The Church of the Transfiguration, Towaco NJ
St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church, Lincoln Park NJ
September 25, 2011
Year A: Proper 21 – The Fifteenth Sunday after Pentecost
Exodus 17:1-7
Psalm 78:1-4, 12-16
Philippians 2:1-13
Matthew 21:23-32
In a Desert of Testing and Quarreling
For the past few Sundays we’ve been making our way through the great liberation story found in the Book of Exodus.
Throughout their exodus from Egypt the Israelites experienced the power of God in extraordinarily vivid ways. Two weeks ago we heard the story of God allowing them to escape from the mighty Egyptian army by parting the sea.
Last Sunday we heard the story of the Israelites hungry in the desert and beginning to wonder if this whole exodus thing was such a good idea and if Moses was in fact the leader they needed. In response to their need, God provides manna – the bread of heaven.
And today we pick up with the Israelites getting understandably nervous about the lack of water. They demand that Moses give them water to drink. Once again they wonder if this whole exodus thing was such a good idea and if Moses is in fact the man for the job.
Once again God comes through for them, providing water gushing from the rock.
For the Israelites, the desert was a place between the familiar, if difficult, past and an uncertain and frightening future. For the Israelites, the desert was a place of testing and quarreling.
Even after experiencing God’s love in the desert the Israelites asked one of the saddest and fundamental of all questions:
“Is the Lord among us or not?”
Well, in many ways we find ourselves today in a desert of testing and quarreling, don’t we?
I’m between jobs at the moment so I’ve been able to keep with current events even more than I usually do. But, you don’t need to pay close attention to know that we are in the desert of testing and quarreling.
Our economy just can’t seem to get going. We limp along month after month with anemic growth or no growth at all. Unemployment is a profound crisis – with millions of people giving up on finding a job anytime soon – or maybe ever. There are fears that our young people will become a lost generation – a generation never able to fulfill its potential and certainly unable to live lives as full and rich as their parents and grandparents.
Around the world, Greece is on the verge of default and Europe is at the edge of a banking crisis. The conflict between Israel and the Palestinians is entering a new and dangerous stage while we wonder what kind of autumn and winter will follow the Arab Spring.
And there are the things that don’t get much news coverage. There’s a staggering humanitarian crisis unfolding in the Horn of Africa with millions facing starvation. And, whatever happened to the people of Haiti after last year’s devastating earthquake? And, whatever happened to those leaking Japanese nuclear reactors and the people who lost their homes after the earthquake? For that matter, what all the people still suffering as result of Hurricane Irene, including many right here in this community.
Like the long-ago Israelites in the desert, we also lack faith in our leadership. Confidence in the president has eroded and I’m sure you’ve seen the ridiculously low poll numbers for Congress.
And that’s just what’s going on in our country and around the world. I’m sure many of us here this morning are facing our own personal challenges and fears.
Like the ancient Israelites, we are in a desert of testing and quarreling.
And like the Israelites, maybe we also ask one of the saddest and most fundamental questions of all:
“Is the Lord among us or not?”
No one knew more about times of testing and quarreling than St. Paul. Paul, you’ll remember, had been a Pharisee actively involved in persecuting the early followers of Jesus. Then he had an extraordinarily powerful encounter with the Resurrected Christ that set his life off in a totally unexpected and unprecedented direction.
Paul spent the rest of his life traveling around the Mediterranean region telling people the Good News of Jesus Christ and setting up little Christian congregations. Paul knew times of testing and quarreling. The people who actually knew Jesus during his earthly lifetime weren’t so sure about Paul – and weren’t sure that the Good News of Jesus is really for everyone.
Paul’s knew times of testing and quarreling. Travel was difficult and dangerous. Paul often competed against other traveling preachers who were more eloquent and better looking and who taught things that were easier for people to accept.
Paul knew times of testing and quarreling because no sooner would he leave a congregation then he’d hear that they were doing exactly what he had told them not to do and so he’d have to write letters full of reprimand and what he hoped were clear instructions.
