Homily Transcript: April 5, 2012; Maundy Thursday; Rev. R. Allan McCaslin
Readings: Exodus 12:1-4, 11-14a; Psalm 116:1, 10-17; I Cor. 11:23-26; John 13:1-17, 31b-35
From John’s gospel, “(Jesus said), ‘I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.’” I speak to you in the Name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
In this past Sunday’s sermon, I stated that God’s unconditional love is the message of Holy Week. And it is in these next three days - the “Great Triduum" – the Great Three Days of the Christian year which begin tonight – that we will explore the depths of God’s unconditional love and its difficult call to us.
Our readings from scripture this evening speak of the Passover meal, the Last Supper, and our Lord’s issuance of a new commandment – a new Mandatum – a new mandate from which we get the word “Maundy” – a new commandment. And yet, that commandment is not new, but rather, how we are called to live it is, indeed, new and it is difficult.
Millions of Christians around the world this evening have gathered to commemorate the events of our Lord’s Passion. And yet, when we say that we gather to commemorate these things, this is not simply a remembering of things past, but rather, it is a re-living of these events. We bring them forward into our present moment as if they are unfolding before our very eyes for the first time. In Greek, this action is called anamnesis which means to make something a present and living reality. It is how we celebrate the Eucharist each week because our table fellowship together is more than a memorial: it is the sharing of bread and wine in the very presence of Christ who, himself, becomes that bread and wine; and as it is broken for us; we taste and see God’s unconditional love once more.
This bringing forward into the present is the experience of Jews at every Passover Meal. As we heard from Exodus, the meal is forever consumed in haste recalling how the Hebrew people, dressed and ready to flee from bondage in Egypt, paused to eat what would become a sacred meal and, in the process, were spared from death. We, too, gather this evening on the occasion of our Lord’s celebration of the Passover feast to share bread and wine that has become the very Body and Blood of Christ who, on this night, offered up his very self for us and the world to spare us from eternal bondage to sin and eternal death. Christ himself becomes our Passover feast.
I have always found Jesus’ words, “I give you a new commandment” to be a rather puzzling statement because his words are not something new. Jewish writing for centuries before Christ had stressed that loving neighbor and each other was part and parcel of loving God in accordance with God’s commandments. Where this commandment becomes new is in its understanding that we are to love as “I have loved you ” as “God has loved you.” A love that is unconditional: in spite of our pathetic shortfalls – the love of God abides forever – it is ours for the taking and embracing. It is a love that always welcomes us home even as prodigals. It is a love that corrects us when in error; a love that chides us to understand that loving each other means feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, giving drink to the thirsty, welcoming the stranger and alien, visiting the prisoners, protecting the oppressed, and giving comfort to the sick. It is a love that is willing to go to the cross and die in order that some might live: it is a sacrificial love that makes no distinction about who is worthy to receive it: it is a love that doesn’t care about your race, ethnicity, gender, sexual orientation, marital or economic status: it is God’s unconditional love and it is wonderful to hear about and yet, so very difficult to live every moment of every day.
Perhaps that is why Peter had such difficulty with Jesus’ words in tonight’s gospel reading. Peter says, “Lord, you will never wash my feet.” In other words, “I will not allow you, my master and teacher, to do the work of a slave because it would mean that I have to get off my high horse and recognize that I am no better than anyone else.” In ancient Palestine, it was slaves who washed the feet of others. Slaves: not co-workers or teachers, masters, or even younger brothers and sisters, but rather, those who were bought and sold; those who were considered less than human; those considered to be the lowest form of life. Jesus demonstrates that true love –God’s love - makes no such distinction: we are called to serve all whom we meet: to wash each other’s feet as Christ has washed ours. And that’s the hard part for us.
