The 'Dog' who Opens Jesus' Eyes

 

Matthew 15:10-28

Proper 15 / Year A

Some biblical commentators – perhaps most – refer to the second half of this morning’s gospel reading as “The Testing of the Canaanite Woman’s Faith”, contending Jesus’ rudeness is merely a method to assess her worthiness. They just cannot bear or believe Jesus could be so cruel and insensitive.  Does he really give her the silent treatment?  Does he really refuse to help her?  Does he actually call her a dog?  Can he really be so blind that she must open his eyes in order for him to see her humanity?  Well, the answer is either it is all a ploy to test her faith or yes, he really did these ugly and insensitive things.

Our doctrine holds Jesus is perfect, sinless.  His sinlessness is essential if he is going to atone for our sins.  But Jesus is also human and a product of a particular culture and ethnic heritage.  As such he is raised, as we are, in a society which has particular ideas about such things as the role of men, the status of women, and the value of children.  We find Jesus comfortable with the language of slave and master.  And, at times, he expresses his culture’s bias against foreigners. 

As a product of his culture, Jesus consistently elevates the dignity of every human being: defending a woman who listens to his teaching rather than working in the kitchen, criticizing his disciples for trying to shoo away children who want to be blessed, reaching out a touching a leper… I could go on and on.  But here, in this one instance, Jesus manifests the limitations of his cultural upbringing. 

His silence and then his insulting dismissiveness are ironic considering his teaching in the first part of the reading.  Religious leaders from Jerusalem pay a visit on Jesus in his hometown.  They are checking out what he is all about.  They question why his disciples are lax about some of the purification rules before eating.  Jesus answers it is not what goes into the body through the mouth which makes a person unclean, it is what come out of the mouth – the words from your heart – which defiles.  While typical of how Jesus consistently reinterprets the rules of his religion to deepen them spiritually, he himself violates this in the very next paragraph of the reading. 

He leaves his home – most likely to get away from the nagging and nit-picking religious leaders – and heads to the district of Tyre and Sidon; two coastal towns on the Mediterranean in present day southern Lebanon.  Then, like now, it is home to a lot of people outside of the Jewish lineage.  Jesus must know he is going to encounter foreigners while there.  

Yet, he seems taken unawares by his encounter with the Canaanite woman.  He appears to be put off, annoyed, maybe wondering if there is anywhere he can go just to get away.  His behavior reminds me of how I react when I encounter a panhandler outside a store.  I want to look away and pass on by.  I feel irritated and guilty at the same time.  Do I really have to do what this person wants me to do for him?  Let’s just say, these encounters seldom bring out the best in me.

And Jesus’ encounter with this woman doesn’t bring out the best in him.  When the disciples encourage him to send her away Jesus articulates his mission statement: “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.”  It is not clear from the text if the woman is privy to his comment or not, but regardless, she kneels before him and begs for help.  He responds with his comment about not taking food from the table and feeding it to dogs.  She responds with what I might call The Harper Rule (Harper is my Jack Russell): “Even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from the master’s table” (and thank God for this in my home!).

It is at this moment Jesus’ eyes are opened and he see before him not a foreigner, and certainly not a dog, but a mother… a desperate mother who possesses a deep, resilient faith.  Hers is a faith so strong, it upends a cultural limitation and assumption Jesus has absorbed since childhood.  Jesus wakes up and in a profound way he progresses more toward living out God’s dream for all people.

It might sound odd to think the Son of God has work to do on himself, that he makes discoveries about himself along the way, that he more and more grows into the person God desires him to be.  And to be honest, I feel a little bit like I am flirting with heresy here.  No wonder so many commenters elect to say Jesus is merely testing her faith, even though there is not a single shred of evidence in the text to support this. 

And as odd as it feels, there is something very powerful and encouraging about looking at this passage in this new way.  If Jesus can grow and change and develop, then so can we.  And most of us can and do.  I suspect none of us are the exact same person with the exact same views we held when we were – pick an age – 10, 15, 25.  We have all been walking a path of faithfulness with the intention of getting closer and closer to God’s dream for us and for all people.  Today we learn Jesus walked this same path.  We pray he will be our companion and guide along the way.

