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5 Easter May 3, 2015

Heres what I imagine most of us have thought about the protests that degenerated into looting
and destruction in Baltimore this week: first of all, we dont discount the anger and frustration
and fear that many people feel about the spate of police-associated, out-of-proportion killings
that have recently taken place not only in Baltimore but right here in North Charleston and
several other urban areas. And of course when I say people Im referring primarily to black
people, especially young black people, especially poor, young, badly educated, male black
people. I imagine most of us, just like most of the reasonable, more or less articulate people
interviewed on the news, understand. How could what we might call for lack of a better term the
underclass not feel outraged and terrified? We get that theres something terribly wrong out
there, that prejudice is still all too prevalent in our society, that fear and mistrust beget more fear
and more distrust . . . that we cant blame people who might well be the next victims for crying
out against the injustice and oppression they face daily.
We try to see the big picture . . . to step back and recognize that its going to take more than
equipping the police with body cameras, as necessary as that is, to fix things. I imagine most of
us would if not exactly happily at least willingly pay more taxes if we could be reasonably
assured our hard-earned dollars would actually go towards educating our neighbors and fellow
citizens most in need of what they lack to break the cycle of poverty and hopelessness they find
themselves in. We have no desire to live in ivory towers. We come to church and remind
ourselves that Jesus didnt hang out very much with the haves of the world but with the poor and
the oppressed, the prisoners and captives, the aged and infirm . . . lepers and tax collectors and
prostitutes. If many of us recognize that by any standard of human existence, we are the
privileged few, we at least try to do what we can - to share a bit of the knowledge and wealth
that the random accident of our birth has bestowed on us.
BUT, heres what else I imagine most of us have thought - that all that is no excuse for setting
cars on fire and looting the CVS and throwing rocks at police cars. As President Obama said,
and we can only agree, that doesnt help. Its counterproductive. We need reform, not anarchy.
Peaceful protest - good. Violence and destruction - not good.
Im almost sure thats right, but I have to confess I wonder. I wonder what all the peace and
reasonableness that our thin veneer of civilization upholds has actually wrought. What has all
our so called exceptionalism achieved? Why, if weve come so far as to have seen the the many
legislated benchmarks of social progress weve seen in our lifetimes . . . why do we still have so
far to go? Why are minorities, especially black people treated so radically differently in our
criminal justice system? Why is the income disparity between rich and poor accelerating to the
absurd extent that it is? Is the talent and work of the financier or CEO really worth several
thousand times the effort the burger flipper or janitor or postal clerk puts out? And if not, why do

we stand for it? Why are we not shouting down the climate change deniers before were wading
across our front porches? Why do we moan about the clueless, corrupt do-nothing politicians
that, as low as their approval is, we keep reelecting?
Alright, I know that my flaming liberalism is showing, so let me quickly reiterate that my political
views, just like the political views of every other person wearing a funny collar, are no better
informed, no wiser or more insightful or legitimate than anyone elses, so what am I doing
spouting all this stuff from the pulpit?
Well, as Ive said before, what first drew me into the ministry is what has come to be known as
the Social Gospel - an outlook that the meaning of Christs presence among us isnt just about a
Kingdom thats to come to us in the next life but one thats intended to transform the life we live
in right now - in this life. The social gospel is the theological underpinning of some of the great
societal advocacies weve seen in our lifetimes - the civil rights movement, the war on poverty,
the increasingly forlorn cry for an end to war. And as even the Pope has shown,
environmentalism has its deep, spiritual roots. The social gospel, as much as any theology if not
more, finds the very meaning of Emanuel - God with us - in finding no distinction between God
and Love, God and justice. And they, of course, are much more than warm thoughts towards our
neighbors, more even than empathy. Love and justice are action. Theyre service. Theyre taking
the gospel out of the church into the streets.
In this mornings Gospel, John presents Jesus analogizing himself as the true vine and us as
the branches. We not only have life itself - Gods great gift, his miracle - but, nurtured by Christ
the vine, we have it abundantly. However, take a moment and note the pronoun - not you; not I;
we. We have the abundant life of love in Christ. The vine extends through all life, connecting
each branch with all the other branches. Separated from the vine and the other branches that
spring from it, our life loses its meaning.
Now all that can sound like some theological gobbledygook - the kind of stuff scholars get off on
- unless its put into action. The proofs in the pudding.
This past Wednesday, at the weekly class that I continue to wish more of you could find your
way to (it meets at 11), the subject was transformation, and for the 10 of us who were there, the
discussion quickly led to the unrest in Baltimore and the plight of the oppressed and
underprivileged members of our society. What could our small number, our little church, do
about it? Im happy to say the conversation quickly became very concrete, representing one of
the things I most love about our church, where outreach is taken seriously, where its more than
just words and money but involvement . . . where we seem to recognize in our bones that our
relationship with God, our lifeblood, is found in caring and service every bit as much as it is in
worship . . . where, in fact, we recognize that the two are in truth inseparable.

