In the interest of full disclosure, I am beginning this sermon with a disclaimer: today’s Gospel is not about us. Here we are at the beginning of Lent. While Jesus has ended his fast and his struggle with the powers of evil, we have just begun our forty-day struggle. We have just begun the examination of our lives to which we are called during Lent. Because we are at the beginning of this period of introspection and honesty with self, we might be tempted to read this text as a lesson in how to face our own temptations. “Facing our demons,” as one commentator put it. We are certainly tempted, all the time, and we pray, all the time, for God to keep us as far from temptation as possible. But this text is not primarily about us and our struggles.
This text is about Jesus. This text is specifically about what kind of messiah Jesus is. This is a central question for Matthew and the community for which he was writing. It is a question that runs throughout the entire Gospel of Matthew’s and to which Matthew’s account gives several different answer. Who is this Jesus? How do we understand what he taught, how he lived, how he died, and what happened after his death? Who is he, and what does that mean for our community and ourselves?
Our lections skip around some in the Gospel of Matthew . Last week our lection was from chapter 17, and on Ash Wednesday we heard from chapter 6. However it is important to remember that the story of Jesus’ temptation in the wilderness immediately follows the story of Jesus’ baptism. All three synoptic Gospels record this event, and all three place it immediately after Jesus’ baptism. You remember that in the stories of Jesus’ birth we learned that he was to be the savior of his people, and that, in him, something new and wonderful was coming into the world. In Jesus’ baptism, we heard God declare explicitly that Jesus was God’s beloved son. Although each of the evangelists interprets that declaration slightly differently, all of them, and most especially Matthew, want to tell us what that declaration actually means. Matthew’s question is what scholars call the “Christological” question, i.e., what kind of messiah is Jesus? Before providing any description of Jesus’ ministry, before showing us anything of Jesus’ works or his teachings, before letting us see the heart of the Gospel, Matthew makes sure that we understand who Jesus really is. And in the first century, as for us, that was not an idle question. Remember that Israel was under the heel of the Roman boot, and that the fledgling Christian community was at odds with both the political and religious leadership. There were all kinds of people looking for a messiah, and all kinds of expectations as to what the messiah would do, and so Matthew was at pains here to make sure that we understand clearly who Jesus is, what kind of messiah he isn’t, and, indirectly, what kind he is.
Matthew begins by assuring us that everything that happened to Jesus was at God’s direction: he was “led by the Spirit.” Matthew personifies all those forces opposed to Jesus, all the systemic evil that pervades the world, as “Satan,” an old mythological figure of the ancient Near East. Matthew begins his account with Satan’s declaration, “Since you are the Son of God….” This is the first time that this title is used in Matthew’s Gospel, and it would have shocked his readers: this title was used by the emperor Augustus, who called himself the “son of God.” At the outset, therefore, Matthew clearly states that Jesus is someone whose power is equal to or greater than that of Augustus – whatever we might think from the rest of the story. More to the point, the three temptations that Jesus faces here suggest three ways of exercising power, three ways that Jesus explicitly rejects, three ways in which Jesus will not be the savior that either the forces of evil – or we – would like. First, Jesus will not be someone who sets aside the laws of nature to fulfill everyone’s material needs. No prosperity Gospel here! Following Jesus will not get you into the millionaire’s club. Rather, Jesus and we must respect the laws of nature and depend on God to fulfill our material needs. During his ministry, Jesus himself will surely feed and heal people, but he does so to demonstrate God’s care for all of us. Second, Jesus will not be a showman. He will not test God by doing something so foolish and daring that everyone must be so astonished that they will be drawn to him. He will not draw followers solely because he can do things no one else can do. He will not be a superman. And third, and most important for Matthew’s readers, Jesus will not exercise political power. He will not displace the Romans – indeed by the time of the writing of Matthew’s Gospel the hated Romans had destroyed the temple. Jesus may be a descendant of King David, but he will not establish God’s kingdom in political terms.
Ironically, all the ways of being a messiah that Jesus rejects have good in them. Certainly, we should provide for our own and others’ material needs. We need to feed the hungry and clothe the naked – Matthew is quite explicit about that. Certainly, we should want to draw people into our Christian communities by acts that clearly demonstrate God’s power and love. And certainly we should want to establish political justice. What Jew or Christian wouldn’t have wanted to get rid of the hated Romans? And isn’t a superhuman messiah who could do all these things exactly what they needed?
No, Matthews tells his readers and us. Our messiah was not Superman. Our messiah may be the Son of God, but he rejected all super powers, he “emptied himself taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness,” as Paul said in his letter to the Christian community at Philippi. Our messiah gave up any divine powers he might have had, identified with us in our powerlessness, and declared his allegiance solely to God his Father. Our messiah stated in no uncertain terms that his commitment was wholly to God, that he depended solely on God for all his needs. Identifying with us in our own human weakness, our messiah was able to forgo the “bread, circuses, and political powers” of his day, and went to the Cross as the ultimate victim of those earthly powers. Our messiah is one who stands in solidarity with us, in complete opposition to earthly powers and promises that a new and different reign has begun to take root in this world.
Is this the messiah to whom we have given our allegiance? Have we committed ourselves to being more like this messiah? In a sense that is the primary question that we face during Lent. Is the messiah that we see in Matthew’s account the one that we are following? The question is not whether we are Christians. In our baptisms we have been made members of the Body of Christ. The question is what kind of Christians are we going to be? Matthew’s Gospel is not suggesting that we give up caring for the material needs of those around us, that we give up witnessing to others of God’s love and care for us, or that we cease to strive for justice in the political realm. If – or, better – since we are followers of a messiah who gave himself wholly to God and went to the Cross depending solely on God, and if we have promised to follow, then we too must be wholeheartedly committed to God and .dependent on God.
Perhaps we might take a lesson from the folks who meet downstairs. Actually, we could learn a lot from the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous. In chapter four, “We Agnostics,” we hear these words [Big Book, pp. 44-45]. For members of AA, this power is “the God of their understanding.” Total commitment to this higher power, total dependence on this higher power is what has helped members of AA, NA, and other “anonymous” organizations free themselves from alcohol, drugs, other addictions, and, ultimately, dependence solely on their own feeble powers. Florence Nightingale was once asked how she had accomplished so much, despite many years of poor health. She answered, “I have no other explanation. As far as I am able or aware, I have kept nothing back from God.”
On Ash Wednesday I suggested that when we take on the traditional Lenten disciplines of prayer, fasting, and alms-giving, we ask ourselves why we are taking on these disciplines, what reward we expect to receive from God. Lent is also a time for deeper self-examination, and especially for focus on the messiah in whose footsteps we are following. Like him, have we forsaken material power, grand gestures, and lust after political power? Have we admitted our dependence on God? Do we rely solely on God? Are we ready to follow Jesus wherever he leads us? Are we ready to follow him all the way to the Cross?
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Your Father Will Reward You
Some years ago, a writer identified the ten reasons why Ash Wednesday is better than Christmas. What, you don’t believe me? Listen. [Read Tens Reasons.] Do you think I’m being blasphemous? Here we are at the beginning of a holy and solemn season. The service began in silence. We’ve changed all the hangings from green to purple. We’re beginning that slow and certain journey deeper into the great mystery of our Lord’s resurrection. “So, Mother Leslie,” you might ask, “Why are you cracking a joke?”
Well, to begin with, you may be the only ones who care. Those who don’t believe couldn’t care less about what we’re doing this evening. They’re just going about their life as usual, whatever they normally do on Wednesday evening. Those who are only concerned about themselves just continue chasing whatever will give them the next high. But we religious people, we face a great temptation on this evening, and most days in this church: we are tempted to substitute religious performance for relationship with God. This is an especially great temptation for Episcopalians, since we value liturgy so much, and, of course for priests in particular, since we have to lead it and always want to get everything just right. We are tempted, all of us, to think that when we have executed the required ceremonies, preferably with elegance and grace, that we have done what God wants us to do.
Is elaborate ceremony what God wants of us? “No, no, no,” shout the prophets. Don’t we hear that “no” clearly in our reading from Isaiah this evening? We hear in no uncertain terms that mere fasting, if it is not accompanied by a change in the way we treat others, is worthless. “Such fasting as you do today will not make your voice heard on high,” God thunders. More to the point, the true fast, the fast that God really wants is not ceremonial, but, in Isaiah’s words, is “to loose the bonds of injustice” and “to share your bread with the hungry.” No, my friends, fasting or any other well-executed religious performance is not what God wants of us.
We hear the same message from Jesus in tonight’s Gospel reading. Actually, I don’t feel so bad about having begun with a joke, because our Lord also has used humor, or more accurately, exaggeration to get his point across. With great humor he offers an elaborate parody of the key religious practices of his day, alms-giving, prayer, and fasting. Jesus was originally speaking to his disciples. In his recounting of this speech for his community Matthew has couched it in terms that they can understand. But we can easily imagine Jesus saying something similar to us. “Look,” he might say, “that person over there is making a great show of putting a hundred-dollar bill in the collection plate, while the people next to hin want all their neighbors to know that not only do they tithe, they give twenty percent of their income to the church. Meanwhile, the folks over there are praying so hard, I can hardly hear myself preach. They may mean well, but really! And the folks up here must surely have been fasting all day. They’re certainly making sure that everyone knows how miserable they are.”
Yes, Jesus has parodied religious performance in this speech, but he does so in order to teach us a deeper lesson. Before we consider that deeper lesson, let’s consider what Jesus is not saying here. Alms-giving, prayer, and fasting were and still are key elements of Jewish religious practice, as they of our practice. In fact, alms-giving, prayer, and fasting are practiced in just about every religious tradition. Muslims, Hindus, Buddhists, and many others regularly give to the poor, pray, and fast. Jesus is not saying that we are not to do these things. Indeed, the church specifically recommends that we pay extra attention to these areas of religious discipline during Lent. Nor is Jesus saying that these disciplines should be pursued only in private. Jesus was as well aware as anyone of the importance of corporate worship, observance of communal fasts, and efforts to alleviate poverty and injustice.
The question that Jesus poses to his disciples, his first-century followers, and us is “Why are you doing these things?” What is our motivation? What do we hope to get out of taking on these practices? What reward are we expecting? Are we looking for the approval of others? I suppose that could have been motivation in the first century, but surely not for us. We know that most people on the other side of the red doors couldn’t care less about our prayer, fasting, or alms-giving. Although one writer does suggest that we ought to be more public rather than less public about what we do, so that others may know that there are still some people of faith around. Well, then, are we motivated to engage in spiritual disciplines out of a desire for the satisfaction of thinking that we did what’s expected, fulfilled all our obligations? Perhaps so, although, again, in the twenty-first century there surely is little social pressure on anyone to do anything remotely spiritual. Whatever the source of that motivation, it’s probably internal.