The Value of Vulnerability

 

Matthew 14:22-33

Proper 14 / Year A

It has not been a good eight days for St. Peter.  In last Sunday’s reading, after he suggests they build three mountaintop booths – one for Moses, one for Elijah, and one for Jesus – no less of an authority than God the Father Almighty tells him to be quiet and listen to Jesus.  And now today, we find Peter being chastised for his lack of faith after stepping out of the boat and walking on the waves toward Jesus before beginning to sink.  Eight days, two readings, and two rebukes.  No, these are a couple of Sundays the great apostle most likely would rather have other readings assigned.

Still, there is something endearing about Peter and his ability to say or do the wrong thing at the wrong time.  Like they say in baseball, it is better to go down swinging than to strike out with the bat on your shoulder.  I have said before I would rather be Peter soaking wet from the waist down than be like the other disciples playing it safe back in the boat.  I would rather have Jesus say to me, “Why did you doubt?” than “Why didn’t you even try?”

Why didn’t you try?  Sometimes we don’t try because it just isn’t import to us.  Sometimes it is because we don’t know how to attack the problem.  And sometimes it is because we just don’t want to embarrass ourselves.  We don’t want to look foolish.  We don’t want to set ourselves up for failure.  We don’t want to make ourselves vulnerable. 

Avoiding vulnerability is a major problem, at least according to the researcher and writer Brené Brown.  She holds we all long for connection and a sense of belonging but have a deep-seated fear of being rejected.  The experience of rejection leads to a profound sense of shame; an emotion we seek to prevent at all costs.  She cites many different ways we numb ourselves to limit vulnerability.  If we don’t expose ourselves, if we don’t allow ourselves to be “seen”, then we can’t be hurt. 

According to Brown, this numbing or hiddenness comes at a huge cost because we can’t be selective about it.  We can’t simply decide to minimize risk and maximize reward.  While being vulnerable opens us to possibility of pain and loss, she notes it is also the “birthplace of joy, creativity, belonging, and love.”  Brown contends you cannot eliminate the difficult and uncomfortable feelings in your life without having it take a toll on the things which make you feel gratitude and happiness.

Every happy marriage begins with person getting down on one knee and proposing (vulnerability).  Every book begins with a writer sending a manuscript to a publisher for evaluation and critique (vulnerability).  Every new recipe you try creates the possibility for a new, favorite meal or a very bad dinner (vulnerability). 

The text tells us when Jesus approaches the boat the disciples are afraid because they think they are seeing a ghost.  He says three things to them.  “Take heart.”  “It is I.”  “Do not be afraid.”  Some versions of the bible translate “Take heart” as “Have courage”, noting the Latin and French roots for both words are the same.  Literally translated, “It is I” is “I am”, harkening back to the holy name God reveals to Moses.  “Do not be afraid” is as much of an invitation as it is a command.

These three statements inspire Peter to be vulnerable in the midst of a fearful situation.  Take heart is an invitation to live life to the fullest, even if it opens to the door to failure and rejection.  In the midst of a world we cannot always predict or control, “I am” reminds us one thing is certain: God is with us and God does not change.  Do not be afraid encourages us to live with a sense of possibility rather than acting to avoid the worst outcome.

Many sermons have been preached about why Jesus decides to build the church upon Peter, whom he names as “a rock”.  I don’t know if there is one single quality about him which merits his calling, but surely his willingness to be vulnerable is a major part of the mix.  Nowhere will this be more evident than when he accepts an invitation to visit the gentile home of Cornelius, a Roman centurion, and to baptize him and his family.  It is a bold move which opens the doors of the church to all people.  It also elicits criticism from several of the leaders of the early church, so of whom are the same folks who played it safe by staying in the boat that night on lake.

We live in an anxious time.  When the pandemic began, we learned how to isolate and insolate in order to feel safe.  It was a good strategy at the time, to be sure.  Now, every Sunday after church I sense a deep joy in the Parish Hall as we spend time with one another.  We are experiencing the value of connecting and belonging.  It is an act of vulnerability, not so much in the sense we might be exposed to a communicable disease, but in that we are risking being in relationship (albeit, in a fairly safe place).  As Jesus bid to his followers long ago, he bids to us: “Take heart!  I am!  Do not be afraid!” 

Perhaps this week you might pay attention to opportunities your reject and invitations you accept.  Be mindful of the value of being vulnerable.

