Sermons
A Message by the Rev. Harvey G. Throop
Palisades Presbyterian Church
San Diego, California
September 13 , 2009
Resident Aliens
(1 Peter 2:9-12)
“But our citizenship is in heaven…”
(Philippians 3:20)
The rule of proper social etiquette suggests that in small groups we never talk about politics or religion. Of course, if people didn't talk politics, there wouldn't be much conversation, so we talk a lot about politics, but seldom do we ever talk about our religious beliefs. In fact, some among us may be so hesitant even to acknowledge our faith in settings outside of the church that some of our co-workers and neighbors may not even know that we are Christians, let alone Presbyterians. Of course, in my own experience as a clergyman, things are a bit different.
One of the common exchanges when we are making small talk in an effort to get to know someone is to ask, "What do you do for a living?"
Now when I am asked that, as at some kind of social event and I respond, "I am a Presbyterian pastor,” the conversation oftentimes goes in one of two directions. The first direction is nowhere, because the person to whom I have just revealed myself suddenly becomes desperately in need of another drink and heads off to the bar.
The second direction the conversation may head is to focus on extremely conservative religious points of view, of which my new acquaintance is either absolutely convinced are necessary to save the world or, on the other hand, absolutely convinced that such views will bring an end to civilization. That's when I begin thinking that I need another drink!
In situations like that, as well as at certain others, I begin feeling as if I am a “resident alien” in my own land. Who I am and what I believe seems to be "foreign" to so many others. I think this is the way many who call themselves “Christians” also feel about faith and practice, which explains why, sometimes, we don't make the links between Sunday morning and the rest of the week very well. There does seem to be some kind of distance, if not alienation, between what we believe as Christians and the way we live it out in the "real world." There are several reasons for this.
First, of course, is the declining influence of Christianity in our country. This isn't the 1950's anymore when by definition, being an American also meant being actively religious. Those were the days of "civil religion" when Christians, and particularly main line Protestants, openly connected their faith practices with their daily lives and vocations. That was then, of course, and this is now and things are very different.
We are also alienated in cultural ways. Think how in public school teaching, for example, little, if any, reference can be made to God or to the Bible or to the influence of Christianity on Western civilization and the American experience.
So Christians like you and me, who are neither far right nor far left theologically, wonder if we really do have a place here. After all, it seems the only newsworthy religious stories we hear any more are about far-right evangelicals on the one extreme or radical liberals on the other extreme.
So where do people like us, who still believe that the Bible is the "rule of faith and practice," and who still believe that truth is to be found within its pages, stand? It feels like we truly are “resident aliens” at times, doesn't it? Or as Christian writer, Will Willimon, has referred to the church -- a "colony of refugees."
So here we are in the 21 st century feeling alienated and isolated because of what we believe. As a result, we mute our expressions of faith so that the distance between what we believe and how it relates to the way we live grows farther and farther apart until we begin to wonder if faith has any meaning at all. This is not only where you and I find ourselves, but this is the same place Christians found themselves at the end of the first century.
The Letter of First Peter was written to the Christians in Asia Minor , in what is modern day Turkey, around 90 AD. The church there was a small minority, comprised primarily of working class people and slaves. Many were immigrants from Palestine, part of the Jewish Diaspora following the destruction of the temple in Jerusalem in 70. While many had lived more than a generation in the area, Jews, including Christians, were not very popular. Gentile Christians made up a growing part of the church and though they may have been native to the area, they were unlikely to be citizens of Rome and therefore were considered “resident aliens.”
The label “resident alien,” at first applied to Christians by the society and culture, was adapted by the author of First Peter symbolically and spiritually (see 1 Peter 2:11). Not only are the followers of Jesus geographical and political aliens, but also spiritually, they are “resident aliens” in the world. After all, as the Apostle Paul wrote to the Philippians, “Our citizenship is in heaven” (see Philippians 3:20).
But we live here. We are neither tourists just passing through nor are we those who feel totally at home in this world. We are, as the New Testament writers call us, “Resident aliens” (see Acts 7:6).
In a world where the state was worshipped and the poor were exploited and oppressed, in a world where lies and deceit were a part of doing business, the members of the early church were called by Peter not to get too comfortable. They were to be in the world but not of the world.
The Letter of First Peter opens by referring to Christians there as sojourners, aliens, and strangers -- indicating that they felt some kind of disconnect with the society in which they lived. They felt that because of their faith, they were exiles in their own land. And yet, they believed that being Christians did, in fact, make a difference for them. But living out that new life was proving to be very difficult. Any radical departure from the social norm by them was not conducive to their long-term survival. To some degree, they had to compromise and fit in.
And so, like us, they had a choice. Were they to attempt to remain faithful by withdrawing from society and neither influencing it nor being influenced by it? Or were they to become engaged in the world and, thereby, make their faith stronger? The bottom line of the message of this letter comes down to this: "Their alienation became a mark of faithfulness."
In his letter about which we are thinking today, Peter gives recommendations on how to be faithful even when feeling like aliens living in a less than welcoming culture. He writes: “Love one another, be hospitable without complaining, be good stewards of the manifold grace of God, serve others using the gifts God gave each of us, and in all things, glorify God” (see 1 Peter 4:8-11).
Now I don't know how you react to that list, but my first reaction is like my reaction to those TV advertisements for the latest piece of equipment that will provide me with an amazingly lean and muscular body. They make it sound so easy and simple, stress-free and without any sense of discipline or sacrifice. We all know that getting the bodies we want, just like having the faith we want, does not come that easy.
As I look over the list we are given in First Peter , two of the items drew my attention: “serving one another and glorifying God using the gifts we have been given.” These commands seem to require us to do some self-study and then engage others and the wider world.
The letter refers to "stewards" who, as you know, are “responsible for things of value belonging another.” As I have thought about stewards and stewardship, I have come to think that in many instances, the titles "steward" and "disciple" are interchangeable. “Stewardship” and "discipleship" are often one and the same thing. Perhaps the primary difference is that by definition, to be a disciple means that one is a student who is to learn from another, while a steward should already know some things so as to manage well.
But both the steward's and the disciple's roles require allegiance to One who is greater than they. When the two roles are combined, we have an inquisitive yet informed, committed and responsible person. Isn't that who each of us wants to be? We want to connect our beliefs with our actions. We want to shape our lives by a purpose greater than our own self-interest.
People of faith want to live faith not sporadically or once in a while, but rather in all of their relationships. We want our faith to help "get us through" whatever challenges we face and to be a source of strength in times of trial and trouble.
But we also want a faith that enables us to help make the world better. We want to connect Sunday with Monday at the office, with Tuesday evening at the school, with the Wednesday night card game, with Thursday's political rally, with Friday's paycheck and Saturday with the family.
This is the essence of discipleship -- trusting our lives to God, responding to God's claim on our lives, and taking the risk of being a faithful disciple in a culture such as ours at a time such as this.
This is where Peter's words speak clearly to us. Peter reminds us to be heroes in little things … in little ways. Live in harmony with one another, be sympathetic, love as brothers and sisters, and be compassionate and humble. Do not repay evil with evil or insult with insult, but with blessing because to this you were called.
If we choose to take that risk, what do we get out of it? We get a faith that gives our lives meaning and purpose, a faith that empowers us to make a difference in the world: a difference for us, a difference for others and for God.
Now that is a kind of faith worth talking about!
