What does it mean to be a holy nation? The first letter of Peter bestows this descriptor on the earliest Christian communities of Asia minor. Two thousand years later as the United States approaches the 250^th anniversary of its Declaration of Independence, the question of what it actually means to be a holy nation is, to put it lightly, contested. This Sunday’s Gospel and readings journey with us in that question, exploring positions beyond the crude and rigid walls of Christian nationalism and embracing more imaginative understandings about being a community of people of goodwill.

In the Gospel Jesus describes frankly the conditions of discipleship – to love God beyond any other allegiance, security, or purpose, even if that allegiance is to your mother and father, even if that security is the one you find in your children, even if that purpose is wrapped up in the worldly attachments of your life. This section of Matthew greatly influenced Dietrich Bonhoeffer and is referenced in the title of his classic book, The Cost of Discipleship. Bonhoeffer distinguishes between what he calls cheap grace and costly grace. Those who seek cheap grace effectively misuse God’s forgiveness, taking as granted that they will be absolved for straying from Jesus instead of following Jesus – through uncertainty, discomfort, or even pain – to the margins. Costly grace divides the disciple from life that is organized around individual concerns or the concerns of the homogenous group. It instead makes the disciple accountable to a broader array of commitments and responsibilities.

We do not engage in the praxis of faith alone, the Gospel and the reading from the Book of Kings both speak about recognizing the witness of disciples as part of this process. Matthew doesn’t elaborate on the somewhat cryptic idea of receiving a prophet and getting a “prophet’s reward”, but Kings gives us a better sense of what this might mean. A woman of influence in the village of Shunem forms a relationship with the prophet Elisha, welcoming him, dining together, and offering him hospitality in her home whenever he visited, ultimately creating a furnished room of his own. Sharing time and meals together suggests that the woman of influence was not just fulfilling a social obligation but enjoying a friendship; preparing a special place for him in her household shows that she cherished Elisha and his wisdom. As reward for meaningful, sustained encounter with the prophet, the woman of influence was promised a son – a gift that signifies generativity and God’s favor. Although this was best expressed through giving birth to a male heir in the social context of Biblical Shunem, there are a myriad of ways that people of all genders have been blessed by God with generativity, around the world and across time. Think about dedicated learning or devotion you have directed toward learning about a human rights activist, praying with a saint, or getting to know a wise person in your community. What has bloomed in your spirit as an outcome of this relationship?

How can we love God beyond any other allegiance, security, or purpose from within a country beset by Christian nationalism? How can we ensure we are fully receiving prophets as part of a Church that struggles to realize its synodal mission? Find and pursue common causes with your neighbors, regardless of if they have cultures, religions, or circumstances that make them “not like you” – reject claims that these differences mean we cannot have allegiances to one another. Challenge your families, social groups, schools, and workplaces to purge themselves of the false security of patriarchy, that insidious gender ideology overprivileging male leadership and confining women and nonbinary people to social roles that bend and buckle under the weight of unrecognized sacrifice and labor. Develop and embody a spirituality with a purpose deeper than the individualistic goal of healing and personal growth, one that is textured more by practicing reconciliation and accountability than by receiving forgiveness. When you work to address the needs of marginalized communities – whether it be people or color or sick and disabled people bracing against today’s political crises, or the young people or LGBTQ people who are misunderstood or scorned by our Church – address them as equals. As you share resources, share meals. As you minister, befriend their ministers, don’t flatten them into a group that is only ministered to.

These ideals are inspiring to think about, and if they are achieved, they would bring about a great deal of grace. But it would be dishonest to ignore the possibility that pursuing this grace could cost – it could cost a lot. Paul’s letter to the Romans reminds me that our baptism in Christ connects us to him in both life and death. Supporting radical economic changes like large-scale debt cancellation or universal housing may make you unpopular. Resisting the machine of war and the mass production of violence might get you labeled a “bad citizen”. Protecting the environment, protecting trans children, and protecting immigrants can come at great personal risk – indeed, we’ve started seeing Christians arrested for trying to protect the vulnerable, and some like Renee Nicole Good have paid the ultimate price in losing their lives. I truly do not believe that God wants us to suffer. And yet if we are faithful in following Jesus, suffering may cross our paths.

Psalm 89 reminds us to find trust and joy in God through it all. Sing the goodness of God forever! Today is Pride Sunday, and one of the many things I love about being gay is how the LGBTQ community knows how to show up and celebrate despite hard times. So many forces have tried to kill us, erase us, convert us, or defang us, we have sustained horrible losses, and yet as a people we have survived. I hear that same audacious tenacity in this psalm. May all Christians believe in the glory of God with the same strength, and may all people of goodwill share in the project of becoming a nation were all – all, all, all – can thrive.

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