RCL - Proper 5 A - 08 Jun 2008

Hoping Against Hope

Mount Calvary Monastery, Santa Barbara, CA
Brother James Michael Dowd, n/OHC
RCL - Proper 5 A - Sunday 08 June 2008

Genesis 12:1-9
Romans 4:13-25
Matthew 9:9-13, 18-26


In the name of the Living God: Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

I have spent the better part of my adult life wondering about how the Church could be “relevant to today’s society” and, how I, in my own little way, might help the Church to be “relevant to today’s society.” In fact, there are seminars on this very topic, and courses on this very topic, and endless sermons on this very topic. Clerical and Religious types sit around debating how we might make the Church “relevant to today’s society.” Many suggest that the Church will die if we do not become “relevant to today’s society.”

But at some point along the way, I came to believe that the Church is not “relevant to today’s society.” And that it had no hope of becoming “relevant to today’s society.” And that the last thing we Clerical and Religious types should be doing is attempting to make the Church “relevant to today’s society.”

For, there is nothing about being Church – that is, the People of God, followers of Jesus - that is “relevant to today’s society.” In fact, the call that we have received, by virtue of our baptism, is to abandon all cares of this world and to follow the Lord immediately, unequivocally and irrevocably. In order to do this, we must, like Abram and Matthew before us, place all of our trust in the saving power of our God. But what does it mean to follow the Lord immediately, unequivocally and irrevocably? Well, to me our faith in Jesus, the Christ, demands that we adhere to a belief in hope; that we cling, against all odds, to hopefulness; that we put all our trust in the hope promised to us by the Lord of All. Today’s readings are filled with examples of people who, as St. Paul says in his Letter to the Romans, are “hoping against hope.” And hope, quite frankly, isn’t relevant to today’s society. But before I get into that, let’s look at why hope was not relevant in society at the time of Jesus, either. Let me begin with Matthew.

Now most folks are a little suspect of any tax collector. But Matthew is a special case. He was a Jew, collecting incredibly oppressive taxes from his fellow Jews for the pagan Emperor of Rome – a man who claimed to be a god. And Matthew would have made his own money by adding his own “take” onto the top of what Rome demanded. So other, more faithful Jews, looked upon him as a man who was corrupt, traitorous, and a pagan idolater. He was, to put it plainly, the worst kind of outcast. Despised by his own people and condescended to by the Romans. Let’s face it no one likes a traitor.

I’ve often wondered what Matthew thought of himself. He obviously liked money – perhaps he was particularly greedy. We don’t know for sure, but it takes a strong impulse to act against your own people. Perhaps it was greed, perhaps it was that he had no other options in life. But my guess is that whatever it was, he probably felt pretty much alone in the world. He had written his life into a corner by his sin and had separated himself from the Chosen People. Being so separated from his own people, and never being accepted by the Romans, he very likely was without hope. Faithful Jews and Romans alike were only too pleased for him to remain mired in his own hopelessness.

And how does Jesus respond to that? Rather than shunning him, Jesus asks Matthew to “follow him” and invites him and a bunch of his fellow sinners out to dinner.

When Jesus is confronted by the Pharisees about dining with sinners, he responds that it is exactly these folks – the sinners – who need him. That it is for the sick that a physician comes.

Next we have the woman who was hemorrhaging for twelve years. She was not allowed to touch Jesus, or anyone else, because she was unclean. If she did touch them, she would make them unclean as well. No one would have been allowed to touch her, neither would she be allowed to touch anyone else. This was not because she had a disease that could be contracted. No, the Levitical code that all Jews lived by stated that a bleeding woman was unclean. In cases where a normal menstruation occurred, the woman separated herself from her husband, family and village for a few days, until she was once again “clean.” This was standard practice and while we would never think of doing that today, it was not considered odd or difficult for a woman to have to adhere to this practice.

But this particular woman never stopped bleeding. In fact, she bled in some form or another for twelve years, meaning that for twelve long years she could never lie with her husband, she could never hold her children, she would not be able to hug her friends upon greeting them, she could not go to the marketplace, she would not be welcome in the synagogue. Talk about hopeless.

And how does Jesus respond to this sick woman? He does not recoil from her touch. He loves her by simply affirming that her faith has healed her.

