sermon by Torin Eikler
Matthew 20: 1-16 Jonah 3:1-4:4
Ahh … the story of Jonah.
Several weeks ago when I took an afternoon to look at the scriptures coming up for this quarter, I have to admit that I was excited that Jonah was on the list. It’s one of my favorite books in the First Testament … and even in the whole bible. And, I know I’m not alone because when I sat down with Cindy to plan hymns for today’s worship, she said it was one of her favorite stories too. I don’t think I would be too far off in saying that it is well-loved among most of us.
And why not, it has all the makings of a great fairy tale – a rebellious hero, an angry god, a monstrous fish, and a long journey with more than a few twists and turns. We hear the tale from the time we are young and we remember it because it’s just a little bit scary, but everyone comes out okay in the end. It’s even been immortalized in the children’s movie Pinocchio where the little wooden boy meets his Geppetto in the belly of a whale and helps him escape. Less well known is the story “The Adventures of Baron Von Munchousen” which I grew up listening to on an LP along with “The Three Little Pigs.” I especially like the end of the story with the bush that “magically” grows to shade Jonah and the worm that comes along and kills the bush overnight with a few well-placed bites.
All in all, it’s a story that we tend to carry with us, and as we grow and mature, the story changes and develops accordingly. Not long ago, in fact, one of the young people in this congregation made a point of asking me about the nature of the beast that swallowed Jonah and how he survived.
A: Do you think Jonah really could have survived if he was eaten like that?
T: Well, whales have really big mouths. So, maybe he just sat on the whale’s tongue.
A: But it doesn’t say it was a whale. It says a big fish.
T: That’s true. It could have been a fish, but at that time, whales were considered fish.
A: Okay, but wouldn’t he have drowned anyway. I mean the fish or the whale or whatever was underwater all that time.
T: Well, when whales have the mouths closed; there is actually a lot of air inside along with the water. You know like in the movie “Finding Nemo” when the fish are in the whale’s mouth, they are kind of in a puddle.
Well, the conversation went on a little longer, but you get the picture. And that’s how it begins for us, raising questions when it doesn’t stand up to the logic of the world we learn about in school. But it doesn’t stop there.
When I was in my three-week orientation for Brethren Volunteer Service we had a bible study almost every morning, and one morning our visiting leader chose Jonah as the subject. That morning, we didn’t talk about the fish/whale controversy or the repentance of Ninevah or even the mercy God showed them (mercy that doesn’t seem to extend to the innocent sailors if you think about it). We talked about Jonah’s effort to run away from God’s calling, and ended up in pairs talking about which projects in the list might be our Ninevah. It was probably the only bible study that I went into eagerly, but I came out of it feeling challenged and full of new questions.
The more we spend time thinking about the story of Jonah, the more questions seem to come up.
Questions about the nature of discipleship – what does God actually require of us? Will we have to go to dangerous places and do things we don’t want to do?
Questions about the nature of God – will we be protected even when we choose against God’s will?
Questions about the world we live in – are the laws of nature set and stable or will God “play around” with nature to make a point?
Questions about the nature of grace - is God vindictive and changeable or is God merciful and slow to anger? Is grace free for all or does grace at least require the worship of Christ?
The piece of the story we heard today answers some of those questions – at least partly, and it brings a few of them to the fore. It doesn’t deal with the “fun” parts of the plot … no ships, no storms, no whales, no miraculous worms, no slinking off in the middle of the night. This is the part that deals with real people and, particularly, with the gritty messy part of Jonah’s humanity and his relationship with God.
It’s the hard part of the story for us because it casts Jonah in a petulant, belligerent light … and in that light, Jonah looks an awful lot like we do.
