God's Tattoo

Proper 28B; Dan. 12:1-3; Heb. 10:11-25; Mark 13:1-8; St. Paul’s, 11/18/18

Jim Melnyk: “God’s Tattoo”

There will come a time, the author of Hebrews writes, when God will place the teachings of Torah in our hearts and write the wonders of Torah on our minds.  The writer hearkens back to the words of the prophet Jeremiah who promises a new covenant of love written on the hearts of God’s people (Jeremiah 31:31-34).  And for me, it is reminiscent of God’s promise in Second Isaiah that I’ve mentioned before – how it is that God will inscribe each of our names upon the very palms of God’s hands (Isaiah 49:16).  Consider, if you will, the incredible power of those images!  Consider the wonder of the commitment behind those images!  The life-giving Teachings of God written or inscribed upon our hearts and within our minds.  Our names tattooed on the very palms of God’s hands (and yes, I know, God most probably doesn’t have hands like we have hands – but what an incredible metaphor nonetheless!). 

Now, I know there’s at least a few among us who sport a bit of ink these days.  And while I know a tattoo can be removed, they are pretty much a permanent thing unless you go through a rather painful process to remove it – and then you still end up with a ghost of the image as a reminder of your prior commitment. 

Now getting tattoos have differing degrees of discomfort depending on where one actually gets tattooed.  I have to tell you, the thought of a tattoo on the heart or on the brain – if we’re to stick with the metaphors from Scripture – or a tattoo on the palm of the hand – well, they all sound pretty painful to me.  We’re talking commitment here, folks.  Commitment that entails going through a good bit of pain to name that which we love – and then to have it etched – to have it inscribed – to have it tattooed – to have it permanently affixed upon our hearts, in our minds, and upon the palms of God’s hands!  This is no act of drunken fancy that we’ll regret having done the next day when we come to our senses.  This is not the first love of our life who may someday leave us with nothing but a permanent reminder of the relationship staring back at us in the mirror after our morning shower.

We’re talking about a relationship that lives on through eternity – the love of God stamped on our hearts and minds – the love of God written upon our foreheads – “you are sealed with the Holy Spirit in baptism and marked as Christ’s own for ever!”  It is an incredible promise from God that comes with both pain and joy – an incredible promise that is as constant as the sun – and as compelling – and as risky – as falling madly in love.

I long for the day when the Law of Love is the only thing written upon my heart, the only thing written within my soul and mind – unwavering love for God and unwavering love for my neighbor. 

But the truth is too real.  The metaphor of the tattoo reminds us that the commitment we make with God – and the commitment God makes with us – doesn’t come without some pain and without some risk.  Our lessons from Daniel and Mark remind us that there’s a world of hurt surrounding us – and that sometimes the night can get pretty bleak before the breaking light of the dawn.  Not everyone welcomes the Law of love. Not everyone welcomes Good News.  Not everyone longs for the Kingdom of God to unfold or the New Jerusalem we read about on All Saints’ Day to come to fruition.  The promise of God comes among us like the etching of the artist’s needle across our heart or like the pangs of giving birth.

I believe the fight for our hearts – the fight for our minds – the fight for our souls – is very real.  The enemies may inhabit Madison Avenue – telling us our self-worth comes from what we buy.  They may inhabit Wall Street – telling us the health of our souls depends on the health of our stock portfolios.  The enemies of our hearts may inhabit our political parties – note that I said “parties” not “party” – or even our churches – telling us whom to welcome in and whom to shut out.  The challenges to our hearts and souls may be a struggle for our faith in the face of regular mass shootings, pounding storms and floods, or raging fires consuming whole towns.  We find our hearts being graffitied with racism, anger, sorrow, apathy, or disbelief. 

There would be no apocalyptic imagery in the book of Daniel if everyone in Daniel’s day had welcomed the kingdom of God.  There would be no “Little Apocalypse” – no chapter 13 – in Mark’s Gospel if everyone listening to Jesus had welcomed and celebrated the image of God in each other.  There is always someone or something fighting to draw our hearts and souls away from our love for God and away from seeing the face of God in others.

Whether we’re talking about the occupying forces of the Seleucid Empire of the prophet Daniel’s day and the desolating sacrilege they set up in the Temple, or the latter day forces of Rome that Jesus grew up experiencing, or the wars, the bigotry and the greed of the twenty-first century world – there is always someone or some empire standing against the dream of God – someone or some empire trying to erase our names from the palms of God’s hands.