We are very comfortable sharing bread and wine with each other in the Communion and we embrace that Christ is present in that bread and wine. We come and receive of him and our souls are quickened at every Eucharistic meal and yet, my friends, to turn and stoop down to wash another’s feet is so very difficult for us because it means recognizing that God shows no partiality: we are all sinners in God’s sight worthy of death and yet God still loves us. As our opening to tonight’s reading from John’s gospel says, “Having loved his own who were in the world, (Jesus) loved them to the end.” And we, too, are called to love others even to the end as “I have loved you,” as “God” has loved you.
These next three days are filled with opportunities for personal devotion and congregational gathering to witness to the Christ who died for our sins and the sins of the whole world. And yet, my brothers and sisters, without love – without God’s love in us – our actions over these days become nothing more than an empty re-enactment of something from the past. May God open our hearts and minds to grasp that we are called to love as God loves: A love that hangs forever before us in the symbol of the Cross. And recognize that when we love as God loves, as the song we will sing a few moments says, “God himself is there” present beside us and in us.
Jesus said, “By this everyone will know you are my disciples;” (Not by your works of power or achievement; not by your pedigree; not by performing great miracles or producing signs and wonders; no.) “By this everyone will know you are my disciples, if you have love – God’s love – my love – for one another. That is the new commandment we are called to embrace. And we begin to live it this evening with washing one another’s feet.
May God teach us how to love without condition and, in so doing, teach us that God’s people are servants of all. Amen.
Sermon Transcript: March 11, 2012 The Third Sunday in Lent Rev. R. Allan McCaslin
Readings: Exodus 20:1-17; Psalm 19; 1 Corinthians 1:18-25; John 2:13-22
From this morning’s Psalm, “Let the words of mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight, O LORD, my strength and my redeemer.” I speak to you in the Name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Typically, on the Third Sunday in Lent, we begin our services here with the Penitential Rite which involves hearing each of the Ten Commandments (or “The Decalogue” as they are commonly called). And after each commandment is read aloud, the congregation responds, “Lord have mercy upon us and incline our hearts to keep this law” (BCP p 317-18). And so, we planned on beginning this week’s service with the Decalogue. But, as I proofed the service leaflet and then, read over our Old Testament lesson, I kind of felt like Sophia from The Golden Girls asking, “Is it my stroke, or did we hear this already?” Hearing the Ten Commandments once is often difficult enough, let alone twice. After all, as one of my Seminary colleagues said, “None of us like to be told how to live.”
Many think of the Commandments as a whole lot of “Thou shalt not’s” when, in reality, they come down to two simple phrases that are powerful and yet, very difficult to live: We are to love the Lord our God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength, and love our neighbor as ourselves. Every “no” statement offered in these commandments make sense to people who are grounded in the love of God and love of neighbor. If our whole being is focused on loving God and neighbor, then we will be honest at all times; we will not steal; we will respect the dignity of every human being; and we will honor God with our substance, especially our time; because we understand and embrace that loving God and loving all that God has created is our highest calling as God’s people.
Yet, we often use these commandments to advance our own agenda especially when, like we hear from all sorts of politicians these days, we want to tell someone else how to live. And yet, that is not the heart of the commandments. They are about love and love is what unites us as a people and unites us with God. That’s why the Psalmist proclaims that God’s laws rejoice the heart: they are not a burden, but rather, they are the way to an abundant and happy life. Imagine what this world would be like if everyone committed their whole being to loving God and loving their neighbor. Imagine what the Church would be like if every Christian loved God and their neighbor as much as they loved themselves.
Sermon: October 16, 2011, The 18th Sunday after Pentecost The Rev. R. Allan McCaslin
Readings: Exodus 33:12-23; Psalm 99; I Thessalonians 1:1-10; Matthew 22:15-22
From Exodus, (Moses said to God), “Now, if I have found favor in your sight, show me your ways, so that I may know you…” I speak to you in the Name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
Like many of you, I have been watching the political debates and discussions focused on next year’s election. It seems to me that every person running for office believes that not only will he or she be the next candidate, but more importantly, s/he is the only wise choice for election. Political pundits point out the background and experience, the gifts, talents, and abilities of each of these persons, and are quick to suggest why one is better than the rest.
