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Sunday, August 30, 2015

The Law of Relationship




Proper 17B; Mark 7:1-15, 21-23 St. Paul’s, Smithfield, NC 8/30/2015
Jim Melnyk: “The Law of Relationship”

Once upon a time there was this guy who could be a real troublemaker.  It seems he was always a cause of disruption wherever he went – in fact his mother probably nick-named him “Trouble” when he was a kid.  The people in charge who kept watch over him were at times confused.  At other times they were angry.  Sometimes they were just jealous of this guy’s popularity.  They were often awestruck by his words and his actions – and anxious about his charisma.
           
He couldn’t – or wouldn’t – be told what to do or what to say.  He was his own person, and that just flat-out offended some.  If those in charge were to say “red,” there was a good chance he would say “blue.”  If they said “up,” he would say “down.”  And when they said “no,” he would most likely say “Yes!” – Sometimes rather emphatically.  At times he could be the proverbial pain in the lower back.
           
Sometimes it seemed like this guy had personal distain for anything traditional – he would shake his head when friends said, “But, we’ve always done it that way.”  And it seemed like he had absolutely no concern over matters of national security – endangering those around him with his words and deeds.  The community leaders realized this guy was a clear and present danger – not just to their authority, but to the community and even the nation.
           
Why couldn’t this guy just behave himself and toe the party line?  What was it with Jesus that made him seem so contrary to conventional wisdom?
           
Let’s face it – Jesus as we experience him in the gospels isn’t someone to shy away from a good argument.  In fact, a good bit of his ministry is surrounded by in-house debates with various religious and political leaders.  The debates with many of the Pharisees, though often barbed, are debates among equals – with sincere religious beliefs involved by all.  And Jesus is the one who tends to get in most of the verbal digs – like when he calls his detractors things like hypocrites and white-washed tombs, or when he jokingly asks teachers of the Law, “Haven’t you ever read the Scriptures?”
           
To be sure, a lot of their arguments or debates center on how the Torah – the teachings – of Judaism are to be understood and lived.  However, we must remember that neither Jesus nor the Pharisees understand Torah to be relative or whimsical in nature – something to be followed if we feel up to it, or obeyed when it suits us and ignored when not.  Both Jesus and the Pharisees see the Law – see Torah – as foundational to their relationship with God – a way of faithfully responding to the God who creates and redeems Israel and the world.  Both Jesus and the Pharisees follow a tradition of interpreting what has been handed down through the ages – seeking an understanding of the ancient teachings in the midst of their everyday lives. 

And so we come to understand – to know – through Jesus and yes, even through the Pharisees once we move beyond the sniping at them that takes place in parts of the gospels, we come to understand that while the Law is not meant to be relative – changing in every circumstance – the Law is meant to be relational.  Torah is meant to be a way of honoring God and honoring one another as God’s people.  It is never designed to weigh down, or break down and destroy, the very people God both created and gifted with Torah in the first place.  First and foremost Torah – and for Christians, the Gospel – calls us into right relationship with one another and with God.  We see Jesus embracing Torah – not one consonant or vowel will be removed Jesus tells us.

And so we find ourselves caught in a tension here.  On the one hand we can’t pick and choose which parts of Torah – which verses of Scripture we will follow and which we won’t – and yet here is Jesus, telling his detractors not to get bent out of shape over his disciples not following the letter of Law.  What do we do with that, troublemaker Jesus?

Long before Jesus ever comes on the scene wise teachers of Torah understood there is a deeper level of meaning – a deeper truth, we might say – to the precise letter of the Law.  Undergirding all of the Law – undergirding all of Torah – undergirding all of Creation, for that matter, is the grace – the favor – of God.  God creates a world because God chooses to, not because God is compelled to do so – and that is grace.  God creates human beings in God’s own image – simply because God chooses to – not because God is compelled to do so – and that is grace.  And God constantly woos humanity, trying to win our hearts – as Julian of Norwich says, out of love – and that too, is grace.  So don’t ever let anyone tell you there is no grace in the Old Testament!

