Micah 6:1-8 Matthew 5:1-12
Over
the course of our Christmas holidays, I got the chance to watch “As Good as it
Gets” for the third time. I remember
thinking that it was a good movie when it first came out several years ago, and
as is often the case with good movies, each time that I see it, I find new
things to appreciate and enjoy it even more.
The
world of “As Good as it Gets” is populated by many fantastic and memorable
characters, including one very irascible dog, but the two main characters are
the most fascinating of all. Melvin is a
very successful author who suffers from a pretty extreme case of obsessive compulsive
disorder and spend most of his time living as a recluse in his well-organized
apartment. Carol is a waitress at the
café where Melvin habitually goes for breakfast – the only waitress who knows
his exacting needs and is willing to serve him despite his rudeness.
The
movie really picks up steam when Carol’s son gets sick, and she has to take off
from work in order to stay with him in the hospital. The disturbance this causes in Melvin’s life
is (as you might expect) too much for him to handle. It proves to be enough of an inconvenience
that Melvin takes a big step out of his comfort zone and actually goes to the
hospital to convince Carol that she needs to come back to work.
She
refuses, as most mothers would, and Melvin is forced to take more extreme
action. He calls up a doctor friend and
shows up at Carol’s home to take care of the problem. Carol is skeptically grateful, thinking that
Melvin is trying to manipulate her into an illicit liaison which is the
farthest thing from his mind … at least until she mentions it.
From
there, the story of their relationship takes many twists and turns, and the two
eventually fall in love with each other.
But Carol just can’t get past all the strange and controlling behavior
that is part and parcel of Melvin’s OCD.
Melvin, for his part, makes a huge effort to break the chains of his
illness, but it proves to be too much for him to tackle all at once.
Carol
gives up, saying in exasperation that she just wants a normal boyfriend, and
normal is clearly just not an option for Melvin. There is just too much to overcome … too many
quirks for her to accept and adjust to … too many changes that need to be made
for things to work. The whole
relationship is just too hard to manage, and she is not sure that it’s worth it
to take the plunge into such a mess.
To
me, Micah message seems like a similar challenge. I know that these words are a comforting … to
some people, and as Cindy has told us, they have formed the mission statement
of at least one church. I completely
understand the sense of comfort that a short, clear list of theological virtues
to pursue, but I find it difficult to fully embrace that mission because it is
just too … big … for me.
It’s
not that it’s vague … anything but. The
words are quite clear: “Do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly.” My studies have even helped me understand
what those words probably meant to Micah and the people he spoke to. What’s hard for me is the all-encompassing
nature of the challenge.
Doing
justice is easy to say, but it is much harder to do. There are so many different ways that we
understand justice, and they often take us in opposite ways. And if we reach for a deeper meaning then we
have to drive into uncertainty. We can’t
grasp the perspective we would need to know God’s justice for certain. And the only way to move forward is to pay
attention to each situation because God’s justice seems to emerge from
conversations and a deeper understanding of each person’s experiences.
Loving
Kindness isn’t any easier for me. The
“kindness” Micah is talking about is the Hebrew concept “chesed.” It is a complex idea that speaks of covenant
and the mutual obligations of partners.
It’s about trust – trust that our partners will honor our interests just
as we honor theirs. It’s about being
ready to treat the well-being of others as a higher value than our own
vindication, and that means making ourselves vulnerable.
But
the last words are easily the most difficult for me. Walking humbly is not one
of my fortes. I don’t do humility all
that well, as you probably have noticed.
I like to feel like I know what I’m doing and what I’m talking about,
and that makes it hard to admit that I can be wrong. I’m getting better at it, but it’s still one
of my biggest spiritual struggles.
Each
one of these is hard enough … especially since Micah implies that we should be
doing them all the time. When you put
all three together, it seems like an impossible leap from where I am now, … and
I don’t do well with the impossible either.
As I said, it’s just too big to take all at once, and I begin to despair.
Some
of them, I don’t really understand. What
does it mean to be poor in spirit, for example?
How does one “hunger and thirst for righteousness?” When do we find
ourselves being persecuted for righteousness’ sake … reviled and persecuted on
Jesus’ account?
Others
come more naturally. I understand what
it means to be peacemaker. I have
experienced mourning. I know mercy and
meekness even if I struggle to embody them many times. These are things that I can take hold of …
goals that I can work toward … and actually accomplish from time to time.
What
I really like, though, is not that these tasks are more limited in scope or
that I feel like I can get something done.
No, what gives me hope and gets me moving again is that these challenges
are not absolute. I don’t have to do
them all … and I don’t have to do them perfectly.
If I
make peace when I’m able, I am a peacemaker.
If I show mercy instead of ruthlessness, then I am merciful (at least
for those moments). If I find myself
remembering loved ones with longing or aching for the loss of humanity’s soul,
then I am mourning. And if I am led to a
place of stillness where I can let go of my pride in the face of others’ need
to be the best, then I have been given the gift of meekness.
In
all of these ways … in each of those moments, I succeed. In bigger or smaller ways I succeed in living
out the ideals of Jesus’ teaching. I
don’t need to make one huge leap into the fullness of life in Christ. I can take smaller steps … little hops …
maybe even a jump or two from time to time.
I’m
not sure about that last thought anymore.
As I have watched the movie more recently, I have come to find an
affinity for the poor man on the screen.
He is an extreme case, of course, and I hope that I will never find
myself in that position. Yet, I do see parallels
in my own life – places where I am just as trapped in habits or compulsions
that keep me from being the man I want to be – times when I despair of ever
reaching a truer, fuller relationship with God or with the people I love
because of my own faults and weaknesses.
Maybe
I’m not so different from Melvin in the end.
Maybe none of us are when we get right down to the bottom of it, but
that doesn’t mean that we are lost and without hope. Melvin found his way out of the tangled mess
that bound him, but he didn’t do it all at once. He didn’t … he couldn’t take it all in one
big leap. He had to take one little step
at a time … one baby step after another toward a more normal life.
We don’t
have to get it all right at once either.
There is a big, beautiful promise out there for us – a big picture in
which justice and mercy kiss and righteousness flows like a mighty river – a
new world in which we all (and we, each one) do justice, love kindness, and
walk humbly with our God. And we can get
there … we will get there, not in one big leap but through baby steps … through
small moments of choosing peace and mercy and meekness and righteousness …
moments that change everything and uncover blessings to encourage and
strengthen us along the way
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