How happy are you this morning? On a scale of 1-6, with 6 being extremely
happy, what's your number this morning?
Does that number go up when I remind you that the women's bathroom is
functional again? How does the sunshine
today affect your number? If you checked
out the news this morning and were reminded of this problem or that problem in
the world, what would that do to your number?
The psalmist's words in Psalm 32 should inform our answers
to my “how-happy-are-you” question. The Common
English Bible, published in 2011, translates the first two verses of the
psalm this way:
“The one whose wrongdoing is forgiven, whose sin is covered
over, is truly happy. / The one the Lord doesn't consider guilty—in whose
spirit there is no dishonesty—that one is truly happy!”
So since our liturgical custom in Lent is to say the general
confession at the beginning of the service and then sing the Kyrie—Lord,
have mercy upon us—shouldn't our happiness be at 6??
What I think I am getting at is the difference between a
“life-is-good-and-I'm-so-cool” feeling of happiness and the conviction that
God's forgiving love can act in our lives—personally and in the life of our
community, too—to make us deeply content.
In our readings this morning, both Jesus and St. Paul talk about how
this might happen—about how we might understand God's forgiving love.
Of course, we can understand Jesus' teaching more easily
than Paul's—since Paul uses fancy theological language, while Jesus speaks
quite plainly with a story. We all know
the story of the Prodigal Son—or the story of the Generous Father—or the story
of the God Who Runs. You can put yourself as any of the characters: the younger
son who asks for the unthinkable and then squanders his good fortune by
breaking every commandment possible, the father [you can change the gender to
“mother” if that helps your imagination] who bestows gifts and love without
reserve, the disgusted elder son who whines and complains about his treatment.
Personally, I've always wanted to see the robe given the younger son, probably
made out of a gorgeous, rich fabric, and the ring—gold with sapphires,
perhaps. Maybe I'd be the servant who
brought those items and who had a chance to touch them, longingly, if only briefly. Guess I might be missing the point of the
parable—but with these images, speaking hopefully, I can better understand the
father's forgiving love, expressed as unbelievable, unconditional generosity.
What struck me as I prepared for today was not the story
itself, but its context. Historically, Jesus was speaking to a group of
insiders—the religious elite—to let them know that God's forgiving love would
include lots of people—especially folks quite different from themselves. And yet, God still loved them, too—even
though they might complain about the wideness of God's love. But that isn't the context I'm talking about.
What struck me was the accusation they made against
Jesus. When the “undesirables”—the “tax
collectors” and those who could not or would not keep the law, the
“sinners”—drew near to hear Jesus teach, the elites made this accusation: “This
fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.”
Oh my goodness, or OMG, might be our reaction if this had been a tweet
by one of the Pharisees! I reacted with
OMG, because I realized that Jesus will welcome sinners and to eat with
him this morning, right here in our midst, here at St. Nicholas'. Yes, I am talking about our participating in
Holy Communion: “On the night he was
handed over to suffering and death, our Lord Jesus Christ took bread . . . and
said, 'Take eat . . '[; and] After supper, he took the cup of wine . . . and
said, “Drink this, all of you . . .” As
the less than perfect disciples were invited by Jesus to dine with him, so
Jesus invites each of us this morning.
Our Eucharistic celebration makes the past come into our present moment,
and we become aware we are in the presence of Christ.
Although we would not call each other, “You sinner,” each of
us knows in our deepest place that we do miss the mark of following in the way
of Jesus—loving God with all our being and loving our neighbors as
ourselves—even to the point of praying for people we dislike or distrust, our
enemies. I have been brought up short
more than once by Mary, my spiritual director.
I have been talking to her about a situation that I'm less than happy
about. She identifies the person who is
involved in that situation and asks me, “Have you been praying for him (or
her)?” I have once again missed the
mark!
Yet, as St. Paul explained why God in Jesus came to live as
one of us: “. . . in Christ, God was reconciling the world to himself, not
counting their trespasses against them . . . For our sake he made him sin who
knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.”
Indeed, our sins have been covered by Christ; and, indeed,
that should make us happy. But this is
only one step in our Christian journey.
God hopes we will respond to God's forgiving love and take the next
step. St. Paul put it this way, “So we
are ambassadors of Christ, since God is making his appeal through us; . .
.”
One of my favorite prayers can be found in the Morning
Prayer liturgy as one of three choices to pray for mission—a prayer for our
work as ambassadors of Christ. This
prayer also echoes the embrace by the father of the prodigal son. It can be found on page 101 of the
prayerbook. Will you join me in praying
it?
Lord
Jesus Christ, you stretched out your arms of love on the hard wood of the cross
that everyone might come within the reach of your saving embrace: So
clothe us in your Spirit that we, reaching forth our hands in love, may bring
those who do not know you to the knowledge and love of you; for
the honor of your Name. Amen.
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