Have any of you ever been on the interstate, cruising along but only going the speed limit because you are stuck in the middle of a pack of trucks? Finally an opening comes and you move out into the passing lane and you’re relieved to get back up to 71 or 72 (because you know that extra 5 or 6 miles per hour will make all the difference right?). You pass one truck … then two. And all of the sudden, someone else comes flying up behind you in an SUV and sits right on your bumper, honking and flashing the head lights. You think, “Well you can just wait until I’ve passed the next three trucks because I’m not getting over!” But, you can’t keep it up. That sense of relief you felt melts into anxiety, frustration, and anger because that stupid jerk behind you just won’t back off! So, you move over in that almost-too-small space just before the last truck to let the car pass only to discover that about ten other cars have backed up. Then another truck or two join the queue, and you’re stuck in the middle again, fuming at that one speedster who ruined your drive.
Every once in awhile, when that happens to me, I am just pleased as punch to discover, a few miles down the road, that an attentive state trooper has pulled over that very same SUV. A satisfied smile spreads across my face, and I think to myself, “Well, that’s what you get for speeding.” (never mind the fact that the flashing lights in the distance made me hit the brakes so that I didn’t cruise by at the extra fast speed I was hoping would make up for lost time.)
Most of us have little experiences like that from time to time – moments when we feel that injustice has been appropriately redressed. When a reckless driver gets a ticket or when a fellow student is finally caught cheating or when it finally comes to light that one of our leaders lied to us in order to get an unpopular policy pushed through. It feels so good to be the righteous one in those moments whether we really are or not. And, when it doesn’t happen, we grumble about the unfairness of the situation. We get particularly angry when we realize that the powers that be know about the injustice and choose to overlook it or forgive the perpetrator.
It comes as no great surprise, then, that Jonah is angry when Ninevah is spared the wrath of God. They had been living “the good life” while Jonah and all of his friends and family – all of the faithful – had been towing the line and following the commandments. They were the cheating, reckless, unfaithful jerks that everyone wanted to see get what was coming to them. And, they were let off the hook. Even worse, Jonah himself was the one who had to show them the way out. Even though he knew, as we know, that mercy and grace are wonderful things that we all need and that we are supposed to offer to everyone, deep down inside, we all wish that some people would be spared forgiveness and just get what they deserve.
And that’s not even the whole of it. Our fixation on justice and fairness even makes us resentful when people get more than we think they should or, perhaps more accurately, when we don’t get as much as we think we should compared to others. When other people take the credit for something they didn’t have any part in (or perhaps even tried to ruin), it gets our hackles up. And when we do all the work on a group project and everyone gets equal credit, we get frustrated.
That’s what the parable of the vineyard is all about. Everyone who worked on that project got the same credit – no difference between those who worked a full 12-hour day and those who only worked the last couple of hours. It’s not that the amount was unfair or unreasonable. It was the standard wages for day workers. The issue was that not everyone did the same amount of work and so it feels unfair to pay everyone the same amount. Even when we get exactly what we expected – what we normally think is right – we just can’t be happy if other people get more for less.
But that’s not the way God’s grace and mercy work – thank God. It’s not about justice and injustice. It’s not even about what we think we deserve for what we have done. If it really did work that way, either we would all reap the rewards of our living – which is never perfect enough to earn salvation - or we would have to live in fear of a God who really does just sort of spin the wheel and zap whoever loses with the proverbial bolt of lighting.
So, why do we get so angry sometimes or feel so cheated when others receive what we would hope for ourselves? Is it because we still believe the message of our culture – a message born of the “Protestant Work Ethic?” In some part of our selves, do we believe that we get what we deserve for the work we put in? Perhaps we have made our peace with the gift of grace by saying, “Sure grace if free. Of course it is, but once we have it we have to work to keep it. That’s discipleship, right?” Maybe, being bounded, finite people, we just can’t get our heads all the way around the idea of unlimited, unmerited grace. Or maybe just like our Jewish brother we like to see a good stoning coming the way of those who deserve it – as long as it isn’t us.
