Love & Community

Current political discourse seems to be all about making us afraid.

One side asks us to be afraid of the stranger.

Afraid of people whose language sounds different from ours, whose skin is a different color, whose names we cannot pronounce, whose stories we do not know.

The other side asks us to be afraid of government overreach and fascism.

Afraid of people whose political views differ from our own and whose stories we also do not know.

The danger in this atmosphere of fear is that it becomes easier and easier to withdraw into small groups of like-minded individuals.

And those groups become insular echo chambers that make judgments about who belongs and who does not.

Who is worthy and who isn’t.

Who is a true American or a true Christian and who is not.

Who is our neighbor and who is our enemy.

We are living in a time when immigrants are increasingly seen as threats—people who deserve to be afraid to go about their ordinary lives.

People who should be detained, deported, and separated from their families.

At the same time, there are people celebrating that cruel, inhumane treatment of our neighbors.

It is easy to vilify those people—to point out their behavior as contrary to the gospel.

That’s not wrong.

What is happening to our immigrant neighbors is decidedly unchristian.

We should absolutely call out that abhorrent behavior.

But judgment of those people—that should be left to God.

Remember: Jesus said, “love your enemies.

Do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, and pray for those who mistreat you.”

“Be compassionate, as your loving God is compassionate.

Don’t judge, and you won’t be judged.

Don’t condemn, and you won’t be condemned.

Pardon, and you’ll be pardoned.”

And this is where things get really complicated.

Because what does it mean to love our enemies?

It has way deeper meaning than just being nice to people.

It begins with grace.

Today’s Psalm begins with “how pleasant it is for God’s people to live together as one!”

It’s a beautiful image.

It says nothing about everyone being the same.

Because biblical unity is not sameness.

It doesn’t say everyone speaks the same language, looks the same, worships the same way, or shares the same political opinions.

It simply says that God’s people are gathered together in community.

That is precisely what this congregation is.

We do not come together because we have everything in common.

We come together because we are beloved children of God.

Called by name.

And claimed as God’s own.

God asks nothing of us at baptism.

God simply says, "You are my beloved child."

That is grace.

Nos reunimos porque somos amados hijos de Dios.

Llamados por nuestro nombre.

Y adoptado por Dios como suyo propio.

Dios no nos pide nada en el bautismo.

Dios simplemente dice: «Eres mi hijo amado».

Eso es gracia.

And perhaps the hardest thing about grace is that we can’t claim that we deserve God's love any more than anyone else does.

The undocumented immigrant does not have to earn God's love.

Neither does the citizen.

The poor person does not have to earn God's love.

Neither does the billionaire.

The trans person does not have to earn God’s love.

Neither does the bigot.

We are all beggars seeking God’s mercy.

And one of the most important things we can do in this culture that is obsessed with judgment and deciding who is worthy:

We can proclaim the Truth.

No one earns their dignity before God.

It is given—by God and God alone.

Nadie se gana su dignidad ante Dios.

Se nos concede por Dios y solo por Dios.

In today’s second lesson, Peter writes, "Above all, let your love for one another be constant."

Above all.

Not occasionally.

Not when it is convenient.

Not only when people agree with us.

Constant love.

Peter continues, “Be mutually hospitable without complaining.”

Hospitality is not simply being polite.

Remember, Jesus calls us to radical hospitality.

Jesus says, “Come to the table.”

Not because you are worthy.

But because God is gracious.

God does not wait for us to become worthy.

God makes us worthy by grace.

And what that means for us is that we cannot spend our time deciding who is worthy to belong.

Because the truth is none of us are worthy—except by the grace of God.

There is room for everyone at the Table.

Pues la realidad es que ninguno es digno, a menos que sea por la gracia de Dios.

Hay sitio para todos en la Mesa.

In today’s gospel, Jesus says, “As my Abba has loved me, so have I loved you.

Live on in my love."

Jesus does not say, “Love one another so that I will love you."

He says, "I have loved you."

Then, "Live on in my love."

And then, "Love one another as I have loved you."

The gift comes first: “I have loved you.”

Then comes the command: “Love one another.”

That is our theology.

Grace comes first—always.

God acts first—always.

Our response—loving one another—is not the cause of God's love.

It is the result of God's love.

We love because Jesus first loved us.

Esa es nuestra teología.

La gracia va primero, siempre.

Dios actúa primero, siempre.

Nuestra respuesta, amarnos los unos a los otros, no es la causa del amor de Dios.

Es el resultado del amor de Dios.

Amamos porque Jesús nos amó primero.

And then Jesus says, “Instead I call you friends.”

Friends.

Not subordinates.

Not students.

Friends.

This is an important lesson for us because Jesus created a community where people who were once strangers became friends.

People who were once students became friends.

Relationship changes everything.

The good news of the gospel is that change is possible.

We can evolve from student to friend.

From stranger to neighbor.

And from neighbor to friend.

And friendship has a way of destroying fear.

It is easy to fear an immigrant.

It is harder to fear Diego.

It is easy to fear a Christian nationalist.

It is harder to fear Brad.

We do not have to pretend that injustice is not real.

Communities ARE being targeted.

