Proper 18c—September 9, 2007

The Rev. Ellen Tillotson

 

            Stark words from our Scriptures on this September morning., both from the Old Testament and the new.         

            Just before the passage we read today, Deuteronomy rings with affirmation of God’s love and care for the people, the reassurance that their hard times will lead to peace and prosperity—if, as it says in this passage, they step up to the call to live in the fullness of their relationship with God, into its demands for their right living as well as its promise of final joy.  The writer of Deuteronomy is clear:  Life means obedience, living the good society that the Law sets forth, treating one another fairly and the poor with compassion

            Paul’s letter to Philemon—we have almost the whole letter this morning—also shows Paul holding Philemon to a high standard of expectation and behavior.  His runaway slave Onesimus has been serving Paul in prison, where Onesimus converted to Chrisitanity, and is now being sent back to make things right with Philemon.  Paul, in subtle way, is asking Philemon to forgive his runaway—who may have stolen something—and to take him back as a brother in the faith.  Even that relationship is to come under the transforming power of the risen Christ, Paul says. 

            And in this morning’s Gospel, Jesus has more of his tough words about the demands of following him.  Strong words—“Whoever does not hate father or mother or brother or sister cannot be my disciple.”

            Jesus is talking here about the demands of discipleship, of following him, of learning his way.  It’s important not to take this too literally, but to allow the affront that it presents us with to shock us into looking at it again.  What he is saying is that, to know God in the depths of one’s being, to live the kind of connected-to the deep source of being life Jesus lived, we have to be prepared to forsake conventional ties and be brought to a new place, even a new family, of a sort.  He is telling his disciples to be prepared for a shake-up of all their allegiances in the light of their loyalty to him and to his Way of love.  He encourages them to know what lies ahead, to count the cost of a life lived with eyes wide open to the suffering of others, to God’s way of working that is so different from human ways of working in this world.  He tells them that to follow him, their lives will be lived not for their own sakes, but for the sake of that divine work healing and bringing life to others, to the crying world.  They won’t be able to stop at caring for their families and seeing to their own comforts.  The will have to love everyone, everywhere, and to live on other’s behalf.  They will be asked to let go of anything that possesses them—more important than letting go of what they possess—anything that holds them from the fullness of serving God’s purpose.  Too much materialism, yes, and their concerns about status, but also they must continually dispossess themselves of jealousy, pride of place, self-pity, self-importance, the worry about appearances, their own comforts, even.

            As some reflection I read this week says, I think this passage is about clarity, about seeing what is of true value in this life and clearing away so much of what distracts us from what matters.  About knowing what abides when the inessential is stripped away by illness, or profound change, or the threat of losing someone we love, or—Jesus would say—giving our hearts wholly to God.  It is, I think, about attaining the quality of abundant life for which we were created, the abundant life that Jesus describes as the kingdom of God, a pearl of great price, worth everything, bestowing everything back resplendent and new. 

            I think Jesus may be saying that something dries up in us when we write our lives too small, when we let small concerns eat up our hours and our energy, when we live selfishly, self-centeredly.  And I know that the scriptures are right when they suggest that a faith practice that asks nothing of us, asks no change, no struggle, no sacrifice, offers little in the way of life-sustaining vigor when the times present us with difficulties and pain. 

            As we begin another program year at Trinity in these weeks, I’ve been thinking about what we do and why, and what it is we ask of each other in this place, what I think God is asking of us as individuals in this community of faith. 

            Every year when we begin our Church School year, there are some parents who try us out and then leave us for a church which makes fewer demands on their time in order to send their children to Sunday school.  Some years ago Trinity made the commitment to the spiritual growth of our children by designing a program that we believe will equip them to face the challenges of their lives with a sturdy faith.  We welcomed them to worship with us (and their teachers, who said they were starving to death when they couldn’t attend a whole service!).  We put Sunday school in between the services and moved service times so that families could worship together—because we think that’s important—and so that children could have sufficient time, one hour a week, to reflect on the Christian faith with their peers and committed adults.  We do ask a little more time, a little more commitment, but we believe it is for the health of our children’s souls. 

            And we often ask each other to give way a bit for the needs of someone else.  This is an essential part of any Christian community.  We ask—and expect—that the life we share as members of Trinity Church will take into account each other’s needs, all our differences, and that in this common space and time we will behave in ways that aren’t distracting for others, that will respect the needs of all to have some quiet time, to have a sense of order, to make room for the needs of the weak.  Last year the folks who worship regularly at 8:00 were asked to give way a bit so that we might sandwich in another service of worship geared to our young families.  Those families have been profoundly appreciative of the time and effort given so they can worship with their very young, attention-challenged children.  We ask our choir, week by week, to come prepared and focused so that their leadership of our music might be inspiring to us.  They give of their time, their talent and considerable discipline to offer to God and to us their very best. 

            We ask one another to share in the work of this parish, in our church and reaching out to the world for whom Christ died.  Ushers and Chalice ministers and visitors and counting stewards and coffee hour servers and acolytes and Altar Guild members all have a part in offering our worship week by week.  Each of these ministries takes commitments, and discipline.  Each of them, in this place, is done with love and great care. 

            We share in the financial support of this parish, these buildings, our staff support.  We ask one another, week by week, year by year, to make a meaningful financial pledge to help us keep the lights on, the Sunday school running, the choir singing, that our common life might be strengthened by each of us doing what we can—because the Christian faith is a commitment to a common endeavor, to communion with one another, to the love that is to shape us for service to the world.

            And we ask of one another support and inspiration in our community work, on the job, in our homes, so that we might go from this place to carry Christ to our several homes and work sites, that the work of Christ might help to make this world better, more like the realm of God’s love it was created to be.  We ask each other to live up to the call of Jesus to serve, accountability for the faith, practice in forgiveness, in letting other’s ‘be’ as they are, different from us.  We ask each other for the benefit of the doubt, support when we are struggling, another chance when we mess up. 

            All these things are the costs of following Jesus, the price we pay to know God not only in the hours we spend here, but in our whole lives, our entire beings.  Practicing Christian love with each other, we learn to share and grow that love outside these doors.  And it sustains us, or it can, if we exercise the muscle of our faith in regular prayer, in caring for one another, in service here and in the world.

            Jesus promised that his followers would know life abundant.  And God has given us all we need to know that life in its fullness.  Those of us who are adults know that sometimes, though, our hands and hearts and minds and lives are too full of other things—other attitudes, too full of ourselves, to grasp that fullness of living that is ours in Christ Jesus.  The invitation of the scriptures this morning is to let go, so that you may live; open your hands to receive God’s grace; release whatever holds you back from love and open your heart and life to the Gift.  That’s my prayer, for each and all of us.  And that’s work worth doing in this place and in the world.  AMEN