Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
Br. Scott Borden, OHC
RCL - Epiphany 7A - February 20, 2011
Leviticus 19:1-2,9-18
1 Corinthians 3:10-11,16-23
Matthew 5:38-48
Today we find Jesus in Matthew's Gospel in a rather contrary mood... We have heard one thing, but Jesus is here to tell us something different... This section of Matthew begins with Jesus saying “do not think that I have come to abolish the Law...” and then sharing a series of 6 antithetical reflections: You have heard it said do not murder, but I say don't even think about it... You have heard it said do not commit adultery, but I say... and so on.
On a purely superficial level, it appears that Jesus, true to his word, is not doing away with the law, but is, rather, delivering a new type of “hyper-law” - far more demanding than that old law ever was. Under this new notion of law, even poor Jimmy Carter had to cast himself an adulterer... I dare say, none of us are safe.
And so we come to today's reading of the good news... You have heard it said an eye for an eye, but I say if someone strikes you on the right cheek, offer them the other cheek as well. If they want your coat, give them your cloak as well. If they demand one mile, go two...
There is a major shift in the nature of Jesus' antithetical offerings. But I'm not sure they are getting any better... I'm almost certainly going to end up an adulterer and a murderer... now I have to be ready to be beaten up and stripped naked... Dale Carnegie would have a few things to say about this approach that Jesus is taking to winning friends and influencing people...
What on earth is Jesus up to? What can we do to make sense of these teachings?
Jesus may not have come to abolish the law, but Jesus is no lover of the status quo.
The law, in faithful Jewish observance, was as lofty as you could get. Knowing the law, loving the law, following the law was as devout and Godly as you could be. There was no greater love of God then a profound and careful observance of the law.
And along comes Jesus saying, essentially, that the law is far from the highest ideal – it is the lowest common denominator... it is the absolute bare minimum... Jesus is demanding something much more complete than adherence to the law.
Look how provocative Jesus is being: Every antithesis begins “You have heard it said...” That's shorthand for you have heard it said in holy scripture: If Jesus were to begin his challenges with “The Bible says one thing, but I say something else” just imagine the discomfort he could generate in a good “Bible-believing” Sunday congregation church...
I think that is just exactly what Jesus wants to do. He is creating maximum discomfort among the maximally pious crowd. Jesus is preaching to the choir, as it were, but the sermon is not the desired message.
In a sense, what Jesus is saying is “I haven't come to end the law – but I have come to end the way you think about the law... the way you live the law.”
Just in case we've forgotten what is at the heart of the law, the Lectionary gives us this wonderful passage from Leviticus: You shall not defraud, you shall not slander, you shall not hate in your heart any of your kin... you shall not take vengeance, but you shall love your neighbor as yourself. That is the law and it is surely beautiful.
And along comes Jesus: You have heard it said you shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy – but I say love your enemies and pray for your persecutors...
Jesus makes an interesting leap in this statement. Scripture, in Jesus time, was the Hebrew scripture we know as Old Testament. And none of Jesus' listeners would, in fact, have heard from Hebrew scripture that they were to hate their enemies – Hebrew scripture does not have any such command. To be sure, Hebrew scripture talks about God hating the unrighteous, but the faithful are not called to hate. Jesus knows that.
I have to wonder if it was the case at Jesus time, just as it is today, that some folks are very certain about what is in the bible, and they are just as certainly wrong.
I suspect, for example, a lot of good and faithful Christians would not flinch if I made the following statement: “The Bible says love the sinner, but hate the sin...” It's a phrase that probably traces its roots to St Augustine, but not to scripture. Yet its freely bandied about in religious circles and so it “sounds” plausible. Or if I asserted that “The Bible tells us that God helps those who help themselves.” Such an assertion might draw little protest from many a congregation – though the quote actually has its roots in Aesop's Fables, not in scripture... In scripture, God helps those who have no other help.
Is Jesus messing with the devout? You have heard it said... hate your enemies. We all have probably heard that said, or something close to it, but Jesus is quoting something other than proper Jewish tradition – and I think that may be part of his purpose. Some of what we take for law is just not, as we learn in Porgy and Bess, necessarily so...
Jesus may be working to rattle some of our assumptions, but that is incidental. The real purpose seems to be rattle our conclusions. The real effect is to change our way of life.
