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Sermon:  January 22, 2012

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Go in Grace and Peace

New Years Day 2012 

 

Dear hearers of the Word: Grace and peace are yours from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ in whose spirit we live and move and have our being. And I ain’t just whistlin’ “Dixie.”

      Grace and peace are “churchy words”, words that we ordinary folks don’t often use out in the “real world.”  Churchy words… therefore empty words in the minds of many. Which is a great tragedy because grace and peace, above all, are what God offers to you and me in the Word that God has spoken to us through Jesus Christ – the Word that is Christ.

     Grace and peace make up the environment in which you and I live and move and have our being. That’s what God promises to God’s children.  Yet that promise can seem so empty when we look around at what’s happening in the world, and in our daily lives. 

Peace seems so far from reality in Afghanistan and Syria, Egypt and Israel.  Iran and the US are trading dire threats against each other. Our country is so politically polarized barely 1 in 10 people approve of the work being done by congress in Washington.  Nearly every family has to deal with some sort of tension in their relationships. Grace and peace are yours?! It’s all too easy to conclude that it’s a lie. 

     To be sure not everything is doom and gloom in our lives. Certainly we’ve had much to celebrate this season.  Many of us have enjoyed good times with family and friends this past week.  Snow has been scarce but so have icy roads.  Most of us enjoy relatively good health. And the overabundance of good things to eat has caused many of us to make that annual New Years resolution to lose some weight in the next few months.

     Grace and peace, as we think of those concepts, have not been completely absent. Most of us could describe our lives as having mixed blessings – some good, some not so good.It’s that mixture that troubles us. There’s a sense among us that, if we try to be faithful Christians, regular church goers, there ought to be some immediate reward; and our worship should reflect that.  As one of my sermon helpers put it, “Church should be beautiful and joyful.” As another lamented not long ago, “I want to sing hymns, pray prayers and hear sermons that make me feel good.” They’re bold enough to give voice to what we all want – if not from life, at least from our involvement with a congregation.  This should be a true sanctuary, a place of escape, of rest, of safety, of comfort and joy and peace. This should be a place where I can forget all my troubles, if only for an hour a week.

     I suppose that’s what makes disputes within the church so upsetting.  That desire for at least one place of peace and good will among all people is so strong that when it doesn’t always happen, our disappointment can turn into anger, our lack of unconditional love for one another can turn into hatred, the absence of uniform agreement can harden into division.  That promise of grace can be silenced by the thunder of bible bombs each faction throws at the others. That gift of peace can be rejected as faithful people turn their backs on other faithful people – while the world looks on and says, “Why bother listening to them?”

     The greatest need all people have is the need to know and trust the source from where all our needs are met.  Grace will not come in its purity from any human institution whether from the governments we establish or from the churches we organize.  Peace can never begin with me, because my version of peace may involve the absence of peace for those with whom I disagree.

     Paul’s letter to the Galatians echoes the gospel truth that God told Aaron to speak in the wilderness. Good news so clear and so radical that it seems beyond any truth we could understand or believe.  God blesses you and keeps you, loves you and gives you peace – no conditions, nothing required to qualify. At the birth of Jesus, Paul writes, “the fullness of time has come.”  Everything that must be done for grace and peace to prevail in the world and among all people has been accomplished. As one pastor has put it, God’s “unconditional, unmerited, universal, relentless and eternal grace” has come into the world – and for the world – in Jesus. Grace that has the power to stand up to human frailty and unbelief. Peace that will not fail though people still insist upon dividing into armed camps.

     Pastor Ennis continues: “Grace is the foundational message and the centerpiece of Christian theology.  The only validation necessary has already taken place on the cross through the sacrificial and redemptive love of God in Christ.” None of this comes as a result of our own effort – grace is a gift.  Theologian Paul Tillich encourages us to understand that grace comes as though a voice were saying, “You are accepted by that which is greater than you.  Do not seek for anything, do not perform anything, do not intend anything.  Simply accept the fact that you are accepted…nothing is demanded of this experience, no religious or moral or intellectual proposition, nothing but acceptance.”

    Grace and peace come not from the world we live in but from God who has entered the world in which we live – a world that contains a mixture of grace and peace as well as cruelty and conflict. As the Christmas carol says, “The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight.” The whole gospel story proclaims that hope will prevail over fear.