What I find fascinating is that in the midst of these weeks of on-going debates, our Adult Christian Education class has been studying and discerning our spiritual gifts: those gifts, talents and abilities that most of us share in common and yet, some have been spiritually endowed with an additional charism or anointing of the Holy Spirit in order to lead us in that regard. For example, all of us can attest to some measure of mercy within us and yet, only a few are spiritually gifted to lead us in acts of mercy. The same applies to evangelism: We are each responsible for sharing our faith and witnessing to the life-changing power of God in our lives and yet, very few are gifted as evangelists capable of explaining the faith in ways that lead others to Christ. I wondered this week what would happen if each of us set aside our political party loyalties and considered candidates for office not because of what they say, but rather, because they demonstrate in their deeds the spiritual gifts we have studied. Spiritual gifts like visionary and managing leadership, mercy, wisdom, discernment, and nurturing. Imagine what this country might become.
A preacher on a Christian television show this week said he believed his candidate is “God’s divine choice for president.” I started shouting at the television, as if the preacher could hear me, “Whoa! Wait a minute! No one in this country governs by divine right!” Our leaders govern at the will of the people and governments are established by the people for the purposes of maintaining a social order. Such may be in tune with God’s will and certainly, when the state or nation acts in ways that protect and shelter the most vulnerable in our communities and foster the well-being of all her people, we can advance God’s will for the world. But, the danger of believing that any politician is in office by divine right can lead to an idolatry where they (and we, too) start to believe themselves to be God.
Sermon transcript: October 9, 2011, The 17th Sunday after Pentecost The Rev. R. Allan McCaslin
Readings: Exodus 32:1-14; Psalm 106:1-6, 19-23; Philippians 4:1-9; Matthew 22:1-14
From this morning’s Old Testament reading, “And the Lord changed his mind.” I speak to you in the Name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
As much as I am a fan of Matthew’s Gospel, what troubles and irritates me about Matthew is his propensity for seeing everything in terms of black and white: You are either righteous or evil; you are either perfect or grossly offensive; you either show up when invited (and wear the right clothing), or you are thrown into hell. There is no middle ground. Everything is either or. As for God? Well, for Matthew, God is gracious and vengeful: to be feared and respected; a being that you had better not cross or else! I find it difficult to respect someone of whom I am terrified and even that much harder to love.
But a scary and vengeful God seems preeminent in today’s readings from Matthew and Exodus. Matthew tells Jesus’ parable of a king who has invited people to attend his son’s wedding feast. It is assumed that, having received an invitation some time ago, each guest promised to attend this great celebration on the appointed day. But that day has come and Matthew tells us that none of the guests showed up. So, the king sent his messengers to announce that the table is set, the meal is waiting, and to urge the invited guests, the chosen ones, the friends and family of the king to attend. But they scoff at these messengers and go so far as to kill them rather than come to the feast. The king is enraged at having been rebuffed. He musters his armies and they invade and burn the city killing everyone in their path. There’s Matthew with that vengeful and wrathful God again. (No wonder no one wanted to come to the king’s party!) Matthew offers a terrifying picture.
Theologians and scholars agree that this parable of Jesus depicts how the people of Israel, having at one time accepted God’s invitation and entered into a covenant relationship with God, had the nasty habit of killing God’s prophets. Matthew uses this parable to foretell that Israel will soon turn God’s own son over to the political authorities for execution and then they will slaughter the Christian apostles and prophets who will come afterwards. This helps Matthew explain why the Roman army in 69 AD, like the king in today’s story, descended upon the holy city of Jerusalem and burned it to the ground. For many, this parable is about Israel’s past, present and future, and Matthew seems delighted that Israel will finally get her just reward for rejecting Jesus Christ as the Messiah. This interpretation of Matthew might have merit but, then there’s the rest of the story. Besides, Exodus, like so many books of the Bible, tells us that God can change his mind. God is always willing to pour out mercy and grace even in the face of disobedience.
