Nov 19 | “A Different Kingdom,” (Sermon, November 11th)

“When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain; and after he sat down, his disciples came to him. Then he began to speak, and taught them, saying:

‘Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

‘Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.

‘Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.

‘Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.

‘Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.

‘Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.

‘Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.

‘Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

‘Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.”

Matthew 5:1-12

“Oh stay at home, my lad, and plough

The land and not the sea,

And leave the soldiers at their drill,

And all about the idle hill

Shepherd your sheep with me.

Oh stay with company and mirth

And daylight and the air;

Too full already is the grave

Of fellows that were good and brave

And died because they were.”

I learned this heart-breaking poem by A.E. Housman from my mother. It is one of many poems that she wrote down in this book by hand. Her collection also includes the more famous World War I poems “For the Fallen” by Laurence Binyon and “The Soldier” by Rupert Brooke.

I find it interesting that so much poetry, both idealistic and realistic, arose out of World War I. I suppose Death, that great mystery, encourages us to use symbols, the building blocks of poetry. Symbols hold infinity in the palm of a hand by giving flesh to the intangible.

A poppy is a symbol. It has different meanings for different people. For some, it represents sadness and glory – both “fellows that were good and brave” and “Take up our quarrel with the foe.” These poles can lack balance and slide one way into a mawkishness divorced from context, or the other way toward nationalistic imagery of a homeland baptized in the blood of martyrs (imagery put to use by the Nazis in World War II).

I have difficulty with the poppy because I am a pacifist, but I always wear one. I do it for my grandparents and I do it for me.

For me the poppy is a symbol of an entire generation cut down in their youth. It is a symbol of the trauma of those left behind; of the terrible complicity between state and church in the recruiting and drafting of these young people; of a world in which peace can only be won through war, a concept advanced by the Roman Empire with which Jesus would have been very familiar.

For me the poppy is like the cross, a symbol of torture and degradation. The difference is that the horror of the cross has been flipped upside down in the resurrection. Darkness and light are held in perfect balance.

I don’t think that balance has quite happened for me with the poppy yet.

Jesus lived and died in a Pax Romana kingdom – and that peace was won through battle. It was out of balance.

For the imperial Roman God-Emperors and the elites of Judaea, it was skewed toward the light. The destitution of those below them fueled their wealth, and they believed that this was a blessing bestowed upon them by the gods. The Jewish elites were so scarred by lengthy battles with empire after empire that they had learned to accept gains when they were offered. They knew the alternative was far worse.

For the poor majority, it was skewed toward the dark. Crushed by heavy taxation and the fear of their new overlords, who had desecrated the temple and martyred many of their people, zealots struggled and met violent ends while others kept their mouths shut and tried to survive.

Jesus, the Light of the World, spoke of a different kingdom – the kingdom of heaven, which is not pie-in-the-sky when you die but is to become incarnate on earth. Jesus told its story in parables, and finally made a parable – a symbol – of himself by re-purposing an instrument of terror to bring the cosmos into balance.

We live in a Poppy kingdom.

Light does exist here. We remember, and we teach our children about the horror of war and injustice. But the balance is still skewed.

For me, it’s too dark. Today we say “Never again…” knowing full well that the poppy is a World War I symbol – a war once referred to as “the war to end all wars.” And we in the 21^st century know that it was not.

For some, though, it’s too light. It glorifies those who die exploded in trenches but often cares little for the veterans who return, scarred by innumerable losses and haunted by the fear and tension that combat (and combat training) imposes. And of course it completely ignores the civilian casualties of war, calling them “collateral damage.” It has no time for a deeper narrative of why we fight, resorting to platitudes and abstract concepts like “defending our freedom.”

The Poppy Kingdom says, “Honoured are the rich, because they must work harder than everyone else.”

“Honoured are those who are satisfied with their lot in life and never wonder how they came to have it.”

“Honoured are those who are tough on crime, because they know that the root of all crime is evil and selfishness.”

“Honoured are the hawks who raise up armies to fight terror but know their expertise is too valuable to risk fighting it themselves.”

“Honoured are those who are killed invisibly and can then be crafted into idols of any cause the world may choose to impose upon them.”

“Honoured are the honoured.”

This kingdom would have sounded familiar to Jesus, even if he didn’t make use of the same symbols. And he believed that it was a lie. He told us that God’s plan would look like complete foolishness to our Pax Romana/Poppy kingdom.

His blessings, the Beatitudes, are not actually prescriptive. They are a present incarnate reality which we may imitate but ignore at our peril.

“Blessed are those who battle mental illness.”

“Blessed is Abdullah Kurdi, father of Alan.”

“Blessed is Antoinette Tuff, who prevented a school shooting not with guns but with empathy, but still doesn’t have her own movie.” (I guess she’s just not as interesting as Steve Jobs).

“Blessed are Romeo Dallaire and Chencho Alas, working every day for justice having allowed themselves to be changed by the people they met.”

“Blessed are the Amish whose forgave the man who shot their daughters at school.”

“Blessed are Malala Yousafzai and her friends who risked it all for school.”

“Blessed is Keshia Thomas, an 18-year-old black woman who put herself between a KKK member and those who sought to beat him.”

“Blessed is Maximilian Kolbe, who was executed at Auschwitz voluntarily taking the place of another prisoner whom he didn’t even know.”

With the Beatitudes, Jesus shows us that the Poppy Kingdom has more light than we think. But we are called to bring it into greater balance: with words, actions, compassion, and love. Your kindness and your care for one another are first steps. Today’s Eucharist is another step: an acceptance of the life poured out so generously, so carelessly. It was a gift, which can be more difficult to accept than a loan. A gift demands nothing…and permits everything. Careless – because the vessel through which love is offered is totally broken open.

Today, as we gather to proclaim and share this gift, let us also remember those who sacrificed, and those who are sacrificed. Let us remember those who return home, and those who are still fighting. Let us remember those who are not soldiers but find themselves caught within the struggles of the powerful. Let us remember our mother earth who often bears the brunt of our wars.

Let us remember that the kingdom of heaven is not like any kingdom we have on earth.

Let us re-member, and bring the world into balance.