No, says Jesus, our motivation for doing anything in the way of prayer, fasting, and alms-giving should be to obtain God’s reward. Ah, here is the question I’ve been wrestling with. What is the reward of my “Father who sees in secret?” There’s a future-oriented answer to this question, which is that the Father’s reward is acceptance into the kingdom of heaven and the grant of eternal life. But is my reward for faithfulness only pie in the sky when I die? I don’t think so. As I’ve been wrestling with this question, I’ve come to realize that there’s a much deeper reward for engaging in our three-fold practices. And not only in Lent, but at least in Lent, our tithe of the year so to speak. As they were and are for Jews, ourselves, and everyone else, our traditional Lenten observances, as well as other spiritual disciplines, are signs and aids to inner growth and transformation. And so our reward for keeping them, in a word, is deeper friendship with God, deeper participation in the community of love that is at the heart of God. Through prayer we gain a deeper sense of God’s great love for us. Through fasting, we gain a deeper sense of how dependent we are on God for all that we have in this life, and through alms-giving we gain a deeper sense of the needs of God’s other children, our sisters and brothers in the world. As we reach out to others, and especially to the “neighbors we have from you,” as we have been singing this Epiphany tide, we are strengthened in our ability to fulfill the promises we made to God at our baptisms and which we reaffirm with every baptism we witness. Through prayer, fasting, and alms-giving ultimately we are rewarded with more complete growth into Christ, more complete transformation into the people we were truly created to be.
Lent is a solemn and penitential season. During these forty days we are asked to consider our sins and shortcomings, all the ways in which we have missed God’s mark. But Lent is not a sad season. Lent is a gift from God. It is a time when we may begin drawing closer to God. Most especially it is a time when we may, through prayer, fasting, and alms-giving, begin to know the depth of God’s love for us, made known to us in Christ Jesus, and the yearning of God to draw us into that blessed community of love. I wish you a holy and most blessed Lent.
Well, to begin with, you may be the only ones who care. Those who don’t believe couldn’t care less about what we’re doing this evening. They’re just going about their life as usual, whatever they normally do on Wednesday evening. Those who are only concerned about themselves just continue chasing whatever will give them the next high. But we religious people, we face a great temptation on this evening, and most days in this church: we are tempted to substitute religious performance for relationship with God. This is an especially great temptation for Episcopalians, since we value liturgy so much, and, of course for priests in particular, since we have to lead it and always want to get everything just right. We are tempted, all of us, to think that when we have executed the required ceremonies, preferably with elegance and grace, that we have done what God wants us to do.
Is elaborate ceremony what God wants of us? “No, no, no,” shout the prophets. Don’t we hear that “no” clearly in our reading from Isaiah this evening? We hear in no uncertain terms that mere fasting, if it is not accompanied by a change in the way we treat others, is worthless. “Such fasting as you do today will not make your voice heard on high,” God thunders. More to the point, the true fast, the fast that God really wants is not ceremonial, but, in Isaiah’s words, is “to loose the bonds of injustice” and “to share your bread with the hungry.” No, my friends, fasting or any other well-executed religious performance is not what God wants of us.
We hear the same message from Jesus in tonight’s Gospel reading. Actually, I don’t feel so bad about having begun with a joke, because our Lord also has used humor, or more accurately, exaggeration to get his point across. With great humor he offers an elaborate parody of the key religious practices of his day, alms-giving, prayer, and fasting. Jesus was originally speaking to his disciples. In his recounting of this speech for his community Matthew has couched it in terms that they can understand. But we can easily imagine Jesus saying something similar to us. “Look,” he might say, “that person over there is making a great show of putting a hundred-dollar bill in the collection plate, while the people next to hin want all their neighbors to know that not only do they tithe, they give twenty percent of their income to the church. Meanwhile, the folks over there are praying so hard, I can hardly hear myself preach. They may mean well, but really! And the folks up here must surely have been fasting all day. They’re certainly making sure that everyone knows how miserable they are.”
Yes, Jesus has parodied religious performance in this speech, but he does so in order to teach us a deeper lesson. Before we consider that deeper lesson, let’s consider what Jesus is not saying here. Alms-giving, prayer, and fasting were and still are key elements of Jewish religious practice, as they of our practice. In fact, alms-giving, prayer, and fasting are practiced in just about every religious tradition. Muslims, Hindus, Buddhists, and many others regularly give to the poor, pray, and fast. Jesus is not saying that we are not to do these things. Indeed, the church specifically recommends that we pay extra attention to these areas of religious discipline during Lent. Nor is Jesus saying that these disciplines should be pursued only in private. Jesus was as well aware as anyone of the importance of corporate worship, observance of communal fasts, and efforts to alleviate poverty and injustice.
The question that Jesus poses to his disciples, his first-century followers, and us is “Why are you doing these things?” What is our motivation? What do we hope to get out of taking on these practices? What reward are we expecting? Are we looking for the approval of others? I suppose that could have been motivation in the first century, but surely not for us. We know that most people on the other side of the red doors couldn’t care less about our prayer, fasting, or alms-giving. Although one writer does suggest that we ought to be more public rather than less public about what we do, so that others may know that there are still some people of faith around. Well, then, are we motivated to engage in spiritual disciplines out of a desire for the satisfaction of thinking that we did what’s expected, fulfilled all our obligations? Perhaps so, although, again, in the twenty-first century there surely is little social pressure on anyone to do anything remotely spiritual. Whatever the source of that motivation, it’s probably internal.
No, says Jesus, our motivation for doing anything in the way of prayer, fasting, and alms-giving should be to obtain God’s reward. Ah, here is the question I’ve been wrestling with. What is the reward of my “Father who sees in secret?” There’s a future-oriented answer to this question, which is that the Father’s reward is acceptance into the kingdom of heaven and the grant of eternal life. But is my reward for faithfulness only pie in the sky when I die? I don’t think so. As I’ve been wrestling with this question, I’ve come to realize that there’s a much deeper reward for engaging in our three-fold practices. And not only in Lent, but at least in Lent, our tithe of the year so to speak. As they were and are for Jews, ourselves, and everyone else, our traditional Lenten observances, as well as other spiritual disciplines, are signs and aids to inner growth and transformation. And so our reward for keeping them, in a word, is deeper friendship with God, deeper participation in the community of love that is at the heart of God. Through prayer we gain a deeper sense of God’s great love for us. Through fasting, we gain a deeper sense of how dependent we are on God for all that we have in this life, and through alms-giving we gain a deeper sense of the needs of God’s other children, our sisters and brothers in the world. As we reach out to others, and especially to the “neighbors we have from you,” as we have been singing this Epiphany tide, we are strengthened in our ability to fulfill the promises we made to God at our baptisms and which we reaffirm with every baptism we witness. Through prayer, fasting, and alms-giving ultimately we are rewarded with more complete growth into Christ, more complete transformation into the people we were truly created to be.
Lent is a solemn and penitential season. During these forty days we are asked to consider our sins and shortcomings, all the ways in which we have missed God’s mark. But Lent is not a sad season. Lent is a gift from God. It is a time when we may begin drawing closer to God. Most especially it is a time when we may, through prayer, fasting, and alms-giving, begin to know the depth of God’s love for us, made known to us in Christ Jesus, and the yearning of God to draw us into that blessed community of love. I wish you a holy and most blessed Lent.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Your Young People Shall See Visions
Have any of you had a vision of God? Have you ever had a deep sense of God’s presence with you? Have you ever felt, more deeply than words can express, that Jesus truly is Emanuel, God with us? Have you ever felt that you could see, if only for a moment, through the veil of your ordinary life, into the world as it truly is? In the poem “Snow Geese,” the poet Mary Oliver shares with us one of those moments of extraordinary insight.
Oh, to love what is lovely, and will not last!
What a task
to ask
of anything, or anyone,
yet it is ours,
and not by the century or the year, but by the hours.
One fall day I heard
above me, and above the sting of the wind, a sound
I did not know, and my look shot upward; it was
A flock of snow geese, winging it
faster than the ones we usually see,
and, being the color of snow, catching the sun
so they were, in part at least, golden. I
held my breath
as we do
sometimes
to stop time
when something wonderful
has touched us
as with a match
which is lit, and bright,
but does not hurt
in the common way,
but delightfully,
as if delight
were the most serious thing
you ever felt.
The geese
flew on.
I have never
seen them again.
Maybe I will, someday, somewhere.
Maybe I won’t.
It doesn’t matter.
What matters
is that, when I saw them,
I saw them
As through the veil, secretly, joyfully, clearly.1
Well sure, you might say, poets have such visions, especially in natural “thin places.” People in the Bible have had such visions, especially the prophets. St. Paul had a profound sense of Jesus’ reality on the road to Damascus. Saints have had visions. Hildegard of Bingen had wonderful visions of God and Jesus. Francis of Assisi founded his order after Jesus came to him in a vision. Julian of Norwich spent twenty years meditating on the visions she had had during a nearly fatal illness. Even Kent Annan, the founder of Haiti Partners, had a vision of building a house in Port au Prince and helping to make life better for today’s Haitians. But we, we ordinary people, we rational, modern, scientifically educated, dull people, we don’t have visions, we don’t sense God’s presence with us that deeply. No? I wonder. Maybe some of us do.
Certainly Peter, James, and John were as ordinary as we are, just as rational, perhaps not as well educated, but just as dull as we are. And yet, led by Jesus, they had a most extraordinary vision on that mountain, a most extraordinary vision of Jesus as he is, a most extraordinary sense of God’s presence. Since Matthew’s Gospel was written more than forty years after the events that it recounts, it’s hard to know exactly what happened to the disciples that day. We do know that the week before this event, Peter had avowed that he believed Jesus to be God’s anointed, the Messiah. When Jesus then began preparing the disciples for what lay ahead of him in Jerusalem, condemnation, death, and resurrection, Peter refused to believe Jesus’ words. Perhaps to confirm Peter’s confession, perhaps to allay Peter’s and the other disciples’ fears, Jesus led the three of them up a mountain where they had an experience that must have defied words – defied words at least until Jesus was raised from the dead. As the story of that event has come down to us, we hear clear echoes of similar events in the Hebrew Bible: the six days, the three witnesses, the white clothes, the cloud, and the mention of tents or tabernacles are all part of Hebrew Bible stories. What is most important, the presence of Moses and Elijah, remind us that, for his disciples, Jesus was the new lawgiver, the new Moses, and the fulfillment of all the visions of the Hebrew prophets.
