To chose and to be chosen: these words can describe various
relationships—friendships, teams, marriages, to name a few. There can be a mutuality in the
choosing—with both people being equal and free to accept or reject the choice
of the other. Yet, “to choose” can
imply the person doing the choosing holds power over the one being chosen. “To be chosen” for a job, for example,
implies a power differential: the boss does the choosing and—if you need to
earn a living—you accept the work offered, happy to be the one chosen.
How do we view our relationship to God? Do we chose God?
Does God choose us? Some
people view God as being able to choose whomever God wants. If we, on the other hand, view
ourselves as having free will vis a vis God, then we have the power of choice
as well.
These two points of view inform our understanding of adult (or
believer's) baptism in contrast to infant baptism. Adults can make promises to reject evil and choose Jesus
Christ as their Lord. Doing this
of their own free will, they appear to hold the power of choice. But many Christian churches baptize
infants as well. Although
godparents and parents make the baptismal promises, our theology claims that
the sacrament of baptism is valid for infants, despite their inability to make
an informed choice. We believe
that God offers grace through the sacraments, including infant baptism—choosing
us, even when we are incapable of choosing God. Both these points of view are
theologically valid ways to understand baptism or any Christian sacrament—even
though they will always remain in constant tension with each other. For example, we can speak about our
choosing to have faith—“we believe in one God, maker of heaven and earth.” Or we can say we understand our faith
as a gift from God, a mystery we can not explain easily, but one which is true
for us, nevertheless.
In the reading we heard from Exodus, we find Moses in dialog with God
about how God's choice to make the Israelites God's people should work: Moses spoke to God, “If have found
found favor in your sight, show me your ways, so that I may know you and find
favor in your sight.” [“Know”
implies an intimate relationship.] A few sentences later, Moses defines more
clearly what he is asking God for:
“Show me your glory, I pray.”
That is a step too far. God
affirms God's relationship with Moses with the words, “I know you by
name.” And God promises to show
graciousness and mercy to those, including Moses, as God chooses. But God restricts even Moses from
seeing his face.
The writer of the book of Job has Job speak about the relationship
he wants to have with God when his earthly life ends. We use these words from the 19th chapter of Job
as part of the opening anthems in the Burial Rite: “I know that my Redeemer lives . . .After my awaking, he
will raise me up; and in my body, I shall see God. I myself shall see, and my eyes behold him who is my friend
and not a stranger.” Through God's
action after one's death, the prohibition about seeing God and knowing God
intimately is lifted.
St. Paul brought up God's action of grace in his first letter to the
Thessalonians—the earliest written theology of God's calling humanity into
relationship through Jesus' life, death and resurrection. Paul wrote, “For we know, brothers and
sisters beloved by God that he has chosen you . . .” And then Paul explains how this choosing
happened: “ . . . because our
gospel came to you not in word only but also in power and in the Holy Spirit
and with full conviction . . .”
Paul claimed that God acted powerfully through the third person of the
Trinity to convince and transform those who heard Paul preach the gospel of
Jesus Christ.
So we recognize both the sacraments and the preaching of the
gospel as vehicles God to call us— to choose us. Each time we hear a sermon and each time we receive the
mystical body and blood of Christ we may sense the call of God as a barely
discernible whisper—or it may be a like loud rushing wind overwhelming us with
its power.
But in the reading from Matthew we heard this morning, the disciples
of the Pharisees pose a question to Jesus that focuses on the other part of the
“choosing-and-being-chosen” relationship.
In the real world we frequently face ethical and moral dilemmas. These religious leaders tried to create
one for Jesus in order to trap him into either losing the common people's
support or getting into serious trouble with the Roman rulers. Such a subtle question—but such a
trap. Let me paraphrase: You very sincere, fair, and righteous
person, are you going to support oppression and terror—or not? Jesus' answer defined for them—and for
us—the true question: What does it
mean to choose God in the real world in response to God choosing us?
Ceasars—the rulers in this world—both those elected and those put in
power by force—can demand what may be felt as oppressive, even cruel, by those
they govern. St. Augustine in his
book, The City of God, said human governments will always be that
way. Our choosing God—our giving
to God the things that are God's as Jesus puts it—means we will offer all that
we have and all that we are to God who has chosen us first. In choosing us, God offers us freedom
from the power, not only of human oppression and all other sin, but also
freedom from the power of death.
In choosing God, we accept this freedom, and we accept the
responsibility for offering ourselves as Christ's compassionate heart, hands
and feet in the world.
St. Paul praised the Thessalonians for their choosing God in
Jesus. He called their life in
Christian community, “your work of faith and labor of love and steadfastness of
hope in our Lord Jesus Christ.”
May God find such a community among us here at St. Nicholas.'
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