Human beings ARE being reduced to their immigration status.

Our neighbors ARE being abducted and disappeared.

Families ARE being separated.

People ARE afraid to go out.

The church absolutely must not be silent about that.

But neither should we imagine that our anger is the gospel.

Our anger may be justified.

Our lament may be necessary.

Our resistance may be faithful.

But underneath all of it must be the deeper reality: Jesus was crystal clear when he said, “love one another as I have loved you.”

That is what keeps our resistance from becoming hatred.

That is what keeps our justice-seeking rooted in grace.

That is what keeps us from becoming what we oppose.

Nuestra ira puede estar justificada.

Nuestro lamento puede ser necesario.

Nuestra resistencia puede ser fiel.

Pero debajo de todo ello debe estar la realidad más profunda: Jesús fue muy claro cuando dijo: «Ámense los unos a los otros como yo los he amado».

Eso es lo que evita que nuestra resistencia se convierta en odio.

Eso es lo que mantiene nuestra búsqueda de justicia arraigada en la gracia.

Eso es lo que nos impide convertirnos en aquello a lo que nos oponemos.

God calls us into many vocations—parent, teacher, pastor, and congregation member, to name a few.

And in every vocation, God gives us opportunities to love and serve our neighbor.

God has placed our neighbors in our lives so we can care for them.

Jesus has already saved them—that’s not our job.

Our job is to refuse to let fear determine how we treat them.

To welcome everyone into our congregation.

To help them find resources.

To learn another language so we might welcome them more effectively.

To listen to their stories so we might understand them better.

To say, “You are not alone. You are welcome here.”

None of these things earns salvation.

They are simply the acts of people who have been forgiven and are grateful for it.

And that brings us back to this congregation.

We are not called to be people who agree with one another about everything.

We are a community created by God.

We gather around water and the Word.

We gather around bread and wine.

And at the Table and at the Font, something extraordinary happens.

Despite having different backgrounds.

Despite being different races.

Despite speaking different languages.

Despite having different political opinions.

Despite having different levels of income and resources.

We are united in God’s love for us.

And our love for God.

And our love for one another.

We are united in the waters of baptism.

We are united at the table.

Same water.

Same bread.

Same wine.

Same grace.

Every way that this broken world tries to divide us loses its power at the font and at the table.

Nos une el amor de Dios por nosotros.

Y nuestro amor a Dios.

Y nuestro amor mutuo.

Nos unen las aguas del bautismo.

Nos une la misma mesa.

Misma agua.

Mismo pan.

Mismo vino.

Misma gracia.

Cualquier forma en que este mundo roto intente dividirnos pierde su poder en la pila y en la mesa.

Because our deepest identity is not our nationality.

Our race.

Our citizenship status.

Our political affiliation.

Our sexuality.

Or our gender.

Our deepest identity is beloved child of God.

Called by name.

And claimed as God’s own.

Porque nuestra identidad más profunda no es nuestra nacionalidad.

Ni nuestra raza.

Ni nuestra condición de ciudadanía.

Ni nuestra afiliación política.

Ni nuestra sexualidad.

Ni nuestro género.

Nuestra identidad más profunda es la de ser hijos amados de Dios.

Llamados por nuestro nombre.

Y adoptado por Dios como suyo propio.

But that does not mean that our differences disappear.

So, what does all this mean for us in this immigration dystopia we find ourselves in?

I believe it means we are called to become a community that practices a different reality.

A community where fear does not get the final word.

A community where the stranger becomes our neighbor.

And the neighbor becomes our friend.

And the friend becomes our family.

A community where children do not have to live in fear, wondering if their parents will come home.

A community where people can go to work or the grocery store without being afraid of being abducted.

A community where the language of grace is stronger than the language of fear and hatred.

A community where the table is longer and there is always room for one more.

And we do this not because we are especially good people.

We do it because God has been especially good to us.

That is the heart of our theology.

We are saved by grace.

And therefore, we are free to love.

Ese es el centro de nuestra teología.

Somos salvos por gracia.

Y por eso, somos libres de amar.

So let Psalm 133 become our vision: "How pleasant it is for God’s people to live together as one!”

Let Peter become our practice: "Above all, let your love for one another be constant."

And let Jesus become our foundation: "Love one another as I have loved you."

We cannot control every politician.

We cannot make every law just

We cannot make every headline unbiased.

But we can decide what kind of congregation we want to be.

We can decide that this church will be a place where grace is stronger than fear.

Where hospitality is stronger than exclusion.

Where friendship is stronger than suspicion.

Where love is stronger than hate.

Where no one is reduced to a label.

Where no one feels alone.

And where the font and the table proclaim:

You are a beloved child of God.

Called by name.

And claimed as God’s own.

You belong here.

Eres un hijo amado de Dios.

Llamado por tu nombre.

Y adoptado por Dios como suyo propio.

Aquí perteneces.

Jesus commanded us to love one another.

Not so that God will love us.

But because, by grace, God already does.

Jesús nos mandó que nos amemos los unos a los otros.

No para que Dios nos ame, sino porque, por gracia, Dios ya lo hace.

May this meditation on God’s word keep our hearts and mind on Christ Jesus. Amen.