More than a deeper understanding of Jesus as the new Moses and fulfillment of the old prophecies, the disciples also glimpsed for a moment Jesus’ divine nature. They had a vision! Impulsive Peter, trying to hold onto this vision, began to babble about building dwellings. Then the disciples had an even deeper sense of God’s presence. They felt as if God had surrounded them, interrupted Peter, repeated what had been said at Jesus’ baptism, and commanded them to listen to Jesus. And what was their reaction to this intense experience of God’s presence? What would your experience be? They fell down in terror! But then something truly extraordinary happened. Jesus had compassion on them and touched them. Putting his hand on their shoulders, he told them to stand up and to not be afraid. Then he graciously led them back down the mountain, to Jerusalem, to witness to his death and resurrection, and to create a new community bonded to him.
I believe that for many of us Jesus does leap off the pages of Scripture as God gives us brief glimpses of Jesus’ true nature. I believe that many of us do have intense experiences of God’s presence with us. We may disbelieve such experiences, just as Ebenezer Scrooge did when Marley’s ghost visited him. Do you remember his reaction to Marley? When the ghost asks, "Why do you doubt your senses?" Scrooge scoffs that "...a little thing affects them. A slight disorder of the stomach makes them cheat. You may be an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of an underdone potato. There's more of gravy than of grave about you, whatever you are!" Or we too may be terrified at the prospect of truly encountering God and so stay as far away from God as possible. Martin Luther, the initiator of the Protestant Reformation in Germany, endured profound spiritual anguish in his younger years. The story is told that in the midst of this crisis, he celebrated his first mass as a priest. When he lifted up the bread and wine towards God, now become Christ’s Body and Blood, he was so terrified that he nearly fainted.2 To help him overcome his fear, his mentor removed him from the parish and let him return to study of the Scriptures.
We may disbelieve our senses and discount our visions or our intimations of God’s presence. We may be so terrified of truly encountering God that we too keep as far from God as we can. But we too may also be gifted by God with deeper understanding of who Jesus is, we too may be offered a deeper experience of God’s presence in our lives. And God offers us these gifts for the same reason that God graciously offered them to Peter, James, and John. Visions of Jesus and experiences of God’s presence transform us. When we truly know Jesus as Emanuel, God with us, then we begin to get a deeper sense of how much God loves us. I recently discovered a book called Living Loved by Peter Wallace. It’s a series of meditations on God’s love based on the Gospel of John in Eugene Peterson’s version, The Message. I was going to start working through the meditations as a Lenten discipline, but I decided to start sooner. As meditations like these make God’s deep love for us more and more real, we can hope to be better able to share God’s love with others. And that’s the second reason for God’s gift of visions to us. As we appreciate God’s reality and God’s love for all humanity, we are strengthened for God’s service to others, and we will be better able to appreciate that God’s love extends to all humanity. Most important, our deepened understanding of Jesus as God with us, our deeper sense of God’s nearness and presence in our lives strengthens our trust in God and our hope for the future. The glimpse of Jesus’ true reality that God gives us in the vision of his transfiguration is also a glimpse of what we ourselves might become. This is the core of our hope as Christians: that God in Jesus became what we are, so that we might become what God is.
Any such vision we might have of Jesus, any deeper sense of God’s presence with us, are always gifts of God. Although we can allow ourselves to be open to God in silence and prayer, we cannot compel such deeper experiences of God. God must lead us into them, just as Jesus led the disciples up the mountain. Nor are these experiences ends in themselves. They are always given to us to deepen our faith, uphold us during difficult times, and enable us to draw others into the circle of God’s love. And so we pray for continued vision of Jesus as God with us and continued transformation into Jesus’ likeness. “Lord, change us and we shall be changed, transform us by your love, redeem us by your grace, strengthen us by your presence, that we may move from glory to glory; through Christ our Lord, who with the Holy Spirit reigns with you, O Father, in glory everlasting, Amen.”3
1. Mary Oliver, “Snow Geese,” New and Selected Poems, Vol. 2 (Boston: Beacon Press, 2005), 82-3.
2. Recounted by Diana Butler Bass, A People’s History of Christianity (New York: Harper Collins, 2009), 163-4.
3. David Adam, Clouds and Glory (Harrisburg, PA: Morehouse, 2001), 43.
Oh, to love what is lovely, and will not last!
What a task
to ask
of anything, or anyone,
yet it is ours,
and not by the century or the year, but by the hours.
One fall day I heard
above me, and above the sting of the wind, a sound
I did not know, and my look shot upward; it was
A flock of snow geese, winging it
faster than the ones we usually see,
and, being the color of snow, catching the sun
so they were, in part at least, golden. I
held my breath
as we do
sometimes
to stop time
when something wonderful
has touched us
as with a match
which is lit, and bright,
but does not hurt
in the common way,
but delightfully,
as if delight
were the most serious thing
you ever felt.
The geese
flew on.
I have never
seen them again.
Maybe I will, someday, somewhere.
Maybe I won’t.
It doesn’t matter.
What matters
is that, when I saw them,
I saw them
As through the veil, secretly, joyfully, clearly.1
Well sure, you might say, poets have such visions, especially in natural “thin places.” People in the Bible have had such visions, especially the prophets. St. Paul had a profound sense of Jesus’ reality on the road to Damascus. Saints have had visions. Hildegard of Bingen had wonderful visions of God and Jesus. Francis of Assisi founded his order after Jesus came to him in a vision. Julian of Norwich spent twenty years meditating on the visions she had had during a nearly fatal illness. Even Kent Annan, the founder of Haiti Partners, had a vision of building a house in Port au Prince and helping to make life better for today’s Haitians. But we, we ordinary people, we rational, modern, scientifically educated, dull people, we don’t have visions, we don’t sense God’s presence with us that deeply. No? I wonder. Maybe some of us do.
Certainly Peter, James, and John were as ordinary as we are, just as rational, perhaps not as well educated, but just as dull as we are. And yet, led by Jesus, they had a most extraordinary vision on that mountain, a most extraordinary vision of Jesus as he is, a most extraordinary sense of God’s presence. Since Matthew’s Gospel was written more than forty years after the events that it recounts, it’s hard to know exactly what happened to the disciples that day. We do know that the week before this event, Peter had avowed that he believed Jesus to be God’s anointed, the Messiah. When Jesus then began preparing the disciples for what lay ahead of him in Jerusalem, condemnation, death, and resurrection, Peter refused to believe Jesus’ words. Perhaps to confirm Peter’s confession, perhaps to allay Peter’s and the other disciples’ fears, Jesus led the three of them up a mountain where they had an experience that must have defied words – defied words at least until Jesus was raised from the dead. As the story of that event has come down to us, we hear clear echoes of similar events in the Hebrew Bible: the six days, the three witnesses, the white clothes, the cloud, and the mention of tents or tabernacles are all part of Hebrew Bible stories. What is most important, the presence of Moses and Elijah, remind us that, for his disciples, Jesus was the new lawgiver, the new Moses, and the fulfillment of all the visions of the Hebrew prophets.
More than a deeper understanding of Jesus as the new Moses and fulfillment of the old prophecies, the disciples also glimpsed for a moment Jesus’ divine nature. They had a vision! Impulsive Peter, trying to hold onto this vision, began to babble about building dwellings. Then the disciples had an even deeper sense of God’s presence. They felt as if God had surrounded them, interrupted Peter, repeated what had been said at Jesus’ baptism, and commanded them to listen to Jesus. And what was their reaction to this intense experience of God’s presence? What would your experience be? They fell down in terror! But then something truly extraordinary happened. Jesus had compassion on them and touched them. Putting his hand on their shoulders, he told them to stand up and to not be afraid. Then he graciously led them back down the mountain, to Jerusalem, to witness to his death and resurrection, and to create a new community bonded to him.
I believe that for many of us Jesus does leap off the pages of Scripture as God gives us brief glimpses of Jesus’ true nature. I believe that many of us do have intense experiences of God’s presence with us. We may disbelieve such experiences, just as Ebenezer Scrooge did when Marley’s ghost visited him. Do you remember his reaction to Marley? When the ghost asks, "Why do you doubt your senses?" Scrooge scoffs that "...a little thing affects them. A slight disorder of the stomach makes them cheat. You may be an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of an underdone potato. There's more of gravy than of grave about you, whatever you are!" Or we too may be terrified at the prospect of truly encountering God and so stay as far away from God as possible. Martin Luther, the initiator of the Protestant Reformation in Germany, endured profound spiritual anguish in his younger years. The story is told that in the midst of this crisis, he celebrated his first mass as a priest. When he lifted up the bread and wine towards God, now become Christ’s Body and Blood, he was so terrified that he nearly fainted.2 To help him overcome his fear, his mentor removed him from the parish and let him return to study of the Scriptures.
We may disbelieve our senses and discount our visions or our intimations of God’s presence. We may be so terrified of truly encountering God that we too keep as far from God as we can. But we too may also be gifted by God with deeper understanding of who Jesus is, we too may be offered a deeper experience of God’s presence in our lives. And God offers us these gifts for the same reason that God graciously offered them to Peter, James, and John. Visions of Jesus and experiences of God’s presence transform us. When we truly know Jesus as Emanuel, God with us, then we begin to get a deeper sense of how much God loves us. I recently discovered a book called Living Loved by Peter Wallace. It’s a series of meditations on God’s love based on the Gospel of John in Eugene Peterson’s version, The Message. I was going to start working through the meditations as a Lenten discipline, but I decided to start sooner. As meditations like these make God’s deep love for us more and more real, we can hope to be better able to share God’s love with others. And that’s the second reason for God’s gift of visions to us. As we appreciate God’s reality and God’s love for all humanity, we are strengthened for God’s service to others, and we will be better able to appreciate that God’s love extends to all humanity. Most important, our deepened understanding of Jesus as God with us, our deeper sense of God’s nearness and presence in our lives strengthens our trust in God and our hope for the future. The glimpse of Jesus’ true reality that God gives us in the vision of his transfiguration is also a glimpse of what we ourselves might become. This is the core of our hope as Christians: that God in Jesus became what we are, so that we might become what God is.
