
and cleanse me from my sin.
3 For I know my transgressions,
and my sin is ever before me.
4 Against you, you alone, have I sinned,
and done what is evil in your sight,
so that you are justified in your sentence
and blameless when you pass judgment.
5 Indeed, I was born guilty,
a sinner when my mother conceived me.
6 You desire truth in the inward being;
therefore teach me wisdom in my secret heart.
7 Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean;
wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.
8 Let me hear joy and gladness;
let the bones that you have crushed rejoice.
9 Hide your face from my sins,
and blot out all my iniquities.
10 Create in me a clean heart, O God,
and put a new and right spirit within me.
May the Light of Christ dwell where the Word is spoken. Thanks be to God!
Sermon: Create in Me a Clean Heart Rev. Lorrie Lowes
Today is Racial Justice Sunday, and I think it is fitting that it falls in the season of Lent. This is a season of confession and repentance and we take that seriously each week with our prayers of confession. We take stock of our lives and our actions; we think about how our actions move us away from God and God’s purpose; we ask for forgiveness, and we commit to turning our lives around. We are assured that God forgives us and loves us, and we put ourselves on a straighter path. All this is important. It’s good to take the time to be intentional about looking at our lives as Christians and to take stock of how they fit with God’s dream and Jesus’ example. Racial Justice is certainly an issue that needs examining in this process. It’s a bit trickier than most issues, however, because it is sometimes hard to recognize in our own lives. We, as predominantly white, privileged Canadians, often think of it as a problem “out there”, as something that doesn’t pertain to us.
The Psalm that Tamara read for us this morning is attributed to David. It is certainly full of confession and repentance. In order to understand it, we need to know the story of David and Bathsheba, and the prophet Nathan. So, in a nutshell, it goes like this…
By this time, David was King – chosen by God and anointed by Nathan. He was a great military leader and well-loved by his people. He lived a life of power and luxury. His life was a far cry from his beginnings as a shepherd boy, too low in the birth order of his family to ever expect to become the head of the family or to inherit much at all in the way of land or wealth. His life had taken an unexpected turn when God chose him to lead the people, and life was good beyond his imagination. One day, we’re told, he saw Bathsheba bathing on the roof of her house. She was beautiful! He sent his servants to bring her to the palace. She would be honoured to be noticed by the king! This was not to be a one-night stand, of course; David fell in love with her and wanted to take her as a wife. The problem was that she was already married and her husband was Uriah, one of his greatest generals, and also a friend. He wouldn’t cause Uriah to be disgraced. Uriah was away, fighting battles for the king. David decided to give Uriah a job that put him into a position on the front line, leading the assault – a dangerous but important role. Uriah was killed in the battle. David took the mourning widow, Bathsheba, as his wife. What he was doing seemed reasonable and admirable – in his own eyes as well as in the eyes of most around him. By marrying Bathsheba, he protected her honour and took care of his friend’s widow. God and Nathan didn’t quite see it that way, however. Nathan tells King David a story about a wealthy man with a huge flock of sheep who doesn’t want to give up one of his own sheep to serve his important guests, so he steals the one and only lamb of his poor neighbour instead. David reacts with outrage and says the man should be put to death! Nathan points out that David’s actions are exactly the same, and so we have David’s plea to God, his confession and his request for forgiveness.
So, how does this story relate to Racial Justice? Well, I think in some ways, we are much like King David. He didn’t see that what he was doing was wrong. In his mind, taking Bathsheba in the first place, he was giving her an incredible compliment – she had won the notice and the love of the king! He didn’t take her as a mistress but as a wife. By marrying her, he was elevating her status and her lifestyle, while saving her from the difficult position of widow. Uriah died in battle, but David didn’t kill him by his own hand, it was just one of the hazards of being a brave general in the King’s army, after all. He was really quite honourable in all of this – or so he thought, until he was shown the full brunt of his actions. His position as king gave him not only great responsibility but a lavish lifestyle and a great amount of privilege. He was a good man – history remembers him as a good ruler and beloved by God – but he was blind to the harmful effect his good deeds could have on those around him – even those he considered friends, even those he loved.
