Sunday, October 21, 2012
Jesus is on the Move
Sitting is hazardous to your health! Why did James and John want to sit with Jesus in his glory, one at his right hand and one at his left? Didn’t they hear what he’s been telling them? Didn’t they understand his mission at all? In the two verses immediately preceding the beginning of our lection, Jesus has given James, John, and the other disciples, for the third time, a clear statement of his fate. Mark tells us, “They were on the road, going up to Jerusalem, and Jesus was walking ahead of them; they were amazed, and those who followed were afraid. He took the twelve aside again and began to tell them what was to happen to him, saying, ‘See, we are going up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man will be handed over to the chief priests and the scribes, and they will condemn him to death; then they will hand him over to the Gentiles; they will mock him, and spit upon him, and flog him, and kill him; and after three days he will rise again.’ (Mark 10:32-34).” There they have it: the rest of Jesus’ story in a nutshell, and Jesus’ clearest explanation for his disciples of the kind of messiah he will be.
Do the disciples get it? Do they want to go up to Jerusalem with him? Even though James and John were to become revered apostles in Mark’s community, here it is clear that they still haven’t understood Jesus’ teaching. They still think that Jesus will establish a new political regime, in which he will reign like the other despots of the ancient world. Like little children sheepishly asking for a goody from Dad, they ask if they can sit, seemingly static and unmoving, and bask in his reflected glory. As if we didn’t need another, here is just one more illustration of the gap between what the disciples thought and what Jesus himself foretold. Like Peter before them, James and John cannot get their minds around what Jesus has told them, so they instead envision a static kingdom with themselves in places of honor. As if that weren’t bad enough, James’ and John’s insistence on sitting with Jesus when he becomes king creates dissension within the little band of followers. The other disciples also want their piece of the pie! They too want to sit with Jesus in glory.
Is that what we want? Do we too want to sit with Jesus, inertly basking in his glory? Jesus is on the move, and sitting is hazardous to both our physical and spiritual health. Certainly we have been bombarded by messages that sitting is hazardous to our physical health. Think about it: how much time do you spend sitting each day? Most of us spend a lot of time in our cars. Perhaps we work at a desk. What about the time you spend in front of your computer, or eating, or reading the newspaper, or paying bills, or watching TV? On the weekend, do you sit in a movie theater or in the bleachers at a sporting event? When you add it all up, middle class Americans spend an average of nine hours a day sitting! And that’s a problem. A recent study by the American Cancer Society found that sitting six or more hours a day increases your risk of early death from any cause by 18 percent for men and 37 percent for women. Someday your office chair or your easy chair just might come with a Surgeon General’s warning that says, “Caution: Sitting may be hazardous to your health.”
Sitting may also be hazardous to our spiritual health. Certainly, there is a place for silently sitting and listening patiently for God’s word. But think about it: is your prayer life static and inactive? Do you go through the same rote prayers day after day? Have your ideas about God, Jesus, Church, and faith stayed the same since the bishop laid hands on you in confirmation? Have you learned anything about the Bible since then? Or perhaps you only think about your spiritual health sitting in the pew? Perhaps our pews should come with a warning: “Caution sitting here may be hazardous to your spiritual health!”
Sitting is hazardous because Jesus is on the move! No sitting allowed for his disciples! Jesus has invited his friends to walk with him to Jerusalem. He has invited them to be partners with him in the events that will play out there. James and John, at least, glibly and naively assert their ability to share Jesus’ fate, and Jesus assures them that they will do just that. Just to make sure once more that they understand the demands of the new community he is forming, Jesus reminds them that they are not called to sit like despotic kings but rather to be up and moving as servant leaders. And he proclaims one more time that if they are truly his disciples they will eventually find themselves, like him, walking toward the cross.
Do we want to walk with Jesus? Movement is good for our health. Indeed, building any kind of extra physical activity into our day is beneficial. In fact, as you are able, stand up right now, breathe deeply, and stretch. Don’t you feel better already? Walking is especially good for your health. Physician and priest Bill Watson reminds us that, “…walking is a part of God’s design. It is a natural action, perhaps next to breathing, our most natural. Walking opens the world to us and is central to who we are.” Experts at the Mayo Clinic detail the benefits of walking. Walking lowers bad (LDL) cholesterol, raises good cholesterol (HDL), lowers blood pressure, reduces the risk of or helps manage type 2 diabetes, helps control weight, improves your mood, and helps you stay strong and fit.
But did you know that walking also has spiritual benefits? To convince clergy of the benefits of walking, CREDO, the clergy renewal program of the Episcopal Church has designated October as the month to “Walk and be Well.” For each day of the month, there is a brief meditation – ideally to be heard while walking – that connects our physical and spiritual well-being. Walking a labyrinth is another form of spiritual walking. Have your ever walked one? A labyrinth is not a maze. It is a circular arrangement of stones or marks that has only one path to the center and back out. Walking into and out from the center of the labyrinth enables one to experience spiritual centering, contemplation and prayer. It’s a wonderful practice that, if done slowly and contemplatively helps us quiet our minds and focus on a spiritual question or prayer. People in Gallipolis are fortunate: there’s a labyrinth in the healing garden at Holzer medical center. Try it sometime! Yet another form of spiritual walking is pilgrimage. Pilgrimages are, of course, ancient forms of devotion, and almost every faith community has some form of pilgrimage practice. Pilgrimages were especially popular in medieval Europe, but even today, nearly 200,000 people walk the Way of St. James to Santiago de Compostela in Spain.
Walking may also be a form of spiritual witness. We are familiar with the charity walks that raise visibility and funds for many good causes. But have you ever heard of the Peace Pilgrim? Starting on January 1, 1953, Mildred Lisette Norman, calling herself only "Peace Pilgrim," walked more than 25,000 miles on a personal pilgrimage for peace. She vowed to "remain a wanderer until mankind has learned the way of peace, walking until given shelter and fasting until given food." In the course of her 28 year pilgrimage she touched the hearts, minds, and lives of thousands of individuals all across North America. Her message was both simple and profound. It continues to inspire people all over the world: "This is the way of peace: overcome evil with good, and falsehood with truth, and hatred with love." Although she died in an automobile accident in 1981, her witness lives on in her book and through the voluntary organization of Friends of the Peace Pilgrim.
Perhaps you and I are not called to duplicate the walking of the Peace Pilgrim. But Jesus is on the move, and we are called to walk with him. We can commit ourselves to the appropriate habits of exercise that will keep our bodies strong and enable us, frail and mortal though we may be, to be his faithful followers and servants. We can commit ourselves to continuing to grow in our understanding of our call, through study of the Bible and other aspects of our faith. We can commit ourselves to serving those of his children who are sick, in need, in prison, hungry, and hurting. We can work for a more just and peaceful world. And we can ask God to strengthen our desire to grow spiritually through worship, contemplative prayer, study, walking prayer, pilgrimages, retreats, quiet days, and any other way that God may open to us.
Jesus is on the move, and I want to walk with him. O Master, let me walk with thee!
Sunday, October 14, 2012
What Must I Do?
“What must I do to inherit eternal life?” What must we do? Take out your bulletin. Take a few minutes and write down somewhere on the bulletin – perhaps on the cover -- three things you think you must do to “inherit eternal life,” to live in God’s realm. This is for yourself only, so you can be honest. [Give the congregation two or three minutes to write.] So what must we do to enter God’s realm? Do we have to follow every one of the Ten Commandments? Do we have to observe all 650+ prescriptions in the laws of Moses? Do we have to leave our families and our livelihoods to follow after an itinerant rabbi? Do we have to be crucified upside down like Peter? Must we be thrown to the wild beasts in Rome’s arena like Perpetua and her companions? Must we spend our lives as contemplative anchorites like Julian of Norwich? Will I be welcomed more warmly into God’s realm if I am a spell-binding preacher like “golden-mouthed” John Chrysostum or Phillips Brooks? Do I have to found settlement houses like Vida Dutton Scudder, or enter a convent or monastery? Must we all forsake the kingdom of thingdom, close all our accounts, sell our houses, and live as homeless beggars? Will any of these actions gain us entrance into God’s realm?
What must I do to inherit eternal life? We’re still in the gospel of Mark, and we’re still on the road to Jerusalem with Jesus and his friends. In preparation for his leaving them, Jesus has been instructing his closest friends in what discipleship involves. As we’ve been overhearing these conversations, we’ve learned, with the disciples, that we must truly understand what kind of messiah Jesus is. We must accept that he is a suffering messiah who will die a criminal’s death on a Roman cross. We’ve learned that those who wish to lead a community of Jesus’ followers must be servants of all. We’ve been reminded that we must respect the sacred commitments we’ve made to our life partners. We’ve learned that we must become spiritual children who acknowledge their vulnerability and their dependence on God alone.
Now, we come face to face with a shocking reality: in order to be able to accept God’s love, in order to truly live as spiritual children, we must relinquish our sense of self-control. We must let go of all that we place ahead of God, all that encourages us to trust our own possessions, powers, and abilities instead of God. How could this be? People of Jesus’ time, both Jews and Gentiles, believed that the rich especially enjoyed God’s favor. Wasn’t the rich man in today’s reading especially blessed by all his possessions? It’s painful to watch this scene play out. Can’t you see the look of shock and disbelief as this powerful man hears Jesus tell him to give up all his possessions, to let go of everything that had given his life meaning, to set out in a different direction? Can’t you see the tears running down his face, as he turns away from Jesus?
What must I do to inherit eternal life? Change is painful. Letting go is painful. Deciding to let go of our prized possessions, beliefs, attitudes, habits, or voting patterns, and trusting God to lead us into new life is difficult. Perhaps the man in this story “went away grieving,” because, as most people think, he knew he couldn’t do what Jesus had asked of him, and he wept because he was turning his back on an opportunity to change his life. Or perhaps he had decided to follow Jesus, but he knew how hard it would be to see the furniture crated up and carted off, the silver and china sold at auction, the silk and wool robes given to the relatives, the art work donated to the local synagogue. The tears would surely flow again and again.
Entering with Jesus into God’s realm is not easy. Letting go and following God’s leading is difficult. Taking that first step into new life, letting go of old ways of living, is often so painful that we put off doing what we know we must until our lives become unbearable. Attending that first AA meeting: can you imagine the guts it must take to stand up and say, “I’m Bill, and I’m an alcoholic.” Letting go of the past and taking those first steps toward wholeness is so difficult: making that first appointment with a marriage counselor, calling your physician about a mysterious symptom, returning to school, coming out to family and friends, sitting down with strange people, visiting a nursing home, hearing a call to ministry, or, as it was for this man, intentionally and honestly examining our use of our resources.
In our culture, letting go of some of our control over our resources can truly be painful and difficult. Money is the last taboo for us. It’s hard for us to admit that “where your treasure is, there your heart is also.” It’s hard to acknowledge that for most of us our bank statement reveals more about what we truly value than any other document. “Rich or poor, it’s nice to have money,” my mother used to say, but the hard spiritual truth is that our bank accounts will not save us. Make no mistake: we are not called to a life of destitution. Rather, Jesus is asking the rich man and us to see our money not as a measure of our self-worth, not as ticket to heaven, not as means of separating ourselves from others, but as a tool, as a means of benefiting others, especially the least, the lost, and the left behind of our society. What is your money doing? Who besides you is benefiting from it? Does your wealth help or harm the poor? Are you giving back some of your wealth to God?
