Outside Looking In

            One of the persistent threads running through the tapestry of our Scriptures is God’s concern for the outsider.  Whether the poorer, the minority, the unprotected by social structures, the stranger, the person outside the mainstream is our concern as faithful followers of God.  It is more than mere, passing, “concern,” for in many places scholars have called it God’s preferential option for the outsider.  Many of the Hebrew laws protect and give a hand up to the least of our neighbors.  The poor are given religious legal protections and special provisions for their survival, like the right of gleaning fields.  Time and again Israel is reminded to take care of the fatherless and the orphan and the widow, a really big deal in patriarchal society.  Jesus continues that prophetic strain that those who are in good conditions are obligated to help and protect those in difficult circumstances.  Similarly, Jesus points to the faith of non-Jews who come to him, like in this week’s Gospel tale.  Jesus was in many ways himself an outsider— not really having a fixed home, a refugee child in infancy, on the outskirts of the religious establishment, working class, hanging around with the rougher corners of society.

            This week seems to me filled with tales of the outsiders.  Religious minorities are fleeing genocide from ISIS.  Persons of color are reacting to systemic racism from police and government and media who tend to see matters from the top instead of from the middle of the problem or from the ground level.  Employees of major corporations are outsiders peering in at the highly paid managers who give them little mind.  Rural communities find their needs and funding missing in the broader political conversation.

            And the death this week of Robin Williams has resurfaced the perspective and pain of those living with mental illness and brain disorders and emotional problems.  I am saddened by the death of someone whose performances and comedy meant so much to me.  I am somewhat reassured that much of the reaction to Williams’ death has been a humane and thoughtful discussion of the hard work involved in coping with depression (and other conditions).  I am, of course, troubled by the heartless, stupid, hurtful, uncaring, misguided, and damaging things written and posted and said.

            Even some things meant as supportive are unhelpful and hurtful.  Way too many are said by good-hearted religious people who don’t necessarily have a clue or treat depression and suicidality (in William’s case) as merely spiritual or volitional or evidence of less faith.  Well-meaning people trying to reassure others that God “forgives” people who die of suicide actually miss the mental health point by mislabeling it as sin, even if “forgiven.”  Makes me sad, actually.

            Those living with any of the complex mental health conditions and those living with them generally feel like outsiders and outcasts.  The secondary stigma is often worse than the psychological or physical problems, and it is that which leads people to feel like outsiders.  If not actually being marginalized by too many of us who are uncomfortable with what they live with.

            Reading so much in the last week about the shooting in Ferguson, the Ebola outbreak in Liberia, the violence in Syria and Iraq, the civil war in Ukraine is painful.  The posts supporting those dealing with mental illness are both heart-breaking and heart-warming, for the online world can provide a safe place for those who feel outside to be supported and included.

            Mercifully, our theology gives us a way to work our way back from platitudes to being true neighbors and helpers.  The familiar UCC concept of “welcome” is an antidote to treating others as outsiders.  It is how we can bring someone in from outside (not just from outdoors but from spiritual and psychological and social exile) inside, into the “us” which is Christ’s church.  It takes work, certainly, for us to learn how to recognize people who feel they are outsiders, and it take work learning the right words and gentle approach to extend a welcoming (non-threatening) hand, and it takes work to be patient enough to hold that hand outstretched for the sometimes long time needed to develop trust, and it takes work to learn enough about our selves and our neighbors.  Yet it is worth doing for the sake of our sisters and brothers (and because some of those who feel themselves outsiders are, in truth, our sisters and brothers and parents and children and relatives and neighbors and coworkers and friend and dear ones).

            We are called to be the friends and advocates of the outsiders, the victims of gun violence, of racism casual or systemic, the addicted, the abused, the abuser, the persons in conflicts within their own minds, the different, the outsider.  We are called to treat everyone like Jesus loved everyone.  It’s as easy and as hard as that.

            Please, O loving savior, grant that we will walk out from our comfortable places to stand with the outsider long and kindly enough that they will feel safe coming inside to live in your love.

                                                                              In Christ,
                                                                           
                                                                                David

Texts for Sunday
      From the Hebrew Bible        Genesis 45:1-15
      From the Epistles                Romans 11:1-2, 29-32
      From the Gospels                Matthew 15:10-28