Paul knew times of testing and quarreling. We know from his letters that he was often beaten and arrested. In fact, the letter we heard a piece of today – the letter to the Philippians – was written during one of the times Paul was in prison.
Paul knew times of testing and quarreling yet he kept going because of love. Throughout the ups and downs of Israel’s history God had shown God’s love through signs both big and small – during the Exodus God had shown God’s love in the parting of the Sea, in the manna from heaven and in the water gushing from the broken rock.
Now, Paul was overjoyed to tell everyone that God had shown God’s love in the most amazing way – in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus.
One of the places Paul shared this good news was Philippi, a city in Macedonia, in what would be today eastern Greece. Paul founded a Christian congregation there and it seems to have had a special place in his heart.
Paul writes to the Philippians because apparently there is some kind of division in this beloved congregation. Once again for Paul and the Philippians it’s a time of testing and quarreling.
But, rather than criticizing the Philippians, Paul writes them what’s essentially a love letter.
Paul reminds them of his own love and most especially he reminds them of the love that they – and we – see in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. It’s a special kind of love – the most rare of loves – a love that is so generous, so sacrificial, that it is, finally, self-emptying.
The love of Christ is the love that’s poured out in his teachings and the healings. It’s the love that’s poured out on the people hardest of all to love – on the tax collectors who cheated people out of their hard-earned money and the prostitutes, who blatantly violated the law.
The love of Christ is the love that was emptied out on the Cross. And the love of Christ is the love that was replenished three days later in the empty tomb.
In a desert of testing and quarreling Paul tried to imitate Jesus and to live a life of self-emptying love. Paul did that by allowing God to work and love in and through him.
Paul encouraged the Philippians to also live lives of love. He encouraged the Philippians to allow God to work and love in and through them. As Paul writes, “Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus.”
I don’t know you, so I don’t know what’s going on in your lives or in the life of this church. But, I do know that as a people we are in a desert – we are in the place between the familiar, if difficult, past and an uncertain and frightening future. We are in a desert of testing and quarreling.
The question is: how do we respond?
Maybe we grumble and complain like the Israelites in the desert, maybe even asking the saddest and most fundamental question of them all,
“Is the Lord among us or not?”
Or, maybe, we remember that we’ve seen God’s self-emptying love most clearly in Jesus. Maybe we remember that we’ve seen God’s self-emptying love in Paul. Maybe we remember that we’ve seen God’s self-emptying love in special people in our own lives.
Remembering all the self-emptying love that we’ve seen, maybe we open ourselves up to God, letting the same mind be in us as was in Jesus.
In a desert of testing and quarreling, maybe we open ourselves up to God, emptying out our lives in love.
Amen.
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Friday, September 16, 2011
Agape
The Wedding of Jeremiah and Lori Shaw
Spray Beach Chapel, Long Beach Island
September 16, 2011
1 John 4:7-16
John 15:9-12
Agape
Today’s first reading was taken from the First Letter of John. It was written pretty late by New Testament standards – sometime near the end of the First Century. It’s a passage that’s often read at weddings, so for at least some of us the language is familiar. And like everything else that’s grown familiar there’s a danger that we no longer see or hear what it means – what it’s really about.
“God is love.” That sounds almost trite. We might shrug and ask, “What else is new?”
The First Letter of John was written for a Christian community broken by division. We don’t really know what caused the division, but it’s no surprise. You may have noticed that heated arguments and bitter separations are pretty common among religious people…
The author of First John realizes that these followers of Jesus have missed the whole point.
The whole point is love.
In this passage, written originally in Greek, the author of First John summarizes how for Christians the whole point is love. And he’s not the first follower of Jesus to realize that the whole point is love.
Half a century earlier St. Paul wrote about love in a letter to the Corinthians – another passage that’s often read at weddings.
In that letter Paul writes, “and now faith, hope and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love.”
Both the author of First John and St. Paul agree: the whole point is love.
Now, of course people in Greece and elsewhere in the ancient world knew about love before Christians came along in the middle of the First Century.
In fact, the Greeks had three different words for love.
