Ubuntu: Divine Humanity

Twenty-Third Sunday After Pentecost ● November 5, 2023

Readings: Hebrews 4:15 (New Revised Standard Version Updated Edition), Matthew 26:37-39 (The Living Bible), Leviticus 19:18 (The Living Bible)

Becca Love, Guest Preacher © 2023

You can view the full worship video recording at:
https://youtu.be/GX3zJlbokes?si=EbmqdiIP6nm25oVc

This is a heavy time to be given a microphone, a platform of any kind. I haven’t posted anything on social media since October 7th, out of fear that my words will be hurtful to someone I love, or that I will be misunderstood, or my words may be somehow so offensive to someone that I get held up as an example of ignorance or worse. A lot of people have said “the silence is deafening” regarding those who haven’t posted anything about the terrifying violence in Palestine and Israel, so that even my choice to not post has been called into scrutiny and condemnation.

These times are incredibly painful, for obvious reasons, but partially because there is pressure, an urgent expectation to not just take a side but to declare with full-throated certainty to a large crowd of online spectators what we believe without fully processing what is happening. We have witnessed and are witnessing horrific acts. We have watched people dehumanize each other through incredible violence, and we have watched people dehumanize each other through censorship, shame, and disregard for their human experience. Of course, those who are being killed, or who are being held hostage, who have lost their loved ones, their sense of safety, contact with the outside world, their homes, they are in the worst position, if they are still alive at all. While centering that truth and reality, this past month has been damaging to everyone in different ways. It has been hard for many to find solid ground when there are such loud, passionate, and conflicting voices assessing events in real time. The dangers of islamophobia and antisemitism are very present. Many of my own loved ones feel unsafe, no matter where they are.

In trying to find my own footing, I’ve recently been wearing my cross necklace every day. I’ve had it for several years but I typically don’t wear it all the time. About three weeks ago, I put it on and felt grateful to have this physical reminder, this symbol I could touch in order to be brought back to the center of my faith. In the midst of all of this, I am grateful to have a faith, to have something to look to for direction and to hold on to when I am feeling so deeply unmoored and heavily aware of the hurt that my words and my silence could cause.

So what is this center I return to whenever I touch the cross around my neck? What does it mean to be a Christian? Put simply, it means we follow the way of Jesus. We have a person, one who is the son of God, but who also comes to us through a human birth, who calls us to care for one another, and to seek and trust God. And, while interpretations of that have dramatically diverged into conflicting factions over the last 2000-ish years, the root is still there. What Jesus did in his life remains the same. As it says in the book of Hebrews ‘Jesus is the same yesterday and today and forever.’ And as Christians, the most simple, clear thing we can do, is to consider how Jesus lived, and what he taught us, so that we may strive to embody his mission.

The next thing to consider is why is Jesus such an important figure for us to follow? Why do we look to Jesus, specifically? For me, I find Jesus to be a truly helpful source because he knows what it's like to be a human on this Earth. And that includes the beauty of the experience, as well as the heartbreak and the danger. And he does it while constantly trusting in God. Of course as the son of God, Jesus is divine. And by living his life as a human on this earth, he fully *embodies* that divinity. His divinity exists within his humanness. Jesus was a human on this earth and while here he had human emotions and certain human limitations. In his divinity he had omniscience and at the same time, his humanness called for him to grow, make mistakes, and learn. I know it might seem jarring to think of Jesus making mistakes but remember that mistakes are part of how humans learn. In his time on Earth, Jesus took in information and learned from others. He was always drawing nearer to God, and calling others to do the same, often by drawing closer to each other, caring for each other. Thus Jesus gave us a model of how we, even as humans, can move ever closer to our own divinity: By embracing our human relationships and drawing closer to God.

Just as it was with Jesus, our divinity and our humanity aren’t necessarily on a pendulum, two states we move in and out of with polar opposite values. Rather, they exist fully and simultaneously within us and within each other. Imagine them like our inhale and our exhale. They aren’t even the air we breathe, they are the way the air moves through us. With the spirit moving through us like a breath, it is our humanity and divinity allowing the spirit to move through us in equal yet different ways. And every person has both, with both deeply connected to our fellow humans.

As followers of Jesus, our concept of taking sides should not be about identifying our enemy. Rather, our side is the side of humanity. Our people are all people. We are always striving to draw closer to the divine, closer to God, and we know in our heart of hearts that to do that, we must always draw closer to what is humane, what is human. Our divinity is bound, inextricably, with our humanity. And our humanity is to be found in all of humanity. My value as a human is tied to your value as a human. Even humans I don’t agree with. Even humans I don’t like. Even humans who I have watched do horrible things. If I begin to question the humanity of any other person, my own humanity suffers. It can be really hard to see the image of God in someone sometimes. Sometimes it’s hard to see because that person has done something really violent or unbelievably hurtful, maybe to you, maybe in front of you. Sometimes it can be harder to see the image of God in another because someone else intentionally tried to cover or destroy that image of God through violence. If someone or a group of people are being dehumanized, it is often, conscious or not, an attempt at destroying the image of God that exists there. Destroying the the physical body, yes, and also destroying the divinity, the spirit that exists in them. To call another person an animal, less than human, is to try to erase their humanity and to try to erase that image of God.