In this Epiphanytide, we have been preparing for the Gospel with a fragment of a hymn by Ephrem of Syria. The hymn reflects on the way in which incarnation speaks of God's grace. Incarnation doesn't speak of God's glory – for there isn't anything particularly glorious about being born a fragile, human child. It doesn't speak of God's might, for it is a powerless act. It doesn't speak of God's infinite nature, for it is very finite. But it does speak endlessly of God's grace.
And that is what I find in today's Gospel. Jesus, fully human, calling us to be more fully human... calling us to be more filled with God's grace. Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.
The reading ends with an ominous sounding instruction: Be perfect, as God in heaven is perfect. Using the word “perfect” is a bit jarring. In this entire Gospel passage Jesus has rather firmly established human imperfection. If we have thought about murder or adultery, then we are the same as murderers and adulterers... so where is this idea of being perfect coming from?
If perfect means a spotless living of the law, then we are doomed.
But perfect has a second meaning – a richer and more complex meaning... the meaning of wholeness or completeness.
We use the word in this way these days normally in a negative context – we talk about a perfect idiot, or a perfect disaster, or a perfect storm, for example. But you get the idea.
This is what Jesus is talking about – Jesus is calling us to be wholehearted, complete, and total in our love of God and, at the same time, our love of God's creation, most especially of our fellow human beings.
This idea of perfection is a process more than a destination. After all, a perfect idiot is perfect because he keeps getting better at it... he is improving the process of being an idiot...
Now doesn't that give us something to aspire to...
Jesus cuts right to the heart of what it is to be a follower, of what it is to be faithful. We must be prepared to change how we understand our tradition. We must be prepared to change the way we respond to others by being ever more willing to respond in a way of sacrifice and love. The way to a deeper and more loving relationship with God is through a deeper and more loving relationship with our brothers and sisters – realizing that everyone is included in that category of brothers and sisters...
Jesus has liberated us from a human ideal of perfectionism and replaced it with the Godly ideal of perfect wholeness. And so let us be perfect.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Monday, February 14, 2011
Epiphany 6A - February 13, 2011
Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
Br. Adam McCoy, OHC
Br. Adam McCoy, OHC
From today’s Gospel: “But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lust has already committed adultery with her in his heart.” What were the people who put together the lectionary thinking, placing this Gospel so it would always occur near the 14th of February? Happy Valentine’s Day!
Today’s Gospel does raise the question: Just exactly what is the good news here? The awfulness of families and fellowships fighting with each other? The vicious consequences of lust? The nastiness of divorce? The ugliness of false speaking? The people evoked in Jesus’ discourse this morning are too close to people we know, and perhaps too close to ourselves, for comfort. And his judgment is so harsh! The council; the hell of fire; fines that wring the last penny out of us. Bodily dismemberment. Words leading us into the power of the devil. Strong stuff. And all that in the Sermon on the Mount, just verses away from Blessed are the poor in spirit! How can we take away some nourishment from this stew of conflict and vice?
I think the first two readings today give us some help. They give us a couple of lenses with which to view today’s Gospel.
In the lesson from Deuteronomy Moses addresses the famously difficult Israelites as they are preparing to enter the Promised Land. He wants them to understand that what they are undertaking as they cross the Jordan is not simply entering into another phase of Life As Usual, but into a new relationship with God. God is not evicting the people already in the land of Canaan just to give his people a cushy new home, where they will not have to work hard or be anxious, with all that milk and honey flowing on every side. They are not the spoiled children of a nouveau riche father who wants them not to have to go through all the hardships of life. Rather, they are being shown the way to something new and wonderful, but also to something quite rigorous and demanding. The Law is the path to life for them, and they must choose it and keep it in order to be worthy of the gift he has prepared for them. Life with God involves making the right choice: “I call heaven and earth to witness against you today that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Choose life so that you and your descendants may live.” Our first lens is making the right choice.