The strength of apocalyptic literature is its ability to remind us that while not everyone is willing to stand up for justice, mercy, peace, and the power of love, in the end, against all hope, in the end, God’s hope – God’s dream – God’s love will reign.  God will always remain faithful.  And God’s call to us is constant.

Ours is a high calling – a calling to love – not to love as a noun, but to love as a verb.  Our high calling is a calling to an active, caring, giving love – a living love that engages God and God’s people in how we live each moment of every day.  God calls us to a love that actively works on behalf of God’s dream for this world and for its people.  Our calling is written upon our hearts.

Our calling is inscribed in our minds and on our hearts and on our souls.    

In all this I am reminded of our reawakened relationship with the people of our sister congregation San José.  While we face challenges of language and culture, we each share the mark of Christ upon our brows.  We each live in a world that struggles with diversity, all the while desiring to serve the same God.  I am reminded of young Jennifer Cardenas of San José who carried our St. Paul’s banner during the Diocesan Convention Eucharist Friday morning – and how this 18 year-old stood in front of an overflow crowd during one of our legislative hearings to speak out on behalf of the justice and mercy of God.  What a joyful reminder that God’s love is not bound by age, or race, or language, or gender.  What a joyful reminder of the rich diversity of faith we can experience when we welcome and embrace one another in the fullness of our diversity – in the fullness of God’s image shared by us all.

Like the act of writing, or the act of inscribing or tattooing, the love of God calls us to action in this world – to living out our baptismal calling to work for justice, dignity and peace for all human beings – truly a calling of the highest order!  But also like a tattoo, the dream of God for this world – the hope of God for creation – the love of God for each of us – is meant to last a lifetime; each of us sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked as Christ’s own forever.

Shema Israel

Proper 26B; Deut. 6:1-9; Mark 12:28-34 St. Paul’s, Smithfield 11/4/2018

Jim Melnyk: “Shema Israel”

“Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God is one Lord; and you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart,

And with all your soul,

And with all your might.

And these words which I command you this day shall be upon your heart;

And you shall teach them diligently to your children,

And shall talk of them when you sit in your house,

And when you walk by the way,

And when you lie down,

And when you rise.”

These words are thousands of years old and yet they are powerful words for us even today.  These words, beginning with “Hear O Israel,” came into practice some twenty-five hundred years ago during the reign of Josiah, the king of Judah.  They are known as The Shema – the Hebrew word for “listen, or hear and do, or even accept” (Wikipedia).  The Shema is meant to be said by faithful Jews the first thing every morning and as the last thing they say every night.  We might call it a creedal statement of the Jewish faith – certainly a creedal statement of faith by Jesus and those who follow him.

During the time of Jesus there was no doubt as to the importance of these words which were repeated twice daily by the faithful.

One God.  Unique in relationship with Israel and not a part of a host of other gods.  To be loved with all our heart, soul, and might – or as Jesus says in Mark, with all our strength.  That is, with everything that we are.  Utterly.  With our whole being.  With everything we possess - everything.  There should be nothing of us – no part of us – that isn’t totally involved in a love relationship with our God.  That means we can’t hide any part of ourselves from God.  As we pray together each Sunday, “Almighty God, to you all hearts are open, all desires known, and from you no secrets are hid…” (BCP, 355).

Is there any wonder that Mark records this – that Matthew and Luke, along with Mark, record The Shema as Jesus’ response to the question, “Which commandment is the first of all?”  But of course we all know that there was more to the response by Jesus – he took it a bit further, perhaps as a way of saying what our love for God should look like when experienced in our lives.

Almost in the same breath Jesus adds, “The second is this, you shall love your neighbor as yourself.  There is no commandment greater than these.” 

Love your neighbor as yourself.  Jesus is quoting from a section of Leviticus 19 known as The Holiness Code – a code which offers a number of concrete examples of how we are to show love toward our neighbor: “When you reap the harvest of your land, you shall not reap your field to its very border, or gather the gleanings after your harvest.  You shall not strip your vineyard bare, or gather the fallen grapes of your vineyard; you shall leave them for the poor and for the alien: I am the Lord your God.

You shall not steal; you shall not deal falsely; you shall not defraud or oppress your neighbor.  You shall not oppress the alien….You shall love the alien as yourself; I am the Lord your God” (portions of 19:9-34 paraphrased).  Concrete examples of how we are to show love for our neighbor – and concrete examples of who we are to see and treat as our neighbor.

