Tuesday, October 29, 2019

I, I, I--a Sermon for Proper 25C

Readings can be found here

25C, 2019, It’s All About Me!

I made this.

I did this.

I deserve this.

I worked for this.

It is I, I, I.

And, if others would work as hard, pray as hard, and be as good…

They too could have all of this.

What I have is to my credit.

My credit.

So, the “have nots”? They have not because of their own fault.

And, I am here behind the gates I have built. Secure in the knowledge of my own superiority.

Backed up by the American mythos of boot-straps and the self-made man.

I don’t need anything!

[pause]

And, this my friends is possibly the most heretical thing every proclaimed from this pulpit.

Because, this, THIS is not the Gospel. This is not the teaching of our tradition. This is not our faith.

Because,

If we have no need, do we have any need of God?

If we have all we long for, will we still long for God?

When our plates, our garages, our attics, our wallets are full…

Is there room for God?

To whom do we give thanks and how?

And, who is declaring who “righteous”?

The self-made man is an idol because by definition this would be someone who lives in denial of God’s presence and advocacy in the world. The self-made man, apart from others, is apart from the body of Christ—a body that includes haves and have nots, a body which needs both God and each other. 

It doesn’t take more than a passing glance at the news, to see a legion of self-made men. To see that we live in the world of the self-righteous rather than the God righteous. When the president or any other politician declares himself right and refuses to admit error, with no regard to the what that self-defined righteousness costs others, we see in HD and streaming the cost of pride and the sin of arrogance. Can you imagine the words, “have mercy on me, a sinner” falling from the lips of any of our political leaders?

Can you imagine saying these words yourself in the face of your own certainty?

Thank God, I am not like…

Not like…

Those that Jesus loves and loves still?

Not like…

Those that God has made?

Not so long ago, Hanna Cooper asked me to start watching the TV show, “The Good Place”—which details the misadventures of a notoriously self-centered woman who has found herself accidently assigned to an afterlife in “the good place”. Desperate to not have anyone find out that she is a fraud, she decides to study moral philosophy and to become, truly, good.

After a life spent acting only for her own good, her new life after death is upended by her dawning awareness of good for the sake of others…

Action, for the sake of others and for the sake of ourselves—grounded in the humility that comes from an awareness of our indebtedness to God and our reliance upon others.  The humility that comes, when we recognize how badly we ourselves are in need of mercy.

We need mercy. From God and from each other, we need mercy.

Demonstrating the intersection of divine mercy and our capacity to extend mercy into the world, Sufi storyteller Idries Shah tells a story in his book,“Tales of the Dervishes”, that explores similar themes of true righteousness, paralleling the Gospel we heard today,

“There was once a dervish devotee who believed that it was his task to reproach those who did evil things and to enjoin upon them spiritual thoughts, so that they might find the right path. [The dervish singled out a compulsive gambler, and each day the dervish placed a stone near the entrance of the house, to remind the gambler of his sin. The devotee enjoyed the pleasure of his 'Godliness' in recording the sins of his neighbor. This went on for twenty years.

Each day the gambler thought,] 'Would that I understand goodness! How that saintly man works for my redemption! Would that I could repent, let alone become like him, for he is sure of a place among the elect when the time of requital arrives!'

And so it happened that, through a natural catastrophe, both men died at the same time. An angel came to take the soul of the gambler, and said to him gently, 'You are to come with me to paradise.'

The gambler protested, saying that the angel must have mixed up his instructions, for he learned that the devotee is destined for roasting on the fiery pit in hell.

'Not so,' said the angel, 'as I shall explain to you. It is thuswise: the devotee has been indulging himself for twenty years with feelings of superiority and merit. Now it is his turn to redress the balance. He really put those stones on that pile for himself, not for you. … You are to be rewarded because, every time you passed the dervish, you thought first of goodness and secondly of the dervish. It is goodness, not man, which is rewarding you for your fidelity.'”