It is by the grace of God that we are created and have our being.  It is grace which calls our hearts to God, and grace which opens our hearts to God.  By grace God called Israel out of slavery in Egypt.  Grace gave Israel the Law as a way of living in faithful relationship with God.  Grace called the prophets and placed God’s words in their mouths.  It was the grace and love of God that became incarnate – the Word became flesh and dwelled among us.  Human beings tend to forget all that, and need to be reminded.  It's a good thing that God is still a God of covenant—taking the initiative, choosing, guiding and forgiving” (Heidi Husted, Synthesis Today, 8/19/2015).

Jesus knows his faith tradition – he is conversant with the Scriptures of his day.  He recalls the psalm attributed to King David during one of the most painful moments of David’s life: “Had you desired it, [God,] I would have offered sacrifice, but you take no delight in burnt-offerings.  The sacrifice of God is a troubled spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise” (Psalm 51:17-18, BCP).  We know Jesus has participated in the sacrificial liturgies of the Temple throughout his life.  We know the Temple is an important focus in his life – he shows up there a lot.  Jesus understands – knows – that it’s what undergirds one’s Torah observance that makes it a right sacrifice to God.   Torah observance, without the relationship it is meant to nurture –without our openness to God’s grace, becomes empty; just as our Christianity, when we fail to follow the teachings of Jesus – when we fail to see the boundless scope of God’s grace – becomes empty as well.

Our lectionary framers skipped an important part of Mark’s gospel in today’s reading and we miss out on a commentary about how our traditions can get in the way of our relationships – how we can get so focused on doing one thing that is right, that we miss doing something even more important. Jesus talks about an interpretation of the tradition allowing a person to designate money they would have used to care for parents as an offering to God – a holy loophole of sorts – thereby ignoring the commandment to honor one’s father and mother. 

Jesus is saying, “How can we truly love God when we turn our backs on the very people God has called us to love?”  Jesus and many of the Pharisees, both, understood that there are weightier matters of the Law – that sometimes one teaching gets put aside for another – that worship of God loses its direction when we fail to love each other – when we fail to love as Christ loves us – when we fail to mirror the boundless grace of God.

We know that further along in all three of the synoptic gospels – in Matthew, Mark, and Luke – Jesus, when challenged to name the greatest of all the commandments, responded with two: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and with all your strength,” and “Love your neighbor as yourself.”  The two are tied together and cannot be separated – they are two sides of a single coin.  Our love for God drives our love for our neighbor, and our love for our neighbor is the tangible expression of our love for God.  As the author of James writes, “…be doers of the word, and not merely hearers who deceive themselves.”

I saw a bumper sticker the other day that carried words often wrongly attributed to St. Francis of Assisi.  “Preach the Gospel – if necessary, use words.”  While Francis may not have actually said those words, he certainly taught them.  Our lives should be a teaching about the love of God for this world that speaks out louder than any words we could shout.  And who knows – as we live out the gospels in our lives we might just get called troublemakers – choosing to be faithful to the teachings of Jesus.  But then, if so, we would certainly be in good company.

Sunday, August 23, 2015

The God I Choose to Serve




Proper 16B; Joshua 24:15; John 6:67-68; St. Paul’s, Smithfield, 8/23/2015
Jim Melnyk: “The God I Choose to Serve”

I've owned this particular Bible for a little over 26 years now – more than a quarter of a century. It was a gift. It even has my name inscribed on the front cover. The inside inscription reads: “Presented to James Stanley Melnyk by the Prayer Book and Tract Society in Upper South Carolina on the occasion of his ordination to the Diaconate on June 10, 1989 in Trinity Cathedral, Columbia, South Carolina.” It is signed, William A. Beckham, Bishop of Upper South Carolina.

This particular Bible has hardly ever been used. Even before it was given to me on that special day, the Episcopal Church had begun a shift from this translation – The Revised Standard Version – to a newer translation – aptly named The New Revised Standard Version. The NRSV – as most folks call it – was introduced as my last year in seminary was coming to a close.  
It incorporated many of the shifts in translation that our seminary professors had been pointing to throughout our studies – and it is still the Bible of choice in most Episcopal Churches.

Even as I received this wonderful gift, the world's understanding of what its authors and editors were trying to proclaim had shifted. Our understanding of God had shifted. The ways in which we looked at God through the pages of Scripture had taken on new life – and not for the first time in the history of faith. In the years between 1952, when this version was first published, and 1989, when the NRSV was introduced, there were twenty-six other English translations of the Bible produced.