I am not on this earth to identify my enemies, but Jesus does call us to identify injustice. Throughout his ministry, Jesus was a social prophet, and was often in conflict with authorities and people connected to power, as he advocated for an alternative social vision, one that opposed empire.. He saw the brokenness and also saw a path towards healing, one that did not include vengeance or pity. Our emotions are part of our healing and can help us identify what we value, what we know to be true. Our passionate emotions are reasonable responses to what we experience but they are for us to feel, not for us to wield against another. They can inform our march towards justice but on their own they can lose sight of it.

In her book, “This Here Flesh,” Cole Arthur Riley briefly analyzes the role of lamentation on the path to justice. She writes, “In lament, our task is never to convince someone of the brokenness of this world; it is to convince them of the world’s worth in the first place. True lament is not born from that trite sentiment that the world is bad but rather from a deep conviction that it is worthy of goodness.”

She goes on to write, “Justice doesn’t choose whose dignity is superior. It upholds the dignity of all those involved, no matter whom it offends or what it costs. Even when demanding retribution, justice does not demean the offender’s dignity; it affirms it. It communicates that what has been done is not what the offender was made for. They, too, were made for beauty. In justice, everyone becomes more human, everyone bears the image of the divine. Justice does not ask us to choose.”

Jesus may be the same yesterday, today, and forever, but the tone of the gospels did evolve over time. The later the gospels were written after Jesus’ death, the more they refer to him as divine and having the qualities of God. It was as if the more time these humans spent thinking about and remembering this person of Jesus, the more they were able to recognize the divinity within him. Surely there was something great about him; his ministry was very short and yet reached so many people. He really did change the world in which he lived. And the world in which he lived was a very human world, in fact, it was the same world we live in today. When Jesus talks about a new world, a new life, we are also called to imagine this new life, a world beyond our wildest imagination.

In his book called ‘Everything Must Change,’ author Brian McClaren writes, “Perhaps we can envision what it would mean for us to confront the brokenness of our world in the way of Jesus, to expose it and deconstruct it, to intercept its trajectory and turn it to a better way, to reclaim its potential for ends more in line with its creation. A world that immediately recognizes the humanity and divinity in every person. A world that witnesses the suffering of another and laments the pain that is felt. Let’s imagine a world in which there are global movements, unleashing coordinated, well-planned acts of genuine, understanding and healing.”

In his weekly blessing on October 29th, Pope Francis said, “Let no one abandon the possibility of stopping the weapons. Ceasefire, ceasefire. Brothers and sisters, stop! War is always a defeat, always. Let there be room for humanitarian aid and may the hostages be freed immediately.” I don’t think about the Pope very often and there are plenty of things we don’t agree on. I’m not Catholic so this doesn’t really mean a lot with regard to my own faith. But I can recognize that his words mean a lot to a lot of people. And I can recognize and acknowledge when he does say something that I do agree with. “Let no one abandon the possibility of stopping the weapons.”

Our faith implores us to believe the unbelievable and imagine a new world, one in which all people are free, all people are safe, all people have all of the essentials and then some. Can we imagine a world in which the divinity of every person is readily visible to themselves and also to others? Let your faith rouse you to activism and require that your activism march towards justice, not revenge. There is no Justice that does not center a flourishing of life, for the true and deep flourishing of life requires the true and deep flourishing of all. My death is bound in your death, my life is bound in your life. I will fight for your life but I cannot call for another’s death; that will only serve to put out my own light.

It is nearly always a mix of deep pain, sorrow, fear, anguish, and red hot grief that is at the root of some of the most damaging and violent human behavior. Seeking to somehow soothe those feelings, humans sometimes act out in viciousness, in vengeance. Rage is an emotion that can have reasonable cause. The desire to soothe the feeling is reasonable. It is what we do in order to soothe that rage where we can get into trouble.

Like any person, Jesus had emotions and he regularly had disagreements. His disciples didn't always do what he asked, his human patience would grow thin, and people he met along his journeys would sometimes point out his own discrepancies. The book of Matthew gives us at least two examples of this. In Matthew 15, after Jesus first refuses to help her, the Canaanite woman reminds him that even dogs get to eat the crumbs that fall from the table, suggesting he is being unfair. He hears her, and understands her words. He changes his stance and immediately helps her. In that same book, Jesus grows frustrated at his disciples' lack of understanding and somewhat rudely says to them, “Are you still so dull?” The book of Mark includes the story of Jesus even getting angry at a fig tree when it doesn’t have any fruit for him to eat. Jesus has emotions. And opinions. And complicated social interactions where those emotions and opinions figure prominently and then are mixed with those of the other. Jesus is emotional but he doesn't call for violence. In our reading from Matthew earlier, we see Jesus experience not anger or frustration but rather anguish. As he knows his crucifixion draws near, Jesus cries “My soul is crushed with horror and sadness to the point of death.” He falls face down on the ground and prays to be released from the task which he knows he must complete. He prays, “My Father! If it is possible, let this cup be taken away from me.” And then, not in denial of his own passionate emotions but rather in tandem, Jesus says to God, “But I want your will, not mine.” Even Jesus has moments of fear. He knows what he is to do, and his human heart is scared and full of grief. And from that heavy and low place, he draws nearer to God, out of his love for all of humanity. Jesus weeps. And Jesus takes action.

May our love of God draw us closer to humanity, to protect the divinity that lives in all people, and to cry out for the safety of those suffering from active and relentless violence. May we continue to take in information and learn, just as Jesus did, on our human journey, recognizing what we are to do. Let us not seek vengeance but instead follow our passionate emotions towards a path of true justice and true healing. Let us not abandon the possibility of stopping the weapons. Ceasefire. Amen.

Copyright (c) 2023 - Becca Love
All rights reserved.