Think on These Things
Sermon delivered March 5, 2017
Peace and Justice Sabbath
Wesley United Methodist Church
Rabbi Alan S. Cook
Rabbi, Sinai Temple; Chair, Interfaith Alliance of Champaign
County
It
is truly an honor to be with you today and to share in worship as we think
about peace and justice. The current
climate in our country, exacerbated by an extremely contentious election and
vitriolic rhetoric that has not diminished since, would have us believe that
the sole safe course of action would be to isolate ourselves and only seek
interactions with those who are exactly the same as we are. I am glad to have the opportunity to reach
beyond the pulpit of my own congregation, for I believe that the key to peace
in these troubled times is engagement with others. The educator Vivian Gussin Paley, one of the
first people to teach in a racially integrated kindergarten class, wrote in her
book White Teacher, “Homogeneity is
fine in a bottle of milk, but it has no place in a classroom.” I would argue that it also has no place in a
society that desires harmony, for only in celebrating diversity; by
appreciating others who differ from us in race, religious expression, gender
identity, socio-economic status, and so forth, can we achieve understanding.
It
feels particularly good to be here on a Methodist pulpit today. I owe my education, in no small part, to the
Methodist church, for it was in 1851 that John Evans and other Methodist
leaders established the school that would become my alma mater, Northwestern University.
I
have fond memories of my time at Northwestern.
During my four years there, I am sure that I encountered the university
logo and its motto hundreds of times. It
was emblazoned on the pennant that hung on the wall of my dorm room, it graced
t-shirts and sweatshirts, and could be found in some form on most university
buildings. But because I never formally
studied Latin, I managed to spend four years in Evanston without ever knowing
the meaning of quaecumque sunt vera.
I found out at graduation.
The citation,
which we read as one of our scriptural recitations this morning, comes from the
fourth chapter of Philippians, and, in full, proclaims: “whatsoever things are
true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever
things are pure, whatsoever things are beautiful, whatsoever things are of good
report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these
things.”
The
Epistle to the Philippians is ascribed to Paul (and Timothy) and is dated to
around the year 60 of the Common Era.
Paul sends encouragement to the Church at Philippi, one of the first
churches established in Europe. So, in
the context of the letter, those true, honest, just, and pure things that
readers are asked to contemplate are undoubtedly meant to be those things that can
be found if one embraces the teachings of Jesus and the early church. The founders of Northwestern University, good
and devout Methodists, may have seized upon this motto precisely for its
philo-Christian undertones. But I think
that modern-day students, alumni, and faculty of the university learn to find
truth and honesty and these other qualities in their intellectual
pursuits. Moreover, I think that if any
of us contemplate Paul’s language, we will discover that we have many reasons
to “think on these things.”
What
things are true and honest and just? I
think we can find many. The Interfaith
Alliance of Champaign County was founded on the true and honest idea that
people were interested in a way to connect with their neighbors of other faiths
and to build bridges of understanding.
We begin each meeting with a relational component, seeking to learn from
one another about our hopes and dreams, our fears and regrets. We discover that what we have in common far
surpasses that which divides us.
Since
the beginning of the year, bomb threats have been phoned in to more than 80
Jewish Community Centers, Day Schools, and other institutions throughout the
country. Some of these organizations
have been the recipients of repeated threats.
More than 500 gravestones were toppled in acts of vandalism in historic
Jewish cemeteries in St. Louis; Philadelphia; and Rochester, New York. Swastikas and other hateful symbols have been
found on college campuses and other public buildings. Racial epithets were found at some
historically black colleges. At least
four mosques in the country have suffered arson and other vandalism. Srinivas
Kuchibhotla was murdered in a hate crime in Kansas by a gunman who shouted,
“Get out of my country.” A Sikh
gentleman was shot in his own driveway in Kent, Washington by a gunman
professing a similar ideology. And
certainly there have been other incidents and microagressions unfolding
throughout our nation. I am grateful for
the beautiful messages of support that have been sent in recent days to the
synagogue from members of Wesley. I am
buoyed by my friendship with Imam Ousmane Sawadogo of CIMIC, who also sent a
letter expressing solidarity between our local Muslim and Jewish communities.
We have witnessed upsetting and
alarming acts of terrorism. They are
designed to dampen our desire to engage with others out of fear for their
motives. They could drive us to the sort
of dystopian xenophobia that already prevails among a segment of our country’s
population. But what is true and honest
is that so many Americans are refusing to be cowed. We are standing up and embracing one another,
for we understand all too clearly the ominous warnings of Pastor Martin
Niemholler (which exists in numerous iterations): “First
they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a
Socialist. Then
they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out— Because I was not a Trade Unionist. Then
they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out— Because I was not a Jew. Then they came for me—and there was no one
left to speak for me.”
