Jesus Wept

 

Weeping over the Whys of life

Jesus Wept
a sermon by Rev. J. Christy Ramsey
Click the title above for a mp3 recording 

Audio from Valley Presbyterian Church, on March 8, 2020
edited from a flawless transcription made by edigitaltranscriptions; all errors are mine. 

John 11:1-45

Sermons also available free on iTunes

Speaking to a congregation after a pastor candidate decided not to come and meet them.

I don’t know about you, but I always want to know why. I’m nosy that way. And **** in her email – Leigh didn’t tell you. In her email said “personal concerns,” “personal reasons,” something with “personal” in it. And that’s kind of code. The first part is “It’s not about you, it’s about me.” Which is good. So it’s not about you. That’s good. Second part of the code is “Don’t ask.” So the whole “why” thing is kind of shut down for a while. I don’t know. Maybe we’ll talk again in another 30 years, and we can look back and figure out what happened. I don’t know.

But the why. “Why” about ministers, there’s a lot of that. You know, I don’t know about other professions. I don’t know, maybe getting this wherever you work, social service, or working with people on all sorts of things. But even in retail, I guess I get a little. But, boy, when I was a minister, I got a lot of whys. You know? Why are you doing it that way? What kind of minister are you? Why aren’t you doing this? Why haven’t you been here? How come you did not visit there? I was in the hospital; why didn’t visit me. Oh, my god.

I guess I was pretty defensive. And always drawn to this verse in the story, “Jesus Wept”, because it was actually my first sermon was on this verse in the story because I think I knew what was coming Kind of prophetic. Yeah, people are going to be out there criticizing your ministry no matter what you do. Even Jesus got trouble. You know, he had the disciples kerfuffle there was the discussion about to go or not to go, he’s sleeping, he’s not sleeping. But the two sisters just really, really get me. And I emphasize that in the reading because the sisters ask the exact same question. And I don’t think that’s just a cut-and-paste error because they didn’t have that back then, they didn’t just copy the question from one sister to another without updating it.

But they asked the exact same question. “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” Maybe not a question. More an accusation. And he had two totally different answers, responses to them. Not so much an answer. I mean, Martha comes out, and I guess maybe they’re alone together? Maybe ran out.

I’m thinking disciples, they’re always hanging around, I don’t know if they’re there. But not a crowd, anyway. Socially distant. They had this little theological discussion about Christ and the last days and the dead coming up and, you know, Christ is Lord, and do you believe this, and the faith statement. All in all a very, good seminary quiz answer about what you do when somebody has a crisis of faith.

That’s fine. You know, maybe that’s okay for you. You know, maybe that is a ministry to you. And I’m thinking it was a ministry to Martha, to hear about the faith statement and what we believe and the greatness that everything will even out in the great beyond, and by and by everything will make sense. God works all things for good, and we’ll all be together in heaven. Maybe that’s okay for you, and maybe even I need that sometimes. But in all the big and little griefs of the life, you know, everywhere from losing a pastor candidate to losing a brother, the idea that, well, you know, God’s going to fix it in the end. Doesn’t help right here and now. At least for me.

Then Mary comes out, and we know Mary has a whole crowd with her. The crowd came to comfort Mary. Did you catch that? They didn’t come to comfort Martha, I guess. Martha’s not the easiest person to warm up to, if you’ve been following her in the scriptures. Maybe there was other times she was really gracious and wonderful and had a lot of friends over. But this time they came to comfort to Mary. Maybe that’s an editing error. But still, they all following Mary out. They didn’t follow Martha out.

So there’s a crowd there. Same question. Lord? Is it a question? I think it’s an accusation. I think it’s a statement. Inside the accusation, the criticism, there’s faith wrapped up in there. It’s like faith wrapped in an accusation and given to him, you know, you can’t really say, well, don’t say that. Well, no, because inside the disappointment, there’s hope: “And if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”

Well, we already know his answer; right? I mean, we had the answer, and it worked for Martha; right? You talk about, yeah, I am the Lord. I bring up all the dead in the end of the time, and all the raising. You believe I’m the Lord and zippy, zowie, you got it done. I got it. I got this. I know this. But it says that Jesus saw her weeping. He saw the crowd. And he began to weep.