The question that both gave us pause in pondering its elusive answer and, I believe, the
motivation to act even though not knowing what the answer is - how do we walk in anothers
shoes? How do we experience what we in our world of relative privilege can see and see but not
understand? Its a question that isnt going to go away.
I bit my tongue on Wednesday (because I knew I was going to bring it up now and, frustrated
actor that I, like most clergy, am, I didnt want to tip my hand), but for me the question of walking
in anothers shoes hones right in on the burning cars and looted stores of Baltimore. And I dont
expect most of you to agree with or like this; in fact I imagine youll bridle against it, but as I
looked at the videos of those rioting young people, my first thoughts were - its about time. Sue
knows this. Shes heard me say for years in response to all the poverty any of us on Edisto dont
have to travel more than a mile or two to see . . . wheres the anger? Wheres the outrage? And
how does our faith contribute to what strikes me as a terrible complacency about the gulf that
separates two very distinct populations right here on Edisto?
And I dont know the answer. Im not so cynical as to discount the many positive ways our two
societies interact, and Im not so naive as to believe there isnt a lot of feeling smoldering under
some well regulated surfaces that a recent transplant from off like me isnt likely to see, but at
times I wonder if Karl Marx didnt have it at least half right - I wonder if in some communities,
religion really is the opiate of the masses. It may be hard right now, it may be unjust, but
hallelujah, hold on . . . it will all be made right in heaven. Theres a lot of much needed joy in that
message, but a lot of denial too.
I realize how cynical that sounds, how dismissive, and I dont mean to be disrespectful, either of
people whose shoes Ive never even begun to walk in or of a belief in an eternal divine justice
that I, and I hope you, find comforting and hopeful, but still I find myself if not exactly shouting at
least whispering - rise up, people, rise up. When your reasoned discourse and fervent prayers
fail to move those who would almost apathetically keep you down, when all else fails and seems
only to get worse - rise up.
And friends, whether I whisper it or shout it, and whether or not you do the same, hang on,
because I think that its coming. It may be an underclass rising up, it may be a third world
alienated teenager hacking into our grid and collapsing our infrastructure, it may be a pandemic
or war or societal collapse, or it may be our planet itself, striking back against our terrible, greeddriven refusal to be its steward, it may even be all the above, but whatever it is, as the Sam
Cooke spiritual that came out of the 60s sang out, a change is gonna come. We simply cant
continue on the course were on. The world that were leaving our children and grandchildren is
shameful.
A change is coming, just as it always has been coming. The question for us is the same
question looming over the rest of our shrinking world - what kind of change will it be? Perhaps

our best hope, if not our only hope, is to actually take our faith so seriously that, rather than
continuing to usher a withering vine into an increasingly Godless world - a world that includes all
the perverse ways the kernel of truth in our gospel and others is undermined by corrupt leaders
and false prophets, we can hear and heed the words of Jesus when John cites him saying If you
abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask for whatever you wish, and it will be done for you.
That sounds so glorious, and so easy, that we might miss just how much it asks of us. Gods
words abide in us not when we nod our heads knowingly, or casually, but only when we radically
transform our usual way of being . . . when we sacrifice ourselves, reaching out in love and
service . . . and truth.
Amen.