Good Friday: Mary at the foot of the cross

 ^{Good Friday Reflection                                                                                                                               April 14, 2017}

            They told me not to come.  They said it would only make it harder….as if staying home while my son hung on a cross would be anything less than torture---no matter where I was.  Since he was making this sacrifice for a world of people who had spat on him, betrayed him, abandoned him, mocked him, ignored him, and now slowly killed him… well then it seems to me that I can make this sacrifice for him.  I can sit at the foot of the cross as my son slowly dies.  I can do that at least. 

            I am so close I can smell his sweat.  That smell brings me a strange comfort.  It is as familiar to me as my own sweat.  I smelled it after he came inside after running around with his friends and lay down with me at the hottest part of the day, when all you could do was rest.  I smelled it as he worked with his father on various projects.  I know that smell as well as I knew his voice and his face. 

            As soon as he started this crazy journey…trying to help people understand and know God, understand and know him---as soon as he started that, I have been spending more time with him.  Sometimes I have stood at a distance as he has taught. Sometimes I just watched him sleep.  I don’t ever want to forget his face.  When I watched him sleep, I would remember who he was as a child, that sweet baby I held in my arms so many years ago.  It feels as though  thousands of years have passed since he was born. But now that sweat is mixed with a different smell.  Blood. 

            That combination of blood and sweat reminded me of another time years ago when I lay on the floor in a room of hay with animals walking in and out. Joseph pacing by my side, trying to be helpful. Blood. Sweat. I was there at his birth and I will be there when he dies. I will stay. 

            I look up and I can see him looking at the soldiers as they divide his clothing.  It makes me angry.  He just looks sad.  Sad and tired.  Then he turns to me and his eyes meet mine.  A fresh pain courses through my body.  I did not think the pain could get worse, but it does.  I am reminded of that time when he was just 8 days old. Joseph and I were so happy. We had been through so much but now we had this beautiful boy.  We went to the temple with our small sacrifice of 2 pigeons.  We offered this sacrifice to the Lord.  As we prepared to leave an old man approached us. While he was old and walked with difficulty, his face emanated joy. 

            He came and took Jesus out of my arms.  At first I was afraid he was going to take him from me, but then he spoke and I knew there was something special about this man.  He said something about seeing salvation and how Jesus, our baby, would be a light for all people.   He then blessed us all and said something I will never forget. “This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed—and a sword will pierce your own soul too.”

            It did not make sense to me then.  How could he be a light to all nations, but also be hated and opposed?  Why would my soul be pierced? I had listened to God.  I had said yes when he made that crazy request of giving birth to a baby who was to be the Son of God.  I said yes.  Why would my soul be pierced?  But I understand now.  I understand what it is to have your soul pierced.  I felt it long before this moment.  I felt it when the people tried to stone him because he said things that were contrary to what everyone believed, when he disagreed with the great religious leaders and even the Romans.  I begged him to stop, stop causing a stir.  There had to be a better way.  He did not listen. He just gave me that look.  I felt my soul pierced again when he was arrested, then again when the crowd shouted, “Crucify him.” I felt it over and over again.  Now, it was complete.  My soul was in pieces.  There was nothing left to pierce. 

            There is that look again.  He looks into my eyes.  I expect to see pain, maybe even anger.  But as I search his eyes, I see something else.  I see love. Though it must be so painful to speak he says, “Woman, here is your son.”  Then he looks at John, the only one who is here with me and says, “Here is your mother.”  Even at this horrible moment, he is still trying to take care of us.  Now is says that he is thirsty and I want to bring him something, but they will not let me. He looks at me one last time and then looks at the sky as if searching for something.  We all look up as well.  I don’t see a thing.  I hear a gasp and I get up so I can be just a little closer.  He says, “It is finished.” And it is.

            I fall into the arms of John and we weep together.  We stay until they take his body from the cross. They let me hold him one last time.  While my grief feels overwhelming, more memories started to flood in while I hold him.  I remember the people who followed him.  I remember the people he cured and how they looked at him. He turned water into wine. He opened the eyes of the blind. He even brought a man back to death. 

            Then I hear his voice so clearly I think he must still be alive, but he remains limp in my arms.  I hear him say, “‘A little while, and you will no longer see me, and again a little while, and you will see me’?  You will weep and mourn, but the world will rejoice; you will have pain, but your pain will turn into joy.”  He was always saying things like that…things that no one really understood.  But those words come to me now with renewed clarity.  Maybe my pain will turn into joy. My pain will turn to joy.  I say that over and over as I watch them carry my boy away. 