Now, that awkward word there, he began to be weeping or whatever that is, that’s a signal. Greek it’s called the aorist tense. They have this little annoying verb tense in Greek that we don’t have in English because we don’t have time to fool around with that stuff. Literally because aorist doesn’t have any time. The aorist verb, it just happened. You know? It’s like when a dish breaks and you ask the kids. They respond: “I don’t know, it just happened.” There’s no time associated with it. There’s no past, present, or future, and there’s no beginning and end. It just happens that in the great time-space continuum there was weeping.

He began to weep. And the crowd, you would think, might have said, what a crappy minister. He should have words of faith and assurance. He should have wonderful things to say, wonderful words of love. He should tell them about the coming raising of the dead, you know, like Martha, which they did not hear. You would think they’d be upset with him for weeping, of all things. Certainly he will never be the President if he cries in public.

But they said, “See how much He loved them.” See how much He loved them.

I know it’s hard for you to believe, but when I was in the ministry, a lot of people couldn’t believe I was a minister. I know it’s hard to believe. In fact, some of them would come up and say, “You don’t act like a minister.” And sometimes that was a compliment, and sometimes it was an accusation. It was kind of hard to tell sometimes where on the spectrum the comment was supposed to land. But “You don’t act like a minister” I got quite a bit. And I also have a book I’m writing, and I know it’ll be published someday, it’s called “Reverend Righteous Snappy Answer to Stupid Religious Questions.” I sure Mad Magazine will come back to publish it.

One of SRQ Stupid Religious Questions is this one: “You don’t act like a minister.” And my response is that is because I’m not acting. I am a minister. Deal with it. This is what a minister looks like. And, you know, I’m sure that women ministers get it more than than I do. Of course, the Christy thing didn’t help at all. But that’s what’s going on here.

You know, when someone dies, or when hopes die – I was really hoping for (the candidate) to come here. I was so excited. I want to know why. Why didn’t that happen? As if, if I knew, it’d be okay. But in reality, if I knew why, I’d still be upset. I’d still be disappointed. Even if she had the absolute most greatest reason in all the world. Maybe she’s engaged to be married, and her husband-to-be doesn’t want to move. That would be probably the best. I don’t know. So I would still be upset.

So why do I want to know why? It’s not going to help me. It’s just going to lead to more questions and problems and upsetness and why do I want to know why? It’s the first temptation; isn’t it? In the Garden of Eden, God said, “Don’t go to that tree. Stay away from that tree.” What do we do? “Why?” And then the snake picks up on that. And the snake says: “Psst. You’ll know why if you eat out of the tree. You’ll be like God. You’ll know good and evil. You’ll know all the whys. Go ahead, eat up there.” Oh, my gosh. That sounds great to us. We want to know why. We eat up. And then the troubles begin. Why?

1995. This is kind of a retrospect of my life, but that’s okay. You’re stuck with me. Ha. 1995 I decided to quit understanding computers. I remember the day. Up to then, from 1976 to 1995, I understood computers. I can understand why things work. I could take them out. I was getting into assembly language. Oh, my gosh. I knew it all. I knew those guys.

And when Win95 came out, especially on this day, when it changed the clock by itself without me, even though I set it the night before, I was so proud. The computer set daylight savings time, so I was an hour off even though I reset the clock. I realized I would never understand computers again. I wouldn’t know why. And I decided to focus on how. How, without knowing why, how can I work with them? How can I get them to do as I do? How can I help other people to get to do with them what I do? How do I live with computers that I do not understand?

And that’s where we’re at. We don’t like to be there. And Jesus, even in the why question about why did Lazarus die, why did – he wasn’t too much on the why. But even in that thing he talked, he talked about not why, but who? The why looks back; doesn’t it? Looks back to the past about things were going and lived back there and cause and effect and all that, and you get all wound up in craziness. And like I said, it doesn’t help here and now. The question is, who is God, and who are we in response to that? How are we going to live then?

The second encounter, with that accusation, that faithful accusation of, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. What kind of God is it that lets someone die? The God that weeps. The God that began to weep, and we don’t know if the weeping ever ends. A God that is always emotionally with us in our sorrow and grief and sadness.

