The Patriarchs and Matriarchs “all died in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them afar off were assured of them, embraced them and confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth. For those who say such things declare plainly that they seek a homeland. And truly if they had called to mind that country from which they had come out, they would have had opportunity to return. But now they desire a better, that is, a heavenly country. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for He has prepared a city for them.”  May I speak in the name of the one God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.

On a hot Alabama August night 42 years ago, a deputy sheriff by the name of Tom Coleman pointed his shotgun in the direction of a young black woman by the name of Ruby Sales.  As Coleman’s demonic rage burned in his heart, he pulled the trigger, the shot whistling toward the 17 year-old girl.  A young seminarian by the name of Jonathon Daniels shoved her out of the way and took the full blast in the chest, killing him instantly.  A Roman Catholic priest friend of Jon’s quickly allowed the other African Americans to escape, but at the cost of being shot himself.  Coleman guarded the body of the bleeding priest as long as he could, but he eventually surrendered his weapon.  Father Morrisroe, the heroic priest, was taken to the hospital and survived.  Coleman was taken to jail, but was soon out on bail.  He was later acquitted by a jury of his peers after claiming self-defense.  He told the jury that he saw a knife in Daniels’ hand.  None of the witnesses did, and no knife was ever found.  Such is the world’s justice. 

The Episcopal Church remembers Jonathon Daniels on August 14.  We can certainly see this event as a tragedy, which it is, but Daniels is also an example for us of faith in action.  Daniel was moved by Dr. King’s call for students and clergy to come down to Alabama and help out with the civil rights struggle.  Daniels was moved to do so.  He hopped on a bus with other students and went down to march, but when the other students left, he stayed.  He stayed for the spring semester and came back in the summer after exams.  He thought it was strange for students motivated by liberal guilt to march, and then leave.  There was something deeper within Jonathon that moved him to action.  That day came a few years earlier when he walked into the Church of the Advent, in Boston.  He attended an Easter Vigil and was dumbstruck.  Daniels had questioned his faith from the time that his father had died.  In the course of one Eucharist, the doubt that had turned his heart to stone was melted away like wax, and a new fire burned within him.  The fire was a passion for Christ and his Gospel.  Jonathon did not want to change the world as much as change one heart at a time.  In his time at church and in his study, he came to understand something that the early and medieval churches understood.  This world is not heaven on earth, nor can we make it so.  We are pilgrims on a journey.  That does not mean that this world does not matter, that does not mean we should sit around and wait to die, but as the author of Hebrews tells us, this place is not our home.

When Jonathon made his free will decision to die that day, he understood something that most people fighting for causes don’t understand.  There is something greater than even the worthiest cause. 

Jonathon could have made the decision not to jump in front of that bullet.  After all, Jonathon was a skilled activist.  The cause needed him.  He had important work to do for the betterment of humankind.  Jonathon, in the end, rejects that phony martyrdom.  He rejects the metaphorical cross, and grabs the real one.  He understood that this world was not his home.  He understood Hebrews when it says “And truly if they had called to mind that country from which they had come out, they would have had opportunity to return.”  Jonathon did not hold on to future earthly glory.  He was willing to lay down all his pride, and follow Jesus to the cross. 

Martyrdom is a word that makes us uncomfortable today.  Our English word “martyr” comes from the Greek word “to witness”.  Christian martyrs are willing to witness even to death.  We misuse the term when talking about suicide bombers.  Martyrdom is always a free choice and is somehow, despite the intentions of the executioners, life affirming. 

Jesus understood that his earthly ministry would end in death on the cross.  Understanding the cross’ cruelty and inhumanity, he asked God in the garden if there was some other way, but there was not.  He took up his cross, and died a criminal’s death, but through that death salvation came. 

Many early Christians would follow in the way of the cross.  Bishop Polycarp, who knew John the Evangelist in his youth, in his old age, was burned in Rome.  All he had to do to avoid the punishment was to renounce Jesus.  He could have had the ancient equivalent of a golf-filled retirement on one of the Greek islands.  Instead, he chooses Jesus.  Tradition tells us that when Polycarp died, many of the bloodthirsty Romans were moved by his faith.  As the crowd watched Polycarp choose a heavenly country, many in the crowd wondered what he had that they did not.  This inner questioning led many to the faith. 

This past Friday, the Christian world celebrated the witness of St. Lawrence.  St. Lawrence was a deacon in the Roman Church in the mid third century. 

Lawrence and seven other clerics, including Pope Sixtus II, were captured by the thugs of Emperor Valerian in 258.  The prefect murdered the pope and the other deacons, but kept Lawrence alive hoping that he would tell where the treasures of the church were kept.  The prefect knew that people donated to the church all the time, so he assumed the church must be rich with gold.  Lawrence was asked where the treasures were kept.  He agreed to show the prefect where they were if he would release Lawrence for an afternoon.  Lawrence spent the day gathering the Church’s treasures and then returned to the prefect.  The prefect demanded the treasures, so Lawrence showed him the riches of the church.  He showed him the poor, and the sick, and the old who had been helped by the church.  He said these are the treasures of the Church.  The prefect was not amused and put Lawrence on a grill.  Lawrence had a practical and true faith.  Lawrence was a witness to the love of Christ working in a community, even an oppressive one. 

Polycarp wanted a peaceful Christianity to prosper in the Empire.  He didn’t live to see it.  Jonathon Daniels wanted an America where there was neither Greek nor Jew, black nor white.  He didn’t live to see it.  When Paul wrote that our differences in gender, social status, and culture are unimportant, he wasn’t talking about America, or Galatia.  He was talking about the Body of Christ, and the Body of Christ neither equals our country nor any one else’s.  It is our job to make the country look more like the body of Christ.  This will only happen through evangelism.  Polycarp, Lawrence, Jonathon Daniels, and all other Christian martyrs spread the faith by laying down their lives for Christ and for those whom Christ loves.  Some martyrs saved the life of others indirectly like Polycarp, and others both directly and indirectly, like Daniels.  Thankfully, the vast majority of Christians are not called to a violent martyrdom, but we are all called to a martyrdom, in the old sense of the word, to witness. 

Daniels did not know that his time on earth would end with a bullet, but his faith prepared him for that moment.  Daniels’ study of God’s word, his worship of God, and his desire to bring Gospel justice, not just social justice to the world, prepared him for heaven.  There has been or will be a similar time in our lives, perhaps not as dramatic, but equally meaningful for us, and we will have to prepare.  By growing in our faith through the study of God’s word, through receiving grace through God’s sacraments, through our prayer lives, and through our ever deepening relationship with the risen Christ, we are being prepared for heaven, and for the little moments when our pure faith breaks out of our ho-hum, often far too selfish lives.

May God give us the strength to bear witness to Christ Jesus no matter what situation we find ourselves in. 

Amen.