Treasures New and Old

 

Matthew 13:31-33, 44-52

Proper 12 / Year A

The American minister Robert Fulghum made quite a sensation when he published a book of short essays in 1986.  The piece which gives the book its title is called All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten.  It offers folksy wisdom such as play fair, say you are sorry when you hurt somebody, and flush.  It still resonates with us today because we recognize how our lives are built on the foundational truths and values we learned at a young age. 

Those kindergarten lessons are still in us, but we are no longer in kindergarten, are we!  Our life’s project is to apply these basics to an ever-changing, ever-evolving world.  I think this is what Jesus means when he says “the kingdom of heaven is like the master of a household who brings out of his treasure what is new and what is old.”  We may be doing new things, but they are rooted in old values. 

Michael Curry, our Presiding Bishop, has been reminding us for almost a decade, “If it isn’t about love, it isn’t about Jesus.”  This is the old, old truth.  What is new about it is his emphasis how God loves everyone – no exceptions.  There are folks who, for various reasons, have been marginalized by our society for generations; who have been told because of the color of their skin or their sexual orientation or their gender identity or their economic status or their lack of education or a host of other different reasons they are second class citizens and thus are less deserving of love and respect.  What is new – rejecting this kind of thinking – is rooted in what is old – Jesus calls his followers to love without limitations or preconditions.

Treasures new and old.  I don’t have to tell you there are some folks who just want the old treasure served up in the way it has always been.  They label what is new as “woke”, which strikes me as an odd term because the opposite (it seems to me) is “asleep”, not exactly a positive virtue.  Every day the governor of Florida picks another societal target to attack in his campaign to make his state the place where woke goes to die.  It all strikes me as very mean, petty, and pointless, except that it pleases the people who treasure only the old.

Russell Moore, a prominent Baptist minister and theologian, cautions against this.  In his newly released book, Losing Our Religion: An Altar Call for Evangelical America, Moore cautions about the dangers of nostalgia and a desire to return the church to a supposed “golden age.”  He notes surveys which indicate white evangelicals are more likely than other religious groups and the general population to embrace tenets and thinking of white supremacy.  He also links religious nostalgia with foot-dragging on sexual-abuse cover-ups and the expulsion of churches too affirming of role of women in leadership. 

The treasure of what is old can become toxic if it is not accompanied by a treasure that is new.  “Nostalgia”, writes Moore, “—especially of the sort wielded by demagogues and authoritarians—cannot protect religious faith, because it uses religion as a tool for worldly ends, leaving a spiritual void.”  He states it can only be helpful if you understand it to be memories, not blueprints.

Most mainline churches no longer desire to get back to the 1950’s.  We know it isn’t going to happen.  But we are still nostalgic… for February 2020.  “If only we could get back to the way things were before the pandemic,” we say.  There isn’t a day which goes by here at St. Paul’s where I do not long for something we have lost or left behind – a member who no longer attends, a ministry we no longer staff, a program we no longer offer.  What I notice is the more I look back with longing for the old treasure, the less I am able to see and appreciate the new treasures emerging in our common life.

What Russell Moore writes to his fellow Evangelicals applies equally to us:

“Those who wish to hold on to the Old Time Religion must recognize that God is doing something new.  The old alliances and coalitions are shaking apart.  And the sense of disorientation, disillusionment, and political and religious ‘homelessness’ that many Christians feel is not a problem to be overcome but a key part of the process...  [A] pilgrimage cannot start with a road map of certainty but must begin with the cry of faith that says, like the noble disciple Thomas wrongly labeled as a doubter, ‘Lord, we do not know where you are going.  How can we know the way?’”

Every week or so someone asks me if I think we will ever reopen the Food Pantry.  “I don’t think so,” I reply.  The Food Pantry isn’t something we learned in kindergarten, to use Fulghum’s analogy.  What we learned in kindergarten was to connect with and care for our neighbors.  The Food Pantry was a fantastic way to do this when we did it.  Now we connect with and care for our community in new ways – partnering with ForKids and the Suffolk Community Outreach Center being just two new manifestations of our old treasure.  More new treasure is on the horizon.

I feel the same way about our worship life, our fellowship, and our formation programs.  These are core elements of our common life – the old treasures – and they are being expressed in new and faithful ways.  As householders in this place known as St. Paul’s, may we continue to bring out treasures new and old, for this is what the kingdom of heaven is like.

