2/16/20
(Deuteronomy 30:15-20; Ps. 119:1-8; 1 Corinthians 3:1-9; Matthew 5:21-37
I have a friend who’s a long-time parishioner at a local church; she’s in her 70’s, and not long ago her two grown children, and their families, were visiting her for the weekend; and on Sunday morning, as she was getting ready to go to church – by herself, the others weren’t in the habit – one of her kids said, Mom, why do you go to church?
Knowing her, and the kind of children she would have brought up, I’m sure it was a sincere question. And I think she was probably glad of the chance to answer it; and not just because it was her kids and she wants them to understand her; but because it’s part of our life as Christians, to ask ourselves that question. It’s healthy, and it’s necessary, because life is always new, and the answer is always evolving. Why do I go to church? Why am I here?
There are two ways to answer that question. One is short-range, and specific: what am I doing here today? What’s going on in my life that I want to work on here, now, in this worship service; rather than just sit here and watch it happen? What’s on my mind, and my heart? Who do I need to pray for? What am I anxious, or angry, or fearful, about, that I need to offer up to God? What am I thankful for today? Is there something I need to confess, to face the truth about? Am I really present here today? Lord, help me to be present today.
And there’s the question in its larger context: Why do I come to church in the first place? Why do I come here for all of that? Of course, there are many ways to answer that question. But for me, one of them would be: we come to church, on a regular basis, because we want to live truthful, honest lives, in a world that’s noisy and confusing, and in which we are pulled, powerfully, in many directions. And here, in church, we’re not going to allow ourselves to be pulled: there is one God, one source of truth, who governs our lives, and whom we strive to recognize; and we’re going to be intentional about that. We want to see, speak, and do the truth. And we come here to learn about that because we can feel that the truth is here, uniquely, in this Christian story that we soak ourselves in; that we explore together, that we celebrate together, that we work on together, week in and week out. That’s why we come to church.
I’m thinking about this because the lectionary readings for today, the sixth Sunday in Epiphany, all seem to point toward an answer to this question.
On first hearing, these three readings don’t appear to have anything in common, other than the fact that all of the people we hear from in them – Moses, Paul, and Jesus – all sound just a bit like they got out of the wrong side of the bed this morning. Because – each in his own way – they’re all three responding to the same truth about us humans (about all of us together, and each one of us individually), which is: how easy it is for us to go wrong; and, at the same time, how simple it is to go right. (Notice that “easy” and “simple” are not the same thing: something may be simple, and still be very hard to do.)
The sayings of Jesus in the gospel passage sound like a grab-bag of judgments on various points of the Law, which seem unrelated, except to say that we’re not nearly as hard on ourselves as we should be, and shame on us. But if we look at them a little more closely, a common theme emerges. Jesus mentions a bunch of things that the Law prohibits: you shall not murder, you shall not commit adultery, you shall not swear falsely; you shall divorce only in the proper manner as prescribed by law. But Jesus goes further: he says, forget murder: if you’re angry with someone, if you call someone a fool, you’re just as liable to judgment. Forget adultery: if you look at someone with lust in your heart, you’re just as liable to judgment; forget swearing falsely: if you swear at all – if you use an oath of any kind – you’re just as liable to judgment; and so on. Sounds crabby, doesn’t it?
But it’s not that. In each of these comparisons– as different as they appear to be: murder and casual insult, the act of adultery and a lustful glance, swearing falsely and swearing at all – what we’re actually doing, in both cases, Jesus sees, is putting ourselves in place of God. We’re shoving God out of the way, ignoring God’s presence in our lives. The degree of the offense may be different, but we shouldn’t kid ourselves, Jesus says: in both, the movement of the spirit is in essentially the same direction. Even when the offense seems small – is small – we’re bypassing God, shutting God out; and we need to be aware of that; because when we do that, we cut ourselves off from the one true source of love and peace and joy. That’s why Jesus cares about this. It’s not about punishment: not about making sure the guilty get their just deserts. It’s about staying awake to the life of God that is right there waiting for us: God in Christ, who tells us, I have come that you might have life, and have it in abundance. How easy it is to forget that; how easy it is to go wrong.
And in today’s reading from First Corinthians, Paul points us toward how simple it is to go right. As in most of his letters, Paul is here writing back to a church he founded and has moved on from, but with whom he stays in touch, to make sure they stay on track. And the message has gotten to Paul that there’s a problem: the church in Corinth has split into rival factions. One of the leaders there is a man named Apollos, and some church members have been saying, we need to follow what this guy is teaching; and others saying, no, Paul’s the man; and that’s what they’re squabbling about.
Now, Paul writes nothing here about the substance of what Apollos is saying; nor, whatever that might be, does Paul say, he’s wrong. In fact, he actually endorses Apollos, on a level with himself: Paul writes, I planted, Apollos watered; but this is what’s important: God gave the growth. So neither the one who plants nor the one who waters is anything, but only God who gives the growth. And this is not an idea, for Paul, it’s not a theory he’s proposing, or something which he hopes is true: it’s a description of reality, of the way things actually work, in life. And that’s what we need to focus on. The way to go right is simple: turn to God: keep our eyes on God: only God gives the growth.
Only God gives the growth. That same truth is expressed beautifully, and powerfully, in words of Moses that we heard in the first lesson today. This reading is from very near the end of the book of Deuteronomy, very near the end of the long, long story of Moses (four whole books of the Bible.) He’s led the people of Israel out of slavery in Egypt, over many miles, many years; and they’re now at the very edge of the Promised Land, finally, on the bank of the River Jordan. Moses also led them through the wilderness of the spirit, to a relationship with God; and now he gives them the Law (that’s the book of Deuteronomy), to guide them forward, after he’s gone, which is going to happen very soon (Moses dies four chapters later.). And at the very end, as we heard today, Moses says, “See, I have set before you today life and prosperity, death and adversity“ (that is, according to the Law, things to do, and things to avoid.) And having put those two before them, his final word to his people is this: “Choose life…, loving the Lord your God, obeying him, and holding fast to him; for that means life to you….”
Choose life. It’s no different for us. I think that’s a pretty darn good capsule description of what we do here: of why we come to church: we are here to choose life. However imperfectly, however messily we do it, we choose to open our eyes to God’s new creation that is going on around us all the time. We choose continually to face in that direction, to join in that work: we plant, and we water, knowing that God will give the growth. So we give thanks to God. We give thanks for this life that we have here together, and for the new life that we see is forever springing up around us. Thanks be to God.