Open Wide the Gates -- A Sermon
Preachers are counseled to know their audience, but sometimes we find ourselves realizing that even with our best intentions, we really don't know how to speak or what to speak. I was invited to preach at an AIDS memorial service sponsored by a group of churches in Birmingham and Bloomfield Hills, MI. I was invited to preach in part in the hope that my congregation might follow and join in the service. I was invited to do this even though I admitted that I don't have any really experience with persons with AIDS. I can't say that I've even known anyone with AIDS (at least not knowingly), let alone has died of AIDS related illnesses. Although I have committed myself to joining forces with those opening the doors of the church to the LGBT community, this is still rather new territory for me. And so when I went to the pulpit last night, and across the congregation, finding only one familiar face, I found myself at a loss. I'd already written the sermon, and delivered it as best I could, but I truly felt inadequate to the moment. It quickly became apparent that most of the people gathered for this service, and the numbers were small, were people deeply affected by AIDS in one form or another. I tried to balance words of comfort with a call to justice, but perhaps I was speaking more to myself than to anyone in the congregation. I was the one who needed to understand the realities of the moment. It was the door to my own heart that needed to be opened. I thank God that the Spirit is able to speak even when my own words are inadequate.
But maybe these words will speak to others who like me have not paid much attention to persons with AIDS. My audience, really, was a different group, those who have shut the doors to persons with AIDS. My audience, ultimately, is that community of people who believe in justice, but need to be nudged toward recognizing that this is an area of justice that we too often neglect.
So I invite you to consider these words, which are heartfelt.
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Open
Wide the Gates
Sermon
for AIDS Memorial Service
We
come here tonight to remember loved ones who have died as a result of AIDS
related illnesses. As we do this, we hear
this word of hope from the Psalmist: “God is our refuge and strength, a help
always near in times of trouble.”
(Ps. 46:1). These words are
reflected in Martin Luther’s hymn: “A Mighty Fortress is our God,” where
we boldly sing: “Our God is a bulwark
never failing, our present help amid the flood of mortal ills prevailing.” It is this declaration that God is a never
failing bulwark that gives us confidence to entrust our loved ones to God’s
care.
This
word of consolation comes to us once again in the reading from Revelation,
which declares that God “will wipe away
every tear from their eyes. Death will
be no more. There will be no mourning,
crying, pain, anymore for the former things have passed away” (Rev. 21:4). In another place Paul speaks of a new
creation in Christ that’s made possible because God has reconciled all things
to God’s self through Christ. (2 Cor. 5:19).
There are many different kinds of
memorial services. Sometimes we gather
to remember persons who have died in service to community or country. Not long ago some of us gathered for special
services to observe the tenth anniversary of the events of September 11.
Tonight
we pay special attention to those who have died of AIDS related illnesses. We do this because some gathered here have
lost loved ones to this disease. We also
come to support those who face discrimination and exclusion because of the
stigma attached to this disease. When word
first broke about HIV and AIDS back in the early 1980s, it created great fear
in our communities. People were afraid to
go to restaurants or use public rest rooms, fearing that they might become
infected. But, when we heard that most
people contracting HIV and AIDS were gays or drug users, many of us decided
that this was a disease that didn’t affect us, and so we shut our hearts and
minds to those who were suffering. At
the same time, we began to hear leaders from the Christian community declare
that the people suffering with AIDS were reaping what they had sown and that
this disease was a sign of God’s judgment on sinners. As a result, people with AIDS, both gay and
straight, became pariahs, and we shunned them, hoping they would simply go
away.
When
I was asked to preach this evening I told my colleagues that I couldn’t speak
to the congregation from personal experience.
I’m not an AIDS activist and I don’t personally know anyone who has AIDS
or has died as a result of AIDS. But then
again, maybe I have known people with AIDS, but I just never knew because it
wasn’t something that could be mentioned or discussed. I agreed to preach tonight because I believe
this is an issue of justice that God is deeply concerned about. I believe that as we come tonight to grieve
we must also shine the light upon those places in our society that continue to
shun and exclude persons with AIDS and their families. It is a matter of justice and it’s a matter
of compassion.
Now,
it doesn’t matter if a person with HIV or AIDS is gay or straight, male or
female, young or old, Christian or not.
What matters is that we hear God’s word of grace and inclusion, and that
as we remember those who have died, we also speak out on behalf of those who
continue to live in our midst with HIV and AIDS and who face discrimination and
exclusion, who deal every day with the stigma of this disease. If we fail to do this, then we dishonor the
memories of those who have died.
But,
even as we make our declaration of justice, we must not lose sight of the grief
that is being shared here tonight. We
come to hear a word of consolation and a word of invitation, a word of comfort
and a word of inclusion.
There
is a word in the Ephesian letter that I think speaks to us tonight. The context is different, but this word has
implications for our time of remembrance.
The author of this letter says that Christ is our peace, and that “with his body he broke down the barrier of
hatred that divided us” (Eph. 2:14 CEB).
Our calling is, it would seem, using words uttered by an American
President to his Soviet counterpart while giving a speech in Berlin, is to say
to the world: “tear down this wall.” And as the walls that divide are torn down,
we can also open wide the gates so that all might find peace and comfort in the
presence of God.
There
is another word from Scripture that may be appropriate for this evening. I draw your attention to Peter’s vision,
which led him to welcome the Gentiles into Christ’s community. In that vision,
after God shows Peter a whole host of animals, and invites him to eat from this
palate of choices, God says to Peter, who refuses because these animals are to
him ritually unclean, God says to Peter:
do not call unclean what I call clean.
And with this vision, God opens wide the gates of the realm of God.
Do
we not hear something similar in our day about persons with HIV and AIDS? Do we not hear God say to us – open wide the
gates, remove the stigma and the shame.
Allow people the freedom to grieve and remember in peace, without worry
about how others might perceive them and their loved ones. Yes, as God opens wide the gates, we hear
this word from the prophet Zephaniah:
I will deliver the lame; I will gather the outcast. I will change their shame into praise throughout the earth. (Zeph. 3:19).
May
this be our prayer tonight as we remember those who have died, as well as those
who continue to live with AIDS. May our
gathering tonight be a sign that God has opened wide the gates.
Comments
What you should have said was, "I'm sorry for encouraging and enabling people to get AIDS by my encouraging and enabling sodomites to practice their filthy, immoral deeds, and by lying that God approves of their sin."
If you had said that, I would think there might be some hope for you. As it is......
Bob, I could tell you're talk was very on the mark for all those attending. Thanks for making me cry, you lug.
Thank you for being there and for sharing the memory of your cousin.
Thank you also for the appreciative words about my message.
And we'll simply ignore Gary this time around.