Jul 7 2020 Matthew 23: 13-26

Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you tithe mint, dill, and cumin, and have neglected the weightier matters of the law: justice and mercy and faith. 

Jesus is on a roll, a ‘woe to you’ roll. It’s always hard to meet the crabby or angry Jesus – the Jesus upsetting the tables or asking his followers how they can be so stupid. These are uncomfortable passages to read, and at least for me, my thoughts immediately construct ways that make these bits less convicting. 

One of my go-to justifications is to remember that Jesus was both fully divine and fully human. These angry bits are just Jesus being fully human, occasionally showing our human shortcomings. And while I think there are instances where Jesus portrayed fully human attributes, I’m not sure it’s fair to dismiss his anger and finger wagging as somehow less convicting, because they came from his fully human-ness. 

The other thing that’s easy to do when we read these bits is to rail right along with Jesus. Yeah, you hypocrites! You clean the outside of the cup but the inside is full of filth. Yeah, you’ve neglected justice and mercy and faith!  How dare you! There are certainly times when this feels right. There is often so much broken in the world, so little justice, mercy and faith. 

The risk with joining the rally cry is that we’re so busy agreeing with Jesus’ condemnation of others, we deflect the idea that he’s talking to us. And yes, while there are other hypocrites, others who lack love, justice and mercy, I do too. That’s why these bits are uncomfortable for me to read. I don’t like to think about my culpability in what he’s saying. None of us do. 

Right now in our country, there is a lot of righteous indignation, for absolutely right reasons. And unfortunately, I’ve seen too many instances where those who are most incensed are the ones who are the most hypocritical. Today, Jesus is talking to the scribes and Pharisees who often railed against others. They were deeply religious and felt they had God on their side. And yet, their actions showed a lack of mercy and justice. This sounds to me like some of the modern-day protesters. They are right to be angry and upset with a lack of justice and mercy. But in their zeal, the demonstrate a willingness to dispense with justice and mercy against those who they’re protesting. 

To be clear, I am not condoning the actions of racists or supremacists; I condemn the actions of racists or supremacists. And as a person of faith, I have to hear Jesus talking to me, challenging me to not be a hypocrite. To love, show mercy, have faith, and be just. Even to the people intentionally or unintentionally perpetuating horrible injustices. 

This is hard stuff, this righteous indignation. Jesus can do it, because at the end of the day, he loved all. Forgive them Father, for they know not what they do. When we fallible humans are swept up in that same fervor, we risk becoming like the Pharisees, hypocritical in our meting out justice and mercy and love. 

This morning, I’m thinking about sitting with these hard sayings from Jesus, and what they mean to me and about me, before I join the angry voices, crying out with Jesus. 

Jul 4 2020 Matthew 22: 23-40

You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.” This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like it: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.”

 

Love God. Love your Neighbor. So simple. Yet not easy. Today is the 4th of July, and reading through the Declaration of Independence, I’m reminded that we’re facing the same challenges today, as back then. All people, although created equal, are not treated equal. We do not all have the same access to life, to liberty, to the pursuit of happiness. 

Love God. Love your neighbor. When you consider that love is an active verb, not a sentiment, I wonder what the world would look like if we all tried to do that. Love God. Love our neighbor. Empathize with our neighbor. Remember they are someone’s child, or father, or beloved. That Antifa rioter? Beloved. That cop? Beloved. Those college kids at the Corona Parties? Beloved. Whoever it is who gets under your skin, or on your last nerve? Love them too. Our only chance at loving our neighbors – all of them – is to first love God. And to remember that we are equally loved by God. With that over-abundant love from God, we have love to share. Even with the unlovable. 

This morning, I’m thinking about what it would look like if we loved our neighbor. All of our neighbors. How could we do that? And what would it look like in these pandemic, charged times?

And now a personal note. I’ve been more absent from writing than I’d planned, and that’s the result of several converging things. Last week, my bicycle needed to go in for new brakes. With over 9,000 miles logged in the past 3 years, a heavy bike, and two big hills on my commute to work, I go through brake pads and rotors several times a year. With the pandemic, bike shops in Portland are swamped, and they’ve had my bike for a week. My regular 35 minute bike commute became a 10 minute car commute. So in the morning, instead of sitting in front of my computer, in addition to the hours I’d sit in front of my computer at work, I elected to throw in some other exercise, including yoga and long walks. I still prayed Morning Prayer, as our staff gathers every morning for 20 minutes for that practice. But I opted to move my body in the morning instead of writing. I say this because I’m generally an all-or-nothing kind of gal. If I committed to write daily, I write daily. If I miss one day, I’ve failed and I quit. But I’m working on moderation. I intend to write frequently, nearly daily, maybe daily. But if I don’t, I’ll return and write again, rather than quit. 

The other thing that’s happened is that I picked up the book, “How to Break up with Your Phone”. Between a new watch that logs my activity (which I love), and a day job that has me in front of a computer, I did not need to be spending time on my phone. The book begins with lots of research about how and why we’re so compelled by our phones and the apps they contain. It’s entirely contrived and we are absolutely manipulated. As a result, I’ve made some changes on my phone, which have resulted in changes in my behavior. No more social media apps, no more games. What that means is that when I post something, I’m not sucked back into the cycle of checking to see who’s liked or commented. I love comments, and I appreciate the feedback. And I will read it all and appreciate it deeply.  And without the immediacy of a phone app, I’m a little more hesitant to get back on the computer when I get home, from being on the computer all day. So my online presence may be moderated as well. 

Instead of sneaking peeks online during the day, I’ll take a walk, or sit quietly, or stretch, or pray. When I get online to write or review, I’ll fully be online, to write or review. 

So thank you, for accompanying me on my journey towards moderation. It’s only taken me 50+ years, and I’m still working on it!