What are the things that matter most? I’m sure we could all come up with responses, and because we’re all in the same culture, our answers would likely be fairly similar: family, church, community, vocational goals, hobbies, serving the least of these. None of these, of course, are bad things. But finding someone who has found the balance in actually prioritizing all of those things would be quite the find. And I don’t know about you all, but I’m exhausted by all of the things that are constantly in front of us. Because of technology, we know far more about the world than we are able to handle. Within a span of just a few minutes on a phone, I can see that we’re in a bear market and quite possibly heading for a recession, I can see reports of the latest carnage in Ukraine, I can read about partisan gridlock in Congress, I can look at charts showing that our nation is still averaging 100,000 new daily COVID cases, I can hear forecasts about violent hurricane season fueled by the climate catastrophe that is upon us and all of that is without thinking about all the people I know who are dealing with cancer, addiction, or depression. Between all that we want to do and care about, it’s exhausting just thinking about it.
Which
is one reason I’m so thankful to you all for the invitation to be with you this
week in Linville. Having an opportunity to be here for a week is a tremendous
blessing to clergy and their families in the midst of the frenetic pace of life
and ministry. A Biblical passage that has been on my mind recently is one that
we didn’t read today, but I’m sure many of us know it. Jesus goes to the home
of Mary and Martha. Mary sits at Jesus’ feet, presumably to be near his peace
and to learn from him. Meanwhile, Martha is distracted and concerned about many
things, including meal preparation. When Martha complains that Mary ought to be
helping her, Jesus says that Mary has chosen the better part, because there is
need of only one thing. I’ve been thinking a lot about how distracted we all
are, both as individuals and as a people.
And
so when I read this morning’s Collect in preparation for this sermon, it resonated
with that uneasiness that seems to be in the water: O Lord, make us have
perpetual love and reverence for your holy name. That prayer dates back to the
700s, and it has helped the faithful throughout the centuries to find grounding
amidst the changes and chances of life. That sense of being pulled in a dozen
different directions, which, as you may know, is actually an older form of
torture known as being “quartered,” which should tell us something about the
perils of trying to multi-task – but having too many priorities and concerns is
demoralizing, destabilizing, and deflating.
Intuitively,
I think we all know that Jesus is the answer. He is the one who says to us “Come
to me all who labor and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.”
It’s just that we’ve been trained to think that it is weak to ask for help or
to take a break. So even though we appreciate the offer from Jesus, we have
been conditioned to say “Thanks, but I can handle this.” But we know that isn’t
true because of how unhealthy our society is. We said in the Psalm that “As the
deer longs for the water-brooks, so longs our souls for God.” St. Augustine famously
put it this way: “Our hearts are restless until they rest in God.”
When
we are pulled in so many directions and have too many priorities, the result is
that we are left without a solid foundation. Without a center, nothing can hold
together. There is a void created in us because we are so distracted and so
captive to sin. And try as we might, we can’t fill that space. We try virtues
and we try vices, but there is no amount of volunteering or gambling that can fill
that black hole of distraction and worry that comes from modern life. There is only
one thing that can give us the peace that passes all understanding. As the
Psalmist proclaims, “My soul is athirst for God, athirst for the living God.”
And
this is what the Collect is training us to focus on – love and reference for
God’s holy name. This is the sure foundation of God’s love that is a sure
enough foundation to support us in our many priorities and to give us hope for
the future given all that is going astray.
While
it can be tempting to think that our particular historical moment is unique in
its perilousness, it is not. St. Paul was dealing with similar frustration and
uncertainty when we wrote to the Galatians. The point of this letter, which
reads more like a rant, is that because we are “in Christ” everything is
different. The language we are given in today’s passage is that, through
Baptism, we have been clothed in Christ.
Forgetting
that we are clothed in Christ is a big part of the distractedness that we are
dealing with. We open the proverbial closet of our lives and we have a nearly
overwhelming set of clothes to put on. Am I a boss, a spouse, a constituent, a
consumer, an advocate, a retiree, a grandparent? And it’s the same when it
comes to thinking about our society: do I put my energy into environmental
issues, or immigration, or childhood literacy rates, and the list never ends.