What must I do to inherit eternal life? Ultimately entering God’s realm is about living a new and transformed life. Our lives are so busy and stressful, we might reasonably wonder, “Then who can be saved?” How can I possibly live up to what God expects of me? Where can I find the time, the nerve, and the resources to take those first necessary steps toward God? In our story, the rich man actually did something right: he came to Jesus! Coming to Jesus is actually the first step of a spiritual transformation that helps make all the other changes possible. When we spend time in Jesus’ presence, in worship, in reading the gospels for ourselves, or in private prayer, when we join ourselves to a community of people committed to Jesus, when we bear each other’s burdens, then we are giving God’s spirit time and opportunity to work in us and to gently lead us into the new ways of living that bring us farther into God’s realm. “With God, all things are possible,” Jesus reminds us. Buoyed by that hopeful word, we can trust that God is already at work within us, recreating and transforming us, giving us the courage to live into the changes that God has already begun in us.
What must I do to inherit eternal life? Ultimately, nothing. You can’t do anything to merit entry into the kingdom. We are do not merit the kingdom because we are just, honest, merciful, and generous. We are all only there by God’s free gift in Christ. If the rich man learned nothing else from his encounter with Jesus, he surely must have realized that he could not buy his way into heaven. He could only gratefully accept Jesus’ offer of a new and changed life. As Barbara Brown Taylor reminds us, “No matter what we do, none of us earns eternal life. We can keep the commandments until we are blue in the face; we can sign our paychecks over to Mother Teresa and rattle tin cups for our supper without ever earning a place at the banquet table of God. The kingdom of God is not for sale. It never has been; it never will be. The poor cannot buy it with their poverty and the rich cannot buy it with their riches. The kingdom of God is a consummate gift.”
What must I do to inherit eternal life? The way may be difficult, we may hesitate to take the needed first steps, we may fall off the road and have to wait for Jesus pick us up again, and we may even face the cross. But we can take heart that we have Jesus to accompany us on our journey. We can trust that, despite our own shortcomings and sinfulness, we have already been graced by God and showered with God’s love. Will we too go away grieving because we cannot let go of all that holds us back, cannot bear to change our lives? Or will we let Jesus’ love lead us into the only life worth living?
What must I do to inherit eternal life? We’re still in the gospel of Mark, and we’re still on the road to Jerusalem with Jesus and his friends. In preparation for his leaving them, Jesus has been instructing his closest friends in what discipleship involves. As we’ve been overhearing these conversations, we’ve learned, with the disciples, that we must truly understand what kind of messiah Jesus is. We must accept that he is a suffering messiah who will die a criminal’s death on a Roman cross. We’ve learned that those who wish to lead a community of Jesus’ followers must be servants of all. We’ve been reminded that we must respect the sacred commitments we’ve made to our life partners. We’ve learned that we must become spiritual children who acknowledge their vulnerability and their dependence on God alone.
Now, we come face to face with a shocking reality: in order to be able to accept God’s love, in order to truly live as spiritual children, we must relinquish our sense of self-control. We must let go of all that we place ahead of God, all that encourages us to trust our own possessions, powers, and abilities instead of God. How could this be? People of Jesus’ time, both Jews and Gentiles, believed that the rich especially enjoyed God’s favor. Wasn’t the rich man in today’s reading especially blessed by all his possessions? It’s painful to watch this scene play out. Can’t you see the look of shock and disbelief as this powerful man hears Jesus tell him to give up all his possessions, to let go of everything that had given his life meaning, to set out in a different direction? Can’t you see the tears running down his face, as he turns away from Jesus?
What must I do to inherit eternal life? Change is painful. Letting go is painful. Deciding to let go of our prized possessions, beliefs, attitudes, habits, or voting patterns, and trusting God to lead us into new life is difficult. Perhaps the man in this story “went away grieving,” because, as most people think, he knew he couldn’t do what Jesus had asked of him, and he wept because he was turning his back on an opportunity to change his life. Or perhaps he had decided to follow Jesus, but he knew how hard it would be to see the furniture crated up and carted off, the silver and china sold at auction, the silk and wool robes given to the relatives, the art work donated to the local synagogue. The tears would surely flow again and again.
Entering with Jesus into God’s realm is not easy. Letting go and following God’s leading is difficult. Taking that first step into new life, letting go of old ways of living, is often so painful that we put off doing what we know we must until our lives become unbearable. Attending that first AA meeting: can you imagine the guts it must take to stand up and say, “I’m Bill, and I’m an alcoholic.” Letting go of the past and taking those first steps toward wholeness is so difficult: making that first appointment with a marriage counselor, calling your physician about a mysterious symptom, returning to school, coming out to family and friends, sitting down with strange people, visiting a nursing home, hearing a call to ministry, or, as it was for this man, intentionally and honestly examining our use of our resources.
In our culture, letting go of some of our control over our resources can truly be painful and difficult. Money is the last taboo for us. It’s hard for us to admit that “where your treasure is, there your heart is also.” It’s hard to acknowledge that for most of us our bank statement reveals more about what we truly value than any other document. “Rich or poor, it’s nice to have money,” my mother used to say, but the hard spiritual truth is that our bank accounts will not save us. Make no mistake: we are not called to a life of destitution. Rather, Jesus is asking the rich man and us to see our money not as a measure of our self-worth, not as ticket to heaven, not as means of separating ourselves from others, but as a tool, as a means of benefiting others, especially the least, the lost, and the left behind of our society. What is your money doing? Who besides you is benefiting from it? Does your wealth help or harm the poor? Are you giving back some of your wealth to God?
What must I do to inherit eternal life? Ultimately entering God’s realm is about living a new and transformed life. Our lives are so busy and stressful, we might reasonably wonder, “Then who can be saved?” How can I possibly live up to what God expects of me? Where can I find the time, the nerve, and the resources to take those first necessary steps toward God? In our story, the rich man actually did something right: he came to Jesus! Coming to Jesus is actually the first step of a spiritual transformation that helps make all the other changes possible. When we spend time in Jesus’ presence, in worship, in reading the gospels for ourselves, or in private prayer, when we join ourselves to a community of people committed to Jesus, when we bear each other’s burdens, then we are giving God’s spirit time and opportunity to work in us and to gently lead us into the new ways of living that bring us farther into God’s realm. “With God, all things are possible,” Jesus reminds us. Buoyed by that hopeful word, we can trust that God is already at work within us, recreating and transforming us, giving us the courage to live into the changes that God has already begun in us.
What must I do to inherit eternal life? Ultimately, nothing. You can’t do anything to merit entry into the kingdom. We are do not merit the kingdom because we are just, honest, merciful, and generous. We are all only there by God’s free gift in Christ. If the rich man learned nothing else from his encounter with Jesus, he surely must have realized that he could not buy his way into heaven. He could only gratefully accept Jesus’ offer of a new and changed life. As Barbara Brown Taylor reminds us, “No matter what we do, none of us earns eternal life. We can keep the commandments until we are blue in the face; we can sign our paychecks over to Mother Teresa and rattle tin cups for our supper without ever earning a place at the banquet table of God. The kingdom of God is not for sale. It never has been; it never will be. The poor cannot buy it with their poverty and the rich cannot buy it with their riches. The kingdom of God is a consummate gift.”
What must I do to inherit eternal life? The way may be difficult, we may hesitate to take the needed first steps, we may fall off the road and have to wait for Jesus pick us up again, and we may even face the cross. But we can take heart that we have Jesus to accompany us on our journey. We can trust that, despite our own shortcomings and sinfulness, we have already been graced by God and showered with God’s love. Will we too go away grieving because we cannot let go of all that holds us back, cannot bear to change our lives? Or will we let Jesus’ love lead us into the only life worth living?
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
Jesus and Bill Doubleday on Marriage and Divorce
A Sermon Preached at St. Mark’s Episcopal Church, Mt. Kisco, NY
By the Rev. William A. Doubleday
October 7, 2012
In the name of the One God, Who Creates, Redeems, and Inspires Us.
Those Pharisees just won’t leave Jesus alone. They keep coming back with questions with which they hope to catch Jesus out, trip him up, prove him wrong, or get him in trouble with religious or secular authorities. They were never really interested in hearing the Good News of Repentance and Forgiveness – of Healing and New Life – of Death and Resurrection - which Jesus had come to proclaim. They were dedicated critics – taking copious notes - with an agenda for the failure of Jesus, not seekers and searchers looking for insight into what new words God might wish them to hear.
In today’s Gospel reading from the tenth Chapter of Mark’s Gospel, the latest Pharisaical question is: “Is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife?”
As he often does, Jesus attempts to turn the question back on his interrogators: “What did Moses command you?”
They said, “Moses allowed a man to write a certificate of dismissal and to divorce her.”
We might want to ask what the Pharisees are actually saying about the teachings of Moses on divorce. The minority of rabbis in Jesus’ day would have explained their answer to that question by saying, “If your wife commits adultery, you may hand her a note that says something like: ‘Because of your adulterous behavior, I divorce you. Good bye. Good riddance. Pack your bags. Be gone. You’re out of here.’” To modern ears, that perhaps sounds rather abrupt and rather lacking in any sort of due process or concern for individual women. No discussion of reconciliation. No possibility of appeal. No financial provisions.
But the view of the overwhelming majority of rabbis in Jesus’ day was far worse. They would have explained their answer with a simpler and more straightforward understanding of Moses’ teaching on divorce. It went something like this: “If for any reason, at any time, you wish to divorce your wife, hand her a note that says something like: ‘I divorce you. Good bye. Good riddance. Pack your bags. Be gone. You’re out of here.’” No cause need be given, whether it was the burnt toast, the untidy house, the inability to produce children or a male heir, a fading beauty, or the man’s desire to be rid of one wife so that he could more conveniently and with fewer encumbrances seek another. No financial provision was made for the divorced wife. Again no appeal was available. Usually she had to return to her family of origin in hopes of a charitable reception and a safe place to stay. I suppose one might call it a “no fault divorce plan for men.”
I must emphasize that there was no provision in Palestine in the days of Jesus, for women to divorce their husbands at all. Though there would be a time when women would be allowed to divorce their husbands on grounds of adultery, that time had not yet come. Indeed, in the days of Jesus, sexual mores were defined a lot differently than they have come to be in modern times. Polygamy was still an option for men. A married man only committed adultery if he engaged in a relationship with a woman who was in fact married to another man. The lesser sin of fornication, when a married man – or any man - had a non-marital sexual relationship with an unmarried woman was not likely to be punished unless some sort of scandal or serious accusation had ensued. Any sexual sin by a married woman was deemed heinous, and in some instances brought the death penalty either in the courts or in the court of public opinion. You may recall Jesus coming to the aid of the woman taken in adultery who was about to be stoned to death. He said: “Let the one who is without sin cast the first stone.”
Jesus responded to those curious Pharisees with a challenging teaching that would seem to call them, as well as all of us who would call ourselves his followers, to a higher standard. He says: “Because of your hardness of heart Moses wrote this commandment for you. But from the beginning of creation, ‘God made them male and female.’ For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh.’ So they are no longer two, but one flesh. Therefore what God has joined together, let no one separate.”
Jesus reaches back to the Book of Genesis for his rationale for this teaching, and he is clearly setting a new and higher standard for marriage and a clearer opposition to divorce than had pertained in his day. Many commentators have observed that where the traditional teaching about divorce had essentially cast women in the role of property which could be discarded at will, Jesus upheld and pointed towards the sacramental nature of marriage and the divinely blessed unity of husband and wife. Even if at times our marriages have not lived up to this standard, it is a standard which every married couple in the Christian tradition has been asked to live into. “Therefore what God has joined together, let no one separate.”
