Do you know where your coffee comes from? If you’re a fan of Silver Bridge coffee, as I am, you know that it is roasted from certified Fair Trade beans. That means that anyone who buys it can be sure that the beans were grown by farmers who are members of a democratically run cooperative, that it was produced without child labor, that there were restrictions on the use of herbicides and pesticides, and that the coffee harvesters received a fair price.
It wasn’t always so. In the late 1970s Felipe and Mary Barreda were ordinary middle-class people living in Nicaragua under the dictatorship of Anastasio Somoza.1 Felipe was a watchmaker and Mary was a hair stylist. Together they had raised six children. After participating in Cursillo and the base communities movement, they came to see that their Christian faith called them to serve the poor. When the Sandinistas came to power, the Barredas threw themselves into the work of reconstruction of the Nicaraguan economy and into programs that brought healthcare and literacy to poor communities. Unfortunately, in the mid-1980s, the Sandinista reforms met increasing opposition from the Contra movement, which waged a war of terror from bases in Honduras. Because coffee was one of Nicaragua’s principle exports, coffee harvesters, especially those who tried to organize, became targets of Contra terror activities.
The Barredas knew well the dangers that they faced. They were committed to the service of poor communities to which they knew that their faith had called them. Family members and friends tried to persuade them to leave their work with the poor. But they defended their decision to join the coffee harvest just before Christmas in 1982. They wrote to their friends, “We discovered that faith is not expecting that the Lord will miraculously give us whatever we ask, or feeling the security that we will not be killed and that everything will turn out as we want. We learned that faith is putting ourselves in His hands, whatever happens good or bad. He will help us somehow.” On December 28, as they were harvesting coffee, they and six other harvesters were surrounded by contras and forced to march to a camp in Honduras. Mary was repeatedly raped. On January 7, 1983, both were executed.
As committed disciples of Jesus, Felipe and Mary Barreda were doing no more than following where their master had gone before. In today’s Gospel reading, Jesus is on long walk from Galilee to Jerusalem. As he makes his way, he continues to teach and heal in all the small towns and villages through which he passes. Perhaps he has arrived at a place where he can see the holy city in the distance. Surrounded by his disciples, he is approached by some Pharisees who warn him that Herod is trying to kill him. Are you surprised? Weren’t the Pharisees Jesus’ implacable enemies? Actually, no, they were not. Like Jesus, they too were reformers of Judaism, although they and Jesus differed significantly about how reform might be accomplished. Many of them probably had some sympathy for Jesus, especially as the Roman puppet ruler Herod had already executed Jesus’ cousin John the Baptizer. And so they deliver their warning: “Get away from here, for Herod wants to kill you.”
Can Jesus turn back at this point? Can he say to himself, “Yeah, I’d better stay out of Jerusalem. It’s not safe there.” Jesus is undeterred. He understands his call, and he knows that his own personal survival is of no concern. He must continue to play the role for which he was sent. He must remain steadfast and committed to his purpose. Though he surely faces death in Jerusalem, he must nevertheless continue his ministry. He must continue to teach and heal, to finish his work, and to look ahead to what he trusts will occur on the third day after his death.
Paul echoed Jesus’ commitment to ministry when he wrote to the Christian community at Philippi. By the time he wrote this letter, Paul too could look ahead to possible death. It was the early ‘60s, and Paul was in prison. He was a Roman citizen and thus probably on his way to Rome for trial as an evangelist of the Way. Nero was persecuting Christians in Rome, and death was likely for Paul. Since Philippi was a Roman colony in Macedonia, the Philippian followers of Jesus were also facing persecution. To strengthen their faith, Paul advised them to be guided not only by his own commitment to Jesus but also by the commitment of steadfast Christians around them, “those who live according to the example you have in us.” As followers of Jesus, Paul told them, they were now the subjects of a ruler who had taken on the role of a slave for their sake. How should they exercise their new citizenship? By “standing firm in the Lord,” whatever the cost.
You and I are probably not called to martyrdom. We could conceivably be the victims of gun violence. How can we forget the children at Sandy Hook or the six people who had come to a Tucson supermarket to hear Gabrielle Giffords speak and were cut down by Jared Loughner’s shots? And there are those, even in the U.S., who have been murdered for their beliefs. We need only remember Barnett Slepian, a doctor who provided abortions, for example. In 1998 he had just returned from a synagogue service when he was murdered in his home by James Charles Kopp. Nor will most of us be itinerant evangelists like Paul, arrested by the state for spreading a pernicious new religion. Nor I hope will any of you end up writing letters to your friends from prison.
So how do we imitate Jesus or Paul in their stubborn and steadfast commitment to their identity in God? Like the Philippians, we too were baptized into Christ’s Body. We too are citizens of a different country, a country whose ruler is Christ not Caesar. We too are called to “stand firm in the Lord.” Easier said than done, you say. On a personal level, we may find ourselves having to defend even having faith at all. Haven’t you heard someone say, “You mean you still believe those old myths? Why on earth do I need God? Gravity is all the foundation my life needs!” Perhaps your faith has called you take a particular political stance, but those around you oppose your view. Can you follow the example of the Barredas and remain faithful to what you know to be true? Often crises affect our faith, and we find ourselves unwilling to trust a God who would let something tragic happen to our loved one – notwithstanding what happened to God’s Son – or who would let someone else betray us so badly. In the face of such pain and hurt, we may even turn our backs on God.
How about your commitment to prayer or worship? Our culture does not support either. In our noisy, 24/7 culture, we have to consciously detach from the world around us, to find a few minutes of quiet. And if you have to work or travel on Sundays, there goes worship. How about remaining true to a Lenten discipline, to prayer, fasting, alms-giving, or study? Given the temptations around us, it could be a real struggle.
On the parish level too we are called to imitate Jesus and Paul. We hear a lot of talk these days about “survival.” Our parishes are shrinking, and all our denominations have been steadily losing members for decades. “Members, more members,” cry clergy search committees. Yet fewer and fewer people – young or old – want to be part of the church. And isn’t the church in a transition period? Many observers think so. Phyllis Tickle, Diana Butler Bass, Brian McLaren, and others tell us that we are in the middle of another five hundred-year shift. Just as those who experienced the Reformation could not predict what the church would eventually come to be, so we too cannot know what God is doing in the church now, and what the church will come to be.
Even so, as disciples of Jesus, as students of Paul, as faithful Christians, we have been called by God, we have been planted here at St. Peter’s, to continue ministry in this place. Like Jesus and Paul we must not be concerned about survival. Rather, we are called to live out our mission here as best we understand it. We are not a comfortable social club. Rather, we are a group called together, so we say, to “share the joy of God’s grace with the community and the world.” We are a community called to worship God, support and care for one another, and care for the needs of those around us.
So, my sisters and brothers, while we continue to pray for the health of this parish, what is more important, we also leave its survival in God’s hands. Meanwhile, we continue in mission, with our eyes firmly fixed on Jesus. Lent is a good time to reflect on how well we are carrying out our mission. As you attend to your Lenten disciplines – whether you are fasting, praying, studying, or giving to charity – ponder also the mission of the church in this place. Are we faithful to what God has given us to do here?
1. The account that follows is based on Robert Ellsberg, “Felix and Mary Barreda,” All Saints (New York: Crossroad, 2000), pp. 18ff.
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