Yet, God’s mercy and grace are limitless, and they are freely given. They cannot be bought through the sweat of our brow or the work of our souls. There is no condition put on them – no requirement except that we accept them. Everyone is offered the same thing – a gift that is beyond our imagination, a gift that could never be made or earned or purchased. And each of us in our own turn has found the joy and freedom that came when we received that gift with eagerness and gratitude.
So, let us hear the words of our God echoing down the centuries and right into our own lives – “Is it right for you to be angry?” Let us hear those words and embrace the answer so completely that our peevish, belligerent hearts melt with compassion for everyone we meet. Let us accept, once again, the grace that we cannot earn – the merciful grace that frees us from anger and worry so that we can offer the same hope to others and rejoice in what they receive.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Can Love Be Learned?
sermon by Torin Eikler
Romans 13:8-14, Psalm 119:33-40
Have you ever tried to teach something to someone who just can’t seem to grasp the concept? I don’t mean someone who is being intentionally dense or doesn’t care to put in the time and energy to understand. I mean someone who really isn’t ready or able to understand what you’re trying to teach? It’s a helpless feeling … wondering if you just aren’t finding the right words … growing more and more frustrated with your pupil until you are ready to chuck the whole process out the window … beginning to question if you really understand yourself.
I’m pretty sure any of you who have raised children can identify with those moments. I know I have felt that way many, many times already as Carrie and I have tried to help Sebastian understand new things.
(I hope you’ll excuse me for using Sebastian as an example so many times. There just seem to be so many parallels between a child’s learning and our own growth as we mature in faith.)
Anyway, it seems that no matter how many times we explain - about things as simple as cleaning up a mess (or not making it in the first place) or as important as not throwing rocks or whatever it may be at another person and the danger of running into the street - he doesn’t seem to get it. The concepts of self-preservation or being careful not to hurt others are just beyond his capacity, and we can only keep trying to find patience that we don’t always seem to have in the hope that the time when he does get it comes sooner rather than later.
But the struggle to learn – really learn – difficult concepts is not the province of children alone. How many of you, for example, could explain Einstein’s theory of general relativity? Or how internal combustion power, friction, and momentum work together to determine fuel efficiency? How about computer chips? Or how Christ could be fully human without sinning and fully divine if he did sin?
(Let's do that again and if you could raise your hands, that would be great 'cause I’m still having difficulty with this stuff myself, and I could use some help. General Relativity? … 2, okay … engines? … 3, good … computers? … a couple kind ofs, all right … Christology? … no? Well two out of four isn’t too bad. I’ll talk with you all later.)
These are difficult questions for most of us because they lead into really big, complex ideas that aren’t a direct part of our experience (or at least we don’t realize that they are.) And, for the most part, we are content to let them sit there in all their incomprehensible splendor as long as it doesn’t seem to affect our lives too much. So, we look for simple rules that will help us get along without understanding all the complexities.
One of my father’s favorite movies is “The Gods Must be Crazy.” He likes it partly because it takes place in Africa where he grew up and partly because it deals with our struggle to understand the unknown. But mostly he loves it because it’s funny and witty and insightful or, as he would put it – “it’s just plain fun.” For those of you who haven’t seen it, I strongly recommend it for an evening’s viewing.
In the movie, an isolated tribe of bush people are visited by an object from the gods – a Coke bottle. It falls from the sky (or more precisely, from a plane flying overhead). None of them have ever seen a bottle before, and as they explore its uses, including bonking each other on the head, they soon come to believe that it is an evil thing that is not meant to be touched by human hands.
So, the hero of the story whose name is unpronounceable, for me at least, decides to take the bottle and throw it off the edge of the earth. He soon discovers that the earth doesn’t end where he thought it did, and as his quest continues, he comes into contact with modern civilization and the “gods” with white skin. After many adventures and mishaps along the way, he finally returns to his home and his family (without the bottle) and while he cannot comprehend or explain everything he has seen, he does share one truth he has learned – one rule for the tribe to follow – avoid the gods and the wonders they have because the gods are crazy.