He had sent his servants to bring back the woman who caught his eye. Could they have spoken up to tell him that he shouldn’t do this, that she was the wife of a man he loved and depended on? He offered himself to Bathsheba. An honour, perhaps, but did she have any choice, any power to say no? If she had refused the advances of the king, what would the consequences be for her, for her husband and his position? He gave Uriah an order to lead his troops in battle – from the front line. Could Uriah, who was actually there on the battlefield, tell him that this particular battle was a bad idea? That he was putting, not just Uriah, but all of his soldiers in grave danger? So many questions… Questions that would never be asked of David because he held the power and the privilege of his position in that society. If any of those people had voiced their concerns or posed those questions, would he even have listened? Or would have said, “Don’t be ridiculous! Look what I’ve done for Bathsheba, out of love and honour…I didn’t rape her, I love her and she loves me!... Look at how I put Uriah into the responsible and honoured role of leader… Yes, some terrible things have happened - but I didn’t kill anyone. I didn’t hurt anybody… How can you put any blame on me? I am a good person.”
When it comes to racism, we tend to think of it as a problem “out there”. It’s not a problem in our community, and certainly not in our church. “I am not a racist!” is a statement that most of us in this congregation would be comfortable with. We have friends who have brown or black skin. We welcome people of all skin colours and cultures into our midst. We are friends with the people of the Jami Omar mosque. Horrific things are happening in the world, particularly to our brothers and sisters who don’t look like us, but we aren’t doing those things. We are good people.
Almost a year ago, a black man named George Floyd died at the hands – or rather the knee – of a police officer in Minneapolis. The footage of that knee on the neck of a restrained man for eight minutes was seen all over the world, igniting racial tensions and deeply held grief. His cry of, “I can’t breathe,” will haunt us forever. Just this past week, 6 people of Asian descent were murdered in Atlanta by a white gunman. These cities are a long way from Bells Corners and the racial strife in the United States is well-known and visible to the world. We look at what happens to people of colour to the south of us and condemn it. What does it have to do with us? We aren’t like that police officer. Things like that don’t happen here… Do they?
Or are we, like King David, seeing only from our position of privilege. Have we ever asked the people of those diverse groups that we welcome into our midst what their experience is? And if we do ask, are they comfortable enough to tell us the truth? Do we listen to understand or do we immediately go on the defense… I was only trying to help… It was only a joke… You are taking it the wrong way… Of course, I would never do something to hurt you, I care about you… You are reading more into this than is actually there… You are being overly sensitive…
We take offense at being labeled racist. Robin Diangelo, has written a book about it called “White Fragility”. For us, the term ‘racist’ comes with the connotation of wickedness. What we hear is ‘bad person’. We put up our defenses, we stop listening, we close our ears and our minds. Anne Bishop, a Canadian author, also tackles this in her book, “Becoming an Ally”. She tries to explain racism in a different way:
Remember that everyone in an oppressor group is part of the oppression. It is ridiculous to claim you are not sexist if you are a man or not racist if you are white, and so on… all members of this society grow up surrounded by oppressive attitudes; we are marinated in it. It runs in our veins; it is as invisible to us as the air we breathe… A white person never becomes “non-racist” but is always a “recovering racist.”
A “recovering racist”… Perhaps this is easier to understand. We are familiar with this concept in terms of addiction or alcoholism. I have a friend who has been sober for close to 40 years. We would say she has licked the problem – but she can never let her guard down. In her mind, she will always be a “recovering alcoholic”. Particularly in a culture where drinking is socially acceptable, even socially expected, it would be so easy for her to slip back into old habits… Anne Bishop says recovering racists are often referred to as “anti-racist” but I wonder if this is just another way to make ourselves feel that we have licked the problem and can let our guard down. That term still sounds to me like, “I’ve fixed my problem; I’m not a racist anymore, and so now I just get to call out other people’s racist behaviour.” The temptation might be to close our ears, our hearts, and our minds once more. I think we need to stop taking offence and start taking responsibility. We aren’t bad people, but we have a lot to learn and a lot to unlearn.
