The Harvest is Plentiful; the Laborers are…Who?

Holy One, may the words of my mouth and the meditations of all of our hearts be acceptable in your sight, Amen.

O God, whose Name is excellent in all the earth, and thy glory above the heavens, who as on this day didst inspire [and] direct the hearts of our delegates in Congress, to lay the perpetual foundations of peace, liberty, and safety; we bless and adore thy glorious Majesty, for this thy loving kindness and providence.

This is the first sentence of a Prayer of Thanksgiving on the occasion of an annual church observance of Independence Day, proposed in 1786 for inclusion in the first Book of Common Prayer of the Episcopal Church. “Proposed” is the operative term here. Presiding Bishop William White opposed the observance, arguing that, since many Episcopal clergy, now formerly of the Church of England, had been on the side of the Tories, they would lose all credibility if they were forced to preside at an Independence Day service. White wrote: “The greater stress is laid on this matter because of the notorious fact, that the majority of the clergy could not have used the service, without subjecting themselves to ridicule and censure.”

Or, as we might put it today: “Too soon.”

So the Independence Day observance was axed from the 1789 Book of Common Prayer, not to be seen again until the 1928 revision. 

Independence Day is one of two national observances in the BCP, the other one being Thanksgiving. Why? Because our church recognizes national life as part of church life, and vice versa; not inextricably entwined like the established Church of England, and not in the way White Christian Nationalists envision the United States as a Christian nation—which it never has been in spite of those who say otherwise. No, our church observes two national days because of a sense of gratitude and responsibility that is part of our Christian identity; gratitude for God’s gifts, and responsibility to use them rightly as citizens and neighbors, respecting the dignity of all.

The current Collect for Independence Day that we will hear shortly reads in part, “…Grant that we and all the people of this land may have grace to maintain our liberties in righteousness and peace…”

All the people. Grace to maintain our liberties. In righteousness and peace.

Never has this prayer been more needed than it is now. 

So, is this to be a sermon or a lament? 

Yes.

In July of 1852 abolitionist and former slave Frederick Douglass delivered a barnburner of a speech best known for its signature question, “What, to the slave, is the Fourth of July?” In heartbreaking detail Douglass laid out the tension between the celebration of American independence and the ongoing reality of chattel slavery. His lament honored the Founders’ accomplishments while noting the irony of continuing to deny the blessings of freedom to the enslaved. 

Of the celebration of American independence he writes: “I am not included within the pale of this glorious anniversary! … The blessings in which you, this day, rejoice, are not enjoyed in common. The rich inheritance of justice, liberty, prosperity and independence, bequeathed by your fathers, is shared by you, not by me. The sunlight that brought life and healing to you, has brought stripes and death to me. This Fourth July is yours, not mine. … To drag a man in fetters into the grand illuminated temple of liberty, and call upon him to join you in joyous anthems, were inhuman mockery and sacrilegious irony.”

Reading these words and looking through Douglass’ lens at the perilous state of our 249 year American experiment, I wonder, what is the irony in these days of celebrating freedom in the face of the cruel policies and legislation that render vulnerable, and in some cases literally deny freedom to so many of our neighbors? (“Alligator Alcatraz”—seriously?) We are a country that is straying farther and farther from the ideals for which our Founders fought and died; ideals that Frederick Douglass still believed, after all, that we may still aspire to. 

Ideals that, as Christian citizens–as the church–we are called to uphold as part of our Baptismal Covenant.

So, what, to the person of color and the descendent of the enslaved, is the Fourth of July?

What, to the immigrant and their children is the Fourth of July?

What, to the LGBTQ+ persons and those who love them is the Fourth of July?

What, to the poor, the sick, the unemployed, the marginalized, the unhoused, the vulnerable, is the Fourth of July, a day that has morphed into a celebration of freedom for only the wealthy and powerful at the top of the food chain?

And as for we who are privileged, whose hearts are still capable of being broken and stunned by what we are seeing; these imperiled children of God may simply look at us and say, “Welcome to our world.” For so many of them, this is not new.

Douglass’ lament did not spare the church; He eviscerated the mostly mainline white churches who had stood silently, complicitly and complacently by while enslaved children of God were bought, sold, and abused. His words remain a clarion call to the church of today to live into the Gospel’s imperative of freedom for all; to remember that until everyone is free, no one is free.

So, as the Body of Christ that aspires not to Christian Nationalism but to Beloved Community, what does Jesus tell us in today’s Gospel?

“See, I am sending you out like lambs into the midst of wolves. “

Two by two. No food, no money, no shoes. The disciples would enter each community completely vulnerable; hungry, with sore feet, and no place to stay. Strangers, like their ancestors in Egypt. Completely reliant upon the hospitality (or not) of the homes that they approached, bearing a gift of healing, peace, and the Good News to anyone who welcomed them, and moving on from anyone who didn’t.

The Dream of God unfolds in the presence of relationships such as these; in mutual vulnerability, in the giving and receiving of hospitality, in healing presence, and in the offering of God’s peace.

See! The Dream of God has come near.

The messengers were called by Jesus to trust, at a time when trustworthiness could be hard to come by. They were called to the work of proclaiming a vision of a world turned right-side up in a time when occupying Empire and even the religious authorities silenced any talk of liberation and justice for the marginalized. The seventy were truly like sheep among the wolves of oppression and status quo, and carrying nothing but their faithfulness to Jesus, their trust in God’s lovingkindness, and their yearning for the unfolding Kingdom.

Faithfulness. Trust. Yearning.

This is the light burden that Jesus offers to each of us in these days, and with it the task of reclaiming the meaning of freedom to which our beloved country’s founders aspired. The late congressman John Lewis—of “good trouble” fame—said, “Freedom is not a state; it is an act… Freedom is the continuous action we all must take, and each generation must do its part to create an even more fair, more just society.”

And what is the church’s foundation for this task?

Do we believe, as is written in Genesis, that all are created in the image and likeness of God, no exceptions?

Do we believe, as Paul wrote in his letter to the Galatians, that we are all one in Christ Jesus and not meant to marginalize and separate ourselves into Us vs. Them?

Do we believe, as is written in Exodus, that the God of liberation hears the cries of the oppressed and frees them?

Do we believe, as is written in Matthew’s Gospel, that in serving the most vulnerable we are serving Jesus himself?

Do we believe, as is written in Luke’s Gospel, that everyone is our neighbor and our responsibility, not just those who are like us and live near us?

Do we believe as is written all over the place in Scripture that we are to care for the orphan, the widow, the sick, and the stranger among us?

Yes? Then we have all we need to confront the wolves that would devour true freedom for all of God’s creatures. The harvest is plentiful; the laborers are…us. Amen.