That kind of encounter is quite unlikely for most of us. We live, after all, in the global society that is the purview of those crazy gods. But we do live our lives according to simple rules that mask unbelievable complexity. We know, for example, that if we let go of a pen or a knife or a concrete paving stone, it will fall down instead of floating away. It doesn’t really matter how the equations that describe the forces of attraction between objects of varying masses balance in those moments. We only know that we need to get our feet and not our heads out of the way if we want to avoid a potentially painful accident. Just one of the basic rules we live by.
And that’s what we teach our children– rules to live by. Don’t throw things at people. Don’t touch the stove. Food is for eating not playing. Don’t take the toys that someone else is playing with. Don’t pound on the cat with a book – in fact, don’t pound on the cat at all. Sleep is good even if you don’t think you want it. Don’t cheat. Don’t lie. Listen to your parents.
Not so different from the commandments we are supposed to live by ourselves. Honor your father and your mother. You shall not steal. You shall not bear false witness. You shall not covet. You shall not murder. You shall not commit adultery. More rules to live by – rules given to a people who were not ready or able to understand the concepts that truly govern our lives together. Kind of makes you wonder if God felt a bit like a parent with fussy, willful children who just didn’t get it.
Paul’s letter to the Romans makes it clear, though, that there is much more to it all than rules. Love, he says, is at the heart of all these commandments, and his words echo the words of Christ who said that all the law of Israel and all the words of the prophets can be summed up a command to love God and love others. The central law of life as children of God, it seems, is … love. And love seems … somehow … to exist on a different level than laws of physics or engine mechanics or the common sense rules of survival. While they can be taught, I’m not sure that is true of love. No, love is different.
Ideas and concepts can be taught and learned by the mind. They deal with how things work and what we should do, and they can often be boiled down into simple rules. But motivations – those things like love that deal with why we do things – they don’t live in our heads. They live in our hearts and our guts, and I don’t know of any case in which I, at least, have been able to teach motivation. In the case of the law of love that lies at the heart of God’s plan for humanity, it seems that even God has had trouble teaching us why to do the things we do.
The Ten Commandments and all the other specific rules that were given to us to help mold our lives into the right shape are good rules to follow. But no matter how well we adhere to them, no matter how we study the implications and seek out patterns to help guide us, they still don’t cover every circumstance of life.
Even all of Christ’s teachings, taken together with his example as a guide, can’t do that . And, even if they did, following rules for the sake of the rules - for righteousness sake – is not the point. It may help us to live better lives and create a better world, but without the right motivation – without love – we are, as Paul puts it, no better than clashing cymbals or clanging gongs.
Love is the key to life in the Realm of God, and no amount of rules can bring us into that place, if our history and our experience is any guide. They can approximate it maybe, help us to live in a world that mirrors God’s dream for us. But without love as our motivation for life, we will always be on the wrong side of the looking glass. And, the question is, how do we discover that key within ourselves?
There is a line from a song that has been coming into my head all week. It is from the duet that Tevye and Golda sing together in “Fiddler on the Roof” when Tevye is wondering if Golda actually loves him or is just living with him because their marriage was arranged and that’s what one did in that time and place. After talking (well, I guess singing) around the issue for most of the song, the two of them share this little exchange back and forth:
T - The first time I met you was on our wedding day.
I was scared.
G - I was shy.
T - I was nervous.
G - So was I.
T- But my father and my mother said we'd learn to love each other.
And now I'm asking, Golda, Do you love me?
Eventually, of course, Golda admits that after 25 years she has learned to love Tevye, and Tevye returns the favor.
The words are striking to me because I have had the same experience in my life. Well, not exactly the same …. But I have often found myself thrown together with people that I did not know at all. And even in just a year’s time living and working with them, I came to love them – even when our time together began in fighting and disagreement. Strange, isn’t it, how sharing a bathroom or a living room or dinner time can change your perception of someone?!