Wheat & Weeds

 

Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43 

Proper 11 / Year A

An aerospace engineer designed a revolutionary new aircraft which promised to be a great critical and commercial success, save for one problem.  Every time the plane got in the air the wings broke off at the fuselage.  Attempts to correct the weakness failed time and again and the designer was baffled.  Finally, when all seemed lost, a janitor spoke up, “I know how to fix it.  Drill a line of small holes across the wings at the place where they snap off.”  Since nothing else had worked the engineer decided to give it a try.  He drilled the holes and the plane flew perfectly.  After the test flight the engineer asked the janitor how he knew this would work.  “If life teaches us one thing it is this,” answered the janitor, “nothing ever tears along the dotted line.”

In a nutshell this is what the Parable of the Wheat and the Weeds is all about.  Why don’t things go the way they are supposed to go?  Why do bad things happen in a field sown with good intentions?  Why does the paper never tear along the dotted line?  Why are there weeds?

Jesus makes one clear point in the parable: in this world there is resistance to good.  Want proof?  Just ask Joshua Tanner, a freshman disc jockey at college radio station.  The school took exception to the rap music he was playing sent him a letter.  It stated Tanner could no longer play his music because it was “too spiritually explicit.”  You heard me right.  It seems Tanner was censured for playing Christian rap music.  There is resistance to good. 

But let’s be honest about one thing.  Too many people use this resistance in order to explain away problems of their own making.  A sign in a New York office proclaims, “If you want to kick the behind of the person responsible for most of your troubles you wouldn’t be able to sit down for weeks!”  As we heard a few weeks ago, St. Paul wrote, “The good I want to do, I don’t do.  And what I do not want to do, I do.”  Jack Paar used to say, “My life seems to be one long obstacle course with me as the chief obstacle.”  Several years ago I transplanted what I thought were wildflowers into the beds around my house.  Turns out they are little more than an invasive perennial that doesn’t play nice with other plants.  The servant asks the master, “How did the weeds get into the field?”  Well, sometimes we put them there ourselves. 

Whether it stems from resistance to good or simply is a byproduct of our own devices, life presents us with many difficulties, but the only factor which will determine if they will grind us down or polish us up is what we make of them.  The philosopher Jean Vieujean once said, “There is much in us, but it often takes some obstacle, accident, or hardship to reveal it.”  Aldous Huxley observed, “Experience is not what happens to a person; it is what a person does with what happens to him.”  St. Paul wrote, “The sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed.”

There are two options you can take when weeds sprout up in your garden.  There are two paths to go down when you face adversity.  One is typified by the old Jew who had seen everything from the inhumanity of the concentration camps to present day anti-Semitism.  “O Lord,” he prayed in the synagogue, “isn’t it true we are your chosen people?”  A voice boomed back from heaven, “Yes, the Jews are my chosen people.”  “Well then,” moaned the old man, “isn’t it time you chose somebody else?”  This is a path which finds no wheat among weeds in life.  The other path notes before any bottle of medicine can be used for good, the instructions indicate it first must be well-shaken.  Immanuel Kant said a dove might consider wind resistance to be a problem, but without it flight would be impossible.  From this perspective we realize the only path to glory goes not around the weeds, but through them.

The path of adversity can be of great benefit and though life may buffet us with the worst it can offer, we always have the power to choose how we will respond; be it positively or negatively.  A psychologist did a study on two brothers who grew up in a home ruled by an abusive and alcoholic father.  As adults, one of the brothers became just like his dad while the other turned out the exact opposite.  The psychologist privately asked each one why he turned out as he did.  Even though their lives had gone in dramatically different directions, each had the same answer: “What else would you expect with a father like mine?”  It is not what happens to you in life but how you react to it which makes all the difference.

John Claypool was a Baptist preacher before finding his way into the Episcopal Church.  He says of his life everything came easy to him.  He was successful in his ministry.  He had a beautiful wife and great marriage.  They had several happy, well-adjusted children.  Then, without warning, his little girl was diagnosed with Leukemia, a horrible disease which eventually took her life.  Claypool’s world took a cruel and devastating turn.  This is what he said from the pulpit:

“We do not get all the answers and then live life in light of our understanding.  We must rather plunge into life – meeting what we have to meet and experiencing what we have to experience – and in light of our living try to understand.”