The evangelist Mark tells us that when they got inside the house, the disciples asked Jesus again about this matter. Clearly he had offered a teaching different from any they had ever heard before. Could they have heard him wrong?
But he says to them: “Whoever divorces his wife and marries another commits adultery against her; and if she divorces her husband and marries another, she commits adultery.” Here it would seem – and this is where much of the Church has been stuck down through the centuries – here it would seem that Jesus is not so much condemning divorce itself, but the phenomenon of remarriage after a divorce. There can be reasons for divorce that have nothing to do with adultery or sexual infidelity. But when remarriage or infidelity occurs, then the “they are no longer two, but one flesh” standard has been violated.
By now, some of you may be wondering why I am taking so much time to try to explore what Jesus most likely said about divorce and remarriage. Let me be quite clear, as a pastor I know that there are many times when divorce is in fact painful, grief-ridden, tragic, necessary, ultimately life-giving, and even life-saving for one or both spouses and whole families. As a pastor, I know that there are many times when remarriage is a matter of divine and human love, the restoration of hope, the experience of grace, and the occasion of blessed new beginnings for all concerned.
Though many are, as a pastor, I know that all divorces do not need to be marked by extreme rancor, acute hostility, permanent animosity, or perpetual contempt. As a pastor, I know that with time, many spouses, many children, many families, even many congregations come to recognize that as painful as divorces may be, as challenging and uncertain as remarriages may be, they in fact sometimes give us glimpses of Good Friday and hints of Easter Morning in our very own lives, families, and communities.
Though many Americans still seem to think of the Bible as a sexual rule book, except in the Holiness Code found in the Book of Leviticus and related texts, the Bible says relatively little about sex or even marriage – it is a book far more concerned with economic and social justice and care for the widows, orphans, and strangers in the land. Jesus says even less about human sexuality or marital relationships. John’s Gospel tells us that early in his ministry, Jesus and his disciples attended a marriage in Cana with his mother, Mary, and that in the face of a wine shortage, with his mother’s delighted encouragement, he turned water into wine and thus prolonged a very good party. John tells us nothing about Jesus’ thoughts on that occasion or about his thoughts about marriage more generally.
There are five or six places where in the Gospels – as is the case in today’s reading from Mark - where Jesus touches on issues of divorce and remarriage, and at least in his time and place he appears to have been opposed to both, though in at least one place in Matthew’s Gospel he does allow for divorce and remarriage, presumably for the so-called “innocent party” in a marriage that ended for reasons of adultery.
During much of the Christian Church’s history, divorce was generally taboo and remarriage was forbidden or frowned upon. Protestant churches, earlier than Catholic and Anglican Churches ones, came to an understanding that sometimes marriages fail, sometimes love dies, sometimes people grow dramatically apart, sometimes domestic violence destroys lives and families, and sometimes marriages for very good, if often tragic reasons, need to end. Very often it is far more an occasion of grief and sadness than it is somehow a matter of sin or a reason for judgment.
Today, Roman Catholics still contend with marriage tribunals that annul marriages, effectively saying marriages never existed, though inexplicably there are large numbers of children who were legitimately conceived. Many Roman Catholics who have left that Church for this or other reasons have been able to find sacramental homes in the Episcopal Church, for which I give particular thanks.
I am sorry to say that until the Canons of the Episcopal Church were drastically revised in 1973, the Episcopal Church canonically forbade clergy from officiating at most remarriages. Clergy who read the marriage canons severely, often even excommunicated parishioners who had gone elsewhere for remarriage and then had come right back to the Episcopal Church. Fortunately those days are now behind us – and by most of us completely forgotten – alas I did my curacy in a parish in Western Massachusetts where that was a still very painful issue in 1980.
Whatever Jesus may actually have intended for us in marital relationship today, the reality is that our life spans are immeasurably longer than was the case in New Testament. The social, economic, cultural, and religious settings of our lives, our relationships, and our families are separated by eons from the realities of Judaism three thousand years ago, or the realities of 1st century Palestine where Jesus lived and taught. What we do know is that marriage is a blessed sacrament. What we do know is that we are called to lives of faithfulness. What we do know is that God is a God of Love.
The Anglican theologian, Norman Pittenger, called God a Cosmic Lover – who created us to be lovers, who might both know and reciprocate God’s love, and who might love one another – even in life giving – life sustaining - life creating situations of marriage and family. The shape and parameters of those marriages and families have evolved and changed over the past two centuries and will undoubtedly continue to do so.
My prayer for us today is that God may yet – God may still – God may always bless us – in our lives – in our loves – in our friendships – in our relationships - in our marriages – in our families – in our brokenness – in our healing – in the new beginnings which God offers us – no matter who we are – no matter where we may have been – no matter what we may have done – no matter how we may have failed.
By the Rev. William A. Doubleday
October 7, 2012
In the name of the One God, Who Creates, Redeems, and Inspires Us.
Those Pharisees just won’t leave Jesus alone. They keep coming back with questions with which they hope to catch Jesus out, trip him up, prove him wrong, or get him in trouble with religious or secular authorities. They were never really interested in hearing the Good News of Repentance and Forgiveness – of Healing and New Life – of Death and Resurrection - which Jesus had come to proclaim. They were dedicated critics – taking copious notes - with an agenda for the failure of Jesus, not seekers and searchers looking for insight into what new words God might wish them to hear.
In today’s Gospel reading from the tenth Chapter of Mark’s Gospel, the latest Pharisaical question is: “Is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife?”
As he often does, Jesus attempts to turn the question back on his interrogators: “What did Moses command you?”
They said, “Moses allowed a man to write a certificate of dismissal and to divorce her.”
We might want to ask what the Pharisees are actually saying about the teachings of Moses on divorce. The minority of rabbis in Jesus’ day would have explained their answer to that question by saying, “If your wife commits adultery, you may hand her a note that says something like: ‘Because of your adulterous behavior, I divorce you. Good bye. Good riddance. Pack your bags. Be gone. You’re out of here.’” To modern ears, that perhaps sounds rather abrupt and rather lacking in any sort of due process or concern for individual women. No discussion of reconciliation. No possibility of appeal. No financial provisions.
But the view of the overwhelming majority of rabbis in Jesus’ day was far worse. They would have explained their answer with a simpler and more straightforward understanding of Moses’ teaching on divorce. It went something like this: “If for any reason, at any time, you wish to divorce your wife, hand her a note that says something like: ‘I divorce you. Good bye. Good riddance. Pack your bags. Be gone. You’re out of here.’” No cause need be given, whether it was the burnt toast, the untidy house, the inability to produce children or a male heir, a fading beauty, or the man’s desire to be rid of one wife so that he could more conveniently and with fewer encumbrances seek another. No financial provision was made for the divorced wife. Again no appeal was available. Usually she had to return to her family of origin in hopes of a charitable reception and a safe place to stay. I suppose one might call it a “no fault divorce plan for men.”
I must emphasize that there was no provision in Palestine in the days of Jesus, for women to divorce their husbands at all. Though there would be a time when women would be allowed to divorce their husbands on grounds of adultery, that time had not yet come. Indeed, in the days of Jesus, sexual mores were defined a lot differently than they have come to be in modern times. Polygamy was still an option for men. A married man only committed adultery if he engaged in a relationship with a woman who was in fact married to another man. The lesser sin of fornication, when a married man – or any man - had a non-marital sexual relationship with an unmarried woman was not likely to be punished unless some sort of scandal or serious accusation had ensued. Any sexual sin by a married woman was deemed heinous, and in some instances brought the death penalty either in the courts or in the court of public opinion. You may recall Jesus coming to the aid of the woman taken in adultery who was about to be stoned to death. He said: “Let the one who is without sin cast the first stone.”
Jesus responded to those curious Pharisees with a challenging teaching that would seem to call them, as well as all of us who would call ourselves his followers, to a higher standard. He says: “Because of your hardness of heart Moses wrote this commandment for you. But from the beginning of creation, ‘God made them male and female.’ For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh.’ So they are no longer two, but one flesh. Therefore what God has joined together, let no one separate.”
Jesus reaches back to the Book of Genesis for his rationale for this teaching, and he is clearly setting a new and higher standard for marriage and a clearer opposition to divorce than had pertained in his day. Many commentators have observed that where the traditional teaching about divorce had essentially cast women in the role of property which could be discarded at will, Jesus upheld and pointed towards the sacramental nature of marriage and the divinely blessed unity of husband and wife. Even if at times our marriages have not lived up to this standard, it is a standard which every married couple in the Christian tradition has been asked to live into. “Therefore what God has joined together, let no one separate.”
The evangelist Mark tells us that when they got inside the house, the disciples asked Jesus again about this matter. Clearly he had offered a teaching different from any they had ever heard before. Could they have heard him wrong?
But he says to them: “Whoever divorces his wife and marries another commits adultery against her; and if she divorces her husband and marries another, she commits adultery.” Here it would seem – and this is where much of the Church has been stuck down through the centuries – here it would seem that Jesus is not so much condemning divorce itself, but the phenomenon of remarriage after a divorce. There can be reasons for divorce that have nothing to do with adultery or sexual infidelity. But when remarriage or infidelity occurs, then the “they are no longer two, but one flesh” standard has been violated.
By now, some of you may be wondering why I am taking so much time to try to explore what Jesus most likely said about divorce and remarriage. Let me be quite clear, as a pastor I know that there are many times when divorce is in fact painful, grief-ridden, tragic, necessary, ultimately life-giving, and even life-saving for one or both spouses and whole families. As a pastor, I know that there are many times when remarriage is a matter of divine and human love, the restoration of hope, the experience of grace, and the occasion of blessed new beginnings for all concerned.
Though many are, as a pastor, I know that all divorces do not need to be marked by extreme rancor, acute hostility, permanent animosity, or perpetual contempt. As a pastor, I know that with time, many spouses, many children, many families, even many congregations come to recognize that as painful as divorces may be, as challenging and uncertain as remarriages may be, they in fact sometimes give us glimpses of Good Friday and hints of Easter Morning in our very own lives, families, and communities.
Though many Americans still seem to think of the Bible as a sexual rule book, except in the Holiness Code found in the Book of Leviticus and related texts, the Bible says relatively little about sex or even marriage – it is a book far more concerned with economic and social justice and care for the widows, orphans, and strangers in the land. Jesus says even less about human sexuality or marital relationships. John’s Gospel tells us that early in his ministry, Jesus and his disciples attended a marriage in Cana with his mother, Mary, and that in the face of a wine shortage, with his mother’s delighted encouragement, he turned water into wine and thus prolonged a very good party. John tells us nothing about Jesus’ thoughts on that occasion or about his thoughts about marriage more generally.
There are five or six places where in the Gospels – as is the case in today’s reading from Mark - where Jesus touches on issues of divorce and remarriage, and at least in his time and place he appears to have been opposed to both, though in at least one place in Matthew’s Gospel he does allow for divorce and remarriage, presumably for the so-called “innocent party” in a marriage that ended for reasons of adultery.
During much of the Christian Church’s history, divorce was generally taboo and remarriage was forbidden or frowned upon. Protestant churches, earlier than Catholic and Anglican Churches ones, came to an understanding that sometimes marriages fail, sometimes love dies, sometimes people grow dramatically apart, sometimes domestic violence destroys lives and families, and sometimes marriages for very good, if often tragic reasons, need to end. Very often it is far more an occasion of grief and sadness than it is somehow a matter of sin or a reason for judgment.