In our Lenten sermon series, Rev. Kim and I have been looking at some of the identities of Jesus. In choosing an Old Testament reading this week, I do not mean to stray from this theme. So, let’s take a look at Jesus in the context of his time and place in history. The first and perhaps most important thing to remember about Jesus, the man, is that he was a devout Jew. His mission wasn’t to destroy the Jewish religion, far from it. He wanted people to look at the sacred teachings and writings with new eyes. He wanted people to hear God’s message from a new perspective. When we examine the perspective of the people of his time, we see a culture with a long history of oppression. The way society works is tied to power – whoever is at the top, has power over everyone below. That power changes hands throughout the Old Testament and I’m sure this was the case for centuries before that. A conquering tribe takes possession of the land and control over all that is in it, including the people. Eventually, there might be an uprising and another war happens – sometimes turning that power structure upside down so that a new hierarchy is in place – but there is always a hierarchy. It is accepted as “the way the world works”. In Anne Bishop’s words, they were marinated in it. They couldn’t imagine anything different. Jesus’ mission was to change that dynamic, to bring peace on earth. What the Jewish people of his time interpreted that to mean was that the oppressor – Rome – would be destroyed and so they would be liberated. But then what? Without a whole new way of thinking about how the world works, the liberated, the “good guys” would then hold the power over and the control of everything. The cycle would continue. I don’t think this is what Jesus, or God, had in mind. This Messiah was not a conquering warlord but a social activist. His message to the people was not about who is good and who is bad. His message was about God’s love for all people and all of creation. Love your neighbour as you love yourself, love your enemy, love creation, love, love, love… Jesus’ mission wasn’t to put people who looked like him and worshipped like him in charge of the world. His mission was to break down the barriers that divide people, to replace “power over” others to “power with”. He showed over and over again that there is enough to go around – enough food, enough wealth, even enough wine for a good celebration – as long as we see each other as equal rather than in a hierarchy, as long as we see the world’s resources as gifts for all, rather than owned and controlled by the current mightiest. His message was one of change through love and peace, not through violence and fear. His social activism was new and creative. He didn’t use weapons or might to change things, he used stories that people could identify with. His message was one of relationship – of really knowing your neighbour, of listening with an open heart, of taking care of each other because we are all loved by God, not in spite of our differences but because of them.
“Create in me a clean heart, O God,” David implores, “and put a new and right spirit within me.”
His plea came after his eyes were opened to the problem with his actions, after he was able to hear God through the prophet Nathan, after he was willing to let down his defensiveness and admit that, even as a good person, he had a lot of work to do.
The way the world works hasn’t really changed that much over the 2000 years since Jesus walked among us. Slavery has been abolished, residential schools have been closed, apologies have been made – but still people who are different from us in some way – skin colour, sexuality, culture, faith, really anything other than white, straight, of European descent, able-bodied, and even male – are still disadvantaged. We can say we love them all and we can work toward changing that reality, but until we listen, really listen to what their experience is, until we acknowledge that we all still have work to do, the kind of change that Jesus preached may never happen.
There is so much more to say on this difficult topic of racial justice. A Sunday sermon can barely scratch the surface, but I will end here with my confession to you: I am a recovering racist. I don’t say this to apologize but to acknowledge that I have much to learn and unlearn. It is my fervent prayer that I will have the courage to open my ears and my mind to see where my life of privilege causes harm and that God will help me as I do the work to create a clean heart. I hope you will join me. Amen.
Sources:
Becoming an Ally: Breaking the Cycle of Oppression in People” (third edition) by Anne Bishop, Fernwood Publishing Co., Halifax and Winnipeg. 2015
“White Fragility: Why It’s So Hard for White People to Talk About Racism” by Robin Diangelo, Beacon Press, Boston. 2018
Mission and Service, UCC, June 4, 2020.
