Hearing Christ, Hearing Each Other

A Sermon On Matthew 22:34-46


Holy God, we thank you for your words of wisdom and love spoken in today’s Gospel; We ask that you would open our ears and our hearts as we seek to understand them better and embody them in our lives; in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit, Amen.

Too often we are guilty of hearing what we want to hear. 

There’s an episode of the TV show the Simpsons in which Marge, the wife of the family, is trying to tell her husband Homer something important, but he isn’t paying attention. Finally, in an exasperated tone, she says, “You're not listening! You're only hearing what you want to hear!” To which Homer replies, “Awh, thanks honey. I’d love an omelet right about now.”

Of course the reverse can also happen, in that we avoid hearing messages we’d rather not deal with. When I was a kid my parents became convinced that I had a hearing problem because when they’d call me from another room and I knew they wanted me to put my toys away or get ready to take a bath, I’d pretend not to hear them. This went on for so long that I eventually had to undergo a minor surgery to have ear tubes implanted. My hearing problem, however, remained. 

Of course this can happen on a broader scale… a few weeks ago, while watching the Daily Show, I saw a story about whether or not New Jersey Governor Chris Christie was going to run in the upcoming presidential race. Apparently, in spite having already denied this aspiration numerous times, the media was still buzzing with speculation about his possible candidacy. At one press conference, things got SO extreme that Gov. Christie directed reporters to a YouTube video featuring a montage of clips with him stating over-and-over again, “No! I have no intentions to run for the presidency.” Amazingly, when the media got a hold of this, pundit after pundit ran to the cameras to offer their interpretation, saying, “Well, it appears Gov. Christie has still left the door cracked open for a potential future run.”

Hearing what we want to hear becomes problematic when it blinds us to our own biases and we become unable to truly hear others. Examples can be seen in the recent debates about fiscal policy and how best to govern private industry. Ultimately, when we become impermeable to perspectives different than our own, these blind spots can impede our ability to work together cooperatively. 

Elements of similar denial and selective hearing can be found in today’s Gospel passage. Where our text picks up, we find Jesus facing the last of a series of questions put to him by Temple officials to try and trip him up and discredit him. Their efforts here are perfectly understandable, mind you, because, from their perspective, here’s this guy, who arrived at the Temple the day before, turned over tables, and then proceeded to heal people right there in the courtyard. The crowds responded by shouting “hosanna” and hailing Jesus as the “Son of David.” Seeing Jesus’ rising popularity, the Temple authorities knew they couldn’t simply throw him out, so they tried to convince the masses he was a heretic.

A legal expert steps forward. He asks Jesus, “Which commandment is the greatest?” To which Jesus responds, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind.” He then adds, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” His answer effectively shuts them down with what they would have viewed as a very orthodox, non-controversial reply.

But then, Jesus turns the tables on them. He puts them on the defensive, asking, "What do you think of the Messiah? Whose son is he?" Now being highly educated, Jesus’ interlocutors knew the proper response. They answered why, "The Son of David," almost implying a, “well, of course!” to which Jesus replies, "How is it then that David by the Spirit calls him Lord?” Now, understanding this retort can be tricky. Essentially, Jesus turns their logic against them and uses it to back them into a corner. He gets them to confess that the Messiah is the “Son of David”—a name Jesus has already been called repeatedly throughout Matthew. Jesus, then, uses this opportunity to suggest with unmistakable clarity that the Messiah is more than the mere political savior they’d been expecting, but actually the Son of God. In other words, Jesus takes their attempts to chip away at his credibility and uses them as a springboard for proclaiming his divinity!

The Pharisees responded with a deafening silence. In verse 46 it says, “No one was able to give him an answer, nor from that day did anyone dare to ask him any more questions.” Well then! Now surely this wasn’t because they all suddenly became convinced of Jesus’ Lordship—we all know how the story goes from here. And remember, this was Passover—floods of people from across the Judean countryside were pouring into the Temple and all of this was going down right before them. So… no. Their silence, here, betrays just how very trapped they were. In their heads, they knew they had been bested by Jesus’ logic, but outwardly they were unwilling to admit this. Doing so, would have meant acknowledging that some changes were going to have to be made!     

Much like how I played deaf as a child, the Pharisees, here, don’t want to acknowledge the truth Jesus has spoken. Doing so, would obligate them to listen to his message… a choice that would surely cost them. Doing so, would require them to try and make sense of Jesus’ table flipping antics or his placing of people’s needs over the law—not to mention the list of denouncements Jesus declares in the next chapter where he rails against the excesses of prestige and power that had been amassed by Temple officials.  