Sermon Transcript: October 2, 2011, The 16th Sunday afterPentecost The Rev. R. Allan McCaslin
Readings: Exodus 20:1-4, 7-9, 12-20; Psalm 19; Philippians 3:4b-14; Matthew 21:33-36
From this morning’s gospel, (Jesus said) “Therefore I tell you, the kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a people that produces the fruits of the kingdom.” I speak to you in the Name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Growing up in a conservative evangelical household, my sisters and I learned at a very young age that we’d better be careful to follow all Ten of God’s Commandments as described in today’s reading from Exodus, or else God would curse us with hardships and, at the very worst, throw us out of God’s kingdom into the fires of Hell. It should not surprise you that I grew up believing that God was like Santa Claus keeping a list and checking twice, keeping track of who’s been naughty and nice. I feared God and especially feared breaking the Ten Commandments.
So, you can imagine my surprise the first time I heard some Jewish friends refer to the Ten Commandments as “God’s gift to us.” God’s gift? I didn’t think so. But, my Jewish friends were right. A careful reading of Exodus shows that the Ten Commandments are not about judgment or curses, but rather, they offer clear guidelines for how we should live in relationship with God and with each other. In many ways, they are a gift because they give shape and structure to society so that we do not live in total chaos. The reality is that there is less crime and more order, respect, mercy, grace and justice in places where the Ten Commandments are held up as the standard for daily living. How sad it is in this country that the Ten Commandments are being removed from the public sphere: our courts, our city halls, and especially our schools. We have replaced them with our own ethical standards and, in the process, have set ourselves up in the place of God.
The gift of the Ten Commandments is that they offer a path towards life and health. That being said, we need to understand them more fully because they are more than a list of do’s and don’ts, and they apply to a myriad of issues that we confront each day. Certainly, most of us here have not sought to murder anyone and most have not committed adultery or stolen or born false witness, although Jesus says that to have even thought about doing so is to violate the Commandments and that should give us pause. We might also claim to worship no other god but the God of Israel revealed to us as Father, Son and Holy Spirit, and yet, how often have we been tempted to use God’s name as a weapon against those who are different from us. Or, we have suddenly prayed for God to protect us from a particular danger as if God is a good luck charm while we merrily live any way we choose to live. The Ten Commandments teach us to be loyal to God who seeks a relationship with humanity and that we are not to worship any other god, nor misuse God’s name or our relationship with God to the detriment of someone else.
Sermon Transcript: Sept 25, 2011, The 15th Sunday after Pentecost The Rev. R. Allan McCaslin
Readings: Exodus 17:1-7; Psalm 78: 1-4, 12-16; Philippians 2:1-13; Matthew 21:23-32
From this morning’s gospel, “(The chief priests and elders of the people) answered Jesus (saying), ‘We do not know.’” I speak to you in the Name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
I think that one thing people have in common regardless of gender, race, economic standing or any other difference is simply this: When confronted with something we should have, or should not have done, we think that we can be absolved from responsibility by saying “I didn’t know”or, as the chief priests and elders offered in today’s Gospel reading, “We don’t know.” It seems that by claiming ignorance of a law or ethical standard we will somehow be off the hook for any wrongs committed. But the courts tell us that ignorance of the law is no defense. When pulled over for speeding and the officer tells us that we were going 80 in 55 mph zone, and we say that we didn’t know the speed limit or how fast we were going, we are still held accountable.
Now suggesting, “We don’t know” can be a viable answer on occasion. After all, we are finite human beings and do not fully understand the universe, or science, or even everything about God. But, in today’s reading from Matthew’s Gospel, saying “We don’t know” is an unacceptable response. Jesus has repeatedly asked his followers the question each of us must answer at some point in our lives: “Who do you say that I am?” The sad thing about today’s Gospel lesson is that the religious leaders, those who, of all people, should have known better, could not even answer a question about John the Baptizer. Instead, they answered, “We don’t know.”