There is always one more cause to consider taking up, one more role that we could
put one.
And
what we metaphorically wear ends up putting us into various factions at odds
with one another over what should be the highest priories. St. Paul describes
some of these divisions as Jew and Greek, slave and free, male and female and
he says that because we have been clothed in Christ, then we are all one in
Christ Jesus and those distinctions no longer need to be divisive or
distracting.
We
are so good at spotting differences. It’s even a puzzle that many children will
know – spot the difference between these two pictures. This isn’t to say that
differences are bad, but they ought not be what we focus on, especially when it
comes to people and fellow Christians. The Galatian church is one that was
being torn apart by divisions, by some who wanted to prioritize faithfulness to
the laws and rules of faith, and those who were following St. Paul’s teaching
about the supremacy of grace in all things. The specifics of the disagreement
aren’t what matters though, but rather the disunity that is being caused. That
is the thrust of St. Paul’s response – not to write a theological doctrine
about salvation and the proper place of the law, but rather an appeal to the
oneness that comes through being clothed in Christ.
This
oneness, this clothing of faith, is about having love and reverence for God’s
name. That is what Baptism is all about – being immersed into God’s love and
seeing ourselves as a part of God’s story instead of thinking that God is a
part of ours. This is why, from the earliest days of the Church, Baptism has
been described as dying to self and rising to new life in Christ. When the
waters of Baptism wash over us, they can wash away all of those competing
distractions and concerns if we’ll just loosen our grip on them. There is only
one thing to hold one, and that is the love of God in Christ Jesus.
It
is as Jesus says – those who want to save their life will lose it, and those
who lose it in his name will be transformed into having abundant and eternal life.
In clinging to all of those identities, priorities, and worries, we end up
anchoring ourselves to things other than the gracious love of God, which the
truly the one thing that we have need of.
Now,
the goal is never uniformity. We don’t want to erase differences or diversity,
but rather we want to recognize that while our differences may describe us,
they do not define us. We are defined by the love of God in Christ Jesus and
that is our truest and deepest identity, as we have been clothed with his grace
and mercy. The elimination of our priorities or ignoring things that ought to
concern us is not the goal. Rather, we want to be something like an orchestra. We
might be in different sections like brass, woodwinds, or strings, and that’s
okay. The last thing we need is an oboist trying to play a trombone. And it’s
okay if some of us are holding a note while others are taking a rest. It can be
good if we’re not all playing the same notes. A symphony that is in absolute uniformity
wouldn’t be very interesting or beautiful. Rather, what stirs our souls is
harmony.
This
harmony in faith comes from Christ being at the center – he gives us our pitch,
our tempo, our direction. This is both the amazing grace and the challenge of
Christianity: that we have all we need to flourish, but it has to be received
as a gift and is not the product of our own making. When we are united in love,
amazing things can happen because we trust that we are all a part of the same
ensemble. When we ascribe reverence to God’s name instead of our own names, or
our need to be right, or our reputation, accolades, or resources, we are then
free to join the hymn that God is orchestrating.
How do we participate in this glorious music? As the Collect tells us, with love and reverence for God’s name. Just like being in an orchestra, we have to listen to those around us. We have to watch the conductor to make sure we are in tempo with others. We have to read what is front of us, thinking of both Scripture and tradition, to make sure we’re playing the notes given to us instead of just ones that we are making up. We have to spend time doing things like resting, praying, and being generous with time and treasure to make sure we are in tune with the conductor. And we also have to spend time in worship with others – as an orchestra doesn’t work if everyone practices on their own and has never played with others before. And as we do these things, we train ourselves to have love and reverence for the holy name of Jesus in whom we find that peace of God which our souls long for. Indeed, these are confusing, disturbing, and distracting times, but thanks be to God for giving us a sure foundation of love which hopes all things, endures all things, and bears all things. Amen.