But like the Pharisees, we too sometimes fail to hear God for fear of having our assumptions challenged… and like them we also can be notoriously reluctant to make uncomfortable changes… Each of us have innate desires for things like love, security, and power; and the things linked to these drives seem to be most susceptible to our willful ignorance. When I read this, I can’t help but feel confronted by the same words Jesus puts to his challengers. Essentially, Jesus asks them… and each of us, “Who do you say that I am?” And like the Pharisees, embedded within our responses are corollary commitments we must strive to embody.

Switching gears for a moment, for the past month and a half, Susie and I have been leading a confirmation class, preparing several of St. Mark’s youth to be confirmed when the bishop visits next week. (I also know there are some adults preparing to be received or confirmed.) As Episcopalians, we are blessed to have vows within our Baptismal Covenant that brilliantly flesh out our best understanding of how a life oriented towards Christ is supposed to look—and these are the vows we will all be renewing.

I bring this up because the shape of these words could be construed as an outline for following Jesus’ commands that we love God with all our heart, soul, and mind and love our neighbor as ourselves. There are two important elements here I wish to highlight. First, as noted by one commentator I consulted, the word “love,” in this context, is better translated as “commitment.” Second, by linking these two aims together, those being the love of God and the love of neighbor, Christ communicates the necessarily communal character of this endeavor. As Methodist bishop William Willimon once noted, “Christianity is not a home correspondence course in salvation. This religion is anything but a private affair.” Read this way, Jesus implores us to commit our whole hearts, souls, and minds to God and to commit ourselves to the welfare of our creaturely neighbors, both human and, as we are becoming increasingly aware, non-human alike.

As a collective, then, we are called to measure ourselves against these standards issued by Christ, safeguarding ourselves against hearing only what we want to hear. By periodically recalling our Baptismal vows, we can re-focus our commitment to grow in God together and to listen for God’s voice together. As we come to recognize that Christ’s challenges are often made known in the needs of our neighbors and wrestle with whatever the prevailing issues of our time are, let us bind ourselves one to another and help guide each other towards holiness.

In preparation for next week’s service, I invite you to spend some time meditating on what this might mean for you, given your context and gifts. Ask yourself the question Christ puts to us, “Who do you say that I am?” Who do we say that Jesus is? And how is our answer, whatever it may be, reflected in our lives? Ask how we might better direct our energies towards others—not solely from a sense of Christian obligation—but because Christ seems to be telling us that our welfare, our relationship with God, and our devotion to one another are all bound up together. Perhaps it is here, in this never-ending, cascading dance of transactions, that we can find our ultimate hope.

Amen.

The Episcopal Church on the Environment

Reposted from -- The Episcopal Church:  Office of Public Affairs

Episcopal Church House of Bishops

Issues A Pastoral Teaching

[September 20, 2011] The Episcopal Church House of Bishops, meeting in Province IX, in Quito, Ecuador, issued the following Pastoral Teaching:

A Pastoral Teaching from the House of Bishops of The Episcopal Church

Quito, Ecuador

September 2011

We, your bishops, believe these words of Jeremiah describe these times and call us to repentance as we face the unfolding environmental crisis of the earth:

How long will the land mourn, and the grass of every field wither? For the wickedness of those who live in it the animals and the birds are swept away, and because people said, "He is blind to our ways." (Jeremiah 12:4)

The mounting urgency of our environmental crisis challenges us at this time to confess "our self-indulgent appetites and ways," "our waste and pollution of God's creation," and "our lack of concern for those who come after us" (Ash Wednesday Liturgy, Book of Common Prayer, p. 268). It also challenges us to amend our lives and to work for environmental justice and for more environmentally sustainable practices.

Christians cannot be indifferent to global warming, pollution, natural resource depletion, species extinctions, and habitat destruction, all of which threaten life on our planet. Because so many of these threats are driven by greed, we must also actively seek to create more compassionate and sustainable economies that support the well-being of all God's creation.

We are especially called to pay heed to the suffering of the earth. The Anglican Communion Environmental Network calls to mind the dire consequences our environment faces: "We know that . . . we are now demanding more than [the earth] is able to provide. Science confirms what we already know: our human footprint is changing the face of the earth and because we come from the earth, it is changing us too. We are engaged in the process of destroying our very being. If we cannot live in harmony with the earth, we will not live in harmony with one another."[i][i]

This is the appointed time for all God's children to work for the common goal of renewing the earth as a hospitable abode for the flourishing of all life. We are called to speak and act on behalf of God's good creation.