There were also another twenty-five translations and revisions of the New Testament alone. New understandings – new scholarship – newly discovered documents – along with new insights into history, culture, language and faith brought about changes in how the Bible would be read.

And you may have noticed that people tend to have their favorite – even solely authoritative – version of the Bible. Many Bible-belt believers will say the King James Version is the only real. But then we must ask, “Is that the version first published in 1611 – or one of the many revisions of that version?” I dare say that most versions of the King James Bible we come across today, whether in a home, a motel drawer, a pew or on a bookstore shelf are quite different from the problematic version first read in the 17th century.  And contrary to some popular belief, Jesus did not use the King James Version!

Now bear with me – I'm going somewhere with this – I promise. Before I was given this Bible those many years ago I had to take a vow – it can be found on page 538 of the BCP. I promised to be loyal to the doctrine, discipline, and worship of Christ as the Episcopal Church has received them. Then I said, “I solemnly declare that I do believe the Holy Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments to be the Word of God, and to contain all things necessary to salvation….” Can you see where I'm going? The translations don't all agree! Even some of the stories in the same translation don't agree with each other! Our stances on doctrine, as a denomination, don't always agree! Did I have my fingers crossed back then? Have I crossed them each time I've renewed my ordination vows over the years? No. I can answer “No” because of what I believe about Scripture – what I believe about my vows and what they mean – and because of the God whom I choose to serve.

I believe this Bible – the Bible – is a gift from God and God's people which points to the wonder and grace of God. Too many people seem to see this book as God. It is not. It points to, and reveals, the One we call God, and that’s why we have this time on Sunday mornings, or study this book in Sunday School or our Monday Night Study Group – it gives us a chance to wrestle with the text – to use the gift of reason God has given us to interpret and understand – to remember that for us as Christians the true Word of God is Jesus.

Joshua told the people of Israel “choose this day whom you will serve!” When the twelve, struggling with what they are hearing about bread from heaven, are asked by Jesus, “will you also leave me?” Simon Peter says, “Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life.”  We don’t read these stories in isolation from their contexts – we read them with an expectation that like Joshua and the Israelites, and like the twelve who followed Jesus – we have to decide just who it is we choose to follow.

The God I choose to follow is revealed to me in the pages of Holy Scripture – in the words and images of both the Hebrew and Christian texts. But the God I choose to follow is not constrained by, or held hostage within, these texts! The God I choose to follow has spoken to humanity not just in days of old – and not just through the pages of Scripture. The God I choose to follow has spoken through people of faith throughout the ages – and not just people of Christian faith. Everything I need to know to find my home in God can be found in the stories, the songs, the poetry, and the history of this book – but there's so much more to understand and know about God that awakens my heart and draws me ever closer to my Creator.
The God I choose to follow – the God whom I choose to serve – is not constrained by these pages – if that were so, if God were to be constrained by these pages – what kind of God would that be?

And so, in response to Joshua, and in solidarity with Simon Peter, I want to share with you this morning something of the God whom I choose to follow.

I choose to follow a God who creates life out of death. A God who declares the goodness of creation – a God who looks upon this human family, even in all our brokenness, and says, “It is very good.”

I choose to follow a God, who looks upon human suffering –who looks upon slavery and oppression – who looks upon hatred and bigotry – and says, “Let my people go!” I choose a God who would look upon the slaughter of the faithful and the innocent by groups like ISIS, carried out in God's name, and weep with horror at the cruelty of that act. 

I follow a God who is so much more than the witness we have in Genesis, where whole tribes of people are put to the ban – presented as burnt offerings.  As our understanding of God has unfolded we begin to understand a God who would see such acts as an abomination! I choose a God who would wail and rage at hearing the psalmist proclaim to the Babylonians, “Happy shall he be who takes your little ones, and dashes them against the rock!” (137:9) Just because a war-like people understood God in this way 3,000 years ago – does that mean we should be bound to that same vision – just because it's in this book?