 

When God's People are Displaced: April 2, 2017

Year A, Lent 5                                                    
Ezekiel 37:1-14                                                                      

 

            Recently I came across several articles regarding the efforts in Iraq to regain cities that were lost to ISIS.  For so long, the news about the fight against ISIS had been all about their power and progress.  It appeared hopeless.  No one seemed to know how to fight these extremists who represented no country and operated with no moral code whatsoever.  Yet recently, there are indications that they are being driven out bit by bit, mile by mile.  People are returning to the towns that ISIS had control over.  There was one article about a town called Bartella, which is not too far from Mosul.   Bartella is one of the oldest Christian towns in the world.  Thousands were forced out after ISIS came in.  It was over 2 years before the town was reclaimed by American and Iraqi soldiers.   In the article I read, some of the displaced people said that they planned to return, but many were afraid to do so.  Many were worried that there was nothing to return to.  They were afraid that ISIS would regain control or some other extremist group.[1]

The people or Bartella were forced out of their homes for a little over two years.  It’s a long time to be displaced, especially when you don’t know if you will ever return to your home, or if there will be a home to return to.  The people of Israel were exiled for over 50 years…more than a generation.  That 50 years is known as the Babylonian Exile and is a defining moment in Jewish history. To put it in context, it was approximately 500 years before Jesus was born.  

The Book of Ezekiel begins with the prophet warning people of what was to come. There was a great deal of judgment and anger.  By the time we get to chapter 37, which is where our Old Testament reading for today comes from, Jerusalem had been destroyed and most of the people were forced to leave their home and live in another land.  Ezekiel was one of those displaced people.  He was there with the others in Babylon.   While he was a little hard on them before the exile, his tone shifted after the exile.  They didn’t need judgment anymore.  What they needed was hope. 

You see it wasn’t just that they had been defeated.  It wasn’t just that they had been forced from their homes.  It wasn’t just that they had seen so many of their people die in battle.  Any of those things would be enough to leave a person in despair.  Yet for the Hebrew people, it was that much worse because they were away from their spiritual home.  For the Hebrew people, God was in the temple in Jerusalem.  That was where God lived.  What did it mean that the temple was destroyed?  How could they worship God when they were no longer near him?  They felt as though they were completely cut off from God. Even though they were no longer fighting a bloody war… even though they were not living in this valley of bones, they might as well have been.  Their home was destroyed.  Their God had abandoned them.  Hope was buried under the rubble that was once their home. 

God knew what the people were feeling. He knew their grief.  Thus, he gave Ezekiel a remarkable vision to share with these displaced people. In this vision, God brought Ezekiel to this valley of bones and he showed him how to bring life back to these bones. As you heard in the reading, the rubble of bones became people of flesh and blood and even breath.  There was new life in the valley.  After showing Ezekiel this, the Lord said to him, “Mortal, these bones are the whole house of Israel. They say, ‘Our bones are dried up, and our hope is lost; we are cut off completely.’  God told Ezekiel who these bones represented and what the vision was in response to. 

The Psalms have all kinds of prayers of people who were living through the Babylonian Exile.  In these Psalms, the people who were crying out often referred to their bones.  In many ways, references to bones, is like a reference to our deepest self.[2]  We still use phrases like, “I can feel it in my bones.” Or. “I’m bone tired.” It’s almost like referring to our core or our essence, much like it was in the time that Ezekiel was writing. 

When the people said, “Our bones are dried up, and our hope is lost…” God took that dreadful image of bones piled up and he transformed that image. God showed how these bones could have life.  It was/is a way to show that hope is not lost…not as long as you have the breath of God.  Because that is what made the difference. Ezekiel said, “I prophesied as he commanded me, and the breath came into them, and they lived, and stood on their feet, a vast multitude.”  It was the breath of God, the Spirit of God that allowed them to live, that gave them the power to stand together.

It is important to note that they stood together.  When these bones came to life, it wasn’t just a couple of them.  It was this whole community, the multitude.  It had to be because it was the whole community who had been exiled.  It was not enough for one of them to have hope.  They all needed to be inspired.  They all needed this breath of God.  It was the only way they would find the strength they needed. The people of Israel were exiled for a long time, but eventually they returned to their beloved city of Jerusalem.  Much as they feared, their city was in ruins.  There was no temple. There were no homes to return to.  Once again, they had to find a way to bring life to a place that seemed to be lifeless.  They had to do it together.