So Jesus offers a parable about two sons and clearly, it is the first son who, even though he initially refused his father’s request, thought better of it later on and did the will of his father; he is the righteous son. Jesus reveals to the religious leaders that for all their learning and praying and posturing and adhering to the rules and regulations of their faith tradition, they could not recognize God’s presence when they saw it. But, the tax collectors and prostitutes, the outcasts of society who had, at one time, rejected any moral and religious understanding, did see God in the person of Jesus Christ and their lives were forever changed. They are the ones, Jesus says, who enter the kingdom of God ahead of everyone else. Yet, even today, when confronted by the teachings of Jesus that should urge us to live differently, people still think that saying “We don’t know” is okay and they fool themselves. At some point, we have to decide who Jesus is.
Sermon Transcript: Sept 18, 2011, The 14th Sunday after Pentecost The Rev. R. Allan McCaslin
Readings: Exodus 16:2-15; Psalm 105: 1-6, 37-45; Philippians 1:21-30; Matthew 20:1-16
From this morning’s gospel, “(The landowner said), “Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me? Or are you envious because I am generous?” I speak to you in the Name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
One of the lessons I have learned over the years is that when it comes to philanthropy, there are two kinds of people: Those who rejoice at what has been given regardless of the amount and those who will complain that it’s not enough. When a multi-million dollar gift is awarded to an organization, someone, somewhere, will either complain about the donor suggesting that she or he should have given more, or they will complain about the recipient of those funds and suggest that some other needy person or cause would have been a better choice. We have a tendency to consider ourselves to be more highly valued than someone else and, therefore, we think that our causes, our work should receive a larger share of gifts, praise, and especially, any financial reward. And we tend to speak ill of others when we don’t get what we want or think we deserve.
Some time ago a mill burned to the ground in Massachusetts displacing hundreds of workers. The owner of that company continued to pay his employees their full salary, health insurance and benefits even though there was no work for them to do. Everyone thought this was wonderful until a year later when the money ran out and the owner, facing bankruptcy, had no choice but to lay people off. Suddenly he was called unfair and greedy. We tend to resent those who are wealthier or earn more than us. We believe we are worth more than others; that we should receive special treatment; that we deserve more than our fair share.
In today’s reading from Matthew’s Gospel, the landowner cuts to the heart of such complaints. After clarifying that no one has been cheated and everyone has received what they agreed to be paid, he asks, “…Are you envious because I am generous?” That really is the crux of the matter. It’s not that the workers were cheated or not paid, but rather, they felt they should have received more than those who arrived later. We might side with those who put in a full day of hard labor, but this parable really isn’t about work. It is a description of the kingdom of God. In God’s kingdom, regardless of when we enter the gates: regardless of when we are welcomed home; we each receive the same measure of grace as everyone else. Such is the way of God and, as our landowner really asks, “Is not God allowed to do what God chooses with what belongs to God?” God can and will do what God wants to do. Frankly, as someone who came late to Christ, I rejoice that I received the same grace as those who came before me and will come after me: that like you, I am an equal member of God’s family.
Bishop Larry Benfield presented his own sermon at the main 10:15 am service. A transcript of that sermon will be posted soon.
Homily Transcript: Sept 11, 2011, The 13th Sunday after Pentecost, 8:00 a.m. Service
Holy Cross Homecoming Sunday & the Commemoration of the 10th Anniversary of 9/11. The Rev. R. Allan McCaslin
Readings: Exodus 14:19-31; Psalm 114; Romans 14:1-12; Matthew 18:21-35
From this morning’s Gospel: “Then (the king) summoned (his slave) and said to him … ‘I forgave you all that debt because you pleaded with me. Should you not have had mercy … as I had mercy on you?’” I speak to you in the Name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
I think it providential that on a day when we celebrate our Homecoming on this feast of the Holy Cross – that symbol of our redemption and reconciliation with God, and on this day when we commemorate the 10th anniversary of the terrorist attacks on America, our scripture lessons call us to forgive.
