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.