John 2: 13-22
Rarely do I tell a joke at the beginning of my
sermon—actually I use very few jokes in any event. It’s too easy to keep chuckling about the
joke mentally and letting your mind wander.
But I’m taking the risk today, because this the perfect joke for
Lent. It’s perfect in that it frames the
tension of between our fears of judgment and our faith.
Here it is: The
worship service has ended. The priest stands in the front doorway, shaking
hands with parishioners as they leave. A mother, father and son have come down
the steps and are walking away, perhaps to their car or to coffee hour in
another building. The child tugs on his
dad’s sleeve to get his attention. Then
he asks, “Just WHEN were you going to tell me about hell?”
In medieval times we know that the church offered the
faithful indulgences to free them from a certain amount of time in purgatory
and prevent them from going to hell for their sins. Of course, these
indulgences were sold to raise money to support the church. In Judaism from ancient
times and in other religions, too, animals were sacrificed as a way to express one’s
faith, garner favor with the divine and feed the leaders of ritual practices.
By the time of Jesus, people were asked to contribute money as well. The problem with the Roman coinage could be
described as violating the second commandment about making idols. The coins had Caesar’s image, a sacrilege if
brought into the inner courts of the Temple to pay the temple tax.
The Protestant Reformation changed the way we understood
the salvation of humanity. Martin
Luther, a leading reformer, taught that humanity was not earned, but given by
God without merit by good deeds on our part.
He said it was God’s free gift of grace through faith in Jesus Christ as
our redeemer from sin. Heaven is gained, and hell can be dodged through our
faith.
Given Jesus’ prophetic anger at those merchants who
assisted pilgrims and worshippers to meet the requirements of their religious
expression—which by the way is in all four gospels—perhaps we should pause to
think about our religious expression. How
do we understand appropriate religious expression? Why do we do we express
ourselves in these ways?
Today I’d like to use the image of a table to answer these
questions. Since sometimes we call the
altar a table—and since the altar in our worship space looks like a table with supporting
legs—I think we can make this image work for us.
Religious expression that would be pleasing to Jesus might
be seen as a “stable table” supported at each corner by a leg. If one of those legs is missing, it becomes
an “unstable table,” perhaps not collapsing immediately, but in significant
trouble. I am calling these four legs: covenant
law, the life-affirming ethical and moral practices in our society, worship in
community, faith in God’s lovingkindness.
The first leg is covenant law, seen in the Hebrew Scriptures,
called the Mosaic covenant. Our first
reading began today: “God spoke all these words [of law] . . .” God’s law was a
gift to the Israelites to show his care for them. Entering into covenant with God by trying to
obey these words would lead both the Israelites--and us--into a close relationship
with God and into healthy relationships with other people, which then will lead
to abundant life.
The second leg is life-affirming ethical and moral
practices in our society today. Some
practices, which appear in the Bible, such as slavery, were acceptable for
thousands of years, but have now been condemned. We have come to understand
that we should consider every other person as worthy of our respect,
although we don’t always manage to do this. We remember our baptismal covenant
includes these questions: “Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons,
loving your neighbor as yourself? Will
you strive for justice and peace among all people and respect the dignity of
EVERY human being?” We know we should
treat each person as worthy of God’s love and our care. We should work to structure our society so
that all people can access the abundance with which many of us are blessed.
These “corporal works of mercy” do not earn us salvation, but through them we gratefully
respond to the blessings we have received.
The third leg is worshipping God in community. You have
come together here at St. Nicholas this morning to pray to God, to sing praise
to God, to experience the presence of God in the blessed bread and wine, and to
support our brothers and sisters in their journey of faith. I believe God finds
joy in experiencing the love we show when we worship together—love for God, and,
yes, for each other as well.
The fourth leg is faith in God’s lovingkindness—chesed is the word in the Hebrew
Scriptures. Acting out of this love for us, God became incarnate in Jesus—became
truly human. For our sake Jesus endured
crucifixion out of love. He overcame death through the power of God’s love. We
cannot see God as long as we live here on earth, but our faith in God’s loving
presence allows us to face whatever life throws at us. In the end God’s loving
grace will keep our sins from having the last word.
So how stable does our table seem to be today? Are we trying to obey God’s covenant law in a
way that reflects the loving way God intended it? Are we also trying to follow the
life-affirming ethical and moral practices in our society? Are we eager to worship
with others? Are we able to cling to our faith in God’s lovingkindness despite
life’s difficulties?
When we are able—with God’s help—to discover how to keep
those four legs attached to our table of religious expression, then that “stable
table” will become God’s altar in our hearts. And, yes, Jesus will be pleased!
No comments:
Post a Comment