But it’s more than that, I suppose. It’s more than just sharing space that opens our eyes and our hearts to the people we love in our lives. It’s the time we spend talking and listening to one another that helps us to understand what lies underneath the surface impressions and posturing of the people we meet. It’s that vision of who they really are that lets us let go of the little frustrations and the way others rub us the wrong way. It’s the relationships that we build with them that frees us embrace them with all their faults and all their brilliance – to embrace them in love for who they are and who they want to be.
Perhaps that’s the answer. I still wonder if love can be taught, but perhaps love can be learned through relationships.
When Jesus gave guidance about the commandments in the Sermon on the Mount, he told us to look beyond the rules to the motivation. “You have heard it said, ‘you shall not murder,” but I say to you if you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to judgment. You have heard it said, ‘you shall not commit adultery,’ but I say to you that everyone who looks at a [another] with lust has already committed adultery. You have heard it said, ‘you shall love your neighbor,’ but I say to you love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.”
When Jesus spoke of the measure of faithful living in his description of the Day of the Lord, he said that the blessed would be those who met the need they found in the world. They fed the hungry, gave drink to the thirsty, welcomed the stranger, clothed the naked, and cared for the sick and imprisoned. They did all this not for the sake of following rules or with a thought for their reward.
And so should we – follow the example of those sheep in Jesus’ prophetic vision of the final judgment. We should reach out to those in need around us in love – a love that we will surely learn if we truly follow their lead. For, those disciples got their hands dirty. They did not settle, as we so often do, for donating money or taking their left over, tired old clothes to the Goodwill or sending off a card to a shut-in when they remembered. They met the people they reached out to. They welcomed them into their lives – strangers or no. They brought them into the house to offer the hospitality of food and drink. They took clothes to them in their homes. They stayed with them when they were sick, cleaning them and feeding them and emptying their chamber pots.
All these things they did in love, love that grew in them as they got to know those they helped. Each time they reached out to another person they learned to understand and live the law of love a little more fully. And, who among us does not need to understand that law more fully?
Perhaps if we can find or make the time to reach out and touch the need in the world around us – hand out sack lunches at the Baptist Church, talk with lonely people in nursing homes, or volunteer with Bartlett House – perhaps with each new relationship we build along the way, we too will learn a little more and a little more and a little more. One day, we may even look around and find that we are standing on the other side of the looking glass holding the key in our hands.
May it be so.
Romans 13:8-14, Psalm 119:33-40
Have you ever tried to teach something to someone who just can’t seem to grasp the concept? I don’t mean someone who is being intentionally dense or doesn’t care to put in the time and energy to understand. I mean someone who really isn’t ready or able to understand what you’re trying to teach? It’s a helpless feeling … wondering if you just aren’t finding the right words … growing more and more frustrated with your pupil until you are ready to chuck the whole process out the window … beginning to question if you really understand yourself.
I’m pretty sure any of you who have raised children can identify with those moments. I know I have felt that way many, many times already as Carrie and I have tried to help Sebastian understand new things.
(I hope you’ll excuse me for using Sebastian as an example so many times. There just seem to be so many parallels between a child’s learning and our own growth as we mature in faith.)
Anyway, it seems that no matter how many times we explain - about things as simple as cleaning up a mess (or not making it in the first place) or as important as not throwing rocks or whatever it may be at another person and the danger of running into the street - he doesn’t seem to get it. The concepts of self-preservation or being careful not to hurt others are just beyond his capacity, and we can only keep trying to find patience that we don’t always seem to have in the hope that the time when he does get it comes sooner rather than later.
But the struggle to learn – really learn – difficult concepts is not the province of children alone. How many of you, for example, could explain Einstein’s theory of general relativity? Or how internal combustion power, friction, and momentum work together to determine fuel efficiency? How about computer chips? Or how Christ could be fully human without sinning and fully divine if he did sin?
(Let's do that again and if you could raise your hands, that would be great 'cause I’m still having difficulty with this stuff myself, and I could use some help. General Relativity? … 2, okay … engines? … 3, good … computers? … a couple kind ofs, all right … Christology? … no? Well two out of four isn’t too bad. I’ll talk with you all later.)
