A
Meditation on Isaiah 2:1-11
Sunday, November 27, 2016
Dave Grishaw-Jones, Peace United Church
Sunday, November 27, 2016
Dave Grishaw-Jones, Peace United Church
1.
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| Rabbi Heschel |
Advent begins
today with these words of the prophet Isaiah.
“In the days to come, the mountain of Yahweh’s house shall be
established as the highest of the mountains, and shall be raised above the
hills; all the nations shall stream to it.”
Just words, maybe. But words
arouse imagination; and imagination suggests action. “Yahweh shall judge between the nations, and
shall arbitrate for many peoples; they shall beat their swords into
ploughshares, and their spears into pruning hooks...” God’s commitment to human wellbeing, God’s
commitment to many peoples aims to inspire our efforts to heal what’s broken
and repair what’s torn and disfigured in the world. Words arouse imagination; and imagination
suggests action. No, imagination insists
on action, specific action, embodied action, yours and mine and ours. “You shall beat your swords into
ploughshares,” Isaiah pleads, urges, insists, “and your spears into pruning
hooks...”
And neither shall
you learn war, or study war, or invest in war, any more. Pretty specific. And this is how Advent begins. This is the chord the prophet strikes at the
beginning of our new year. And I think
Rabbi Heschel would approve: “Few are guilty, but all are responsible.” Not because responsibility is a curse, and
not because it’s our punishment. But
because God chooses to partner with us in the healing of the nations, in the
blessing of our many differences and dreams.
Our responsibility is our capacity to heal and to bless. It is our ability to respond—see how that
works? response-ability?—to one another, and to God, as partners and friends,
as sisters and brothers, as companions in the great circle of life. You bet, we’re all responsible. That may be the greatest gift of all. “Nation shall not lift up sword against nation,”
Isaiah says, “neither shall they learn war any more.” That’s not just our vision; it’s our
responsibility. And that’s a good thing.
2.
So here’s a story
about responsibility. And it goes back
45 years to the early days of the international movement to end apartheid in
South Africa. In Boston, Caroline Hunter
and Ken Williams were young employees, rising employees, at the Polaroid
Corporation. Caroline Hunter was a
chemist, Ken Williams a photographer; and both were African-American and proud
to have broken through the color barrier in a successful American company. Remember those instamatics?
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| Caroline Hunter, Center |
But in 1971, Caroline Hunter and Ken Williams discovered something about their company that rocked their worlds and changed their lives. They discovered that Polaroid’s instant photograph technology had been sold for profit to the South African regime, and that Polaroid’s technology was the linchpin of apartheid’s passbook system, used to control the movement and advancement of blacks in that racially divided country. For telling that story, they were fired by Polaroid and immediately launched a group called PANIC: People Against National ID Cards. That group quickly exposed Polaroid’s investment in South Africa, and in apartheid, and went on to encourage cities and universities around the world to divest from companies doing business in South Africa and benefiting from the misery of racism and the oppression of so many.
Polaroid was at
the top of that list. And so too was
Hewlett Packard, who sold thousands of computers, even then, to the racist
regime. And you probably know how it was
that that international movement—through boycotts and divestment—helped South
African blacks win their freedom, turn the tide on apartheid and create a new
South Africa for all its citizens. It
began, in many ways, with Caroline Hunter and Ken Williams, two Polaroid
employees in Boston, who figured out how the system worked and risked their
futures to do the right thing. Few are
guilty, right? But all are
responsible.
And that’s what
Isaiah’s talking about, I think, when he calls on folks like you and me — folks
with power and privilege, connected to institutions, sustained by investments;
that’s what he’s talking about when he calls on us to beat our swords into
ploughshares and our spears into pruning hooks. God’s passion for peace can’t be satisfied
with Christmas carols and crèches. God’s
passion for peace insists on partnership and discipleship. And that means—at least this morning, at
least for Isaiah—that means actively transforming war-making technologies into
instruments of justice and peace. Isaiah
couldn’t be much clearer: beat your swords into ploughshares and your spears
into pruning hooks. And if you’re not
breaking a sweat in the process, you’re not doing it right.
3.
Over the next couple
of weeks, you and I have an opportunity to break a sweat of our own and do
something significant. Maybe even
something prophetic. And it builds on
the tradition and legacy of peacemakers like Caroline Hunter and Ken Williams.
