Sanctuary

 

(Scriptures:       Esther 7:1-10, 9:20-22; James 5:13-20; Mark 9:38-50)

Many of you likely have either read Victor Hugo’s book The Hunchback of Notre Dame, or seen one of its movie adaptations, perhaps the old black and white version with Charles Laughton in the title role.  The horribly deformed title character, Quasimodo, with very few exceptions spends his life within the walls of the Cathedral of Notre Dame, rarely venturing beyond the walls of the cathedral, until he falls in love with the beauty of the Gypsy girl Esmerelda.  At a climactic scene, when Esmerelda is threatened with execution, Quasimodo swoops in as her protector, rescues her and carries her into the church, crying “Sanctuary! Sanctuary!”  For it was the law of the time that even fugitives from the law could seek sanctuary in a house of worship, and their right to safety within the walls of the church was recognized.  This tradition goes back even further, to the book of Numbers, 35^th chapter, when the Levites were commanded to establish six cities of refuge, where even a murderer could flee to safety.  Perhaps it’s worth mentioning that Cain, the first murderer in the Bible, is also said to have established the first city, Enoch, named after his son.  Whether it was a city of refuge, we are not told, though Cain himself was marked in such a way that he would remain unharmed.

The book of Esther, from which our Old Testament reading is taken, is an unusual book in the Bible, for several reasons.   First, it’s one of very few – Ruth is the only other one that comes to my mind, and there’s also the book of Judith in the apocrypha – that’s named for a woman.  In a patriarchal culture, for a sacred text to be named after a woman, for a woman to play a leading role in part of the drama of salvation, is a rare occurrence.  It’s also notable that in the book of Esther, the God of Israel is never explicitly mentioned.  The book was written during the time of the exile, and perhaps the writer thought it prudent to keep his theology between the lines of the book, rather than stating it explicitly.  And yet divine providence, and divine care for the chosen people, even when in exile, runs between every line of the book. 

For those who aren’t familiar with the book of Esther – which is likely most of us – here’s the Cliff Notes version, and I’ll be leaving out quite a bit of good reading, so I’d encourage you to read the whole book; it’s not that long, only 10 chapters, and chapter 10 is only about a paragraph long.  But anyway, here’s the Cliff Notes:  We’re told that King Ahasuerus, king of the Persian empire, rules all the area between India and Ethiopia, and is fabulously rich.  He gives a fabulous banquet for all his officials, and after he’s had a few cups of wine too many, he commands his wife, Vashti, to “display her beauty” – i.e. make a spectacle of herself – in front of all the kings officials.  The queen refuses, creating a national crisis – for, as the king’s rather overreactive officials warn, if the Queen Vashti gets away with disobeying the king, it’ll set a bad example and housewives everywhere will disobey their husbands.  So Vashti is sent packing, and peace is restored.

Except that the king misses Vashti, and is lonely.  The king’s officials – the ones who created the problem in the first place by sending Vashti away – convinced the king to hold a sort of royal beauty contest, with the prize, essentially, to be….the king. (Oh goody!) Esther is a Jewish exile, watched over by her uncle Mordecai.  Esther’s beauty attracts notice, and she is brought before the king along with many other beautiful women. Mordecai, her uncle, had counseled her not to tell the king she was Jewish.  Esther proves to be the fairest of them all, and is made queen.  Mordecai later falls foul of one of the king’s officials, Haman, and Haman reacts by plotting the death, not only of Haman, but of all the Jewish people.  Haman tells the king that the Jews, while living in the king’s empire, had different customs from others of the king’s subjects, and did not obey the king’s laws – and the king gives Haman permission to do what he wants.  (One of the secondary themes of the story of Esther, and the source of much of its humor, is that the king and his advisors come across as a bunch of buffoons, wildly overreacting at the slightest provocation.)  Mordecai catches wind of the plot and implores Esther to go to the king, saying, in one of the few indirect references to God in the book:  “If you keep silence at such a time as this, relief and deliverance will rise for the Jews from another quarter, but you and your father’s family will perish.  Who knows? Perhaps you have come to royal dignity for just such as time as this.”  Esther foils the plot by going to the king, revealing that she herself is a Jew, and revealing Haman’s treachery.  The king orders Haman’s execution, and grants sanctuary to the Jewish exiles living in his kingdom.  This story forms the basis for the Jewish festival of Purim, which is still celebrated to this day.  This festival fits the explanation I was once told for the meaning of Jewish festivals:  (1) They tried to kill us; (2) We won; (3) Let’s eat!

