Sunday, August 17, 2014
Proper 15 A - Speak from your heart August 17
The psalm today says, “How good when kindred live together in unity”. What a lovely concept. And what a difficult thing to actually do. Don’t get me wrong. I love my family, both the family that raised me, and the family I’m raising. And, they both make me crazy sometimes.
How good it is when kindred live together in unity. Yikes. This is one of those scriptural passages that actually makes me a little anxious. I know it’s true, and yet it’s so hard.
Your kindred know you well enough to really really know you, inside and out. They know what’s good, and they know all of your weaknesses. And when kindred don’t live together in unity, that incredible and intimate knowledge of each other opens us up to be very vulnerable. They know our weaknesses. And we know theirs.
Siblings betray one another. They lie to one another. Parents, no matter how much they love their children, do things to hurt or control them and each other, well beyond what good parenting would demand. And don’t get me started on the trouble children can cause. Unity is not an easy place to stay, within a family, with all the moving parts and emotions and vulnerabilities.
And yet, scripture points us to an ideal when kindred live together in unity. It feels like my understanding of how all families work puts the unity factor over here and the vision in scripture is over here.
How do we bridge that?
I know what doesn’t bridge that gap. We don’t live in unity, simply by a lack of trouble, by sweeping problems under the rug, or dreaming of the ideal family where there is no weeping or gnashing of teeth. Kindred living together in unity isn’t a place absent any pain or sorrow.
Just look at the continuing story of Joseph’s family we’ve heard throughout the summer. A quick recap of his poor life. He’s a braggart, and actually kind of obnoxious. His eleven brothers, plus his often overlooked sister Dinah, made famous by her starring role in the book, The Red Tent, were jealous of him, as he was his father’s favorite, despite being the brown-nosing, tattle telling son. His father gave him a multi-colored cloak, which sent the brothers on an envious rampage. They were originally going to kill him, but ended up selling him into slavery, and returning home to tell their father he had died. Joseph is now enslaved by Potipher, with no kindred around him, and his story takes some even more dramatic twists.
Joseph got crosswise with Potipher, due to unwelcome romantic advances from his Potipher’s wife, and her conniving lies she told Potipher to harm Joseph. He was put in jail. There he continued having fantastical dreams that had caused envy with his bothers, and interpreting his dreams and the dreams of others. About that time the Egyptian Pharaoh was being tormented by bad dreams, and Joseph was called upon to help, and interpreted Pharaoh’s dreams. Pharaoh trusted Joseph and his interpretations, and because of that, Egypt was saved through a 7 year famine, while most of the region suffered greatly.
The same drought was plaguing Israel, and Joseph’s brothers had heard that the Pharaoh had food when few did. They headed to Egypt to beg for food, not knowing that their brother Joseph was key to Egypt’s abundance. They appear before brother Joseph, and although they don’t recognize him, Joseph recognizes his brothers.
After some trickery from Joseph to see what the brothers’ intentions are, we come to today’s reading. Joseph finally reveals himself to them, and they are overcome with joy. The author says they cried on each other’s necks. I like that image, because I’ve done that, where you cry so freely that it runs down the neck of the one you’re embracing. Those are unfettered tears.
This, I would suggest, is the unity of kindred living together in the midst of trials, tribulations, deceit, murderous intent, jealousy, embarrassment, and rage. And yet, they experience a sweet reunion. It’s not the absence of trouble in families that make unity. Everyone, every family has trouble.
Joseph says something during this reunion that gives us some insight as to how to bridge that gap, how to live in unity despite trials. He basically says that the brothers are not to blame for all of his turmoil. Rather, God is to thank. Several times he says “God sent me”. God turned something horrible, into something good.
Joseph, despite the troubles seemingly caused by the brothers was able to use that moment to praise God, to thank God for the circumstances, and was able to see how God used it for good. I wonder whether during the days in the pit where his brothers left him, or the days in the prison, or the moments when he realized he had been betrayed and deceived, I wonder if he had doubts, or fear, or anger. And during dark times, he certainly couldn’t have known that all would work out for good. But eventually good time came for Joseph.
And then come Joseph’s brothers. No matter how good things had become, it’s hard to let bygones be bygones when they show up in your court asking for help. But Joseph utters not a single bitter angry blaming word. God sent me. It wasn’t you. With those simple words out of his mouth, he effectively takes the brothers out of the equation. You brothers are not to blame. God is to be thanked. Besides, we are together now. Let me cry on your neck.
