The portion of the creation story we heard this morning tells us
that the names of animals came from human creativity. Of course, we have no idea what those words sounded like. Perhaps they were like the sounds the
animals make. My 16 month old
grandson delights in answering questions about what different animals say. It certainly would be easy to refer to
a critter by its sound.
On the day we celebrate St. Francis' love for all God's creatures by
blessing our pets, hearing about this first relationship between humans and
critters seems particularly appropriate.
The human's job was to name each animal, and the animals' job was to be
companions for human beings. This
sort of relationship between humans and animals foreshadows the domestication
of animals when they became essential to human survival.
But such a relationship based on practicality and survival was not
enough. The writer of this passage
in Genesis depicts the beginning of another type of relationship: “bone of my
bones, flesh of my flesh” are the words that one human being used to describe
another human being. The following
editorial comment about becoming one flesh shows how important this relationship
is—the only relationship more important in the mind of the author of this
passage would exist between humanity and God.
Small wonder then that Jesus did not allow conventional attitudes—or
even what the Torah allows—concerning the most intimate of human relationships
to trap him into demeaning anyone.
Jesus held everyone—men and women both—to highest standard of ethical
behavior. “Love your neighbor as yourself” begins at home.
The context for Mark's lengthy report of Jesus' teaching about
divorce and remarriage is two-fold.
First, we read in the 6th chapter of Mark's gospel that
Jesus' cousin, John the Baptizer, was arrested and later beheaded, because he
spoke out against King Herod's wife—already kin to him through marriage—for
divorcing her husband to marry the king. Thus, the issue of divorce and
re-marriage may have had a very personal meaning for Jesus.
Second, divorce and re-marriage must have been important issues in
the Christian community for which Mark wrote. The Torah only allowed men to divorce their wives. Greco-Roman law and custom allowed
either person in a marriage relationship to divorce the other and—as I
understand history—was fairly common.
Mark wanted to show that Jesus would have been offended by both types of
divorce and remarriage, Jewish and Gentile.
Why would Jesus have been offended? Because vulnerable people—the
women—would be hurt when they lost their place in society and whatever economic
security they may have had in their marriage. Jesus also appeared to be offended by the legalism of
conventional practices voiced by the Pharisees in Mark's account.
Jesus was speaking out against the idea that a certain behavior was
just fine, in fact, no problem at all, if the law allowed it. He called it “hardness of heart,” and
emphatically condemned it. As he
did in his Sermon on the Mount, he holds his followers to the highest ethical
standard, which is this: your intent and the effect of your behavior on
others matter as much as what you do or don't do.
One of my seminary professors claimed that we always have “mixed
motives” in the choices we make.
The Reformation theologians called it being a “saint” and a “sinner” at
the same time. In their opinion,
only God's grace could save a person from this impossible position.
Today, I'd like to consider two issues in terms of “hardness of
heart” or its opposite, “generosity of heart.” First, since we are celebrating St. Francis today, we need
to consider how we as a society treat the natural world (plants, animals,
earth) in our care. Do we see
ourselves at the center of it all with our needs or wants paramount, or do we
see ourselves as caretakers, careful stewards, if you will, of God's good
creation. Should stewardship of
creation entail some sacrifice on our parts? Which of our modern conveniences and comforts might we be
willing to live without?
Second, right how we, as a parish, are engaged in considering our
commitment to God's work in the world—our commitment both of financial
resources and of our time and talent.
I have seen it demonstrated over the past six years that our “generosity
of heart” usually trumps any “hardness of heart” we may feel at times. But with each gift we make to St.
Nicholas'—or to other charitable causes—we may experience a small twinge of
uncertainly—have I given to God in response to the blessings I have received or
have I given for some other reason . . . have I given as my circumstances allow
or have I contributed less than I should?
Because of this uncertainty, we should consider the question of our commitment
to God's work in our prayers. May
the Spirit of God to inspire each of us as we decide what our gift will be.
Our life together here at St. Nicholas'—our worship and our service
to others—these are important. We
are not earning our salvation, but we are allowing ourselves to be open to
influences that may soften any tendencies we have towards “hardness of heart.”
Jesus said in the gospel passage we heard this morning that God's
kingdom belongs to children and those who become as children. We puzzle about what Jesus meant
exactly, but I would like to suggest this possibility: unless they have been abused, the
hearts of young children have not been hardened—they are vulnerable, and they
have an openness, a generosity of heart. They offer themselves whole-heartedly
when they are with people whom they know and trust. Is our relation with God
like this: we trust and love God, so we offer ourselves whole-heartedly to God? Is this what Jesus means when he
describes our participation in God's reign? I think perhaps it is!
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