Every time you passed, you thought first of goodness--out of humility, the gambler extends divine mercy by seeing the good in another rather than dwelling in a false sense of righteousness. Trusting in good intentions and out of humility, extending mercy.

Can you imagine, if every time you passed someone in the aisle here, if your first thought was goodness? Can you imagine, if every time you passed someone in halls of power or in the halls of school, you thought of goodness?

Imagine…

Now before I get too much further from these cultural and folk tale references to divine judgement and the afterlife…

I want to be clear that scripture doesn’t actually give us very much to work with when it comes to what comes next. Biblical scholars would be the first to tell you that references to Sheol are meant to invoke the garbage heap outside of town, and theologians would jump in and add that divine judgement can only be understood through the lens of grace and redemption.  

So, what do we know? First of all, love endures all things and that includes death. Secondly, there is new life in Christ. And, then of course there is the reassurance we find in the scriptural assertion that we will not be left comfortless.

But, in our attempts to understand the how and the why of evil in the world, and our desire for some form of divine judgement to befall those we disagree with or dislike, we have imagined the good place and the bad place, we have imagined heaven’s pearly gates and hell’s fiery pit, we have imagined reward and punishment. All of this out of our desire that God would make things “fair” through divine punishment—punishing those whose behavior we ourselves find reprehensible, so that we ourselves can feel self-righteous.

Which causes me to wonder…

Why is accepting God’s love for all so hard to accept? Why is divine mercy a bitter pill to swallow?

But, I digress…

To the question of the righteous.

And, to the question of who declares who righteous…

And, the certainty that,

it is not I.

It is not I.

It is not I.

Amen.



“It’s alright to tell a man to lift himself by his own bootstraps, but it is a cruel jest to say to a bootless man that he ought to lift himself by his own bootstraps.” MLKJr

Affirmation for 23C

Readings for Proper 23C can be found here

Affirmation 




If I were to pick music for the grateful leper, this would be the piece. This simple Taize refrain which pairs gratitude and rejoicing, proclamation and courage.

The Lord is near. At all times and in all places, the Lord is near.

In times of isolation and fear, the Lord is near.

In times of celebration and thanksgiving, the Lord is near.

And, this gives me life. This gives me hope. The message we hear that we are not alone and that the God of our salvation is a God who is present with us. A companion in sorrow, sharing our suffering, loving us to the end. This gives me life.

This gives me hope. Because, in the incarnation, the universal nature of the divine creator is brought home. Brought into this space, into our sphere, into this moment. The one who is far off, is brought near. Today’s readings speak to this intimacy. Elisha’s invitation, “let him come to me”; the Pauline authors repetition of the words, “with me”, the leper’s approach and the Samaritan’s prostration. This is an enfleshed God, who abides. Who shows up with us. Who dwells in our midst.

Again, and again in scripture, we are reminded of God’s abiding presence. Of the fact that nothing can separate us from the love of God and in this, we can boldly claim our power as power derived from compassion and not exploitation. We hear only a part of the Second Letter of Paul to Timothy today, but when read as a whole, we have the opportunity to see that the words we hear today are merely one part of a fervent declaration of who we are. Who we are defined by the love of the God who first loved us.
From the Second Letter of Paul to Timothy, “God did not give us a spirit of cowardice, but rather a spirit of power and of love and of self-discipline.”

How is that for a morning refrain? “God did not give us a spirit of cowardice, but rather a spirit of power and of love and of self-discipline!”

Repeat after me, “God did not give us a spirit of cowardice” …

“but rather” …

“A spirit of power” …

“And of love” …

“And of self-discipline” …

And, yes, I know I’m sounding a bit like a cheerleader here—and yes, I was a pee wee football cheerleader when I was 10.

But, I cannot help it. I cannot help it because the knowledge of God’s presence and power—especially in times when God has felt far off and I have felt powerless—this knowledge has saved me. Saved me from despair. Saved me from apathy. Saved me from giving up, giving up on myself and my fellow human beings.

