Hebrews 1:1-4, 2:5-12
Ordinary 19B; Proper 22
Thanks to this week’s guest writer! Shelli Latham is pastor at Druid Hills Presbyterian Church in Atlanta.
As one opens the introductory verses of Hebrews, it is almost like stepping into the middle of an argument.
This book, which encompasses both epistle and sermon genres, lacks the gentle greeting of other letters. There is no “grace and peace to you,” but instead the launching of a rhetorical argument of the supremacy of Jesus Christ over all things. The chapters that follow are theologically rich, but also a bit dense and unyielding in their warnings of not falling away from the faith. As a sophisticated book which builds its arguments about Jesus’ supremacy, as our great high priest, on an assumption of Old Testament scriptural awareness, it has the potential to be inaccessible to contemporary worshippers, particularly during a time in which attention spans are strained by the challenges of daily pandemic existence and the distractions of worship restrictions that currently plague congregational leadership. And yet, it is these very struggles that heighten the relevance of Hebrews and particularly these opening chapters, because at the heart of the author’s lofty language of glory and angels and sanctification, two key questions are explored that are relevant to the deeply-rooted and newbie-to-the-faith worshipper alike: Who is Jesus, and what does that mean for us?
The bulk of our reading (through Hebrews 2:9) answers the first question, establishing Christ as before and above all things. Paralleling the language of John 1:1-4, the author depicts the grandeur of the Son as the heir of salvation and co-creator of the universe. (Incidentally, Hebrews 1 and John 1 often find themselves alongside one another as part of the Christmas Day lectionary readings.) We also learn in these opening sentences that Christ is “much superior to angels” (1:4). But this depiction of holy supremacy is coupled with vulnerability, suffering and sacrifice. It’s reminiscent of the Christ hymn in Philippians 2, which sings out “Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness” (2:5-7). And so, we are introduced (or reintroduced) to Christ, who was and is above all but who chose sacrifice and vulnerability for the sake of our salvation.
This leads to the “what does this mean for us?” question. I come to this passage not as a biblical scholar, but as a pastor who has the privilege of making it relevant in our polarized world. My worshipping community will celebrate World Communion Sunday as we reflect on this word, so I have been most captivated by the language of Jesus as the “pioneer of [our] salvation” (2:10). In reflecting on our worldwide communion, Jesus’ pioneering and the pioneering tactics of white colonialism (packaged as Christianity) offer stark comparisons. The pioneer of our salvation is the one who extends an expansive, global invitation to the table. As those who follow in the footsteps of the great pioneer, we cannot ignore that God made “the pioneer of … salvation perfect through suffering.” The one whose footsteps in the faith we follow to the table, and to our interactions with God and neighbor willing chose to abandon the sure security and pomp of the angel’s realm to walk and suffer and struggle with the whole mess of humankind.
Pioneers shape us. The foundation that they lay in navigating uncharted territory creates a model that, for good or for ill, those who follow suit emulate. I was reminded of that recently when I finally got to be “in the room where it happens.” In the musical, “Hamilton,” we are offered a glimpse into the ways that the founding fathers of the United States of America, the pioneers in country-making, shaped the trajectory and identity of America and her people. In the iconic song, “The Room Where It Happens,” Aaron Burr bemoans that Alexander Hamilton (along with James Madison and Thomas Jefferson) pushed through his plans for a new financial system and no one knows how the deal was done because it happened behind closed doors. Burr sings, “No one else was in the room where it happened.”
At a dinner hosted by Thomas Jefferson, who sings, “Well, I arranged the meeting / I arranged the menu, the venue, the seating,” these pioneers of American history came to an agreement which impacts our banking system today.
This week’s lectionary reading welcomes us into the room where it happens. We are invited to see that our salvation was procured by Christ, the pioneer and perfector of our faith, who modeled and laid a groundwork for life won through self-sacrifice and humility. In preaching this passage (whether we are preparing to come to the table together or simply to remember what it means to follow in the footsteps of one who unites all as heirs and siblings in salvation) we have the opportunity to explore our shared identity as citizens of the kin-dom of God and what it means (for the powerful and those who have been denied power) that the pioneer of salvation set eternal joy in motion through willing vulnerability. If we are sharing in the sacrament of communion, Jesus Christ, the pioneer of salvation and the host of the holy meal arranges “the menu, the venue, the seating” so that all from east, west, north and south have a place at the table, a place made possible in sacrifice and love.
For reflection:
- When have you witnessed unity and community born out of willing self-denial?
- What is the message of Christ’s pioneering work for communities that are marginalized?
- What is the message of Christ’s pioneering work for communities that have benefitted from systems of power that elevate some populations at the expense of others?
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