When folks say, “Where was God when this terrible thing happened?,” that God was there feeling every bit of the pain and sadness and hurt and fear and crying along with us. And if we’re good, like the crowd back then, we’ll say, “See how much God loves us.” Not that he fixes stuff, not that he explains things to us, not that he makes all things right in the great by and by. But he loves us enough to weep with us at the sorrows and the unfairness and the evil and the tragedies and the challenges of this life.

So faith, the life of faith, the life of the church, the life of a minister, is not so much about finding out why, or explaining whys. You can’t do it. Hey, I can’t do it. For a 20-year-old computer I can’t tell you why it does things. People ask me that all the time. And I just say “Microsoft.” And that usually is enough. But the question is, for the faithful, work and life today is, given that we have a God who loves us so much to weep along with our tears, how do we live? What do we do? How are we with other people? How do we find to live? And that is a future thing, not a past thing with why why why, but how how how. And it all springs from who in the middle. Who are we as a people, who do we worship as God, will tell us how we live.

We live as a people that are compassionate. We live as a people that seek justice. We live as a people that gets angry when things aren’t the way they should. We live as a people that try to fix wrong. We live as a people that try to give sight to the blind, to free the oppressed, that deliver release to the captives. We’re those kind of people. We’re not saying, well, why are they blind? Why are they captive? Why are they oppressed? Why does God love all that? That’s only important if it figures us how to fix it. How to be faithful in a place we don’t know all the whys and the causes. And yeah, sometimes is weeping with those that weep.

Everytime you hear “politically correct” — consider subsituting “compassionate”

Disturbing trend in our country today. And I find it all summed up in the politically correct, which is used to dismiss any kind of concern or compassion for those that are not like us, or doesn’t experience what we experience. Oh, well, their concerns, that’s just being politically correct. You know, every time you hear that you can substitute the word “compassion,” and it works. Oh, that’s just being compassionate. We are the compassionate ones. Because we follow God, who is compassionate, who has passion with us, who is God with us in our sorrow and heartache. We are those kind of people.

You ever heard of imposter syndrome? Ever hear of that? Yeah, where you think you don’t deserve where you are, what you do, and how you are? And you think everybody’s going to find out one day I’m a fraud? It’s like that dream that you have where you think you’re in school, and you don’t have any of your homework done; and by the way, you’re naked, too. Agh. You know, that kind of dream. Everybody’s had that. Yeah, that one. That fraud, that imposter syndrome, I had that a lot, you know, as a minister because, well, the constant “You don’t act like a minister” didn’t help.

But I had a lot of that as a minister, and I realized how imperfect I was. I mean, I was my worst critic, still am, about how I’m not doing everything that’s right and good and should. And I was talking to my counselor about that. And I was talking about there’s at least two women that admit that I was a major part of why they became a minister. I got one on video, so I brought receipts.

A little deeper than the video clip, we talked a little bit about why I was a good model for entering ministry. Both pointed out to me privately that it wasn’t because I was perfect that they became a minister. Because both of them said, and this is slightly disturbing, both of them said – and these are different states, you know, different churches. Both of them said, “Well, I looked up, and I saw Christy. And I thought, well, if he could be a minister, I could be a minister.” You already felt that. You’re there now. Well, if he could do it, I guess I can do it. I think I may be good. I don’t know.

And she pointed out to me, you know, did you notice that it wasn’t your perfection that brought those women into ministry and to hear the call of God. It wasn’t how perfect you were or your mastery of things, but it was exactly your imperfections, your sincerity and honesty about your limitations and how you didn’t have all the answers, that let them hear the call of God. Wow, earned their money that week, huh, yeah, the big one. Here’s what one says.

And she went on – the second Sunday we were there was 9/11 in her church. And she asked me – I didn’t know who she was. Week 2, I didn’t know anybody. She comes up, she goes, “Are you going to speak about 9/11 in the children’s message?” I go, “Yeah, I’m going to talk to the kids about it.” “I’m not having my kids in church, then.” Off she goes. I go, well, hello to you. You know.

