Pentecost 5 - June 23, 2013 Who's worthy of God's blessing?

Today our readings seem barely related.  The reading from Isaiah mentions swine and tombs, as does the reading from Luke. And during the Pentecost season the Epistle readings--like the one we heard from St. Paul's letter to the Galatians--are read straight through the epistle without trying to relate to either of the other readings.  Recently I found out that one of the priests in my clergy Bible study group has a parishioner who rates his sermons each week.  She gives him a number--5.5, 8.0, etc.--as one might score a gymnast's or an ice skater's performance. In large part it is based on how well he is able to tie all three readings together.  The degree of difficulty for him this morning is rather high, I think.

Preaching on one, two or all three lessons should not be considered a matter of theological or homiletic gymnastics, but on whether doing so aids us in understanding where the Spirit of God is leading.  "So what difference will this make in our lives?" I should always ask this question in preparing to preach.  Of course, what we do, what we say, what we think, what we feel--all these parts of our lives are important.  Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, a 20th century French theologian claimed, "We are not physical beings having a spiritual experience; we are spiritual beings having a physical experience."  So what we discern about God through reading and thinking about scripture, praying, participating in the speech act we call preaching and in receiving Christ at the Eucharist--all these can and should make a difference in our lives--each day and each week.

So as I prepared this week I began to realize that these three readings are like snapshots taken to answer the same two questions. They are: Who are we? (and) Who are we in God's eyes?  After we have answered these questions, then one more arises: How should I pattern my life based on what I have learned after I have answered these questions?

Our scriptures in the first chapter of Genesis teach us that God creates; God blesses creation, and God calls creation good.  The Garden of Eden represents this harmony between God and humankind--a harmony that was lost and that God seeks to restore.  We humans may well be ambivalent about that restoration, for God's gift of free will allows us to make choices--even the choice to pattern our lives with no regard for God's blessing and God's grace.

So, despite our ambivalence, let's try to answer our questions--Who are we? Who are we in God's eyes?--in the light of these three lessons.  Isaiah depicts God calling humans rebellious, "who walk in a way of that is not good, following their own devices."  The activities he mentions are associated with idol worship, such as the worship of the Canaanite gods, often called Ba'al. Isaiah describes God's displeasure and desire to repay humanity's rebellion by abandoning them.  But God could not bring God's self to abandon his creation.  God remembers his promise in the covenant he made with Abraham to give him many descendants who would bless the whole world. God vows to remain faithful to those he chose.

St. Paul's letter to the Galatians deals with a problem that plagued the early church, one that has never been solved. Members of the church, the body of Christ, make distinctions among them selves--who is the sort of person with whom God desires a relationship and who is not. The enormous question for the church at that time was whether one must become a Jew first before one could become a Christian.  Paul argues that God sees all sorts of folks as worthy of God's blessing and grace: "As many of you were baptized into Christ have clothed yourself with Christ.  There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.  And if you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham's offspring, heirs according to the promise."  Faith in Christ, according to Paul, should offer human beings freedom from the bondage of society places on them because of their birth status or their economic status. We now should perceive a much larger circle of folks to whom God will be faithful and whom God loves.

Although our Gospels describe an earlier time than Paul's letters do in the development of Christianity, they were written much later.  Sometimes stories from the Gospels speak to an issue that concerned the church in its life in the latter part of the first century.  For example, how would those folks who might first appear quite far outside the circle of God’s love view the life and teachings of Jesus?  The land of the Garasenes and the man suffering from what we might describe as serious mental illness fit the bill.  These folks lived on the "wrong" or Gentile side of the Sea of Galilee, and the man was a terror even in that community. 

We know the details of the story are tied to the culture and beliefs of the time, yet we can still recognize a man who is rejected by everyone--a dangerous misfit and totally outside respectable human society.  He even rejected the possibility of help from Jesus. We have only to look at our prisons and some of the homeless on our streets to find such folk today.  And to be completely honest with you, as I considered over the week what this story truly means, I came to the conclusion that we have only to look at ourselves to see this sad human figure.  In modern terms, this man may well represent what Sigmund Freud labeled our "id."  And our id will lead us to deeds of selfish power and destruction without the mediation of our superego, imposed on us by our cultural norms.

What Jesus does in this narrative is to give this man back his true self, his ego in Freudian terms.  Luke describes the healed man as clothed and in his right mind, sitting at Jesus' feet.  Jesus, through the healing power that came from God, restored this man--who no one would have considered worthy of God's blessing and grace--to wholeness of life.  The circle of folks to whom God is faithful and whom God loves has grown again.  If God blesses this wild, destructive and mentally ill man, can we imagine anyone whom God will not include in God's circle of blessing?

