Oct 2 2019 Matthew 7: 13-21

The gate is wide and the road is easy that leads to destruction, and there are many who take it. The gate is narrow and the road is hard that leads to life, and there are few who find it.
Next to the Bible, I find a good amount of good theology in the Harry Potter books. Albus Dumbledore. Or maybe the author used the same primary source as I did. I’m not sure, but Dumbledore had a great quote, that summarized this well, and now millions of people have heard it. Looking ahead to the troubles he and Harry were facing, he told Harry, “Dark Times lie ahead of us, and there will be a time when we must choose between what is easy, and what is right.”

Hmm. Easy, wide path leading to destruction. Right, narrow gate that leads to life. And between the two, stand us, having to choose.

It’s as if these choices between right and wrong, life and destruction are set up in an like mini-golf, and the there are two choices to get to the hole. One looks easy, and the other is full of obstacles. Human nature will always aim for the simple strait path. The challenge, I think is that when faced with an easy wide path, or narrow hard path, we loose sight of the end-game, and simply think about the journey. Regardless of where it leads, we choose easy, losing sight of where it leads.

It seems that with the complexities of life, it only makes sense for us to try to go for easy, whenever possible. I’m always looking for an easier, more efficient way to do most everything. What if I’m inadvertently but persistently choosing easy or right, as Dumbledore said, or wide path versus hard road, in Jesus’ words?

There must be a reason why we’re wired for easy, when that’s definitely not always the right choice. This is especially true if you’re trying to be mindful during life. My preference would likely be to walk on an easy path, being thoughtful about the simplicity of that path, rather than to pick the difficult narrow path. It’s much easier to stop and smell the flowers along the way if it’s a simpler walk.

All of this is to say that I’m troubled by the idea that what’s easy and simple isn’t inherently right. It means that when faced with a choice between something easy and not so easy, I must keep my eye on the destination. If I’m focused too much on the journey, then I can, and probably will, pick the simpler, easy path. It’s easier to smell roses on that path, and life is hard enough already. 

This morning, I’m thinking about how focusing too much on the journey allows me to blithely and obliviously pick the easier path, that leads away from what I really want. In Jesus’ terms, I want to choose life, over destruction, every time. In Dumbledore’s, I want to choose what’s right. Knowing that my gut reaction will likely be for what’s easy, I need to focus on the end. Love God. Love your neighbor. Keep my eyes on that, and maybe I’ll be ok.

Oct 1 2019 Matthew 7:1-12

Why do you see the speck in your neighbor's eye, but do not notice the log in your own eye? Or how can you say to your neighbor, 'Let me take the speck out of your eye,' while the log is in your own eye?

Jesus is schooling his disciples on all things Love. This is the section of Matthew that is rich with pithy comments about love and judgment. Ask, and you shall receive. Do not throw pearls to swine. It concludes with the Golden Rule, do unto others, as you would have them do to you. I am grateful for the opportunity to sit with these dense readings multiple times, in morning prayer, during regular Sunday Eucharists. This is why I can read and meditate on the same section repeatedly; what strikes me about Scripture is entirely driven by the world around me, where I find myself today, and where the Spirit is pointing. Today, it’s the opening statements that deal with judgment and hypocrisy.

I’m struck by the disparity of things stuck in eyes. In my neighbor, there might be a speck. Specks are small, although in your eye, a speck is sufficiently problematic. But, Jesus says, don’t even bother noticing the speck in your neighbor’s eye, when you have a log in your eye. This has always struck me as absurd, being as literal and concrete as I have been. How could a log be in my eye? The image in my head is kind comical. But immature concreteness aside, it is striking that the language Jesus uses is so excessive, there must be something to this. It’s not that I have a bigger speck in my eye that I should notice. No, it’s a log.

In the past, I’ve dismissed this reading because of the absurdity of the log. But this morning, I’m sitting with that log. Why a log? Why that big? Of course I would notice a log in my eye! And if I really had a log in my eye, how could I bother to care about anyone else’s specks? 

Maybe that’s the point. Our own foibles and shortcomings are like an unnoticed log in the eye. First, they blind us to what’s going on. We can’t see clearly, past our own problems. Not only that, like a log protruding from someone’s eye, our foibles and shortcomings are clearly visible to others, certainly to God. And yet, with those ginormous personal shortcomings, we dole out advice and judgment about others. If my baggage is both as blinding and unseen to me, while obvious to others as a log in my eye, I should be way more cautious about handing out pronouncements and judgements about others.

This morning, I’m thinking about Jesus’ use of exaggerated language, and how rather than dismissing it as absurd, I should pay closer attention, precisely because of its scale.