The week after
next, our Church Council and Vision Team will vote on a proposal to make Peace
United Church the first Hewlett-Packard-Free congregation in the country. And an example for many others. This proposal has taken shape around two key
events: a United Church of Christ action to divest from the company in 2015 and
our own “Justice for Palestine” conference, right here, last April.
In both settings,
we learned that, like Polaroid in the 70s, Hewlett-Packard profits off the
misery and occupation of a racial minority.
In this case, Palestinians in the Holy Land. We learned that HP develops and maintains a
kind of ‘nervous system’ of state oppression, helping the State of Israel in
its surveillance of Palestinian civilians through sophisticated biometric
technologies and facial recognition equipment.
State-of-the-art stuff, expensive, and for HP, very profitable. We learned that HP’s contracts assist
Israel’s military in its bombing of civilian sites in Gaza. And we learned that HP contracts with two of
the largest Jewish-only illegal settlements in the West Bank. What Polaroid did for South Africa, HP is
doing today for Israel. And then some.
4.
In
the most difficult days of the civil rights movement, Martin Luther King
lamented the American church’s resistance to action and courage. He had especially strong words for white
clergy and white congregations, and for our tendency to talk a good game but
risk very little. “There was a time,”
said Dr. King then, “when the church was not merely a thermometer that recorded
the ideas and principles of popular opinion; it was a thermostat that
transformed the mores of society.” You
see the difference? Between a
thermometer and a thermostat?
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| Daoud Nasser, Tent of Nations |
Right now, I’m
thinking of the brave Palestinian and Israeli peacemakers we’ve hosted—right
here in this sanctuary—over many years. They
urged us, every one; they urged us to be a thermostat, not a thermometer. I’m thinking of Daoud Nasser, the Palestinian
Christian, the farmer who endures weekly threats to his and his family’s safety
and regular raids by settlers who burn his trees and menace his property. I’m thinking of Issa Amro, the Palestinian
Muslim, the nonviolent activist who was here among us just last month, and who
this week stands trial for simply calling out Israeli soldiers and settlers for
intimidation and violence in his city of Hebron. I’m thinking of Israeli Professor Ilan Pappé—an eloquent and daring Jewish academic—who spoke at our
conference last April, and Israeli peace activist Nomika Zion who insists on
honoring her Palestinian neighbors in spite of the bombs that fly out of Gaza
toward her home. All of these folks have
stood right here, where I stand this morning, and asked for our help, asked for
our companionship, asked for our courage.
I’m
thinking of them now, all of them, Daoud and Issa and Ilan and Nomika. And I’m wondering if perhaps the same spirit
that moved in Isaiah, twenty-eight centuries ago, isn’t moving in them today. Beat your swords into ploughshares, they
say. Beat your spears into pruning
hooks. Risk something for love. Risk something for justice. Risk something for us, they say. This initiative—this HP-FREE initiative—is something
we can do. A faithful response and an
act of peace.
Friends,
is this the only justice issue of consequence in our community? Of course, not. In the disorienting aftermath of this month’s
election, we know what’s ahead of us.
And we know what’s at stake.
Immigrants are at risk. Climate
change is at a tipping point. A woman’s
right to choose. Safety for Muslim
friends and LGBT friends. All of this is
up for us. And Standing Rock. And Black Lives Matter.
But I
want to say this carefully. In a church
like this, in a community like ours, we cannot afford to be timid. We are so privileged, and in so many ways,
that we sometimes worry about sticking our necks out, about taking on the role
of the thermostat in important issues of the day. We worry about offending some, about miscalculating
impacts, about making mistakes. But we
cannot afford to be timid. Jesus didn’t
come to make us timid.
So again
this morning, I hear Isaiah. And again,
I hear Daoud and Issa, and I hear Ilan and Nomika and so many others. And I hear so many prophets—Jewish and
Christian and Muslim—crying out to the church, crying out to you and to me. Beat your swords into ploughshares, they
say. Beat your spears into pruning
hooks. Don’t be too timid. And don’t be too sweet. Do you hear them too? Daoud and Issa; Ilan and Nomika; Caroline
Hunter and Ken Williams; Abraham Joshua Heschel and Martin Luther King. Risk something for love, they say. Risk something for justice. Risk something for peace. Risk something for us, they say.
And
we will. Because few are guilty, as the
old rabbi said, but all are responsible.
Few are guilty, but all of us, all of us are responsible.
And
that’s good news.