On the one hand, we might find it easier to at least ponder forgiving the perpetrators of those brutal, dreadful acts that occurred on 9/11 ten years ago than to examine our own past history as a parish: a history that for all its joys and triumphs is still tarnished by memories of deep hurts from the past and an inability to forgive. The sexual molestation of children by a priest a generation ago; the violation of the Seal of the Confessional by another priest a decade ago; the lasting wounds from crimes in our city; and the loss of friendships and sense of common mission when this parish split; makes it difficult to hear our Lord’s words in today’s Gospel reading.
When asked how often we should forgive someone who has wronged us repeatedly, our Lord says not seven times, as was the Hebrew standard, but rather, seventy times seven. Jesus goes on to tell a parable about a king and his slaves one of whom owes this king a great sum of money that he cannot repay. The slave begs for mercy and hearing the sincerity of his plea, the king forgives his debts. We see the king’s conduct as a clear demonstration of grace and forgiveness. But, the story continues: This same slave then turns on those who owe him some money and he demands payment, threatens them with physical violence and, when they cannot pay him, he has them thrown in prison. The king hears about this and intercedes, “I forgave you all that debt because you pleaded with me. Should you not have had mercy … as I had mercy on you?” And the king, in his anger, hands this fellow over to torture and imprisonment.
Countless theologians have argued this parable is an example of the conditional forgiveness of God. God’s forgiveness, they say, is dependent upon our own willingness to forgive. But Jesus does not suggest that the king represents God in this story, but rather, his story describes the awful burden we carry when we fail to forgive as God forgives.
Last night, I was watching the Razorback game from Little Rock and during a panning shot of the stadium crowd, the camera focused in on a poster that depicted the former twin towers of the World Trade Center with the date of 9/11 and beneath it were the words, “Never forget.” And I agree that we should never forget what happened on that day just as we should never forget any of the great wrongs we have experienced. And yet, our lessons tell us that while we can remember, we must be able to forgive. Forgiving our neighbor allows God’s healing grace to work within us. Wounds can be healed and yet a scar of remembrance will remain to be recalled, not from a sense of vengeance, but rather, as a reminder of what happened, as well as a reminder of God’s mercy and grace to us in Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ who, upon that Holy Cross, said, “Father forgive them” and redeemed us forever. Still, it is difficult for most of us to forgive.
Several years ago, I was the victim of a violent crime. Because I still carry the physical and emotional scars from that event, I cannot forget it. In fact, I am reminded of it each day. Sometimes more deeply than at other times, but I am reminded just the same. But, I can tell you that being able to face my perpetrators and say, “I forgive you” has enabled me to move forward in my life. Forget? No, but I can forgive. I am not suggesting this morning that you emulate my example, because the reality is that there are times when, like the king in today’s Gospel story, I take back that forgiveness even if it’s just for a moment. And my spirit grieves within me.
We serve a truly awesome God who, our Old Testament lesson tells us, can do incredible things. The most poignant learning we can grasp from the story of Israel crossing the Red Sea is that a people who could not free themselves, were suddenly freed: God did for the people what they could not do themselves. The good news of the Gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ is that fallen humankind that could not redeem itself from sin has been redeemed by God and set free. God through Christ has said, “I forgive you” and“I still forgive you.” The hard part for us though is to say the Lord’s Prayer in all sincerity and ask God to forgive us our sins as we forgive those who have sinned against us.
St. Paul in today’s reading from Romans reminds us that we all will stand before the same Lord on the last day. So, Paul says, who are we to judge our neighbors? We are called to live as Christ. We are called to pray, “Father forgive them.” We no longer live for ourselves, but rather, whether we live or die, Paul says, we are the Lord’s and we are called to be his reconciling and forgiving light in this world. Yet, it is hard to forgive. But it is our baptismal promise and forgiveness yields an abundance of grace.
Our Collect this morning for Holy Cross Day asks that God would mercifully grant that we, who glory in the mystery of our redemption – our forgiveness – will have enough grace to take up that cross and be Christ’s reconciling and forgiving presence in this church and this community.
