Pentecost +21

On Matthew 22.34-40

            The past few Sundays, we've heard again and again in Matthew's gospel where Jesus is looking conventional wisdom in the face - and turning it on its head.

            Two weeks ago the wedding banquet saw a king go from cruelty towards invited guests and friends, to compassionate to social outcasts and misfits, to cruelty again in judging someone unworthy.

            Last week of course the Pharisees and Herodians gang up with the unanswerable question about taxes, Jesus' answer to which befuddles both sides of the coin, so to speak.

            And today: hidden within the text, more unlikely behaviour.

            It starts with the unlikely behaviour of the Pharisees picking up where the Sadducees have been silenced. This is important: because these two Jewish sects are NOT friendly with each other: they've got a history of conflict, in fact. Religious beliefs, cultural understanding, legal interpretation, worship practices: if they can find a way to argue, they do.  So it is significant that these two groups are mentioned in the same sentence. When it came to the effort of taking down Jesus, they were willing to put their differences aside.

            Yikes. How threatened they must have felt!

            So there they are, this legalistic group, and they source out their best legal mind, and they send him off to stump this uneducated, unaffiliated upstart of a man.

            Which commandment in the law is the greatest?

            In Halakha, or Jewish law, there are 613 commandments. They range through civil and religious laws that structure the Jewish life. They are found in the Torah, what we call the Pentateuch (the books of Moses, or first 5 books of the Hebrew - or 'OLD' - Testament.)

            So. out of these 613, Jesus is to answer which is the most important.

            And his reply, of course, we all know: Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, and mind.

            This, of course, is not the first time these words have been uttered. Jesus cites them directly from their original source in the Hebrew scriptures, Deuteronomy.     And in that context, God commands God's people to carry those words in their heart, that they be taught dilligently to their children, that they be spoken regularly, that they be written and bound on foreheads and forearms, and on doorposts. To this day, tefillin (black cubes) are holding these words are bound to forehead and arms during morning worship, and a Mezuzah - or inscription on a doorpost - indicates the dwellers of that home are observant Jews.

            These words, this commandment, truly is great and common in Jewish culture. The beauty of these words are not merely that they are poetic and perfect; it's that they inspire the faithful into daily action.

            Love the Lord Your God. With all your heart, and soul, and mind.

            With all that you are and with all that you have, Love God.

            It sounds great, and is easy to do when we're getting our own way - yet this commandment exists to remind us that we are called to practice this love when things aren't sunshine and butterflies, too.

            And this can be hard. It's hard when life gets difficult, and busy, and distracting, to think about putting God first. To consider how to move beyond the restrictions and distractions of this realm and instead put our focus on God - and God alone.

            However - that's the law. Jesus identified it as the primary law. The most important law. The Greatest Commandment: love.

            It's an abstract commandment - it's not concrete, it's not a black and white assessment. There's no numeric value, there's no gradient scale, it's not even first in the order in the book. It's just there. Love God.

            And this love is not a duty, but a privilege. We have been invited to love God above all else simply because we can. Because we can celebrate that God first loved us. Because we can reciprocate that great gift.

            ...and here Jesus takes his reply further. The lawyer asked for one great law; Jesus gives him the second greatest as well.

            Love your neighbour as yourself.

            That's a tough one sometimes. Because we don't always *like* our neighbour. But we are called to love them.

            In fact, we are commanded to love them.

            So while the world will say to ignore the people we don't like, or mock the people we don't agree with, or insult the people with customs we don't understand, or.give us any other pathetic and flawed rationale to seek out differences rather than commonalities, and to react from fear and anger: God commands us to love.

            And not just with some sort of minimal effort: no, Jesus tells us what God has always told God's people: love them like you want to be loved. With dignity, with respect, with appreciation, with compassion.

            Love. Fully, completely, illogically, excessively, unstoppably.

            So why these two? They don't follow automatically in the original text. In fact, it's in a different book altogether. Love God is Deuteronomy 6.5, Love your neighbour is Leviticus 19.18.