Any such vision we might have of Jesus, any deeper sense of God’s presence with us, are always gifts of God. Although we can allow ourselves to be open to God in silence and prayer, we cannot compel such deeper experiences of God. God must lead us into them, just as Jesus led the disciples up the mountain. Nor are these experiences ends in themselves. They are always given to us to deepen our faith, uphold us during difficult times, and enable us to draw others into the circle of God’s love. And so we pray for continued vision of Jesus as God with us and continued transformation into Jesus’ likeness. “Lord, change us and we shall be changed, transform us by your love, redeem us by your grace, strengthen us by your presence, that we may move from glory to glory; through Christ our Lord, who with the Holy Spirit reigns with you, O Father, in glory everlasting, Amen.”3
1. Mary Oliver, “Snow Geese,” New and Selected Poems, Vol. 2 (Boston: Beacon Press, 2005), 82-3.
2. Recounted by Diana Butler Bass, A People’s History of Christianity (New York: Harper Collins, 2009), 163-4.
3. David Adam, Clouds and Glory (Harrisburg, PA: Morehouse, 2001), 43.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Are God's Priorities My Priorities?
I hate today’s Gospel passage. I hate the choice that Jesus presents to the disciples gathered round him, disciples who have probably left everything to follow him. I hate that they have to make a clear choice about whose servant they will be. I hate Jesus’ implied suggestion that worrying about everything they own undermines their loyalty to God. I hate the clear command Jesus gives the disciples that they are to put God and God’s righteousness first in their lives.
Following Jesus’ command, making the right choice, could not have been easy, either for Jesus’ disciples, or for the Christian community to whom Matthew addressed his Gospel. Ancient Mediterranean culture placed a high value on personal and family honor. For religious leaders, Jews who were serious about maintaining the distinctiveness of the Jewish community, maintaining personal honor involved being scrupulous about what one ate, especially following the minutiae of the dietary laws, wearing distinctive dress, and bearing the cost of numerous required ritual sacrifices. For wealthy Gentiles, maintaining personal and family honor required conspicuous consumption, especially in food and dress, but also in the possession of houses, furniture, and animals. For the poor, of course, ensuring access to the basic necessities of life, to adequate food, sufficient clothing, and adequate shelter, was an ongoing struggle, probably on a daily basis. I would guess that neither Jews nor Gentiles, neither wealthy nor poor, appreciated being confronted by Jesus. None of them wanted to hear Jesus’ suggestion that concern about material things undermined their ability to serve God.
Any more than we do. Any more than I do. It seems as if Matthew always confronts me with a very clear choice. Today, I have no choice but to ask myself what has been the highest priority in my life? As I look back on my own life, I might wonder where my highest priority really has been. Oh, easy, you might say, you gave up a dean’s position at a large university to become a parish priest. True enough. But then I look around at all my stuff. In 1972, when my husband and I moved from Madison, Wisconsin, where I’d been a graduate student, to Tucson, Arizona, where I started as a faculty member at the University of Arizona, everything we owned fit into a Ford Econoline van and the trunk of a ’68 Valiant. In 1990, with three children in tow, it took a moving van to get us to Maine, and another one to get us to Ohio seven years later. Of late Jack and I have been sorting through our “stuff,” including giving away the best of the thirty-two boxes of scholarly books that came out of my Arizona office. We’ve donated a lot of books back to Wisconsin and given a lot of other things to charity, but we still have a lot of stuff, in addition to two cars, three computers, two TVs, two ipods, two smart phones, and now a Kindle – which I like a lot! So what’s been my choice? Whom do I serve? God or stuff? Hopefully, on most days, the answer is, “God.” Because I know deep down that Jesus is right, that God is more important to me than accumulating a lot of stuff, and that worrying about all my stuff really does undermine my loyalty to God.
Dare I say any of this in our American consumerist society? Dare I even question my own loyalties? In order to get the U.S. out of recession, don’t we have to keep buying, buying, buying? Whether it’s the latest in designer jeans or tech toys, we can’t turn on the TV or open a newspaper without being assailed by invitations to buy more, or at least to trade up to the latest version of our favorite gadgets. In this country a whole new industry has sprung up: storage lockers to hold all the stuff that no longer fits in our bursting houses!
At this point, you might be saying, O.K., Mother Leslie, we get it. We have too much stuff. So what’s the good news? Let me begin to answer that question first by suggesting what Jesus does not seem to be telling the disciples here. Jesus is not telling the disciples not to work hard. He is not telling them to become beggars. He is not telling them to give up all their possessions – although you might remember that in Luke he tells the rich young man to sell everything he had, give the proceeds to the poor, and follow him. For some people that might be the right course, but Jesus is not necessarily saying that here. Jesus is also not telling his disciples to be utterly thoughtless about the future, not telling them to be unconcerned about adequately providing for their families. What he is telling them is that they don’t need to be anxious about whether they have enough stuff, or about what the future might hold for them. They are to remember that they have been called into a community with a new and different set of values, a community with values that are more closely aligned with God’s perspective than with the values of the either the religious leaders or the Roman conquerors. As his disciples they are no longer required to worry about ostentatiously displaying their possessions or heaping up produce in their barns against a possible disaster. Through Jesus, the disciples have bound themselves to a God who cares for them and all creation, who loves them even more than a mother loves a child she has nursed, who loves them, the birds, the flowers, the rest of the animals, indeed all creation. Through Jesus they are liberated from concern about possessions and free to love God and their neighbors as Jesus himself loves them.
And so for us. Through our baptisms, through our own inclusion in the Body of Christ, through our deepening commitment to God, we too are called to live our lives by different standards. We too can be liberated from the consumerist culture around us. We too are free from anxiety about the necessities of life. We are not called to be idle or lazy, we are not called to sponge off rich friends, we are not called to forget about adequately providing for our families, churches, and chosen charitable organizations. Most certainly, we are not called to forget about the needs of the poor. Indeed towards the end of Matthew’s Gospel, in chapter 25, we will hear Jesus reminding us that those who fed the hungry, gave a drink to the thirsty, welcomed the stranger, clothed the naked, tended the sick, and visited prisoners will be joyfully blessed by God.
In all this, Jesus is reminding us, as we pursue our vocations, as we use the resources that God has given us, that we must continue to question our life choices and what they show about the object of our loyalty. We must continue think about the standards by which we live. We must ponder whether our life choices have been made with God’s perspective in mind or only to fulfill our own selfish desires. And we need to look at our reasons for acquiring what we have, not once, not annually, but daily. When you review your day, ask yourself whether your checkbook or the possessions with which you have surrounded yourself reflect a commitment to God’s standards, and whether you are truly living into the standards of God’s reign.
Beginning to live up to God’s standards will look different for different people. Some people are called to follow Francis of Assisi into holy poverty. Many of today’s members of religious orders have made that choice. Some have chosen to work in the poorest parts of the world like the sisters of our own Community of the Transfiguration, some of whom work at the Centro Buen Pastor in the Dominican Republic. Some are called to live among the urban poor in what one writer has called “the abandoned places of empire.” Greg Lanham, Jonathan Youngman, and Jonathan Ryder, for example, started the Franklinton Cycle Works in Columbus to provide restored used bicycles to people, especially to the marginalized people of Franklinton, and to train others to repair and maintain bicycles. And some are simply called to vocations that by their very nature provide only a modest standard of living. David Leininger* tells of his father, a minister, who both faithfully tithed and supported other charities. There were few luxuries in his home, but his family always had all the necessities. All six of his children went to college. Never anxious, Milton Leininger was confident that God would provide for his needs. And when he died, the congregation he had so faithfully served commissioned a bronze plaque in his honor. On its base were the words he had lived his life by, “Seek ye first, the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you.”
As we approach Lent, all of us are called to prayerfully consider our uses of our God-given resources. Perhaps these questions can guide our reflections. Is my relationship with stuff what Jesus would have it be? Am I enabling God to work through me to provide for the poor? Am I participating with God in the healing and nurturing of creation? Are God’s standards guiding my resource decisions? Most importantly, are God’s priorities my priorities?
* In Lectionary Tales for the Pulpit (Lima Ohio: CSS Publishing Co, 2007), pp. 49-50.
Following Jesus’ command, making the right choice, could not have been easy, either for Jesus’ disciples, or for the Christian community to whom Matthew addressed his Gospel. Ancient Mediterranean culture placed a high value on personal and family honor. For religious leaders, Jews who were serious about maintaining the distinctiveness of the Jewish community, maintaining personal honor involved being scrupulous about what one ate, especially following the minutiae of the dietary laws, wearing distinctive dress, and bearing the cost of numerous required ritual sacrifices. For wealthy Gentiles, maintaining personal and family honor required conspicuous consumption, especially in food and dress, but also in the possession of houses, furniture, and animals. For the poor, of course, ensuring access to the basic necessities of life, to adequate food, sufficient clothing, and adequate shelter, was an ongoing struggle, probably on a daily basis. I would guess that neither Jews nor Gentiles, neither wealthy nor poor, appreciated being confronted by Jesus. None of them wanted to hear Jesus’ suggestion that concern about material things undermined their ability to serve God.
Any more than we do. Any more than I do. It seems as if Matthew always confronts me with a very clear choice. Today, I have no choice but to ask myself what has been the highest priority in my life? As I look back on my own life, I might wonder where my highest priority really has been. Oh, easy, you might say, you gave up a dean’s position at a large university to become a parish priest. True enough. But then I look around at all my stuff. In 1972, when my husband and I moved from Madison, Wisconsin, where I’d been a graduate student, to Tucson, Arizona, where I started as a faculty member at the University of Arizona, everything we owned fit into a Ford Econoline van and the trunk of a ’68 Valiant. In 1990, with three children in tow, it took a moving van to get us to Maine, and another one to get us to Ohio seven years later. Of late Jack and I have been sorting through our “stuff,” including giving away the best of the thirty-two boxes of scholarly books that came out of my Arizona office. We’ve donated a lot of books back to Wisconsin and given a lot of other things to charity, but we still have a lot of stuff, in addition to two cars, three computers, two TVs, two ipods, two smart phones, and now a Kindle – which I like a lot! So what’s been my choice? Whom do I serve? God or stuff? Hopefully, on most days, the answer is, “God.” Because I know deep down that Jesus is right, that God is more important to me than accumulating a lot of stuff, and that worrying about all my stuff really does undermine my loyalty to God.