If we have died with him, we will also live with him;
if we endure, we will also reign with him;

Take that powers of evil in the world! You can try to silence us, you can try to distract us, you can lie, you can cheat…”
“But the word of God is not chained”
The Word of God.
The Word that was in the beginning with God. The word that is Christ. The Word that is us, the body of Christ, declaring once again, that we will not be silent, we will not despair, we will not be defined by the world, because we have been defined by the Word.  
The unchained Word of God, which has brought us and all creation into being.
And to live according to that Word? That my friends, is true freedom.

The only one we bow before is God. The only one to whom we owe our debt, God.

And, because the Lord cannot deny himself, neither can we be denied.

God will have mercy.

And, for this mercy, we give thanks.

This is the mercy that we see extended in the Gospel we heard today. The mercy of a God who releases us from debts and whose Word overrides the authorities of this world.

“Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice. He prostrated himself at Jesus' feet and thanked him. And he was a Samaritan.”

In the first century, it would have been unusual for social equals to thank each other—their social equality would have implied a degree of mutual need and ability and a clear expectation of reciprocity--you scratch my back, I scratch yours.

So, when the Samaritan leper falls at Jesus’ feet in thanksgiving, he is doing more than offering verbal thanks. He is quite literally, offering himself in service, because there is nothing that he can do to properly repay Jesus for his healing.

Jesus’ admonition to get up and go…is an upsetting of the Samaritan leper’s expectations. Not only does Jesus heal him, Jesus releases him. Not only does Jesus release him, he ascribes to the Samaritan leper, power.

Get up and go, your faith has made you well!

Your faith is the offering. Your faith is enough. Your faith is sufficient.

Imagine, the world in which the Samaritan leper lived. He is outcast for his skin disease. Considered impure, he has to live at the margins of society with the other lepers. But, not only is he a leper, he is a foreigner. He lives at the margins of the marginalized. And, yet, here he is and here we are. In an upside-down world where the rules we thought we knew, are overturned and those who’ve been rejected by the world are embraced by the word. The Word of God, creative and liberating, pronouncing a true freedom.

The Samaritan leper doesn’t need to present himself to anyone but God in order to be set free.

We don’t need anyone’s permission to live. We don’t need anyone’s approval to be. We don’t need to wait for the go ahead from me or anyone else in order to turn towards God and transform the world!

How counter-cultural, how anti-authoritarian. How Christian.

How Christian to turn towards Christ in gratitude and offer ourselves in service to his Word.

How Christian to be defined by God’s love for us and not by the hate we may encounter in the world!

Oh to be a Christian and to be free!

Over the past year, Presiding Bishop Michael Curry has championed a rule of life called the “Way of Love”. Turn is one of the seven practices that is espoused in this way.

The Presiding Bishop writes, “With God’s help, we can turn from the powers of sin, hatred, fear, injustice, and oppression toward the way of truth, love, hope, justice, and freedom. In turning, we reorient our lives to Jesus Christ, falling in love again, again, and again.”

Isn’t this what the Samaritan is showing us, an act of turning? An act of turning away from the world that would oppress us and towards a God who will empower us? But it isn’t just the turning. For him and for us, there is the sending. “Go.” Jesus says, “Go.”

Go is another practice in the “Way of Love”. From the Presiding Bishop,

“As Jesus went to the highways and byways, he sends us beyond our circles and comfort, to witness to the love, justice, and truth of God with our lips and with our lives. We go to listen with humility and to join God in healing a hurting world. We go to become Beloved Community, a people reconciled in love with God and one another.

So, turn and go.  Turn and go. In gratitude for the gift, and in service to the world at the behest of the Word.

Repeat after me, “God did not give us a spirit of cowardice” …

“but rather” …

“A spirit of power” …

“And of love” …

“And of self-discipline” …


Amen.