            Because - as Jesus says: on these 2 commandments hang all the law and the prophets.

            Or, to put it another way, because these two commandments are the basis of how God invites us to be the church for the entirety of our human experience. 

These are held up by everything in the law and the by the prophets. Which means that every aspect of the Hebrew texts - the 613 laws, the wisdom, the prayers, the prophesies, the history, the teachings: everything that is to be found in Book of God that we call the Old Testament influences and impacts these 2 commandments.

            Love God, with all you have.

            Love your neighbour, as you want to be loved.

            So our question then becomes: with all of our faith history telling us to do this - how can we do this better? Why do we allow the world to orient us away from love?

            We all have our different reasons: and as we journey inwardly toward God, we can discover more and more what they are.

            And when we know what they are, we can actively choose to redirect ourselves towards love. We can turn away from whatever will keep us from knowing God's perfect love. We can choose to keep love as a verb (an action) rather than as a noun (a thing).  We can find ways to make love so strong that we will be amazed that we ever thought of love as 'abstract'.

            Love God. Love your neighbour.

            What wonderful laws within which to frame our lives.

Pentecost +20

Ex 33.12-23; Ps 99; 1Thess 1.1-10; Mt 22.15-22

            There’s an interesting  trend in our readings today. Did you notice how throughout all the interactions, there is a clearly articulated distinction between what is heavenly and what is earthly? And yet – despite this distinction, there is a desire (on both sides!) to be in constant contact one with the other. Yes: we who are in the earthly realm are always trying to get closer to the heavenly; and the divine is always trying to be closer to us.

            It’s an interesting trend, and – in my opinion – a beautiful one.

            So in Exodus we have Moses and YHWH having a charming little chat. Very personal, very intimate. Here’s one a learning moment for us all, an account of an every-day human speaking directly with God. And, of course, listening intently to the responses.

            As the conversation progresses, we recognise that God is revealing something very important to Moses – and by extension to the people of Israel – and to us – and to the generations that are yet unimagined. God is revealing deeper and deeper layers of Godself. There is more to be learned, more to be loved, more to engage with. 
And Moses, of course, still wants more.

            Don’t we all!

            And so God gives to Moses the absolute most that any human entity can withstand – a passby, with contact.

            Now, for some people, this may seem like it’s not enough, but when we realise God’s motives are for Moses’ own protection, it changes things. God knows that humans, his creation, cannot withstand the sight of God. So God presents, veiled, passing by the back, stretching out a comforting and assuring hand to touch Moses.

            How beautiful. How interesting.

            How clear a distinction between this world and the next, acknowledged and maintained for Moses’ own good. Yet also clearly done to show the desire for Moses to be closer to God, and for God to be closer to Moses.

            Our Psalmist indicates a similar reality: God is on the holy hill – a hill we all aspire to, a place we all want to climb towards. And, from the top of the hill, God can see us journeying, and offering support, and await when we will connect in the next realm. And we grow and benefit from that journey.

            As we journey toward God, God reaches out towards us. How beautiful, and interesting.

            The Epistle is another example of this earthly journey; Paul compliments the faith of the community at Thessalonika, and invites them to reflect on who and whose they are. Their faith is good – and can always be better! Their journey has begun – and will continue throughout their lives.

            It’s a lovely letter Paul has written, encouraging the people to keep looking for God’s active presence in their lives. He lets them know that it’s okay if they don’t ‘see’ God in everything and every time – it doesn’t mean that God isn’t there. It does mean that they get another chance – and another, and another! To keep looking. Be present in this world, Paul tells them, but be open and searching as you progress toward the next. Know that as you journey towards God, God is reaching out to you.

            A beautiful and interesting message for that community.

            Then, of course, the Gospel.

            Here we have some folks, who have not always been friends (these Pharisees and Herodians – the religious elite and the political elite), yet they decide to cozy on up in order to stump Jesus.