Tying together the commands to love God with every fiber of our being, as found in Deuteronomy, and the command to love our neighbor, as found in Leviticus, was not unheard of during the time Jesus walked this earth.  Certainly the scribe in today’s lesson from Mark is pleased with the way Jesus combined the two commandments; and in Luke’s gospel it’s the scribe, or the lawyer, who actually puts the two commandments together and is then affirmed by Jesus.  These are two of the rare occasions when Jesus and his protagonists end up agreeing with one another – so we can understand the importance of these two commandments from God.  Even so, preaching this love for God and love for neighbor is what led Jesus to the cross.

The Jewish theologian Martin Buber once wrote, “By connecting the two [commandments] Jesus brings to light the Old Testament truth that God and [humanity] are not rivals.”  He goes on to explain, “Exclusive love to God (“With all your heart”) is, [because of who God is,] inclusive love, ready to accept and include all love.”  Buber is saying that loving our neighbor is an active extension of our loving of God.  He is saying that only in the concrete actions of caring for others can God be seen as the Living God – the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob – the God of Sarah, Ruth, and Esther – the God of our Lord Jesus Christ.  Without our concrete love for others our love for God becomes empty and cold – something we seek to possess like one possesses an idol.

This past Sunday evening hundreds of faithful people gathered together at Beth Meyer Synagogue in Raleigh as part of a Vigil on behalf of those injured and killed at Tree of Life Synagogue in Pittsburgh.  The murderer – the religious terrorist who pulled the trigger – used the Gospel of John as his rationale for purposely seeking out and killing Jews.  There is absolutely no theological justification for his actions – and there is no way one can tie such hatred and violence to any teachings of Jesus, let alone to the Great Commandment.

But there we were: Eight area rabbis; an Episcopal Bishop (our own Sam Rodman) along with several Episcopal priests, deacons and lay people; Baptist, Presbyterian, Roman Catholic, Methodist, and non-denominational ministers and lay people; three Imams from local mosques, the mayor of Raleigh; the Governor, and more; all gathered together in vigil – all sharing one another’s grief – all naming our hurt and our anger – all recognizing our common bond as people created in the image and likeness of God – and all claiming our hope for a future where such vigils are no longer necessary.  I suspect almost every one of us present wondered at some point about the possibility of our gathering being targeted by violence – but we each believed that remaining separate, and remaining silent, was far worse than any threat of death.

Central to the message shared by leaders from all faiths was the Great Commandment.  We heard the call to love God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength, and to love our neighbor from all three great religions of the Book – core commandments of all three faiths.  We hunger for hearts of stone to become hearts of flesh – even as the prophet Ezekiel promised.

Rabbi Ariel Edery offered a prayer for action, part of which reads, “We cannot merely pray to you, O God, to root out prejudice and hatred; for you have already given us eyes to see the good in all people, if we would only look for it…. Therefore we pray to you instead, O God,

For strength and determination;

For wisdom and will power;

To do and not just to pray, to become instead of to wish;

That our land may be safe, and that our lives may be blessed.

Rabbi Edery’s prayer should sound familiar to us.  We have offered a similar prayer every Sunday for the past several weeks and we will hear it again today.  “Open our eyes to see your hand at work in the world about us.  Deliver us from the presumption of coming to this Table for solace only, and not for strength; for pardon only, and not for renewal.  Let the grace of this Holy Communion make us one body, one spirit in Christ, that we may worthily serve the world in Christ’s name.”

My prayer last Sunday, and every day since, is that the people of this nation – the people of this world – will ask God for the wisdom, the courage, and the will, to move beyond simply offering our thoughts and prayers when these tragedies of violence and hatred occur.  That we will seek the wisdom, the courage, and the will to act – to change how we live, move, and have our being with one another in this world.  Otherwise there will just continue to be more Pulse Nightclubs, more Sandy Hook and Parkland schools, more Tree of Life Synagogues – because thoughts and prayers won’t stand in the way of hate.  It takes concrete actions of love and support – concrete acts of wisdom and courage – of both word and deed – to make a difference.

When we put into practice our deep and abiding love for God; coupled with our love for one another – our love for our neighbor – our love for the alien who resides among us – then we may see a world bending itself toward the dream of God – then we may hear our Lord say to us, “You, my sisters and brothers, you are not far from the kingdom of God.”