The town of Bartella in Iraq was liberated in October of 2016. That Christmas, about 200 people returned to the town to celebrate Christmas Eve in their church.  For most, it was the first time they had returned to their home.  While it was uplifting to celebrate that holy day in their sacred space, their church, they were surrounded by rubble. The church had to be guarded by snipers so they could celebrate in relative safety.  Many said that while it was nice to have this experience and good to be back home, they would not be returning for good because it was not safe.  They could not take that risk.  Yet one woman who was interviewed said, “Daesh (ISIS) came to kill the soul. But they couldn’t. They killed the body. We are back now.”[3]  ISIS thought they could take the life from the town, from the people.  They thought that they had left only rubble and bones.  But there was still life there.  The breath of God remained with the people of God.  When the soldiers reclaimed that city, one of the first things they did was to go to the church and ring the church bells. 

Christmas Eve Bartella

Both the people of Israel, the people in Iraq, and people everywhere who have been forced to flee from their homes, they survive on hope…a hope that God will continue to breathe life into them and a hope that when God does breathe that life into them, there will be a community to stand with them.

After the Civil War, the St. John’s community returned to find their homes and their church in rubble.  Yet they found a way to rebuild, to survive so that we could worship here today. They did not do it alone. They did it with the help of people from around the state, even the country.  That is what we are called to do as Christians, to help others rebuild, to be the breath of God for communities and people who have lost hope. I will be honest.  I am not sure how. Ezekiel had a wonderful vision that changed him and helped him inspire others.  But he had to first be open to that vision and then act on that vision.  I suppose that is the first step for all of us, a willingness to envision the world transformed….and to see ourselves as the agents of that transformation.

                                                                                                                                                                             

---

[1] http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/2016/10/22/near-mosul-church-bells-ring-out-in-a-christian-town-freed-from/

[2] https://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=39

[3] http://www.latimes.com/world/middleeast/la-fg-iraq-christmas-20161224-story.html (above picture is from this site)

No Shame: March 19, 2017

Year A, Lent 3                                                                                   
John 4:5-42                                                                            

            Usually when someone says, “I know what you did” or “I know all about you” it’s not a good thing.  It’s a threat or an attempt to induce guilt or shame.  Thus it has always confused me that this woman at the well went and told the whole town, “Come and see a man who told me everything I have ever done. He cannot be the Messiah, can he?” Why would that be the thing that proved he was the Messiah? Furthermore, why was she so excited about it?

            This Gospel reading is a long one and that is because it was a long conversation.  In fact, it is one of the longest conversations Jesus had that is recorded in the Bible and it was with a Samaritan woman who was alone.  That is three strikes against her already.  Let’s begin with the fact that she was a Samaritan.  To say that the Samaritans and the Jews did not get along well would be like saying the people of Israel and the Palestinians don’t get along.  It’s a huge understatement.  This hostility between the Jews and the Samaritans was centuries old. Some of it had to do with what happened in the past and some was related to how and where they worshipped, which was a big deal at that point. 

            The second and third strikes were that she was a woman and she was alone.  Women typically did not travel far without a male to accompany them.  If they were not with a man who was related to them, they were with other women. Most women went to the well in the morning and the evening when the sun was not so high.  This woman was there in the middle of the day, the hottest part of the day.  Many have assumed that she was avoiding people.  Thus there were many reasons Jesus should have avoided this woman.  Jewish men (especially rabbis) were forbidden to speak to a woman alone who was not related to them.  If seen by others, this would have been a scandal.  She knew all of this which is why she asked, “How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria?”  She already knew that this man was different.

            Things got even stranger as Jesus began to engage her in a theological conversation.  He wasn’t just telling her what to do.  He was not merely making a demand. He was forming a relationship with her.  She must have felt relatively safe because she responded and even argued a little, which was a risky move on her part. Then this theological debate took an unexpected turn.  Jesus asked her to call her husband.  When she told him she had no husband, he conceded that she was telling the truth.  He added that she had five husbands and the man she was living with right now was not even her husband. 

