23 July 2021

Sermon, Pentecost +7 (B)

 Is anyone unnerved by today’s scriptures? Not just the violence of Herod’s bloody dinner party; but how the readings all seem to suggest realities that don’t *quite* jive?

Well, that may be because they are a bit off - unsettling, even, as something’s not quite right in them. And that thing is the invitation to change a mind – a perspective, an action, a practice – to better align with God’s will. And change – we know – is hard.

First, we hear of David’s enthusiasm in the presence of the ark of the covenant, that carrying case holding the stone Tablets from Moses’ mountain-top dialogues with the divine.
Of course people celebrated whenever they saw the ark, as it conveyed God’s presence among them - the continuity of God’s close presence from the past, through the present, into the future. And divine presence inspired a ritual. Great!
But – gradually, the ritual became more important than the presence. The particulars of the might of the dance, and the number of paces (6 only; not 5, not 7), the precision of food distribution.
In an effort to do things right, to the best of their ability – the focus had shifted away from the reason they were celebrating to the celebration itself; from the presence to the party.
We can fall into that trap too. We easily do things because we’ve always done them that way – and we can overlook the purpose of why we’re doing it. COVID helped us re-think many of the things that are important, inspiring new ways of doing them - like medical appoints by phone, birthday parties as drive-by parades, worshiping together in these weird and wonderful ways.
We were unsettled – our patterns and rhythms disappeared in a hurry - and we adapted. And the invitation remains, as we move forward, to continue adapting, so that our actions reflect our intentions: adjusting some existing patterns into newer expressions of our life in faith today. Dancing with the divine is still a thing; it can just look different.

Next – the psalm: the earth is the Lord’s and all that is in it! Absolutely!
But… do we act that way? Let’s consider our relationship with the earth… and each other… and future generations… this psalm challenges us to change our mindset, as Christians, to see the sacred realities in ALL the world around us. To engage with the world and all that is therein – as divine gifts from God. Whether it’s the gorgeous hummingbird or the grimy earthworm, all are sacred; all are the Lord’s.
As the self-reflective creatures that God made us to be, we are called to recognise our unique responsibility – in caring for all of creation, for today and for tomorrows. Our decisions and lifestyles need not just be of economic short-term benefit for investors.
In walking gently on the earth, and with one another, we move towards a sustainable lifestyle; the integrity of our actions matching our words: the earth IS the Lord’s, to celebrate and take delight in– not ours to ravage. The earth is the Lord’s – the glorious one – and we are guests of the Lord of Hosts who reigns in glory.
We have the opportunity to be unnerved by how we, as modern society, have shifted away from celebrating this; and how we – as people of faith – can return towards a higher respect for the Lord’s earth.

The epistle feels gentle and comfortable, while inviting reflection on how we think about spiritual blessings.
Because Paul is writing to a divided and polarised community that is feeling, and acting, in an us-versus-them mentality.
We’d like to think we’re advanced beyond that type of primitive thinking, but start a conversation about politics, or gender rights, or the economy, or vaccines – GASP!!
We have social issues that divide us; and we aren’t always great at seeking common ground or mutual understanding. Us-versus-them – we’re still there.
And this letter reminds us of the power and beauty of changing our minds. NOT necessarily asking us to change our beliefs, but rather our engagement with one another about those beliefs.
Because we can disagree and still be kind; we can have different backgrounds and still be compassionate; we can have polarised perspectives and still be friends.
The letter to the Ephesians is a letter to our society today, encouraging us to be models of a new humanity, a new church, a new expression of God’s love and blessing.
And that can unnerve us a little bit, as we shift from personal justifications and socially-accepted divisions, to a community that celebrates God’s blessings for all. We grow when we understand that we don’t control God’s blessings, and that God’s grace is as abundantly lavished on the people we dislike as the ones we like.
So we change our mind: and delight in the harmony of being God’s people – all of us – as we move closer to bringing about the kingdom of God.

And… then the Gospel passage transports us to the gruesome awkwardness of Herod’s dinner party. I say awkward, because it’s Herod.
He’s a braggart; showing off to a full house of friends and acquaintances; and possibly some adversaries, too, in a political demonstration of power and authority. He’s playing to the crowd, piling on ridiculous promises to the exorbitant setting and the opulence of the feast.
Until: he gets in over his head (if you’ll pardon the pun).
He expected the dancing girl to ask for something monetary – gold, jewels, what have you - and instead she demands death. A visible, immediate, gory, irrefutable, death. On a platter, if you please.
While the logical thing would be for Herod to dismiss the girl with a financial payoff, his ego insists that the dinner guests not see him as being changeable or even weak; for the weak could be overthrown.
Rooted in his insecurities, desperate not to lose his sense of status and position; he agrees for John’s head to be removed.
It’s unnerving, to be sure. Not just for the violence, but for all of us to see the slippery slope of choosing what’s popular over what is right. Of choosing what is easy (Herod didn’t do the deed himself, after all) – over what is appropriate. Of choosing what is socially accepted or entertaining over what is just.
Like when we hear racist jokes, and don’t speak against them… or witness sexism, and don’t intervene… or any other activity that denies the full life and personhood of someone else. It’s easier to laugh nervously or turn away, when the target isn’t us; rather than speak up and maybe become the next target.
Slippery slope, indeed.
BUT: again, the word of God challenges us, and invites us to avoid that slippery slope altogether.
By using our words carefully: in what we promise, in what we offer, in what we say.
By using our actions carefully: in what we do, in what we leave undone, in what we turn a blind eye to.
And: by using our ministry carefully. For in our ministry – and we are all ministering to the world – it is in what we do that we become known: in the church, in our communities, in the world. And so we minister – not for our own glory, but for the Glory of God.

So let’s allow the scriptures, the words of God, to unnerve us how we need to be unnerved. Let’s be unsettled, when we recognise the unsettling realities in our own lives.
Let’s recognise the power of changing our minds, when that change brings us to thought, word, and action that moves us towards fulling living the Good News of God.
Because that change is not weakness, but a re-orientation to the core of who we are and who we want to be: beloved children of God:
So let’s be intentional with our lives, just as we are intentional with the lessons of the scriptures – and
Live with integrity.
Act with justice.
Love with abundance.
Trusting that we journey ever closer to our God.

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