January 26 2025 The Ocean we are Swimming In

Lisa Wiens Heinsohn

The Ocean We are Swimming In

Homily for St. John’s Episcopal Church by

Lisa Wiens Heinsohn given January 26, 2025

Luke 4:14-21

 

This has been quite a week. The center of power shifted from one administration to another, and new policies were put into motion that can feel like a change in the very foundation of who and what we are as a nation. And in the midst of all this and its impact and our big feelings about them, here we are, gathered as we always do, a heartbeat that sounds over and over again for life and love and connection and inspiration. We are grounded in the overwhelming, unconditional love of God that knows no limits, no bounds, that is the oldest and strongest force on earth.

 

The gospel reading for today is one of my favorite scriptures. It describes Jesus at the very beginning of his public ministry. No one knows who he is. He hasn’t done any teachings or healings or miracles or anything. And then in our gospel reading for today, he goes to the synagogue in his hometown to make his manifesto, his mission statement—to proclaim his identity and purpose. Listen again to what he says, which is a reading from the prophet Isaiah:

 

The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,

because he has anointed me
to bring good news to the poor.

He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives
and recovery of sight to the blind,
to let the oppressed go free,

to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.

 

Here’s the amazing thing. Jesus spoke these words two thousand years ago. And, he was quoting scripture that was already very old, that had been written centuries before his time. For thousands of years these words have sounded through Jewish and Christian faith, shattering all the limits we want to put on them, insisting that what is important is good news, healing, release, liberation, grace. This is the manifesto of Christ. No political party wrote it. No speech writer decided it would be a good idea for a rally or an administration. These are not political words foisted inappropriately into a spiritual arena. They were and are the meaning of our faith, spoken by Jesus Christ.

 

Mercy. Justice. Healing. Liberation. Grace. Care for the vulnerable. This is the reason we gather: to learn these values, this way of life, this inner attitude and energy of healing. To embody it in our community. To share it with our neighbors. To refuse to give in to despair or hatred or falsehood. We have our marching orders, and they have not changed for three thousand years.

 

Our marching orders have not changed, but the circumstances of the world do change. Who are the oppressed, the captive, the blind, the poor today? Two of the most vulnerable groups include the ones Bishop Budde mentioned in her sermon at Washington National Cathedral on Tuesday. If you haven’t seen it, I highly recommend it. With Mariann, I am particularly concerned for our trans and non-binary friends, and for our immigrant friends whose current status is unresolved. I am concerned too for those who are blind, who cannot see the world clearly, whose fear and hatred are manifesting in policies that create so much suffering. I am proud of our church for living these values in real and active ways, caring for immigrants at Casa Maria and in other ways, tending an open and affirming community here where LGBTQ people are welcome as the beautiful expression of God’s creative artistry that they are.

 

I said in my Rector’s Reflection that there is a choice in front of us right now: contempt, or love. Everything we do or say or think comes from an inner orientation, an inner energy and perspective. The word love is so overused it’s hard to remember what it actually is. First of all, love is not the same thing as being nice. It’s far stronger than that. Unconditional love is the immense healing power of compassion that can see the divine light in others no matter what happens, that can speak the truth to power without demonizing or defending or patronizing. The Greek word for this kind of love is agape. Dr. Martin Luther King said that agape love is the basis of non-violent resistance to oppression. Love is what empowers us to make sacrifices for the greater good.

 

Contempt, on the other hand, may seem like a mild and minor thing, but to me it seems to be the root poison that infects our national division and provides the justification for policies based on fear and hatred and anger. Contempt is a kind of cancer that destroys the person who carries it. If you’ve ever felt contempt in your marriage or your family, you know how toxic and corrosive it can be, whether you are giving it or receiving it, whether it’s justified or not. Contempt makes us hear things people didn’t say and see things that aren’t there. Just consider how so many people saw hatred or pride or inappropriateness in Mariann’s sermon on Tuesday. Did they watch the same sermon I did? I heard her tone as loving and humble, and she spoke about values. She spoke about mercy. She spoke about the very things Jesus proclaimed in today’s reading. Like I said, contempt is a cancer that makes us see things that aren’t there. And my friends, if we are honest, we are sometimes as guilty of contempt as those we disagree with, which means we may not always see clearly either. Contempt makes compassion impossible. And above all it prevents us from seeing the light, the image of God, in every human being. Our baptismal covenant requires us to seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbors as ourselves. It is impossible to do this through the blinding fog of contempt.

 

Love on the other hand opens our eyes to see the truest self of the Other. You also know it when someone sees you with generosity, as a true equal, when someone is actually willing to listen to you and even learn from you. You know it when people assume your best intentions. It’s a balm for the soul. It opens doors that had been shut and locked. It lowers your shoulders and your angst and your blood pressure.  It makes it possible to flourish, to offer your unique gifts in this world.