In our second lesson St. Paul addresses the famously difficult Corinthians. He says, in effect, that they need to grow up. If the Israelites of Moses’ day have a tendency to self-indulgence and forgetfulness, the Corinthians are known for their jealousies and their quarrels. They apparently have not learned very much about the Gospel, even though they have had the best possible teacher. They are still operating by the standards of the secular world, what Paul calls the flesh. They have been prepared: Paul planted and Apollos watered. But Paul and Apollos want to see some growth. Which only God can give. Paul is impatient. It’s not hard to tell how impatient he is. “I fed you with milk, not solid food, for you were not ready for solid food. Even now you are still not ready”, he says, and you can hear the sarcasm. When will these people grow up, already? Our second lens is growing up, becoming adults.
These passages teach us that we are to come to an understanding of who we really are: Not spoiled children of an indulgent god who has adopted us to give us a free ride, but chosen witnesses to God’s righteousness, shown by the choices we make in our lives. Not infants satisfied with spiritual pabulum, still being fed milk, dependent and unaware and self-centered like babies, but grownups ready for God’s truth, for the adult faith of a God who respects human life so much that he lived it and died it himself. God wants us to takes responsibility for ourselves, which means making the right choices. God wants us to grow up, which means leaving childish behavior behind and thinking and acting like adults.
Which brings us back to this morning’s Gospel, in which Jesus addresses the famously difficult ...... us, since we have been included in the audience of the Sermon on the Mount. This is a proclamation for grownups, for grownups who have the capacity to make the right choices. Jesus says, in effect, Have integrity, because some actions in life are so serious that they can permanently harm you, or even ruin you. And he gives four concrete, and quite painful, examples from daily life.
Conflict has consequences. Violence does not begin when blows are exchanged, but long before, when we despise each other, when we say hurtful words. And it is not enough to paper over the damage with apologies. We need to get back behind our pride, to be willing to take the first step toward reconciliation, as humbling as that may be. Not to do so can cost us everything in the end.
Sexual transgressions, adultery, violating someone else, destroying our own committed relationships by unfaithfulness, do not begin with the sexual act. That act began when we allowed desire to grow into thought, and thought into intention. What begins as an illicit but also rather pleasant and tempting idea can grow until in our delusion we act on it and that act destroys everything in its path. In his hyperbolic way Jesus envisions the totality which such a disaster can wreak in our lives and seeks the most graphic image of that damage: The destruction of the body itself. Better to cut these thoughts off at their beginning than to suffer the consequences of acting on them.
In Jewish culture at the time of Jesus, men could divorce their wives pretty easily, and apparently did. But Jesus calls those men on the carpet and lays out the consequence: Breaking that sacred relationship exposes your wife to social shame and ostracism. It can ruin her life. Just because you can do it does not mean you should. That action can destroy your wife. The question we might ask of ourselves today is, I think, not just about divorce in the strict sense, but also about power. Who has the right to ruin someone else’s life? When a person who has power harms a person who does not, is he (or she) not responsible for what happens to the one who has been harmed?
Why do you need to make grandiose claims for your promises? Is it because your own word is not sufficient? In the ancient world in general, and in this Israel was no different from any other ancient culture, you backed up your words with oaths by invoking whatever was most sacred, with the general idea that the divine power would enforce their intention, at your expense, if you failed to live up to what you promised. But Jesus asks, What is wrong with your own word? Should you not be trustworthy in and of yourself? Why do you need to drag heaven or earth or Jerusalem or your own head to witness for you? Is it because your plain word is really not worth anything by itself? Isn’t that your problem? Be a person of integrity and you don’t need extravagant oaths. Say yes or no and mean it.
Live in harmony with the people in your life. Don’t take advantage of other people because of what you want. Remember the consequences of hurting people less powerful than yourself and don’t do it. Be a person of integrity.
Make the right choices. Be an adult.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Epiphany 3A - January 23, 2011
Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
Br. Charles Mizelle, n/OHC
RCL - Epiphany 3A - January 23, 2011
Isaiah 9:1-4
1 Corinthians 1:10-18
Matthew 4:12-23
Just An "Ordinary" Sermon
In the name of God who calls us to celebration, who calls us to pursue community in our world, and who calls us to compassion in the midst of all human suffering. Amen!