We must stand together. We must speak out. We are all—regardless of religion, race, or
gender—blessed and valued children of God and our lives can only live up to
their true potential for holiness when we lend our hands, our hearts, and our
being to holding up one another.
Now,
what is pure and lovely? Certainly, love
is- not only the intimate love that we share with a spouse or partner, but also
the love that we extend to family and friends.
In these dark times, we are nevertheless hearing incredible stories of
strangers who are giving of themselves to one another, without anticipating any
reciprocation: the Muslim veterans guarding Jewish cemeteries to prevent
further vandalism; the congregations welcoming refugees and pledging to provide
sanctuary if needed; the attorneys doing pro bono work at O’Hare and at
airports across the country to help immigrants navigate the administration’s
travel restrictions. Such acts are pure
and lovely, and I believe they are helping to preserve the best of what America
has to offer. More significantly, as a
person of faith, I think it could fairly be said that the prophets of old—from
Isaiah and Jeremiah to Jesus and Mohammed—all would have engaged in and
encouraged similar acts as a way of ensuring that God’s love would prevail
within our society.
For
the Sabbath that just ended, the Jewish lectionary cycle prescribed the reading
of the portion of scripture known as Terumah,
corresponding to chapters 25-27 of the book of Exodus. It tells of the construction of the
Tabernacle, which served as the focal point of worship as the Israelites made
their way through the wilderness. Chapter
25, verse 8 reads, “Let them make me a sanctuary, so that I may dwell amongst
them.” The Hebrew word for sanctuary, mikdash, is derived from a root meaning
“holiness.” So, in a sense, God is
saying, “When you create an environment of holiness, I shall dwell in your
midst.”
When
we do pure and beautiful acts for one another and with one another, we become
worthy of having God dwell in our midst, and we begin to sense God in the
hearts and hands of our neighbors. Then
we help bring fulfillment to the words of Isaiah, “My house shall be called a
house of prayer for ALL peoples.” In
every place where faithful people commune—synagogues, churches, and mosques,
yes…but also parks, grocery stores, public spaces and private homes—let us
celebrate the prayer and spirit of every individual and build houses, physical
and spiritual, for ALL peoples.
What is of good
report? Well, Paul and Timothy clearly
intended to refer to the Gospels’ testimony about the ministry of Jesus; the
word “gospel,” of course, literally means “good news.” But I think that there is other good news to
reflect upon today. I think we can
celebrate the fact that two millennia after Paul and Timothy, Jews and
Christians can sit here side by side, respectful of each others’ faith, and
share in worship, song, and fellowship.
I think that it is good news that we recognize that we have much to be
thankful for, and that we lift our hearts and souls to the Creator of all, in
gratitude for all of our blessings.
Sometime
around 1875, Rabbi Isaac Mayer Wise had to select a slogan for his institution
of higher education. The Hebrew Union
College, my alma mater for my
professional training, was established to ordain American rabbis who would
appreciate the modern sensibilities of American Jewry. Of all of the inspirational texts in the
Hebrew Bible, Rabbi Wise chose the phrase “Haboker
Or”, from Genesis 44:3, to serve as the college’s motto.
I’ll
let you in on a secret…Nobody is entirely sure what Rabbi Wise had in mind when
he chose those two words. Some have
suggested that he was not a skilled Hebraist, and so, under pressure, he
selected the text at random. But others
see beyond the apparent simplicity of these words to appreciate a deeper
meaning.
Haboker Or means, “In the morning there
was—or ‘there will be’—light.” In its
original context in the Torah, it merely sets the scene: Joseph’s brothers, the
eleven other sons of Jacob, have come to Egypt to procure food during a famine,
not knowing that their brother has risen to a position of prominence. Now they prepare to take their leave as the
next day has dawned.
Perhaps,
however, Wise meant that a new light had dawned for religious expression. His Judaism would be an American Judaism,
adaptive to the changing means of society.
Adherents of this Reform Judaism would not reject God or the traditions
of their ancestors, but simply confront them in a new—and, Wise hoped,
enlightened—manner.
We,
too, may proclaim, “Haboker Or.” Tomorrow there will be light. And if not tomorrow, then the next day. The road may be long, and during this Lenten
season, the liturgy makes us particularly mindful that we may be met with
temptations that would seek to divert us from meeting our intended goal. But let us continue to work toward the light,
and greet that light revitalized by our shared sense of community, by our hope
for the future, by the promise of what this world can become if we all continue
to do our part, working in partnership with God for the betterment of our
society. These are important ideas.
So
if there be any virtue and if there be any praise, then, my friends, let us think
on these things.
