Grace to you and peace from God…
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| Early Christian catacombs at the eastern edge of Rome |
When I was in Rome in January, one of the recurring themes for me as we explored the Early Christian sites was how Christianity was literally on the margins of the Roman empire. The catacombs we explored were all literally way out on the edge of the city, often outside the city walls. (And then of course underground.) The immigrant neighborhoods we ambled through on the west side of the great city, Testaccio and Trastevere, were actually across the river, where the poor and the foreigners were pushed to the side. Even the area where we stayed, which felt to me and was now the center of Rome, was actually the far edge of the old city. This was the site of the first public church which was hardly the grand cathedral of San Giovanni that stands there now. The Emperor Constantine put it there to save his own neck. He didn’t centralize Christianity until the end of his life...
My point -- and just some images I’m sharing with you from my recent travels: Christianity started out on the edge.
Then after Constantine, 325 AD, it became the seat and source of power. The Holy Roman Empire, Christendom. It’s really stayed there in the center, like that, until recently. Many of you remember congregations packed the brim, going to your local Christian church wasn’t just faithful it was patriotic, pictures of Presidents kneeling before a cross in prayer, it was much more mainstream.
But Christendom’s is in its final stages, and Christianity in its purest form, I believe, is moving back out to the edges, back to where it started, back underground, and to the margins of our society. Most Americans -- while most profess belief in God -- are not in church, “practicing their religion”, this morning.
There are to many other things to do -- right now [watch], Micah’s baseball practice is starting, and he gets singled out for being a little “church boy”. He’s definitely in the minority. Charity runs, and errands, and Sunday morning coffee and paper, and sleep are all taking priority...right? And so, we’re seeing the tectonic plates shift once again, and we Christians are moving back (or being moved back) to where we started.
I think this is actually good, by the way, getting back to the margins. I think that’s a good place to be. Because that’s where we’re needed, and that’s where Jesus calls us to be. The core of the Christian message gets lost when Christians sits at the center, all cuddled up in the halls of power. We start to make Jesus look like an emperor or a top ranking general, and we miss his radical vulnerability and pursuit and care for the least, the lost and the lonely.
We’re moving back to the edge, where we started: Underground, across the river, across the tracks, across the border. Out to the margins. Thanks be to God.
And that sets the context a little more for this encouraging letter to the Colossians, which we begin to today.
They are receiving a letter from Paul, it says. Some scholars think this was Paul himself writing. Other’s argue that it was a disciple of Paul’s, which -- we have to understand -- was not plagiarism back then but a way of showing honor and respect for your teacher...
(By the way, interesting to think about: if you were to write an encouraging, maybe instructive, letter to a Christian community in trouble, which mentor or great teacher of yours might you pen under?)
Anyway, the Colossians (central Turkey) -- once again out on the edge of the Roman Empire -- the Colossians have received this letter with Paul’s name on it, and it is filled with words of thanksgiving for their faithfulness, words of encouragement in the struggles and challenges that they face, and finally a word of Gospel.
This is a letter for us today, sisters and brothers in Christ! It’s not just for them. This is timeless praise and encouragement, and we can receive it too!
First the author says thank you. And I hope you can accept a word of thanksgiving for all you do:
Thank you for hanging in there, friends. After some years of decline in our church body, and in our religion in general, you’ve stuck it out. You’ve remained part of the church universal your faithfulness does not go unnoticed. It’s good to hear a word of thanks, isn’t it? And this thanks is for us too. Thank you for your hope, your joy, your generosity, your participation in the saving works of God, and especially your giving witness to Christ’s love in the world. These are the fruits that we bear, as a result of “being in Christ.”
We employ the language of being “clothed with Christ” in our baptism. But its even more than that. We ingest Christ, we eat Jesus in the Holy Supper. Christ isn’t just resting gently on our skin like a nice garment, Christ is in our bones, deeply enfleshed.
“Being in Christ” is a recurring theme in Colossians. And I hope you hear it too. You’re not just some dirty rotten sinner, that God comes to rescue. [slowly] You are the very body of Christ. (That’s why we reverence you at the beginning of the service.)
You might be the only Jesus someone out there ever sees.
This is all being acknowledged in this intro to the Colossians. And it feels good to just state what’s often rarely stated, but most certainly true: that I see the face of Christ in you.
Then the encouragement: You’re constantly in our prayers. May the strength of God be upon you to endure whatever comes your way -- with patience and joyful thanksgiving.
Man, that’s timely as we face some exciting and perhaps challenging times here at SVLC. How might we move through these upcoming months of construction and temporary relocation on Sunday mornings with “patience and joyful thanksgiving”? [pause] This is a letter for us today.
And finally the Gospel 1-2 punch: “God has rescued us from the power of darkness” -- gotta be very careful here. Darkness is a metaphor. In yet another season of racism and crimes and arguments about police brutality and white privilege, in a season where there has to be protest signs and movements calling our attention to the fact that “Black Lives Matter”, in all this destructive dualism -- this side or that, the police side or the “Black Lives Matter” side, the liberal side or the conservative side (isn’t this awful?) -- we have to be careful with language about “God rescuing us from the power of darkness.” Darkness can also be a metaphor for beauty, for rest, for empowerment, and for new life, right? Think of those dark catacombs, the dark tomb of Jesus resurrection.
But here it’s not: “God has rescued us from the power of darkness -- [I’d say ‘from the place where God is not’] -- and transferred us into the kingdom of his beloved Son, in whom we have redemption and forgiveness of sins. Ah, there it is. The Gospel, in Christ, having been transferred in to -- not an earthly empire, not an earthly monarchy or even an earthly democracy -- having been rescued and transferred through baptism into the mystery of Christ’s realm, we have redemption, salvation, and the forgiveness of sins.
Sisters and brothers in Christ, you are forgiven. I hope you can receive that along with the thanks that is offered to you. We are invited to open our hands this morning, and receive God’s forgiveness, Christ’s pardon -- for all the horrible (and even the not-so-horrible) things we’ve done. God has transferred you, God has brought you over, to live in the joy of your Savior, who is out on the edge, feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, and welcoming the stranger. This is the place we belong -- rescued and commissioned outward. Thanks be to God. AMEN.
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