Today, Roman Catholics still contend with marriage tribunals that annul marriages, effectively saying marriages never existed, though inexplicably there are large numbers of children who were legitimately conceived. Many Roman Catholics who have left that Church for this or other reasons have been able to find sacramental homes in the Episcopal Church, for which I give particular thanks.
I am sorry to say that until the Canons of the Episcopal Church were drastically revised in 1973, the Episcopal Church canonically forbade clergy from officiating at most remarriages. Clergy who read the marriage canons severely, often even excommunicated parishioners who had gone elsewhere for remarriage and then had come right back to the Episcopal Church. Fortunately those days are now behind us – and by most of us completely forgotten – alas I did my curacy in a parish in Western Massachusetts where that was a still very painful issue in 1980.
Whatever Jesus may actually have intended for us in marital relationship today, the reality is that our life spans are immeasurably longer than was the case in New Testament. The social, economic, cultural, and religious settings of our lives, our relationships, and our families are separated by eons from the realities of Judaism three thousand years ago, or the realities of 1st century Palestine where Jesus lived and taught. What we do know is that marriage is a blessed sacrament. What we do know is that we are called to lives of faithfulness. What we do know is that God is a God of Love.
The Anglican theologian, Norman Pittenger, called God a Cosmic Lover – who created us to be lovers, who might both know and reciprocate God’s love, and who might love one another – even in life giving – life sustaining - life creating situations of marriage and family. The shape and parameters of those marriages and families have evolved and changed over the past two centuries and will undoubtedly continue to do so.
My prayer for us today is that God may yet – God may still – God may always bless us – in our lives – in our loves – in our friendships – in our relationships - in our marriages – in our families – in our brokenness – in our healing – in the new beginnings which God offers us – no matter who we are – no matter where we may have been – no matter what we may have done – no matter how we may have failed.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Spiritual Cleaning
My husband and I have been having our house painted. During the years we’ve been in this house, we’ve attended to numerous infrastructure needs: new roof, rebuilt chimney, mesh netting for the gutters, new water heater, but we haven’t done much with the interior. We did paint the bathrooms, the kitchen, and my study ourselves – in fact I was up there with the roller. However, now finally, for the rest of the main floor, since part of the job included a stairwell, we called in the professionals. The next step will be to put down fresh carpet in the living room and dining room, and possibly in the master bedroom and TV room. The living room, dining room, and master bedroom will also finally get fresh drapes – I have hated the drapes in the master bedroom the entire fifteen years we have been in this house. We will find some fresh artwork and rearrange some of the pieces we still really like.
In preparation for the painters, we had to rearrange the furniture and clean out a lot of places that we hadn’t looked at for a while. Jack and I each had a packrat parent, his father and my mother, and we’ve both tried hard, or so we thought, to not be packrats ourselves. Even so, we were surprised at all the stuff that accumulates in a house! Needless to say, some of that stuff is heading for the rummage sale pile, the recycling bin, and the trash can. Our goal in all this is to have a cleaner, brighter house that will be a truly welcoming space, for ourselves, that we might feel refreshed when we come home, and, what is more important, for our guests, that they might feel welcome and comfortable in our home.
Working on our house, seeing the fresher walls and the windows without the formerly ugly drapes, I couldn’t help thinking that perhaps we are something like my house. We’re not about to fall apart, the structure is basically sound, but we could do with some spiritual cleaning and refurbishing. In fact, today’s Gospel lesson invites us to re-examine ourselves and our surroundings, to see what things we need to throw out, and what needs to be refurbished and refreshed. We are now in the second half of Mark’s gospel. Jesus and crew are on the way to Jerusalem and the events that will happen there. In preparation for his eventually taking leave of his disciples, Jesus has been teaching them what they will need to know to carry on his work. Early on, he chose the twelve as the inner circle and sent them out on a preaching mission. Then when Peter declared that Jesus was the messiah, Jesus made the first of his predictions of his passion, in effect cluing Peter in to what kind of messiah he would be. He made a second prediction of his passion, but the disciples still didn’t get it. They still thought that Jesus was establishing a new political regime, in which one of them would be top dog. We heard Jesus’ response to that last week: as leaders they must be servants of all, and they are to serve the weakest, most vulnerable members of society.
In today’s reading, Jesus offers another lesson in how to create a true servant community. If the disciples are to truly minister to those on the margins, they must first clean up their own act. They must remove all those elements in their community that scandalize others. Although our translation talks about “stumbling,” “scandalize” really is the correct translation of the Greek. If the disciples truly want to minister to those to whom Jesus has ministered, if they truly want to welcome all, they must remove all those elements – or perhaps those people – that create barriers for others. And don’t be taken in here by Jesus’ metaphorical language. Throughout the gospels, Jesus often uses exaggerated language and imagery to drive home his point. We must not take this language literally: rest assured Jesus is not advising the disciples to jump into the sea with millstones around their necks – which would be impossible anyway – or to cut off their hands or feet, or tear out their eyes. He is not suggesting that they will end up on Jerusalem’s garbage heap, which is what the Greek word here implies. What Jesus is suggesting is that the disciples must seriously examine themselves and their behavior to ensure that they are not putting up obstacles for themselves or for others, and to ensure that their behavior does not lead them toward eternal separation from God.
Fast forward to Gallipolis in 2012. Does any of this make sense for us? In what ways might we be called to self-examination, to cleaning up our spiritual act? Let’s look first at ourselves as individuals. What in our own personal lives do we need to throw out? What aspects of our lives need to be refurbished, so that we may be better disciples of Jesus? For some of us, the answer to that question might be attending to our physical spaces – just as Jack and I doing with 1 Kent Drive. For example, do you need to create a place where you can read, study, or pray without constant distraction? Do you have a place where you can keep your Bible, a candle, or a spiritual journal close to hand? Is there some place you can sit in silence without electronic devices intruding? For others of us, the answer might be behaviors that get in the way of our spiritual life. What daily habits make it difficult for us to find even five minutes to converse with God, or even say a prayer or two? For yet others, the answer might lie in old beliefs that we need to shake off. For example, do you still believe in an angry, wrathful God, who needs to be placated by your good works? Do you believe that only formal prayer in elevated language is appropriate for conversing with God? How many of you know the Radio Free Babylon Coffee with Jesus cartoon strip? Many of my Facebook friends share it. In Thursday’s strip, Ann says to Jesus, “Thou knowest, O Lord, that thy servant doth strive to do thy will, to be pleasing in thine eyes.” Jesus replies, “Ann, knock it off.” “What dost thou desire that thy servant ‘knock off,’ O Lord?” And Jesus replies, “Talking to me in a voice other than ‘thine own,’ Ann.
When we look at ourselves as a parish, we’ve certainly been hard at work attending to our physical space – and we’ve done a lot of throwing out, recycling, cleaning, painting, and refurbishing. Good for us! Our spaces definitely are more welcoming and inviting. We might still ask ourselves whether our physical spaces are accessible to all. If you were in a wheelchair would you want to come into our sanctuary? You’d be consigned to the very first row. We have large print copies of the Scripture readings, and of the Eucharistic liturgy, but have we considered those with hearing loss? What about our behaviors? Are we truly welcoming? Or just to the people that look and smell like us? What about our conduct of worship? Are we stuck in old ways of doing things? Could we worship in other places? At least one parish in this diocese conducts “street church” in a vacant lot every Sunday. What other places might we consider?
Do we have attitudes that need to be changed? Do you believe that the clergy have to be in the center of everything in order for St. Peter’s to flourish? It has recently become clearer to me that the goal of the Common Ministry program is to equip lay people to truly exercise leadership in their parishes. Thanks be to God, we are finally coming full circle with what the ancient church knew, that committed lay people are what makes a Christian community flourish. Do you believe that our parish will flourish even if you don’t commit some of your treasure, your time, or your talents? Do you believe that all truth resides in the Episcopal Church? This church has been my spiritual home for over forty years, and I love it with my whole heart. I love our liturgy, and I believe that the Book of Common Prayer is a true treasure trove. Even so, I do not believe that the Episcopal Church or any denomination has a corner on the truth. Perhaps God isn’t as concerned about our denominations, our human creations, as we are. Do you believe that we can’t partner with other Christians or other faith communities in ministry to others? To be sure, we are partnering with other churches in our Loaves and Fishes dinner – and thanks be to God for that. Where else could we increase our effectiveness in ministry? The bottom line: what else do we need to cut off, throw out, or refurbish in order to be more effective disciples of Jesus?
Right now my house is in chaos. The furniture out of place, the newspapers on the windows in place of the old drapes, and the preparation for new carpeting is all very destabilizing. I’m glad I can retreat to my study! But the goal of it all is worth the hassle: to create a more welcoming environment, where I will feel happy to invite guests, and guests will enjoy coming. As disciples of Jesus, as both individuals and as a parish, we are called to a life of holiness. We are called to let go of those things that scandalize others and impede our mission. At times we may feel destabilized, but with God’s help, we will be able to more truly welcome those whom God is inviting into fellowship with Jesus.
In preparation for the painters, we had to rearrange the furniture and clean out a lot of places that we hadn’t looked at for a while. Jack and I each had a packrat parent, his father and my mother, and we’ve both tried hard, or so we thought, to not be packrats ourselves. Even so, we were surprised at all the stuff that accumulates in a house! Needless to say, some of that stuff is heading for the rummage sale pile, the recycling bin, and the trash can. Our goal in all this is to have a cleaner, brighter house that will be a truly welcoming space, for ourselves, that we might feel refreshed when we come home, and, what is more important, for our guests, that they might feel welcome and comfortable in our home.
Working on our house, seeing the fresher walls and the windows without the formerly ugly drapes, I couldn’t help thinking that perhaps we are something like my house. We’re not about to fall apart, the structure is basically sound, but we could do with some spiritual cleaning and refurbishing. In fact, today’s Gospel lesson invites us to re-examine ourselves and our surroundings, to see what things we need to throw out, and what needs to be refurbished and refreshed. We are now in the second half of Mark’s gospel. Jesus and crew are on the way to Jerusalem and the events that will happen there. In preparation for his eventually taking leave of his disciples, Jesus has been teaching them what they will need to know to carry on his work. Early on, he chose the twelve as the inner circle and sent them out on a preaching mission. Then when Peter declared that Jesus was the messiah, Jesus made the first of his predictions of his passion, in effect cluing Peter in to what kind of messiah he would be. He made a second prediction of his passion, but the disciples still didn’t get it. They still thought that Jesus was establishing a new political regime, in which one of them would be top dog. We heard Jesus’ response to that last week: as leaders they must be servants of all, and they are to serve the weakest, most vulnerable members of society.
In today’s reading, Jesus offers another lesson in how to create a true servant community. If the disciples are to truly minister to those on the margins, they must first clean up their own act. They must remove all those elements in their community that scandalize others. Although our translation talks about “stumbling,” “scandalize” really is the correct translation of the Greek. If the disciples truly want to minister to those to whom Jesus has ministered, if they truly want to welcome all, they must remove all those elements – or perhaps those people – that create barriers for others. And don’t be taken in here by Jesus’ metaphorical language. Throughout the gospels, Jesus often uses exaggerated language and imagery to drive home his point. We must not take this language literally: rest assured Jesus is not advising the disciples to jump into the sea with millstones around their necks – which would be impossible anyway – or to cut off their hands or feet, or tear out their eyes. He is not suggesting that they will end up on Jerusalem’s garbage heap, which is what the Greek word here implies. What Jesus is suggesting is that the disciples must seriously examine themselves and their behavior to ensure that they are not putting up obstacles for themselves or for others, and to ensure that their behavior does not lead them toward eternal separation from God.
