Pentecost 8, 07/06/2008

Sermon on Matthew 11:16-19, by James V. Stockton

Jesus said to the crowd, "To what will I compare this generation? It is like children sitting in the marketplaces and calling to one another, `We played the flute for you, and you did not dance; we wailed, and you did not mourn.' For John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, `He has a demon'; the Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, `Look, a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!' Yet wisdom is vindicated by her deeds." At that time Jesus said, "I thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and the intelligent and have revealed them to infants; yes, Father, for such was your gracious will. All things have been handed over to me by my Father; and no one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal him. Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light."

I appreciate being able to return from vacation on a weekend on which we celebrate one of the greatest gifts and highest callings that God presents to all people. I like what 19^th century theologian Alexandre Vinet once said: "A work of God, or a work worthy of God, must necessarily be a work of liberty." This day, as Christians, we celebrate freedom. Tomorrow, as citizens, we celebrate freedom. Though we struggle with the connection, sometimes it is applied too heavily, sometimes too thinly, sometimes it is simply misapplied, yet, thanks be to God, you and I are blessed with a heritage that understands that there is something of God in the precious gift and responsibility of freedom.

Just three years after our nation declared its independence and three years before its independence would be become a reality, Francis Scott Key was born in 1779. Key's own infancy was nurtured in the infancy of his new-born country. He grew up a citizen of the United States of America, newly-founded, and a member of the Episcopal Church, newly-constituted. He matured in a land still nervous with its new autonomy yet confident with its hard-won liberty.

Both he and his country are barely 30 years old, when Francis Scott Key sees the U.S. invaded by the British military and, in 1814, much of the new capital city of Washington D.C. burned to ashes. A civilian friend of his has been taken captive, and Key is on his way to negotiate his release. His efforts succeed but the British delay their departure, lest they expose the enemy's plans for attacking the city of Baltimore. Key's ship is closely guarded by a British vessel nearby. From there he can see that 8 miles north, the British fleet is moving on Fort McHenry, the U.S. military outpost protecting Baltimore's harbor. As the British begin their bombardment, Francis Scott Key can only watch and pray. This is the same British military that has in recent months made an end of the military might of the great Napoleon Bonaparte; that has met with victory after victory in its campaign in the U.S. There is every reason to expect that the massive British forces will here again find yet another success. Yet there is something about the naïveté of the newly born to freedom that compels them to go beyond the limits of reason alone; that moves them to continue to reach toward those ideals that stirred the blood of those who gave them birth, and which now moves within themselves as they press on against the odds to bring these principles to life.

It's the idealism of those who choose, contrary to the human wisdom of experience and history, to believe that the struggle against the tyranny of such lesser manifestations of human nature as hatred, fear, selfishness, and greed, is a worthy one. It is the innocent optimism of those who believe that the effort within oneself and in one's society ‘to do right,' even ‘when evil is close at hand,' can succeed, and lead to ‘life and peace.' It is people such as these of whom Jesus speaks in the Gospel reading for today. These words form the end of Jesus' comments about the different ways that different people have responded first to John the baptist, and then to Jesus himself. ‘What did you expect of John?' he asks them. ‘Did you go out to the desert looking for someone dressed in regal clothing, speaking messages that were sweet and sentimental, easy on the ear and popular with both the people and the authorities?' ‘Or did some of you go out looking for someone truly speaking of God, someone unafraid to challenge people with the truth and just as eager to encourage them with it? And now some of you criticize me' says Jesus, because, unlike John, I don't worry myself about the keeping the letter of the law; but instead concern myself with the grace of God which gave birth to the Law in the first place, and which still lies behind it, however remotely.'

And so, Jesus names the cities near his hometown, ‘Woe to you!' he says to the cities of Chorazin, Bethsaida, and Capernaum. Especially here, he has taught the people, healed them, comforted them, fed them, welcomed them to God's Peace. And now it hurts Jesus, I think, that many of his own people have turned a blind eye, a deaf ear, and a cold heart to his message and ministry. The cities, as entities, as whole beings, fail to receive Jesus' ministry and message. It's as though Jesus had aspirations that his ministry and message, the effects of his presence, would transform the official and political life of entire populations. In his perfect humanity, Jesus probably had hoped and dreamed that he would accomplish this, even while knowing in his perfect divinity, that it could not happen in his earthly lifetime.

Still, some of the people do get it. Some do understand something of who Jesus is: the Son of God, the Christ; and they do perceive something of his ministry to restore the people to God, and, if you will, to restore God to the people. And so we come to these words of Jesus in today's Gospel: "Thank you, heavenly Father, that you've hidden these things from the wise and revealed them to infants." ‘Thank you that the Gospel has found a home with the plain folk, with those utterly innocent and naïve as far as the truth of God is concerned.'

This is not to say that the truly wise cannot apprehend and accept the truth of God in Christ; that's not what Jesus is saying. Rather, it has something to do, I think, with the fact that the truly wise person is the one who doesn't consider himself or herself to be wise. And that the person who does indeed regard himself or herself as wise is too intellectually lazy to wrestle with a concept so simple as grace. Jesus calls them babies, infants, who are capable of it, and open to the illumination of God's truth. And this calls for a distinction. For Jesus commends here people who embrace their spiritual infancy, not those who are spiritually infantile. He is not calling for people to be religiously helpless or selfish; but to admit to a spiritual naïveté, an innocence of spirit.

For in this innocence of spirit is a combination of humility of self and boldness in what is plainly good, clearly in the right. There is a principled idealism for whatever has about it the solidity of truth and the consequence of freedom. And there is the conviction that it is worth the effort, worth the struggle, worth the cost, to bring it into being. This is what we celebrate today as Christian's at the altar. And it's what we recall in the best of our nation's history as we celebrate tomorrow on Independence Day.

Francis Scott Key can only watch and pray as the massive British naval assault on Fort McHenry begins. It will continue for 25 hours. After ten hours of bombs and mortar, the British navy moves in to take the ground. But they discover that the 1000 men inside the Fort refuse to surrender. At 7:30 the following morning, the British Admiral calls for an end to the attack and the fleet withdraws. As the British sail away, they can see behind them being raised to the rays of the morning sun, the flag of the United States of America, 30 feet by 42 feet, visible for miles around. It is the symbol of the impossible victory for which Francis Scott Key has been hoping and praying.

The sight of it waving in the wind moves him to put his inspiration immediately into words, a poem that soon becomes the anthem of the nation, the ‘Star-Spangled Banner." It is a symbol of a country still young enough, still innocent enough, still nervous enough still humble enough, to know how fragile are its freedoms. And it is the symbol of a new people, naïve enough, bold enough, courageous and brave enough, to struggle for the ideals and principles that have brought them together as one. It is a fine balance that makes you or me a patriot, and it is a fine balance that makes you or me a Christian. In each case, it is a worthy struggle against the arrogance of the zealot on the one hand, against the despair of the iconoclast on the other, for both are symptoms of our rejection of the grace of God. It's the balance that we walk, and to which Christ calls others through us, when we are humble in ourselves and confident in God. It's the balance we find, and which others find in us, when we are willing to be humble before the subtleties of human reason and the nuances of human opinion; and at the same moment are willing to be confident of that quality of God that is present in what is plainly right and simply good; and in that which points to truth and leads to freedom.

And so may Almighty God, in whose Name the founders of this country lit the torch of liberty for all, grant that we and all the peoples of this land may have grace to sustain our freedoms in righteousness and in peace; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with the Father and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Rev. James V. Stockton
Episcopal Church of the Resurrection
Austin, Texas

E-Mail: jstockton@sbcglobal.net

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