For millennia people have interpreted this statement by Jesus as an accusation of sin.  He was confronting her for her sinful behavior. Clearly this woman was a harlot.  She had five husbands and now she was living with someone she was not married to.  No wonder she was there alone in the middle of the day.  She was avoiding people because she was an outcast.  She knew they were talking about her.  She didn’t need to see their critical gaze.  That is one theory anyhow.  In my opinion, it’s wrong. 

In the time of Jesus, women did not have many rights.  A woman could not ask for divorce.  If this woman at the well was divorced five times, it was because five different men divorced her.  Men did not need a reason to divorce.  There was no extensive paperwork.  All they needed to do was to put it in writing.  There was nothing the woman could do to salvage her marriage. Since there were not many occupations available to woman, the only options for a divorced woman was to remarry, move in with a male relative, beg on the street, prostitute herself or starve.  

While a man could divorce his wife for any reason, there was one situation when divorce was recommended.   Because procreation was a so important in the Jewish faith, if a woman could not bear a child in the first ten years of marriage, it was recommended that the man take an additional wife or divorce and then remarry.[1]  It is very possible that the reason she had been abandoned by so many men was due to barrenness. 

Even if the divorces were a result of her being barren and not an adulteress, people would have thought that there was still something fundamentally wrong with her.  She had been abandoned by the men in her life.  She had been abandoned by God.  The respected women and men of the town were almost surely talking about her and judging her.  More than almost anyone, she needed this living water that Jesus was talking about.  She needed this living water because she was barely alive.

Because of her thirst for hope, love and a relationship with God, she was open to Jesus’s words.  She was ready to hear them.  Instead of hearing what most people hear in this conversation (accusation and shame) she heard a man who knew her and wanted to know her more.  He wanted to share the most important thing in the world, his love and acceptance.  He revealed that he knew her story--some of which was shameful to her because she had likely come to believe what others believed about her.  More important than the fact that he revealed what he knew of her, he also revealed a love and compassion for her.  He didn’t care what others said about her. He knew the truth. He knew her heart, before it was corrupted by pain, shame and fear. 

In addition, he also revealed himself, as the Christ—the Messiah. Jesus did not reveal himself to the most important men of the town.  He did not go to the place of worship and announce that he was the Messiah.  No, he went to her, a Samaritan, a woman, a person alone and abandoned.

Thus when she ran and told the whole town of people who had likely ostracized her to: “Come and see a man who told me everything I have ever done.” ---she was saying that she had met someone who truly knew her and saw past the assumptions and stereotypes.  Because this man, this Messiah had reminded her what it was to feel love and hope, she did not care that she was running into the middle of this town of people who had cast her off.  She didn’t care that they considered her a shameful person.  She had known what it was to live a life of shame.  But now she knew the Messiah and he knew her.  And once she knew that, there was no way she could hold it in.  She had to tell the world.

            People have occasionally told me that they don’t feel comfortable in church because they feel judged.  Others tell me that they worry that if people know the truth, they would not respect them and that is something they don’t want to be reminded of. I think the reason so many people fear being part of a community of faith is combination of those things.  I think people---we---have begun to judge ourselves based on what others have assumed. We have started to believe everything this culture is telling us, that we are not enough.  We have forgotten that the truth lies not in the hearts of others, or even our own, but the heart of God.  More than anything, God wants a relationship with us. God wants to know us and be known by us.  There is no room for shame when it comes to our relationship with God.  No shame.

---

[1] Biblical and Jewish law regarding divorce: http://www.jstor.org/stable/3140621?seq=7 and http://www.biu.ac.il/JH/Parasha/eng/toledot/shi.html

Unlimited Mulligans: March 5, 2017

Year A, Lent 1                                                                        
Genesis 2:15-17, 3:1-7                                                                       

            I was a fairly regular church attendee through my youth, college and even after.  However, for some reason, Lent always came as a surprise to me.  I would come to church one Sunday and I would think, “Why is everyone so depressed? Why is the music so sad?” Then I would look at the altar hangings and see the purple, I might notice something in the bulletin and it would click.  Or right…it’s Lent.  How long is Lent again?  Of course Lent was also identified as the time I gave up something which was never particularly fun.  I am afraid that is how many of us think of Lent…oh that again.  In some ways we treat it as this time we have to get through to get to Easter.  The readings don’t help much. They are all about sin and judgment. 