Fast forward to Gallipolis in 2012. Does any of this make sense for us? In what ways might we be called to self-examination, to cleaning up our spiritual act? Let’s look first at ourselves as individuals. What in our own personal lives do we need to throw out? What aspects of our lives need to be refurbished, so that we may be better disciples of Jesus? For some of us, the answer to that question might be attending to our physical spaces – just as Jack and I doing with 1 Kent Drive. For example, do you need to create a place where you can read, study, or pray without constant distraction? Do you have a place where you can keep your Bible, a candle, or a spiritual journal close to hand? Is there some place you can sit in silence without electronic devices intruding? For others of us, the answer might be behaviors that get in the way of our spiritual life. What daily habits make it difficult for us to find even five minutes to converse with God, or even say a prayer or two? For yet others, the answer might lie in old beliefs that we need to shake off. For example, do you still believe in an angry, wrathful God, who needs to be placated by your good works? Do you believe that only formal prayer in elevated language is appropriate for conversing with God? How many of you know the Radio Free Babylon Coffee with Jesus cartoon strip? Many of my Facebook friends share it. In Thursday’s strip, Ann says to Jesus, “Thou knowest, O Lord, that thy servant doth strive to do thy will, to be pleasing in thine eyes.” Jesus replies, “Ann, knock it off.” “What dost thou desire that thy servant ‘knock off,’ O Lord?” And Jesus replies, “Talking to me in a voice other than ‘thine own,’ Ann.
When we look at ourselves as a parish, we’ve certainly been hard at work attending to our physical space – and we’ve done a lot of throwing out, recycling, cleaning, painting, and refurbishing. Good for us! Our spaces definitely are more welcoming and inviting. We might still ask ourselves whether our physical spaces are accessible to all. If you were in a wheelchair would you want to come into our sanctuary? You’d be consigned to the very first row. We have large print copies of the Scripture readings, and of the Eucharistic liturgy, but have we considered those with hearing loss? What about our behaviors? Are we truly welcoming? Or just to the people that look and smell like us? What about our conduct of worship? Are we stuck in old ways of doing things? Could we worship in other places? At least one parish in this diocese conducts “street church” in a vacant lot every Sunday. What other places might we consider?
Do we have attitudes that need to be changed? Do you believe that the clergy have to be in the center of everything in order for St. Peter’s to flourish? It has recently become clearer to me that the goal of the Common Ministry program is to equip lay people to truly exercise leadership in their parishes. Thanks be to God, we are finally coming full circle with what the ancient church knew, that committed lay people are what makes a Christian community flourish. Do you believe that our parish will flourish even if you don’t commit some of your treasure, your time, or your talents? Do you believe that all truth resides in the Episcopal Church? This church has been my spiritual home for over forty years, and I love it with my whole heart. I love our liturgy, and I believe that the Book of Common Prayer is a true treasure trove. Even so, I do not believe that the Episcopal Church or any denomination has a corner on the truth. Perhaps God isn’t as concerned about our denominations, our human creations, as we are. Do you believe that we can’t partner with other Christians or other faith communities in ministry to others? To be sure, we are partnering with other churches in our Loaves and Fishes dinner – and thanks be to God for that. Where else could we increase our effectiveness in ministry? The bottom line: what else do we need to cut off, throw out, or refurbish in order to be more effective disciples of Jesus?
Right now my house is in chaos. The furniture out of place, the newspapers on the windows in place of the old drapes, and the preparation for new carpeting is all very destabilizing. I’m glad I can retreat to my study! But the goal of it all is worth the hassle: to create a more welcoming environment, where I will feel happy to invite guests, and guests will enjoy coming. As disciples of Jesus, as both individuals and as a parish, we are called to a life of holiness. We are called to let go of those things that scandalize others and impede our mission. At times we may feel destabilized, but with God’s help, we will be able to more truly welcome those whom God is inviting into fellowship with Jesus.
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Whoever Welcomes One Such Child
“Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me ….”
“Hey, Maryam, Jesus wants your little Ya’acov for a minute. Bring him in here, wouldya?” What do you suppose that mother was thinking as she picked up her little son and walked into the room where Jesus and his friends were sitting? Why would the rabbi want her son in with them? They weren’t going to do anything strange to him, were they? Of course the young mother didn’t know how clueless the rabbi’s twelve followers were about what Jesus was trying to teach them. She didn’t know how reluctant and afraid they were to ask him what he meant when he said all that stuff about dying on a cross and rising again. She didn’t know that they still thought he was going to throw out the Romans and establish a new political order. She didn’t know that some of them – John maybe, who might have thought he played second fiddle to Peter, or Judas perhaps, who was starting to doubt that Jesus would do anything worthwhile – had been quarreling about who would be top dog in the new order. She just thought they were hangers on of the miracle-working rabbi, following him around as if they had nothing better to do. Reluctantly, she handed over her child.
Perhaps Maryam shouldn’t have been too hard on the Twelve. We wouldn’t have done much better, because Jesus was preaching and practicing a radically world-changing message. Jesus was “turning the world upside down.”1 Jesus taught his disciples that the religious leaders, whom everyone was supposed to admire and follow, had actually forsaken the Law of Moses in favor of myriad, complicated human traditions. Jesus taught his disciples that peoples’ needs supersede even the demands of the Law, and that it is OK, for example, to heal even on the Sabbath. Jesus taught them to love their enemies and to pray for those who persecute them. Jesus taught them that God loves and cares for all people – Gentiles, women, the disabled, the poor, the hungry, those in prison – all people. Jesus taught them that if they truly wanted to see God they must look among those on the margins of society: the homeless, the destitute, prostitutes, and even the hated tax collectors. Jesus taught them that those who wanted to be his disciples were expected to lead by serving everyone. Pointing to Maryam’s child, Jesus taught them that he himself could be seen in the most insignificant, vulnerable, defenseless members of society. And in all his teaching, whether they understood it or not, Jesus gave them fair warning that by serving as he had served they risked losing everything dear to them, including their own lives.
The Twelve may have had trouble understanding Jesus’ teachings, at least until after the resurrection, but down through the centuries a lot of his followers did understand what he was getting at. Many of them tried hard, risking – and even losing – their lives to welcome in Jesus’ name those whom polite society disdained. St. Brigid, St. Francis, St. Catherine of Siena, Bishop John Coleridge Patteson, who was martyred in Melanesia 1871, Constance and her companions, who died nursing Yellow Fever victims in Memphis in 1878, all of them understood Jesus’ teaching.
One who deeply understood Jesus’ command to welcome children in his name was Prudence Crandall.2 Have you ever heard of her? She is now on our church calendar. She was born into a Quaker family in Rhode Island in 1803 and was educated at the New England Friends School. Her own access to education left her passionate about teaching. She opened a girls’ school in Canterbury, Connecticut in 1831. Initially all her students were white. However, in 1833 Crandall defied convention and admitted Sarah Harris, an African American student who herself wanted to become a teacher. When outraged white parents demanded that Harris be expelled, Crandall started a new school, for African American girls. Demands that she close the school and threats to destroy it soon followed, but Crandall kept her word to her students to continue teaching them. When the school began to attract pupils from other states, the Connecticut legislature passed the so-called “Black Law,” making it a crime to teach out of state African American children. Under the law, Crandall was arrested, jailed, and convicted. The good citizens of Canterbury were outraged when her case was finally dismissed. On September 9, 1834 an angry mob smashed the windows of her school and set it on fire. For the safety of her students, her family, and herself, Crandall closed her school the next day. Having just married in August, Crandall then moved with her husband to Massachusetts. Following her husband’s death, Crandall moved to Elk Falls, Kansas, where she continued to work with children of all communities. A state historical marker in Elk Falls recognizes her work.
Many in our own time have also understood Jesus’ command to welcome in his name children, and all those disdained by polite society. I think of the Saint Joseph’s Family in Haiti, which runs an orphanage for formerly street boys in Port au Prince, another orphanage and day school for poor neighborhood children in Jacmel, and an orphanage for disabled children in the hills above Port au Prince. I think of Haiti Partners, which runs schools and trains teachers. I think of Episcopal Relief and Development, which has partnered with other agencies to end preventable deaths of children worldwide. I think of L’Arche, an international network of more than 150 communities dedicated to serving those with developmental disabilities. I think of the intentional community, the Rutba House in Durham, North Carolina. They serve a diverse group of young people in their own neighborhood, in a program that keeps children in school through mentoring and tutoring. I think of those who work with U.S.-born children of illegal immigrants, children who are American citizens, yet who face possible deportation with their parents. And I think of the collective efforts of this parish to be the Body of Christ in the world through providing for children’s physical needs in our diaper program and through welcoming children and their families to our Loaves and Fishes Dinners.
“Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me ….” Despite what we already do, I still hear a challenge in Jesus’ command. Do we understand that in following Jesus we leave ourselves open to the possibility that Jesus might want to change our expectations? Is there another way to welcome children and those with them on the margins that we have yet to see? Are we doing all that we can to effectively minister to children? Let’s start with our own children. Are we doing all we can to nurture them in the Christian faith? What else might we doing? Even now, work is going forward on cleaning out what once was a space for youth. Surely, creating an inviting space where our older children can gather is important to their formation. I’d like us to develop ways for our children to enjoy being together for activities other than worship, to work beside caring, thoughtful adults, to enjoy themselves as they are formed more closely to Jesus. We might also ask ourselves, what happens when our children leave this place? Is their formation as Jesus’ disciples happening anywhere else? What are they learning at home?
We might go on to ask ourselves, what are we doing for other people’s children? Do we need to consider ways to mentor, tutor, and perhaps even feed local children? At one point, we talked about partnering with a local school. Is that idea dead? What other needs do local children have? And if we ask ourselves why we might do any of these things, rest assured it is not so that we can play Lady Bountiful and feel good about ourselves. We undertake any of these ministries, because we see the face of Christ, in the faces of those to whom we minister. We undertake these ministries, because we have pledged ourselves to be the Body of Christ in the world, and we try as best we can to do what he did in the flesh, including welcoming children of all communities, and all those on the margins of society.
Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me ….”
“C’mon in, Maryam. Jesus is winding up. He’s just about done with talking about your son.” Maryam tentatively stood in the doorway of the front room. She saw the rabbi’s friends seated at his feet. She saw her son Ya’acov nestled in Jesus’ arms and Jesus looking down at him lovingly. Then Jesus gently lifted the boy up and placed him back in her arms. He looked at her and smiled. She saw the love in his eyes. And she knew, that from that moment on, her life would never be the same.
1. Albert Nolan, Jesus Today (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 2008), 50.
2. Holy Women, Holy Men (New York: Church Publishing, 2010), 558
“Hey, Maryam, Jesus wants your little Ya’acov for a minute. Bring him in here, wouldya?” What do you suppose that mother was thinking as she picked up her little son and walked into the room where Jesus and his friends were sitting? Why would the rabbi want her son in with them? They weren’t going to do anything strange to him, were they? Of course the young mother didn’t know how clueless the rabbi’s twelve followers were about what Jesus was trying to teach them. She didn’t know how reluctant and afraid they were to ask him what he meant when he said all that stuff about dying on a cross and rising again. She didn’t know that they still thought he was going to throw out the Romans and establish a new political order. She didn’t know that some of them – John maybe, who might have thought he played second fiddle to Peter, or Judas perhaps, who was starting to doubt that Jesus would do anything worthwhile – had been quarreling about who would be top dog in the new order. She just thought they were hangers on of the miracle-working rabbi, following him around as if they had nothing better to do. Reluctantly, she handed over her child.