The God I worship, follow, and serve is the One who says, “Let light shine in the darkness,” who says, “Behold I am doing a new thing.” I follow a God who, in the person of Jesus, says, “Come to me all you who labor and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.” My God is the God who says, “Peace be with you, my peace I leave with you” – who says “Love your neighbor as yourself” – who says “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” 

I choose a God who takes from my chest a heart of stone and places within me a heart of flesh (Ezekiel 36:26) – a God who “brings good news to the oppressed, binds up the brokenhearted, proclaims liberty to the captives, and release to prisoners” (Isaiah 61:1 paraphrased). My God is a God who weeps with us when we hurt, and rejoices with us when we find love – love that honors and affirms those whom we love. Not a God of anger and death – not a God of indifference and poverty – not a God of separation, isolation, and ridicule, but rather a God of life – a God of grace – a God of hope – and a God of promise!

Does that mean I don't take this book seriously? No. But I read it with an open heart and, hopefully, with a discerning spirit. As the pages of Scripture unfold I see an understanding of God unfolding as well – and I see my understanding of God being transformed.

There are instances in these pages where God is more cantankerous; more hotheaded, heavy-handed, and mean-spirited then any of us can be on our worst day.  Is that God – or is it just humanity trying to see God through a dirty lens?

The Psalmist writes “But you are always the same, and your years will never end” (Psalm 102:27).  And I’ve come to understand that over the years God has not changed – but I have – we have – millennia of people before us – have changed.  Or at least I hope so!

Joshua says to his people, “Choose this day whom you will serve.” Today I say to God and God's people, “Here I stand!” Like Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. who fifty-two years ago this coming Friday, said “I have a dream,” I, too, have a dream – a dream that some day we will find a way to make the love of God real for this broken world. I have a dream that separation and alienation will cease to have a place in our houses of prayer and the halls of our society. I have a dream that one day people of different faiths across this world will stand hand-in-hand and celebrate together the love of God and the power of God to make all things new. I choose the God of love – I choose the God life. Amen.

Sunday, August 16, 2015

Enfolded in God


 


Proper 15B; Proverbs 9:1-6; John 6:51-58; St. Paul's, Smithfield, NC 8/16/2015
Jim Melnyk: “Enfolded in God”

A little boy, who would one day become a learned Rabbi, was once challenged by an adult: “Yitzhak Meir,” the grownup said, “I'll give you a gold coin if you can tell me where God lives!”  Yitzhak reportedly replied, “And I'll give you two gold coins if you can tell me where God doesn't live!” (Martin Buber, Tales of the Hasidim, Vol. II, Page 303).
           
Meir's quick response concerning where God lives or doesn't live has much to do with our ongoing lessons about Jesus as the Bread of Life come down from heaven.  To be able to make sense of what Jesus means when he says, “unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you” is just as hard as identifying where God lives – or for that matter, where God doesn't live.  And yet, isn't that part of our struggle of faith – to understand what it means for Jesus to be the Bread of Life or the Bread of Heaven that has come for the life of the world?  For nearly two thousand years Christians have tried to figure out what we mean when we say, “This is my body – this is my blood,” and the answer is as much a mystery today as it was when the words were first uttered.
           
When Jesus declares his body “food” and his blood “drink,” our heads and our hearts both tell us there must be more to the meaning than just those simple words.  Centuries ago, in an attempt to avoid any possibility of superstition, much of the post-Reformation Church declared the Eucharist to be memorial of the Last Supper.  Christ's ongoing presence in the meal was declared to be real in memory only.  And much of Christianity lost a great deal in that decision!
           
But as Anglicans we took a middle way – what I believe to be a better way.  Though we know we don't literally feed on flesh or sip real blood from the chalice, our faith has always maintained a mystical sense of the “real presence” of Christ in this most holy meal.  The words spoken by Jesus in John's Gospel, along with the accounts of the Last Supper in the other Gospels and in Paul's writings, while not entirely literal, are more than mere memory, metaphor or allegory for us. 
           
I believe we're called to look at these events at an anagogical level – that is, at an interior level – at a level of insight that calls out and speaks to the soul.  In the Eucharist Christ feeds us at a level that calls to our souls – that nourishes our souls – that touches the deepest part of our being where we know ourselves to be at one with God – where we know ourselves to be created in the very image and likeness of God.  To meet Jesus at this soul-level is to meet Jesus at that place where we somehow know him to be fully present with us and fully present for us, in the holy meal we share.  Julian of Norwich understood this way of knowing Jesus when she wrote, “A mother feeds her child with her milk, but our beloved mother Jesus feeds us with himself.” (Enfolded in Love, Daily Readings with Julian of Norwich, The Seabury Press, NY, 1981, p. 36)
           
The challenge – the struggle for us – is to allow ourselves to be comfortable NOT fully understanding the words of Jesus.  And it's so strange that in a day and time where imagination and fantasy abound – whether on TV or in the movies – in books or even in real life – it's so strange that we modern day folk have lost the ability to imagine theologically.  We've lost our ability to allow ourselves to be enfolded in mystery and imagining.  We want the stories of our faith to make the same kind of sense we find in a news report, or in a lab experiment, or in a history book – thinking, “How can these things be?”
           