Dare I say any of this in our American consumerist society? Dare I even question my own loyalties? In order to get the U.S. out of recession, don’t we have to keep buying, buying, buying? Whether it’s the latest in designer jeans or tech toys, we can’t turn on the TV or open a newspaper without being assailed by invitations to buy more, or at least to trade up to the latest version of our favorite gadgets. In this country a whole new industry has sprung up: storage lockers to hold all the stuff that no longer fits in our bursting houses!
At this point, you might be saying, O.K., Mother Leslie, we get it. We have too much stuff. So what’s the good news? Let me begin to answer that question first by suggesting what Jesus does not seem to be telling the disciples here. Jesus is not telling the disciples not to work hard. He is not telling them to become beggars. He is not telling them to give up all their possessions – although you might remember that in Luke he tells the rich young man to sell everything he had, give the proceeds to the poor, and follow him. For some people that might be the right course, but Jesus is not necessarily saying that here. Jesus is also not telling his disciples to be utterly thoughtless about the future, not telling them to be unconcerned about adequately providing for their families. What he is telling them is that they don’t need to be anxious about whether they have enough stuff, or about what the future might hold for them. They are to remember that they have been called into a community with a new and different set of values, a community with values that are more closely aligned with God’s perspective than with the values of the either the religious leaders or the Roman conquerors. As his disciples they are no longer required to worry about ostentatiously displaying their possessions or heaping up produce in their barns against a possible disaster. Through Jesus, the disciples have bound themselves to a God who cares for them and all creation, who loves them even more than a mother loves a child she has nursed, who loves them, the birds, the flowers, the rest of the animals, indeed all creation. Through Jesus they are liberated from concern about possessions and free to love God and their neighbors as Jesus himself loves them.
And so for us. Through our baptisms, through our own inclusion in the Body of Christ, through our deepening commitment to God, we too are called to live our lives by different standards. We too can be liberated from the consumerist culture around us. We too are free from anxiety about the necessities of life. We are not called to be idle or lazy, we are not called to sponge off rich friends, we are not called to forget about adequately providing for our families, churches, and chosen charitable organizations. Most certainly, we are not called to forget about the needs of the poor. Indeed towards the end of Matthew’s Gospel, in chapter 25, we will hear Jesus reminding us that those who fed the hungry, gave a drink to the thirsty, welcomed the stranger, clothed the naked, tended the sick, and visited prisoners will be joyfully blessed by God.
In all this, Jesus is reminding us, as we pursue our vocations, as we use the resources that God has given us, that we must continue to question our life choices and what they show about the object of our loyalty. We must continue think about the standards by which we live. We must ponder whether our life choices have been made with God’s perspective in mind or only to fulfill our own selfish desires. And we need to look at our reasons for acquiring what we have, not once, not annually, but daily. When you review your day, ask yourself whether your checkbook or the possessions with which you have surrounded yourself reflect a commitment to God’s standards, and whether you are truly living into the standards of God’s reign.
Beginning to live up to God’s standards will look different for different people. Some people are called to follow Francis of Assisi into holy poverty. Many of today’s members of religious orders have made that choice. Some have chosen to work in the poorest parts of the world like the sisters of our own Community of the Transfiguration, some of whom work at the Centro Buen Pastor in the Dominican Republic. Some are called to live among the urban poor in what one writer has called “the abandoned places of empire.” Greg Lanham, Jonathan Youngman, and Jonathan Ryder, for example, started the Franklinton Cycle Works in Columbus to provide restored used bicycles to people, especially to the marginalized people of Franklinton, and to train others to repair and maintain bicycles. And some are simply called to vocations that by their very nature provide only a modest standard of living. David Leininger* tells of his father, a minister, who both faithfully tithed and supported other charities. There were few luxuries in his home, but his family always had all the necessities. All six of his children went to college. Never anxious, Milton Leininger was confident that God would provide for his needs. And when he died, the congregation he had so faithfully served commissioned a bronze plaque in his honor. On its base were the words he had lived his life by, “Seek ye first, the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you.”
As we approach Lent, all of us are called to prayerfully consider our uses of our God-given resources. Perhaps these questions can guide our reflections. Is my relationship with stuff what Jesus would have it be? Am I enabling God to work through me to provide for the poor? Am I participating with God in the healing and nurturing of creation? Are God’s standards guiding my resource decisions? Most importantly, are God’s priorities my priorities?
* In Lectionary Tales for the Pulpit (Lima Ohio: CSS Publishing Co, 2007), pp. 49-50.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
You Shall Be Holy
Have any of you read the Bible straight through? Some of you may have read the New Testament through. But I’d guess that even those of you who have read a lot of the Bible have not read Leviticus straight through. In our Sunday lections we now hear significant parts of the Old Testament. We hear Genesis and Exodus, and some from Deuteronomy, and we pray a lot of the Psalter. We hear parts of Job, parts of Isaiah, and Jeremiah, and parts of other prophets – just a couple of weeks ago we had a lesson from the prophet Micah. Leviticus is a difficult book, especially after all the wonderful stories of bad boys and family feuds in Genesis, and the deliverance from Egyptian oppression followed by forty years in the wilderness in Exodus. Perhaps that’s why this Sunday is the only Sunday in the entire three-year lectionary that we hear a reading from Leviticus.
Perhaps we should hear Leviticus more often – despite its difficulty. Much of the Old Testament was compiled and edited after the Jews returned to Israel from Exile, i.e., in the years following 539 BC. Because it is a compilation of a lot of different kinds of writings, the Old Testament is really like a library, a library of the ways people have debated, argued about, and experienced God’s interaction with the Jewish people. A central theme of the Old Testament writings has been the working out of God’s covenantal relationship with the Jews.
Leviticus is the middle book of the Torah, the first five books of the Old Testament. It contains four main sections dealing with how to perform sacrifices, how to ordain priests, a section that is called the Holiness Code, and an appendix. And I don’t recommend reading any of it without a commentary! The Holiness Code, chapters 17 through 26, is where today’s reading comes from. As you might guess from the portion you heard, this section lays out in concrete detail, exactly what it means to choose life, to keep God’s covenant, in a word, to obey God.
When we really listen to what God is telling the people here through Moses, we hear some pretty startling commands. They hear that if they truly want to obey God they are to treat God’s people with justice and integrity. They are to share their wealth with the poor and the alien, and they are to be honest in all testimony and dealings with others. Here’s a shocker: they are to treat their employees fairly! They are to care for the disabled, pursue justice, and practice righteousness within their families and communities. They are to forgo vengeance and love their neighbors as themselves. In a sense, they’ve been given a distillation of the whole law – all the rest really is commentary. And the main thesis is simple: love of God and love of neighbor are integrally related. How are they to show that they love God? By loving their neighbor! And why are they to do this? So that they can be holy, just as God is holy: “You shall be holy, for I the Lord your God am holy.”
Five centuries later, the disciples gathered around Jesus heard much the same thing from him. Unquestionably, Jesus knew his Leviticus! But to the perspective of Leviticus Jesus adds another element, that of love that goes beyond what is strictly required. Most particularly, Jesus adds the declaration that the disciples were to love their enemies and pray for those who persecuted them – much as he himself would do on the Cross. And then we discover that the reason for doing all these things is the same for Jesus’ disciples as it was for the people who heard God speaking through Moses: “Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.”
“You shall be holy.” “Be perfect.” Can these words possibly have any relevance for us? Now we know why we haven’t read Leviticus. Yes, it’s a dense book filled with references to ancient social practices. But the real reason is that we know we can’t live up to God’s standards – any more than the ancient Jews could. Worse yet, we know that in this broken and sinful world, we can’t live up to Jesus’ standards either. “Be perfect?” What were you thinking, Jesus? O.K. maybe a few saintly people have been able to live up to such standards. People like the Desert Fathers and Mothers, like Francis of Assisi, Julian of Norwich, Toyohiko Kagawa, a Japanese Christian labor reformer, or Mother Teresa. But surely you can’t expect the rest of us to be holy and perfect, can you?
Let’s look a little more closely at what those words really mean. The basic meaning of the word that Jesus uses is “complete, having fully attained its purpose, mature.” Isn’t Jesus calling us to grow from where we are into a more mature faith, a more Christ-like way of living? Isn’t Jesus calling us to be different from the world around us? God was certainly calling the Jews to be a community different from the cultures around them. The word holy, which Leviticus uses, means “set apart.” When the word is applied to things, it means dedicated to God’s use – like our communion vessels, or even this building. When the word is applied to God, it reminds us that God is “other,” different from humanity. A writer in a recent Christian Century magazine suggested that a good synonym for holy would be “odd.” Odd? What if Jesus were really saying, “Be odd, therefore, as your heavenly Father is odd?” What? That’s the last thing some of us want to be. We want to fit in, to be normal. Perhaps God was calling the Israelites and Jesus is calling us to be something new and different.
Let’s hear again those words from Leviticus: “You shall be holy, for I the Lord your God am holy.” Of course there is an implied command in the words, but couldn’t this also be a declarative sentence? Could God be telling us, that in God’s company we become more like God? Perhaps we’ve not only been created in God’s image, but are also called to be other, apart, a separate community, just as God is other. Even as God fills all things yet is wholly other, so God’s people are part of humanity, yet also set apart. God’s people are called to a way of life that is different from that of rest of the world. Being holy or perfect means swimming against the tide of the ways of the world and straining towards being more like God. We know being more like God is hard work. Yet when we feel tempted to give up, we can hear again God’s promise: “You shall be holy.”
And how can we continue to hear that promise, so that we can grow in holiness and become more mature Christians? You know the importance I place on the sacraments, how important it is for us to allow Jesus to nourish us with his Body and Blood week by week. You know also the importance I place on mission, on service to others, on the importance of showing our love of God in the way we treat others. But hear again God’s promise: “In My company, you become more like Me.” The holiness and maturity to which both these lections call us ultimately grows out of an internal change of heart that then can be seen in a changed life. As we deepen our relationship with God, as we are led further and further into the heart of God, the standards of this world are less and less important to us. The desire to imitate God by loving others becomes more and more important.