These are the words of a person who understands both the wheat and the weeds and why Jesus says to let them grow up together.  When John Claypool wrote a book about his life he gave it the title Tracks of a Fellow Struggler.

I submit it is only possible to live this way in the light of the Gospel.  If Jesus had not claimed to be the Lord of the wheat and the weeds, if our God was not sovereign over the fields of our existence, if there was no point to which befalls us, then why go on?  Thanks be to God all of life, when offered humbly to God, is redeemable.  Thanks be to God the trials and tribulations of the world can never overcome us if we allow the Lord of life to walk with us.  And thanks be to God someday the wheat I plant will be harvested and the weeds – no matter what their origin – will be removed.

The Sower

 

Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23

Proper 10 / Year A

Some commentators refer to Matthew’s thirteenth chapter as “The Sermon from a Boat”, as opposed to the more famous “Sermon on the Mount.”  Jesus is hanging out at on Galilean lakeside when a large crowd gathers around him.  So large, in fact, he has to get into a fishing boat in order to have a space from which to teach.  And teach he does.  Over the next few weeks we will read the content of what has to say, all of which he sets forth in parables.  

The word ‘parable’ comes from two root words - para and bolos.  Para means “alongside of” (think of the word parallel).  Bolas means “to throw” or “to cast.”  So a parable is a story where something is thrown against something else.  For Jesus, his parables are stories of familiar activities and events thrown against deeper and perhaps hidden spiritual things in order to shed light on what the kingdom of heaven is like.

This morning we read what we might call ‘the leadoff hitter’ in Jesus’ all-star story line-up… the sower who spreads seeds.  Now, all parables have been given names, mostly by scholars and bible translators.  These names can be helpful or misleading.  As an example of the later, the title “The Parable of the Prodigal Son” diverts our attention away from the older brother who refuses to welcome back his wayward sibling.  

Some suggest today’s reading should be called “The Parable of the Soils” and to be sure Jesus focuses much attention on the different types of earth which receive the scattered seed resulting in very different outcomes.  But, with this parable, Jesus himself gives it a name so it would seem reckless to deviate from it.  He calls this “The Parable of the Sower.”

Jesus tells us a farmer does the sowing.  He refers to the seed as being ‘the message of the kingdom” and as “the word.”  This suggests farmer is God the Father and the seed is Jesus the Word.  More than one commentator has suggested the farmer, by scattering seed so indiscriminately, is wasteful.  His approach, they contend, should be less random and more targeted.  The farmers who spend this day at the beach listening to Jesus surely are thinking about how carefully they sow resources as precious as seed only where it has the best chance to thrive.

But, as I always say about parables, this is Jesus’ story and he gets to tell it any way he wants to.  Rather than wasteful, what Jesus wants us to know through the metaphor of the farmer with his wide casting method is that God is generous and desires to reach each and every person.  For Jesus, God the Father is not angry, vengeful, or punitive.  For him, God holds there are no exclusions and no outsiders.  The message of the kingdom Jesus proclaims is not MIGA - Make Israel Great Again.  God cares deeply and equally for each and every person and this is why everyone receives the Word without preconditions or limitations.  The seed - the Word of God’s love - is made known to everyone… because everyone is precious to God… no exceptions.  

There are at least two things Jesus understands about his seed.  First, every seed is going to die in or on the ground it which it lands.  Jesus will say in another parable, “Unless a seed falls into the earth and dies it cannot bear fruit.”  Jesus the Word does not come into the world with great power and might, but rather humble and vulnerable.  He says he comes to serve, not to be served.  Humility, vulnerability, and service are the hallmarks of God’s seed once it dies in the soil and erupts into new life.  

The second thing Jesus knows about the seed is not all of it will make it.  Some will sprout up, but for various reasons, not survive.  And rather than try to consign particular individuals, groups, or movements to being one type of soil or another, I am acutely aware how the soil of my own soul is a composite of all four conditions.  A part of me is so densely packed the Word of God never even penetrates it for consideration.  There are other parts of me where the evil one has a hold and it is tough to shake it off.   There is a part of me wrapped up in the cares and concerns of the world and in spite of my intentions, these things chock out God’s Word in my life.  And, thankfully, there are places in my soul where the seeds find fertile soil and produce an abundance of humility, vulnerability, and service.  I am confident you see this in your own life as well. 