Looking back to the creation accounts in Genesis, we see God's creation was "very good," providing all that humans would need for abundant, peaceful life. In creating the world God's loving concern extended to the whole of it, not just to humans. And the scope of God's redemptive love in Christ is equally broad: the Word became incarnate in Christ not just for our sake, but for the salvation of the whole world. In the Book of Revelation we read that God will restore the goodness and completeness of creation in the "new Jerusalem." Within this new city, God renews and redeems the natural world rather than obliterating it. We now live in that time between God's creation of this good world and its final redemption: "The whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now; and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for . . . the redemption of our bodies" (Romans 8:22-3).

Affirming the biblical witness to God's abiding and all-encompassing love for creation, we recognize that we cannot separate ourselves as humans from the rest of the created order. The creation story itself presents the interdependence of all God's creatures in their wonderful diversity and fragility, and in their need of protection from dangers of many kinds. This is why the Church prays regularly for the peace of the whole world, for seasonable weather and an abundance of the fruits of the earth, for a just sharing of resources, and for the safety of all who suffer. This includes our partner creatures: animals, birds, and fish who are being killed or made sick by the long-term effects of deforestation, oil spills, and a host of other ways in which we intentionally and unintentionally destroy or poison their habitat.

One of the most dangerous and daunting challenges we face is global climate change. This is, at least in part, a direct result of our burning of fossil fuels. Such human activities could raise worldwide average temperatures by three to eleven degrees Fahrenheit in this century. Rising average temperatures are already wreaking environmental havoc, and, if unchecked, portend devastating consequences for every aspect of life on earth.

The Church has always had as one of its priorities a concern for the poor and the suffering. Therefore, we need not agree on the fundamental causes of human devastation of the environment, or on what standard of living will allow sustainable development, or on the roots of poverty in any particular culture, in order to work to minimize the impact of climate change. It is the poor and the disadvantaged who suffer most from callous environmental irresponsibility. Poverty is both a local and a global reality. A healthy economy depends absolutely on a healthy environment.

The wealthier nations whose industries have exploited the environment, and who are now calling for developing nations to reduce their impact on the environment, seem to have forgotten that those who consume most of the world's resources also have contributed the most pollution to the world's rivers and oceans, have stripped the world's forests of healing trees, have destroyed both numerous species and their habitats, and have added the most poison to the earth's atmosphere. We cannot avoid the conclusion that our irresponsible industrial production and consumption-driven economy lie at the heart of the current environmental crisis.

Privileged Christians in our present global context need to move from a culture of consumerism to a culture of conservation and sharing. The challenge is to examine one's own participation in ecologically destructive habits. Our churches must become places where we have honest debates about, and are encouraged to live into, more sustainable ways of living. God calls us to die to old ways of thinking and living and be raised to new life with renewed hearts and minds.

Although many issues divide us as people of faith, unprecedented ecumenical and interfaith cooperation is engaging the concern to protect our planet. And yet, efforts to stop environmental degradation must not be simply imposed from above. Those most affected must have a hand in shaping decisions. For example, we welcome efforts in the United States to involve Native American tribal leaders and to empower local community organizations to address environmental issues. Similar strategies need to be employed in myriad communities in various locales.

Our current environmental challenges call us to ongoing forms of repentance: we must turn ourselves around, and come to think, feel, and act in new ways. Ancient wisdom and spiritual disciplines from our faith offer deep resources to help address this environmental crisis. Time-honored practices of fasting, Sabbath-keeping, and Christ-centered mindfulness bear particular promise for our time.

Fasting disciplines and heals our wayward desires and appetites, calling us to balance our individual needs with God's will for the whole world. In fasting we recognize that human hungers require more than filling the belly. In God alone are our desires finally fulfilled. Commended in the Book of Common Prayer, fasting is grounded in the practices of Israel, taught by Jesus, and sustained in Christian tradition. The ecological crisis extends and deepens the significance of such fasting as a form of self-denial: those who consume more than their fair share must learn to exercise self-restraint so that the whole community of creation might be sustained.

Sabbath-keeping is rooted in the Book of Genesis, where the seventh day is the day in which God, humans, and the rest of creation are in right relationship. In our broken world, keeping the Sabbath is a way of remembering and anticipating that world for which God created us. Sabbath requires rest, that we might remember our rightful place as God's creatures in relationship with every other creature of God. Such rest implicitly requires humans to live lightly on the face of the earth, neither to expend energy nor to consume it, not to work for gain alone, but to savor the grace and givenness of creation.

The practice of Christ-centered mindfulness, that is, the habitual recollection of Christ, calls believers to a deepened awareness of the presence of God in their own lives, in other people, and in every aspect of the world around us. Such spiritual perception should make faithful people alert to the harmful effects of our lifestyles, attentive to our carbon footprint and to the dangers of overconsumption. It should make us profoundly aware of the gift of life and less prone to be ecologically irresponsible in our consumption and acquisition.