There was eros, which generally referred to physical love.
And there was philia, the affection among family and friends.
And then there was a third kind of love – a kind of love that almost never appears in Greek writing before the New Testament. This third type of love is agape – selfless love.
For people in the ancient world, agape - selfless love - was almost unheard of. Both eros and philia offered pretty obvious benefits – physical pleasure and the security of having people around who would watch your back.
But, people wondered what’s the benefit of agape? What’s the benefit of selfless love?
One modern writer has described agape this way, “It is utterly impractical and makes no sense, but it is real. It comes from God.”
Not only does agape come from God, but, as the author of First John realized and proclaimed, God is love – God is agape.
God reveals God’s selfless love in creation – in this dazzling universe, this beautiful planet, and in special places like this island.
For us Christians God reveals God’s selfless love most clearly in Jesus. In the selfless love of Jesus, God says, this is who I really am. And in the selfless love of Jesus, God says to us, this is who you really are.
It turns out that we are made for agape – we are made for selfless love.
Of course, we often forget - or try to forget - that we are made for selfless love and instead look for other, less loving ways to find fulfillment – and fail every time.
Fortunately, every once in a while we get a wonderful reminder that we are made for agape – we are made for selfless love.
And so here we are today. Here we are today witnessing the love of Lori and Jerry - this agape story that is also a classic Hudson County love story that began when their paths crossed one evening in a Hoboken bar.
In talking – through the modern miracle of skype - with Lori and Jerry to prepare for today it was clear to me (even through a fuzzy computer connection) that their hearts are wide open to each other. From nearly the start of their relationship they shared the hurts that come from being on earth for a few decades. From nearly the start they shared the fears about what the future might bring. And from nearly the start they shared the hopes of what a life together could be.
Now, today in this ceremony they are formalizing the gift of selfless love – the gift of agape – the gift that they have already given to each other.
You and I are here as witnesses. We’re here to pray. We’re here to celebrate. We’re here to promise our support whenever times get tough.
And, if we keep our eyes and our hearts open we’re also here to glimpse the agape of God in the love shared by Lori and Jerry. We are here to glimpse in the love shared by these two wonderful people the love that is patient and kind, the love that bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
We’re here to glimpse in Lori and Jerry’s love the selfless love of God – the love that never ends.
Amen.
Spray Beach Chapel, Long Beach Island
September 16, 2011
1 John 4:7-16
John 15:9-12
Agape
Today’s first reading was taken from the First Letter of John. It was written pretty late by New Testament standards – sometime near the end of the First Century. It’s a passage that’s often read at weddings, so for at least some of us the language is familiar. And like everything else that’s grown familiar there’s a danger that we no longer see or hear what it means – what it’s really about.
“God is love.” That sounds almost trite. We might shrug and ask, “What else is new?”
The First Letter of John was written for a Christian community broken by division. We don’t really know what caused the division, but it’s no surprise. You may have noticed that heated arguments and bitter separations are pretty common among religious people…
The author of First John realizes that these followers of Jesus have missed the whole point.
The whole point is love.
In this passage, written originally in Greek, the author of First John summarizes how for Christians the whole point is love. And he’s not the first follower of Jesus to realize that the whole point is love.
Half a century earlier St. Paul wrote about love in a letter to the Corinthians – another passage that’s often read at weddings.
In that letter Paul writes, “and now faith, hope and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love.”
Both the author of First John and St. Paul agree: the whole point is love.
Now, of course people in Greece and elsewhere in the ancient world knew about love before Christians came along in the middle of the First Century.
In fact, the Greeks had three different words for love.
There was eros, which generally referred to physical love.
And there was philia, the affection among family and friends.
And then there was a third kind of love – a kind of love that almost never appears in Greek writing before the New Testament. This third type of love is agape – selfless love.
For people in the ancient world, agape - selfless love - was almost unheard of. Both eros and philia offered pretty obvious benefits – physical pleasure and the security of having people around who would watch your back.
But, people wondered what’s the benefit of agape? What’s the benefit of selfless love?
