To Wipe The Slate Clean: Luke 6-8
May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable unto your sight- oh Lord, my strength and my redeemer.
Amen
Please be seated-
I don’t know about y’all- but I loved the Super Bowl halftime show. I have a feeling I’m probably the only one in here who did but I’ve long been a fan of Kendrick Lamar- I mean, the man has a Pulitzer Prize for his song writing. The reason I bring it up here is because I saw on Instagram that a large church was using the song “They Not Like Us” in their service- in the most fabulously cringe worthy way ever. I sent it to Father Ben and he made the comment that Jesus had something to say about people not being like us – and it got me to thinking….
The past two weeks I found myself in Atlanta on Wednesday nights- and I’ve always been curious about other parishes in our diocese. I love visiting places, getting to meet new people, and in general knowing more about the places that I get to help post about on social media for the diocese.
It’s been roughly two years since I finished up this formal training to be a licensed lay minister, and as part of it we all attend something called Here I Am Day. Now I’m embarrassed to admit, I didn’t know why we called it Here I Am Day until probably the day I went. Of course I’m sure all of you know that it comes from Isaiah 6:8 “Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, “Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?” And I said, “Here am I. Send me!” And on this day we heard from people in different parts of our diocese but one that stood out to me was a deacon from Holy Comforter. And he spoke about how many, many years ago- white flight left the Ormewood Park neighborhood with little of the population that was once there. And the rector at the time asked the Bishop what was he to do- and he was told to minister to the people around you, who is your community? Their community was now half way houses and the like- for lack of better, more appropriate wording.
When you go now to visit, it’s really hard to remember this, I had forgotten myself just exactly how it happened. I pulled up to the church and was surprised to find that it wasn’t off the main highway- I had pictured it in East Atlanta just off of the busy Moreland Highway, but it’s not. It’s right in Ormewood Park. Currently just this super cute neighborhood that’s way out of my price range – no I’m not looking to move but I tend to observe these things in general.
I went inside and sat in the back, as I generally do anytime I visit a new church but I also had some tight work deadlines for the diocese and figured it would be ok to do some work- plus I had cleared it with their music director. It turns out we’re Instagram friends.
When you go inside, the building itself is rather unassuming- I think it’s made of cinderblock. The windows appear to be from the 1970’s. There’s no glorious Gothic architecture and I’m not sure it even has our usual upside down boat appearance. The attendees sing loud and generally off key- though their music director loudly and skillfully carries them.
What you will also see is it’s obvious that many in the church are, as their website says, living with mental illness – and all of us participate in the life of the community. This is something that is so obvious that it cannot be avoided. And while I tried to hide in the back I had many, many people come straight up to me- look me dead in the eye and say “I don’t know you, what’s your name?” And shake my hand. No pretence. No wrapping it in cute Southernisms called manners. Stark. Direct. Welcoming. After the service there’s dinner and more people saying the same thing. And when I went back the next Wednesday it was the same- but this time a few remembered me and remembered my name. I’m not sure what that says about me that they are labeled as mentally ill yet they can remember my name and I can’t remember any of theirs.
I find that so often we are scared of the stranger- the different. Because we fear what we don’t understand. And yet, here in Luke- before we get to the part about loving your neighbor- Jesus is telling us to turn the other cheek. Start over. Wipe the slate clean. Because in doing so, we cast out the chance to fear. In allowing the slate to be wiped clean we open the door to love. Not the sentimental syrupy kind but the Agape love.
Bishop Wright in his podcast calls his reflection “Dangerous Oddness” – and he says “I think that the church oftentimes is guilty of trying to fit Jesus into sort of mainstream, acceptable behavior and I think that that does violence and damage to Jesus’s actual words and actual way to be. And so what I’m aware of in and this, this whole business in Luke six about loving enemies, is just one big, gigantic sort of, you know, flashing sign that I think Jesus is saying we are different and that’s why, you know, we entitled it dangerous oddness, dangerous oddness is a phrase I’m borrowing from Walter Brueggemann, who says that Jesus is the alternative to the empire. Right, Jesus is the alternative to the status quo. And if you start to look at Jesus in Matthew, Mark, Luke and John through that lens, Jesus is not trying to make you a good American, trying to make you something that causes your workplace, culture, society to really look at you like what is this odd person? Who is this odd person?”
The people at Holy Comforter are seen as odd by so many. They speak differently, they sing off key, but they see the stranger and they confront it head on– without fear. Welcoming you in. Remembering your name. They could have been easily left behind by their parish- but once the neighborhood started to “improve”, and their housing moved elsewhere, the parish continued their commitment by bussing their parishioners in.
It reminds me of another conversation that is happening in the world around right now about “Ordo Amoris”- this thought from St. Thomas Aquinas about the order in which we should love people. But what a lot of people discussing this thought from Aquinas are missing is that we are to love our neighbor- and forgive our enemies. When I read the original text it bears up and matches the Gospel- everyone is our neighbor, and we are to approach everyone with that same baseline view.
It would be so easy to not get to know those folks at Holy Comforter- to not see them as neighbor, but we need to be open to doing so first. And in order for our hearts to be open, that slate must be wiped clean- the other cheek turned.
What Jesus is telling us to do in Luke is, frankly, what he does for us. He forgives. He washes the feet of Judas. The person he knows will betray him. He washes the feet of Peter- the person he knows will deny him. We turn our backs on Jesus daily, and we use the words of the most Earthly powerful to justify it. And yet, He is still here for us. Asking us to forgive. To love. And I’d like to think that with all of the lonely people there are in this world, myself often being among them, that if he only actually lived out his words- how wonderful that would be.
Readings for today:
https://www.episcopalchurch.org/lectionary/epiphany-7c/
Sources:
https://ccel.org/ccel/augustine/doctrine/doctrine.xxvii.html
https://genius.com/Kendrick-lamar-not-like-us-lyrics
https://www.newadvent.org/summa/3026.htm
https://www.americamagazine.org/faith/2025/02/13/ordo-amoris-stephen-pope-vance-249926?fbclid=IwY2xjawInQkBleHRuA2FlbQIxMQABHaZhQaPCZu43UkvNGB3C5-CQ8tDvJLzZVokQS8x63YRZGCFeIIIEAQZcig_aem_ozbQU02KtSyd55JLLE-b-A