            Let’s start with the first reading, which we are told--is all about the first sin, when sin entered our world.  Here they were, Adam and Eve, sitting in paradise. They had no 9-5 job dragging them down.  The weather was probably perpetually sunny.  They got along all the time.  God was talking to them, caring for them.  They could eat the fruit from any tree….any tree but one.  So of course they had to eat from that one tree.  For millennia people have blamed this transgression on Eve and I have addressed that in other sermons. The blame doesn’t belong on Eve, at least not entirely. 

There is the serpent of course; we could put all the blame there.  He was crafty.  He took God’s words and twisted them. He appealed to human pride.  However, the blame does not rest on any one person or animal and trying to determine who is to blame is at best useless and at worst detrimental to understanding the text. It’s true.  They committed a sin.  God had given them everything and they jeopardized all of that in the hope that they could be more like God, more like the creator than the creature. 

            Thus, they were expelled from the garden, from paradise.  As a result of this expulsion, instead of being more like God, they were further from God.  They could still communicate with God, but it was harder and seemed to get even harder for every generation thereafter, at least until Jesus came.  While God punished Adam and Eve, he let them live.  They still had food.  They had shelter. They had one another and the promise of children.  While there time in paradise ended, they had a new beginning. They had an opportunity to start over.

            Today we began the service with something called an “Invitation to the Observance of a Holy Lent.” This is part of the Ash Wednesday service, but I find it appropriate for the first Sunday of Lent as well.  The last paragraph reads, “I invite you … to the observance of a holy Lent, by self-examination and repentance; by prayer, fasting, and self-denial; and by reading and meditating on God’s holy Word. And, to make a right beginning of repentance…let us now kneel before the Lord, our maker and redeemer.”  Some of those things sound ok.  Self-examination, prayer, reading the Bible…those things are fair expectations of Christians.  But repentance, fasting, self-denial…those things do not sound appealing at all.  Those are the reasons that people do not like Lent. 

            Going through Lent without the repentance, confession and self-examination is kind of like expecting to lose weight by reciting body affirmations but not exercising or eating right.  In order to really transform your body, you have to do the work.  Sometimes that work is miserable, but sometimes, it makes you feel really good.  It’s the same with confession, repentance and self-examination. It’s hard to be honest about yourself.  It is hard to do the work that will make you a better person and a better Christian. It is hard to acknowledge your sins and weaknesses and ask God and others for help.  But all those hard things allow you to become a better person.  Confessing your sins and working hard not to sin again doesn’t just make you a better person, it brings you closer to God.  Even though it seems that you are doing all this work for yourself, you are really doing it for God.   Repentance is not merely the acknowledgment and condemnation of our sins…it is a process of renewal.  It literally means to turn around and reorient ourselves. 

            We don’t know what happened to Adam and Eve after they left the garden.  While they certainly felt guilty for offending God---sinning against God, it is not clear that they repented.   We don’t get the end of the story.  It is not until Jesus comes that we get the rest of the story. In many ways that is why Jesus is often referred to as the new Adam.  He provided the opportunity for humanity to begin again.  While the first humans (Adam and Eve) rejected the limitations of their humanity by trying to be like God, Jesus purposefully took on the limitations of humanity by becoming a human.  By becoming human he not only took on the limitations, he felt the effects of our sins. He had to resist sin and temptation. 

            The story of him in the desert with Satan is dramatic and powerful.  We see Jesus standing up to Satan and refusing to prove his divinity.  However, just because he withstood this temptation in the desert does not mean that he lived a life free of temptation and trials.  Much like us, he was faced with temptation every day.  Every day, he had to do the hard work of resisting sin. While he did not sin, he still experienced the effects of the sins of others.  He went through the agony of betrayal, abandonment and even death on the cross.  Because he went through all of that, he was given an opportunity to start over. His resurrection was a new beginning.  It continues to be a new beginning for us all. 

            It would be helpful if we could find a way to think of Lent not as a dreary time full of sadness and gnashing of teeth, but a new beginning.  I am not a golfer, despite the efforts of my grandparents and father.  However, I am going to attempt a golf analogy.  A mulligan is a free shot you get after you have a really bad shot. It does not count on the scorecard.  It is not a real rule, but is often used in more relaxed settings.  But here is the thing about a mulligan.  You still have to swing again. Someone doesn’t just say, you missed that one, let’s move your ball right next to the hole.  No, you get a chance to start over.  In starting over, it is usually most helpful if you avoid doing what you did the last time.  You want the next shot to be better than the last. 