Stories like the Last Supper or the Feeding of the Five Thousand – or stories like Wisdom's invitation to feast at her table, or the author of Ephesians call to be filled with the Spirit – all are invitations by God into Holy Mystery and Holy Imagining!  All are invitations to meet God at that interior level – at the level of our souls.  The stories invite us to suspend our inadequate understandings of creation and Creator and believe in God's ability to fill us, and fill this world – to believe in the ability of God to always do something new!        
           
These stories, and our weekly pilgrimage to the Holy Table, invite us to believe – and to live – as a people united in God through the love of Jesus.  We are invited to believe – to make real in our hearts – the power of God to bring each one of us into God's presence through the body and blood of Christ once offered and forever shared!
           
Holy Mystery!  Holy Imagining!  The Creator of the Universe finding yet another way of making God’s Self real for us – of reaching out to us and drawing us near – of enfolding us with a never-ending love which won't let go – of taking those who were once “no people” and making us God's People.  Holy Mystery! “This is my body!”  Holy Imagining!  “This is my blood!”  Somehow, in the wild imaging of our Creator God, we have been drawn together –drawn into the circle of God's love – by a simple meal shared among friends so long ago by a simple preacher who wasn't quite so simple as the world wanted to think – as the world often wants to think today.
           
We, who might never have met one another but for the mystery of Christ's most precious gift, we come together at this Holy Table and are bound together – we are made one – by the mystery of God's love made known to us in the breaking of the bread.  But it is not the one little bite of bread itself that nourishes us with its meager calories – it is the real presence of Christ in the community gathered – and it is the community gathered as we are made one with Christ that nourishes us each week.  As our fraction anthem later today declares, “Be known to us, Lord Jesus, in the breaking of the bread. The bread which we break is the communion of the body of Christ.  One body are we, for though many, we share one bread” (S-167, The Hymnal 1982).
           
It is the power of Holy Mystery which moves us to hear the cry of those who are made outcast by the world.  It is Holy Imagining which opens our hearts to our children's cries of confusion and fear as they face an uncaring world with its deadly choices of bigotry, hopelessness, indifference and hate – a world that would teach them not to care – a world that tries to teach us not to care.  It is the most precious gift of Christ's self which brings us together – so that where one voice cannot be heard above the maddening din of the world, our many voices joined together can speak out for the justice, peace and love of God that has the power to transform a world.
           
Someone once wrote, “The breath of God comes and dwells in the things we habitually do and makes them new starting points.”  We come together to this Holy Table with a prayer that God will somehow transform us and make us new – because often, it seems, we need to be made new on a daily basis. 
           
We come together at this Holy Table with a prayer that God will spark our imaginations in such a way that we will know God has given us the power to transform the world.  Holy Mystery!  God enfolding us, we are transformed into the body of Christ!  Holy Imagining!  God enfolding us, we become the blood of Christ for the world!  God drawing us into the deepest places of not just our own being – but into the deepest places of God's own being – into the deepest places of God's own hopes and dreams – the deepest places of God's own heart.  And there are all kinds of implications for us and for our lives when we understand ourselves to be filled with Christ – and when we understand ourselves to be inhabiting the deepest places of God’s own being – of God’s own hopes and dreams – of God’s own heart.
           
The story is told that “one day, as he began his daily prayer, a Desert Master saw pass by him a cripple, a beggar, and a beaten person.  Seeing them, the Master went deep into prayer and cried, 'Great God!  How is it that a loving Creator can see such suffering and yet do nothing about it?'  And out of the depth of prayer, God [answered the Master and] said, 'I have done something about it.  I made you.'” (Understanding the Sunday Scriptures, A Synthesis Commentary, Year B, Page 62)

* Second photo from Student Affairs at Duke.edu