“What Difference Does it Make?”
A Sermon by the Rev. Dr. Hilary J. Barrett for Epiphany 7
Preached at Pleasantville UCC, February 20, 2011
Leviticus 19:1-2, 9-18 & Matthew 5:38-48
“You have heard that it was said…”

Ruby Nell Bridges was born in 1954 – the same year as Brown v. Board of Education -- the landmark decision of the United States Supreme Court that declared the segregation of public schools to be unconstitutional.

When Ruby was 6 years old, she and her family were living in the city of New Orleans.  Her parents had moved there from a life of sharecropping in Mississippi, because they hoped that the city would provide better opportunities for their children.  Except for church, and the long walk to the all-black school where Ruby went to kindergarten, Ruby’s world didn’t extend beyond the block she lived on.  But in the year 1960 all that was about to change.  Because that was the year New Orleans public schools were finally forced to desegregate.

In the spring, Ruby took a test, along with other black kindergarteners in the city, to see who would go to an integrated school come September.  Six children were chosen to integrate the city's public school system.  Two decided to stay in their old schools.  Three were sent to McDonough Public School.  Ruby was chosen to go William Frantz Public School, and she would be going alone.

On the morning of November 14, 1960, federal marshals drove Ruby and her mother the five blocks from their home to William Frantz Public School.  Two marshals would walk in front of her and two behind.  A mob of white people shouted and shook their fists and screamed nasty things at that tiny little girl.  Someone even took the time and effort to put a black doll in a little coffin.

It went on like that day after day.

Eventually, Ruby’s mother would have to go to work and Ruby would have to make the journey with the federal marshals by herself.  But Ruby’s mother told her, “Remember, if you get afraid, say your prayers.  You can pray to God anytime, anywhere.  He will always hear you."

“That was how I started praying on the way to school,” Ruby said.  “The things people yelled at me didn't seem to touch me.  Prayer was my protection.”

Ruby had a special teacher, named Mrs. Henry.  Every day, Mrs. Henry would watch Ruby walk into school.  One morning Mrs. Henry said she'd been surprised to see Ruby talk to the mob. "I saw your lips moving," she said, "but I couldn't make out what you were saying to those people."

Ruby said, “I wasn't talking to them, I was praying for them." Usually she prayed in the car on the way to school, but that day she’d forgotten until she was in the crowd.  So as she passed by the hate, she prayed: “Please be with me…and be with those people too.  Forgive them because they don't know what they're doing.”[1]

“You have heard that it was said,
‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’
But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you,
so that you may be children of your Father in heaven;

That lovely, gentle saint, named Mr. Rogers used to sing a song:

It's a beautiful day in this neighborhood, |
A beautiful day for a neighbor, Would you be mine?

Could you be mine?

   It's a neighborly day in this beautywood,

   A neighborly day for a beauty,

   Would you be mine?

   Could you be mine?

   I have always wanted to have a neighbor just like you,

   I've always wanted to live in a neighborhood with you.

   So let's make the most of this beautiful day,

   Since we're together, we might as well say,

   Would you be mine?

   Could you be mine?

   Won't you be my neighbor?

   Won't you please,

   Won't you please,

   Please won't you be my neighbor?

It seems to me that God is (and has been trying for millennia) to invite us to live in a wonderful neighborhood, where revenge is not the norm, but instead reconciliation.

Where trying to have a bigger house, a newer car, more successful children and grandkids is not the standard. But instead, it is taking care of the kids of the family down the street whose single mother has to work two shifts a day in order to put food on the table.

In God’s neighborhood, angry words are put out in the garbage can by the curb, and songs of friendship are sung over the backyard fences.

In God’s neighborhood, opposing sides of political debates invite each other over for a picnic to talk about how, together, they can make the neighborhood a better place.

In God’s neighborhood, folks are constantly living out the quaint notion that the best way we can show our love and devotion to God is by how much we love those around us.

Our scriptures passages for this morning tell us of the gracious invitation God offers to us, to live in this new neighborhood.  They are offered not with starry-eyed optimism, not with pie-in-the-sky promises, but with gritty honesty, with stark realism, with blunt words which let us know exactly how dangerous this invitation is.

Folks who want to live in this new neighborhood have to be willing to see people in a different way:

They have to be willing to accept differences rather than trying to change them;

They have to be willing to swallow pride;

They have to be willing to pray for those who may wish them a harm;

They have to be willing to recognize that the neighbor is the person who glares at you as well as the person who showers you with love and hope.

It's a dangerous invitation, but then it has always been risky to open one's ears, one's heart, one's life to the Almighty.[2]

Westboro Baptist Church in Topeka, Kansas has made a name for itself.  Following the leadership of the Rev. Fred Phelps, they have made it their mission to appear at high profile funerals around the country in order to spread their hate-filled message against gay and lesbian people. 

Recently, they were kind enough to make an appearance at the funerals of both Elizabeth Edwards and Christina Taylor Green – because, clearly, neither of those families had suffered enough.

Their story of hate is not at all interesting to me.  Hate is common, it is boring, and it is a sure sign of a lack of creativity. 

What does interest me is the response of good and faithful people to this kind of hate.  They call it an “Angel Action,” and Angel Actions have been taking place all over the country ever since 1999, when members of Fred Phelps and Westboro Baptist picketed the funeral of Matthew Shepherd, a 21 year old man who was beaten to death in Wyoming for being gay.

The whole idea of the Angel Action came from one of Matthew’s friends.  When she arrived at Matthew’s Memorial service she was shocked by what she found outside standing across the street: a small group of protesters holding neon-colored signs that bore messages of hatred.

When she learned that these same protesters were planning a demonstration during the trial for Matthew’s accused killers, she got an idea.  This time, when the picketers showed up, they were quickly silenced when counter demonstrators appeared in flowing white angel costumes complete with angel wings that measured 10 feet wide and 7 feet high.  The angels turned their backs on the protesters, spread their wings, and silently blocked from view the messages of hate. 

“If someone has done you wrong,
do not repay him with a wrong”
(Romans 12:17)

“See that no one pays back wrong for wrong” (1 Thessalonians 5:15)

“Do not pay back evil with evil” (1 Peter 3:9).

“Do not ever try to get even with the evil one.” (Matthew 5:38)

            The message of our faith is pretty clear on this point, and Christians have been trying to wrap their heads around it for two thousand years.

            Jesus doesn’t promise his disciples that our obedience will be effective in converting the enemy.  Obedience to the Gospel does not depend upon that. 

But disciples are called to be creative people; called to respond with creative obedience in the face of evil.  Ruby Bridges understood that, at the tender age of 6.  And those who labor to make giant angel wings know that as well.

This morning’s texts may prompt us to consider many things.  But one of the questions must surely be: if we believe that God lives in our midst, what difference does that make? 

If we believe that God lives at the center of our life, how will our lives look different?

As far as I can see, the answer is simple: it makes all the difference in the world!

Amen.