Today, in my walk through the Bible in a year, I enter Leviticus. This is the book that I believe causes all sorts of trouble by literalists, Christians and Jews and non-believers. This morning’s portion is full of rules and regulations explicitly describing how to slaughter for sacrifice, what parts to offer, what parts not to offer, which animals and grains to offer.
Today, thousands of years later, people read Leviticus very very selectively, and then very literally. But only the parts they want to take literally. For example, it is very clear that if a whole congregation sins, it is to slaughter a bull as a sin offering. I don’t know the last time that happened in any faith tradition. My personal favorite that I read this morning is, “All fat is the Lord’s”. I’d like this to be true for me personally. God can have all my fat. Please.
I start Leviticus lightly because I think it’s so important to read it for what it is; a set of rules that the ancient Israelites understood to be God’s rules and expectations of them. Their obedience of these rules was their way to show obedience to their God, to make sacrifices to God. Read in today’s world, with the Living Word, Leviticus isn’t about bull sacrifices or wring the heads off pigeons. It’s about obedience and sacrifice, at least as I read it.
This morning, I’m thinking about where God is calling me to be obedient, and sacrificial. In my faith tradition, ordination creates a very apparent sense of obedience. I took vows to obey my bishop, to study scripture, to model my life on them. I committed to make known the needs of the world to the church, and to expose the church to the needs of the world. If I meant it, these are all meaningful examples of obedience in this vocation.
But I’m not sure about the sacrifice. Long before I was ordained but after I’d started to think about it, I felt that I was a deacon, as defined by my tradition. Making the needs of the world known to God’s people isn’t a sacrifice; it’s who I am. And when I stood before the Bishop and made these covenants, I did so with great conviction. I felt it in my bones.
Thinking about sacrifice, I have to go back to my baptismal covenant. Seek and serve Christ in ALL people. Respect the dignity of EVERY human being. Put my WHOLE trust in God’s grace and love. These are things that all baptized Christians commit to, that I committed to. These are the things where I feel a sacrifice. Every human being? All people? Whole trust?
To do that requires that I sacrifice a little bit of my wise judgment, of my discretion and discernment. Maybe not Every, or Whole, or All. But if I meant those covenants, I need to sacrifice my desire to be relative in my service, respect, love, trust. God does not call me to love some people, but not those on death row, or the 1%. I am not called to trust God when it’s easy, but doubt when my loved one is in crisis.
That’s the sacrifice I feel; it’s living like the Christian I want to be. Today, I will try to notice those times when I’m withholding my trust, love, respect. The call to me to be sacrificial is to really believe those absolute commitments I made. Every human being. All people. Whole trust.
No comments:
Post a Comment