Let freedom ring

This is the text of a sermon preached at Guildford Cathedral at Evensong on 19 August. The texts were Exodus 2:23-3:10 and Hebrews 13:1-15 - both readings speak of the faithfulness of God and the call to liberation. 

Today, the American city of Detroit will be full of song and celebration as people gather to honour the Queen of Soul in her home town. It was here, in the church her father led, that Ree Ree as she was known locally began her singing career and her spiritual life. 

Aretha Franklin: 2009 inauguration - Ron Edmonds/AP

On a crisp, bright day, almost a decade ago, Aretha Franklin stood on the steps of the Capitol. Wrapped in a thick grey coat, paired with a striking hat, her gloved hands held the microphone, and she sang. 

She sang: ‘Let freedom ring’. 

Let it ring, ring ring… let freedom ring.

President Obama closed his eyes; and a vast audience was moved to tears. This was an historic moment but also a prophetic one.  Her voice expressed the hopes and heartbreak of many; it distilled the struggle against segregation and the legacy of slavery.  

Over recent days, tributes have woven together her life story with the impact she had on others. It has been said that she was the voice of America: she toured with Martin Luther King and at his funeral, her rendition of "Precious Lord" gave voice to the bewilderment and resilience of grief. 

Let freedom ring.

Pain and trauma were re-voiced in blues and soul; jazz and gospel expressed out a vision which defied abuse and turned heartbreak into strength.  Hers was the voice which spelt out R-E-S-P-E-C-T, enabling generations to voice their own cry for equality regardless of race or gender.  This voice was gift, crafted by skill and underpinned by character; flawed and flawless, hopeful and human. 

Respect!

In the words of Barak and Michelle Obama’s tribute: Every time she sang, we were all graced with a glimpse of the divine… In her voice, we could feel our history, all of it and in every shade - our power and our pain, our darkness and our light, our quest for redemption and our hard-one respect.

Let it ring… let freedom ring.

This cry is voiced in the scriptures which shaped Aretha’s life and shapes ours. The journey towards freedom is fraught with struggle - with power and pain, the darkness and light. The book of Exodus names the groaning and cries of a people who are enslaved.  The misery and suffering of the Israelites is observed by God; by a God who seeks to deliver them.  

How is that redemption song voiced? How does freedom ring? God works through flawed humanity to restore hope. A flawless glimpse of the divine is made real in human lives. Aretha embodied that in song. Moses embodied it in a call to lead.

The Jewish poet Yakov Azriel retells the family story of Exodus; inviting us to stand with Moses as something mysterious breaks into the mundane; as human curiosity meets divine holiness. He writes:

In the shadow of a burning bush, and in

Its light, we gaze beyond the desert dune.

Moses at the Burning Bush Rembrandt (1606 – 1669)

Moses' story is as complex as that of the Queen of Soul. A Hebrew by birth, given up for his own safety and raised in Pharaoh's palace; living in privilege yet aware of the injustice of the regime. His intolerance for abuse and exploitation leads to an act of violence. He's a man fearing for his own life yet his own people mistrust him.  The Moses we encounter tonight is a shepherd fugitive.  

Now he looks and turns aside: a bush ablaze yet not consumed. In Azriel’s words:

In the bush's shadow, and its light a thin

Unbroken thread of grace is seen...

There in the burning bush we see a flame of freedom.  God does not coerce Moses; rather he ignites his curiosity.  This isn't a dazzling display of power and glory. In shadow and light of an intriguing phenomenon, there's a thin line of grace which enables Moses to gaze beyond the desert dunes. In the darkness of exile there are glimmers of light and new purpose.

He hears his name.

The soles of his feet touch the heat of holy ground.

He hides his face.

His words: Here I am.

A voice: God’s ‘I am’.

The Burning Bush Dali (1904- 1989)

God chooses to act through one who already burns with a passion for justice. Moses will cry out for freedom in the face of systemic oppression.  The voice from this blazing bush is an invitation to us to; a call to courageously enact the possibilities of God’s goodness. This voice is, in the words of one Walter Brueggemann, ‘a flaming warrant for truth to power’. 

