Living in Harmony

• Romans 12:9-21

  Marks of the True Christian

  9 Let love be genuine; hate what is evil; hold fast to what is good; 10 love one another with mutual affection; outdo one another in showing honor. 11 Do not lag in zeal; be ardent in spirit; serve the Lord. 12 Rejoice in hope; be patient in affliction; persevere in prayer. 13 Contribute to the needs of the saints; pursue hospitality to strangers.

  14 Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them. 15 Rejoice with those who rejoice; weep with those who weep. 16 Live in harmony with one another; do not be arrogant, but associate with the lowly;[a] do not claim to be wiser than you are. 17 Do not repay anyone evil for evil, but take thought for what is noble in the sight of all. 18 If it is possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all. 19 Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave room for the wrath of God,[b] for it is written, “Vengeance is mine; I will repay, says the Lord.” 20 Instead, “if your enemies are hungry, feed them; if they are thirsty, give them something to drink, for by doing this you will heap burning coals on their heads.” 21 Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.

• Matthew 16:21-28

  Jesus Foretells His Death and Resurrection

  21 From that time on, Jesus began to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and undergo great suffering at the hands of the elders and chief priests and scribes and be killed and on the third day be raised. 22 And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him, saying, “God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to you.” 23 But he turned and said to Peter, “Get behind me, Satan! You are a hindrance[a] to me, for you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.”

  The Cross and Self-Denial

  24 Then Jesus told his disciples, “If any wish to come after me, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. 25 For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it. 26 For what will it profit them if they gain the whole world but forfeit their life? Or what will they give in return for their life?

  27 “For the Son of Man is to come with his angels in the glory of his Father, and then he will repay everyone for what has been done. 28 Truly I tell you, there are some standing here who will not taste death before they see the Son of Man coming in his kingdom.”

Living in harmony. This week has not been one that I would describe as having been lived in harmony. Throughout the week, I felt out of harmony with myself, with others, and with God. It was a week of stressors, of having others tell me how I should move through the world, of deep collective losses, and of general irregularity. It was one of those weeks when I felt as though I was being pulled in a thousand different directions, all at once. And then, to top it all off, Anna and I found out on Wednesday night that one of the English professors at SUNY Potsdam passed away about a month ago, following an extremely brief battle with cancer. This was a professor Anna worked closely with throughout our time at Potsdam. He taught literature, and was the editor in chief for Blueline Literary Magazine, where Anna did a year-long internship. He was well-loved, not only among those at the college, but also among the broader community. He was especially involved in local writers’ groups in the Potsdam area. I only met him a couple of times, but he was always warm, and he looked just like how an English professor at a small, liberal arts school in the Northeast should look: wire-rimmed glasses, sweater vests or cardigans, khaki pants, oxford shirts. He was well-known, well-respected, and well-loved by the village he called home. His name was Donald McNutt. 

Even though he died on August 5th, there was no public memorial planned for him until this week, which worked out well for Anna and me, since we had only found out about his death on Wednesday. A large part of why nothing was planned for before this week was because this week was the North Country Arts Festival, which partly became a tribute to Dr. McNutt. There was a slam poetry reading, at which he was remembered, and there was Potsdam Porchfest, where people in the village offer their porches as stages for musicians to perform for audiences on the lawns, which saw performances dedicated to the professor. The final memorial was held this weekend. One of the final events of the Arts Festival was a candlelight vigil and time of sharing held after a concert in the main park in the Village of Potsdam. For those familiar with Potsdam, this concert was in Ives Park, a beautiful green space right next to the Raquette river on Main Street, with a very Adirondacky play structure, a launch for kayaks and canoes, and a picturesque gazebo, just like the one here in Fairport by the library. The perfect place for the kind of music that a sweater-clad, wire-rimmed glasses-wearing, stereotypical English professor at a small, liberal arts school in the Northeast would surely have wanted to hear. Something classical, perhaps jazz, folk, or something mellow from the 60s or 70s. 