At that moment, when he revealed himself to his brothers, he had a choice. He could have said something reflecting the anger and bitter that would have been perfectly justified. You did this to me. I’m not going to help you now. Instead, he offered consoling, loving, forgiving solace. “Do not be angry or distressed with yourselves.”
This is what I take from today’s Gospel. Joseph had a moment where he had a decision about how to express himself. A negative blaming response could have resulted in a very different ending to the story. Blame and anger would not have resulted in kindred living in unity with each other. Instead, he chose to say something affirming and loving, and unifying. Not because his life had been all sunshine and rainbows. But because at that moment, he chose unity and love over righteous indignation and hate. It’s not what happened to Joseph, what his brothers did to him, what Potipher’s wife did to him, that defined or defiled him. It is what came out of his heart and out of his mouth. It’s not what happens to us, or what we put in our mouth. It’s what we do and say that matters, despite any of that.
As Jesus tells the disciples, It’s not what goes into the body that defiles, Jesus says. I would offer that it’s also not what happens to the body that defiles. It’s what comes out of the mouth that defiles, because that comes straight from your heart. Out of the heart, Jesus continues, come evil intentions.
Joseph did not let what happened to him define or defile him. He did not let it turn into evil intentions and show itself as evil speech. Instead, he spoke love and forgiveness, despite what happened. And what he said to his brothers changed everything.
In Joseph’s story, despite the twists and turns, they end up crying on each other’s necks. It ends well. Interestingly, in situations where there is an oppressor and oppressed, or victim and victor, the person who’s in the position of power, the person who’s wronged someone else has little ability to make all right. The power rests with the victim, with the oppressed. Only they have the power to reconcile everything. The oppressor may seek reconciliation, but without the assent or consent of the victim, it can never happen.
Think of the Canaanite woman. In their time, she was the ultimate outsider. She’s approached Jesus for food. She acknowledges him as Lord, kneeling at his feet. Jesus originally shoes her away, because his mission is to work with the people Israel. He dismisses her, and she responds, in her kneeling, lowly position in another brilliant example of what comes from the heart. She says, yes lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table. In front of everyone, this kneeling, contrite outsider respectfully and persistently speaks a truth to Jesus that causes him to change his mind. She doesn’t run away. She doesn’t succumb. Even there, she acknowledges his position, and speaks a truth from her heart that she believes he’ll understand. She, from this position of weakness, changes everything by what comes out of her mouth – with respect, with challenges, and ultimately with success.
Today, Presiding Bishop Katharine Jefferts Schori has asked for the entire Episcopal Church to pray for the people of Iraq and the middle-east, who are living in fear for their lives and livelihoods, in the face of fierce prosecution, the looting of churches, businesses and homes, and the displacement of thousands under threat of death.
As children of Abraham, we are all kindred – Muslim, Jew and Christian. What is happening by and to other children of God is atrocious, and yet it is so far away, and so hard to comprehend, it’s easy to be apathetic or to feel so removed that we feel irrelevant.
Closer to home, race tensions are mounting because of the tragic shooting of Michael Brown in Ferguson Missouri. During college, in the 1980’s I worked in the desegregation office of the St. Louis Public Schools, because they were under federal court order to desegregate, in the 1980’s. I know the tension that existed then. I can only imagine the tension that exists today. And it spills into our community. An ACLU meeting earlier this week in Eugene on racial profiling was very charged. What happens in Ferguson affects us. It should affect us. They are our kindred. The police in Ferguson. The African American community in Ferguson. The Iraqi children. The children crossing the border.
It is not what happens to us that defiles us. It is not what happens to our brothers and sisters around the country or around the world that defiles. It’s what comes out of our mouths. Or, what doesn’t.
Now is the time to speak up about what is happening, and what we wish would be happening instead. From your heart. Jefferts Schori asks that we “Pray that all God’s children might live in hope, of the world of peace for which we were created” Speak and pray for peace, from a place of love and respect. Like Joseph. Like the Canaanite woman.
In a little while, we will pray for the church and the world. I will be praying for the grace to speak peace and light, to let good graceful intentions come out of my mouth, regardless of what happens. I will be praying for the children in the middle east, and for people who feel they are victimized by the police. Take a moment to think about what you will be pray for, either silently or aloud. Speak out. Create unity. Speak life from your heart.
As Psalm 19 says, “May the words of my mouth, and the meditations of my heart be acceptable to you, O Lord”
Amen
Saturday, July 5, 2014
Proper 9A - July 6, 2014
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)