In golf, you usually only get one mulligan per game.  However, in our Christian journey, we get many opportunities to start over without any penalty.  In our invitation to the observance of a Holy Lent, the last line calls us to kneel before our maker and redeemer.  Our maker and redeemer.  Lent is our opportunity to be made a new, to be redeemed by a God who loves us and cares for us.  It’s true.  We still have to do the work and that is not always fun.  But the end…the end is forgiveness, redemption and a new beginning.  That is not something that should make life dreary.  That is a cause for joy.

Cause a Scene: February 18, 2017

Year A, Epiphany 7                                                                 
Matthew 5:38-48                                                                   

            In seminary, one of the requirements was that we interned in a hospital as a chaplain.  We would visit people and mostly listen.  But then we met in a group which was essentially group therapy that was supposed to help us evaluate our behavior.  One the things that was ground into us was that we could never use the phrase, “You make me feel…”  We could say, “I feel sad because of something  that a patient said.”  But we could never say the other person made us feel something because then we were not taking ownership of our feelings.  Not only that, in doing so we were giving someone else power over our feelings. That is not the healthiest mindset and it does not help y ou help others.

In many ways, this concept of power was what Jesus was addressing in our Gospel today.  He was doing so in a very unique way.  If someone hits you, turn your cheek so they can hit the other one.  If someone steals you shirt, give them your coat too.  If someone takes advantage of you by making you carry their luggage for a mile, carry it another mile! This is not just unique, it’s plain crazy. Is this really how Christians are supposed to act---like doormats? It makes us appear weak, doesn’t it?  Who would ever want to associate with such weakness?

            As usual, there is more to this text than meets the eye.  First of all, remember who Jesus was talking to at this time.  These statements are part of the Sermon on the Mount---which we have been listening to for the last month.  Jesus was talking to a large group of followers, most of whom were poor.  They were also Jewish people living in Palestine, which means they were under Roman rule. They had very few rights.  Some of the examples that Jesus used in this reading were examples of people who had lost their rights and who were being taken advantage of. 

Let us consider the prevailing culture of the time.  Defending honor and avoiding shame (especially public displays of shame) were prevalent themes.  It is also a theme throughout the Old and New Testaments.   Battles were fought because one’s honor had been offended.  Family and friends were divided because of honor and shame.  Punishment was given to restore honor.  Often times the retaliation or punishment was greater in proportion to the crime itself.  The Old Testament sought to address this disproportion by limiting retaliation by essentially saying, “no more than an eye for an eye.”  For example, if someone punches you in face, it would not be appropriate to then kill them.  By the time Jesus was born, Jewish law had evolved by specifying a monetary fine for certain crimes.  Jesus of course, took it a few steps further.

            In Middle Eastern culture, to slap someone’s face was extremely offensive.  Just like today, people don’t usually slap people when they want to harm them.  They want to make a point.  You will notice from our reading that Jesus specifies the right side of the face.  Assuming that most people are right handed, to slap someone on the right side of the face, would mean you would have to backhand them.  This was pretty much the worst kind of insult you could inflict on someone.  It dishonored the person being slapped. The way to regain that honor was to return the slap.  Jesus was telling people to resist the urge to slap back.  By resisting the urge to retaliate, you were basically saying, “I cannot be dishonored that easily because you don’t have that kind of power over me.” 

            In the 2^nd example, Jesus says that if anyone wants to sue you for your coat you give them your cloak as well.  This is commonly explained, “If someone takes your shirt, give them your coat as well.”  That is not an accurate translation.   At the time, this was actually a legal transaction.  If you were in debt (which a lot of poor people were---and still are for that matter), you would give your coat as pledge that you would repay the debt. At this time the coat was more of a tunic (and undergarment).  Poor people would almost surely have two of them. While losing one would be a loss, it would not be a life threatening.  What would be life threatening would be losing your cloak.  A poor person would only have one.  It was used not only to shield you from the cold during the day, but as a blanket at night. 

Why would Jesus tell these people to give up their cloak after they had already given up their tunic?  This meant that you were naked.  In using this example, Jesus was being more metaphorical than literal.  By giving up your clothing, you reveal yourself.  But not only do you reveal yourself, you reveal the shame of the person who is forcing  you to reveal yourself.  It becomes evident to all how extreme and unfair the punishment is.  It brings things out in the open.

