Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
Br. Francis Beckham OHC
The Fifteenth Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 18 A, September 10, 2023
Romans 13:8-14
Matthew 18:15-20
Lectio divina – the slow, deliberate, and prayerful reading of a passage of scripture or other edifying text – is a wonderful thing. You should try it! It’s one of the core practices of Benedictine spirituality. That’s because centuries of experience have taught that through the prayerful engagement of God’s word, the blinders can be pulled back from our eyes (if only momentarily), allowing us to catch a (usually) fleeting glimpse of what the Spirit is continuously inviting us to see. When we’re faithful to our practice of lectio, what was previously hidden is suddenly cast into light; what was troubling before becomes reassuring; and what seemed at first to be utterly baffling and ambiguous begins to become clear, it’s message often shockingly simple yet profound.
For example, one might reasonably ask, “What in the world does God’s instructions about preparing the Passover in Egypt have to do with Jesus promulgating a corrective-action policy in Palestine like some sort of messianic HR director?” I’ll admit that, during my first pass with today’s readings, I found myself wondering if the lectionary committee hadn’t mixed its metaphors. But if I’ve learned anything since becoming a monk (and this very well could be the only thing), it’s that it’s precisely when things seem to make the least sense that I need to pay the most attention. Initial confusion, I have found, is often the signal that there’s something important here, and I’d better take notice. Thusly did I commence lectio with our accounts from Exodus and Matthew, invoking the guidance of the Holy Spirit and, as always, the Spirit came through.
In fact, within a surprisingly brief span of time, I began to see that a common thread running through our readings today is the simple – yet immutable – message that in God’s vision for the world, we are all in this together. We always have been, and we always will be. The human experience is a group assignment. We pass or fail together. The choice of whether to follow the path that leads to life is ours. It always has been, and it always will be.
In the story read to us from Exodus, God makes this point to the Israelites in no uncertain terms. From the sober, urgent tone of the passage we immediately understand that this is no time for going it alone. Something serious and unprecedented is about to happen, and anyone who does not carefully adhere to the instructions being given for the Passover will be doomed. They will be seen by God as being literally outside of the community, counted as one of Pharaoh’s. And even those wishing to carry out God’s instructions must do so carefully. Indeed, many will have no choice but to band together. Households too small to consume an entire lamb in one night must join forces with another. Whatever differences people have – whatever disagreements, rivalries, or grudges – will have to be laid aside in the name of survival. And God doesn’t intend for this teamwork exercise to be a one-off event. God tells the people, “This day shall be a day of remembrance for you. You shall celebrate it as a festival to the LORD; throughout your generations you shall observe it as a perpetual ordinance.”
In other words, God is telling the people they can’t cooperate and get along for just this one meal and call it a night. This is how God expects them to take care of one another forever.
Jumping ahead quite a few centuries, we find ourselves in Matthew’s Gospel. To be more precise, we find ourselves in what those who know a lot about these things call the “fourth discourse,” the section of Matthew dealing with Jesus’ expectations for the Church. In the passages immediately preceding and including today’s gospel reading, Jesus explains how God’s vision of unity is to be carried forth into the kingdom – a point of order that would have been very clear to Matthew’s Jewish audience.
Beginning a few verses back, Jesus has just told the disciples that to enter the kingdom of heaven, they must first humble themselves, embracing faith as openly and fully as small children do. That is to say, whenever any of us thinks we’re better or holier than anyone else, we’re actually resisting God’s unifying vision by telling ourselves that we know what’s best and can do it better on our own. This wouldn’t have worked well in Egypt, and it doesn’t work any better today.
Jesus then cautions against putting stumbling blocks in the way of anyone desiring to join in the Way and follow him. That is to say, Jesus is trusting us to make room for all who are seeking Truth, and not to turn anyone away or make them feel unwelcomed.
Then Jesus tells the disciples that if one lost sheep from a flock of one hundred is found, there will be more rejoicing over that one than over the ninety-nine who never left, and that such is the will of God that no one should ever be lost or excluded. That is to say, whenever anyone is left out, it is our sacred responsibility to approach them and make them know how much they are valued and missed.
And this brings us to the passage we heard today, where Jesus outlines how we should be present to those who are struggling in the Church – which, frankly, is every one of us at some point or another. First, Jesus makes clear that each of us must be willing and ready to be personally available, to see through the defenses someone may be putting up in order to mask pain, fear, grief, guilt, trauma, or who-knows-what, and simply to try to love them and make them feel seen and heard right where they are in that moment. That is to say, by virtue of our baptism, we are perpetually on-call to be the understanding gaze, the gentle voice, and – most important – the listening ears of Christ.
Sometimes we’ll need help in doing this. God may place us in situations where our role is to be a first responder of grace rather than the person who can definitively “fix the problem,” and in these times we look to the gifts and expertise of others to help in a more comprehensive way than we are capable of on our own. God’s vision as expressed in Exodus and reinforced here in Matthew should serve as a reminder that we must always be careful not to inadvertently worsen a situation by trying to go it alone. That is to say, whenever two, three, or more come together in Jesus’ name out of genuine love and concern for others, it is none other than Christ’s own lovingly transformative presence that we experience.
But what if a personal conversation or even a wider show of support aren’t enough? It is here that Jesus goes on to tell us that it may be time for the Church to exercise its healing ministry a bit more explicitly. This may include offering the sacraments of anointing and reconciliation (or confession). Depending on the circumstances, it may well require clergy and lay leadership to consider what role the institutional structures of the Church may have played in causing or exacerbating the problem. That is to say, we must never consider ourselves detached from the struggles of anyone, because we are all members of the same Body of Christ.
And of course, as many of us have personally experienced, there are times when the most effective way of beginning to deal with our struggles seems to be simply breaking out and walking around the block by ourselves a few times. Jesus understands this, telling the disciples to let them be to them as Gentiles or tax-collectors. That is to say, sometimes we just need to give people their space, ready to be there for them in their own good time.
But being as a Gentile or a tax-collector isn’t the same as being as one of Pharaohs. As Jesus himself tells us, even tax-collectors can – and do – enter the kingdom of heaven. After all, God’s vision for the world is that none of us should ever be lost, excluded, or alone, but rather seen, accepted, and loved for who we are, right where we are. That is to say, we are all in this together – just like we always have been, and we always will be.
May peace and all that is good be with each of us and those we love today and always. Amen.
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