You might have thought. But instead, when Anna and I decided to make a quick trip to Potsdam for this memorial—a quick, seven-hour round-trip to Potsdam—we saw that this vigil would be held following a punk show. It turned out that the concert that would be dedicated to this unassuming English professor was to be a show featuring four punk bands, who ran the gamut from hardcore screamo, to more of an alternative rock feel. If these words are meaningless to you, think of a lot of loud, distorted guitars and yes, actual screaming as the lead vocals. We arrived at Ives Park to see a crowd of mostly younger folks, many with gelled-up Mohawks, leather or denim jackets, piercings, tattoos, patches, and combat boots. It was a crowd and a genre that seemed totally at odds with the natural beauty of the river and the park, the quaintness of a small village in the middle of nowhere, and certainly with the person who was being remembered afterwards. But, when the organizer of the concert got up to introduce the first punk group, he explained why that concert was the perfect way to remember Dr. McNutt. He explained, and this was later corroborated, that the professor was actually a huge fan of punk music—both the big, famous artists and especially the local groups that were just getting started. 

Besides that, though, he explained that the professor was a lover of art and of people, that he attended every single concert that was put on in the village, no matter the genre, and that he was passionate about encouraging people to find their voices and create their art. Many in the Potsdam punk scene turned out for the memorial, witnessing to a man who was known by all the artists in the community—from the writers of all ages, to the high school kids starting bands in their parents’ garages, to his college students, to painters and photographers. The punk concert organizer reflected that Dr. McNutt worked really hard to tell people “I understand,” both so that each person he interacted with knew that he cared enough to know what they were saying, and also so that every person could say that at least one person understood them and what they were trying to express. Each time someone got up to the microphone to speak, it became clearer that there was nothing dissonant about remembering someone like this professor at a hardcore punk show. The show was people sharing their art, offering support, valuing expression and voice over whether something was aesthetically pristine. It was a moment to remember a man who, by all accounts, loved genuinely. It was an opportunity to hold fast to what is good, show hospitality to strangers, and associate with people the world might see as less-than.

I don’t have a whole theology of punk music, though there are many who have written on this topic before. But, at the heart of this genre, especially as lived out in this way as a memorial, there is an inherent counterculturalism. It feels like such a lame and obvious thing to say, but it has to be said. This counterculturalism, as laid out in today’s readings and in the life of Dr. McNutt, challenges us to consider the ways in which our culture shifts us out of harmony—with ourselves, with our communities, and with the Divine. The professor knew his community, and was known by them. His passion for individual expression as a part of communal art flew in the face of a culture that peddles individualism as a means of driving us further away from one another. It challenges the idea that our wealth is our own, that our values are internal creations, and that we have no obligation to anyone but ourselves. His genuine love for others defied the cultural urge to make people figure things out on their own, or to shame others into only presenting themselves or their creations when they are polished, perfect, and palatable—when they are fit to be posted on social media or published somewhere respectable. It’s an ethic that calls for vulnerability, that embraces difference and imperfection, and that sees the importance of the individual not as a matter of ego or a rejection of community—but as a crucial and unique part of the whole, rich tapestry of human creation.

The passage we heard earlier from the letter to the Romans comes after the author of the letter has opened up the community of believers to the Gentiles, those who were not part of the Jewish nation. This passage, then, is a set of guidelines, an introduction to how those in this particular community of Jesus followers ought to behave. It demands love and humility and goodness and healing and solidarity. It tells those joining the community to live in harmony. Does that mean that everyone likes the same things? Does that mean that everyone is going to love screamo and hardcore music? Does that mean that everyone is going to get along at all times and love perfectly? We know it doesn’t mean all that, especially since it says to bless your enemies, meaning that there may very well be enemies. Perhaps, though, the kin-dom of God, the Beloved Community, can be a place where we see the divine harmony of a punk show in a charming small-town park. Perhaps it can be a place where creation and voice are not something we will into existence on our own, but something that is coaxed out with the genuine love of others. Perhaps the church can be this countercultural place, where voices are nurtured, especially among the young. May we live into this call, to be that Beloved Community, to love genuinely, to truly understand one another, and to set our sights not on what will please the world, but on where and who God is calling us to be. In doing so, may we begin to live in harmony. Amen.