One modern writer has described agape this way, “It is utterly impractical and makes no sense, but it is real. It comes from God.”
Not only does agape come from God, but, as the author of First John realized and proclaimed, God is love – God is agape.
God reveals God’s selfless love in creation – in this dazzling universe, this beautiful planet, and in special places like this island.
For us Christians God reveals God’s selfless love most clearly in Jesus. In the selfless love of Jesus, God says, this is who I really am. And in the selfless love of Jesus, God says to us, this is who you really are.
It turns out that we are made for agape – we are made for selfless love.
Of course, we often forget - or try to forget - that we are made for selfless love and instead look for other, less loving ways to find fulfillment – and fail every time.
Fortunately, every once in a while we get a wonderful reminder that we are made for agape – we are made for selfless love.
And so here we are today. Here we are today witnessing the love of Lori and Jerry - this agape story that is also a classic Hudson County love story that began when their paths crossed one evening in a Hoboken bar.
In talking – through the modern miracle of skype - with Lori and Jerry to prepare for today it was clear to me (even through a fuzzy computer connection) that their hearts are wide open to each other. From nearly the start of their relationship they shared the hurts that come from being on earth for a few decades. From nearly the start they shared the fears about what the future might bring. And from nearly the start they shared the hopes of what a life together could be.
Now, today in this ceremony they are formalizing the gift of selfless love – the gift of agape – the gift that they have already given to each other.
You and I are here as witnesses. We’re here to pray. We’re here to celebrate. We’re here to promise our support whenever times get tough.
And, if we keep our eyes and our hearts open we’re also here to glimpse the agape of God in the love shared by Lori and Jerry. We are here to glimpse in the love shared by these two wonderful people the love that is patient and kind, the love that bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
We’re here to glimpse in Lori and Jerry’s love the selfless love of God – the love that never ends.
Amen.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Evolution
St. Agnes’ Episcopal Church, Little Falls NJ
September 11, 2011
Year A: Proper 19 – The 13th Sunday after Pentecost
Exodus 14:19-31
Psalm 114
Romans 14:1-12
Matthew 18:21-35
Evolution
Ten years ago I was a history teacher at St. Peter’s Prep in Jersey City, just beginning to explore what I thought might be a call to be a priest.
At Prep, my classroom was on the top floor with large windows that offered a spectacular view of the Lower Manhattan skyline, just across the Hudson River.
Ten years ago today, as that horrific morning unfolded I felt fear like I had never felt before – fear for myself and fear for my students sitting at their desks, stunned and confused. While some teachers continued to conduct their classes in an effort to keep some semblance of normalcy, I decided to turn on the radio so my students and I could listen to the history that was being scorched into our lives just across the Hudson and at the Pentagon and in a Pennsylvania field.
Later that day, after school had been dismissed, a friend and I walked, trying to get as close to the river as we could. From my classroom windows I had seen the towers fall, yet as I turned the corner onto Montgomery Street somehow I imagined that the towers would still be standing – burned out husks maybe – but still standing.
Getting my first good look at the smoldering and brutalized skyline I felt absence – the absence of the towers and the absence of the thousands of people who just a few hours earlier had been going about their business on a beautiful late summer morning.
Later that day, I mourned the absence of seemingly ordinary World Trade Center places that I would never see again: the PATH Station, the newsstands, the Borders Book Store, the Krispy Kreme donut shop. I remembered when I was a kid seeing workers laying the bricks in the floor of the mall that was under the towers. Now that pavement and so many other familiar sights were all gone.
And on that terrible day I mourned what felt like the absence of God.
Like me, lots of people felt God’s seeming absence that morning.
But, not everyone.
Certainly the people responsible for these evil acts mistakenly felt that God was on their side. For them, the proof of God’s presence and support was in their successful strikes at symbols of American power and wealth.
And there were some in our own country who saw the attacks as signs of God’s punishing hand or as a lifting of God’s protection.
But, as the days went on, others of us felt what I’d say was a more authentic sense of God’s presence.
