Jul 14 | “Revealed to infants,” (Sermon, July 13th 2016)

 At that time Jesus said, ‘I thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and the intelligent and have revealed them to infants; yes, Father, for such was your gracious will. All things have been handed over to me by my Father; and no one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal him.

Matthew 11:25-27

 

Ten years ago, documentary filmmakers Rachel Grady and Heidi Ewing released the film Jesus Camp. Jesus Camp is a film about a group of Charismatic Pentecostal children who are being trained up for Christian spiritual warfare by a children’s pastor, Becky Fischer, both at a Prayer Conference and at the titular camp “Kids on Fire,” ironically situated in Devil’s Lake, North Dakota. It’s a fascinating and remarkably even-handed look at American evangelicalism.

I watched it again recently and was surprised how differently I reacted to it this time as opposed to the first time I saw it about eight years ago. Many viewers were so distressed by what they saw that the camp actually had to be closed down due to protest and vandalism. Accusations of indoctrination and spiritual abuse dogged Pastor Becky after the film’s release.

Some of these accusations were well-founded. There’s nothing quite like watching a room full of children breaking down in tears after being told that their pastor knows that some of them are “phonies” and “hypocrites” for saying dirty words at school or having trouble believing in God. There’s nothing quite like watching Tory, a ten-year-old girl, dancing to Christian rock in her bedroom and following it up with, “When I dance, I really have to make sure that that’s God, because people will notice when I’m just dancing for the flesh, and I really need to get over that.”

The second time I watched it, though, I was really struck by her next sentence, which was, “I’m not the only one. People out there, you’re not the only one who makes that mistake.”

I was impressed at what I saw as a sign of spiritual caregiving. This was a ten-year-old girl, offering up spiritual advice and love to others who struggle.

Prayer and worship in this tradition was something else in the film that at first made me uncomfortable. Pentecostal prayer is a loud and emotional affair. There is a lot of waving of hands, a lot of swaying and spontaneous vocalizations. The children are taught to pray in tongues and are slain in the spirit. It’s all a bit overwhelming for this stodgy Anglican – and if you think I’m not stodgy, you’ve never seen me in an evangelical church. I am unable to extract myself from this position: straight as a rod, hands welded to the pew in front of me, looking either straight ahead or down at my feet. I was raised with surplices, incense, and ruffled collars, so I’ll clap during Gospel songs but that’s about it.

What made me think of all of this, though, was one scene which directly relates to our reading today. At the camp during worship, there is a time for the children to offer testimony. Tory the dancer is overcome with sobs. The viewer hears an adult voice murmuring, “Pray it out, Tory, pray it out.” She takes a handheld microphone and, still sobbing, prays that the Lord will break the chains over their nation, raises her fist, and proclaims the lion of Judah over all.

This prayer, which the adults refer to as a prophecy, is accompanied by loud applause and cheers.

It’s a really weird scene. It’s kind of icky…and it’s kind of beautiful.

“I thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and the intelligent and have revealed them to infants; yes, Father, for such was your gracious will.” This section is text was referred to by Canon F.W. Green as “the ecstasy of Jesus.” Today’s reading is quite an old passage. It is echoed in the Gospel of Luke, which means it could be from the elusive and hypothetical Q document from which many scholars believe Matthew, Luke, and the Gospel of Thomas shared content. It may indeed have been a repurposed prophetic utterance from an early Christian community, which were common in the Apostle Paul’s time.

We may not share the same worship traditions as our Pentecostal brothers and sisters, but I pray that we share the same conviction. The people in the film take for granted that those who are seen as small in the eyes of the world are precious to God. They take for granted that those who are seen as of little account will in fact be the ones to usher in the new kingdom of God. What they believe it looks like is also radically different from the kingdom which we proclaim.

We live in a world that is marked by violence and intolerance. Our church is still struggling to understand what it means to follow the cross and give our lives to Christ in this time. It is not easy work, but we must trust. There is little worth doing for the sake of the Gospel that is easy. But our Gospel is the Gospel of love. Our Gospel is the Gospel of hospitality and acceptance. Our Gospel is the Gospel of endless loaves and fish, the Gospel of true strength found in perfect weakness, the Gospel of wealth through kenosis, through pouring out our lives for the sake of the other. Sometimes our Gospel is the Gospel of metanoia, of repentance and transformation, admitting that what we once thought was God’s will was our own.

That is probably the most beautiful Gospel of all, because the resurrection is probably the biggest metanoia of all.

Friends, as we continue our lives in the church, let us never forget what has been revealed to us by the Beloved: no less than God, veiled in flesh once for all, and today clothed in bread and wine, an outward sign of that inward grace. Let us come together here to be baptized with the fire of love.