And the way to deepen our relationship with God? Seeking God every day of our lives. Finding times and ways to pray every day. If you do nothing else, here’s a simple way to seek God on a daily basis. Open your prayer books to p. 138. Spend a minute or two in silence, then pray the brief Noonday prayer. It takes about two minutes and can be done anywhere. If you want the five-minute version of Noonday prayer, it can be found on p. 103. Lent is coming – Ash Wednesday is on March 9th. Here’s a Lenten discipline to consider: praying Noonday prayer every day in Lent. You could even start it tomorrow, even though it’s still Epiphany tide! I guarantee you that daily Noonday prayer will do more for your souls than giving up chocolate or alcohol! And if noon doesn’t work for you, notice that the prayer book provides brief forms of prayer for the morning, the early evening, and the close of day. In addition to these prayers, find some time in your day for silence with God. You’ll be surprised what the Holy Spirit can do if you listen attentively for just five minutes. And five minutes twice a day? Even better. You may or may not have any high “ecstatic” experiences. That’s not the point. The point is to draw nearer to God, to let God begin to shape and mold you, to let God continue the process of growth into holiness and completeness that began with your baptism. I assure you, that once we place ourselves in God’s company, God will make good God’s promises to us. Out of our silence, God will help us to live with simplicity, pursue social justice, and seek peace. God will help us to grow in holiness and lead us into a deeper faith. Thanks be to God!
Perhaps we should hear Leviticus more often – despite its difficulty. Much of the Old Testament was compiled and edited after the Jews returned to Israel from Exile, i.e., in the years following 539 BC. Because it is a compilation of a lot of different kinds of writings, the Old Testament is really like a library, a library of the ways people have debated, argued about, and experienced God’s interaction with the Jewish people. A central theme of the Old Testament writings has been the working out of God’s covenantal relationship with the Jews.
Leviticus is the middle book of the Torah, the first five books of the Old Testament. It contains four main sections dealing with how to perform sacrifices, how to ordain priests, a section that is called the Holiness Code, and an appendix. And I don’t recommend reading any of it without a commentary! The Holiness Code, chapters 17 through 26, is where today’s reading comes from. As you might guess from the portion you heard, this section lays out in concrete detail, exactly what it means to choose life, to keep God’s covenant, in a word, to obey God.
When we really listen to what God is telling the people here through Moses, we hear some pretty startling commands. They hear that if they truly want to obey God they are to treat God’s people with justice and integrity. They are to share their wealth with the poor and the alien, and they are to be honest in all testimony and dealings with others. Here’s a shocker: they are to treat their employees fairly! They are to care for the disabled, pursue justice, and practice righteousness within their families and communities. They are to forgo vengeance and love their neighbors as themselves. In a sense, they’ve been given a distillation of the whole law – all the rest really is commentary. And the main thesis is simple: love of God and love of neighbor are integrally related. How are they to show that they love God? By loving their neighbor! And why are they to do this? So that they can be holy, just as God is holy: “You shall be holy, for I the Lord your God am holy.”
Five centuries later, the disciples gathered around Jesus heard much the same thing from him. Unquestionably, Jesus knew his Leviticus! But to the perspective of Leviticus Jesus adds another element, that of love that goes beyond what is strictly required. Most particularly, Jesus adds the declaration that the disciples were to love their enemies and pray for those who persecuted them – much as he himself would do on the Cross. And then we discover that the reason for doing all these things is the same for Jesus’ disciples as it was for the people who heard God speaking through Moses: “Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.”
“You shall be holy.” “Be perfect.” Can these words possibly have any relevance for us? Now we know why we haven’t read Leviticus. Yes, it’s a dense book filled with references to ancient social practices. But the real reason is that we know we can’t live up to God’s standards – any more than the ancient Jews could. Worse yet, we know that in this broken and sinful world, we can’t live up to Jesus’ standards either. “Be perfect?” What were you thinking, Jesus? O.K. maybe a few saintly people have been able to live up to such standards. People like the Desert Fathers and Mothers, like Francis of Assisi, Julian of Norwich, Toyohiko Kagawa, a Japanese Christian labor reformer, or Mother Teresa. But surely you can’t expect the rest of us to be holy and perfect, can you?
Let’s look a little more closely at what those words really mean. The basic meaning of the word that Jesus uses is “complete, having fully attained its purpose, mature.” Isn’t Jesus calling us to grow from where we are into a more mature faith, a more Christ-like way of living? Isn’t Jesus calling us to be different from the world around us? God was certainly calling the Jews to be a community different from the cultures around them. The word holy, which Leviticus uses, means “set apart.” When the word is applied to things, it means dedicated to God’s use – like our communion vessels, or even this building. When the word is applied to God, it reminds us that God is “other,” different from humanity. A writer in a recent Christian Century magazine suggested that a good synonym for holy would be “odd.” Odd? What if Jesus were really saying, “Be odd, therefore, as your heavenly Father is odd?” What? That’s the last thing some of us want to be. We want to fit in, to be normal. Perhaps God was calling the Israelites and Jesus is calling us to be something new and different.
Let’s hear again those words from Leviticus: “You shall be holy, for I the Lord your God am holy.” Of course there is an implied command in the words, but couldn’t this also be a declarative sentence? Could God be telling us, that in God’s company we become more like God? Perhaps we’ve not only been created in God’s image, but are also called to be other, apart, a separate community, just as God is other. Even as God fills all things yet is wholly other, so God’s people are part of humanity, yet also set apart. God’s people are called to a way of life that is different from that of rest of the world. Being holy or perfect means swimming against the tide of the ways of the world and straining towards being more like God. We know being more like God is hard work. Yet when we feel tempted to give up, we can hear again God’s promise: “You shall be holy.”
And how can we continue to hear that promise, so that we can grow in holiness and become more mature Christians? You know the importance I place on the sacraments, how important it is for us to allow Jesus to nourish us with his Body and Blood week by week. You know also the importance I place on mission, on service to others, on the importance of showing our love of God in the way we treat others. But hear again God’s promise: “In My company, you become more like Me.” The holiness and maturity to which both these lections call us ultimately grows out of an internal change of heart that then can be seen in a changed life. As we deepen our relationship with God, as we are led further and further into the heart of God, the standards of this world are less and less important to us. The desire to imitate God by loving others becomes more and more important.
And the way to deepen our relationship with God? Seeking God every day of our lives. Finding times and ways to pray every day. If you do nothing else, here’s a simple way to seek God on a daily basis. Open your prayer books to p. 138. Spend a minute or two in silence, then pray the brief Noonday prayer. It takes about two minutes and can be done anywhere. If you want the five-minute version of Noonday prayer, it can be found on p. 103. Lent is coming – Ash Wednesday is on March 9th. Here’s a Lenten discipline to consider: praying Noonday prayer every day in Lent. You could even start it tomorrow, even though it’s still Epiphany tide! I guarantee you that daily Noonday prayer will do more for your souls than giving up chocolate or alcohol! And if noon doesn’t work for you, notice that the prayer book provides brief forms of prayer for the morning, the early evening, and the close of day. In addition to these prayers, find some time in your day for silence with God. You’ll be surprised what the Holy Spirit can do if you listen attentively for just five minutes. And five minutes twice a day? Even better. You may or may not have any high “ecstatic” experiences. That’s not the point. The point is to draw nearer to God, to let God begin to shape and mold you, to let God continue the process of growth into holiness and completeness that began with your baptism. I assure you, that once we place ourselves in God’s company, God will make good God’s promises to us. Out of our silence, God will help us to live with simplicity, pursue social justice, and seek peace. God will help us to grow in holiness and lead us into a deeper faith. Thanks be to God!
Sunday, February 13, 2011
We Are God's Fellow Workers
We’re going to begin with a little homiletic theater this morning. You may remain seated, but you’re also welcome to walk with me. The first time I came into St. Peter’s, I was struck, as are many people who see the sanctuary for the first time, by its beauty. However, it wasn’t long, as I walked around, before I began to feel surrounded by a great community of love committed to this parish and its future. We see the reflections of that committed community of love in all the windows and plaques, don’t we? Let’s just take a brief tour. And if you knew the people we name, take a moment to pray for those whom we name. [ I walk around church, reading the names on windows and plaques.] Don’t you feel that we’re surrounded by at least a small part of the “blessed company of all faithful people?”
How did all these faithful Christians come to commit themselves to a parish in this place? Many of you know the history of St. Peter’s well, having lived some of it yourselves. Some of you may be a little sketchier on that history. The Episcopal Church in Ohio dates from as early as 1804, when those who were given land grants in Ohio in exchange for service in the Revolutionary War, settled in Worthington and established St. John’s, in what was then a wilderness outpost. In 1817, the Diocese of Ohio was created, with Philander Chase, founder of Kenyon College and Bexley Hall seminary, as its first bishop. Growth in this part of the state led to the creation of a separate Diocese of Southern Ohio in 1875. St. Peter’s was part of that growth, having been established in 1841. A Vestry of twelve faithful men called the first rector, the Rev. James B. Goodwin. After meeting for worship in various places, the parish was finally able to erect this sanctuary, which was consecrated by Bishop Charles McIlvaine in April, 1859. The church that we see today, as our windows, plaques, and church records remind us, comes to us as a result of the many gifts of both money and time, and the commitment to the survival of this parish, of preceding generations. One hundred sixty-nine years later, we are now the stewards, both of this building and of this Christian community.
Those who committed their lives and their resources to this community took to heart Paul’s message to the Christian community in Corinth. You remember that the main concern that drove Paul to write to this community was the reports he had received of deep conflicts among them. He began his letter, as we heard a couple of weeks ago, by addressing head on his concern that a significant cause of the conflicts was factionalism, i.e., that people were proclaiming themselves followers of one human leader or another. In the portion of the letter we heard last week, Paul reminded the Corinthians that the Holy Spirit is the agent of the growth of the community. The Spirit’s goal for them was that they would grow up into Christ, into mature Christians ready to do and be Christ in the world. Now Paul has returned to his specific rejection of factionalism. He reminds the Corinthians that God works through all human actors. Whether it be Paul, or Apollos, or Peter, it is God working through human beings called to particular tasks. What is most important, all are part of God’s work together, all are fellow workers with God. No one can take special pride in the productivity of his or her acre in God’s field, since ultimately, all growth, all produce is a result of our cooperation with God’s grace.
Which brings us back to St. Peter’s. The time of our annual meeting is always a good time to take stock. We too are fellow workers with God. All of us who care about the continued life of this parish are in it together. All of us here, I hope, share two purposes: to continue our own formation as Christ-imbued people, to become more faithful disciples, and to see this parish community thrive and last for another 169 years in this place. If we share these purposes, then here is God calling us to do. I believe that God is calling us to continue the commitments made by those who came before us in this place. If we are to continue to grow up into Christ, if we are to continue to mature as Christians, then we need to commit ourselves to Christian education, not only for children, but for ourselves as well. Just as our bodies will starve without physical food, so too will our spirits starve without “soul food.” We have a discussion series on community ministry coming on Wednesday nights in Lent. Commit to participating in that series, regardless of whether you can come for Evening Prayer and potluck supper before the discussion sessions. Join us on Sunday mornings for a closer look at the Gospel of Matthew, which we are hearing all this church year. Or commit to reading something on your own that will stretch you and help you grow into Christ. If you need to, ask me for suggestions!