 

 

     Old Simeon knew that truth.  “I can go now,” he said.  “I can die in peace; for in this infant child I have seen the fulfillment of God’s promise of salvation for all.”  The strife will go on, struggle and pain and grief will continue – for God and for us – but the outcome is certain.  God wins – grace wins, peace is ours because it comes from God. That’s the promise of Christmas.  That’s the Word of God that is Jesus Christ. Go in peace – because God goes with you.  

 

 

Being Held By Christmas

Christmas Eve 2011 

 

One of the privileges of being a pastor is that I get to baptize babies. The most important part of that ceremony is, of course, the baptism itself.  God’s name and the child’s name merge into one as those names are pronounced together in the same breath.  Water - that most important, life-giving and life-taking substance – is splashed upon the child’s brow.  In that moment, that child is adopted by God, made a child of God and a member of the church, the body of Christ.

 

 

 

     The baptism itself is the most important part of the ceremony.  But the part I love is the end – when I carry that child into the midst of the congregation and let you have a closer look at the newest member of our Peace Lutheran family. I love that part because I can see your faces light up with joy and peace as you look at that baby.In those few precious moments, we forget all our fears, ignore all our pains, overlook all our struggles with family, friends or neighbors.  Our focus is solely on that child, the innocence he embodies, the joy he creates in us, the hope she represents for us.

 

 

 

     And when we think about it, we realize that we haven’t made any effort to produce that spirit of peaceful innocence and joy and hope within us.  Those feelings have come as gifts through the presence of that child. In the moments that we gaze upon her, all the burdens weighing us down have been lifted; anxiety and sadness disappear like morning fog that evaporates in the warm light of the rising sun.

 

 

     That’s the same experience that Christmas brings. That’s the promise that Christmas represents.  That’s the truth that Christmas proclaims – not just for a fleeting moment – but for all time.  In Jesus, God has hit the streets and become one of us, one with us, one for us. God enters our lives as we enter our lives: vulnerable and weak and fragile – and needy. God connects with us in a way that we can be certain that God understands us and cares for us.

 

 

 

     There’s always a tension at Christmas.  Tension between how we experience life out there as it often is – demanding, exhausting, chaotic, difficult, saddening – and the life we seek– peaceful, comforting, loving, joyful.  Those who especially feel heavy burdens at this time of the year might even skip our time of worship together, because the contrast between what is and what we hope for is just too great to bear.

 

 

 

     Like a baby, that promise of Christmas is fragile.  Like a baby, that proclamation of peace on earth too easily can be lost. We spend an hour or two in worship; but then we’ll step back into “real life” and be met again with all the burdens we had left for a short time.  All the peace and joy and comfort of this night can be overwhelmed by the cold light of day.

 

 

 

     Why does God do it this way?  Why would God choose to enter our lives as a weak, vulnerable newborn human being?  Why would God choose such unlikely parents and such an obscure birth in such an unimportant country?  And why would God choose shepherds - poor, smelly, lowly shepherds - as the first evangelists, the first human voices of that news?  It seems a story tailor-made to be ignored by those who deal with the world as it is.  It seems a story for those who like tales of magic, stories for people who don’t care if the story is true as long as it makes them feel good for awhile.

 

 

 

    Why does God deal with us this way?  So that we can hear that the truth about our lives is deeper than any truth that this world can offer.  And so that we realize that the life we already live is more precious than we can ever know.  As David Lose comments: “..these lives we’ve so carefully created, this world we work so hard to manage are beautiful, precious and wonderful…but also vulnerable, fragile and ultimately insufficient.”

 

 

 

     As a baby, Jesus awakens a desire to love in ways that reach beyond ourselves to seek the goodness in others, for others and for the world in which we live. As an adult, Jesus provides the assurance that this life isn’t all there is to life – that weeping may last for the night; but joy comes in the light of the new day.

 

 

 

     When I walk down that center aisle, holding the child – there’s a sense in which we all hold her, we all love him, we all lose ourselves, as David Miller writes: “…in the transcendent power of loving and being loved.” That’s the transforming power of Christmas.  That’s the staying power that can keep us going when we leave this place to live our lives out there.

 

 

 

     We can’t stay here, holding the baby. We can’t stay here in the quiet peace, the comforting warmth and the gentle joy of this night. We don’t have to.  For the truth of the Christmas story and all the stories of that baby to follow is that our hope doesn’t lie only in the brief moment we hold that baby tonight, but in the eternal promise that that baby holds us – and will never let us go.  

