June
19, 2005
The Fifth Sunday after Pentecost
Gospel: Matthew 10:24-39
(This sermon is also available in audio.)
The
marketers have figured it out. They have figured out that we
are all on the search to find ourselves. They’ve also
figured out that we don’t really know how to find ourselves
and that we will pay thousands of dollars in pursuit of this
elusive goal. There’s therapy, self-help books, support
groups, and religious fanatics who cleverly capitalize on our
deep need to discover who we are. We are willing to follow
any plausible trail because we believe that if we find ourselves,
it will then become clear what we are here for, what our place
is, how and to whom we belong. And when we have all that in
place, we will finally have peace. We will be safe from struggle
and tragedy, and find the harmony and tranquility that we hope
will ease the craziness, the stress, the angst of our lives.
Yes, the lure for calming peace hooks us every time – but
one.
It
is that one of which I want to speak. Like a thief in the night – unexpected,
and often unwanted, we find ourselves in an encounter with
the Holy One. We are like Jacob awakened from sleep proclaiming, “how
dreadful is this place – it is none other than the house
of God and the gate of heaven.” We are like Saul on the
road to Damascus, dropped to the ground and blinded for three
days and nights. We are like the woman of Samaria meeting the
One who knew everything about her – even her darkest
deepest secrets. Like these Biblical figures, in the space
of an instant, we find ourselves in the presence and grasp
of God and we suddenly realize we no longer need to find ourselves,
and we discover that the peace we sought is something that
claims us rather than calms us. In that crucial moment we understand
that when we let go of all that we think is our life, we find
our true life.
We
are in the habit of thinking too narrowly about peace. We understand
it as being released from trouble or disorder, or having the
chaos of our lives stilled. Because of this narrow understanding
, we find Jesus’ words very disconcerting. “Do
not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have
not come to bring peace, but a sword.” These words sound
harsh, even hostile. We have lived our lives thinking that
we are supposed to pray to God to bring peace, calmness, and
serenity into our lives. But, these words seem to indicate
that the peace of God is anything but calmness and serenity.
This kind of peace seems to disturb more than calm, stir up
rather than soothe.
The
Sanskrit word for peace is pac and means to bind or
to fasten. It is the word we know as pact – to make a
bargain. Perhaps Jesus is reminding us that the peace we think
we want is, in fact, a peace that will bind us, fasten us to
a pleasant, boring, but ultimately nondescript life, while
the peace offered by heaven is full life – life rich,
varied, raw, and real. Life in all of its deepest reality.
Life that is fully alive, if you will. Perhaps, Jesus is reminding
us that he does not make bargains with anything less than that
full life. The sword that Jesus brings cuts and cleaves us
until we are unfastened from what is only a false peace and
freed for full life.
Contented,
peaceful fishermen
Before they ever knew
The peace of God that filled their hearts
Brimful and broke them too.
By William Alexander Percy, from The Hymnal 1982.
© 1985 by the Church Pension Fund
What
I am trying to tell you is this: life with the Holy One is
a dangerous and risky affair. We like to keep our relationship
with God as mild-tempered as a soft evening breeze on a warm
summer night. Pleasant, delightful, temporary, free of scratchy
edges and sharp prods. But, such a life with God is ultimately
as tasteless as the pablum served to an infant. We opt to keep
God close enough to call out to and get help from when we need
it, but not so close that we feel the sharpness of holiness.
We would rather God stay at the fringes of our life rather
than come face to face with the wildness of a God who loves
us so much that he will not let us go.
What
do you suppose would happen if we were cut in two by the sword
of peace, unfastened from the sugary peace we think we want?
What do you suppose would happen if instead of finding ourselves,
we lost ourselves in God? Well, I think three things would
happen.
First,
we would wake up to life, not a facsimile of life. Most of
us go through our days and nights without even noticing the
heat and beat life offers. We go to work, play with our kids,
pay our bills, go to church, watch TV, surf the net, prowl
around the shopping mall, stress over our relationships, our
inner imbalances, our lack of passion. We talk about current
events, the newest diet or book review, visit with our friends,
do what we can to help those who are in need and try to fit
in a prayer or two. Then, in our quiet, more reflective moments,
we wonder where the days and years have gone.
But,
if we would lose ourselves in God, suddenly we would feel the
pulsing energy that infuses every single act of life. We would
find ourselves in places of potential and promise, and we’d
find ourselves in places of rugged sadness and despair, but
instead of wanting to escape the rugged sadness and be steeped
only in promise and potential, we would be aware – awake – alive
to every moment no matter what it brought. We would be unfastened
from the need to search for a false peace in order to keep
chaos at bay. We would see the deep spiritual truth that sadness
is just another side of joy, disappointment just another side
of fulfillment, despair just another side of happiness, death
just another side of life, and we would want to experience
all of it equally. Life would be fully real.