I’m finding Epiphany to be a rather complicated season. It’s about 3 Kings (who weren’t actual Kings) following a star (that astronomers have never identified and don’t think actually existed) showing up with some not-so-practical-gifts (I can hear Mary now saying I’ve got a newborn here, couldn’t you have brought diapers? what am I to do with frankincense?). But the complication with Epiphany is that it is layered and complex. Epiphany is also the celebration and observance of the Baptism of Christ AND it is when we commemorate Christ first miracle at the start of His earthly ministry: the wedding feast at Cana and the turning of water into wine. Three very significant events in salvation history, spanning 30 years of the life of Christ, three events that really don’t seem to have much of a link.
And today we name this Sunday the “Third Sunday of Epiphany”. But in reality what that really means is that we are in the third Sunday of Ordinary Time. Ordinary Time is that time of year when the Church is neither preparing for or celebrating Christmas or Easter. In Advent we prepare for Christmas and in Christmas we celebrate God-With-Us in the Incarnation. In Lent we prepare ourselves for Holy Week and going through it we emerge in Easter, celebrating the resurrection of Christ life in us. In a way we define Ordinary Time by what it is not: it is not Advent or Christmas or Lent or Easter. It is not therefore, the time when the Church is directly engaged with the preparations and celebrations of the birth, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ.
Now we protestants want to turn Epiphany into a season. We have Christmas-tide and we have Easter-tide. But the idea of Epiphany-tide just never caught on. Some theologians want to elevate Epiphany to a greater feast than Christmas. After all it is when we come to understand the Incarnation as an event of God coming for all humankind, Jew and Gentile alike. But the decorations are gone, the simplicity of our Chapel has returned and we wear green to mark that this really is just ordinary time.
In addition to defining Ordinary Time by what it is not we can just as well define it by what it is: it is the season that makes up over half of our Church year—up to 34 weeks each year. It is the time, just like Peter and Andrew in today’s Gospel reading from Matthew, where we are called to follow Jesus. It is the time we take the birth, death and resurrection of Christ and live fully into its reality in the here and now of our daily lives. It is a time of being formed in Christ. It is a time of formation and conversion. It is a time of living into God’s call on our lives. It is a time when we take our Incarnation and Resurrection celebrations and work to make a difference in the world. It is also a time of repentance.
Repentance—now there’s a word we really don’t like. Actually its a word we can’t stand. What an inconvenient time for Jesus to say to us “repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near”? Doesn’t Jesus know that the idea of repentance makes us uncomfortable and this is no place to begin a new work? Starting here is a sign of sure failure. Wouldn’t it had been a wiser choice for Christ to begin by telling us God is love? And how can we call this ordinary time if we are going to kick it off in such a non-affirming way by saying we need to repent?
It is no liturgical accident that after Christmas and Epiphany and before Lent and Easter that Jesus tells us to repent and follow Him. And for the next four plus weeks we will be hearing Jesus preach from The Mount where He will unpack for us just what the Christian life is and if we choose, how we will be converted by it. It is also no accident that it is in these weeks of Ordinary Time where we loose so many would-be followers of Christ. We’ve all seen it. The pews are packed out for Christmas and Easter services. It is a joyous time of celebration, we even get new outfits to mark the occasions. But after the feast are over and we are back to our green season of Ordinary Time, where are all those people?
When the reality of the Christian life sets in and we start talking about things like repentance, following Christ, changing the way we live, being formed to become more like Christ the crowds thin out. If you pay attention when you read through the Gospel narratives you’ll see the same dynamic at work during Christ earthly ministry. When the wine was flowing and people were getting fed and healed the throngs were magnificent. But when Christ started talking about changing your ways, doing justice, changing your heart, and putting your money where your faith is, those throngs became a small handful of people. Later we’ll even see that Peter, the very one called to follow Christ in today’s Gospel ends up denying Christ 3 times when it meant his own life would be put on the line.
When it comes to all things Christians are known for talking about the concept of sin and repentance is so highly charged it is like stepping into a field of land mines and IED’s. Quite frankly it’s toxic to bring up the idea of repentance in almost any context. In our post-modern, post-critical, even post-christian world we have gone out of our way to extricate repentance from both our religious practice and our moral culture. I have a friend who refuses to sing the great hymn Amazing Grace. She said to me in no uncertain words one day “I’m not a wretch saved by grace! I’m not a wretch at all and I won’t sing those words!”