Perhaps the best known line from Oscar Wilde’s 1893 play A Woman of No Importance is this: “The only difference between the saint and the sinner is every saint has a past and every sinner has a future.”  It is a sentiment much in keeping with the message of today’s parable.  Each person is precious to God and God will withhold nothing in order for any and every one of us to know divine Love.  It is a love which is capable of producing in each of us a harvest of goodness and godliness beyond measure.  Thanks be to God.

 

Impulses & Mortification

 

Romans 7:15-25

Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30

Proper 9 / Year A

I find it to be a law that when I want to do what is good, evil lies close at hand.  For I delight in the law of God in my inmost self, but I see in my members another law at war with the law of my mind, making me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members.

I have always found this passage from Paul to be some of the most genuine and compelling verses in scripture.  Its power lies in its brutal honesty.  It is a self-disclosure of his struggle to do the right thing - a struggle we can easily recognize taking place within us.  A comedian once quipped the bible basically talks about two things: wine and a lot of stuff that is hard to believe, but what Paul is describing here is neither.  He confesses to an inner struggle we all know all too well.

“Wretched man that I am,” says Paul!  “Who will rescue me from this body of death?”, which is a very good question.  The answer for Paul is only the atoning death of Christ can set him free, but allow me to add something to this.

Sigmund Freud holds human beings are driven by impulses.  Many of these impulses are strong and unidentified until they are denied.  We Christians who practice fasting and self-denial during Lent get a first-hand opportunity to discover just how powerful some impulses can be.  All impulses stem from basic human needs – survival, security, nourishment, love, etc. – and so they are both good and necessary.  But they can also become distorted.  The impulse for survival can become a will to power.  The impulse for food can become gluttony.  Freud believes within every one of us there is something he names the superego – a parent-like voice of morality whose function is to moderate our impulses and keep them from running out of control. 

Psychiatrists are finding the superego is not present in serial killers.  It has been destroyed by childhood trauma or simply never developed.  Thus these killers have no conscience, no sense of right or wrong, no feelings of guilt or remorse, and no internal conflict where a moral voice advocates for behavioral control.  There is only unregulated and perverted impulse.  Given this knowledge, we might want to say to Paul his internal struggle is actually an indication of health and well-being.  The mere fact he wants to exercise control over his impulses indicates he is on the right path.

Christian tradition has always made a distinction between penance and mortification – two practices which don’t get a lot of run these days.  Penance is an act of making reparation for one’s sins.  Think of it this way: when you act out on a distorted impulse – say, losing your temper – penance looks like making amends; perhaps asking the forgiveness of those who bore the brunt of your wrath.   Penance is associated with actual behavior.

Mortification, on the other hand, is associated not with actions, but with impulses.  The very word in Latin (which also gives us the word “mortician”) means “to put to death.”  In the Christian tradition mortification is a conscious form of self-denial with the aim of subduing distorted impulses (those desires which, if acted out, hurt us or hurt others or draw us away from the love of God).  It is an attempt to strengthen the power of our own will and the power of God’s will in our lives.  The Christian practice of mortification falls within the gamut of self-denial, abstinence, self-imposed poverty, wearing abrasive clothing (such as hair shirts) to the extreme of self-flagellation.

Paul is right, when we want to do good evil is always close at hand.  There simply is no way of escaping it.   God has created us in such a way that the inner voice Freud identified is there to help us navigate these treacherous waters.  At the heart of the Christian faith, at the core of our proclamation, is the truth God loves us and accepts us.  Yes, God desires our perfection.  Yes, God seeks to dispel our inner darkness.  But no, God does not condemn us or forsake us because our impulses do not always conform with God’s holy will.  God comes to us in our weakness and shows us pure love. 

Jesus, seeing how the religious leaders of his day laid it on thick and heavy, Jesus, observing how they sniffed out the inner struggles of the faithful, Jesus, knowing they sought to convert the weakness of good people into self-loathing in order for their own position in the religious hierarchy of the day might be more firm and prominent, made this offer: “Come to me, all you who are weary and carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.  I will not lessen the standards, but neither will I impose artificial burdens of human religion as a means of deliverance from internal struggles.  Take my yoke upon you and learn from me.  I am gentle and humble of heart and in me you will find rest for your weary souls.  My yoke is easy and my burden I light.”

