Sunday, August 30, 2020

August 30, 2020 - The Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost


Lectionary Readings

Gracious and loving God, Graft in our hearts the love of your Name; increase in us true religion; and nourish us with all goodness. This we pray in the name of the God who is. Amen.

            What is religion? It seems like such a simple question, but the answer has implications that will, quite literally, change our lives and our world. There are certainly many ways to think about religion – as being the defining narrative story of our lives, as the ultimate truth of the world, as the beliefs about God that bind us together, as our value and ethical system, or, as one person has put it, our preferred sin management solution.

            The question that I’m really getting at is whether or not religion is a part of our lives, something that influences our decisions and shapes our values, or is religion the entirety, not just a part, of our lives? Something that not influences our decisions, but drives them and that does not merely shape our values, but dictates them. Today’s Collect gives us a clue as to which of these is we’re after: “Lord of all power and might, the author and giver of all good gifts.”

            God is not one priority among many, God is all in all. Other priorities might flow from faith in God, but God is the only thing that matters because everything else derives its meaning from God. This is at the root of Judaism and Christianity. Faithful Jews recite Deuteronomy 6:4-5, known as the Shema, several times a day. It reads, “Hear, O Israel: The Lord is our God; the Lord alone. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all our soul, and with all your strength.” And when Jesus is asked what the greatest commandment is, he starts there, with the Shema, which is an acknowledgment of the unilateral and unequivocal totality of God in our world and in our lives. Using today’s texts from Exodus and Matthew, I want us to consider why it is that we have such a difficult time letting God be God.

            We start with Exodus because, in this passage, we have one of the clearest revelations into the nature and identity of God. Last Sunday, we heard about the birth of Moses which really was a story about the five women who saved him from being drowned in the Nile. We skip ahead in the narrative to one day when Moses saw a bush ablaze that was not consumed by the fire, which leads to one of the holiest encounters in Scripture. A voice comes from the bush identifying itself as the God of Moses’ father, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob who has heard the cries of the Hebrew people, God’s own people, in Egypt. God sees us in our pain and misery. God is moved with outrage and passion when people are oppressed. And God intends to do something about this. God tells Moses that he will go to Pharaoh and liberate the people from their slavery.

            Moses isn’t so sure. “Well, that’s nice of you to think of me as being the right person for that job. I’m really not well qualified for this work. And, uh, I don’t think I caught your name. See, I couldn’t even tell Pharaoh who sent me on this mission. I’m pretty busy out here in Midian, what with the flock and all. But best of luck to you.” “I AM WHO I AM,” comes the response. And God clarifies, “This is my name forever, and my title for all generations.” This is why this passage gets so much attention – this is God’s name and title.

            And if we had kept reading from Exodus, we’d see Moses come up with other reasons for why he isn’t the right person for this task. But God counters all these excuses and Moses does eventually go down, way down in Egypt’s land to tell ol’ Pharaoh to let God’s people go. Of great interest is the name that God gives: “I AM WHO I AM,” which is shortened to as “I AM.” Whenever you are reading Scripture and you run into the word “Lord” in all capital letters, it is a direct reference to this divine name. It’s part of what gets Jesus in so much trouble when he goes around saying things like “I am the bread of life” or “I am the good shepherd.” He’s harkening back to this personal name of God Almighty.

            It’s a notoriously difficult phrase to translate, and the most that we can definitively say about it is that God’s name is related to the word for “being.” It might mean, “I am who I will be,” connoting a sense of everlastingness. It might be, “I will be known by what I do,” alluding to God’s faithfulness. Some scholars note that in Hebrew, this name is full of breathy sounds, almost as if God’s name is breathed, not said. However we want to understand this name, it is an enigma. God’s name is not something that means anything, rather it envelops all meaning. God’s essence is not something to be understood, as God passes all understanding. God’s being is not to be grasped, as God is always a mystery beyond our full knowing. God is wild and untamable, the source of all that is and all that shall be. The truest thing that we can ever say, both from a philosophical and Biblical perspective is that God is. And this is the core of religion – God’s being. We live our lives in response to and in light of the fact that God is. This is why it is so important to hear each day that the Lord is God alone and that we are to love this God who is being with all our heart, souls, and strength.

