Proper 9A
July 6, 2014
I have a secret. I don’t, as a general rule, truly appreciate Paul or his writings. His language is sometimes hard to understand, his concepts challenging, and his sentences way too long. Ask any lay reader. But today’s reading is one of the exceptions. I really like this section of Romans.
Not only that, but Paul observes that “when I want to what is good, evil lies close at hand”. This isn’t just a passive-ever resident sin, “I do what I don’t want to do”, but somehow, there’s something about Paul’s actions, his seemingly positive actions, where sin lurks. When me does something he thinks is good and right, it turns out to be bad and wrong. Sound familiar?
Just think about his actions before his conversion, when he was known as Saul. Saul the good Pharisee was helping the faithful by participating in the persecution of the early Christians. With full conviction and complete faith that he was doing what he was supposed to do, he held the coats of the people who stoned Stephen to death. Stephen, the man attributed as the first Christian deacon. Stephen the first Christian Martyr.
This wasn’t the instance where Saul meant to hurt anyone that day, but instead accidentally participated in a murder. He was doing what he thought was right. He was a willing partner because he believed it was the right thing to do. He was participating, in name of God. And even there, evil lurked.
I like this reading, because I appreciate and recognize both kinds of sin. One I’ll call accidental. This is the kind of sin where we intend to act in one way, and we, for some reason, act in the exact opposite. I mean to exercise. I mean to eat well. I mean to pray every morning. And yet. Despite my best intentions, I fail. And while I’m lazing, eating, or whatever it is I’m doing other than what I intend to be doing, my head is excusing it. This piece of chocolate won’t matter. Immediately after eating it, I know it was a bad call. It was a momentary lapse, almost like an accident. Everyone who’s tried to diet knows this. Why is it so hard? And eating well, or not eating well, is just the tip of the iceberg. Prayer. Kindness. Fidelity. We fully intend to act one way, and then – don’t.
The other kind of evil is more insidious, and harder to acknowledge and see. I’ll call this cloaked. This is the kind that isn’t an accident. We fully intend to take that action, because we fully believe we are justified and right. Saul holding the coats to make it easier for the people stoning Stephen. Me, saying that I can’t pray this morning because I’m going to ride my bike to work. This cloaked sin looks like the right thing to do. It feels like the right thing to do. And that’s why it’s so dangerous. Evil has a way of seeping into our brain and heart and make us think we’re doing something good. Sure, riding my bike is good. But prayer is great, and my soul needs it. Some days definitely need it more than a bike ride.
Now, some may say this is just weakness or temptation. Or a lack of commitment. I’m not sure that it matters what you call it. I am sure that there are times it feels like my normally controlled logical will is not steering the ship.
How could a full day of good eating habits be torpedoed by the ill-reasoned logic that the beer and nachos won’t matter? It feels like - momentarily at a minimum, I’m not the only one calling the shots, not the only one steering this ship.
I’m not suggesting that there’s a little horned devil on my shoulder. But while I am pretty comfortable that God is involved in my decisions and actions, I’ve been reluctant to acknowledge that other force. And I think Paul does a good job getting me to the place where I must. Listening to the reading from Romans and Paul going on about doing what he doesn’t mean to do could sound like a crazy person. But we’ve all been there. He’s describing something we’ve all experienced. And when you think about it the way Paul frames it, he helps us reach the conclusion that sin and evil are real, and are real close.
If that’s the case, if there are moments when I act in ways that seem externally influenced, or where my iron will is somehow compromised, or where my fully committed actions end up being a big cover up for bad actions, I have to imagine that this is true for others. If it’s true for me, it’s probably true for others I know and love. For my kids. My husband. My co-workers and friends.
And it stands to reason that if it’s true for the people I love, it’s probably true for those who I don’t. For those I barely like. Imagine the worst of the worst. The drug addicts. The abusers. Those people who act in ways you can’t understand, can’t excuse, and can’t love. Just like me and my healthy eating, they too intend to act one way and then act another. Just the same.
It’s that same sin, that same insidious cloaked sin that causes me to ride my bike instead of sitting with God. It’s the cloaked sin that makes the woman prostitute herself to make money to feed her children. It’s the same accidental sin that make the business man have that drink when he knows better, or that person on the street have one more high.
And more insidious is the cloaked sin of pecking order. On the streets or in prison, there is an absolute, inviolate pecking order. The clients who help out with the breakfast are quick to point out the shortcomings of those still dealing drugs. They think, “I am better than those people, because my sin is less current, less horrible than theirs.” It’s the same cloaked sin that makes us pass the same judgment on them. I am better than those people, because my sin less current, less horrible than theirs. True, the magnitude may differ, but the presence of sin and its effect on all of us is the same.
But there is some good news.
Paul finishes his explanation to the people of Rome with pretty simple ways to banish sin and evil. It’s being connected to God through Christ that we can overcome the sin and evil. It’s like closet space. Fill the closet space with something good, or it will be filled with something not good. But it will be filled.
It’s not that God prevents evil from happening, or always keeps us from sinning, but I think sin and evil take up those spaces in our hearts and minds and souls that we can and should choose to fill up with God instead.
When that space, when our souls are filled with sin and evil, it’s tiring. We’re tired. We’re tired of the hardness and the darkness. It’s from that place of cold and dark that Christ is most refreshing, and most peaceful.
This is what the Gospel is talking about. Come, all who are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. I need to find rest for my weary soul in God. We all need to find rest. Rest in God.
In Christ, we connect with God when we are weary. Through Christ, we see others in this world who are weary and need to connect with God. Christ knows the world we live in. Christ knows that we need God, and Christ provides a way for us to connect to God. This connection doesn’t prevent the evil and sin. Rather, Christ knows this is what our world is like, and with Christ as a respite, we can continue through it.
Richard Rohr, a Catholic priest and author says this. "The most amazing fact about Jesus, unlike almost any other religious founder, is that he found God in disorder and imperfection—and told us that we must do the same or we would never be content on this earth. ”
This is why we are called to work with the broken, the hurt, the criminal. These children of God need rest. And while they may not find their way to a church building, to a Eucharistic table, we will leave this building and this table and find them. On behalf of Christ, we will help share their burden. The burden caused by that darkness and sin, the accidental and the cloaked.
We turn to Christ for our comfort, to give rest to the weary. To fend off the darkness in our lives. We need to be that light for others, to help them fend off the darkness in theirs.
Amen.