And we went from that, over the year, the 18 months I was there as interim, that a year from then her and I led a remembrance service with communion and multimedia for the community that night for 9/11. And then she went on from that to go to seminary, become a minister, get a church, and become the editor of Presbyterians Today, the PC(USA) magazine. And here’s what she said as I left that church.

“On a more personal level, I find that you bring an honest vitality to the faith that I haven’t experienced before. You make it something to live rather than something to ponder from the pew. More importantly, you managed to do it without overwhelming earnestness, sappy sentimentality, or condescending judgment. Your approach feels fresh, straightforward, and comfortable. I will miss that.”

And I really treasure that, obviously. Something to live, and not something to ponder from the pew. Something to figure out how to be faithful instead of struggling with the whys and the wherefores. That’s faith. That’s what we’re called to do.

Amen.

Jesus Wept

Coronavirus cancellations and precautions are changing plans in churches and communities.

Stay home. Stay well.

A Holiday Blessing by Kaitlin B Curtice

I really liked this blessing by Kaitlin B Curtice, storyteller. poet. kaitlincurtice.com I’ve used it a various dinners and gatherings, giving her thanks and credit. From her twitter account:  @KaitlinCurtice 

A Holiday Blessing
  

 by Kaitlin B Curtice

May our white fragility dissipate
     into humble listening and learning;
May our faithful solidarity
     bloom like wildflowers in a dry spell;
May truth-telling come as a kind invitation to a better life;
May a prophetic vision of wholeness guide us home;
May we hold space where we did not know we could;
May our feasting always be full of flavor and full of love;
May our grief lead us to community where it wasn’t before;
May patriotic nostalgia be replaced with a future for all;
May family feuds remind us that family is chosen and made;
May Mystery beckon us to the quiet places of sacred belonging;
May our path be always together, onward, kinship leading us;
May the boundaries created by hate - Kaitlin B Curtice
      evaporate in the light a new day.

Iw, amen.

Native: Identity, Belonging, and Rediscovering God Paperback – May 5, 2020 by Kaitlin B. Curtice (Author)

 

The holidays are an opportunity to ask who we were and who we are, to be honest, but to be gentle. We lean into ourselves, breathe, and take care.

- Kaitlincurtice.com

Kindness Sunday

Dr. François S. Clemmons [CC BY-SA 4.0]

Presbyterian Media Mission (presbymediamission.org) has commionessed a liturgy for a Kindness Sunday in celebration of the new film “A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood”  in theaters this month starring Tom Hanks portraying our favorite neighbor Mister “Fred” Rogers.  Click here for a review of the movie…

Kindness Sunday Liturgy (Word format)

My sermon on Kindness from Ruth 2:4-13

If kindness had a patron saint in would be Mister Rogers. He invited you to be his neighbor in his neighborhood where an eclectic mix of puppets and people, regular and special guests came to be welcomed by Mister Rogers quiet voice and gentle conversation.

Do not confuse nice with kind. Nice is ignoring trouble, kind is sharing troubles. When the one the set’s goldfish died he didn’t replace it off camera…because death isn’t nice…he built a show around sadness and death. Even burying the fish on the set with a headstone and talking about the death of his pet dog Misty when he was a child. Instead of covering death up with niceness and surround it with kindness.

In 1969, a year after the assignation of Martin Luther King, Jr. segregation was illegal but popular. Mr. Rogers was a Presbyterian Minister and could have preached about the subject. As Tom Brokaw of NBC Nightly News once said “Mister Rogers was an ordained minister, but he never talked about God on his program. He didn’t need to.”

Instead Fred was kind. He noticed that Officer Gibbons, the singing African=American police officer was hot and tired and invited him to join him in soaking his feet in a kiddie pool on set. When Officer Gibbons said he didn’t have a towel Fred said he could share his. They shared a pool and a towel together. Kindness. Fred made room for a black man in his pool and with his towel. He didn’t need to talk about God.

Years later, on his last appearance on the show, Fred and Francois Clemmons reenacted their pool moment and this time…Fred dried Francois feet. Francois said later: “I a black gay man and Fred washed my feet.” It is you I like, exactly who you are.