            But, if we’re honest with ourselves, we admit that we don’t always live with “God is” as our central story. We fit religion into our lives instead of fitting our lives into the reality of loving God with all our heart, soul, and strength. We don’t want such a demanding God. We don’t want a God who is Lord of all things – because we’d really rather have politics, and economics, and conflicts resolution, and romance be arenas where we are the masters of our own domains. A stand-in for you and me this morning is St. Peter, who says as much to Jesus.

            In last Sunday’s reading, when Jesus asked his disciples “Who do you say that I am?” (and you’ll hear a double meaning there with God’s proper name) Peter says, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.” In the section we heard today, Jesus gives some details into what that means, namely that he “must go to Jerusalem, endure suffering, be killed, and rise on the third day.” To be clear, that final part about rising on the third day does not undo the tragedy of all that comes before. This isn’t the version of God’s Messiah that Peter wanted. Jesus is talking about picking up a cross. The best modern analogy to this is the sort of lynching that so many blacks endured in this nation. Crucifixion, like lynching, was about inflicting as much pain and humiliation as was possible in a way that was dehumanizing and degrading.

            Notice that Jesus doesn’t explain to Peter and the disciples that his Crucifixion would probably happen because he was going to upset the status quo. No, Jesus says that he “must” endure these things. Jesus is saying that there is a logical and necessary connection between the Messiah and the Cross. And this makes no sense to Peter, or to any of us.

            Looking at our society, and our own preferences, we see that we value things like power, fame, glory, wealth, strength, and winning. But the Cross is none of these things. The Cross is about weakness, shame, rejection, humiliation, pain, death, and criminality. Just as we don’t particularly want religion to influence every decision, action, and interaction, we don’t want losing to be at the center of who we are. But Jesus says, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” One of the many wonderful Prayer Book prayers prays, “Grant that we, walking in the way of the cross, may find it none other than the way of life and peace.” And today’s Collect had us to pray for true religion to be increased in us. Well, now we see what true religion is all about – it is about a God who gets into every nook and cranny of our lives and would have us to share in Jesus’ Crucifixion as a way of life. In the words of St. Peter, “God forbid it.”

            Like Peter, this isn’t what we expect or want. So we find ways to domesticate the Gospel and make it fit into our terms. Maybe you’ve seen him – there’s a guy that walks around Salisbury carrying a large wooden cross, but he’s attached a wheel to it to make it easier to carry. That’s a metaphor what for St. Peter did when he rebuked Jesus and that’s what we do when we have God as a part of our life instead of the totality of it; or when we forget that Jesus has more in common with a victim of lynching than someone running for Congress. And, rightly, Jesus turns back to Peter and says, “Get behind me, Satan.” Just last Sunday we hear Peter being called the “rock” and now he’s a “stumbling block.” Jesus notes that Peter is at fault for setting his mind on human things and not divine things. In other words, he’s not focusing on true religion, he’s living a version of religion that better suits his narrative. He’s not letting God be God.

            Just look at the quagmire that our society is in right now. We’ve got a crisis of leadership, we have bitter and blind partisanship instead of a functioning democracy, we remain in the midst of a pandemic, we have social, economic, and racial inequalities that are baked into our systems, and I could go on, but we don’t need more examples to overwhelm us. Now am I saying that if all just turned to my version of Christianity that things would magically get better? Of course not.

            But I do know that the Church looks more like a club than true religion in most of its manifestations. I do know that we put God into boxes and fight over who controls the box. I do know that we live in a death-dealing society instead of a life-affirming one. I do know that given a choice between the Cross and another path, like Frank Sinatra, we prefer to do it my way. I do know that I like the easy way out.

            When Moses first questions God, asking “Who am I that I should go?” God gives Moses a rather odd sign of assurance. God says, “When you have brought the people out of Egypt, you shall worship God on this mountain.” Essentially, when everything is okay, you will know that things are okay. But this strange promise actually tells us something about true religion. God not only delivers us from something – sin, death, oppression, selfishness – but God also delivers us to something. God brings us to a place where we can worship, where we can be still and know that God is God, where we can love the Lord our God with all our heart, all our soul, and all our strength. Worship is where we find our fulfillment, our purpose, our joy. Worship is about encountering the God who is – the source of everything and the orientation towards which all things point. Worship is about acknowledging, adoring, and aligning ourselves with the Crucified Jesus. In worship, we find true religion. Will worship solve all of our societal problems? Probably not. Worship is not a means to an end. But a greater focus on worshipping the Lord who is and who died on a Cross out of love for us will be the sign that, indeed, God is with us and that all shall be well.