Thursday, December 19, 2013

Freedom, and Truth and Reconciliation, The Rev. Deacon Jackie Cherry, Advent 3, December 15, 2013

Last week, amid the memorials to Nelson Mandela, I was curious about how religious leaders

addressed his death from the pulpit. I read several, and even listened to a few, sermons from

Advent II. During this process, I began to feel hot and irritated. Usually, I feel this way in a

meeting or at some public event when something that I think should be said isn’t being said.

What the media, and the preachers, are saying about Mandela is true – he was a peacemaker,

freedom fighter, hero, reconciler, prophet. Mandela committed his life to human rights. In 1993

three years after his release from prison, Mandela shared the Nobel Peace Prize with South

African president Frederik Willem de Klerk.

But what they are not saying is also true - the leaders of this country and many countries around

the world, considered Mandela a communist terrorist; he was reviled by some until the day he

walked out of jail, others reviled him until the day he died. Before he was imprisoned, the once

nonviolent Mandela shifted his political strategy after realizing the tragic truth that peaceful

resistance was not enough to overturn an entrenched and brutal government. Mandela was

offered freedom in exchange for publically denouncing the use of armed resistance. He refused.

Isaiah and John the Baptist present conflicting descriptions of the coming of Christ; the prophets

contradict themselves and one another. Isaiah presents a world transformed; a paradise where

waters break forth in the wilderness, and streams in the desert. And the rough and rowdy John

calls his hearers to repentance holding a winnowing fork in one hand and the water of baptism

in the other.

As surely as John the Baptist proclaimed the coming of the Messiah last week, this week he sits

alone in his jail cell, death drawing near, overcome with doubt. John wants to know the truth and

sends his disciples to ask Jesus: Are you the one? Or shall we wait for another?

Like Isaiah and John the Baptist, Nelson Mandela proclaimed his vision of a new world. Unlike

John, who was killed in prison, Mandela lived to walk free. Mandela said, “To be free is not

merely to cast off one’s chains, but to live in a way that enhances the freedom of others.” And

that’s just what he did. The mainstream media is stuck on the image of Mandela as the peaceful

master of reconciliation. However, I’m not entirely sure Mandela himself would agree with this

representation.

Still annoyed by the narrow scope of commentary on Mandela’s life, I happened upon President

Obama’s memorial eulogy. With relief and gratitude, I heard the president say,

There are too many people who happily embrace Mandela’s legacy of racial

reconciliation, but passionately resist even modest reforms that would challenge chronic

poverty and growing inequality. There are too many leaders who claim solidarity with

Mandela’s struggle for freedom, but do not tolerate dissent from their own people.

And there are too many of us on the sidelines, comfortable in complacency or cynicism

when our voices must be heard.

Obama continued,

It took a man like Mandela to free not just the prisoner, but the jailer as well, to show

that you must trust others so that they may trust you; to teach that reconciliation is

not a matter of ignoring a cruel past, but a means of confronting it with inclusion and

generosity and truth.

Reconciliation is not a matter of ignoring a cruel past, but a means of confronting it with

inclusion and generosity and truth.

We Christians talk a lot about reconciliation, both in the worldwide church and here, in our

parish church. We say Jesus came to reconcile God and humanity. We have the sacrament of

Reconciliation of a Penitent. Bishops often heavy-handedly advocate for reconciliation – a thinly

veiled attempt to stifle conflict by avoiding unpleasant truths.

German theologian and Nazi resistance organizer Dietrich Bonhoeffer defined what he called

“cheap grace”. Cheap grace, Bonhoeffer wrote, is the grace we bestow on ourselves. It is the

preaching of forgiveness without requiring repentance; it is grace without the cross, grace without Jesus Christ, living and incarnate.

I’ve noticed that progressive Episcopalians tend to be uncomfortable with the concept of sin.

It’s a challenge for us to lovingly hold others and ourselves accountable for past and present

wrongful actions. We need desperately to find the middle way between ignoring sin altogether

and hitting people over the head with it. True reconciliation demands that we not shy away from

conflict.

After Nelson Mandela was elected president of South Africa, he appointed Archbishop

Desmond Tutu to lead the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. In his 1998 book Struggling

to Forgive, Brian Frost wrote about Mandela and Tutu’s shared, yet differing, approach

to reconciliation and forgiveness. Mandela often believed that reconciliation concerned

letting "bygones be bygones," but Archbishop Tutu emphasized that reconciliation and

forgiveness require repentance and confession.

Tutu’s insistence on repentance sounds strikingly similar to John the Baptist’s message from

last Sunday: "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near". In today’s gospel, Jesus

offers reassurance to John, and to us, that he is indeed the One about whom it is written,

‘I am sending my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way before you.'

I’d like to suggest that the familiar Advent theme of “prepare the way, make straight the path”

actually describes the process of reconciliation – a complex, three-part formula:

• Truth telling, or confession;

• A change of heart, or repentance;

• And an authentic effort to repair any damage done; restitution.

Confession, repentance and restitution make straight the path to justice. And reconciliation flows

from justice.

Today we are called to reflect, we are called to repent, we are called to open ourselves to God;

not just in this short season of Advent – God is forever ready to be born – but always.

When our cantor sings Come to us and set us free, we are not asking God to free us from

bondage, we are praying for the freedom that binds us in sure and certain hope that Jesus is

the one. May that bond free us to speak the truth; for my friends, bearers of truth, are bearers of

God.

Amen, come Lord Jesus.

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