Ruth was a poor immigrant. No job, no family support, no proof of health care, and supporting her widowed Mother-in-law who had renamed herself “Bitter”. Yikes. Boaz was kind, following the kindness set out in Deuteronomy and Leviticus 23:22, not to take everything from the field, but to leave gleanings for the poor, the widow, the orphan. Boaz made room for her among the workers, provided for her physical and food security.

Do we have a Boaz society today? Do we share with others or do we cheer on those who take it all? Is there room for all in the neighborhood or are we retreating to gated communities with private security forces and insurance paid firefighters serving only those who can pay? Since that last pool party on Mr Rogers the top 1% has done very well, doubling their income, but the poverty rate has remained steady. Productivity has increased but for those being productive income has not followed. Now the top 1/10 of 1% has 188 times the wealth of the lower 90% income. We can build a better neighborhood where there is room for all in the pool of wealth that we’ve created.

Las Vegas has made public camping and sleeping in public illegal. It isn’t nice to see tents and sleeping folks in sidewalks and doorways. Make it nice again by arresting and rousting folks experiencing homelessness to go somewhere where nice people can’t see them.

WWMRD? What would Mr. Rogers do? He would be kind not just nice. For the last three years six churches in Carson City have taken a month each hosting “Night Off the Streets” where folks can have a safe warm place in a church building from 9 PM to 6:30 AM. About 30 people a night to get out of the weather and sleep in the host church. Since the program began, no person has died of exposure sleeping in the open in Carson City. Instead they have been welcomed and shelter by kind people.

Who has been a Boaz to you? Who has been your Mr. Rogers? Who has been kind in your life making room for you in their neighborhood? In commencement addresses and at the Academy Awards in 1997, Fred Rogers gave folks a gift I want to pass on to you. No one got to where they are today without kind people who loved and believed in us, gave us a chance, made room for us. Like Fred used to do, I would like to take 1 minute and give it to you to remember those in your life who have been kind to you. Some might be here with you, some might be in heaven, lets pause and remember the kindness in our lives. I’ll keep the time….

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.

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Time. Think about how happy and proud the folks you remembered would be that you remembered them and their kindness.

I hope you can be kind to others as well. Inviting folks into your neighborhood.

Dying in a Ditch...And Then It Gets Worse

 Image by Shift and Sheriff from Pixabay

What if the hated worthless one could save your life?

Dying in A Ditch
a sermon by Rev. J. Christy Ramsey

Click the title above to download a recording 

Audio from Truckee Lutheran Presbyterian Church, on July 28, 2019
edited from a flawless transcription made by edigitaltranscriptions; all errors are mine. 

Luke 10:25-37

Sermons also available free on iTunes

Ditch the name “Good Samaritan”. It’s not in the Bible. It’s just something we call it, and we’re wrong. It is not the story of the Good Samaritan, at least for today. It is the story of Ditch Man. That makes it our story, because that is where Jesus needs us to be to hear the Gospel. We need to be in the ditch beside the man who asks the question.

Did you notice the switch in the question between the beginning and end of the story? The first question was from the man: “Who is my neighbor?” Then Jesus says a man, about as generic as the Bible gets, so you can put yourself in his place. You, questioner, you are walking, and this happens to you. Not really talking about the qualities of a neighbor…but of you the questioner. The question at the end of the story posed by Jesus was who was a neighbor to the man. You see the switch? From the labeling of others to the personal relationship. We love to do the opposite. Oh, we love to do that. We love to take what is personal to us and put it out there as a generic label of other things and other people so we could say neighbor yes/no and judge others or even ourselves by external actions and appearances…never pausing to consider what it means to our soul and spirit when someone unexpected is a neighbor to us.

Now, in technical terms, if you go to seminary, you learn that this is where you cross from preaching to meddling. Preaching to meddling. Meddling is about getting into my soul and spirit instead of Preaching about morality for other people, how they should act, so I can judge them. The question isn’t find generic neighbor and put a sticker on them. It is about who do you accept as your neighbor. Not the other’s behavior but your own bias. YIKES Meddling alert!