We felt God’s presence in the excruciatingly beautiful phone messages left by doomed men and women trapped in the burning towers to those they loved.
We felt God’s presence in the stories of heroism – the story of two men carrying a handicapped woman down the 68 flights of stairs in the North Tower, further risking their lives in an act of compassion – and the story of the firefighters bravely marching up the stairs through intense heat and poisonous smoke, overcoming their fears through a profound sense of duty.
We felt God’s presence in the story of the passengers of United Flight 93 who gave their lives to prevent even greater tragedies on that terrible day.
We felt God’s presence in the short “Portraits of Grief” the New York Times published for each 9/11 victim – the stories of dads who loved coaching their kids’ little league teams, the immigrants who were washing dishes in a humble start to the American dream, the recent college graduates beginning their first real jobs, all those firefighters and cops from the outer boroughs, and on and on.
Ten years ago we were terrified and brokenhearted and furious – and I know those feelings are still raw in us.
It’s been a time when a lot of us have turned to God, looked for God, raged at God, pleaded with God, bargained with God, or just wondered about God.
For some of us God has seemed achingly absent. For some of us God has felt powerfully present. And for most of us, I think, somehow God has felt both absent and present.
Which raises the basic but essential question: Who exactly is this God who can seem both achingly absent and powerfully present?
Reflecting on who God is has been on my mind more than usual because I just finished reading a provocative book that came out a couple of years ago called The Evolution of God, by Robert Wright, who is skeptical but respectful of religion. In his book, he traces how our perception of God has evolved in fits and starts over thousands of years.
Wright makes the point that the only hope for the world is if our perception of God continues to evolve.
Today’s lessons illustrate beautifully how our perception of God has evolved. Today’s lessons also challenge us to take the next evolutionary step in our perception of God.
From Exodus we heard the familiar and yet still powerful story of the parting of the Red Sea. Israel’s God manipulates nature so that his people might escape from the Egyptians who were in hot pursuit.
It’s a great story of God’s liberating power – a story that still inspires people yearning for freedom. It’s also a story that’s told entirely from Israel’s perspective – reflecting Israel’s perception that their national god was acting to protect and liberate them.
But, our perception of God has evolved from a national god to a loving God of all. Our perception of God has evolved to the point that today we wonder about all those drowned Egyptian soldiers. Our perception of God has evolved so we might recognize that while God could rejoice in Israel’s liberation, at the same time God’s heart could also break for the dead Egyptian soldiers and for the families and friends who would soon be pained by grief.
Our perception of God has evolved from a national god to a loving God of all.
The greatest evolutionary leap in our perception of God is the life, death and resurrection of Jesus. In Jesus, we see most clearly what God is really like.
Over the past weeks we’ve been making our way through the Gospel of Matthew. Out of the four gospels Matthew is often considered the most Jewish and it is certainly the gospel most concerned with life in the Christian community, life in the church.
Last week, you may remember we heard Matthew’s account of Jesus telling the disciples what to do if someone seems to be in danger of falling away from the community or if someone actually does break with the community.
Essentially, Jesus tells the disciples that no one is to be excluded. We Christians are meant to go to bend over backwards to hold the community together.
Peter, maybe thinking this is crazy, asks for a clarification. Just to be clear, Peter asks how often he should forgive a church member who sins against him. Seven times?
Now, seven was a special number meaning perfection or completeness but just so there’s no confusion Jesus goes totally overboard and says, “Not seven times, but I tell you, seventy-seven times.”
Yes, we are to hold people accountable for their actions. Yes, we are to strive for justice. And, yes, we are to forgive and forgive and forgive.
In its original context the gospel message of infinite forgiveness is clearly meant for life within the church.
And, let’s be honest, that’s hard enough. Forgiveness isn’t so easy in the church where too often relationships get broken and too often we hold on to our grudges for dear life.
But, what if the next evolutionary step in our perception of God is the hardest step of all?
What if we perceive that God is calling us to break the cycle of violence and revenge once and for all?
What if we perceive that the loving God of all is calling us to extend infinite forgiveness out into all the world?
