Jesus didn't have a building; he didn't have a church; he didn't have a home base. He didn't have an institution; he didn't even have a stable community. Jesus had Jesus; he had himself. He had the way that he carried himself in the world, the way he looked at people, the way he saw them, the way he cared for them, the way he spoke. And he had a message -- "Peace be with you; not as the world gives, but as God gives. Peace be with you. The kingdom of God is here, right now. Peace be with you."
This message, this peace, is not peace in the way that I normally think of it. It's not like a brief break, a brief armistice from the fighting that is always going on. It's a peace that is here, inside, that lives regardless of what's going on around me. It's the peace that comes when you know that you are loved by God, that you're held in God's hands, and not even death will hurt you.
Peace be with you. The kingdom of heaven is at hand; not the kingdom of the United States, not the kingdom of any nation, but the kingdom of God. The thing about the kingdom of God is that everyone in the world is a member of the kingdom. In God's kingdom there is no separation. There is neither wealthy nor poor, Jew nor Gentile, slave nor free, male nor female. There's no Muslim, Christian, Sikh; there's no gay or straight. Everybody is a member, everybody is connected, everybody is interdependent. Jesus had nothing but himself, and this message, and there were a few handfuls of people that understood. There were a few that experienced this love, that caught on fire, that knew there was a different way of being in the world. They got excited.
When Jesus was on his way to Jerusalem, on his way to be crucified, he still had this peace inside him. He knew that this peace needed to be shared. So he sent out his disciples, two by two, in community. He wants them to share this message; to enter a house, and say, "Peace be with you." But he didn't want them to just say the message. He wanted them to be the message. He wanted them to embody the message. So he gave them instructions: take no purse, no bag, no money, nothing that will make you feel secure or independent. Can you imagine that? To be totally vulnerable, so that your only way of living is to be in community, to be interdependent with other people.
If you are safe and secure, then you can treat this message of peace like some sort of hobby. You can do it occasionally, when you feel like it. But if you're completely vulnerable, if your only safety lies in you reaching out in community to others, it's no longer a hobby; it's a way of life. So the disciples were invited to make themselves completely vulnerable, completely dependent, and walk into strangers' homes.
It's not like our culture, where it would be pretty unusual for someone to just walk inside your house. In their culture, the front half of the home was open, it was public space, people would flow in and out. You could walk into this public space and you would say, "Peace." Then, if they welcomed you in, your peace would rest there, and you yourself would experience more peace. The kingdom would become a little more present. The more you did this, the more you would see it blossoming.
Jesus wanted them to be the message as they traveled. But -- what about rejection? What do you do when you say, "Peace be with you," and you're rejected? Well, there are two things that I would want to do. First, I would want to curse the people who rejected me, because clearly they are bad people if they reject me, right? In last week's Gospel, that's what Peter wanted to do, he wanted to rain down fire from heaven on those who rejected Jesus. But Jesus said no. We don't get to curse people who reject us.
Now the other thing that I would do if I were rejected, would be to carry that rejection with me. It would gnaw on me. That tape would run in the back of my head again and again and again. But Jesus said, don't take any of that with you. Even the dust on your feet from that experience, just wipe it away. Leave them to God, and move on.
So those were the instructions, and the disciples go out and come back. I can almost hear the surprise in their voices when they say that it worked! They're amazed -- they went out, two by two, they walked into strangers homes, they said, "Peace be with you," and peace happened! They were dependent, and interdependence happened, community happened. It spread and grew. And none of the forces of division, of evil, of violence, could prevail against that love. Who could imagine it? They were shocked. They came back and said, "It worked!"
Imagine being that kind of community. Imagine being enlivened and empowered by our interdependence, by our sense of peace, so much so that we couldn't help but go out and share with others because the world needs that. This world is being ripped apart by division, by isolation. The world needs the peace that Christ gives; the world needs the kingdom of God.
I experienced that kingdom recently. Friday morning I received an e-mail inviting me to a vigil that night. Like most invitations to experience the kingdom of God, I was a little too busy to attend, so I initially said no, but I was prevailed upon and ended up going this past Friday night. It was at the Rose Garden outside the Capitol. The vigil was being held for Satender Singh, who was a young man who died this past week.
Several days ago, Satender was at a picnic at Lake Natoma, with a handful of his friends. Satender and his friends were Pacific Islanders, and all of his friends were there with dates or spouses except Satender, who was there alone. There was dancing; he danced with his brother sometimes, he danced with other friends.
During their picnic, there was another group that saw them. Throughout the day, this other group came over and taunted them; racial slurs, homophobic slurs. At the end of the day, this other group had their girlfriends and wives go to the cars, and this group came over and started to fight with Satender's group. Satender was punched, and he fell, hit his head on a rock, and lost consciousness. He was taken to the emergency room. Several days later, he died.
Friday morning, several people have the idea of holding a vigil. They got the word out as quickly as they could, to as many people as they could. This wasn't going to be a political rally, they said. This was just going to be a time to express support for Satender’s family and friends. So we went to the vigil, Andrea and I together, and the event was going to last about a half hour with various speakers.
The Rose Garden was packed. Hundreds of people showed up. The event began with an African-American woman, a Congregationalist, singing a spiritual hymn. I knew then that I was on holy ground. Next were the speakers. There was a Jewish speaker, Muslim, Sikh, Christian. One of the representatives from the Japanese community asked everyone to raise their hand who did not personally know Satender. Hundreds of hands went up. A representative from the Chinese community, different members of the political community, social servants were there and spoke as well. Friends of Satender also spoke -- one woman who was his cube-mate at work talked about how Satender was one of those guys who was always cheerful. She talked about how it drove her crazy, that he was always cheerful, always happy, always upbeat. Another friend stood up, took her iPod, and played a recording of Satender’s laugh. His laugh was outrageous. It was infectious.
The theme of all the speakers was the same. The theme, again and again, was that we are not here to fight back. We are here to be strong in our unity and in our diversity. We are here to be strong in the way that we love one another and support one another. During that vigil, I was overwhelmed with a sense of peace. I saw Satan fall like lightning! I knew that there was no power, no evil, no violence, that could withstand the power of love that was in that Rose Garden that night. The kingdom of heaven was present, and it was palpable, and I knew it.
When I left, I wished intensely that I had brought my children, and I also wished that I had told many more people that the vigil was happening. Not because the event needed more people; but because the people needed to experience that event. The people need to know the strength of the peace of God, the strength of the kingdom of God. This strength is more powerful than any violence. Like the 70 disciples, I wanted to run back to Jesus and say "It worked! It really happened! The kingdom of heaven happened!" And part of me wished that the vigil was going to happen again next Friday, and the Friday after, so that I could bring more people.
But then I remembered -- that same experience is available here. And I get to come here, every week, to be a part of this community that shares that peace, that is strengthened by its diversity, strengthened by its willingness to hold one another in love. It's the experiences that I have here which made me open and sensitive to the experience in the Rose Garden. It's the experiences that I have here that make me want to go out and tell more people. This should not be a secret! People are hungry for the peace of God. People are hungry for the kingdom of God. And I want to share it, not because Trinity Cathedral needs more people, but because the people need the love and the power of God. Amen.