You see, us Christians especially, us wonderful, fairly well off, First World Christians, we love to take these Bible stories of personal transformation and spiritual challenge and make it into some kind of morality play. We do it all the time. We say this is the way you should act. Here’s the rules for nice people in nice places. This is what we do best. We want to make, measure and mark Good Samaritans.

That’s not what Jesus wants for us. Jesus is telling us about everyman and everywoman in the ditch. And that’s where we need to be, in a ditch. Stay in the ditch where Jesus puts us. Can you imagine? You’re having a bad day. You are going from Jerusalem to Jericho, not an easy trip, lot of low hills, lot of desert, not a good time, not a good trip. And it is the way to say, if you want to say “bad neighborhood,” you wouldn’t say “infested.” You wouldn’t say “Baltimore.” You wouldn’t say that. You would say as bad as “Jericho Road”. When folks heard on the road to Jericho, people were bracing themselves – that is a tough road. And ditch man gets robbed, beaten up and left for dead. And people walk by, and they go, yeah, that’s how it happens. I could get in trouble for helping the foreigners, they’re bad hombres, should have come in the country the right way. I wouldn’t do that, he’s on his own. You know it’s a bad part of the country, it happens, should have stay in their own country.

Just when the audience knows this is the low point, Jesus kicks it up a notch, “And then the Samaritan comes.” And everybody gasps, “Of all the things, I thought we were at the worst part of the story passed us. But now that Samaritan comes.” The Samaritan was a half-breed. He was a half-breed traitor. He was a half-breed traitorous blasphemer. Wrong Race, Wrong Religion, Wrong Region. He didn’t do anything right. A collaborator with the enemy, probably a drug mule. They were they did worship all wrong, knelt when they should stand. Horrible sub-humans! You did not set foot in Samaria. You went around Samaria. If you touched Samarian sand, you made sure to take it off your feet because it was the original “S”-hole country.

So get in the ditch. Imagine you’re in the ditch. You’ve been beaten up. You’re dying. You’re robbed. You’re naked. And your worst enemy comes down the road. What do you do? Maybe you crawl a little bit further down in the ditch, saying, “Oh, I don’t want THAT GUY to see me like this. He’s probably going to kick me again.” How can your day get worse than to have all this happen to you, and then be dependent, not on the help of strangers, that might be okay, but on the help of your worst enemy? The person you don’t want to be around, that doesn’t want to be around you. You totally agree on that, and that’s all you agree on. Your worst enemy. I don’t know, for some of you, maybe they’re wearing a MAGA hat. Some of you, maybe they have an Antifa shirt on, huh? Maybe they don’t speak English…maybe it is your EX! Whatever riles you up, that’s what they are.

And they’re coming down the road, and you’re lying in the ditch. I can almost imagine the Good Samaritan coming over to help. The guy dying, he goes, “No, no, get away. I’m okay. I’m all right. I’ll be fine. It’s just a flesh wound.” Who comes to help changes how much I help I’ll accept. The one you hated helps you. That is a bigger soul struggle than a sermon on the five steps to being a good neighbor. Can you let someone that you hate help you? Can you see the hated other, the thing, the enemy, the traitor, the one we don’t need, the one that should go back where they came from. If you can talk, worship, clothe, salute right like us: Go back to your own place, help them not me. What are you doing here in decent people land? That one. Someone you need for your very life. Someone you need the help of right now. Can you be in that ditch of decision?

You see, Jesus wants us in the ditch so that we are faced with that question. Soon as you jump out that ditch and start walking along, whether you’re the priest or the Levite, the religious person or the Good Samaritan, soon as you get out of the ditch, you’re out of the story that Jesus wants you in. Jesus wants you in that ditch. Jesus wants you in that ditch and seeing your hated enemy coming by. And he wants you right there. And he wants you to answer the question, who do I allow to be neighbor? Who do I recognize as my neighbor?

Well, he didn’t used to be my neighbor, but I might reconsider now. It’s not just giving a dollar on the street to the guy who needs the help. It’s not giving a gold coin in the Salvation Army kettle at Christmastime. It’s not even going up and down mountain roads and picking up tourists that just can’t believe that the road is closed, like my daughter, God bless her. She was the one got picked up, not the truck. You see the other, the foreign one, the hated one is necessary for your survival. Not tolerated. Not put up with. Not diversity. But someone I need for my very survival.