Jesus said, “Then (the king) summoned (his slave) and said to him … ‘I forgave you all that debt because you pleaded with me. Should you not have had mercy … as I had mercy on you?’” May God stir our hearts and show us a way that as a community of faith, we might be instruments of reconciliation and forgiveness in our communities, our families, and even within our own selves so that our name “Holy Cross Episcopal Church” embodies, demonstrates, and offers life-changing forgiveness for all who gather here. Amen.
Sermon Transcript: Sept 4, 2011, The 12th Sunday after Pentecost, The Rev. R. Allan McCaslin
Readings: Exodus 12:1-14; Psalm 149; Romans 13:8-14; Matthew 18:15-20
From this morning’s Gospel, (Jesus said) “For where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them.” I speak
to you in the Name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
When someone begins a sentence with, “I don’t want to say anything, but…” I know that I am not about to hear some good news. I think that many of us dread hearing those words as much as any child dreads hearing, “Wait ‘til your father gets home.” Both of these statements suggest that something bad may be about to happen. For those who grew up in homes with especially abusive fathers, hearing “Wait ‘til your father gets home”would strike terror. When someone comments, “I don’t want to say anything, but…”we should be equally cautious, because, in my experience, we are either going to hear some sort of malicious gossip, or we are about to hear something about someone else’s sin and it is suddenly, somehow, going to become our problem.
In this morning’s Gospel reading, Jesus suggests that both phrases have no place in the Church. Instead, he offers a Christian perspective that how we address sin and resolve our differences can either further the cause of the Gospel or distract us from it. In the verses leading up to today’s reading (Matt. 18:6-14) Jesus has said that we must always exercise care in how we live, lest our lifestyle, our choices, lead someone else to stumble or to outright walk away from the Church. In today’s lesson, Jesus takes things a step further. Yes, we can be careful about our own choices, but how do we confront those who insist on choosing blatant sin? Jesus speaks to the heart of the matter here recognizing that not only unrepentant people, but how we respond to them, can threaten the very life, peace, and unity of the Church. Jesus’ instruction urges us to understand that if Christ is present whenever two or three are gathered in his name, then we should be able to find reconciliation and redemption, rather than division.
Sermon: August 28, 2011 - The 11th Sunday after Pentecost - The Rev. R. Allan McCaslin
Readings: Exodus: 3:1-5; Psalm 105:1-6,23-26,45c; Romans 12:9-21; Matthew 16:21-28
From Exodus, (God said) “Come no closer! Remove the sandals from your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground.” I speak to you in the Name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Fires and earthquakes and hurricanes, oh my! This past week has been filled with dire news of storms and tempests both of natural origin like earthquakes and hurricanes, as well as those of human origin: the fierce storms of political upheaval and military coups that shake the very foundations of how we think and act.
In our lessons this morning, we understand that God is at work in the midst of life. From Moses’ own call to ministry, to Jesus’ foretelling his death, to St. Paul’s description of true discipleship, God is very much present in each situation, just as God is present with us and to us today.
The Old Testament is filled with narrative stories describing how God called specific people to a specific task in every generation. In today’s reading from Exodus, God calls Moses into a new role. And Moses asks, “Why me?” If you take the time to review every Old Testament story where God calls someone, the called person always discounts their skills and abilities. This was true of Isaiah, Jeremiah, Amos, Hosea: all of them and more. Sometimes these people cited their unworthiness, “O Lord, I am not holy enough or worthy enough to do this. You should find someone else,” as if we can, somehow, change God’s mind about whom God calls. Or, the person will cite their lack of public speaking skills or abilities, “But Lord, I have a stutter and people will make fun of me.” And each time, regardless of the excuse, God’s answer is the same: “Don’t worry, I will be with you” or “I will put my words into your mouth” or “I will guide you,” and so on. God’s point is this: our call is never about our abilities or lack thereof. It is always about advancing God’s purposes. God chooses ordinary, everyday people and calls us to ministry and service.
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