These are difficult questions for most of us because they lead into really big, complex ideas that aren’t a direct part of our experience (or at least we don’t realize that they are.) And, for the most part, we are content to let them sit there in all their incomprehensible splendor as long as it doesn’t seem to affect our lives too much. So, we look for simple rules that will help us get along without understanding all the complexities.
One of my father’s favorite movies is “The Gods Must be Crazy.” He likes it partly because it takes place in Africa where he grew up and partly because it deals with our struggle to understand the unknown. But mostly he loves it because it’s funny and witty and insightful or, as he would put it – “it’s just plain fun.” For those of you who haven’t seen it, I strongly recommend it for an evening’s viewing.
In the movie, an isolated tribe of bush people are visited by an object from the gods – a Coke bottle. It falls from the sky (or more precisely, from a plane flying overhead). None of them have ever seen a bottle before, and as they explore its uses, including bonking each other on the head, they soon come to believe that it is an evil thing that is not meant to be touched by human hands.
So, the hero of the story whose name is unpronounceable, for me at least, decides to take the bottle and throw it off the edge of the earth. He soon discovers that the earth doesn’t end where he thought it did, and as his quest continues, he comes into contact with modern civilization and the “gods” with white skin. After many adventures and mishaps along the way, he finally returns to his home and his family (without the bottle) and while he cannot comprehend or explain everything he has seen, he does share one truth he has learned – one rule for the tribe to follow – avoid the gods and the wonders they have because the gods are crazy.
That kind of encounter is quite unlikely for most of us. We live, after all, in the global society that is the purview of those crazy gods. But we do live our lives according to simple rules that mask unbelievable complexity. We know, for example, that if we let go of a pen or a knife or a concrete paving stone, it will fall down instead of floating away. It doesn’t really matter how the equations that describe the forces of attraction between objects of varying masses balance in those moments. We only know that we need to get our feet and not our heads out of the way if we want to avoid a potentially painful accident. Just one of the basic rules we live by.
And that’s what we teach our children– rules to live by. Don’t throw things at people. Don’t touch the stove. Food is for eating not playing. Don’t take the toys that someone else is playing with. Don’t pound on the cat with a book – in fact, don’t pound on the cat at all. Sleep is good even if you don’t think you want it. Don’t cheat. Don’t lie. Listen to your parents.
Not so different from the commandments we are supposed to live by ourselves. Honor your father and your mother. You shall not steal. You shall not bear false witness. You shall not covet. You shall not murder. You shall not commit adultery. More rules to live by – rules given to a people who were not ready or able to understand the concepts that truly govern our lives together. Kind of makes you wonder if God felt a bit like a parent with fussy, willful children who just didn’t get it.
Paul’s letter to the Romans makes it clear, though, that there is much more to it all than rules. Love, he says, is at the heart of all these commandments, and his words echo the words of Christ who said that all the law of Israel and all the words of the prophets can be summed up a command to love God and love others. The central law of life as children of God, it seems, is … love. And love seems … somehow … to exist on a different level than laws of physics or engine mechanics or the common sense rules of survival. While they can be taught, I’m not sure that is true of love. No, love is different.
Ideas and concepts can be taught and learned by the mind. They deal with how things work and what we should do, and they can often be boiled down into simple rules. But motivations – those things like love that deal with why we do things – they don’t live in our heads. They live in our hearts and our guts, and I don’t know of any case in which I, at least, have been able to teach motivation. In the case of the law of love that lies at the heart of God’s plan for humanity, it seems that even God has had trouble teaching us why to do the things we do.
The Ten Commandments and all the other specific rules that were given to us to help mold our lives into the right shape are good rules to follow. But no matter how well we adhere to them, no matter how we study the implications and seek out patterns to help guide us, they still don’t cover every circumstance of life.