Anne Lamott once wrote, “Forgiveness is giving up all hope of having had a better past.”
Today of all days we remember that we’ve had a terrible past and there’s nothing we can do to change that.
The only hope for a better future is taking the next evolutionary step in our perception of the loving God of all, who offers infinite forgiveness to all.
The next evolutionary step in our perception of God won’t happen on the battlefield or in the chambers of Congress. The next evolutionary step in our perception of God won’t happen on cable news channels or out on the presidential campaign trail.
The next evolutionary step in our perception of God will be when we hold people accountable for their actions, strive for justice, and, most of all, are truly willing to forgive seventy-seven times – to forgive and forgive and forgive.
The next evolutionary step in our perception of God will be when we break the cycle of violence and revenge. The next evolutionary step in our perception of God will be when we give up all hope of having had a better past and dedicate ourselves to building the kingdom of God here on earth – the kingdom where all of God’s people – all of us - will finally live in peace.
Amen.
September 11, 2011
Year A: Proper 19 – The 13th Sunday after Pentecost
Exodus 14:19-31
Psalm 114
Romans 14:1-12
Matthew 18:21-35
Evolution
Ten years ago I was a history teacher at St. Peter’s Prep in Jersey City, just beginning to explore what I thought might be a call to be a priest.
At Prep, my classroom was on the top floor with large windows that offered a spectacular view of the Lower Manhattan skyline, just across the Hudson River.
Ten years ago today, as that horrific morning unfolded I felt fear like I had never felt before – fear for myself and fear for my students sitting at their desks, stunned and confused. While some teachers continued to conduct their classes in an effort to keep some semblance of normalcy, I decided to turn on the radio so my students and I could listen to the history that was being scorched into our lives just across the Hudson and at the Pentagon and in a Pennsylvania field.
Later that day, after school had been dismissed, a friend and I walked, trying to get as close to the river as we could. From my classroom windows I had seen the towers fall, yet as I turned the corner onto Montgomery Street somehow I imagined that the towers would still be standing – burned out husks maybe – but still standing.
Getting my first good look at the smoldering and brutalized skyline I felt absence – the absence of the towers and the absence of the thousands of people who just a few hours earlier had been going about their business on a beautiful late summer morning.
Later that day, I mourned the absence of seemingly ordinary World Trade Center places that I would never see again: the PATH Station, the newsstands, the Borders Book Store, the Krispy Kreme donut shop. I remembered when I was a kid seeing workers laying the bricks in the floor of the mall that was under the towers. Now that pavement and so many other familiar sights were all gone.
And on that terrible day I mourned what felt like the absence of God.
Like me, lots of people felt God’s seeming absence that morning.
But, not everyone.
Certainly the people responsible for these evil acts mistakenly felt that God was on their side. For them, the proof of God’s presence and support was in their successful strikes at symbols of American power and wealth.
And there were some in our own country who saw the attacks as signs of God’s punishing hand or as a lifting of God’s protection.
But, as the days went on, others of us felt what I’d say was a more authentic sense of God’s presence.
We felt God’s presence in the excruciatingly beautiful phone messages left by doomed men and women trapped in the burning towers to those they loved.
We felt God’s presence in the stories of heroism – the story of two men carrying a handicapped woman down the 68 flights of stairs in the North Tower, further risking their lives in an act of compassion – and the story of the firefighters bravely marching up the stairs through intense heat and poisonous smoke, overcoming their fears through a profound sense of duty.
We felt God’s presence in the story of the passengers of United Flight 93 who gave their lives to prevent even greater tragedies on that terrible day.
We felt God’s presence in the short “Portraits of Grief” the New York Times published for each 9/11 victim – the stories of dads who loved coaching their kids’ little league teams, the immigrants who were washing dishes in a humble start to the American dream, the recent college graduates beginning their first real jobs, all those firefighters and cops from the outer boroughs, and on and on.
Ten years ago we were terrified and brokenhearted and furious – and I know those feelings are still raw in us.
