Communion in the World
Ordinary Time XXVI (World Communion); October 1, 2006
Esther 7:1-10, 9:20-22
The designers of our lectionary give us this one snippet from the Book of Esther to try to encompass the entire story. That is impossible, of course, and it is not really possible for me to tell you the whole story today, either. Let this be the summary: Esther became a hero to her people by risking her life and position for them; she saved them from a terrible fate by exposing the plot of Haman and he was punished for it. The Jewish festival of Purim commemorates what Esther and her adoptive father Mordecai did to save the Jewish people.
Two comments. One: a wit once described every Jewish holiday as having essentially the same character. Namely, “They tried to kill us; we survived; let’s eat.” Two: the story of Esther and Purim suggests that life and liturgy are woven together, that there is not a sharp division between faith and life; in other words, the world cannot ignore religion and religion cannot ignore the world. In Esther’s case, woven together are faith and public policy.
Last year on World Communion Sunday I preached my first sermon as your Pastor; I called it “A World in Communion.” It included a hopeful vision of the entire world gathered around the Holy Table, a vision we share on World Communion Sunday every year. This year I am inverting that idea from a world in communion to communion in the world. Here is the summary idea: when we share the communion of this Table, it is not a retreat into Never-Never Land. This Table is set right in the midst of the world’s triumphs and agonies, the world’s wickedness and goodness.
You and I come to this Table bringing our personal triumphs and agonies, our own wickedness and goodness right along with us. We can’t park them at the door. In the eighteenth century on the American frontier, when people went to worship on Sundays, they would carry their firearms with them. They left their rifles at the door of the Church. That’s well enough, but you can’t leave your responsibilities and relief, your pains and your pleasures at the door of the Church. They come with you to the Table. The Table does not make us forget life and all its realities; the Table gives us opportunity to offer those realities to Christ, and for Christ to bless our realities.
The world comes with us too. I’ve been thinking about that and about whether my preaching reflects that truth. For example, there is a lot of agitation in the Church about the war in Iraq and I have been mostly silent about it, except to pray for our leaders and for those in the midst of the conflict. I have asked myself why I have not said anything about it, why I do not thunder from the pulpit as so many do. One possible answer is, of course, fear: the fear that some of you will be offended and will walk out, or will try to hurt me emotionally or financially. But I know that is not the reason, both because I know I have more courage than that, and because I know you are better than that. Another possible answer is my fidelity to the Revised Common Lectionary, and that there has been nothing in the Bible readings about the war in Iraq. But that’s a cop-out, since Scripture is always alive in the midst of reality and can lead the preacher to comment on what is needful. So I’m sure that is not the reason I have not preached about the war. And another possibility is the so-called separation of Church and State, but anyone who understands the Constitution and the law knows that preachers are not prohibited from speaking about public policy. Sure, the IRS is going after a church whose pastor preached against the war back in 2004, but I suspect we have not heard the whole story. Either he was in fact more partisan than he is letting on, or else the IRS will lose, because the only limitation on what a preacher can say is that we are not allowed to equate Christian discipleship with voting for particular candidates or parties. Some Catholic bishops told their followers that it would be wrong to vote for pro-choice candidates; I’m still waiting for the IRS to say anything to them.
The reason I have said little about the war in Iraq is there is no clear Gospel mandate on what we should do. The earliest Christian tradition was, of course, pacifism, and if we had stuck with that then it would be my clear obligation to preach against any use of military force. But for centuries we have not thought that way. And I admit to you that when I heard Colin Powell present the evidence to the United Nations, I supported the invasion. That he was misled and we were misled we found out only later, when it was too late. Would it be responsible policy to withdraw now? Frankly, that is not a question for a preacher, but for a diplomat.
There are any number of other questions I could talk about this morning: embryonic stem-cell research, the civil rights of homosexual persons, climate change, abortion, to name a few. As a responsible pastor, I probably will talk about them at appropriate times. This is my understanding, however: they are conflicted issues to be brought to the Table, for people of divergent views not to forget our differences but to bring our differences together to one Table. The Table is set in the midst of our conflicts, not as an escape from our conflicts. Our national and global agony over events in Iraq needs to come with us to the Table, but not so one party can browbeat the other, nor for one party to claim to be more Christian than the other.
You may have read in the paper last week[1] that James Dobson is encouraging pastors to remind their congregations that faithful Christians will vote Republican. There are those who identify the Gospel with the Republican Party platform, and others who identify the Gospel with the Democratic Party platform. They’re all full of hooey. The Gospel is not silent on public policy issues, but the Gospel does not always declare, “Vote this way” or “Vote that way.” Frequently, the Gospel’s proclamation is, “Bring your conflict to the Table and be fed by Christ. Bring your agony and triumph and the world’s agony and triumph to the Table and be fed by Christ. He will show a way.”
Esther and Mordecai found a way to deal with Haman’s plot; it involved political savvy, public policy, personal risk and faith. God’s work is in the midst of the world and God sets the Table in the midst of the world, even when the way is unclear and we have to muddle through the best we can. Keep muddling and be fed by Christ.
Thank you, oh God, for the witness of Esther and the insight and courage you gave her. Guide us and those who govern us, for the sake of Jesus Christ. Amen.
Robert A. Keefer
Westminster Presbyterian Church
Clarinda, Iowa