Now, I don’t want to tell you you shouldn’t help the poor. Or that you shouldn’t be a neighbor. Spoiler alert, yeah, you should. But we’re bigger. We’re better. We’re further than that. I mean, that’s Mr. Rogers, a Presbyterian minister, by the way. But I expect more of you, just like Jesus does. He expects you to be in the ditch and to consider who your neighbor is from the ditch, not the safety and superiority of the road. Who do I discount? Overlook? Discard? See as worthless? See as a drag on society? See as a pain in my side? See as someone I don’t need, someone I’d be better off without? Who can I see from the ditch that is necessary for my life to continue?

Two out of five Fortune 500 companies, 45 percent of Fortune 500 companies were founded either by immigrants or children of immigrants. If we had banned them, if we went to zero immigration level, as some would like, we would still be an okay country, I suppose. But 45 percent of our Fortune 500 companies would not be there. Almost half would be gone. 3.2 million immigrants run their own business here and employ vastly disproportionate amounts of people. We would be okay…but not great. Are they the enemy? Are they the foreigner? Are they an invader? Should they go back where they came from? Or do we need them to get us out of the ditch? Jesus wants to know.

Now, Jesus leaves us with a question. I ain’t going to tell you about how to be a good neighbor or look over there a neighbor acting person. He asked me the question of the ditch to me inside of me. Who is a neighbor to the guy in the ditch? And you can just hear the teeth clenched response. “I suppose it was the Samaritan.” He got it. No more questions wanting to justify himself as neighbor labeling pro. Can you hear his muttering? “Jesus, I’m never going to ask him another question. I could have quit when I was ahead, he said I had eternal life! But no, I just had to go on to justify myself.

I don’t know who makes you clench your teeth when if you have to admit you are related to them and NEED THEM TO LIVE. That’s your neighbor, thank you Jesus.

So I got installed in the first church I served for a time in a small, small town. Well, I guess compared to Truckee it wasn’t small. It was an average size town. It had one, one, count them, one hotel. One. The Rosedale. One hotel. That was it. You either stayed there, or you just kept driving. There was no bed and breakfast. There was no Airbnb. There was nothing like that. It was Rosedale or on the road you go for at least another hour.

Well, a couple came up from – God bless them, Alice and Tom Derson, they drove hundreds of miles to come to my installation – from my home church where I grew up. They didn’t tell me they were coming. They just wanted to surprise me. They came and stayed at the Rosedale Motel. Just as they were checking into the only itty-bitty hotel in this itty-bitty town, far away from where they live, comes roaring up two dozen motorcycles. It was thunder on the plain. This amazingly clean-cut motorcycle gang gets off their bikes, come swarming in the hotel, and buys up every room there. And they all had guns. Every. One. Of. them. This was before open carry was a fashion statement.

Well Alice came to my installation with barely opened eyes. She did not get one wink of sleep because she was surrounded by armed motorcycle gang. Trapped. There was nowhere to go. She was frightened for their lives. Any minute they were going to start carousing and break down their door. What could she do far from home and unarmed? She stayed up all night, and her husband with her.

They checked out the next morning, bleary-eyed. Nothing had happened. The bikers were gone. She looks at the clerk and asks, “What was that motorcycle gang that was here last night?” And the hotel clerk says, “Who, them? Those were the Association of Motorcycle Police. They were on their way to the conference in South Bend.”

Telling me this, Alice looked me in the eye and testified, “Last night I was the safest I have ever been in my entire life, and I spent my whole night in terror and fear.” That’s some ditch talking there.

The people that you hate, don’t want you in the ditch, the people that don’t belong here, the people that you KNOW are against you, guess what, you need to see them as neighbor, your eternal sould needs to see them as neighbor. Not just they’re allowed to be here, if they behave and are grateful. It isn’t about how good you are at labeling them, You need them to live. We need them to live. Don’t stay hidden in your hotel room in terror. Helps all around, you’re the safest you’ve ever been.

Amen.

Rosedale Motel, Rochester, Indiana

Enclosure