Homily from the Rev. Marion E. Kanour

Guest post from The Rev. Marion E. Kanour  preached at Emmanuel on July 6,  20245

“He said to them, ‘The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few…’” ~an excerpt from Luke 10:1-11, 16-20

Today we see Jesus sending out seventy of his followers to heal the sick and to tell folks the kingdom of God has come near. Travel lightly; stay where they’ll receive you; leave where you’re not welcome; always greet people in peace. Change the world by your presence. Our baptismal vows call us to do just that—to change the world by persevering in resisting evil, by seeking to serve Christ in all persons and loving our neighbors as ourselves, by striving for justice and peace among all people and respecting the dignity of every human being. Those are the vows we reaffirm every so often in Episcopal churches throughout our country. We promise, as baptized Christians, to work to do all of those things, with God’s help, just as those 35 pairs of disciples in today’s gospel do. Our baptismal covenant doesn’t mention political party affiliation, because the vows are non-partisan. We may disagree about how to live into those vows, but the vows themselves are meant for all followers of Jesus.
Today, during this weekend celebrating our independence from the oppressive rule of a monarchy, it seems we’re once again at a tipping point in our nation. As baptized Christians, we’re called to respond. Our participation in the Disciples Kitchen ministry, the Rockfish Gap Food Pantry and the Crozet Cares Closet are all programs responding to those in need. Are we called to other responses? It’s not just my question; it’s our shared question, as we continue to strive to be the body of Christ in today’s world.

If Ethel Mae Matthews were here this morning, she could preach that message better than I. She lived her faith with a fierce passion that scared off most anyone who tried to tell her she wasn’t equal in the eyes of God. When I met her, she was 89 years old. We celebrated her 90th birthday while I was the Interim Rector at Emmaus House Episcopal Church in Atlanta, GA. Emmaus House is in the middle of an impoverished, all-black neighborhood. Half of its parishioners come from that neighborhood. The other parishioners are affluent white people, who attend there because of their commitment to the gospel and their baptismal vows.
Mrs. Mathews was a black woman from the neighborhood. Her first name was Ethel, but no one ever called her anything but “Mrs. Matthews”. She was arrested many times during the 1960’s for her protests for equal civil rights. She had a perspective that older Atlantans can still quote, “God Almighty made me equal. If you don’t believe that, then you better get right with God.”

Her finest moment, according to her, of course, was her encounter with Mr. Bucknell and his henchmen (as she called them). Mr. Bucknell owned a restaurant in Atlanta that wouldn’t seat blacks, even after racial tensions began to ease somewhat. Mrs. Matthews organized a picket line urging white people to boycott his restaurant. The picket line severely hurt his business. One night, Mr. Bucknell and two other white men paid Mrs. Matthews a visit at her home. She lived alone. They offered her money to stop the picket line; and when that didn’t work, they threatened her life. Mrs. Matthews produced her grandfather’s pistol, told them she knew how to shoot and if they wanted to live to see their grandchildren, they’d better get out of her home. While still holding the pistol, she said with her characteristic passion, “There’s one way to get that picket line to stop, Mr. Bucknell. Serve me lunch tomorrow. I’ll be there in my go-to-meetin’ clothes at twelve o’clock and I’ll have the press with me. Now, get out of my home.”
The next day on the evening news, all of Atlanta saw Mrs. Matthews in her Sunday finest having the blue plate special at Mr. Bucknell’s restaurant. Never mind that her granddaddy’s pistol didn’t have even one bullet in it. It held off three men long enough for her to show them the way to equality of relationship, and they, in return, finally did the right thing. They changed their behavior because of Mrs. Mathews. Because she wasn’t afraid to walk her talk. When asked about the courage it took to speak truth to power, she always said, “It doesn’t take courage; it takes hope.”
​
It's probably fair to say that everyone here this morning hopes for a better future for us and our posterity. Christ has no body now but ours. May we be willing to choose as Jesus chose every day of our lives, that we might be the followers of Christ we profess to be.
© Marion E. Kanour