Perhaps Maryam shouldn’t have been too hard on the Twelve. We wouldn’t have done much better, because Jesus was preaching and practicing a radically world-changing message. Jesus was “turning the world upside down.”1 Jesus taught his disciples that the religious leaders, whom everyone was supposed to admire and follow, had actually forsaken the Law of Moses in favor of myriad, complicated human traditions. Jesus taught his disciples that peoples’ needs supersede even the demands of the Law, and that it is OK, for example, to heal even on the Sabbath. Jesus taught them to love their enemies and to pray for those who persecute them. Jesus taught them that God loves and cares for all people – Gentiles, women, the disabled, the poor, the hungry, those in prison – all people. Jesus taught them that if they truly wanted to see God they must look among those on the margins of society: the homeless, the destitute, prostitutes, and even the hated tax collectors. Jesus taught them that those who wanted to be his disciples were expected to lead by serving everyone. Pointing to Maryam’s child, Jesus taught them that he himself could be seen in the most insignificant, vulnerable, defenseless members of society. And in all his teaching, whether they understood it or not, Jesus gave them fair warning that by serving as he had served they risked losing everything dear to them, including their own lives.
The Twelve may have had trouble understanding Jesus’ teachings, at least until after the resurrection, but down through the centuries a lot of his followers did understand what he was getting at. Many of them tried hard, risking – and even losing – their lives to welcome in Jesus’ name those whom polite society disdained. St. Brigid, St. Francis, St. Catherine of Siena, Bishop John Coleridge Patteson, who was martyred in Melanesia 1871, Constance and her companions, who died nursing Yellow Fever victims in Memphis in 1878, all of them understood Jesus’ teaching.
One who deeply understood Jesus’ command to welcome children in his name was Prudence Crandall.2 Have you ever heard of her? She is now on our church calendar. She was born into a Quaker family in Rhode Island in 1803 and was educated at the New England Friends School. Her own access to education left her passionate about teaching. She opened a girls’ school in Canterbury, Connecticut in 1831. Initially all her students were white. However, in 1833 Crandall defied convention and admitted Sarah Harris, an African American student who herself wanted to become a teacher. When outraged white parents demanded that Harris be expelled, Crandall started a new school, for African American girls. Demands that she close the school and threats to destroy it soon followed, but Crandall kept her word to her students to continue teaching them. When the school began to attract pupils from other states, the Connecticut legislature passed the so-called “Black Law,” making it a crime to teach out of state African American children. Under the law, Crandall was arrested, jailed, and convicted. The good citizens of Canterbury were outraged when her case was finally dismissed. On September 9, 1834 an angry mob smashed the windows of her school and set it on fire. For the safety of her students, her family, and herself, Crandall closed her school the next day. Having just married in August, Crandall then moved with her husband to Massachusetts. Following her husband’s death, Crandall moved to Elk Falls, Kansas, where she continued to work with children of all communities. A state historical marker in Elk Falls recognizes her work.
Many in our own time have also understood Jesus’ command to welcome in his name children, and all those disdained by polite society. I think of the Saint Joseph’s Family in Haiti, which runs an orphanage for formerly street boys in Port au Prince, another orphanage and day school for poor neighborhood children in Jacmel, and an orphanage for disabled children in the hills above Port au Prince. I think of Haiti Partners, which runs schools and trains teachers. I think of Episcopal Relief and Development, which has partnered with other agencies to end preventable deaths of children worldwide. I think of L’Arche, an international network of more than 150 communities dedicated to serving those with developmental disabilities. I think of the intentional community, the Rutba House in Durham, North Carolina. They serve a diverse group of young people in their own neighborhood, in a program that keeps children in school through mentoring and tutoring. I think of those who work with U.S.-born children of illegal immigrants, children who are American citizens, yet who face possible deportation with their parents. And I think of the collective efforts of this parish to be the Body of Christ in the world through providing for children’s physical needs in our diaper program and through welcoming children and their families to our Loaves and Fishes Dinners.
“Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me ….” Despite what we already do, I still hear a challenge in Jesus’ command. Do we understand that in following Jesus we leave ourselves open to the possibility that Jesus might want to change our expectations? Is there another way to welcome children and those with them on the margins that we have yet to see? Are we doing all that we can to effectively minister to children? Let’s start with our own children. Are we doing all we can to nurture them in the Christian faith? What else might we doing? Even now, work is going forward on cleaning out what once was a space for youth. Surely, creating an inviting space where our older children can gather is important to their formation. I’d like us to develop ways for our children to enjoy being together for activities other than worship, to work beside caring, thoughtful adults, to enjoy themselves as they are formed more closely to Jesus. We might also ask ourselves, what happens when our children leave this place? Is their formation as Jesus’ disciples happening anywhere else? What are they learning at home?
We might go on to ask ourselves, what are we doing for other people’s children? Do we need to consider ways to mentor, tutor, and perhaps even feed local children? At one point, we talked about partnering with a local school. Is that idea dead? What other needs do local children have? And if we ask ourselves why we might do any of these things, rest assured it is not so that we can play Lady Bountiful and feel good about ourselves. We undertake any of these ministries, because we see the face of Christ, in the faces of those to whom we minister. We undertake these ministries, because we have pledged ourselves to be the Body of Christ in the world, and we try as best we can to do what he did in the flesh, including welcoming children of all communities, and all those on the margins of society.
Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me ….”
“C’mon in, Maryam. Jesus is winding up. He’s just about done with talking about your son.” Maryam tentatively stood in the doorway of the front room. She saw the rabbi’s friends seated at his feet. She saw her son Ya’acov nestled in Jesus’ arms and Jesus looking down at him lovingly. Then Jesus gently lifted the boy up and placed him back in her arms. He looked at her and smiled. She saw the love in his eyes. And she knew, that from that moment on, her life would never be the same.
1. Albert Nolan, Jesus Today (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 2008), 50.
2. Holy Women, Holy Men (New York: Church Publishing, 2010), 558
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Words of Curse, Words of Blessing
What is your greatest regret? For many of us, it is, “I wish I hadn’t said that!” And what’s your second greatest regret? For many of us, it is, “I wish I had said that!” Speech has power! As Christians, as hearers of Scripture, we know that. In the very first sentences of Genesis, the first book of the Bible, God literally speaks the creation into being. God said, “Let there be light”; and there was light. And God said, “Let there be a dome in the midst of the waters, and let it separate the waters from the waters.” And God said, “Let there lights in the dome of the sky …, and let the waters bring forth swarms of living creatures …, and let the earth bring forth living creatures ….” Like the ancient Hebrews, ancient Hindus also recognized the creative power of speech. In the most ancient Hindu scriptures, the Vedas, the goddess of speech, Vac, speaks creation into being. Speech has power.
Speech has power. Sound, speech, and language, are inherent in all creation. Paul reminds the Christians in Rome – perhaps metaphorically – that in Christ, creation will be set free from bondage to decay. “We know,” he tells them, “that the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now.” For all we know, plants and insects may have language. Unquestionably animals do. Any birdwatcher has memorized all the distinctive tweets, burrs, whistles, and knocks of the many varieties of birds. Elephants, lions, bears, hyenas, just about all animals, except possibly giraffes, which are said to be voiceless, have distinctive vocalizations in different circumstances. If you live with cats or dogs, you know that there’s a difference between the meow of hunger and that of “Pet me,” or between the bark of “Who are you?” and that of “I’m ready for a walk.”
Even in this age of electronic communication, speech is still the primary form of human communication. Writing is a relatively recent invention, only within the last 5,000 years. Scripture, whether Hindu, Jewish, Christian, or Muslim, was written to be heard, not read silently. In fact, try it yourself: the next time you read Scripture at home, read it aloud. See if that gives you a different experience of it. It wasn’t until the middle of the nineteenth century that a majority of the people in the first world could read and write. Even today, there are many places in the world that are still predominantly oral cultures. And truth be told, though we may appreciate the advantages of electronic communication, most of still prefer oral communication. We still would prefer to hear the voices of those we love than receive an e-mail from them. Speech has power.
Speech has destructive power. Today’s portion of the Letter of James provides us with a strong reminder of the destructive power of speech. The reminder is especially poignant for those in positions of authority, as we face yet again our tendency to say the wrong thing. What frightening metaphors James uses: that the tongue can set ablaze an entire forest, that it can produce brackish water! Of course, none of this news to us: James could have been writing yesterday! Don’t we tell our children “Watch your mouth. Hold your tongue. Pipe down.” Don’t we know that the old comeback, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me,” is patently false? Don’t we wince when our child comes home from school crying because some thoughtless tyke has told him or her, “Boys don’t …, girls don’t ….” We know that words can hurt. Isn’t that why we so deeply regret the unkind words we’ve said in ignorance, pride, haste, or anger? Isn’t that why we instinctively know that hate speech and racist, sexist, ageist, and other similar slogans are wrong? Isn’t that why we fear someone who can, through the sheer power of their rhetoric, incite a mob to violence? Speech has power, and words can hurt.
Speech has power, and words can also heal and bless. Today’s Scripture also gives us powerful examples of how words can “pour forth” fresh water. The suffering servant in today’s reading from the prophet Isaiah thanks God for having given him “the tongue of a teacher,” so that he “may know how to sustain the weary with a word.” The psalmist pours out his heart to God, knowing that God “has heard the voice of my supplication.” Can’t you just picture Peter in today’s Gospel reading? Jesus has put the disciples on the spot. He wants them to not just parrot back to him what others have said about him. He wants to hear them declare for themselves how they understand the person to whom they have committed themselves. “But who do you say that I am? Don’t just have some vague thoughts, put it in words! Who am I for you?” And there’s Peter looking into Jesus’ face, making eye contact with him. He doesn’t hang back, he doesn’t waffle, he doesn’t say, “Uh, let me think about that. Let me consult my theological dictionary.” In his sudden realization of who Jesus is, Peter blurts out, “You are the Messiah.”
Now, we might think that Peter didn’t understand what he was saying. He really had no clue as to what kind of a messiah Jesus might actually be. When he tried to deflect Jesus from the path that Jesus was clearly stepping onto, Jesus firmly rebuked him (“Watch your mouth, Peter. Shut up!”) Then Jesus began leading Peter and all the disciples into a fuller understanding of where he was going. Even though Peter’s understanding was vague, Peter clearly had the courage to say something, to put into actual words what he was beginning to discern about Jesus. Speech has power, and the words that Peter spoke that day began a transformation in him that eventually enabled him to lead the newly-fledged Christian community.
Speech has power. Isn’t that why we appreciate compliments, why we treasure words of gratitude, encouragement, apology, consolation, welcome, and good counsel? Isn’t that why we regret so deeply the words we didn’t say when we should have and give ourselves a tiny pat on the back when, by the grace of God, we do say the right thing? Isn’t that why we admire those who can move others through the sheer power of their words? Who can forget the moving simplicity of Abraham Lincoln’s Gettysburg address, or the glorious vision of Martin Luther King’s “I have a Dream” speech? Isn’t that why we know that we need to talk to God? God may “know our needs before we ask,” but we still need to say directly to God, as Peter did to Jesus, those words of praise, contrition, intercession, and gratitude that begin the transformation of our own souls.