And then, we have the leader of the synagogue who is desperate because his daughter has died. He comes to Jesus and asks him to lay his hand on her. No need for explanation. What could be more hopeless that losing a child?
And how does Jesus respond to the leader of the synagogue? He goes to his home, not to mourn, but to restore life. He brings life back into the world by waking her, as if from a sleep.

It seems to me that Matthew, the hemorrhaging woman, and the leader of the synagogue, all have one thing in common. They each see, in Jesus, hope for their desperate situation. Their lives have been destroyed, respectively, by sin, disease and death, and there is only one cure and only one physician that can heal them. That cure is hope, and that physician is Jesus.

Matthew was ostracized because of his sin, and Jesus sat down to dinner with him. The sick woman was marginalized because of her disease, and Jesus welcomed her touch. The leader of the synagogue was laughed at for hoping his daughter could live again, and Jesus gave her new life. In each case, Jesus acts in a way that is opposite of what society thinks is appropriate. And in doing this, Jesus helps each of these folks to believe that in Jesus there is hope to overcome their own sin, their own disease, their own mourning.

So, what made you give up a weekend to spend time at a monastery? What made my brothers and I give up a great deal to become monks? Why do we put so much time into worshiping our God in community and praying to him in the privacy of our cells? Why does each of you give so much of your time, money, and energy to care for the sick, the poor, the marginalized? We do it, I believe, because of that wonderful gift of hope.

And that’s what I mean when I say that the Church is really not about being relevant to society. A man who gives up his career, the possibility of an intimate relationship, and all the usual trappings of success, in order to seek God with his whole being, is not relevant to society. People who give up a weekend to spend it at a monastery are not relevant to today’s society. At least not to a society that is filled with a level of noise that makes the pursuit of God almost impossible; at least not to a society whose government promotes an unjust war and record numbers of executions to save us from alleged bad guys; at least not to a culture that promotes violence against women in our popular music and films as a way to “freely express” ourselves; at least not to a society that encourages the use of abortion as just another form of birth control; at least not to a marketplace that cajoles us to shop until we drop; at least not to a society that finds it acceptable to have large numbers of homeless people wandering our streets.

When we live in the hope of the Incarnation, we are incapable of believing that violence will solve our problems. For violence is a violation of the Body of Christ. When we live in the hope of the Passion, we are incapable of believing that greed will buy us happiness. For greed consumes a soul and burns it alive. When we live in the hope of the Resurrection, we are incapable of believing that permissiveness will fulfill us. For a life of permissiveness is to deny the glory of the Resurrected Christ. Hope is the antithesis of the values of our current society. To hope means to believe that Jesus can and will forgive us, or heal us, or raise us to new life.

My guess is, that each of you holds a hope – in the deepest part of your souls. That hope, I believe, is for wholeness, for holiness. A hope that calls to you in the dark corners of the night, or while you’re driving on the frantic freeway, or while toiling at your desk, or praying here in church. A hope that calls you to turn away from the sin, disease or death that binds your hands, hinders your heart, and destroys your soul. A hope that calls you to follow Jesus. To follow him immediately, unequivocally, and irrevocably. Believe with your whole being that just as Jesus called his followers to stand with him and to reject the personal and societal sins of his day, he calls each and every one of us to stand with him today, Sunday, and to reject the personal and societal sins of our day. Go ahead and dare to be irrelevant. Go ahead and hope against hope. Go ahead and follow Jesus.

Amen.

RCL - Proper 4 A - 01 Jun 2008

Mount Calvary Monastery, Santa Barbara, CA
Brother Joseph Brown, OHC
RCL - Proper 4 A - Sunday 01 June 2008

Romans 1: 16-17
Matthew 7:21-29

Genesis 6: 9-22; 7:24; 8:14-19

Jesus flatly states: “Not everyone who says to me 'Lord, Lord,' is going to enter the Kingdom of Heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father in Heaven.”

Now before I go any further I can hear the church on one side saying: “Hey! wait a minute!, Jesus wouldn't say that. He was totally all inclusive, would never reject anyone and even the title “Lord” is so un-Jesus-like. It has patriarchal overtones of domination and power over! That verse must have been an addition during the Constantinian Overthrow of the Primitive Church and propagated by the hierarchal model of Roman domination.”