 

 

Preparing for Peace

 12/4/11 

 

“Comfort, O comfort my people,” God tells Isaiah.  “Tell them that their strife is over.” The ups and downs of their lives will be leveled out.  The rough patches they have hit will be smoothed over. No longer will their lives be so uncertain, filled with difficulty, weighed down by anxiety over what will happen next. There will come a time when they will see my glory and all will be well; everyone will be at peace. Comforting words; words that lower the blood pressure, relax the tension, ease the soul.

 

 

But Isaiah’s words don’t end there. They’re immediately followed by the voice that says, “Cry out.” The prophet asks, “What shall I cry?” And the voice responds, “All people are like grass.”  They’re inconstant in their faith, unfaithful in their deeds, unreliable in their commitments.

 

 

There are times when God’s Word seems like a whipsaw, batting us one way then drawing us back the other way.  “Tell them that their strife is over,” God says through Isaiah.  But then 2^nd Peter says “strive to be found at peace.”  On the one hand there’s the promise: “The struggle is over.”  On the other hand, there’s a command: “Struggle for peace.” The fight is over.  Fight – for peace.  Sounds like an oxymoron doesn’t it? Fight – for peace. Two words joined together that seem opposite of each other. Like “jumbo shrimp."

 

 

Comfort my people – with the discomforting reminder that they are frail, inconstant, unreliable, short-lived.  There’s no doubt that the people of Isaiah’s day needed comforting. They were exiles, living in a foreign land, subject to a foreign power that neither shared their values nor believed in their God.  The people of Peter’s day were being persecuted by non-Christians and politically oppressed by the Romans. 

 

 

They weren’t alone in their need for comfort.  How much more can we endure? One war is winding down, but the prospect of a peaceful future in Iraq is very uncertain. Another war continues in Afghanistan; and who knows how long the allies can stick together in the face of so many complex issues troubling that part of the globe?  Overwhelming numbers of starving and sometimes homeless children wander the planet including our own back yard.  The gap between the very rich and the rest of society grows at an exponential rate.  Polarized, uncompromising ideologies threaten to paralyze our government and have surfaced lately even within the church. The list of threats to peace and burdens that weigh down our joy could go on and on.

 

 

We all long for the promise of comfort, the prospect of peace – of wholeness, of shalom. We wait for Jesus to come again and remove our burdens once and for all.  We wait for that “day of the Lord” as Peter calls it. We’ve been waiting a long time.  Some college students complained to their campus pastor that it’s embarrassing to mention Jesus’ second coming because so many of their friends use the long delay as an example of why they don’t believe that God even exists. That opinion isn’t found only among college students of course. That seemingly long delay causes even the most faithful to become “Scarlett Ohara Christians.”  “I’ll think about it tomorrow,” we tell ourselves.

 

 

The season of Advent – a time when we focus on Jesus’ coming – encourages us to think about tomorrow today.  We’re pretty good at thinking about tomorrow today in terms of preparing for Christmas, Jesus’ first coming.  But that’s just preparing to remember yesterday’s event on a future tomorrow.  Preparation for Jesus’ second coming, thinking about a tomorrow that will end all of our yesterday’s and profoundly change all of our today’s,  is barely on anyone’s radar. That’s understandable in a way.  No one has any knowledge or had any experience with events that will end all events.

 

 

No one has any knowledge – except God himself.  In Jesus, the end has already begun. And when he returns, the end will be complete. Henri Nouwen writes that Christianity is mostly a future-oriented faith. We live our lives today in the light of what God has promised for tomorrow. Nouwen writes:“…you are Christian only so long as you look forward to a new world, so long as you constantly pose questions to the society you live in, so long as you emphasize the need for conversion both for yourself and for the world, so long as you stay unsatisfied with the status quo and keep saying that the new world is yet to come. You are a Christian only when you believe that you have a role to play in the realization of this new kingdom…So long as you live as a Christian you keep looking for a new order, a new structure, a new life.” 

 

 

We may be grass – inconstant, unfaithful, unreliable, short-lived; but God is not.  “The grass withers, the flower fades, but the Word of God will stand forever.” 