Tom Gordon tells the story of Fraser, on old fisherman on the North Sea coast.1 Even though he’d already celebrated his seventy-second birthday, “fishing was in his blood.” The herring of his youth gave out, and so he turned to shellfish, and then to lobsters, for which the local restaurants paid well. He took his boat, the Mary Anne, out about three times a week, always with another “retired” fisherman aboard – since his daughters had expressly forbidden him to go out alone. But when his grandson Stuart was home from college, the retirees stayed home, and Stuart was all the crew Fraser needed. They’d become best mates, those two. As they worked Fraser told Stuart wonderful stories about his mother or grandmother. Stuart, in turn, confided some of his problems and questions to Fraser. One day, on their return to shore, Stuart persuaded Fraser to come have a pint with him at the local pub. As they sat at a corner table, Stuart told his grandfather about his struggles in college. He was thinking about dropping out and coming back home, perhaps spending more time fishing. Fraser listened intently. At the end of his confession, Stuart said, “Haven’t you felt like that sometimes? When you’d worked really hard, or when the fishing grounds were empty, weren’t there times when you wanted to pack it in?” Smiling, Fraser said, “Well, laddie, you may be right enough, but then, fishing’s in my blood, so there’s nothing I can do about that.” Pausing for a minute or two, and then looking Stuart in the eye, the old man told the story of William Greenough Thayer Shedd, a nineteenth-century Presbyterian theologian. “Whether this man was a sailor,” he said, “or had fishing in his blood, I don’t know, but I heard that he did say this. ‘A ship is safe in harbor. But that’s not what ships are for.’ Whether it’s a great ship or the Mary Anne, we could tie her up and keep her safe, or we could take her out and go fishing with her. Eh?” Stuart understood and returned Fraser’s smile. Speech has power.
Christianity is an incarnational religion. We are called to do, not just think. Yes, hands are important. But we are made in the image of a God who spoke, who spoke creation into being, who spoke to the Israelites in their deliverance from Egyptian slavery, who spoke through the prophets, who spoke through the Word made flesh, and continues to speak to us today. We are called to speak in return. Speak to God. Tell God what is on your heart and mind, what you fear, and what you hope for. Then speak to each other. Speak the word of loving counsel, as Fraser did to Stuart. Say, “I’m sorry.” Say “I love you,” while you still can. Speak out against injustice and for peace. Partner with God and help speak a renewed creation into being.
1. With an Open Eye (Glasgow: Wild Good Publications, 2011), 272-4.
Speech has power. Sound, speech, and language, are inherent in all creation. Paul reminds the Christians in Rome – perhaps metaphorically – that in Christ, creation will be set free from bondage to decay. “We know,” he tells them, “that the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now.” For all we know, plants and insects may have language. Unquestionably animals do. Any birdwatcher has memorized all the distinctive tweets, burrs, whistles, and knocks of the many varieties of birds. Elephants, lions, bears, hyenas, just about all animals, except possibly giraffes, which are said to be voiceless, have distinctive vocalizations in different circumstances. If you live with cats or dogs, you know that there’s a difference between the meow of hunger and that of “Pet me,” or between the bark of “Who are you?” and that of “I’m ready for a walk.”
Even in this age of electronic communication, speech is still the primary form of human communication. Writing is a relatively recent invention, only within the last 5,000 years. Scripture, whether Hindu, Jewish, Christian, or Muslim, was written to be heard, not read silently. In fact, try it yourself: the next time you read Scripture at home, read it aloud. See if that gives you a different experience of it. It wasn’t until the middle of the nineteenth century that a majority of the people in the first world could read and write. Even today, there are many places in the world that are still predominantly oral cultures. And truth be told, though we may appreciate the advantages of electronic communication, most of still prefer oral communication. We still would prefer to hear the voices of those we love than receive an e-mail from them. Speech has power.
Speech has destructive power. Today’s portion of the Letter of James provides us with a strong reminder of the destructive power of speech. The reminder is especially poignant for those in positions of authority, as we face yet again our tendency to say the wrong thing. What frightening metaphors James uses: that the tongue can set ablaze an entire forest, that it can produce brackish water! Of course, none of this news to us: James could have been writing yesterday! Don’t we tell our children “Watch your mouth. Hold your tongue. Pipe down.” Don’t we know that the old comeback, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me,” is patently false? Don’t we wince when our child comes home from school crying because some thoughtless tyke has told him or her, “Boys don’t …, girls don’t ….” We know that words can hurt. Isn’t that why we so deeply regret the unkind words we’ve said in ignorance, pride, haste, or anger? Isn’t that why we instinctively know that hate speech and racist, sexist, ageist, and other similar slogans are wrong? Isn’t that why we fear someone who can, through the sheer power of their rhetoric, incite a mob to violence? Speech has power, and words can hurt.
Speech has power, and words can also heal and bless. Today’s Scripture also gives us powerful examples of how words can “pour forth” fresh water. The suffering servant in today’s reading from the prophet Isaiah thanks God for having given him “the tongue of a teacher,” so that he “may know how to sustain the weary with a word.” The psalmist pours out his heart to God, knowing that God “has heard the voice of my supplication.” Can’t you just picture Peter in today’s Gospel reading? Jesus has put the disciples on the spot. He wants them to not just parrot back to him what others have said about him. He wants to hear them declare for themselves how they understand the person to whom they have committed themselves. “But who do you say that I am? Don’t just have some vague thoughts, put it in words! Who am I for you?” And there’s Peter looking into Jesus’ face, making eye contact with him. He doesn’t hang back, he doesn’t waffle, he doesn’t say, “Uh, let me think about that. Let me consult my theological dictionary.” In his sudden realization of who Jesus is, Peter blurts out, “You are the Messiah.”
Now, we might think that Peter didn’t understand what he was saying. He really had no clue as to what kind of a messiah Jesus might actually be. When he tried to deflect Jesus from the path that Jesus was clearly stepping onto, Jesus firmly rebuked him (“Watch your mouth, Peter. Shut up!”) Then Jesus began leading Peter and all the disciples into a fuller understanding of where he was going. Even though Peter’s understanding was vague, Peter clearly had the courage to say something, to put into actual words what he was beginning to discern about Jesus. Speech has power, and the words that Peter spoke that day began a transformation in him that eventually enabled him to lead the newly-fledged Christian community.
Speech has power. Isn’t that why we appreciate compliments, why we treasure words of gratitude, encouragement, apology, consolation, welcome, and good counsel? Isn’t that why we regret so deeply the words we didn’t say when we should have and give ourselves a tiny pat on the back when, by the grace of God, we do say the right thing? Isn’t that why we admire those who can move others through the sheer power of their words? Who can forget the moving simplicity of Abraham Lincoln’s Gettysburg address, or the glorious vision of Martin Luther King’s “I have a Dream” speech? Isn’t that why we know that we need to talk to God? God may “know our needs before we ask,” but we still need to say directly to God, as Peter did to Jesus, those words of praise, contrition, intercession, and gratitude that begin the transformation of our own souls.
Tom Gordon tells the story of Fraser, on old fisherman on the North Sea coast.1 Even though he’d already celebrated his seventy-second birthday, “fishing was in his blood.” The herring of his youth gave out, and so he turned to shellfish, and then to lobsters, for which the local restaurants paid well. He took his boat, the Mary Anne, out about three times a week, always with another “retired” fisherman aboard – since his daughters had expressly forbidden him to go out alone. But when his grandson Stuart was home from college, the retirees stayed home, and Stuart was all the crew Fraser needed. They’d become best mates, those two. As they worked Fraser told Stuart wonderful stories about his mother or grandmother. Stuart, in turn, confided some of his problems and questions to Fraser. One day, on their return to shore, Stuart persuaded Fraser to come have a pint with him at the local pub. As they sat at a corner table, Stuart told his grandfather about his struggles in college. He was thinking about dropping out and coming back home, perhaps spending more time fishing. Fraser listened intently. At the end of his confession, Stuart said, “Haven’t you felt like that sometimes? When you’d worked really hard, or when the fishing grounds were empty, weren’t there times when you wanted to pack it in?” Smiling, Fraser said, “Well, laddie, you may be right enough, but then, fishing’s in my blood, so there’s nothing I can do about that.” Pausing for a minute or two, and then looking Stuart in the eye, the old man told the story of William Greenough Thayer Shedd, a nineteenth-century Presbyterian theologian. “Whether this man was a sailor,” he said, “or had fishing in his blood, I don’t know, but I heard that he did say this. ‘A ship is safe in harbor. But that’s not what ships are for.’ Whether it’s a great ship or the Mary Anne, we could tie her up and keep her safe, or we could take her out and go fishing with her. Eh?” Stuart understood and returned Fraser’s smile. Speech has power.
Christianity is an incarnational religion. We are called to do, not just think. Yes, hands are important. But we are made in the image of a God who spoke, who spoke creation into being, who spoke to the Israelites in their deliverance from Egyptian slavery, who spoke through the prophets, who spoke through the Word made flesh, and continues to speak to us today. We are called to speak in return. Speak to God. Tell God what is on your heart and mind, what you fear, and what you hope for. Then speak to each other. Speak the word of loving counsel, as Fraser did to Stuart. Say, “I’m sorry.” Say “I love you,” while you still can. Speak out against injustice and for peace. Partner with God and help speak a renewed creation into being.
1. With an Open Eye (Glasgow: Wild Good Publications, 2011), 272-4.
Sunday, September 2, 2012
Hard Words
I hate today’s Scripture readings! I don’t want to preach on any of them! I don’t want to confront what any of them have to tell me! I don’t want to hear Moses remind the Israelites that they are to fashion their lives, not according to the gods they knew in Egypt, not according to the gods of the people around them, but according to the Law that God has graciously given them. I don’t want to hear the psalm lay out for me the standards of behavior that God expects of anyone who seeks to draw near to God. I don’t want to hear Jesus remind religious leaders, including me, that being holy does not consist in hedging our lives around with myriad human traditions. I certainly don’t want to hear Jesus remind me that most of the world’s evil stems from our own base desires. Nor do I want to hear James’ reminders of God’s expectations of me as Jesus’ disciple. I don’t want to hear any of it, and I don’t want to look at my own life in the light of what God expects of me.
In some ways, James’ message is the hardest to hear – and we will be hearing different parts of it all this month. Actually, except for a very brief portion during Advent in Year A, this month is the only time in the Revised Common Lectionary that we hear from the Epistle of James. Perhaps that is because in some ways, James is a strange letter. It was probably written in the early ‘60s, most probably by James, the brother of Jesus, who was the leader of the Christian community in Jerusalem. But it wasn’t written to a specific community as Paul’s letters were. Because of that, and because it doesn’t mention Jesus much, Martin Luther called it an “epistle of straw.” Nevertheless, we need to hear James’ voice – even if we don’t want to hear what James has to tell us. We need to hear James’ voice because he could have been writing yesterday! We can’t pass his words off with a shrug and say, “Well, that was two thousand years ago. Things are different now.” And we need to hear James’ voice because James so aptly and expertly zeroes in on all the ways that we avoid hearing the truth about ourselves and resist cooperating with God.
