A few weeks ago, I had the amazing experience of welcoming
three new children into the body of Christ through baptism. As Episcopalians,
we renew our own baptismal covenant with them as a sign that we are all united
in Christ’s body. That covenant begins with reciting the Apostles Creed and ends with five questions.
Will you continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of bread, and in the prayers?... Will you persevere in resisting evil, and, whenever you fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord? Will you proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ?... Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself?... Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being?”(Book of Common Prayer, 304-305).With each question, the community resounds, “I will with God’s help!” Those questions remind us that daily as Christians, we strive to live this covenant, remembering to strive for justice and peace, remembering to respect the dignity of every human, remembering to love our neighbors as ourselves.
The evening
of the baptism, our youth group continued our study of the Hunger Games. The Hunger
Games, despite it violence, is an excellent teaching on how to remember
that all persons have worth. Katniss remembers that Rue deserves a proper
burial. She refuses to kill her fellow tributes and recognizes them as
individuals, not animals.
As we
look forward to Catching Fire, the
second book in the Hunger Games Trilogy this week, we are reminded Katniss’
love for all people effects those around her. Katniss lives in a world where
the capitol rarely creates relationships with those in the districts. Relationships
between capitol and district citizens are generally reserved for the tributes.
As tributes are prepared for the Hunger Games, they are assigned a vast number
of captiol people to help them prepare – hairdressers, consultants, and trainers.
By the time Katniss Everdeen enters the arena for the second time, these
capital citizens have spent countless hours dinning with her, prepping her, and
talking with her. They have created a relationship with her that mimics friendship
and attachment instead of power and unengagement. As she enters the arena for
the second time, her prep team is an emotional mess. Her character states,
It’s something of a revelation that those in the Capitol feel anything at all about us. They certainly don’t have a problem watching children murdered every year. But maybe they know too much about the victors, especially the ones who’ve been celebrities for ages, to forget we’re more like human beings. It’s more like watching your own friends die. More like the Games are for those of us in the districts.” (Suzanne Collins, Catching Fire, 284-285).
Treating
others with dignity and respect begins with relationship. How often have
ourselves or our families shown disrespect to an entire group of people by
making large sociological generalizations? Then, one day, we form a
relationship with one person and our heart begins to change? We hear ourselves
saying, “Most gay people are weird, but my uncle Bob is the coolest person on
earth.” Or, “All teenagers are rebellious, but my niece Sally is the sweetest
person I know.” Or, “Homeless people are on the street because they don’t work,
but volunteered the other night at a soup kitchen and I met this great guy Tim
who just had some bad luck and is working.” [Insert your own example here.]
Relationships
don’t end with just one person. As we get to know our Bob’s, Sally’s, and Tim’s,
we let them into our hearts and invite them into our homes. In turn, they
invite us into their lives. Suddenly, we find ourselves surrounded at dinner
tables with all sorts of people who were different and unapproachable which now
are loving and wonderful.
I
recently attended the Kentucky Council of Churches Annual Conference. There I
was reminded that not long ago in our nation’s history, Republicans and
Democrats were actual friends. Sure, they engaged in heated debate on the Senate
floor, but then they dined and drank with one another. They talked about their families.
On the floor they disagreed, at the dinner table they harmonized. I wonder how
often that happens now.
I
remember another person who dined with different sorts of people. He ate with
tax collectors, sinners, and prostitutes. He invited the poor, crippled, and
sick to his banquet table. He left us with some fantastic examples of how to
dine with one another and how to respect the worth, dignity, and respect of
all. The last time I checked, his table was still open. The last time I looked
around, there were still all sorts of diverse people sitting there on Sundays. The
last time I read, he still challenged us to do the same.