Now, it would make everything so much easier if we could just dismiss the passages in scripture that we don't like. I think we could all make a list of the “hard sayings” of Jesus and through some method of “current” biblio-sociological scholarship, make them go away. The problem with that, for me, is that when you look at the verses folks would like to dismiss, it never includes the Sermon on the Mount.

Folks love the Sermon on the Mount. As well we should, it is the Law, the Torah, of Jesus. In it Jesus has given us the summary of the law and the prophets and the very base on which our moral life is built. Or should be built. It is the Sermon on the Mount that precedes our reading from the gospel today and it is the context in which Jesus gives us this hard saying. And it should make us squirm.

On the Mount, in Matthew, Chapter 5, Jesus has told us what we are to do if we are to call him Lord: We are to to be poor in spirit, we are to be meek, we are to be merciful, we are to hunger for righteousness, we are to be pure in heart, we are to be peacemakers, and if we are doing this right we are going to be persecuted. We are not to be resentful with a brother or sister, we are to defer to the other even when we are right, we are not to retaliate or take another to court in a lawsuit, look on another with lust, swear an oath, or dissolve a marriage. And then to make this even more difficult we are to love our enemy as ourselves. In Matthew 6, Jesus goes on to say: do not be pious in public just so people can see how religious you are, but do your charity in secret.

When we pray we are to keep it simple and quiet, and how we forgive others will be the measure to which we are forgiven. We will acknowledge Jesus as our Lord when we do not judge the intent of another, and are minding our own business. We are proclaiming Jesus as Lord when we trust in the will of His Father and turn the worries and concerns of our daily life over to him. And if we do that, ours is the Kingdom of Heaven. He clearly states that this will be hard and that the gate that leads to this life under his lordship is narrow, and not all will find it. He is saying “Here are the terms, do you accept?”

Jesus then gives us a guide with which to measure how we are doing: What are our fruits? Are they good, wholesome and life-given or nasty, rotten and poisonous. Matthew 7:19 states: “Every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire. Thus, you will know them by their fruits.” Ouch. Jesus Christ has laid out for us in no uncertain terms what it means if we are to follow him as Lord. That is the context for today's Gospel. Now, I want to jump ahead to the second part of today's reading.

Here is a parable about building. In the Middle East, the home, literally the house, was the central core of one's life. The extent to which this is still true is evident by the fact that governments tear down a criminal's house. Much of the Old Testament is about acquiring the land of Israel, and that history continues today. So the parable of the house builder is a vivid sign. But, as in all parables there is a deeper, more personal meaning.

If the house represents our life, as it did for Jesus' hearers, the question becomes on what, or whom, are you building the foundation of your life? Because storms, floods and winds will come; emotional traumas, health crisis, death, unemployment, war, disillusionment, rejection and lost love are part and parcel of every human beings life. The monastic life is in no way immune from these events. Believe me, in someways the pain from these events can be even more pointed, because our life doesn't, or at least our life shouldn't, provide for the many distractions and “drugs” that are available to numb the pain.

The longer that I am here (and I am really just a babe in all this) the more I see that if I make anything other than Jesus Christ the rock on which I build this foundation of monastic life, I will be swept away and the fall will be great. I have seen it happen, and I know that unless I move daily, hourly, to make Christ the foundation of my life, I am lost. To paraphrase for myself today's hard saying it would read: Lord, Lord, did I not give up my career, my family, my relationships, sex, money, property and prestige?

Didn't I wear a white habit and receive communion everyday, and chant the psalms (maybe not always so great, but hey, I was trying!). He may say “Depart from me. I never knew you.” The danger is when we substitute the important for the foundational. It is important to be inclusive, it is important to live the monastic life with integrity, it is important to welcome guest and provide hospitality and be a loving listener. But the danger is when these become the foundation instead of Christ.

All of the incense, icons, Eucharist, devotionals, liturgy, scholarship, youth groups, social action committees or gracious guest house living means nothing if I am not feeding the hungry, tending the sick, visiting the lonely, (and not just writing a check so someone else can do it), burying the dead, forgiving my enemy (even the enemies that are in the church), making peace, and striving always to greater purity of heart in Jesus Christ. And that is the blessing or curse that God sets before us in today's reading from Deuteronomy.

