Say to them, “The Kingdom of God has come near to you.”

Last Sunday I spoke of the current climate in our nation, our state, our culture, a climate of polarization and blame-casting, a climate of divisiveness and extremism. I spoke of the loss of tolerance in our world, our insistence that you are either with us or against us, right or wrong, without any nuances, any of the shadings, any of the patience, the things that are the hallmarks of God’s Kingdom.

Today you could go into most Churches and find ample proof of my theory.

There are two predominant ways of approaching worship on Independence Day in the United States.

The first, and probably the most popular these days, would be to sing the songs which we are singing and then to proclaim that God has blessed America beyond all other nations and that we are the New Israel, we are the Chosen People of God and it is, therefore, our duty to convert the non-Christians of the world, and to wrap the cross, which stands as a major visual statement in the front of our sanctuary, in the flag which stands as a minor visual footnote in the rear.

And I know how to do that.

I am a patriot, I love our country, I respect our systems – military, political and judicial - and the people who serve in them.

My first choice college was the Military Academy at West Point and, although I was not their first choice, I still treasure the memories of going there for interviews and physicals.

I was a US History major in college with a focus on the Civil War and, once upon a time, in a far off place, I made a living teaching 11th graders the great lessons of our American experience.

I know how easy it would be to tug on our patriotic heartstrings and to credit us for all of the world’s greatness. I know that there are many Churches where that is what is happening.

But not here.

And the second predominant way of approaching worship this morning is to take a Prophet’s stand and chastise our nation for the sins that have been ours in our history, the stain of slavery, the genocide aimed at the Native Americans, the greed that created the economic disasters we have known, the abuse of the land, the air, and – quite obviously these days – the waters that surround us.

And I know how to do that.

I am a child of the ‘60s, I saw the hatred that erupted into race riots, I remember when the brightest female students were urged to take steno classes, I saw my generation go to fight a war that no one could explain and the scars remain for those who went and those who didn’t, I cried when I heard of the assassinations of the Kennedys and Dr. King and the shootings at Kent State, I remember the first Earth Day when being a Tree-Hugger was an honor not an insult.

I know how easy it would be to describe our country with academic snobbery and to blame us for all of the worlds ills. I know that there are many Churches where that is what is happening.

But not here.

For here we understand that there are nuances in the scriptures, there are subtleties in the ways that God works, there are things that take time and faith to understand.

My sermons for the entire summer will attempt to expose and explode the false choices that demagogues of all political and religious stripes attempt to force upon us, the artificially urgent either/or decisions, as opposed to the sacredness awareness of the evolutionary both/and possibilities that the God of Creation, Incarnation, and Resurrection gives to us.

And today we start with the false choice of flag or faith.

The story that Luke tells is a story of the role of the Church in the culture, a model of what Jesus had in mind for his followers.

He sends them out to do four things:
To travel together.
To offer peace.
To offer health.
To tell people that “The Kingdom of God has come near to you.”

I want to take a look at those four, but first let me put them in the context of the story of Naaman, the great warrior with leprosy.

This is a story about patriotism, isn’t it?

It is a story about a young slave girl who remains proud of her roots and her people so she speaks up to offer healing.

It is a story about a politician and a soldier, each of whom is deeply devoted to his country and thus unable to see the blessings beyond the borders.

It is a story about a prophet, a man of God, who is able to say to the King “Why are you worried?” and to the warrior, “Will you humble yourself?”

This is how God so often acts in the workings of nations.

The politicians and the warriors strut, they make their stands, they follow their partisan scripts and they are almost unable to see, to admit, to conceive of God’s Kingdom taking precedence over their own earthly empires.

Remember that scene when Christ stood before Pilate and was asked about his kingdom? And he said “My kingdom is not of this world.”

It’s not.

The kingdom of God is not American or Korean or Palestinian or British, the kingdom of God rules over them all and exists within them all.

There are the power people in the stories, the Obamas and the Bushes, the Christies and the Sweeneys, the King and the Warrior from different nations, each suspicious, disrespectful, afraid and disdainful of the other.

And there are the people with whom God works: a slave girl, a group of servants and a crazy old religious guy living out of the spotlight; a carpenter’s son, some fisherman, a tax collector.

The pattern doesn’t change.

The power and glory of the world in the 18th Century was in London and Paris, but in Philadelphia Thomas Jefferson wrote “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.” and the kingdom of God came near.

The power and glory of the nation in the 19th Century was in the hands of the warriors and soldiers when Abraham Lincoln wrote “With malice toward none; with charity for all; with firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in; to bind up the nation's wounds; to care for him who shall have borne the battle, and for his widow, and his orphan...” and the Kingdom of God came near.

The power and glory of our culture in the 20th Century was in the hands of white males when Rosa Parks, who was tired, sat down and the kingdom of God came near.

“The Kingdom of God has come near to you.”

It comes like a breeze on a hot day, you can’t see it, but you can feel it and almost taste it.

It is a breeze that blows in every nation, it knows no boundaries as it brings refreshment and renewal, it the same wind that brooded over the creation scene in Genesis, the same wind that rushed through the streets of ancient Jerusalem, the same wind that you and I know in our most private and sacred moments is there in the pages of history, in every nation, among all people, waiting to be noticed, waiting for our response.

And the breeze calls us, as it called the 70 followers of Jesus, to travel together. When you travel together you learn from each other, the great and artificial separations between races and nations are in large part because we don’t know each other and so we insist, with Naaman that our rivers, our culture, our nation is superior.

And the breeze calls us, as it called the 70 followers of Jesus, to offer peace, not conflict, not criticism, but peace: Shalom is the word and it means a wholeness of life, a health of body and soul and heart and mind that we bring to our relationships.

And the breeze calls us, as it called the 70 followers of Jesus, to offer health, to fix the things that we find that can be fixed, to show each other the small things that make the big things better.

And the breeze calls us, as it called the 70 followers of Jesus, to tell people that “The Kingdom of God has come near to you.”

It has come near to us, in so many ways in our nation, and we have missed it at times, but we miss it in our individual lives, don’t we? How often after someone moves away from us or as we stand at a newly dug grave do we regret the time we didn’t spend together, the words we didn’t say?

The same is true for nations, no matter how many great things we have done, there are always the things we could have and didn’t or the things we did that would have been better not done.

But that doesn’t stop us from those moments when the context of our lives as Americans is elevated by the depth of our faith as Christians.

That is what I celebrate each year on this day.

The story of my life is full of errors and sins and sorrows that have, by the grace of God, been corrected and forgiven and comforted. I haven’t given in to the errors, sins and sorrows, I haven’t surrendered my dreams and visions and high ideals, I haven’t quit trying to live a more perfect life.

And that is our nation’s story as well, we haven’t given in to the errors, sins and sorrows as we continue to seek that “more perfect union” that Jefferson wrote about.

For that we can give thanks.

For that we can continue to pray for God’s perfect blessings upon our remarkably imperfect nation.

For that we can continue to sing:
America, America! God mend thine every flaw,
Confirm thy soul in self control, thy liberty in law.

Say to them, “The Kingdom of God has come near to you.”