Secondly,
we would begin to see our relationships through the eyes of
Jesus. The other seemingly harsh words of Jesus from today’s
Gospel reading are these: “I have come to set a man against
his father, and a daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law
against her mother-in-law… whoever loves father or mother
or son or daughter more than me, is not worthy of me.” We
so easily jump to the conclusion that Jesus must mean that
we will be separated from those we love if there is any hint
that we love them more than we love God. But, could it be that
Jesus is calling us to a new way of seeing, a new way of interacting,
a new way of understanding the relationships that are so crucial
to our lives? When we lose ourselves in God, we are unfastened
from unhealthy dependence on those we love, we are unfastened
from the greed and selfishness we can easily exhibit toward
others, we are unfastened from destructive patterns of anger
and resentment, we are unfastened from love that is really
not love at all.
When
we lose ourselves in God, we are no longer compelled to choose
less than the best in our relationships. We are freed to include
others, love others, extend welcome to others, and share with
others in a way that is un-self-conscious. Let me give you
an example.
Mother
Teresa of Calcutta could have felt human concern for the poor
and dying in Calcutta and could have dedicated her life to
caring for them, loving them through her own earthly power,
seeing them through her own human eyes. But, on her annual
retreat, she was grasped by God and had one of those face-to-face
encounters that unfastened her from her comfortable existence.
She was called to serve the poorest of the poor. When she saw
the first person on the streets covered with maggots, she felt
repulsion, but then, because she had lost herself in God, she
began to see the person through the eyes of Jesus. She herself
said, “There in that one I saw Jesus in his distressing
disguise. If I had not picked up that first one, I would not
have picked up 42,000 more.” Her life thereafter was
not marked by the sweet and calm peace she had known when she
had been teaching children of wealthy Indian families in a
lovely convent. The rest of her life was spent dwelling in
that peace that claims rather than calms.
Young
John who trimmed the flapping sail,
Homeless on Patmos died.
Peter, who hauled the teeming net,
Head down was crucified.
By William Alexander Percy, from The Hymnal 1982.
© 1985 by the Church Pension Fund
Third,
we would get the big picture. We’re so often lost in
the details. You know how this works. We’re hurt by someone
we love and we can’t seem to forgive. We’re passed
over for a promotion and can’t get over our anger. We’re
struggling and can’t get over our feeling that life isn’t
fair. We lose someone we love and can’t get over our
hurt. We’re stressed beyond our limits and can’t
get over our anxiety. We get sucked in to the daily issues
of our lives and get as buried in them as a mole tunneling
in dark earth. We hardly come up for air, much less to see
the light spreading across the entire horizon. The Sufi poet
Ghazali tells this story:
One
day Jesus saw a group of people by the road who were sad
and in obvious despair. He asked them what had caused their
sadness and they said, “The fear of hell has made
us like this.” Then he saw a second group of people
in equal despair and asked them what their problem was. “The
longing for Paradise has made us like this.” He then
found a third group who had clearly endured much suffering
but were still smiling. He asked them why they still had
joy in their hearts, and they replied, “The Spirit
of Truth itself has made us like this. We have seen Reality,
and have turned away from everything less than it.”
When
we are grasped by God and lose ourselves in the presence of
that God, we are unfastened from the thinking and living that
keeps us small in the midst of a life that is bigger than we
can even begin to imagine.
Perhaps
our greatest danger is falling prey to the marketers’ seductive
claims that they can provide us with the means to find ourselves. Because
when we follow their voices, looking around every corner for
the next method of discovering who we are, we risk missing
the one encounter that has the possibility of waking us up
to real life, helping us see those we love through the eyes
of Jesus, and crawling out of our darkened hole of smallness
to gaze upon a picture larger than we can imagine. When
once we have that encounter, our lives will never again be
the same.
The
peace of God, it is no peace,
But strife closed in the sod.
Yet let us pray for but one thing –
The marvelous peace of God.
By William Alexander Percy, from The Hymnal 1982.
© 1985 by the Church Pension Fund
Copyright ©2005
The Rev. Canon Reneé Miller
Preached at Calvary Episcopal Church, Memphis, TN
Gospel
Reading: Matthew 10:24-39
" A disciple is not above the teacher, nor a slave above the master; it
is enough for the disciple to be like the teacher, and the slave like the master.
If they have called the master of the house Beelzebul, how much more will they
malign those of his household! "So have no fear of them; for nothing is
covered up that will not be uncovered, and nothing secret that will not become
known. What I say to you in the dark, tell in the light; and what you hear whispered,
proclaim from the housetops. Do not
fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul; rather fear him who
can destroy both soul and body in hell. Are not two sparrows sold for a penny?
Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. And even
the hairs of your head are all counted. So do not be afraid; you are of more
value than many sparrows. "Everyone therefore who acknowledges me before
others, I also will acknowledge before my Father in heaven; but whoever denies
me before others, I also will deny before my Father in heaven. "Do not
think that I have come to bring peace
to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword. For I have come
to set a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law
against her mother-in-law; and one's foes will be members of one's own household.
Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever
loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever does not
take up the cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Those who find their life
will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.
NRSV (New Revised Standard Version)
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