“The Church’s New Clothes”
Seventh Sunday after Pentecost | July 11, 2021
Amos 7:7-15
Mark 6:14-29
The story is an old one. It goes back to the early 1800’s. Written by Hans Christian Anderson in Denmark, it tells of two conmen who enter the city of the king. This king loves to wear extravagant clothing, even at the expense of the poor people he lords over. The conmen pose as tailors and promise to weave the king a garment more extravagant and luscious than anything he has ever worn in his life. He agrees and gives them loads of gold before they even begin.
They set up the loom and begin their work. Except, as various courtiers and even the king come to check on their progress, they notice that the loom is empty. There is no fabric, no garment. They see nothing. But they don’t say anything because the conmen have convinced them all that the garment is so lavish that only the smartest and most competent of people can see it. And instead of wanting to look like fools, they all admit that they can see the beautiful fabric taking shape.
Soon the day comes when the king will parade through the city showing off his new clothes. The conmen mime dressing him, and everyone ooh’s and aah’s at his invisible suit. He struts through the city, letting all catch a glimpse of his glory. All of his glory. And no one says anything. First, they don’t want to appear stupid. Only the stupid people, they’ve been told, see nothing. Until finally an innocent child sees the king in all his glory and says loud enough for all to hear, “The king isn’t wearing any clothes!” And in that moment, the people finally realized that they have been duped. All except the king…who refuses to admit that he was wrong. So he struts even more confidently down the street, pretending he’s the only one smart enough to still see the amazing garment he just paid for.
Such is the situation of Herod, in many ways. He knows that he has no business carrying on with his brother’s wife. He knows that it is against Jewish law, as well as the Roman law. All of his courtiers and leaders know it, as well. But no one dares to say anything. No one except John. And that puts Herod in a tight spot. He has nothing against John. He even finds him entertaining…if only he would say more positive things—things Herod would enjoy hearing. Things that would lift him up and make him feel good about himself. He doesn’t want the truth. He wants to be glorified.
That’s the challenge we continue to face today. Little has changed. Whether it’s here in worship or out in the world, I hear it again and again: “Why do we have to keep talking about COVID? Or race? Or LGBTQ? Or mass incarceration?” How many of us on Facebook was excited this year to get back to seeing less politically divisive posts and more family vacation and food posts? We don’t want to be uncomfortable. We don’t want the ugliness of this world hitting us constantly. We don’t want to hear about injustice. We don’t want to dig into our deep, dark past or the reasons WHY people are migrating from Latin and South America; WHY gangs are more prevalent among people of color; WHY the justice system holds a double standard based on the color of our skin; WHY the weather patterns and climate are shifting so severely…let alone what needs to be done to actually address these issues.
If it’s not bothering me directly, then I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to be faced with the truth. Just give me good news. Tell me how much God loves me and that I’ll go to heaven someday when I die.
Friends, God DOES love you. But heaven is so much more than a destination. And God not only LOVES you but CHOOSES you to spread the kind of good news that is more than feel-good fluff. You are commissioned to tell the truth. To face the truth. Because, as Jesus says, “The Truth will set you free.” And the truth is, our world needs some TLC right now. Our neighbors need to know that we hear their pain. We recognize their plight. And we aren’t going to just cover it up with trite sayings like, “The Lord won’t give you more than you can handle.”
You all have heard by now about the mass grave of indigenous children found in British Columbia, Canada. They were found at the site of one of many boarding schools set up nationwide. Children were taken from their families and placed in these schools in order to force them to assimilate into what was considered at the time a ‘Christian nation.’ They had no choice.
Since that discovery, many churches in Canada have been tagged with graffiti, if not burned to the ground. Some with red hands and words that say, “We were children.” One such church in Manitoba has decided to leave the graffiti up for a while. They want to recognize the pain that the Church has caused. They want others to know they see and hear the grief being expressed. They won’t just paint over it right away and pretend nothing has happened. They may not know how to make reparations, but they are beginning with repentance. And repentance begins with Truth-telling.
Hearing the truth is not easy. Speaking the truth is not easy. Living the truth is not easy. And yet, God never promised us easy. God never promised us that our lives would be our own. And Jesus never called us to succeed in our mission.
Rather, he calls us to come. Follow him. To the cross. He calls us to come and die. That’s what baptism is about. But it doesn’t end with water on the forehead. That is only the beginning. From there, we embark on a journey that may often take us places we don’t want to go. It took Paul to Rome. It took Peter to Jerusalem. It took John to Herod. And from there, they preached the truth. The truth about us. The truth about God. The truth about God’s love. The truth about God’s forgiveness. The truth about Jesus’ death. The truth about our priorities.
Only when we hear both the truth we long for and the truth we hide from will we truly be free to live and be truth-tellers, ourselves. Isn’t that part of why we gather? To be strengthened with the faith of those around us so that we know, again and again, that we do not do the work of the kin-dom alone? Isn’t that why our community is so important? Our communion—receiving Jesus’ body and blood—the very elements we sacrificed have come to us to rescue us from ourselves.
That is the mission of God’s church. Truth. Repentance. Reconciliation. It is the call to Death. Hope. And New Life with Christ. May we never be too proud to hear it or too frightened to speak it.
Pastor Tobi White
Our Saviour’s Lutheran Church
Lincoln, NE