When we as present-day readers encounter the book of Esther, the story has a feeling of “once upon a time….” – something that happened long ago and far away, not relevant to our lives.  And yet, beyond the specifics of the story, the broader themes – God’s people living in exile among those of differing beliefs, wicked people in high places spreading lies and slander about a vulnerable minority, the needs of vulnerable minorities for safe space and supportive allies – are very much with us today.  In some cases, the Jews are still the subject of slander – on some disreputable corners of the internet, you can still find stories blaming everything that’s wrong with the world on conspiracies involving the Jews – or perhaps specific Jewish families such as the Rothschilds – along with the Pope and Vatican hierarchy, the Freemasons, the Trilateral Commission, and all manner of other groups who, in real life, would likely never be found in the same room together. 

But even those who don’t go in for elaborate conspiracy theories can give in to plain old fashioned bigotry.   We remember that Jews were not the only folks persecuted by Hitler – communists, socialists, members of trade unions, gypsies, gay men and lesbians, Jehovah’s witnesses, and a variety of other disfavored groups were persecuted, arrested, killed – including German pastor Dietrich Bonhoeffer, so Christians were not safe either.   You may remember the words of Pastor Martin Neimoller:

            First they came for the communists,

            and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a communist.

            Then they came for the socialists,

            and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a socialist.

            Then they came for the trade unionists,
            and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a trade unionist.

            Then they came for me,
            and there was no one left to speak for me.

There are many today who would rattle off a similar list of folks to blame for the problems of today’s world, adding racial and ethnic minorities, Muslims, and immigrants to the top of the list.  For politicians seeking election or re-election, rattling off a list of all the world’s problems and blaming them on some disfavored group – pointing the finger and saying, “It’s all their fault!” - is an easy way to get supporters to the polls.  And Christians – good church folk – can get caught up in this sort of thinking as well.

For Quasimodo as he sought to save Esmerelda, the cathedral was a place of sanctuary.  And the church today is called to be sanctuary, safe space, as well.  Indeed, our worship space is called “the sanctuary”  Some churches refer to it as the “nave”, which comes from the same word from which we get the word navy – and the church has often been compared to Noah’s ark, a place of safety for all kinds of critters amid the world’s storm and tempest.  The emphasis of the United Church of Christ on inclusion – various resolutions of the national setting of the church have urged local congregations to be united and uniting, working for justice and peace, a church that is multi-racial/multicultural, open and affirming to sexual minorities, and accessible to all, including persons with physical and mental challenges – these commitments are often criticized by outsiders as political correctness, but really it’s about calling the church to act like the church – which, among other things, means offering safe space in the name of Jesus Christ for all sorts and conditions of persons – sort of like Noah herding two of every critter into the ark.  Some churches – United Church of Christ and others – have made a very strong commitment to providing sanctuary to undocumented aliens, thus living out the command from God to the ancient Israelites to care for the stranger and alien, for the chosen people themselves had once been aliens enslaved in a strange land.  In the 1980’s, churches in the Sanctuary Movement provided safe havens for refugees from war-torn Central America.  Today, churches in the New Sanctuary Movement provide shelter and advocacy for undocumented aliens and their families threatened with deportation.

Our congregation may or may not feel a call to get involved in various sanctuary movements – though if we do have anything in abundance to offer, it’s meeting space.  But never doubt that God can bring great things out of small congregations like ours.  When I was in Cuba, one of the churches I visited was the First Baptist Church of Matanzas.  The church dates from 1899, and worships in a large building, constructed long before the Castro Revolution.  Currently it’s a sort of sanctuary for artists and creative folk of many types – in fact, First Baptist is where I purchased the small crosses that some of you got, along with the large banner on our lectern.  But First Baptist wasn’t always such a thriving place.  Immediately after the triumph of the Castro revolution, many pastors fled for America, leaving their flocks behind with no one to lead them.  The Castro government in those early years could be quite hostile to the churches, though they later became more open to working with churches rather than against them.  We were told that during those very difficult early years, the pastor of First Baptist Church of Matanzas, like many pastors, had fled for America.  The congregation had dwindled to a little group of six or seven women, all middle-aged or older.  Since there was no pastor, there were no sermons and no sacraments.  But the women continued to meet together, to sing the hymns they remembered and to pray.  They met together and did this Sunday after Sunday, week after week, month after month, for years on end, until decades later, at long last conditions gradually became more favorable for the churches.  We’re talking about a period from the early 1960’s to the late 1980’s.  And this little cluster of women kept First Baptist open. For this little cluster of women, First Baptist church was a sanctuary from the revolution going on outside.  And because of the faithful persistence of this little group of women, the church was kept open and is now a flourishing, lively sanctuary for a new generation of worshippers creating beautiful works of art like this banner – and in the process, discovering anew what it is to be disciples of Jesus Christ.

“Lord prepare us to be a sanctuary….”  May Emanuel Church be a place of sanctuary and safety, as we remember the sanctuary that God has provided to us through Jesus Christ, who at the cross created a place of sanctuary for us, who goes to prepare a place of sanctuary for us, so that where he is, we may be also.  Lord, prepare us to be a sanctuary for all who come seeking you.  In Jesus’ name, may it be so. Amen.