Refugees Like Us--September 10, 2021

Refugees Like Us--September 10, 2021

"All of these died in faith without having received the promises, but from a distance they saw and greeted them. They confessed that they were strangers and foreigners on the earth, for people who speak in this way make it clear that they are seeking a homeland.  If they had been thinking of the land that they had left behind, they would have had opportunity to return. But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one.  Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God; indeed, he has prepared a city for them." [Hebrews 11:13-16]

Somewhere along the way, we forgot who we were, who we still are. Somewhere along the way, the followers of Jesus forgot that we are resident aliens, non-citizens, in the places where we live.

Funny, in that narrow way that things can be both awful and funny at the same time, how easy it can be for respectable religious folks to want to be gatekeepers and bouncers for other refugees and aliens, when the Bible itself has been telling us for two millennia now that we are people without papers here in the world. We are aliens. We are not meant to be at home under the rule of Caesars and Nebuchadnezzars. And that also means we should recognize ourselves as living as foreigners dependent on the hospitality of others around us, because this is not our home.

Now, that kind of talk can be misused. It can be co-opted to sound holier-than-thou, and it often has been--like Christians are in an exclusive club and can look down on the rest of the world. It can sound like Christians are use biding their time to get to some ethereal afterlife rather than living where we are and caring about hungry people, excluded people, justice, and reconciliation now. It can sound like sentimental religious escapism.

But that misses the way the Scriptures really teach us exiles to live. When it was the people of Israel/Judah who had been conquered and taken into exile in Babylon, the word from the Lord was "Seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you," which is to say, "seek the welfare of Babylon." The message was that wherever God's people go, we are to be a presence for good, a presence of graciousness in a graceless age. The message was that God's people are to seek the benefit of others exactly because we know that this is where we live our days until that great promised homecoming.

The Jewish exiles in Babylon were called to be good neighbors, just and fair in their business dealings even with the Babylonian citizens next door, and not to resort to violence or hate because they were forced to live under the rule of a pagan egocentric nut-job like Nebuchadnezzar. They were called to be good, but not to ever fall for the official Babylonian party line about how great life was going to be in Babylon, and never to put their trust in the powers of the day. That is what kept the exiles on solid footing, and it was what kept their minds and hearts free: Babylon may have won the day when they captured Jerusalem, but they could not capture the allegiance of the people who were conquered. If your heart belongs to the homeland that is waiting and promised to you, you will not be fooled into giving it away to the powers of the day.

The New Testament borrows all of this imagery to talk about our presence in the world as the followers of Jesus. We are aliens, too. We are called always to work for the good of all around us, but we are called to do it with an eye toward our promised future. And so we will live now according to the constitution of God's Reign, rather than settling for the ways of whatever places we find ourselves in. So, for example: in God's promised future, swords are beaten into plowshares and wolves and lambs lie down together--and so, in light of our promised homecoming, we are called right now, in this life, not to be people of violence but people of mercy. In the Jesus Administration, there is enough for all, and you know who is the greatest, not because they have to toot their own horns and say it about themselves, but because they are the ones washing feet, wiping tears, and taking the lepers and outcasts by the hand.  In the Jesus administration, we know that we are refugees in the world, and so we are called to practice empathy and to do all we can to help welcome and shelter the refugees who come to our doors, our neighborhoods, and our country.  In days like these, when there are an awful lot of folks who had to leave their lives behind in Afghanistan, for example, or who have been displaced by Hurricane Ida even just within the United States, the writer of Hebrews reminds us to see ourselves in their faces--and to care for them the same way we want others to care for us since we are refugees in the world, too.  Care for other refugees in the world is part of our spiritual DNA as Christians, because know what it is like (at least we are supposed to) to be longing for a homeland while seeking the good of the places where we are right now.

The world will see all of that behavior, and it won't make sense to them. Nebuchadnezzar thought his greatness was measurable in his gold-embossed towers, portraits, and statues. Caesar thought he was lord of the world while a homeless baby was born to two refugees and laid in a food trough, but the baby turned out to be none other than God-in-the-flesh. The followers of Jesus are called to be people who stand out because we live now like life will be in the full Reign of God. We will keep giving ourselves to making "the city where God has sent us" better and better, but we will not let ourselves get entitled into thinking that Babylon will give us a prize for doing it. And we will not simply let ourselves look backward to some mythical time in the past--as Hebrews says, if we "had been thinking of the land they had left behind they would have had opportunity to return." For the followers of Jesus, the homeland we are seeking is not in the past--not in the 1950s, not in the 1960s, and not in the '70s, '80s, '90s, or first decade and a half of the 21st century. We aren't looking to recreate something--we are living now like we will in God's promised future, not a religious nostalgic past. That promised future is our home--right smack dab the middle of God's love.

When I hear these words from Hebrews, I hear the in the voice of the late songwriter Leonard Cohen.  In particular, I hear it echoing a line from his well-loved, "Anthem," comes to mind: every heart, every heart to love will come, but like a refugee." That's us. We are refugees. And because we have been found by Love, we live differently now even before we arrive in our home country. Because in a sense, everywhere Love goes, we are at home.

Lord Jesus, let us live now in light of the promised day when your grace wins and fills all in all.