         So if we have come to believe that God abandons no one, how should we pattern our life to reflect that belief?  Who do we believe is so unworthy that we can reject their needs without a second thought?  Each of us has our own list.  Then should we start by realizing that God loves each of us--despite what darkness lurks in our souls?  Should we reconsider our attitudes and behavior toward those we have always rejected as unworthy people?  Perhaps in our prayers we need to ask Jesus, as did the expert in Mosaic law in the 10th chapter of Luke--which will be our gospel reading in three weeks--"And who is my neighbor?"

Pentecost 2 - June 2, 2013 God Acts, Crossing Boundaries!

The nature of Jesus as healer, social commentary on the relationship between the Roman Empire and Second Temple Judaism, earthly authority v. divine authority--all these would make interesting approaches to the study of our reading today from the Gospel of Luke.  But preaching isn't Bible study.  Rather I believe preaching involves finding a nugget of meaning within the scriptures offered by our lectionary for today and asking how might we use that nugget to understand more about God and how our lives can respond to that understanding.  

To expand the nugget metaphor a bit we might consider how that nugget might be extracted from the ore of the biblical text.  Then we might want to turn it over in our minds--tumbling might be the metaphor here--until it becomes a lustrous gem of truth for today.  Eternal truths are a bit trickier than this to discern and may well take centuries to refine by many thoughtful folks, such as this one: the arc of history is long, but it bends toward justice.

But for today our task will be to extract of nugget of meaning from the gospel reading and to turn it over in our minds. For this we need a tool. Tools might come from a moments in one's life this week, from the news, from a conversation with a friend or anything that can direct our thoughts more deeply. For me, this week as I read the gospel passage, the words of Pope Francis helped me find that nugget of meaning.  

Here are his words as reported online: "The Lord has redeemed all of us, all of us, with the Blood of Christ: all of us, not just Catholics. Everyone,” the pope told worshipers at morning Mass on Wednesday. “‘Father, the atheists?’ Even the atheists. Everyone!”  Francis continued, “We must meet one another doing good. ‘But I don’t believe, Father, I am an atheist!’ But do good: we will meet one another there.”

The key words for me were these:  "But do good: we will meet one another there."  Some folks were ready to explain away what he said.  Oh, he really didn't mean that it was unimportant whether you were an atheist or a Catholic. He knows that all must eventually come to God through the Roman Catholic Church.  But no, I disagree—Pope Francis seems to be a man who isn't afraid to take a new and fresh look at how to communicate the gospel.

This is what his words mean to me:  Jesus' healing of the centurion's slave allowed disparate folks to meet and experience God's redeeming love. Jewish elders, an alternative rabbi whom many considered the long-desired Messiah, a Roman centurion with some disposable income, some friends of the centurion and the centurion's slave would not have sat down for dinner together, but they did meet one another in doing good.  And in that space of their "meeting" healing happened, redemption happened.

Lots of social, political and theological boundaries were crossed in this event.  The centurion cared for the well being of a trusted and valued slave above and beyond what anyone would have expected of him.  The Jewish elders--with some financial ulterior motives perhaps--agreed to assist this representative of the Roman occupation with a mission of mercy.  Jesus agreed to help with this mission of mercy--even though he must have realized he was being "used."  The friends of the centurion probably would not have wanted any dealings with this alternative Jewish rabbi, but they cared enough about their friend's need to do as he asked. 

The first sign of God's redeeming action was the centurion's humility.  As a god-fearing Gentile he had been attracted to Judaism by its monotheism and by the ethical living spelled out in the Torah.  He recognized a special authority--one might call it divine authority--shown by the life and teachings of Jesus.  In his humility the centurion did not require Jesus to come to him to heal the servant, "but only say the word."  And Jesus acknowledged the centurion's great faith, a second sign that God's redeeming love was operating in this moment.

Our nugget of meaning in all of this, I believe, is God's boundless love and God's ability to act redemptively across all boundaries we humans choose to erect.  As we turn this nugget over and over again in our minds, do we feel comfortable about it, because that was then and this is now?  Jesus directed his closing comment about the centurion's impressive faith at the Jewish elders, not us, right? Let us not get too comfortable!  I believe we must ask ourselves whom would we be uncomfortable sitting down at the table with?  As Jesus was willing to be "used" to allow space for God's redeeming love to act, can we find room in our hearts for compassion toward folks that make us feel uncomfortable?  And as the centurion in humility laid aside the power society gave him, will we be able to step back from our need for power and control to allow God's healing love to flow into our lives?

Let's consider the words of Pope Francis again:

"The Lord has redeemed all of us, all of us, with the Blood of Christ: all of us, not just Catholics. Everyone."

 'Father, the atheists?' 

"Even the atheists. Everyone! We must meet one another doing good."

 ‘But I don’t believe, Father, I am an atheist!’

 "But do good: we will meet one another there.” 

And to this let us respond with a hope-filled "Amen."