Moses goes on to express a number of objections to this challenging call. His reluctance is met by the assurance of support from his brother - and by God’s very self. God’s faithfulness as expressed in ‘I am’; the one who was and is and ever will be.  

God works through our passions and our voices can be threads of grace. Exodus tells one story of slaves and fugitives whose lives are marked by hope and blessing. Yet cry for freedom to ring out has not ceased. 

It’s no less daunting for us than it was for Moses to both stand on holy ground and respond to this call of radical transformation: of relationships, structures, priorities and communities. Our second lesson reminds us that this is about the whole of our life; but it also reminds us that we depend on the love of God.

The writer of Hebrews reminds us of God’s love in words which echo the voice from the flaming bush: Jesus is the same, yesterday, today and for ever. Jesus is ‘I am’, God with us.

For in him, God makes new his covenant and takes notice of human suffering. In Jesus Christ, God’s love reaches out to the vulnerable and marginalised. His teaching challenges the false assurance possessions, status and independence. His love meets us in the depths of despair and humiliation; and heals when we are wounded and fearful.  He bears the agony of the cross and the coldness of the tomb. And freedom rings out in resurrection life.

The writer of Hebrews also reminds us of the very practical demands of letting freedom ring out. Mutual love is revealed in friendship and support; our bodies can communicate tenderness, creativity, compassion and support.  We are to imitate those whose lives have revealed God’s love to us. 

 

Angel Unawares - Kimberly Ramey *

Hospitality is not confined to those we know - but to those with whom our lives intersect in fleeting ways. Those who are imprisoned or on probation, those who seek refuge or who become invisible in residential care aren’t kept at arms length as ‘other’. They are part of us.  We are to be content with what we have - a prophetic message in a world of zero hour contracts and executive pay increases, where human beings are still enslaved and trafficked.

Collectively and individually, we are to let freedom ring out: confronting the power of inequality, abuse, illness and discrimination. In our lives, that thread of grace, the glimpse of the divine, can run on.  It runs on in what ignites our passion for justice; in what kindles our compassion.  

Each of us can take a lead - in acts of service, influencing others, finding allies in campaigning and seeking the welfare of society; in living out R-E-S-P-E-C-T.

May we walk in the light of Christ, by the power of the Spirit at work in us, revealing something of God's love: Let freedom ring out. 

© Julie Gittoes 2018

 

*This painting created by Kimberley Ramey and the narrative accompanying it speaks movingly and honestly of the challenge of Hebrews and moments of hospitality which can be glimpsed or lost; sharing the image and the link to her work to read more about this.

Easter: the main event!

The text of a sermon preached today - Easter Day. The texts were Exodus 14:10-18, 26-15 and Revelation 15:2-4

Alleluia! Christ is risen.

He is risen indeed: alleluia!

Bunny versus Santa Claus ran the headline.

Hot-cross buns or Christmas cake, bland Turkey or luscious lamb? ran the tagline.

You’d expect a weekend cookery supplement to run with a virtual ‘food fight’’ between Christian festivals; and after the misplaced ‘outrage’ over Easter eggs, it might be wise for a preacher to stay well away from references to chocolate on Easter Day. 

Bunny versus Santa Claus with illustration by Sam Island

However, the columnist Stephen Bush began his article with what he calls the ‘theological side’.

He wrote: ‘Easter is better than Christmas for many reasons. If, like me, you grew up in a religious household, you will know this is because the Easter festival is the main event, AKA the Resurrection, while Christmas is just the warm-up band, in which some bloke and his misses forget to book a hotel and accidentally invent Airbnb to solve the problem’.

Yes, Easter is the main event. Resurrection speaks of life, joy and the transformation of the world. In Jesus dying and rising a new age has begun. We are a new creation!

But Christmas is much more than the warm up act:  that bloke and his misses AKA Mary and Joseph held in their arms a speechless infant. That child is God with us; the Word made flesh.