            The third example is referring to the right of the Roman soldier to force a Jewish person to carry their load (whatever that might be) for a mile.  This was also a way to shame the community because it was further proof that someone had power over them.  However, there were limits to the power.  The Roman soldier was only allowed to force the Jew to go one mile.  If they went more, the soldier could get in trouble.  By going the extra mile, the person was once again displaying the unjustness of the society that they were living in.  While a mile was perceived as reasonable by the Romans, more than that was uncivilized.[1]  It got people’s attention.

            By making these requests, Jesus was not asking people to be weak.  He was asking for strength and refusal to be shamed no matter who had the perceived power in the situation.  This power differential continues in our society in many ways.  Some of these ways are less obvious than others.  How many of us, regardless of whether we feel poor or oppressed, have given someone else power over ourselves—meaning the power to affect our feelings and our self-worth?  It is pretty common. There are hundreds of self-help books devoted to the topic of self-empowerment.  We don’t need the self-help books, because Jesus addressed it here in the 1^st century. 

The main difference between Jesus and the self-help books is that Jesus was not just talking about self-empowerment; he was talking about God-empowerment.  If your identity and your essence is rooted in God, then no person, no entity can shame you.  To be rooted in the identity of God means that you are inherently good and beautiful as you are made in God’s image.

Not only that, we have the power and the responsibility to stand up for those people who are being oppressed.  Jesus was not saying, “If someone is treating you unfairly, you might as well just give in and not cause a scene.”  He was saying, “Cause a scene--but not with violence, with honesty and your God given power---the power that no one can take away from you.”  Martin Luther King and Gandhi were both inspired by these words of Jesus. They were empowered by these words.  They changed the world with these words. 

In many ways Jesus died because he refused to appease the power structure of his day.  Then Christians did a crazy thing.  They took the cross, a symbol of Roman oppression and cruelty and they turned into a symbol of hope and redemption.  Let us remember that when we gaze at the beautiful crosses in our churches. They were not always so beautiful.  They were bloody and cruel.  Jesus transformed the cross and has also transformed us so that we can continue to be symbols and enablers of transformation in this world.  Later in the Gospel of Matthew Jesus told his disciples, “‘Have no fear of them; for nothing is covered up that will not be uncovered, and nothing secret that will not become known. What I say to you in the dark, tell in the light; and what you hear whispered, proclaim from the housetops.  Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul.’”[2]

---

[1] Explanations of the 3 examples were found in: Let the Scriptures Speak by Dennis Hamm   http://liturgy.slu.edu/7OrdA021917/theword_hamm.html

[2] Matthew 10:26-28a

Pragmatism is Overrated: February 5, 2017

Year A, Epiphany 5                                                               
Isaiah 58:1-9 and Matthew 5:13-20                                                                   

 

            When I was first ordained, I had a conversation with someone at a clergy event…well I suppose it was more of an argument.  At one point I said, “That’s just not realistic.”  He responded, “It really bothers me when people say something in our faith is not realistic.  There are a lot things in our faith that are not realistic.  That does not make them untrue.” That statement made an impact on me. While he was no doubt wrong about the argument itself, he definitely won that point.  Consider the Christian story. A baby was born to a virgin.  Kings from the East followed star to find the baby who was in a manger.  This baby grew to be a man who healed people, brought people back from the dead, walked on water, turned water into wine, and on and on.  He gathered a small band of followers who were mostly fishermen. This man Jesus, died so that people he did not know could be saved.  He came back to life and later floated up into heaven.  A religion was created from this small group of followers and now claims the greatest following in the whole world.  Is any of that realistic?

            Of course not! That is an indictment of Christianity, or really any faith.  People say it’s like believing in dragons or magic.   There is nothing real about.  It’s just there to make us feel better, or worse to give certain people power and dominion over others.  That’s what some people say.  If you are here in church, it is very likely that you already believe the unbelievable.  You might have a hard time believing it all, but there is something that draws you to Jesus and to faith…something that is extraordinary. So you keep coming back to this house of worship.  Many of us find holiness in these walls with this community.  We are emboldened by the prayers and the music.  But when we leave this sacred enclave, often our faith becomes private and personal.  It is still real, but it is real only in a corner of our lives.

