1 Peter 2:1-10 , The 4th Sunday of Easter, St. Paul’s L’Amoreaux, April 13, 2008
I attended seminary at Asbury Theological Seminary in Wilmore, Kentucky, nestled in a little county town in the heart of Kentucky bluegrass country. And in my first year as part of the program of preparation for pastoral ministry, I was sent to a nearby orphanage. All of us in the class were assigned to different institutional settings, like the orphanage, or a hospital or a prison chaplaincy, and usually after a weekend of service, we’d meet the next week in class to think over our experiences.
My first week, I noticed a little guy about six years old. I was about 22 at the time, came from a family of three sisters and a pile of cousins, always thought that I could get along with children, and enjoyed doing so. So I went up to this little fellow and said hello. He didn’t say anything.
Figured he didn’t hear - and so I said it again. ‘Hello, how are you? My name is Dean.”
He didn’t say anything. He didn’t look at me. And he walked away. The experience of it was not simply that I had been ignored. It was as if it hadn’t even registered that someone was standing there, speaking. It was the first time I remember feeling like a speed bump.
I mentioned it to my supervisor at the orphanage. “That’s Bobby,” he said. “Treated very badly in his home and finally taken out. Don’t be surprised if he’s a little shy around adults.”
I mentioned the experience back in class. In class we were to think through things and, if possible, go back to hard parts and try again.
“Next time I’ll try chocolate,” I said.
“But before you do that,” said one of my classmates impatiently, “get down on your knees where he can see you, look him in the eye, and ask him if he’d like to play baseball or something.”
“Hmm,” I said thoughtfully in class. “What good would that do,” I said to myself. “Chocolate is sure-fire.”
But the next weekend, there was Bobby, still treating me like pavement, and I thought, “Well, might as well try.”
I went over to Bobby, got down on my knee, stared him in the eye, and said, “Bobby, go over to the playground, pick up the bat, and I’ll pitch to you. See how well you hit.”
Again, didn’t look at me, didn’t say anything, walked around me - though it felt like over me like you walk over sidewalk - and ran off.
“What did she know,” was my first thought. “Should have used chocolate,” as I watched Bobby run off . . . to the playground . . . where he leaned over, picked up a baseball bat, turned around and for the first time, looked at me. And with only his eyes, he ever so forcefully and clearly said, “Pitch!”
So I pitched. And over the course of that term made a great little friend.
It was quite an experience at the orphanage, and there were parts I found very hard. The atmosphere among the kids was often very rough. Fighting and quarreling with the supervisors was routine. And it was hard to face what they had experienced at such a young age, often from the ones with the greatest obligation to protect them. I learned a little of how badly their thoughts and emotions were manipulated. And I learned about the sad cycle of it all, that the parents abusing them were 90% likely to have been abused themselves. And, unless interrupted, it would likely continue.
But I remember one weekend, a busload of us traveled a few miles away to a church where the young people sang in the morning service. And between songs, the director gave some of the young people a chance to speak, if they wanted to. One of the roughest of the bunch stepped forward and said, tearfully. “This is my family,” he said. “These people love me. And they have given me a chance.”
In I Peter, chapter two, there is a list of vices which the author says should not be characteristic of the Christian: Rid yourselves, therefore, of all malice, and all guile, insincerity, envy, and all slander. (NRSV)
These vices are common enough that they were no doubt raising their ugly heads among those to whom this letter was written. But there’s something intriguing about this list. For this particular group of Christians, these vices were also abuses directed toward them.
Situations are described in which clearly Christians are being maligned, slandered and abused. In light of these situations, they are counselled not to seek revenge but rather to follow the example of Jesus Christ.
In verse four, it says: Come to [Jesus Christ], a living stone, though rejected by mortals yet chosen and precious in God’s sight (NRSV).
In verse twelve, it continues: Conduct yourselves honorably among the Gentiles, so that, though they malign you as evildoers, they may see your honorable deeds and glorify God when he comes to judge. (NRSV)
And then, clearly and forcefully, the argument is summarized in chapter three: Keep your conscience clear, so that, when you are maligned, those who abuse you for your good conduct in Christ may be put to shame. For it is better to suffer for doing good, if suffering should be God’s will, than to suffer for doing evil. (1 Peter 3:16-17, NRSV)
Now the point I wish to emphasize is that usually when we think about vices such as these - malice, guile, insincerity, envy, and slander - we think of them as personal problems or failings. But here in 1 Peter it is also recognized that many times these vices arise as a direct consequence of having faced them. They arise as a form of self-defense. In other words, if as a Christian you are constantly having lies told about you, why shouldn’t you stretch the truth yourself or lie about those who have lied about you? If people are being cunning against you, why should you have to be the one to always act honestly and play it straight? In other words, it is one thing to show Christian love among those who you expect to return it. It is another thing altogether to show Christian love when it is greeted by malice, insincerity, and slander!
And that takes us to the heart of this passage. 1 Peter is like an architect’s draft for a great building, whose cornerstone is Jesus Christ, who knew himself what it was to be ill-treated. For among those he served, Jesus was despised, rejected, and forsaken. But to the surprise of those who opposed him, God sent him to interrupt the downward cycles of hatred and rebellion in our world and to free us to serve.
He bore our sins on the cross, so that, free from sins, we might live for righteousness. (1 Pe 2:24)
How does this happen in a person’s life? How are the downward spirals interrupted?
It happens, often times, because another Christian has come into our life and through their kindness and truthfulness have interrupted our lives. In the life and witness of that Christian, we have seen Christ himself and our lives have been set free.
It happens in some cases because, in a dark moment, we have had a direct experience of God’s grace in our lives, and have been lifted to a higher plane.
This past week I heard a radio interview with Bishop Victoria Matthews, and at a time of uncertainty and confusion in her life, it was just such an experience of God’s grace that brought relief and offered direction which she would never doubt and from which she has never veered.
And it happens because it is true. Hatred, cunning and cruelty are not the final words to be spoken in this world. The final words are the words of forgiveness, mercy and reconciliation from the lips of Jesus Christ on the cross. And with his resurrection three days later, we realize that not only what he said was great. What he said was true. In fact, the mercy, forgiveness and compassion of God is true are the truest thing we know.
As Peter puts it so beautifully: He bore our sins on the cross, so that, free from sins, we might live for righteousness. (1 Pe 2:24)
I urge to open your life to God’s redeeming work. Accept the mercy God extends. Let the downward spirals be interrupted. And then enter gladly into the family business of sharing the mercy of God with others.
As 1 Peter describes it for us all:
[By the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ you have been made] a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people, in order that you may proclaim the mighty acts of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light. Once you were not a people, but now you are God’s people; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy. (1 Pe 2:9-10)