 

 

We may be grass – but we’re God’s grass. We prepare for peace tomorrow by being peaceful today.  We prepare for Christ’s coming by taking care of the things and the people God has given us today.  We prepare not by working like crazy but by being a little crazy – living in a way that anticipates the fulfillment of a promise made thousands of years ago.  We prepare by using the gifts God has given us for God’s purposes: living the story of his love for the world through Jesus Christ.  We prepare by going beyond the boundaries where we think God is into the wilderness of where God seems not to be – the deserts of indifference, the wastelands of ignorance, the rough countries of selfishness and hatred, the backwoods of discrimination and oppression of the weak. We prepare for peace, knowing that its only source is the God who has been revealed in Jesus Christ. The Christ who died.  The Christ who is risen.  The Christ who will come again.

 

 

No Waiting

11/27/11 

 

Readings such as the one we just heard from Mark’s gospel often remind me of that classic, often repeated cartoon.  You know the one:  a hairy man with an other-worldly look in his eyes, dressed in sandals and a robe shuffling down a city street with a sign board over his shoulders that says “Repent, for the end is at hand.” It’s a cartoon – a joke – real enough to interest us; ridiculous enough to amuse us.It has enough reality because we’ve seen this before. 

 

 

 

There have been warnings about the end of the world, I think, since humans began gathering in cities. A generation ago, it was Hal Lindsey’s “The Late, Great Planet Earth.”  A decade ago, we had “Y2K.”  Last year a preacher predicted the world would end on May 21^st. And when that didn’t happen he said he miscalculated and the world would end on October 21^st. It didn’t and we haven’t heard from him since. And, of course, we now await the end according to the Mayan calendar which runs out in December next year.

 

 

 

The prophecies about the end of the world have enough connection with our experience as to seem familiar.  And a history of failure so frequent that such predictions have become a joke and the people who make them an object of ridicule. If we pay any attention at all to such bible stories as today’s gospel, we do so without any thought that it has to do with us.We ignore such stories first of all because there’s that long, amusing history of failed predictions.  And secondly, to listen to that kind of thing right after Thanksgiving and Black Friday and the end of the high holy days of gun deer season and the beginning of all the Christmas festivities is just too serious to fit the mood of the season. 

 

 

 

This is the one time of the year we want to pretend that love and good will and everything nice floods the world and nothing bad can ever happen.We know that isn’t true of course.  We have wars and rumors of wars, earthquakes, famine, civil unrest and financial hardship.  Death and darkness gather all around us in so many ways and threaten to spoil the season.  There are so many real threats to our joy, why add to it by making us think about something so ridiculous as the end of the world?

 

 

 

But what if it were true?  What if the world ends tomorrow?  What do you think you’d do today?  Just play along with this for a few minutes.  What if your future on earth was only 24 hours long?  Some of the men of the church have engaged in an exercise in faith called “One Year to Live.”  But what if that year were cut to one day? 

 

 

 

In other words, what is there about your life that is of supreme importance? What values are permanent, unchanged to the end; and which ones are of only temporary value? 

 

 

Jesus’ remarks in today’s reading were triggered by his disciples’ observations about the temple in Jerusalem.  As they left the temple, the disciples marveled at what a magnificent building it was.  It was so huge and so well-built and so majestic that it was hard to imagine it would ever change.  But of course it did.  By the next generation, it was a smoking ruin. Jesus said it would happen:  “Not one stone will be left upon another.”  Today nothing is left of the Temple today but a large retaining wall on the west side.

 

 

 

What would you do if the world were to end tomorrow?  Everything about our lives is less permanent, more fragile, more vulnerable than we can imagine.  Seasons change, friends move or move on, the company we work for dissolves, people we love die, accident or illness takes away our good health.  Nothing is permanent, everything changes.

 

 

 

We’re beginning the first week of Advent, the first week of the church year.  As we do so, it’s good to think about what has happened in our lives ‘til now; what we regret, what we celebrate, what we hope to experience.  Before all the distractions of the season call our attention elsewhere, it’s good to have time to draw away from the day to day distractions and think about the bigger picture. Jesus reminds us, as he did the disciples in Jerusalem that day, that the bigger picture is bigger than we can imagine.  Bigger than we can imagine - except for one thing.  It involves Jesus. 

 

 

 

Life is fragile.  Circumstances change.  But they can change for the better as well as for the worse.  People die, but new babies are born.  Friends leave, but new friends move in.  Jobs disappear, but new opportunities follow. But the biggest event, the most certain change is that Christ will come again – “to judge the living and the dead” as we say in our confession of faith.