            And so they give him false flattery before they do their best to trap them with an awkward and near impossible question.

            Should you pay taxes?

            Well, the question is actually much more nuanced. The tax was a poll tax, on the Jewish population. So, these ‘hypocrites’ as Jesus calls them, are waiting for Jesus to upset a large group of people. If he says that yes they should pay the tax, he upsets the Jewish people who are unimpressed by this unfair tax (and the emperor in general) to begin with. If, however, he says that they should not pay the tax, he is indicating civil disobedience against the government.

Awkward. Yet: Jesus turns it around – and gives the unanswerable an answer. And he does this by reminding everyone gathered of the distinction between the heavenly and the earthly.

            Show me a coin – Jesus says. And he points out that it belongs in this realm. It’s an earthly thing, not only will it not be present in heaven, but even if it were, it would be useless. And worthless. Because while the emperor may have his name and title on the coin here, in heaven the emperor is not the ruler.

            So – keep it here. Use the earthly coin for its earthly purpose. Pay the tax – it’s expected by political standards, so that’s fine. Give to the emperor that which belongs to the emperor.

            Let him have his reward in the here and now.

            BUT – Give to God that which belongs to God.

            And what belongs to God? We do. Our hearts, souls, minds, and strength. Our very being. Ourselves, our souls and bodies. Our worship. THAT is what belongs to God. And that is what is heavenly, breaking through into this realm, when we regularly engage with authentic spiritual devotion.

            How beautiful – and how interesting. It’s no wonder the Pharisees and the Herodians were amazed by this. Not only did Jesus avoid their trap, but he did so in such a way to emphasize how we are constantly invited to journey towards God, and how God is constantly reaching out to us. Distinct starting points, but with a profound and vested interest inbeing connected through faith.

            So I pray that as we continue on our journey, we too can recognise in our lives how this message applies. What is earthly in our lives, let us engage with in an earthly manner. What is heavenly, giving us glimpses of the kingdom, may we journey towards it.

            May we truly learn to discern the distinction, and may we put our emphasis exactly where it belongs: may we reach out to God, assured and delighted to know that God is always reaching out to us.

Sermon, Pentecost +19

Ex 32.1-14; Ps 106.1-6,19-23; Phil 4.1-9; Mt 22.1-14

This week’s readings had me reflecting on gifts. There's a difference, I think, in what we do with gifts that are given to us. We accept them - literally take them in. And we receive them - we open them, use them, appreciate them.

Two stages; but they are distinct. And that distinction is important: because I think there are always times when we might accept a gift, and then - intentionally or unintentionally - we don't receive that gift. It sits unopened, unloved, gathering dust in the back corner of the closet.        

Let's consider this in the context of our readings today.

In the Exodus narrative, the chosen people of Israel have been given the gift of freedom: they are no longer slaves, they are no longer in Egypt. Instead, they are free to worship, free to travel, free to love and live as they choose. No longer oppressed and denied their basic rights, God has given them Moses and Aaron, who led them on their journey.

What a gift! Then, out of sight out of mind! Moses is up a mountain longer than expected, and the people, fully aware of the great gift they've been given react: badly.

They reject the gift. They've accepted the gift of freedom - they're out of Egypt. They've seen the gift that's been given - God's protection and leadership. And yet, because it's taking longer than they want it to, they reject it. They reject God, choosing instead something they can touch and taste and mould in their own image. Something that they have contributed to, something false, something very earthly and temporary. "Distracted by shiny object" is an understatement!

Yet despite this, the giver keeps giving. God tells Moses he needs to straighten out the flock. God gives Aaron the chance to shift from rebellious pot-stirrer to one of the chief priests of all the people. God continues, despite the people's rejection, to shower grace upon them.

Grace: the gift that keeps on giving.

Our psalm reminds us of this exact place in Israel's history. Praise the Lord! it declares. Get your mind away from the earthly distractions and praise the Lord! God's love is stronger than golden calves or cartoon mice or what decal is on your car or fighting about who's more important. Praise the Lord! Accept the gift; receive the gift.