We are close to the beginning of the letter in today’s reading. James has commended his readers for their endurance and resistance to temptation. Now he has begun his major theme, which is the exhortation we’ll hear later in the letter that “faith without works is dead.” James begins by outlining for us three ways we deceive ourselves about who we are and what God expects of us. First, James reminds us that none of us is a self-made person. “Every perfect gift is from above,” James tells us, given to us so that we might “become a first fruits of his creatures.” All that we have, every gift and skill that we have, all our resources are gifts of God. All of us are dependent on the accidents of our birth, our families of origin, our teachers, all the people who support and encourage us, and all those around us who keep our way of life going. Do you have trouble remembering that you’re not self-made? Before bed, try a review of your day focusing on the events and people for which you’re thankful. With God’s help, you may become more aware of how much other people help make our lives possible.
Second, James reminds us that we are called to do more than just pay lip-service to the Gospel. “Be doers of the word, and not merely hearers who deceive themselves,” he exhorts us. Yes, we may – and should – worship regularly, say the creeds with as much belief as we can, and proudly name ourselves as Christians. However, we also need to let the Gospel work an inner transformation on us, so that it also affects our behavior. Do you remember the song, “We are one in the Spirit?” Do you remember the refrain? “And they’ll know we are Christians by our love.” Takes me back to the ‘60s! But it’s still true. Christianity is an incarnational religion. The Word became flesh and actively worked among us. We may come to commitment to Jesus in our heads, as we accept the possibility that we really do see God in the face of Jesus. We may voice that commitment with our lips, as we profess our faith, make promises, and allow ourselves to be baptized and confirmed. However, ultimately our commitment has to translate itself to our hands. Our commitment to Jesus has to impact what we do in our lives. There is no such thing as a “gallery Christian.” There is no one who is not called to “walk the talk.” They will know we are Christians by how we live.
And how are we to live? What are we to do? James reminds us that the third way that we deceive ourselves is to think that we can neglect either personal morality or social justice ministry. Any one of our lections for today gives us clear ideas about what personal morality consists in. Try testing your life against the standards of Psalm 15. Does anyone of us measure up to God’s standards for speech or action? If we practiced private confession – which some Episcopalians do – or if you were to do serious self-examination, say in Lent, the list in today’s Gospel would be a good starting point. At the very least we might ask ourselves how well we follow James’ exhortation to “bridle our tongues.” How much wickedness might we avoid if we could just keep our mouths shut!
However, living as Jesus’ disciple does not end with sterling personal morality. James warns us in no uncertain terms that, “Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to care for orphans and widows in their distress….” True religion includes both personal morality and social ministry. True religion, we will hear as the letter progresses, includes showing mercy, striving for peace, helping the needy, loving our neighbor, and supporting a fair minimum wage. It’s not a question of one or the other: if we are truly Jesus’ disciples, if our lives have truly been transformed by the Gospel, then it is both/and. We are called to a way of life that reflects both a high standard of personal morality and passionate commitment to the needs of the “least of these.”
In James’ time, widows and orphans were those on the farthest margins of society, those in the most dire straits. If we are truly committed to being Jesus’ disciples, we must ask ourselves who are the widows and orphans of today? Millions around the world live in desperate conditions and daily face death from starvation, disease, or persecution. Millions more face the ravages of severe weather. What responsibility do we, as Jesus’ disciples, have to them?
Grammy winning singer Rihanna was born in Barbados and came to the U.S. when she was just sixteen. Now twenty-four, Rihanna has already supported seventeen different charities. She has donated her earnings, made personal appearances, and given benefit performances. After her performances, she has met children from local charities, signed autographs, and posed for pictures with her young fans. She was a 2007 Cartier LOVECHARITY Bracelet Ambassador, she performed at Madonna's Raising Malawi/UNICEF fundraiser, and she even used her fame to help a mother of two find a bone marrow donor. In 2006, to strengthen her support of children in need, Rihanna created the Believe Foundation to help terminally ill children. Explaining her reasons for starting the Foundation, Rihanna said, “When I was young and I would watch television and I would see all the children suffering, I always said: when I grow up, I want to help.”1
And who are the widows and orphans among us? Poor, single mothers, perhaps, like the ones who turn up in my office? Those who come to the Mobile Food Pantry, or receive our diapers, or can’t afford school supplies for their children? How about all the others in this county, this state, this country who live on minimum wages at best and who lack basic healthcare or enough to eat? How about the victims of gun violence? Those caught in the throes of addiction, or those seeking to free themselves from abusive spouses? How about those struggling to rebuild their lives after having served in Iraq or Afghanistan, or having been incarcerated? Are we ministering to them as a church, as a nation? In this election season, are we asking our politicians to explain their understanding of government’s responsibility to care for the poor?
At this point, you might be asking, where is the good news in all of this? None of these texts provides us with a lot of feel-good reassurance. In terms of our responsibilities as followers of the one who went to the Cross, God does not let us off the hook! Even so, that we are here at all, that we are willing to grapple with these hard texts shows us that God is already at work in us. So perhaps the good news is this: if we pay attention to the needs of those around us, if we pray, if we periodically examine our lives against God’s standards, and if we do our best to follow God’s leading, God will help us to grow up into Christ. God will encourage, support, and deepen our desire to be more like him who is “our pattern and our King.” So be it, Lord.
1. http://www.looktothestars.org/celebrity/593-rihanna
In some ways, James’ message is the hardest to hear – and we will be hearing different parts of it all this month. Actually, except for a very brief portion during Advent in Year A, this month is the only time in the Revised Common Lectionary that we hear from the Epistle of James. Perhaps that is because in some ways, James is a strange letter. It was probably written in the early ‘60s, most probably by James, the brother of Jesus, who was the leader of the Christian community in Jerusalem. But it wasn’t written to a specific community as Paul’s letters were. Because of that, and because it doesn’t mention Jesus much, Martin Luther called it an “epistle of straw.” Nevertheless, we need to hear James’ voice – even if we don’t want to hear what James has to tell us. We need to hear James’ voice because he could have been writing yesterday! We can’t pass his words off with a shrug and say, “Well, that was two thousand years ago. Things are different now.” And we need to hear James’ voice because James so aptly and expertly zeroes in on all the ways that we avoid hearing the truth about ourselves and resist cooperating with God.
We are close to the beginning of the letter in today’s reading. James has commended his readers for their endurance and resistance to temptation. Now he has begun his major theme, which is the exhortation we’ll hear later in the letter that “faith without works is dead.” James begins by outlining for us three ways we deceive ourselves about who we are and what God expects of us. First, James reminds us that none of us is a self-made person. “Every perfect gift is from above,” James tells us, given to us so that we might “become a first fruits of his creatures.” All that we have, every gift and skill that we have, all our resources are gifts of God. All of us are dependent on the accidents of our birth, our families of origin, our teachers, all the people who support and encourage us, and all those around us who keep our way of life going. Do you have trouble remembering that you’re not self-made? Before bed, try a review of your day focusing on the events and people for which you’re thankful. With God’s help, you may become more aware of how much other people help make our lives possible.
Second, James reminds us that we are called to do more than just pay lip-service to the Gospel. “Be doers of the word, and not merely hearers who deceive themselves,” he exhorts us. Yes, we may – and should – worship regularly, say the creeds with as much belief as we can, and proudly name ourselves as Christians. However, we also need to let the Gospel work an inner transformation on us, so that it also affects our behavior. Do you remember the song, “We are one in the Spirit?” Do you remember the refrain? “And they’ll know we are Christians by our love.” Takes me back to the ‘60s! But it’s still true. Christianity is an incarnational religion. The Word became flesh and actively worked among us. We may come to commitment to Jesus in our heads, as we accept the possibility that we really do see God in the face of Jesus. We may voice that commitment with our lips, as we profess our faith, make promises, and allow ourselves to be baptized and confirmed. However, ultimately our commitment has to translate itself to our hands. Our commitment to Jesus has to impact what we do in our lives. There is no such thing as a “gallery Christian.” There is no one who is not called to “walk the talk.” They will know we are Christians by how we live.
And how are we to live? What are we to do? James reminds us that the third way that we deceive ourselves is to think that we can neglect either personal morality or social justice ministry. Any one of our lections for today gives us clear ideas about what personal morality consists in. Try testing your life against the standards of Psalm 15. Does anyone of us measure up to God’s standards for speech or action? If we practiced private confession – which some Episcopalians do – or if you were to do serious self-examination, say in Lent, the list in today’s Gospel would be a good starting point. At the very least we might ask ourselves how well we follow James’ exhortation to “bridle our tongues.” How much wickedness might we avoid if we could just keep our mouths shut!
However, living as Jesus’ disciple does not end with sterling personal morality. James warns us in no uncertain terms that, “Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to care for orphans and widows in their distress….” True religion includes both personal morality and social ministry. True religion, we will hear as the letter progresses, includes showing mercy, striving for peace, helping the needy, loving our neighbor, and supporting a fair minimum wage. It’s not a question of one or the other: if we are truly Jesus’ disciples, if our lives have truly been transformed by the Gospel, then it is both/and. We are called to a way of life that reflects both a high standard of personal morality and passionate commitment to the needs of the “least of these.”
In James’ time, widows and orphans were those on the farthest margins of society, those in the most dire straits. If we are truly committed to being Jesus’ disciples, we must ask ourselves who are the widows and orphans of today? Millions around the world live in desperate conditions and daily face death from starvation, disease, or persecution. Millions more face the ravages of severe weather. What responsibility do we, as Jesus’ disciples, have to them?
Grammy winning singer Rihanna was born in Barbados and came to the U.S. when she was just sixteen. Now twenty-four, Rihanna has already supported seventeen different charities. She has donated her earnings, made personal appearances, and given benefit performances. After her performances, she has met children from local charities, signed autographs, and posed for pictures with her young fans. She was a 2007 Cartier LOVECHARITY Bracelet Ambassador, she performed at Madonna's Raising Malawi/UNICEF fundraiser, and she even used her fame to help a mother of two find a bone marrow donor. In 2006, to strengthen her support of children in need, Rihanna created the Believe Foundation to help terminally ill children. Explaining her reasons for starting the Foundation, Rihanna said, “When I was young and I would watch television and I would see all the children suffering, I always said: when I grow up, I want to help.”1
And who are the widows and orphans among us? Poor, single mothers, perhaps, like the ones who turn up in my office? Those who come to the Mobile Food Pantry, or receive our diapers, or can’t afford school supplies for their children? How about all the others in this county, this state, this country who live on minimum wages at best and who lack basic healthcare or enough to eat? How about the victims of gun violence? Those caught in the throes of addiction, or those seeking to free themselves from abusive spouses? How about those struggling to rebuild their lives after having served in Iraq or Afghanistan, or having been incarcerated? Are we ministering to them as a church, as a nation? In this election season, are we asking our politicians to explain their understanding of government’s responsibility to care for the poor?
At this point, you might be asking, where is the good news in all of this? None of these texts provides us with a lot of feel-good reassurance. In terms of our responsibilities as followers of the one who went to the Cross, God does not let us off the hook! Even so, that we are here at all, that we are willing to grapple with these hard texts shows us that God is already at work in us. So perhaps the good news is this: if we pay attention to the needs of those around us, if we pray, if we periodically examine our lives against God’s standards, and if we do our best to follow God’s leading, God will help us to grow up into Christ. God will encourage, support, and deepen our desire to be more like him who is “our pattern and our King.” So be it, Lord.
1. http://www.looktothestars.org/celebrity/593-rihanna
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