 

That isn’t an event to fear, but a promise to live for.  In fact, it’s a promise fulfilled. We’ll be hearing mostly from the Gospel of Mark throughout this new church year.  And Mark’s gospel in particular is one that emphasizes that Christ lives among us now, that God walks with us through all the changes and chances of life.Jesus said the sky would be darkened and the ground would shake upon his return.  That’s exactly what happened when he died on the cross. He promised never to leave us nor forsake us and, last week, Matthew’s story told us where we would find him – in the hungry and naked, the sick and the thirsty, the imprisoned and the lonely. In those who need us and whom we need as well.

 

 

 

His cross is the pivot around which our old life of separation from God and from one another died in the body and blood of the one who offers us all new life, eternal life, in the company of the one who gives us life.

 

 

 

What would you do if the world would end tomorrow?  What you’re called to do today: love those who need your love, be faithful to the people and the work you’re called to do, be the person God called you and all the baptized to be: people who trust God, proclaim Christ in word and deed, care for others and the world God made, work for justice and peace. In Jesus, the future became the now.  In Jesus, the end has already begun.

 

 

The Power of His Presence

November 20, 2011

                                                                                                                                                                    

 Today we find ourselves in the middle of a remarkable kind of paradox. Because today we join in saluting the ministry of women in the church with a Thankoffering worship service. And we do that on a day the church calls Christ the King Sunday.  Christ the King.  A gender-specific term.  Kings are always men. We honor Christ the King on the day we also honor the ministry of the women of our church.

 

 Even in this enlightened age, the prevailing mood of most of civilized humanity still is that differences exist between the sexes. Differences that make women the “weaker vessel” as 1^st Peter declares. Weaker not only in terms of physical strength but also in terms of authority, of responsibility, and even - in some circles – weaker in value.

 

In many ways, we still live as if men and women are from different planets.  The church isn’t exempt from that constricted mindset.  Men are strong, women are weak, as we just heard from 1^st Peter.  Men rule the household, women should be submissive.  Men are the warriors, women tend the homefires.  Men exercise power, women are to be obedient. Jesus was a man, therefore the church, as the body of Christ, must be led by men.

 

It’s Christ the King Sunday.  Kings tell us what to do. Kings have the power to force us to obey even against our will.  Kings have dominant power and authority.  The reading from Ephesians seems to imply that image.  It uses the word “power” 4 times in those 7 verses, along with such words as “rule,” “authority”, “dominion.”  “He has put all things under his feet” we are told.  Strong words, muscular words, words we associate with men more than with women.  Christ is the King!  You better believe it; you better be afraid; you better kneel in humble obedience or you’ll be sorry for eternity.

 

Christ as King is a metaphor, of course, a verbal image to describe God in human terms.  But it isn’t the only metaphor for God that the Bible uses.  God is also called, rock, wind, judge, beginning and end, shepherd, lover, mother and guide, to name a few. Some of those metaphors describe opposite kind of images, paradoxical images: king and mother, judge and shepherd, rock and lover.  Both kinds of images are necessary, neither is sufficient by itself.  Just as we try to be mindful of the tension between law and gospel, we try to keep the image in mind of God as king and as mother at the same time.

 

Relating to God as shepherd reminds us that God loves us as we are, cares for us as we are, and offers his grace that we may know, as Ephesians puts it: “the hope to which he has called you and the riches of his glorious inheritance.”  Relating to God as king reminds us that God’s grace is freely offered, but that it is not cheap.  The gospel comforts us in our weakness while the law reminds us that God’s love isn’t sloppy butterfly kisses but a blessing that must be shared with the world.

 

God has ultimate power, so the image of Christ as King isn’t wrong.  But Jesus shows us that God’s power isn’t coercive power – it isn’t power over us, power that forces us to do and say things against our will.  God uses God’s power not to rule over us, but to govern for us, to abide with us.  That’s the difference between a king and a shepherd king.  That’s a clue to the union between male and female images. Both are good images but neither is confined to only one gender.  Power – God’s power or God’s people’s power – is never meant to be used as coercive power but as caretaking power, as healing power, as the power for peace and justice in the world – peace and justice not merely in terms of the absence of war or criminal activity, but as “shalom.” God’s power is power for wholeness, for health, for unity of spirit even in the midst of the diversity of life.