As Paul is writing his letter, he is sending the same message: Praise God. Don't be distracted. Stand firm in the Lord! Even when earth's realities are overwhelming and seem to be pulling you away from the gifts that God gives, even when it seems like God may be distant because we don't have that touch/taste/smell/feel like we have of the earthly things, Paul wants us to hold one another up in Christ. And to celebrate that the peace of God - God's great gift, which we don't have to understand or explain or justify to anyone - the gift of God's peace and grace will surround us and give us strength and encourage us to stay deeply rooted in the ways of the Lord. Keep on doing all things for the glory of God, and the God of peace will gift you with his grace.

Again: God's grace is the gift that keeps on giving.

Then the Gospel – what a whirlwind! How are we feeling about the Gospel?

The parable starts off a bit rocky... folks refusing a dinner invite which leads to mass murder and mayhem. Egads! But those first people are the braggarts, the ones who figure they don't need to accept anything, they've got it made on their own. "Accept an invitation? Receive hospitality? Nope, I'm too important for that!" They place their own sense of worth in what they have - the earthly objects that distract them from the love of God. Their own version of a golden calf, if you will.

And then we get the bit that we like. It's a feast, everyone's invited, come on in and party. Be greeted by your host, accept the invitation, receive the hospitality. Love it. Everyone wants in on this party. And Jesus is speaking in parables about God's kingdom - grand! God is the host, we are all invited, beautiful. God never stops reaching out to all of humanity.

So where do we get the dude being tossed out, bound, suffering, because he's not wearing a robe? That's a harsh dress code, if we read that just at face value.

But, as ever, Jesus invites us to dig deeper into what his message says for us.

The wedding robe: it's not just a garment, it's not an option, it was a very clear indication that you belonged. The wedding robe made every guest equally welcomed and appreciated. It didn't matter what your job was, or how big your bank account was, or what shoes you were wearing: it mattered that you were there with a grateful heart.

You accepted the gift by showing up when invited; you received the gift when you physically wore what your host provided.

So in God's kingdom, all are welcome, all are wanted, all are offered the gift of the grace of God which is to be worn like a robe. And this guy refused. Knowingly.

There are some cultural taboos here that cross generations: he accepted the invitation. “Free food and drink? Absolutely! Count me in. But you want me to actually respect the host? No thanks, I'd rather be a gatecrasher.”

This guy forces himself into the banquet. He wants the benefit of what's been offered. But then he flaunts his disassociation: he is even worse than the first offenders, who neither accepted nor received. He's schmoozing with the other guests, (and likely only the ones he deems to be acceptable: not the folks he thinks would be poor or destitute or undesireable - under their god-given robes). And this attitude shows that he has accepted but not received God's gift. In fact, he has intentionally rejected the gift of the host. He has demonstrated to everyone who would see him that he would NOT be robed in God's mercy. He has denied God's grace. He has chosen instead to rely on his own self.

No wonder he gets himself removed from the premises!

And he teaches us a very clear message. Those who wish to be judged by their human accomplishments, will be so judged: and there will be consequences.

But those who wish to truly be judged by their spiritual selves (imperfect but humble, accepting and receiving what God offers) will be judged by God, and by God alone.

How wonderful, then, to be reminded of the ever-flowing gifts that God gives us: the gift of love... the gift of peace... the gift of mercy... the gift of forgiveness... the gift of faith... the gift of salvation...

How wonderful too, that we are given the gift of community, which by extension gives us the gift of an opportunity to continue the giving of mercy and grace and love; those gifts that keep on giving.

I pray that as we come to feast, that we would be willing to accept and receive the gifts of God.

May we be careful to discern and reject those things which would keep us from the love of God.

May we be intentional as we accept the offer to come to God's table.

May we receive the grace that flows so freely on God's people, wearing it like a robe for all the world to see.