Sixth Sunday of Easter, Year B

Sing a New Song


Readings: Acts 10:44-48; Psalm 98; 1 John 5:1-6; John 15:9-17

Most of us can cite some experiences of what it feels like to be left out, to be excluded. For instance, people often tell me that they cannot sing. Invariably the story will start something like, "When I was in grade one I was in the blackbird group. I was so out of tune the teacher made me mouth the words. I still can't sing." They talk about how terrible it felt to be excluded from classroom singing or from the choir.

Others of us remember the terror of choosing sides for a game. The two most popular, athletic types were always chosen as team leaders. The kids would gather around. One by one sides would be chosen. And there you would be, the odd person out, the only one not picked to play on a team. Then one of the leaders finally relents, "Oh, you can be on my team!" But because you're small and uncoordinated, you sit out most of the game or the star hovers around you grabbing the ball whenever it comes anywhere near you.

We live in a time and place in which cultures and peoples mix more than at any other time in history. Some time ago, there was an article in the Star reporting on a study of multiculturalism. Thousands of people were interviewed. What the researchers found was that skin colour, not religion or income was the biggest barrier to making immigrants feel as if they belonged in Canada. The darker the skin, the greater the alienation!

"We were surprised that religion didn't have more effect," one of the authors explained. However, on two levels the statistics did not surprise me. First of all religion no longer has the credence of society. It no longer has the importance that it once had. Secondly, society has its own ways of dealing with multiculturalism apart from any government or societal policies that could possibly be put into effect. Sometimes the response of society is to create closed communities that keep one’s way of living intact by excluding those who are different. Or we may create exclusive communities that are beyond the means of people who are not “like us”. We may ghettoize into communities as we did with our aboriginal peoples by segregating them on reserves. Or we may force people to change and become more like us. Many immigrants gave up their language and culture in order to become Canadian.

But the Christian faith gives us a third option, that of inclusion! Open the doors and welcome people in! However, inclusion runs risks. That is obvious from the reading from Acts. When you allow God to work through you, you lose control over who belongs and who does not. The passage follows Peter’s vision about clean and unclean foods that he had been commanded to eat. He did not understand the vision until he was invited to the home of Cornelius, a Gentile. He was speaking to the household when the Holy Spirit came over them. Just as on the day of Pentecost, they began to praise God in ways that the Christian church had assumed were exclusively theirs. The believers who had come with Peter were astounded that the Spirit of God should be given, not just to them, but to the Gentiles as well.

That got them moving. “Can anyone withhold the water for baptizing these people?” Peter asks. It becomes a time of renewal for the whole community as they welcome the newly baptized into their table fellowship.

The risks of inclusion are obvious also from John’s letter. He is writing to a community deeply divided by a theological dispute. Many had left the community over the difference in opinion. Some had questioned the humanity of Jesus, saying that Jesus could not possibly have been born human; neither could he have died as a human. Schism threatened the existence of the community. John asked them not to seek revenge or to be bitter, but to love. “Everyone who believes that Jesus is the Christ has been born of God,” he said to them. It is an inclusive statement that we so often glibly turn around. It calls us to love all of God’s children, not simply those we consider to be God’s children.

The risks of inclusivity are real. You might have to accept people whom you deem unworthy of the name of Christian. You might have to worship side by side with people of a different colour, race, economic status or sexual orientation. You might have to accept that we are all made in God’s image. You might have to struggle with the issues that face the Christian Church in the twenty-first century.

It may not seem like much to you as the story is told, but to the early church it was a complete change, a revelation. They were Jews. Their little community was a small sect, an insignificant branch of the Jewish faith. They maintained their ties to the synagogue. Even in the dispersion as the Jews began to spread throughout the Greek world, the expectation was that Christianity would continue to grow within Judaism. They kept the Jewish traditions. They adhered to Jewish law. But to their amazement, perhaps chagrin, the Gentiles were drawn to this new sect.

Judaism has never been an evangelical faith. They do not proselytize. Except perhaps through marriage, one does not often become converted to Judaism. One is born a Jew. It is tied to nationality as much as it is to faith. The early Christians grappled with how to maintain their allegiance to Judaism and live out their Christian faith. Could they remain Jews and still open up their faith to include the Gentiles? Yet that is where the Holy Spirit seemed to be leading them. And they listened.

When Peter and the early Christian community accepted Cornelius and his household as converts, they set a precedent, which changed their way of life completely. They went out on a limb for their faith. They went against culture, tradition, nationality, and religion. They were cut off from their roots. Yet their willingness to change opened up wonderful new possibilities. Christianity became a world religion.

Put that alongside the message of the Gospel. "Love one another as I have loved you," Jesus says. It is a call to inclusivity. It is not a call to love the loveable, the cuddly, the beautiful, the wealthy; rather it is a call to love those whom God has chosen. Yet what boundaries we put on God's love! We claim it exclusively for ourselves. We fail to affirm the validity of the religious experience of others simply because it does not resemble ours. We fail to respond to those who are looking for affirmation in their faith journey.

Jesus at the last supper offered the gift of himself. It was a gift without reservation, without restriction. In the Eucharist he continues to offer us that wonderful, free gift of grace. The reality of that giving is the model and criterion of Christian behaviour. We are called to "lay down our lives", to put others before ourselves, to love in a life-giving way. It is a call to be generous, not just by providing bread but also by sharing the deeper gift of ourselves. In the Eucharist, we share the one bread and the one cup with each other as a sign that in our daily lives we strive to share our bread, our blessings, and ourselves with others. In the carrying out of the mission of the church the Eucharist becomes honest and effective in our lives.

Jesus makes it clear that we do not do the choosing. We are the chosen. If you think about it at all, that is a tremendous affirmation of who we are, even of human nature. Why should we have been chosen to come into intimate relationship with God? Do you have a long list of reasons? If it were others choosing the teams, would we make it? If we were doing the choosing who would we exclude, or leave on the sidelines? With Christ doing the choosing we may find a few people included whose presence we find disturbing. The children God has chosen may break into the quiet flow of worship. The stranger with his hand out for help may assail our sensitivities. The HIV positive person reaching out for compassion may cause us to flinch. We are called to be inclusive of children, the poor, young people, refugees, social activists, the physically challenged, the mentally challenged, women, men, all whom God has chosen. Each of us is called to make our hearts open to those whose presence may disturb our peace and our assumptions.

How do we create Christian communities in which there is understanding and love in a life-giving, self-giving way? To create such communities would surely be risky on so many levels. It begins with responding to Jesus as friend. In doing so we would on some level “lay down our life for our friends”. It is unlikely that it would be the ultimate sacrifice. Yet we are called to ‘put our lives on the line for one another’. We are called to put others before ourselves. We are called to love in a life-giving way. It means being generous with other people, not just by providing bread but also by sharing the deeper gift of oneself.

Laying down our lives for one another may mean sacrificing time, thought, worry, concern, caring, sensitivity. It will result in abhorrence for the ways of the world, for the killing and alienation of the violent society in which we live. In the light of Christ’s Eucharistic sharing such things become even more abhorrent. Christ’s gift revealed in the Eucharist enables us to understand the unique value of human life and then respond.

How do we respond to Jesus? Do we respond as friend and brother? For we are blessed to have such a friend! If we are responsible Christians truly living out the gospel, then we like Peter must be open to the Holy Spirit moving in peoples' lives. It is not for us to ask how it could be that God would choose this person or that one; it is up to us to open ourselves and our community to others in Christian love. May we be a loving and caring community of faith. Amen.