It is absolutely true that the more than 100 references in scripture about repentance have been used to clobber those we dislike and to brow-beat those we judge. There is an entire genre of preaching that is about delivering the bad news before you give the good news. And in order to gain entrance into their church fold one must sufficiently prove an experiential encounter with Christ that is heavy laden with repentance. It all reminds me of the adage I overheard a Brother saying “We haven’t seen a good smiting in quite some time now”.
Jesus was completely sensitive to this. And when He says “repent” He is neither brow-beating us nor judging us. We are just so hyper-reactive to hearing the word repentance that it stops us from being able to hear the rest of His statement: “for the kingdom of heaven has come near”. Jesus is saying I have something better, I have that which will last, I can give you true peace and joy and fulfillment, real happiness. Jesus is saying you don’t have to die to go to heaven. It is near right now. And you can have it in this life if you want it. But Christ is actually saying something even deeper. He is answering the eternal question of what is real, what is it all about, where can we find truth. And what is His answer. Turn around and enter God’s Kingdom.
The word for repent in Greek is metanoia and it means to think differently, to turn around, to change the direction in which you are going. Fr. Thomas Keating says that what Jesus is really doing is inviting us to change the direction in which we are looking for our happiness. From the moment we are born our psyche is hard wired to seek fulfillment of our needs and desires. Security, affection and control dominate our endless search for fulfillment. The predicament of the human condition is that it doesn’t take very long for us to make a mess of our lives in how we go about seeking security, affection and control. As soon as we think we are secure circumstances change and we become very insecure. The affection and love we long for is never completely satisfied. And for being in control...forget it...no matter how much you think you are in control life’s taskmaster will be there to show you’re not in control and you never were in control.
Those who seek power to gain security, affection and control only find they never have enough power. Those who seek wealth to gain security, affection and control live in fear of never having enough. Those who claw their way to the top of the corporate ladder are never satisfied with the view from the top. Framing the act of repentance as letting go of our endless need for more, doing an about face in what we hold important, changing the direction in how we look for happiness and fulfillment is much more than a new age recast of old fashioned religion.
Repentance is answering Christ’s call to conversion that you don’t need the latest gadget but that the local food pantry needs your time and resources. Repentance is answering Christ’s call to conversion that instead of clawing your way up the corporate ladder you’ll claw your way down to the local prison and befriend someone who has never known what it means to have someone else truly care about them. Repentance is learning you can live on less so you can help relieve the suffering of those who go without.
Last week I heard Christ call to repentance in an unexpected moment. As an introduction for a presenter/speaker at the Trinity Institute Theological Conference a short video was shown. The video profiled a community in Nigeria that quite frankly looked poorer than poor. No paved roads, shabby buildings, classrooms poorly outfitted, poorly lit. Plain tattered clothes and cars so old I would have a hard time trusting them. But as poor as they were in “things” and commodities they were rich in joy, love, happiness. They weren’t just smiling for the camera but their joy they knew deep within simply shone through. When I noted this juxtaposition between the wealth of America and the seeming lack of Nigeria another person correctly noted that they are sad for us. They are sad that we have so much yet lack real happiness and fulfillment. They are sad for us over our complicated, frantic and unsatisfied lives. Little did I know that a simple film, profiling a village in Nigeria would be Christ whisper to me for repentance in simplicity and a return to what is really important.
I grew up in a faith tradition that preached a lot on repentance and always offered an altar call as an opportunity for one to change their ways. My step-father, a very prominent Baptist preacher, loved to goad me about my “strange Episcopal ways”. One day the goading was why we Episcopalians never have an altar call. I must have tired of the teasing because after a moment of silence I just looked at him and said “you know, we Episcopalians have more altar calls than the Baptist”. “No you don’t” he replied. I said “yes we do!”.
Then I explained to him that every time we come together to celebrate the Eucharist we have an altar call. It is a time were we make a decision to follow Christ. We physically walk in an new direction. It is an act of metanoia, of turning around and going in a new direction. The very act of partaking of the Body and Blood of Christ is an act of opening ourselves to the Holy Spirit and entering a process of conversion.
That was the last time he teased me about altar calls. But you know its true that in a few moments when we gather around this altar behind me we will be yielding the Christ’s call to turn and go in a new direction for our happiness and fulfillment. It is even an act of turning over our needs of security, affection and control and letting it go. It is our acknowledgement that this Sunday is no ordinary time at all.
Amen
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