So our first commitment is to continued personal formation. Our second commitment is to support of this parish with our own resources, our own resources of treasure, time, and talent. Always, we give in gratitude for what God has given us. Always we recognize that whatever we give to God doesn’t begin to match the great gifts that God has given us. Always, we remember that “all things come of thee, O Lord, and of thine own have we given thee.” Historically, church people have returned to God a tenth of their resources, the tithe. Perhaps that’s where all the windows and other beautiful objects in this church came from. Many of us still do tithe. And those, who for good and valid reasons, cannot tithe, often honor God by at least intentionally committing whatever proportion of their resources they can afford. But notice that it’s not only some portion of our treasure that we are called to commit to God. God also calls us to return to God a portion of our time and talents. Allowing eight hours of sleep per night, all of us have 112 waking hours in a week. Can we commit 11 hours a week to good works? Could some of those 11 hours be used to enhance the life of this parish? And what about all those talents? What part of our talents have we committed to God?
So: first commitment to personal formation, second commitment to support of the church with our treasure, time, and talents. Third, God calls us to partner with God in creating a welcoming community of love in this place. I believe this means engaging in real ministry ourselves and inviting others to share ministry with us. I believe this also means committing ourselves to regular nourishment in the sacraments and inviting others to partake of God’s nourishment with us. We can, and do, put out tracts and pamphlets. We can, and do, send out flyers, place notices in print media, and send out an electronic newsletter. We can, and do, have a web site and a Facebook page. But what counts most in creating a vital and thriving community is personal encounter with others who are growing into mature Christians, personal encounter with those who are become more and more Christ-like.
No one person can do all of this, least of all your priest. We are all needed in this joint venture together. By virtue of our baptisms, we all have a ministry. Truth be told, as I look back on the history of St. Peter’s, I see active lay people who indeed worked hard to see this parish flourish. After the first twelve Vestry men called the first rector, others gave gifts and raised funds for the parish through operettas, suppers, a Pancake festival, a Dairymaid’s Festival, an Oyster supper, and many other events. Most recently, a building fund drive gave St. Peter’s its latest addition, consecrated by Bishop William Black in 1980.
“We are fellow workers with God.” We trust that God will continue to give the growth, that God will continue to allow this parish to flourish. As we trust in God’s providence, it’s our turn to plant the seeds and water them. As we follow those who came before and look toward continuing the ministry here through another year, may God also help us to commit ourselves to continued personal formation, to showing our gratitude for God’s gifts, and to intentionally living out our ministries as baptized Christians.
How did all these faithful Christians come to commit themselves to a parish in this place? Many of you know the history of St. Peter’s well, having lived some of it yourselves. Some of you may be a little sketchier on that history. The Episcopal Church in Ohio dates from as early as 1804, when those who were given land grants in Ohio in exchange for service in the Revolutionary War, settled in Worthington and established St. John’s, in what was then a wilderness outpost. In 1817, the Diocese of Ohio was created, with Philander Chase, founder of Kenyon College and Bexley Hall seminary, as its first bishop. Growth in this part of the state led to the creation of a separate Diocese of Southern Ohio in 1875. St. Peter’s was part of that growth, having been established in 1841. A Vestry of twelve faithful men called the first rector, the Rev. James B. Goodwin. After meeting for worship in various places, the parish was finally able to erect this sanctuary, which was consecrated by Bishop Charles McIlvaine in April, 1859. The church that we see today, as our windows, plaques, and church records remind us, comes to us as a result of the many gifts of both money and time, and the commitment to the survival of this parish, of preceding generations. One hundred sixty-nine years later, we are now the stewards, both of this building and of this Christian community.
Those who committed their lives and their resources to this community took to heart Paul’s message to the Christian community in Corinth. You remember that the main concern that drove Paul to write to this community was the reports he had received of deep conflicts among them. He began his letter, as we heard a couple of weeks ago, by addressing head on his concern that a significant cause of the conflicts was factionalism, i.e., that people were proclaiming themselves followers of one human leader or another. In the portion of the letter we heard last week, Paul reminded the Corinthians that the Holy Spirit is the agent of the growth of the community. The Spirit’s goal for them was that they would grow up into Christ, into mature Christians ready to do and be Christ in the world. Now Paul has returned to his specific rejection of factionalism. He reminds the Corinthians that God works through all human actors. Whether it be Paul, or Apollos, or Peter, it is God working through human beings called to particular tasks. What is most important, all are part of God’s work together, all are fellow workers with God. No one can take special pride in the productivity of his or her acre in God’s field, since ultimately, all growth, all produce is a result of our cooperation with God’s grace.
Which brings us back to St. Peter’s. The time of our annual meeting is always a good time to take stock. We too are fellow workers with God. All of us who care about the continued life of this parish are in it together. All of us here, I hope, share two purposes: to continue our own formation as Christ-imbued people, to become more faithful disciples, and to see this parish community thrive and last for another 169 years in this place. If we share these purposes, then here is God calling us to do. I believe that God is calling us to continue the commitments made by those who came before us in this place. If we are to continue to grow up into Christ, if we are to continue to mature as Christians, then we need to commit ourselves to Christian education, not only for children, but for ourselves as well. Just as our bodies will starve without physical food, so too will our spirits starve without “soul food.” We have a discussion series on community ministry coming on Wednesday nights in Lent. Commit to participating in that series, regardless of whether you can come for Evening Prayer and potluck supper before the discussion sessions. Join us on Sunday mornings for a closer look at the Gospel of Matthew, which we are hearing all this church year. Or commit to reading something on your own that will stretch you and help you grow into Christ. If you need to, ask me for suggestions!
So our first commitment is to continued personal formation. Our second commitment is to support of this parish with our own resources, our own resources of treasure, time, and talent. Always, we give in gratitude for what God has given us. Always we recognize that whatever we give to God doesn’t begin to match the great gifts that God has given us. Always, we remember that “all things come of thee, O Lord, and of thine own have we given thee.” Historically, church people have returned to God a tenth of their resources, the tithe. Perhaps that’s where all the windows and other beautiful objects in this church came from. Many of us still do tithe. And those, who for good and valid reasons, cannot tithe, often honor God by at least intentionally committing whatever proportion of their resources they can afford. But notice that it’s not only some portion of our treasure that we are called to commit to God. God also calls us to return to God a portion of our time and talents. Allowing eight hours of sleep per night, all of us have 112 waking hours in a week. Can we commit 11 hours a week to good works? Could some of those 11 hours be used to enhance the life of this parish? And what about all those talents? What part of our talents have we committed to God?
So: first commitment to personal formation, second commitment to support of the church with our treasure, time, and talents. Third, God calls us to partner with God in creating a welcoming community of love in this place. I believe this means engaging in real ministry ourselves and inviting others to share ministry with us. I believe this also means committing ourselves to regular nourishment in the sacraments and inviting others to partake of God’s nourishment with us. We can, and do, put out tracts and pamphlets. We can, and do, send out flyers, place notices in print media, and send out an electronic newsletter. We can, and do, have a web site and a Facebook page. But what counts most in creating a vital and thriving community is personal encounter with others who are growing into mature Christians, personal encounter with those who are become more and more Christ-like.
No one person can do all of this, least of all your priest. We are all needed in this joint venture together. By virtue of our baptisms, we all have a ministry. Truth be told, as I look back on the history of St. Peter’s, I see active lay people who indeed worked hard to see this parish flourish. After the first twelve Vestry men called the first rector, others gave gifts and raised funds for the parish through operettas, suppers, a Pancake festival, a Dairymaid’s Festival, an Oyster supper, and many other events. Most recently, a building fund drive gave St. Peter’s its latest addition, consecrated by Bishop William Black in 1980.
“We are fellow workers with God.” We trust that God will continue to give the growth, that God will continue to allow this parish to flourish. As we trust in God’s providence, it’s our turn to plant the seeds and water them. As we follow those who came before and look toward continuing the ministry here through another year, may God also help us to commit ourselves to continued personal formation, to showing our gratitude for God’s gifts, and to intentionally living out our ministries as baptized Christians.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Let Your Light Shine
This evening will you wish you were in Arlington, Texas? Will you be glued to your TV set at 6:30? Do I need to tell anyone that that’s kickoff time for Super Bowl XLV? As the Green Bay Packers and the Pittsburgh Steelers face off against each other on the field, some of you might be more interested in the players than the plays. Did you know that many of the players on both sides are men of faith who are actively partnering with God to bring God’s kingdom a little closer? I’ll just hold up two of them. Wide receiver and Kalamazoo native Greg Jennings is worth millions as a star player for Green Bay. Through the Greg Jennings Foundation, a non-profit Christian organization dedicated to assisting children and families. Greg has been steadily and generously giving back to the community. Supported by donations, volunteers, fund-raising events, and Greg himself, the Foundation makes grants to organizations and people in need in Michigan and Wisconsin. Among other grants, last summer the Foundation supported a Habitat for Humanity house in Kalamazoo, and in November Greg personally helped distribute 500 Thanksgiving turkeys. That same month 2009 Steelers MVP James Harrison founded the James Harrison Family Foundation. James was inspired by both the generous support of his fans and his love of children, and he started this foundation so that he can make a difference in peoples' lives when they need it the most. Dedicated to fostering hope, the foundation provides aid especially to children with disabilities and their families in the greater Pittsburgh area. In mid-December the foundation invited 200 children and their families to enjoy brunch with Santa and take home new clothing and toys.
Most of the Packers and Steelers players have started such foundations. Many have been spurred to do so by their commitment to being Jesus’ disciples. I would guess that today’s Gospel passage has helped to inspire not only today’s players but also the many other athletes who have founded similar organizations. As you remember, Matthew was writing to a beleaguered community of new Christians, a community that included both Jews and Gentiles. With members of different ethnic traditions, this community, like the community in Corinth, and like many other Christian communities, was striving to live fully into the way inaugurated by Jesus. As we will see throughout our readings from the Gospel of Matthew this year, one of Matthew’s major concerns was to offer instruction to this community as to what Jesus’ disciples should be and do. The center of the story is made up of five great sermons of Jesus, all of which contain concrete instructions as to how a Christian community should form itself.