If I listen to the words of Jesus and become a doer of the word, I will find blessing. If I just hear the words, give intellectual ascent, and make an excuse as to why the hard part doesn't really apply to me, whether it is because I am a good tither, or I can quote all scripture in the original language (KJV of course) or I am a pastor or I am a monk...Then I can't say that I didn't know. Am I going to choose to allow Jesus to be my Lord and Savior? As my Foundation? Am I going to, as the words of the Rule of Saint Benedict instructs his monks, “Listen with the ear of my heart to the Father that loves me?" I have set before me life and death.

“These are the terms. Do you accept?”

RCL - Proper 4 A - 01 Jun 2008

Firm Foundation Love
Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY

Br. Lary Pearce, OHC
RCL - Proper 4 A - Sunday 01 June 2008

Genesis 6:9-22; 7:24; 8:14-19
Romans 1:16-17; 3:22b-31
Matthew 7:21-29

Today’s readings seem rather mysterious to me. The Gospel is from the seventh chapter of Matthew which begins with the admonition, “Do not judge lest you be judged.” This is followed by “Cast not your pearls before swine,” “Knock and it shall be opened,” “Which of you if your child asks for bread would give a stone?,” “If you then who are evil know how to give good gifts to your, How much more will your Father in heaven give good things to those who ask him!,” 7:12: “In everything do to others as you would have them do to you.”

We all know these sayings. I did not know or did not remember till writing this homily that they are all packed into the seventh chapter of Mathew. In this context the wisdom of “not everyone who says to me “Lord, Lord,” will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father in heaven.” I am relieved to know that my salvation does not depend on my doing many deeds of power and calling on the name of the Lord. Still I am puzzled by the possibility and indeed the requirement that a miserable sinner like me has to do the will of the Father or be cast into hell.

Clearly the will of the Father has to do with building a house on a firm foundation. This firm foundation is the will of God which the follower of Jesus knows as the self sacrificing love of God. One does good to one’s fellows not because they are wonderful people but because they have at the core of their being the image and likeness of God. Strangely enough, this image and likeness is to be found in all sorts and conditions of people not just well educated folks with good manners. Recognizing this image of God and honoring it in my fellow humans is my way of showing love for God, and it is my way of trying to build a firm foundation for my eternal home.

Think of this reminds me of something that happened in 1993 at Mount Calvary in Santa Barbara. Santa Barbara is an earthly paradise, at least climatically, that is blessed in many ways. One of those blessings is that it used to be home for a wonderful collection of homeless people. One of Br. William Brown’s stories is that a well dressed homeless lady remarked to him that Santa Barbara has a better class of homeless than other places. She was well dressed because the Salvation Army there is well furnished with the cast offs of the wealthy. She also remarked that she was going to spend the winter in Santa Ana, which, I suppose, has an even better class of homeless than Santa Barbara.

Santa Barbara’s collection of homeless people included some men whom I would guess are schizophrenic. Donald was one of them. Donald had gotten know Mt. Calvary in the late 70’s or early 80’s. When I knew him, he was genuinely incoherent and could not have fitted into the context of a monastic retreat house. Still, he continued to call the guest house office, and his remarks generally had something to do with police cars, helicopters, and moon beams. He was a little scary. I usually got the calls, and for a long time I would say as forcefully as I could, “Donald, don’t you ever call here again” and hang up. One day the secretary, Rachel, said, “Lary, that sounds so bad.” I thought about that. Of course she was right. The next time Donald called I said “God Bless You, Donald.” He said, “Thank you, Father.” Apparently all he really wanted from me was a Blessing. Of course he continued to call, and I continued to say, “God Bless you, Donald.” Donald became a blessing rather than a curse.

I still marvel in God’s mercy to me. Through Rachel I received the grace to hear the voice of God say, “Give blessings not curses.” I wish I could say that from moment I was filled with wisdom and love, and never had to face another collapse. My foundations have had to be replaced and shored up several times. These days I am trying to build on the sure foundation of God’s love.

Today’s psalm, which we did not read, includes one of my favorite verses,

Blessed be the Lord!

for he has shown me the wonders of his love in a besieged city. Psalm 31:21

I am the besieged city. God’s love is the wall that defends my city.