The Christian Church is not a place where hurtful behavior is dismissed without the call to repentance and the command to make amends, but neither is it a place where good people are to be beaten down because inner impulses suggest hurtful actions.  The Church of Jesus Christ calls us to purity of action by providing us with spiritual resources aimed at strengthening will power.  Jesus calls this his “yoke” and in love he offers his yoke to each one of us.

Even a Cup of Cold Water

 

Matthew 10:40-42

Proper 8 / Year A

Jesus said, “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.”

Lu Mascaro decided to attend a religious discussion group the evening after she quit her job.  Although she did not know any of the members and felt a bit exposed, she sensed a need for support and encouragement.  She writes,

From the moment I stepped into the house everyone was welcoming. The discussion was interesting and respectful, and I felt myself relax.  Then suddenly, someone asked me if there was anything I wanted to share.  Without hesitation and with a quivering voice, I poured my heart out.

While I was talking, someone opened the door.  The dog barked. People got distracted.  I instantly felt ashamed and self-conscious, with an urge to hold my breath and not disturb anyone.  Was I too boring?  What was probably only a split second played out in my head like a film scene in slow motion.  My daze was interrupted when a woman across from me gently called my name.  Looking directly into my eyes she said, “I’m listening.”  I could feel myself breathe again.

A cup of water.  Attentiveness to another.  Simple gestures matter, don’t they.  Mark Twain once said kindness is a language the deaf can hear and the blind can see.  And when you speak this language two things happen.  First, someone else is blessed.  And second, you become a better person for it because, as Jesus teaches, one of the great paradoxes of life is the more you give yourself away the richer you become. 

At my dentist appoint last week, Beth Bagley was bragging about her grandson Landon.  “Do you know what he did the other day?  We were watching TV and he got up and headed toward the kitchen.  ‘Grandma’, he said, ‘can I get you something to drink?’”  I thought about that for a moment or two and then said, “Over the course of my entire life I don’t think I have ever said those words.”  Landon’s simple gesture of thoughtfulness and Beth’s story about it got me pondering much about my self-centered life.

If giving a person a cup of water leads to an eternal reward, what other simple gestures might we do to make another person’s world brighter and better?

Google this question and you will discover number one on every list is write a thank you note.  I am pleased many of you have adopted a Chanco staff person for the summer.  I am already hearing how much it means to them to know you care and you are praying for them.  I spent yesterday with our international staffers and was delighted to learn Wanda Rector wrote a note to each of them after hosting them last weekend.  Marty Wilson has adopted one of the international staffers and that person beamed a radiant smile when I asked her if she had gotten her card yet.

Number 2: Tone down aggressive driving.  If someone uses a turn signal, give them the space to do what they need to do – especially truck drivers.  Newsflash, no trophies are awarded to interstate drivers who pass the most cars.  It is meant to be a place where we all cooperate in order to ensure everyone arrives safely to their destination.

Next, let a mother with small children go ahead of you in a checkout line.  Parents have a lot on their minds and a lot of balls to juggle.  Any small kindness you can show to them means another drop or two does not get added into a bucket already overflowing. 

Here is something which goes a long way – compliments and expressing appreciation.  I have said before churches are gratitude factories.  A few of us here are paid to do what we do.  Still, your kind words go a long way to helping us realize our efforts are worthwhile and make a difference.  Everything else in our church happens because someone volunteers to do it.  A pat on the back in recognition of peoples’ contributions has real value.

A final idea… share a positive experience on-line, especially for great service from a local business.  Social media can be a bad news dumping ground and being exposed to negativity takes a toll on us all.  Why not use your voice to turn it into a blessing garden where people who follow you and see your posts are reminded there is goodness – and lots of it – in this world!   

Researchers have found a person who offers a gesture of kindness to another tends to undervalue its impact on the recipient compared with how the recipient rates what it means to him or her.  Marisa Franco, a psychologist and author, contends “We have a negativity bias when it comes to social connection.  We just don’t think the impact of our behaviors is as positive as it is.”

I don’t know how Jesus did his research, but long ago he decerned the same thing.  Whoever gives even a cup of cold water…  I will leave you with this from Robert Lewis Stevenson: “Don’t judge each day by the harvest you reap, but by the seeds you plant.”  Seeds are small things, aren’t they.  It doesn’t take a whole lot of effort to spread them, just intentionality.  Go and do some sowing.