Presentation Sunday, February 2, 2025
Sermon delivered at Emmanuel Episcopal Church, Hailey, ID
I was a camp counselor at the Episcopal Camp Wingman the summer I was sixteen. Camp Wingman is located in central Florida near the town of Avon Park. As an Episcopal camp, Evening Prayer was offered from time to time, which I would attend. One of the more lovely canticles is the Song of Simeon, the Nunc dimittis. We would chant the Nunc dimittis, and I still remember the chant tune. And the words. Lord lettest thou Thy servant depart in peace, according to the thy word. For mine eyes have seen Thy salvation …
Simeon. This man waited his entire life for God to fulfill that one promise: hope. Hope not so much for himself, but for the world. The entire world.
A reminder to us during these dark times … that in God’s world, morning follows night. Light follows darkness. Hope.
To see, said Simeon, or as the Apostle John added, to touch, to feel, to taste, to hear. To imbibe. To become part of, and to have the Word become a part of you, and me, of us. You see, you and I are Jesus, after all. The Church, the Body of Christ. Not the institution. The living church. The human church.
Jesus. Savior, and what is the mission of Savior? What is our mission? You heard it spoken last week by Jesus, when he stood at Synagogue and recited his calling:
Bring goodd news to the po
Bring good news to the poor.
Proclaim release to the captives.
Give sight to the blind.
Let the oppressed go free.
To proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.
Jesus, Messiah, was called to accomplish reversal. The poor are on top. The person held against her will is freed. The blind sees. The oppressed are no longer oppressed.
Reversal.
Our new President has promised reversal, but he is not Messiah.
After he, during his inauguration speech claimed divine destiny - that God had saved him from the assassin to make America great again - I did something I seldom do, which is offer a simple post on Facebook challenging his claim. President Trump’s claim was hubris at best, or at worst, the taking of our Lord’s name in vein. Using God’s name for his own purpose.
A sincere friend of mine asked me why God spared Mr. Trump, then? If not for destiny. If not to make America great again? I responded to her that I doubted God spared him so much as the sniper simply missed.
Without getting into the weeds of my post, the point I would like to make is this. My friend asked sincere and honest questions, even though we disagree politically. She is an honest inquirer.
I too am an honest inquirer. I am curious to know what things our President will do to help the world - in accordance with the Jesus mission, our mission, to help the poor, to heal the blind, and so on.
Will our new president even out our tax system? I hope so.
Will he bring peace to Ukraine? I hope so.
Will he bring justice where it has been lacking? I hope so.
But the thing to understand is this - our President is not Christ. He is not Messiah.
Jesus is. So, back to Jesus.
People can read the Bible any way they want.
When people view god as retributive, unforgiving, they tend to find in the Bible a retributive, unforgiving god, a god of war and a god of punishment.
Alternatively, when people view God as a God of love, then they tend to find in the Bible a God of love and forgiveness. A God of hope.
Take your pick. For me, hope is what I find. Hope is what I experience. When I read the Bible, I encounter a God of love, of forgiveness. A God who cares not just about my world, but the whole world.
When I read the Bible, I experience the God of Simeon. For the whole world, helping those at the bottom, freeing people from what binds them.
I am bisexual. Many of you know this about me, or perhaps, given that I am in a same sex relationship, you might have assumed I am gay. Regardless, I am part of the LGBTQ+ community.
So are you. Part of the LGBTQ+ community, at least if you call yourself a Christian. Because, you see, the Christian finds him or herself identifying with the downtrodden.
The persecuted. You just have to. You don’t have to agree with behavior, but you have assume to Jesus’ role as liberator.
But that aside - what I want to say is this: As a bisexual person in these United States, I am low on the President’s list. I am low on the list of those on the far right, politically or religiously. There are people who have me in their sights. Who wish I did not exist.
Also. I have a daughter who is fully Mexican from a DNA standpoint. She is also fully American, born in these United States, and I’ve raised her from the day she was born. She, too, is on their list. And I wonder, what has she done to provoke these people?
(There is a lovely line in the movie, American President, when Annette Bening wonders about those who say they love America, but hate Americans?)
This provocation is why when Episcopal Bishop Budde spoke directly to our new President the day after inauguration at Washington Cathedral, she spoke for me. She spoke for my daughter. She spoke for all Christians when she implored President Trump to remember mercy. To remember those at the bottom. To remember those who are oppressed.
Sadly, our new president scoffed at Bishop Budde and later demeaned her. In my book, Bishop Budde is a hero.
My point, though, is not to vilify the President nor sanctify Bishop Budde. Rather, I want to talk about how we, as Christians respond given the times in which we live. For these are hard times. Especially for those at the bottom.
With that, I would like to return to the mission of Jesus. Of love. Of forgiveness. And of hope.
I always start with hope. That light follows the dark. After all, The earth is the Lord’s, and all it contains.
And you and I are believers - we are invited to believe - to believe, to hope, to know that what we see is not all there is. That God is living and active and involved in this world in redemptive ways. Hopeful ways. Which is why I beg you, never, never lose hope.
Second, Jesus asked us to love our enemies. That means political enemies, not just personal. Hard, I know, but love comes from someplace deep inside, from a relationship with God, from a daily walk with God. We love because he first loved us, Scripture tells us.
And as I suggested, Jesus became all to save all. And so must we, at least metaphorically.
Which means this: when it comes to mistreatment of migrants, remember that we, too, are migrants.
When it comes to mistreatment of transgendered persons, remember that we, too, are transgendered.
When it comes to mistreatment of a Palestinian, or an Israeli, remember that we, too, are Palestinian, Israeli.
Again, Jesus became all to save all.
Third, this we must do: stand. When something you believe in or someone you know is being persecuted or maligned, stand. Stand, fight, speak, write. You have more power than you realize. Use it, only use it in love.
Use your power to love.
The Presentation of Jesus is a rite akin to baby baptism. When you and I were baptized our parents and godparents, by donating us to God just as Mary and Joseph donated Jesus to God, promised this on our behalf: that we would …
respect the dignity of every human being.
Thank you for your honesty, Rev. Rob. David and I will be returning soon. Leslie johanson