 

We often hear Jesus’ parable of the sheep and the goats as guilt-instilling law.  The command to care for the weakest among us is accompanied by the threat of damnation if we don’t.  It’s good to know that God holds bullies accountable; that God does not bless those who treat the last and the lost as objects of their contempt.  God cares for the whole flock and for how individuals within that flock are treated. There’s truth, divine truth, in the idea that the greatness of a nation – or of a family, a neighborhood, a church – the greatness of a community is measured in terms of how the community treats it weakest members, how it cares for those for whom we feel least responsible.  Hearing that parable as law can move us to treat others with the care God calls us to give.

 

But there’s gospel in this parable too – good news, comforting words, healing images.  Because the parable also says that Jesus lives among us still – as one of us – in the least of us. Jesus tells the story not simply to motivate us to be compassionate.  Remember that neither the caregivers nor the care-refusers in the story had any notion that doing or refusing to do had anything to do with their salvation. The parable reminds us that God abides with us, lives with us, wants everything good for us – for us all. The parable assures us that God is present in every particle of creation, in all the people of God.

 God’s power for us lies in God’s presence with us.  That power is always a power meant to heal us not to hurt us, to unite us not to divide us, to restore us not to condemn us.  Love one another, Jesus commands, as I have loved – and will always love – you. As the hymn says so well: “We are the presence of Christ, this is our call.”  Thank God for those women who have taken this to heart.  Thank God for the men who have too.  May we all recommit ourselves to follow their example.

 

 

"Now We Remain.  Now God Remains."

November 6, 2011

 Today we remember 21 people who have died since our last All Saints Sunday.  21.  That’s nearly 2 funerals a month – a normal year for us, given the size and average age of our membership.

 

A normal year. Except for the 21 families of those who have died.  Except for 21 sets of their friends and neighbors.  Not a normal year for them. For many, none of the years to come will feel “normal;” because a person who defined their lives in many ways is no longer around. Life from now on will never be the same, and the task of adjusting to changes in that life sometimes seems overwhelming.

 

There’s a kind of naïveté in our dealing with death and the changes it brings.  A wise person reminded me of that truth this week: “Life is terminal,” he said. Death is normal.  Life always ends in death – for every one of us. We hope that God has allotted us our 4 score and 10 before our time is up.  But inevitably – sooner or later – our time is up.  Life is a terminal condition. 21 people, 21 friends, 21 of those we love and who love us have reminded us of that truth in an all-too-terribly obvious way over the past 12 months. 

 

 

 

 

Life is terminal.  That’s true.  But not the whole truth.  “Beloved, we are God’s children.”  Children never give birth to themselves. Life never arises out of itself.  “See what love the Father has given us that we should be called the children of God; and that is what we are.”  That is what those 21 people are – not were, ARE! Now.  And that is what we are and will be.You know that. 

 

 

 

 

But all too often we forget that truth.  We don’t celebrate that truth.  We don’t rely on that truth. Life from day to day can so involve us in the business of living, of meeting challenges to living, of being so caught up in the immediate issues of the day that we lose sight of its purpose, we lose sight of its promise, we no longer recognize its source.That’s why it’s good to gather from week to week to be reminded of the great truth of our life. The truth that we belong together because of the love that God has revealed to us in the life and death of Jesus Christ.

 

Our call is to remain together and find ways to invite the rest of the world into the community that is created and loved, fed and supported by God. We belong together because that’s what God has intended for us.  We belong together, the living and the dead; for the children of God are the visible presence of God in life and in death.

 

We give thanks for Carol and Ernie and all the rest of the 21, and the hundreds before them whom we honor and remember today.  We give thanks for one another – some of whom you named when Heather asked you to do that last week.  Thank God for Heather and Willis and Esther, Grace and Rod, Virginia, Amy, Carl.  Thanks God for you.  Thank God for Jesus – whose body we are, whose call we obey, whose love we receive and share.

 

 

"Bar Exam"

Leviticus 19:1-2, 15-                                                                                          10/23/11

Matthew 22:34-46                                                                                                  Peace Lutheran 

 

As Heather mentioned last week, it’s Holy Week in this part of Matthew’s gospel.  Jesus has made his triumphal entry into Jerusalem in Chapter 21.  The final confrontation is underway between the authorities and Jesus.  Jesus is just days away from losing this contest of wills – as so many will think.

 

So far, the Pharisees have failed to trap Jesus into doing something criminal so they can have him arrested or saying something stupid so his followers will fade away.  Now a lawyer among them, a supreme expert among the experts in the law, asks Jesus a question – “to test him.”  As every good lawyer knows, when you’re examining someone you want to trap, you never ask a question to which you don’t already know the answer.  It’s a trick question.  The lawyer already knows the answer.