Christmas celebrations gives us the first song of the main event. Then we sang ‘Hark! the herald angels sing glory to the new-born King, peace on earth and mercy mild, God and sinners reconciled’. Today that work of reconciliation is made visible.  Our songs of praise continues: ‘Jesus Christ is risen today, Alleluia!’ and ‘Love’s redeeming work is done’.

All that Jesus said and did was an expression of God’s love; an embodiment of God’s life.  

When he washed feet and broke bread; when he touched the sick or he spoke to the marginalised; when he welcomed the child or challenged the rich; when he told stories about the lost being found; when he calmed storms on the sea or of the mind in turmoil. 

Then. 

In these moments. 

We see the power of God work bringing healing, wholeness, forgiveness and peace.

On Good Friday we recalled Jesus’ identification with our suffering, wounded, struggling and failing humanity.

On Holy Saturday we waited. Jesus death took God’s love to the very depths of despair and life-less-ness.

On Easter Day we rejoice through life-giving love, that pain and grief is transformed and made beautiful.

Now.

Moment by moment.

We can begin again, enabled by the love and power of our risen Lord.

Today we celebrate because resurrection is a remaking of creation itself.

This remaking is something we see only in part: we and all creation are groaning in eager longing to see the fulfilment of this vision of peace and everlasting joy. It’s a longing expressed in another song: the hope of life and and love of Song of Songs which we heard in today’s anthem.

Our readings today might be surprising We haven’t heard about the empty tomb; or the fear, bewilderment, and amazement of the first witnesses; of Mary Magdalene in the garden or the disciples on the road to Emmaus, or of Peter’s proclamation to the people of Jerusalem.

Instead we’re given a bigger perspective on the main event of life, joy and resurrection. It’s a bigger story which renews our hope.  Scripture begins with the goodness, diversity and beauty of creation. Although we are created in and for love, we become ensnared by bitterness, misdirected desires; our capacity to control and harm; our own fears.

Exodus tells of those who’d been enslaved by the Egyptians - exploited, degraded and oppressed. Now they’re afraid of what lies ahead.  For Israel, the certainty food and shelter as slaves seemed preferable to the unpredictable journey of liberation, through the wilderness, to the promised land.

Their flight to freedom was complicated and dangerous. We hear of the casualties amongst those who wanted to recapture them.  A microcosm perhaps of the tensions and cycles of violence, protest, freedom and domination we see in our world today. 

Crossing the Red Sea: Dura Europos Synagogue, C3rd

In the chaos of the mud and the drama of a divided sea, these people take a step towards the freedom God desires for all people. No wonder that they sing; no wonder they rejoice in a glorious triumph; no wonder they attribute salvation to God; no wonder they take the risk of journeying on. 

This is a foretaste of what is accomplished in Christ’s death and resurrection: in love made perfect in weakness, powers of destruction are broken.

Our second reading gives us the finale if you like: the book of Revelation uses kaleidoscopic images to communicate what is beyond the limitations of our human language, but which fulfils our hopes. A glimpse of everlasting life; the time when God will be all in all.

It speaks of a time when evil is conquered and suffering is no more.This fiery, glassy sea echoes the liberation from slavery through the sea; it echoes the baptismal waters through which we die and rise with Christ. The song of heaven resounds; giving us a glimpse of time when all peoples and nations will be united in glorious joyful song to God.

We long for that day.

Today is the main event. Through Jesus’ life, death and resurrection, human history has changed. He restores broken relationships - freeing us from all that limits human flourishing and from death itself.  

We are mortal: we live, breath, create, suffer, rejoice, grieve, endure, restore and we love. We are mortal; vulnerable. And yet, because God acted in his Son Jesus Christ, we are able to live in a new way, living breath by breath in his Spirit. We are to be the gift we receive: a people of joy and healing.

As we sing ‘alleluia’ today, our lives are caught up in the main event of resurrection: our life begins anew today and every day. Because Jesus was, is and will be, God with us. Our alpha and omega; our beginning and our end.

© Julie Gittoes 2017