Here we begin to learn about community formation through Jesus’ instructions to his first disciples. You remember that Jesus has just called Peter, Andrew, James, and John away from their nets. Last week we heard the beginning of the first sermon, in which Jesus began by assuring these disciples that they were blessed by God when they depend on God’s grace to help them live in love and peace. Now Jesus begins to lay out the characteristics of a blessed community. Warning them that their righteousness needs to go way beyond the scrupulous law-keeping of the scribes and Pharisees, Jesus tells them that they need two things. They don’t need to be captivating preachers (thank heavens!), they don’t need to be canny administrators, and they don’t need to be spell-binding evangelists.
The disciples do need to be who they are, by God’s grace, already becoming: salt to the earth and light for the world, people whose connection with God could be seen in who they were and what they did. Because they were now Jesus’ disciples, they shared in Jesus’ life, and they could show this Jesus-life to the world. Not by engaging in propaganda, not by haranguing people on the roads, but by being fully alive in Christ, by being the kind of people who make other people see the possibility that God might be real after all and at work in them. By living the kind of life that shows forth God’s goodness to others. For Jesus’ disciples, this means more than the personal piety that the scribes and Pharisees modeled so well. Living a life infused with Jesus-ness means engaging in concrete acts of mercy, justice, peace, and liberation – for the people in their own homes, on their own doorsteps, across the street, and across the world. Those who partake of Jesus’ own life are enabled by him to do Jesus in the world, not to win God’s favor, not to buy their way into heaven, but so that others “may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.” So that others may be healed and restored, and so that ultimately all nations may be brought under God’s gracious reign.
Guess what? We are Jesus’ disciples too. We are also salt for the earth, we are also light for the world. Jesus’ challenge to his immediate disciples is addressed to us too. In The Holy Longing, his meditation on spiritual life in our time, Ronald Rolheiser reminds us that there are four “non-negotiable essentials” for a healthy spirituality: personal prayer and morality, mellowness of heart and spirit, communal worship, and pursuit of social justice. We’ve talked a lot about prayer, especially contemplative prayer, and some of us have experienced it here. And certainly we’re all trying to overcome our own personal brokenness and sinfulness. Mellowness of heart and spirit? We might say that that’s about acknowledging your dependence on God, being grateful for all of God’s blessings to you, and trusting the spirit to lead you. Communal worship brings us back together as the Body of Christ, enabling us to support each other as we enter into the sacred mystery of God’s presence among us. Pursuing social justice flows out of the first three practices. As we deepen our relationship with God through prayer, and as we are nourished by Word and Sacrament in worship, our ability to be and do Jesus in the world is strengthened.
Do you see pursuing social justice as essential to your spirituality? “Well, yes,” you might say, “but what can one person, or even one small parish actually do?” Just think of all the areas of our globe that need addressing: poverty, both right here in this county and in the rest of the world; sub-standard housing and homelessness; hunger; Third World debt; environmental justice; access to health care; human trafficking, sweatshop labor; fair trade purchasing; socially responsible investing. The list goes on and on. Do you feel stopped in your tracks, intimidated into total inertia by the enormity and complexity of all the areas of social injustice? Perhaps we can follow the advice of Mother Teresa: “If you can’t feed a hundred people, then just feed one.” Be and do Jesus for that one! Here at St. Peter’s, we understand that scale. Today, our youngsters are helping to complete our collection for the Souper Bowl of Caring. Food and dollars are still very much needed. We continue our Loaves and Fishes dinners, and our distribution of diapers with the Lutheran Social Services mobile food pantry. Where else might our ministries take us? Where else might we be and do Jesus in the world?
I want to challenge us. I know that pursuing social justice isn’t easy. In fact, sometimes it’s downright dangerous – as the history we remember in Black History month so poignantly reminds us. Nevertheless, I want to challenge us to be and do more than we think we can. I would like the children to think of something that only they can be and do between now and Easter. “This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine!” Can you children think of a way that your light can shine brighter between now and Easter? How about the young adult group that’s forming? Yes, it’s important that you all come together in fellowship and strengthen the ties among you. But is there a way that you can grow in your love of God and of those around you? Yes, all of you are busy with your various obligations. I was a young mother once too, believe it or not. So if you can’t feed a hundred people, can you feed one? Is there one thing you can do between now and Easter? How about the ECW? Is there one thing you can do between now and Easter? How about you men? What can you do? Is there something the whole congregation can do together? Can we put old conflicts behind us and do something, really do something, together? Engage in a letter-writing campaign for Bread for the World maybe? I challenge all of you to come up with some ideas and then to follow through with them. The rest of us pledge to give whatever help we can!
Jesus told us, “You are salt for the earth, you are light for the world.” Confident that God will enable us to continue growing in our ability to be and do Jesus in the world, we are bold to pray, “O God, with endless mercy you receive the prayers of all who call on you. By your Spirit show us the things we ought to do, and give us the grace and power to do them, through Jesus Christ our Savior and Lord.”
Most of the Packers and Steelers players have started such foundations. Many have been spurred to do so by their commitment to being Jesus’ disciples. I would guess that today’s Gospel passage has helped to inspire not only today’s players but also the many other athletes who have founded similar organizations. As you remember, Matthew was writing to a beleaguered community of new Christians, a community that included both Jews and Gentiles. With members of different ethnic traditions, this community, like the community in Corinth, and like many other Christian communities, was striving to live fully into the way inaugurated by Jesus. As we will see throughout our readings from the Gospel of Matthew this year, one of Matthew’s major concerns was to offer instruction to this community as to what Jesus’ disciples should be and do. The center of the story is made up of five great sermons of Jesus, all of which contain concrete instructions as to how a Christian community should form itself.
Here we begin to learn about community formation through Jesus’ instructions to his first disciples. You remember that Jesus has just called Peter, Andrew, James, and John away from their nets. Last week we heard the beginning of the first sermon, in which Jesus began by assuring these disciples that they were blessed by God when they depend on God’s grace to help them live in love and peace. Now Jesus begins to lay out the characteristics of a blessed community. Warning them that their righteousness needs to go way beyond the scrupulous law-keeping of the scribes and Pharisees, Jesus tells them that they need two things. They don’t need to be captivating preachers (thank heavens!), they don’t need to be canny administrators, and they don’t need to be spell-binding evangelists.
The disciples do need to be who they are, by God’s grace, already becoming: salt to the earth and light for the world, people whose connection with God could be seen in who they were and what they did. Because they were now Jesus’ disciples, they shared in Jesus’ life, and they could show this Jesus-life to the world. Not by engaging in propaganda, not by haranguing people on the roads, but by being fully alive in Christ, by being the kind of people who make other people see the possibility that God might be real after all and at work in them. By living the kind of life that shows forth God’s goodness to others. For Jesus’ disciples, this means more than the personal piety that the scribes and Pharisees modeled so well. Living a life infused with Jesus-ness means engaging in concrete acts of mercy, justice, peace, and liberation – for the people in their own homes, on their own doorsteps, across the street, and across the world. Those who partake of Jesus’ own life are enabled by him to do Jesus in the world, not to win God’s favor, not to buy their way into heaven, but so that others “may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.” So that others may be healed and restored, and so that ultimately all nations may be brought under God’s gracious reign.
Guess what? We are Jesus’ disciples too. We are also salt for the earth, we are also light for the world. Jesus’ challenge to his immediate disciples is addressed to us too. In The Holy Longing, his meditation on spiritual life in our time, Ronald Rolheiser reminds us that there are four “non-negotiable essentials” for a healthy spirituality: personal prayer and morality, mellowness of heart and spirit, communal worship, and pursuit of social justice. We’ve talked a lot about prayer, especially contemplative prayer, and some of us have experienced it here. And certainly we’re all trying to overcome our own personal brokenness and sinfulness. Mellowness of heart and spirit? We might say that that’s about acknowledging your dependence on God, being grateful for all of God’s blessings to you, and trusting the spirit to lead you. Communal worship brings us back together as the Body of Christ, enabling us to support each other as we enter into the sacred mystery of God’s presence among us. Pursuing social justice flows out of the first three practices. As we deepen our relationship with God through prayer, and as we are nourished by Word and Sacrament in worship, our ability to be and do Jesus in the world is strengthened.
Do you see pursuing social justice as essential to your spirituality? “Well, yes,” you might say, “but what can one person, or even one small parish actually do?” Just think of all the areas of our globe that need addressing: poverty, both right here in this county and in the rest of the world; sub-standard housing and homelessness; hunger; Third World debt; environmental justice; access to health care; human trafficking, sweatshop labor; fair trade purchasing; socially responsible investing. The list goes on and on. Do you feel stopped in your tracks, intimidated into total inertia by the enormity and complexity of all the areas of social injustice? Perhaps we can follow the advice of Mother Teresa: “If you can’t feed a hundred people, then just feed one.” Be and do Jesus for that one! Here at St. Peter’s, we understand that scale. Today, our youngsters are helping to complete our collection for the Souper Bowl of Caring. Food and dollars are still very much needed. We continue our Loaves and Fishes dinners, and our distribution of diapers with the Lutheran Social Services mobile food pantry. Where else might our ministries take us? Where else might we be and do Jesus in the world?
I want to challenge us. I know that pursuing social justice isn’t easy. In fact, sometimes it’s downright dangerous – as the history we remember in Black History month so poignantly reminds us. Nevertheless, I want to challenge us to be and do more than we think we can. I would like the children to think of something that only they can be and do between now and Easter. “This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine!” Can you children think of a way that your light can shine brighter between now and Easter? How about the young adult group that’s forming? Yes, it’s important that you all come together in fellowship and strengthen the ties among you. But is there a way that you can grow in your love of God and of those around you? Yes, all of you are busy with your various obligations. I was a young mother once too, believe it or not. So if you can’t feed a hundred people, can you feed one? Is there one thing you can do between now and Easter? How about the ECW? Is there one thing you can do between now and Easter? How about you men? What can you do? Is there something the whole congregation can do together? Can we put old conflicts behind us and do something, really do something, together? Engage in a letter-writing campaign for Bread for the World maybe? I challenge all of you to come up with some ideas and then to follow through with them. The rest of us pledge to give whatever help we can!
Jesus told us, “You are salt for the earth, you are light for the world.” Confident that God will enable us to continue growing in our ability to be and do Jesus in the world, we are bold to pray, “O God, with endless mercy you receive the prayers of all who call on you. By your Spirit show us the things we ought to do, and give us the grace and power to do them, through Jesus Christ our Savior and Lord.”
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)