Grateful for the reflections, input and wisdom of the BCUC Lectionary Group
Prayers of the People and the Lord’s Prayer
Holy One,
On this Racial Justice Sunday, we wish we could celebrate the work that has been done in the world to end racial discrimination but the news tells us that it is not yet time for such celebration. We read in the news every day, examples of the oppression of people who struggle in this world because of the importance that is placed on the tone of a thin layer of cells that are meant to protect us. This week we have been newly horrified by the murder of 6 Asian women at the hands of a white gunman. We pray for their families and their community. We pray for ourselves that we might open our eyes and our hearts to recognize our role in making the way forward so slow and difficult.
Creator of all races and peoples, who loves each of us for our uniqueness, we offer our prayers of petition:
We pray for an end to discrimination in all its forms…
We pray that each person may be respected and valued as a child of God
We pray that the church may be a witness and a universal sign of unity among all peoples…
We pray that each of us may acknowledge our part in mistakes and sins of the past pertaining to discrimination and racism…
We pray for a spirit of forgiveness and reconciliation among peoples who share a history of mutual mistrust, hatred, or aggression…
We pray that the victims of prejudice may forgive those who persecute them, and that their persecutors may have a change of heart…
We pray that the church will continue to strive to make every element of human life correspond to the true dignity of the human person…
We pray for those who have struggled in the past, and continue to do so today, for civil rights, economic justice, and the elimination of discrimination based on race, nationality, sexuality, or religion…
We pray for the conversion of the hearts and minds of those who allow another’s race to influence their relationships and limit their openness…
We pray that we may work to influence the attitudes of others by expressly rejecting racial or ethnic stereotypes, slurs and jokes, and be affirming of the cultural contributions of every racial, ethnic, and religious group in our world…
We pray that we may make a personal commitment to abolish social structures which inhibit economic, educational and social advancement of the poor…
We pray that we may work for decent working conditions, adequate income, housing, education, and health care for all people…
Holy One, source of our life, we acknowledge you as Creator of all people of every race, language, and way of life. Help us to see each other as you see us: your sons and daughters loved into being, and sustained by your parental care. Keep watch over our hearts so that the evil of racism will find no home with us. Direct our spirits to work for justice and peace so that all barriers to your grace which oppress our brothers and sisters will be removed.[4]
All this we ask in the name of Jesus, our example in social activism, and in the words he shared with his followers:
Our Father, who art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name.
Thy kin-dom come, thy will be done, On earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread, And forgive us our trespasses
as we forgive those who trespass against us.
And lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil.
For thine is the kin-dom, the power and the glory, Forever and ever, Amen.
Invitation to Offer
We know that social change can only come about with open hearts that receive God’s message, open eyes and ears to witness the places in our world where there has been a straying from that path, courageous voices open hands to offer help where needed. We also know that investment of our treasure is needed for much of this work to move forward.
I now invite you to offer your gifts of time, talents and resources as expressions of your gratitude to God’s blessings and your commitment to the work. If you are not on PAR and wish to send in your offering and donations, you can drop them in the slot by the kitchen door of the church or mail them to BCUC. You can also send in your support through e-transfer. Thank you for your continued love and support to BCUC.
Offertory Prayer
When you reach out, it means the world to us, O Christ. When we reach out to the world, that outreach gives meaning to your name. bless this offering, we pray, that it may touch many in the world. Amen.
Sending Forth
As we go forth from this time of worship, our loving and compassionate God is with us.
As we become aware of our need to change, God supports us.
As we find courage to walk the faithful path, God journeys with us.
When we are tempted to turn back, God renews our vision.
When we joyfully follow the way of Jesus, God celebrates with us!
As we make this Lenten journey, God’s courage and peace will be ours!
Thanks be to God! Amen.[5]
Hymn: My Soul Cries Out More Voices #120 - BCUC Choir, violin: Leslie Wade