It’s been a time when a lot of us have turned to God, looked for God, raged at God, pleaded with God, bargained with God, or just wondered about God.
For some of us God has seemed achingly absent. For some of us God has felt powerfully present. And for most of us, I think, somehow God has felt both absent and present.
Which raises the basic but essential question: Who exactly is this God who can seem both achingly absent and powerfully present?
Reflecting on who God is has been on my mind more than usual because I just finished reading a provocative book that came out a couple of years ago called The Evolution of God, by Robert Wright, who is skeptical but respectful of religion. In his book, he traces how our perception of God has evolved in fits and starts over thousands of years.
Wright makes the point that the only hope for the world is if our perception of God continues to evolve.
Today’s lessons illustrate beautifully how our perception of God has evolved. Today’s lessons also challenge us to take the next evolutionary step in our perception of God.
From Exodus we heard the familiar and yet still powerful story of the parting of the Red Sea. Israel’s God manipulates nature so that his people might escape from the Egyptians who were in hot pursuit.
It’s a great story of God’s liberating power – a story that still inspires people yearning for freedom. It’s also a story that’s told entirely from Israel’s perspective – reflecting Israel’s perception that their national god was acting to protect and liberate them.
But, our perception of God has evolved from a national god to a loving God of all. Our perception of God has evolved to the point that today we wonder about all those drowned Egyptian soldiers. Our perception of God has evolved so we might recognize that while God could rejoice in Israel’s liberation, at the same time God’s heart could also break for the dead Egyptian soldiers and for the families and friends who would soon be pained by grief.
Our perception of God has evolved from a national god to a loving God of all.
The greatest evolutionary leap in our perception of God is the life, death and resurrection of Jesus. In Jesus, we see most clearly what God is really like.
Over the past weeks we’ve been making our way through the Gospel of Matthew. Out of the four gospels Matthew is often considered the most Jewish and it is certainly the gospel most concerned with life in the Christian community, life in the church.
Last week, you may remember we heard Matthew’s account of Jesus telling the disciples what to do if someone seems to be in danger of falling away from the community or if someone actually does break with the community.
Essentially, Jesus tells the disciples that no one is to be excluded. We Christians are meant to go to bend over backwards to hold the community together.
Peter, maybe thinking this is crazy, asks for a clarification. Just to be clear, Peter asks how often he should forgive a church member who sins against him. Seven times?
Now, seven was a special number meaning perfection or completeness but just so there’s no confusion Jesus goes totally overboard and says, “Not seven times, but I tell you, seventy-seven times.”
Yes, we are to hold people accountable for their actions. Yes, we are to strive for justice. And, yes, we are to forgive and forgive and forgive.
In its original context the gospel message of infinite forgiveness is clearly meant for life within the church.
And, let’s be honest, that’s hard enough. Forgiveness isn’t so easy in the church where too often relationships get broken and too often we hold on to our grudges for dear life.
But, what if the next evolutionary step in our perception of God is the hardest step of all?
What if we perceive that God is calling us to break the cycle of violence and revenge once and for all?
What if we perceive that the loving God of all is calling us to extend infinite forgiveness out into all the world?
Anne Lamott once wrote, “Forgiveness is giving up all hope of having had a better past.”
Today of all days we remember that we’ve had a terrible past and there’s nothing we can do to change that.
The only hope for a better future is taking the next evolutionary step in our perception of the loving God of all, who offers infinite forgiveness to all.
The next evolutionary step in our perception of God won’t happen on the battlefield or in the chambers of Congress. The next evolutionary step in our perception of God won’t happen on cable news channels or out on the presidential campaign trail.
The next evolutionary step in our perception of God will be when we hold people accountable for their actions, strive for justice, and, most of all, are truly willing to forgive seventy-seven times – to forgive and forgive and forgive.
The next evolutionary step in our perception of God will be when we break the cycle of violence and revenge. The next evolutionary step in our perception of God will be when we give up all hope of having had a better past and dedicate ourselves to building the kingdom of God here on earth – the kingdom where all of God’s people – all of us - will finally live in peace.
Amen.
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