 

“Teacher,” he says. “Teacher!”  Addressing Jesus with a title the lawyer thinks this trouble maker from the sticks up north doesn’t deserve.  It’s part of the trap – make him think that you think that he knows something. Get him to overstep his bounds and say something he knows nothing about. “Teacher, which commandment is the greatest?” 

 

Now the Pharisees agree: there are 613 commandments in all the law and the prophets – the Bible of Jesus’ day.  613. As a one-time lawyer, I envy the Pharisees.  They had to know only 613 laws.  There are more laws than that in one volume of the federal tax code – which says nothing about the rest of the federal code – and state laws and county laws and city laws, and all the court opinions and administrative rules interpreting all those laws. It’s a mind-boggling task.

 

Still – 613 – not easy to know them all inside and out.This is a test, remember.  The lawyer is giving Jesus a bar exam.  How much does this guy really know about the law?  What’s the bottom line?  Teacher, If you could sum up all 613 laws in one sentence, what would it be?  I know the answer – do you?

 

Jesus promptly passes the bar exam.  There are two great commandments, he says, each relates to the other.  One from Deuteronomy, one from Leviticus: Love God, love your neighbor as yourself.  On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.

 

 In Luke’s telling of this story, the lawyer goes on to test what the law means by “neighbor.”  Some of us might like to discuss what is meant by “loving the neighbor as yourself.”   On the one hand, Jesus talks elsewhere about denying ourselves, about living for the other.  Luther and others talk about sin as being curved in on one’s self.  On the other hand, we all agree that having a positive self-image is an important to good health.  There’s truth in saying that “God don’t make junk.” Loving ourselves involves maintaining a careful balance between egoism and self-hate.

 

But that isn’t the most important issue. There’s the matter of what the law means by “love.”  What does it mean to love God, love the neighbor, love myself?  What does that look like?  Karl, age 5, says that love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving lotion and they go out and smell each other.  Bobby, also 5, says that love is what’s in the room with you at Christmas when you stop opening presents and listen.  Jenny, older and more mature at age 7, gets closer when she says there are two kinds of love.  God’s love and our love.  But God makes both kinds.

 

Whatever we mean by it, everyone agrees that love is a good thing. Jesus verifies not only what the Pharisees believe to be true but also what the whole human race believes to be true.  As one of my sermon helpers puts it, the Greatest Commandment simply reflects common human decency.

 

It would be worth our time to explore how loving God and loving neighbor are alike, yet different.  We could tie things in a nice, neat package as John’s epistle does in saying that loving the neighbor is the equivalent of loving God. We could agree with 7 year old Jenny that God makes both kinds of love.  That is to say that our love for neighbor grows out of our love for God and that both grow from God’s love for us.

 

We could probe the issue a little deeper and think about how we love neither God nor neighbor as we ought to, much less to the degree God expects of us. It’s hard for us to love a God whom we have never seen.  And, as G.K. Chesterton points out: “Here Jesus tells us to love our neighbors.  Elsewhere Jesus says we should love our enemies.  The problem is that often they are the same people.” Love as an idea is simple.  Love in the real world is often not so simple.

 

We could engage in a motivational pep talk about love. But there’s something more profound going on in this story.

 

Jesus now asks a question that goes deeper than whether we can obey the law of love. He asks a question about the one who gives the law.  A question that requires an answer about who Jesus is and what he’s about. A question the Pharisees refuse to answer because it requires them to confess their belief – or disbelief – in him. Jesus gives them a bar exam that they fail.“What do you think of the Messiah?  Whose son is he?” 

 

Just as God took Moses up the mountain to show him the promised land, so Jesus shows us through his biography the fulfillment of God’s eternal promise.  The promise that will claim Greta Cropp this weekend, the promise that claims each of us.

 

The love that counts is God’s love. Through Jesus, God proves his love for you and me.  Through Jesus, the law and the gospel are united in one purpose, to bring us all to the throne of judgment, the seat of grace, the embrace of the loving Creator for the beloved creature.  “You shall be holy, for I the Lord your God am holy.”  That’s no idle command.  That’s the basis for our relationship with God and through God with one another.  You shall be holy.  Thanks be to God we are – because of Jesus.