            Jesus said, “You are the salt of the earth; but if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? ….“You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hid…”   Referring to people as light is not a new concept for most of us.  We sing. “This little light of mine, I’m going to let it shine…” We might describe someone as “lighting up a room.” Light is a good thing.  It enables us to see where we are going and what we are doing.  Light gives us hope.

Salt is a trickier metaphor.  When we think of salt, we think of something that is not good for us or something we have to cut out of our diet because we have high blood pressure.  We use it to season food that is bland.  It’s a common ingredient.  Nevertheless, it is something that almost everyone has in their kitchen.  It can be quite handy.  It can bring out the flavor in those bland things.  It adds a little zest.  Have you ever had french-fries without salt? They are horrible! With salt, those are some tasty treats.

Salt had slightly different purposes in the time when Jesus was telling people, “You are the salt of the earth.” It was used to preserve food.  It was even used for heat. They did not have gas or electric ovens like we have today.  They didn’t even use wood because it was hard to come by.  The stuff that was very abundant was camel or donkey dung.  This could be used as fuel, but only if you were able to mix salt with it.  Salt was essentially the catalyst that caused the dung to burn. While this is not the most appetizing image, it is clear that salt, like light, had and has an important purpose.  Salt and light, by their very nature do something.  Part of what Jesus was saying to his followers and to us is that we have a purpose.  We are here on earth to do something. 

You might think, well that is great news, but what are we supposed to do?  The answer to that is in the reading from the Old Testament, the Book of Isaiah.  In this story, we hear all about what people are doing.  They are fasting.  They are humbling themselves by rolling in ash and wearing sack cloth (which is an incredibly itchy fabric).  They are doing all the important rituals to get God’s attention and gain his favor--- but God is not listening, or if he is, he is not responding in the appropriate way.  In fact when God does respond to these displays of piety, God tells his prophet Isaiah, “I don’t want these symbolic gestures.  I want these people to do something….to do something for the other people in their midst.   I want them to help the oppressed, to share food with the hungry and bring homeless people into their homes.” 

What was really irritating God about this situation is that these people were fasting and spending all this time rolling around in ashes.  They were so busy making these grand gestures, other people had to do their work.  And the people who were doing their work were the people who were their servants and slaves.  They were people who did not have the luxury to say no to the people in power.  These people who were doing all these rituals were also using it as an opportunity to argue about who was more godly, who was more holy.  They had totally missed the point. 

I know I sound critical of this pious group and I should not be.  I am a priest.  I am all about ritual.  I know that it is easy to get lost in the ritual and the rules and forget what we (the people of God) are really about.  It is a lot easier to talk about God than do the work of God. It is easier to describe the light than to be the light. What God was asking of his people hundreds of years ago is what he still asks of us today: to help the oppressed, the share food with the hungry and bring homeless people into our homes.  That is a lot easier said than done, especially when most of us cannot agree on the best way to do those things. 

This is one of those times when Jesus and the Bible don’t seem very realistic.  I cannot let a homeless person in my home.  I mean, it’s one thing if we know them, a friend or family member who has fallen on hard times.  But I cannot welcome just any person into my home.  It’s dangerous. 

Unfortunately I don’t know what the answer is.  On the one hand, I believe that we are called to do things that do not make sense to the world, things that most people would say is totally unrealistic and naïve.  On the other hand, I don’t know the best way to do those things, or I am too scared to do them.   This is the best answer I can come up.  Jesus said, “You are the salt of the earth.  You are the light of the world.” He did not say, “Once you have reached paradise, you will be the salt of the earth and light of the world.” He did not say, “Once you have studied, discerned and come up with a practical solution, then, then you are the salt of the earth and you are the light of world.”  No. He is telling us all, right now, just as we are, that we are already the salt of the earth and the light of the world. 

But here is the hard part, we have to share the light.  The light cannot be relegated to our Sunday morning ritual.  We also have to act as catalysts in this world.  That is all a huge responsibility and overwhelming.  To be this light, to be agents of change, we need to gather our collective strength.  Each person here has a way that they are being light and they are being salt.  Tell me what it is.  Send me an e-mail, stick a post it under my door, give me a call. Then collectively, let us find more ways to be salt and light.  For awhile, let us suspend judgment.  Let is not yet decide who is the brightest or who has the most zest.  And maybe (and I know this is hard for practical Episcopalians) let us be just a tad, unrealistic.  When it comes to our faith, pragmatism is overrated.