Rector's Sermon
13 February 2011

First Reading	Psalm	Epistle	Gospel
Deuteronomy 30:15–20	Psalm 119:1–8	1 Corinthians 3:1–9	Matthew 5:21–27

     Picture Jesus teaching on a cool, gently sloping hillside at the end of the day’s work, with people gradually surrounding him, some even spreading a cloth upon the dry meadow grass and eating their evening meal with their families.  Perhaps on a Sabbath afternoon, they not only came from the closest villages, but from the countryside all around the lake. 

       The Gospels do not claim that all those who came into contact with Jesus, went home and lived prosperous lives as merchants, trades people, farmers and fisher folk, happily ever after. But the Gospels do reveal that people’s hearts were stirred in wondering if Jesus wasn’t like one of the prophets of old as he taught:  Blessed are you who perceive an emptiness inside of you, who know your life is impoverished, who desire something different than being filled with what the prevailing world offers and who yearn for something better; because those who long for meaning and purpose, and search for something more than merely obtaining what their neighbor has, are in a position to imagine a fresh vision of a community sharing the abundant blessings of God. Blessed are you who are capable of mourning over the failure of the present age to inspire, grieving over a future that has no soul; because those who are willing to recognize the death of false promises in the present age, are able to accept and envision a new Jerusalem where there will be no scapegoats and there will be no outcasts. Blessed are those who recognize false promises and are receptive to new truth, who have the courage to redefine their aspirations and their goals as a response to the call of the living God, who face without bitterness or fear that life is not turning out as their old ideals had predicted, but nevertheless remain amazed at the wide embrace and grace of the Holy Spirit

       Jesus used many metaphors, and hyperboles, expressions of obvious exaggeration, in his teaching. Some of them are amusing, like the image of a camel straining to go through an eye of a needle, and some of them we strenuously object to when we initially hear them, and try to keep their meaning at arm’s length, scoffing that it is impossible for us. “Yes indeed, it is impossible for you as you are,” Jesus replies, “but not for God. The Gospel makes the impossible a reality.”

       In early times, one was baptized into the Christian community in an actual river, or in a pool and everyone who was baptized was pushed under the water until they were completely submerged. They were then lifted up into the air, soaking wet. Baptism was a sign that one died to the world and came up again reborn and rescued from the waters of one’s old way of life, into the fresh air of God’s grace. All Christians were reminded that they were resurrection people. They were called to trust in God’s power to raise up and breathe life into dry bones.  Their hopes were not limited to the hopes of the world or to the definition of things as they had received them from the dictators of the world’s power centers.

      In baptism, we, too, die to the political correctness of our culture, die to the systems that shackle souls and to the assumptions that sully our humanity. We are born again, and have become children of God’s new community called the church. To the outside world, baptized Christians are inevitably considered just a bit odd.

       I’ve been reading a book about the Amish and what the Amish way of life may have to teach our society. Tourists marvel at their horse and buggies, stare at their plain clothing, and smugly make fun of their old-fashioned metal tire tractors and wonder how confining, how rigid is their life. Why don’t they rebel from all their customs and why do they let their church rule their life? Of course the Amish don’t see it that way and marvel at our naiveté and wonder why anyone would tolerate living in our society.  They practice a forgiveness and a personal unselfishness that seem impossible to us. They do not participate in social security, or are allowed to have medical insurance, but their elderly and sick are cared for, for that is what a true community does. We pride ourselves in our individual freedom, and depend on government programs to feed the hungry, cloth the naked, shelter the homeless, and give limited care to the sick.  The Amish would observe, yes in your society everyone can do what they want, and there are no responsibilities and accountability to a local religious community, but why do you have so many hungry, homeless and ill clothed? Like many a devout Hasidic Jew, the Amish see the law as a gift for them in order for them to live life abundantly. Yes, their community does change and modify their way of life, but any change comes from a community decision for the welfare of the whole community. Our society has much to learn from the Amish. As I reflect on Jesus’ teaching of the past few weeks, I realize that as Peter Maurin once said, “Christianity is practical when Christians practice it.” There is much we too can learn and relearn from Jesus’ teaching.

       And I offer this to you in the name of the Living God, Amen.