Even all of Christ’s teachings, taken together with his example as a guide, can’t do that . And, even if they did, following rules for the sake of the rules - for righteousness sake – is not the point. It may help us to live better lives and create a better world, but without the right motivation – without love – we are, as Paul puts it, no better than clashing cymbals or clanging gongs.
Love is the key to life in the Realm of God, and no amount of rules can bring us into that place, if our history and our experience is any guide. They can approximate it maybe, help us to live in a world that mirrors God’s dream for us. But without love as our motivation for life, we will always be on the wrong side of the looking glass. And, the question is, how do we discover that key within ourselves?
There is a line from a song that has been coming into my head all week. It is from the duet that Tevye and Golda sing together in “Fiddler on the Roof” when Tevye is wondering if Golda actually loves him or is just living with him because their marriage was arranged and that’s what one did in that time and place. After talking (well, I guess singing) around the issue for most of the song, the two of them share this little exchange back and forth:
T - The first time I met you was on our wedding day.
I was scared.
G - I was shy.
T - I was nervous.
G - So was I.
T- But my father and my mother said we'd learn to love each other.
And now I'm asking, Golda, Do you love me?
Eventually, of course, Golda admits that after 25 years she has learned to love Tevye, and Tevye returns the favor.
The words are striking to me because I have had the same experience in my life. Well, not exactly the same …. But I have often found myself thrown together with people that I did not know at all. And even in just a year’s time living and working with them, I came to love them – even when our time together began in fighting and disagreement. Strange, isn’t it, how sharing a bathroom or a living room or dinner time can change your perception of someone?!
But it’s more than that, I suppose. It’s more than just sharing space that opens our eyes and our hearts to the people we love in our lives. It’s the time we spend talking and listening to one another that helps us to understand what lies underneath the surface impressions and posturing of the people we meet. It’s that vision of who they really are that lets us let go of the little frustrations and the way others rub us the wrong way. It’s the relationships that we build with them that frees us embrace them with all their faults and all their brilliance – to embrace them in love for who they are and who they want to be.
Perhaps that’s the answer. I still wonder if love can be taught, but perhaps love can be learned through relationships.
When Jesus gave guidance about the commandments in the Sermon on the Mount, he told us to look beyond the rules to the motivation. “You have heard it said, ‘you shall not murder,” but I say to you if you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to judgment. You have heard it said, ‘you shall not commit adultery,’ but I say to you that everyone who looks at a [another] with lust has already committed adultery. You have heard it said, ‘you shall love your neighbor,’ but I say to you love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.”
When Jesus spoke of the measure of faithful living in his description of the Day of the Lord, he said that the blessed would be those who met the need they found in the world. They fed the hungry, gave drink to the thirsty, welcomed the stranger, clothed the naked, and cared for the sick and imprisoned. They did all this not for the sake of following rules or with a thought for their reward.
And so should we – follow the example of those sheep in Jesus’ prophetic vision of the final judgment. We should reach out to those in need around us in love – a love that we will surely learn if we truly follow their lead. For, those disciples got their hands dirty. They did not settle, as we so often do, for donating money or taking their left over, tired old clothes to the Goodwill or sending off a card to a shut-in when they remembered. They met the people they reached out to. They welcomed them into their lives – strangers or no. They brought them into the house to offer the hospitality of food and drink. They took clothes to them in their homes. They stayed with them when they were sick, cleaning them and feeding them and emptying their chamber pots.
All these things they did in love, love that grew in them as they got to know those they helped. Each time they reached out to another person they learned to understand and live the law of love a little more fully. And, who among us does not need to understand that law more fully?
Perhaps if we can find or make the time to reach out and touch the need in the world around us – hand out sack lunches at the Baptist Church, talk with lonely people in nursing homes, or volunteer with Bartlett House – perhaps with each new relationship we build along the way, we too will learn a little more and a little more and a little more. One day, we may even look around and find that we are standing on the other side of the looking glass holding the key in our hands.
May it be so.
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