 

It is so important right now to say what we are for, the positive vision we are willing to devote our lives to. Jesus describes this vision in his manifesto in today’s gospel reading. It is about loving and caring for the vulnerable. Ending systems of oppression so that the captives can go free. Healing and not hating those who are blinded by contempt.

 

Now lest you think I’m being too pie-in-the-sky naïve about all this, I want you to know that St. John’s has gotten some hate email and phone calls this week after Bishop Budde’s sermon because she used to be Rector here. Those were hard to hear and read. To be clear there were no threats, just hateful comments, but some were really tough. And you know what? Can you imagine living in a world where watching Mariann’s gentle sermon would make you feel harmed? How horrible a world must that be? While that doesn’t make the hateful calls OK, it does mean their contempt doesn’t need to find anywhere to land in us. I pray healing and relief for them. I pray they can see what is really true. I know what it feels like to be so mad you can’t see straight. And we are no better than anyone else. Anything anyone is capable of, we are capable of too. That is why we must steep ourselves in light, in love, in healing, in the manifesto of Jesus—being who we are, standing strong—that is the only real protection. We are not victims. We are choosing to do something real that matters, and which may occasionally have a cost. It makes me proud to be in this church.

 

And whatever small amount of hatred directed our way can’t be compared to the actual risk being experienced by people whose immigration status is unresolved, whose children are terrified their parents will be deported without warning or safety net for them. It can’t be compared to the rights of trans people that are already compromised. It can’t be compared to the end of government funding for DEI programs in so many industries which jeopardizes opportunities for many. So let’s get to the nitty gritty. How in the world do we come from a place of agape love and not contempt, when there is so much to be angry about?

 

I can only tell you what helps me. Each of you have your own connection with God and I know and trust you can find your own way. For me, I lean on the power of transmutation. Our scriptures tell the story of the Holy Spirit descending on the disciples at Pentecost as flames of fire. Fire changes things. Wood burns to smoke and ash. Stone melts and changes shape. Water boils and becomes steam. That transmuting fire is the Holy Spirit granting us compassion. You can have compassion for someone who is really sick if you’ve been in touch with the ways you yourself have been sick. I’ve preached before about how I’ve struggled with anger my whole adult life. Being honest about that and compassionate with myself about it, and sad about the harm I know I’ve done to people I love because of anger, makes me feel some compassion for the people who have called and said such awful things to us. They are really angry. They can’t see straight. They believe what they are saying even if it is totally distorted. And beneath their anger, beneath their sickness, there is a hurt in them they are trying to protect. And even beneath that hurt, they were born full of light, they are made of light. I know it. I see it. If we can see each others’ suffering, and see each others’ light, compassion can be born. And compassion transmutes anger into love. And the power of love makes anything at all possible.

 

If thinking about transmuting fire doesn’t work for you, or you just can’t relate to people who are so sick, then I can offer this. Howard Thurman, the great pastor and mystic who inspired Martin Luther King, wrote a book called Jesus and the Disinherited, which among others things was about how he could forgive racists for the awful violence they inflicted upon him and his people. It is one of the greatest books I have ever read, and it has been a great help to me. First, he said, he can forgive because God forgives us again and again. The love of God embraces us as we are, down to the deepest parts of our shadow and mistakes we hope no one will ever know about. Second, he can forgive because no one can be reduced to the worst thing they have ever done. Third, because the evildoer does not go unpunished. Life provides its own consequence.[1]

 

It may be that because of the intensity of our time when so much hatred exists, when democracy itself seems at risk, then the opposite is also true. Greatly disturbing times require great and powerful healing. The true gospel of Jesus, the manifesto of Christ, is a living energy that can empower us to rise to the occasion in love. As strong as the hate is out there, love is stronger, and older. None other than you and I ordinary people can learn in our small corners of the world to embody God’s love that is strong enough to counter the hate, heal the sick, release the captive, give sight to the blind, let the oppressed go free. Each of us has unique gifts to offer in service to this mission. Your gifts are perfect, exactly what this world needs, made by God for this time in history.

 

As sick as this world is, the deeper reality is the love of God, which is the ocean we are swimming in, if only we have eyes to see it. To walk forward in love and not contempt, we can’t go it alone. We need each other. That’s why we are here. Every week, sounding like a heartbeat, our resistance is grounded in divine light and divine love that cannot be overcome, that cannot be put out. Welcome home. You belong, because you are made of light, you are a child of God. Amen.

[1] Howard Thurman, Jesus and the Disinherited (pp. 107-109).

10am Service