28A, Good luck with that

The readings can be found here

Blessed Lord, who caused all holy Scriptures to be written for our learning: Grant us so to hear them, read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest them, that we may embrace and ever hold fast the blessed hope of everlasting life, which you have given us in our Savior Jesus Christ; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

 

Every single time, the collect for the day tells us to read, mark, and inwardly digest…I know what’s coming. 

 

Seriously, when I begin my review of the propers, the readings assigned for each Sunday, I begin with the Collect of the day.

 

It’s the prayer that sets our hearts and collects our thoughts in anticipation of the readings to come. So, when all the collect gives us is “read, mark, and inwardly digest”…

 

What I hear is, “good luck with that.”

 

And…

 

I laugh. I laugh because here we are, and this all feels so unbelievably impossible and awful. We are in the middle of a pandemic, case rates are increasing, deaths, likewise, increasing, we are all trying to figure out how to be thankful at Thanksgiving without killing anyone we love, Christmas is around the corner, and we still don’t have scientifically grounded federal guidelines on best practices for mitigating the spread of Covid-19. Sort of like laughing at a funeral, not because you’re not sad but because it’s all so much and your brain can’t quite handle the scope of it all and how heartbroken you are…I laugh. 

 

This is so awful it feels, honestly, absurd. 

 

So, ‘bout those scriptures.

 

Yeah. 

 

Read, mark, and inwardly digest that suckers!          

 

You should see the discussions about these texts in clergy social media groups…the VanGogh themed emoji of “the scream” comes into play…often.

 

But, behind the humor there is real concern. Real concern that, in the midst of our communities’ crisis (yes, that’s the plural) these texts will do more harm then good. Real concern, in the midst of our pain, that these passages may do damage to our souls. Real concern, for how and where to find God’s grace, even now—ESPECIALLY NOW.

 

You may remember, from sermons I’ve preached here in the past, how important it is for us to remember who we are and to whom we belong as beloved children of God. Not as some form of self-serving, self-help, psycho babble, but as a means by which we can withstand temptation and find the strength we need to face the challenges that confront us in life. 

 

So, today I offer, from the Gospel of Matthew some reminders...

 

From chapter 5 of the Gospel of Matthew, “Blessed are the poor, those who mourn, those who are meek, those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, the merciful, the pure in heart, the peacemakers, the persecuted, and the reviled” 

 

Then there is this, from chapter 9, “Go and learn what this means, “I desire mercy not sacrifice” for I have come to call not the righteous but sinners” 

 

And, in chapter 10, “whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me...whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple--truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward” 

 

Finally, words of comfort in chapter 11, “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls” 

 

Ummm, set against this backdrop, the Gospel we hear today seems incongruous. So, what happens? Why was this particular parable important to the community out of which it emerged? Where did they, and where might we find grace in the midst of a passage that concludes with the outer darkness where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth? 

 

To begin to unpack this parable we need to take a look at the context in which it was written. Biblical scholar and theologian, John Dominic Crossan in “The Power of Parable: How Fiction by Jesus Became Fiction About Jesus”, writes that the escalation of violence in Matthew stems from a conflict in Judaism between Christian-Jewish scribes and Pharaisaic Jewish Scribes.  

 

Crossan holds that Matthew crafts these “attack parables” in response to this conflict, and that the authentic voice of Christ is twisted to Matthew’s purpose. Crossan validates his theory by cross referencing the material in the Gospel of Matthew with that in the Gospel of Mark. Mark, which was the first Gospel to be composed, does not include this style of attack parable. (193-194) 

 

Using this interpretation, we can describe this parable as a product of conflict and not of Christ. 

 

A product of conflict and not of Christ. Hmmm, I want to sit with that for a minute. 

 

This feels important. 

 

What if we understand part of our inherited tradition to be that of people using scripture as a means to their own ends, instead of God’s ends? What if we recognize, in our sacred text, that it is our own desires being expressed instead of God’s desires? What if, we turn a critical eye to what we “think” we know, and listen to what the Spirit is trying to tell us? What if we stop seeing every single angry, old, man in scripture as somehow analogous to the God of love and liberation? What if this parable isn’t about the reign of God but rather, is about our assumptions about the reign of God?

 

What is scripture saying about us, and what is scripture saying about God?

 

I know I am treading into tender places here. Many of us were raised and formed to accept scripture as the inherited word of God, as infallible and unquestionable—and when we start to question what feel like inconsistencies or hypocrisies in the text, many of us tend to do one of two things: double down on scriptural infallibility OR throw the whole thing out.  

 

But, there is another way. The middle way of textual study which challenges and questions the text. Challenges and questions not to prove our own, already decided upon and conclusive, point—but to learn, grow, and discern where God’s grace is being made manifest in the text and how we are called to participate, in the here and the now, in the manifestation of that grace to the world.  

 

Knowing this, where is the grace in the passage we heard proclaimed today? 

 

In seminary, we were encouraged to consider scripture from the perspective of the oppressed rather then the powerful. The peasant class amongst Matthew’s audience would have seen in this description of the master, a description of systems where wealthy landowners benefit from the labor of the poor. They also would have seen, in the first two men, a depiction of those who had “sold out” to the proverbial “man” and participated in the exploitation of their own people. This parable depicts a human fiefdom in which a wealthy and capricious ruler accumulates wealth by sowing conflict and division within a context of punishment and fear.

 

Does any of this resonate with our own reality? I hazard that the answer is, “yes”. Because human kingdoms, however they are defined, have a tendency to centralize wealth in the hands of the few. Those in positions of power have created and maintained laws and systems which, all too often, favor the few over the many. We have tax codes which have advantaged the extremely wealthy, and we have systems and institutions that perpetuate poverty from generation to generation. We are very familiar with governmental systems which allow those in positions of power to reap what they did not sow and gathering what they did not winnow. We are also familiar with how tempting it can be to participate in our own exploitation when our participation gives us the benefits of the master’s largesse. We are familiar with how fear is levied to divide us and distract us from our calling.

 

So, as I unpack this text, as I study and pray, it becomes clearer to me that this parable does not describe God or God’s kingdom—it describes us and the systems we have created and maintained. And, in this the threat is not some outer darkness where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth, the threat is us. The threat is our greed. The threat is our fear. The threat is our despair. This parable is not a description of God or God’s kingdom—it is a warning about our own kingdoms and an encouragement to find a better way.

 

A way that serves the purpose of our loving God. Next week, we will be celebrating the Feast of St. Clement’s on Christ the King Sunday. The Gospel appointed for next week, contains the verses which immediately follow those verses we heard proclaimed today, 

 

Listen,

 

“Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.’ Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?’ And the king will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.’”

 

So what if today’s Gospel is the what is—and next week’s is the what could be?

 

Read, mark, inwardly digest—and remember that the context of this parable within the text seats it in the midst of reminders of God’s mercy, compassion, and love and the encouragement to participate in the life giving and salvific work of God in the world. 

 

Read, mark and inwardly digest this text—so that we may embrace and hold fast the blessed promise of everlasting life. 

 

Amen.