The
psalmist wrote, "Save me from the mire; do not let me sink; / let me be
rescued from those who hate me / and out of the deep waters." What had the psalmist gotten himself into and
why? If we read the psalm from the
beginning, we know he claims to have been accused falsely and has become
alienated from family members.. He may have been accused of stealing: "What
I did not steal / must I now restore?" he says in verse 4. He also claims
to care deeply about the temple. Could
the accusation stem from something he intended to offer at the temple—that
whatever he offered was not his to offer?
What
we can say with certainty is this: the psalmist appears to be isolated from
others and hated by them. He admits to
doing some things that were wrong in verse 5.
Now he cries to God for help: "Answer me, O Lord, for your / steadfast
love is good; / according to your abundant mercy turn to me . . . Draw near to
me, redeem me, / set me free . . . "
In
today's gospel reading from Matthew the situation Jesus finds himself in is
very similar to that of the psalmist.
He's been falsely accused of being the prince of demons
("Beelzebub"). He knows anyone
who follows him will be smeared with the same condemnation as well. Jesus tries to reassure the disciples by
describing God's "abundant mercy:"
"Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will
fall to the ground apart from your father. . . So do not be afraid; you are of
more value than many sparrows."
At
times our lives may be as desperate as the psalmist's or as desperate as Jesus
knows the disciples' lives will become. To be stuck in the mud, to be up to our
neck in deep water--we can relate to these colorful choices of images. They can match our experience when we get
into a conflict with someone with whom we disagree or with someone who holds us
in contempt unfairly. Jesus' description
of family relationships being broken apart because of his ministry offers us a
unblinking look at the cost of discipleship for the folks who followed
him.
We, too, may find ourselves having
to deal with water that is not only up to our necks, but is also choppy. Choices we make and those other people make
can be the source of conflicts and painful partings of the ways. When we fear a
choice we are about to make will lead to pain for us--even though we are almost
certain it's the right thing to do--we would do well to remember Jesus'
assurance of God's care for us.
"So
do not be afraid; you are of more value than many sparrows"--who are held
securely in God's most loving regard.
I
struggle with the reading from Jeremiah recounting his feelings about his
persecutors and with Jesus' words about not coming to bring peace but a sword.
In their historical contexts they are reasonable. But we must be careful how we
apply in our own contexts. When should
we become righteously indignant and take action that may cause a situation to blow
up? Think Jesus' overturning the tables
of the money changers in the temple? Or when should we act as a reconciling
presence, a non-anxious presence, even if others are losing their cool? Think Jesus gently redirecting Martha as she
complained about her sister's lack of help: "Martha, Martha, you are
worried and anxious about many things . . ."
Discernment
of when, where and how to act in a conflicted situation often isn't easy. The cost of being Jesus' disciple in such
situations can be high. Just as acting
in an ethical and moral way when the context is corrupt or oppressive can be
costly. Yet we are called to be Christ's
heart, hands and feet in the world. We
are called to work and pray for God's reign of peace with justice.
Frank
Logue, an Episcopal priest and writer, reflected on the readings we heard today
and the cost of discipleship: "When
your faith leads you to make public stands that are not popular, opposition
will come. Problems will arise. This is to be expected. But we also know that
we do not face these problems alone.
“The
anchor has long been a symbol in Christian art for the hope that we have in
Jesus Christ. Though storms may come, we have a sure and certain hope that
gives us purchase on the rock. Hold fast to the faith that is in you, knowing
that Jesus said, ‘Even the hairs of your head are counted. Do not be afraid.’
“Or
to borrow the imagery of the psalmist, when [what’s] all around begins to seem
like deep mire, count on your relationship with God to provide the firm ground
on which you can stand. Jesus did not promise you a life of no battles, but he
did promise the victory."
The
Rev. Canon Frank S. Logue, “Facing battles with the promise of victory,” Sermons that Work, Episcopal Digital
Network, June 22, 2014.
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