In assuming with new vigor our teaching office, we, your bishops, commit ourselves to a renewal of these spiritual practices in our own lives, and invite you to join us in this commitment for the good of our souls and the life of the world. Moreover, in order to honor the goodness and sacredness of God's creation, we, as brothers and sisters in Christ, commit ourselves and urge every Episcopalian:

n      To acknowledge the urgency of the planetary crisis in which we find ourselves, and to repent of any and all acts of greed, overconsumption, and waste that have contributed to it;

n      To lift up prayers in personal and public worship for environmental justice, for sustainable development, and for help in restoring right relations both among humankind and between humankind and the rest of creation;

n      To take steps in our individual lives, and in community, public policy, business, and other forms of corporate decision-making, to practice environmental stewardship and justice, including (1) a commitment to energy conservation and the use of clean, renewable sources of energy; and (2) efforts to reduce, reuse, and recycle, and whenever possible to buy products made from recycled materials;

n      To seek to understand and uproot the political, social, and economic causes of environmental destruction and abuse;[ii][ii]

n      To advocate for a "fair, ambitious, and binding" climate treaty, and to work toward climate justice through reducing our own carbon footprint and advocating for those most negatively affected by climate change.

May God give us the grace to heed the warnings of Jeremiah and to accept the gracious invitation of the incarnate Word to live, in, with, and through him, a life of grace for the whole world, that thereby all the earth may be restored and humanity filled with hope. Rejoicing in your works, O Lord, send us forth with your Spirit to renew the face of the earth, that the world may once again be filled with your good things: the trees watered abundantly, springs rushing between the hills in verdant valleys, all the earth made fruitful, your manifold creatures, birds, beasts, and humans, all quenching their thirst and receiving their nourishment from you once again in due season (Psalm 104).

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[i][i] From "The Hope We Share: A Vision for Copenhagen," a statement from the Anglican Communion Environmental Network in preparation for the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCC), December 2009.

[ii][ii] We are indebted to the Episcopal Bishops of New England for their earlier 2003 Pastoral Letter, "To Serve Christ in All Creation." Several of these "commitments" and other phrases herein are quotations or adaptations of their work.

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Curled Over or Outstretched and Climbing

Years ago, I came close to buying into one of our culture’s prevailing myths. Following 9-11, with the country still gripped by fear, many were taking protective measures to try and insure the survival of themselves and their loved ones. Some stocked up on canned foods and bought water purification kits, while others purchased guns and gasmasks. Here we were—a country of independent persons, individuals with rights, floating singularities with allegiance to nothing but our own survival—pitted against everyone else; and one another too.

I had already been gardening for some time then, but I remember planting an extra large garden, thinking it might be handy to have some food in case times got tough. Others were doing the same and they were making preparations to guard their caches with force if need be. It was thought that one might need to fend off neighbors who hadn’t prepared responsibly. At the time, I remember being troubled by this logic, but I lacked any alternative vision.  

While I intuitively sensed the wrongness of all this, I was skeptical of utopian ideas that everyone could just cooperate and thrive through collective efforts. My wrestling with these ideas, as well as a host of other existential questions, ultimately drew me back into the Church looking for answers. I found myself inspired by the generosity and compassion many Christians embodied. I saw them reaching out to people on the margins and serving the poor and something about this resonated with me in a way that the prevailing reactionary culture of fear couldn’t compete with.   

In an article entitled, “Gathering: Worship, Imagination, and Formation,” Philip Kenneson describes these values which distinguish Christians from the prevailing culture and how he views them as inextricably linked to our worship. He argues that both worship and the act of gathering together should be seen as central to Christian formation. Considering these ideals, we can begin to see what it is about the Christian meta-narrative that sets it apart from today’s mythos of abstracted independence and how those differences can serve to bring humanity into greater harmony.     

Kenneson traces the etymology of the word worship and defines it as “ascribing worth to.” This liberates it from solely religious usage. This is key because limiting worship to religious connotations detaches it from its economic, political, and social possibilities. Kenneson also reminds us that with every choice we make we are answering the question, “What do you value.” This truth forces us to recognize the ethical dimensions of how we live and the things we nurture with our time, energy and money.[1] The role of specifically Christian worship, then, in its liturgical or other religious forms, is to shape us as members of a group with a common telos, or shared vision for how things ought to be.[2] Scripture, hymns, prayer, sermons, and creeds are mediums of this shaping. Any outreach or service undertaken by Christians ought to flow naturally as an outgrowth of this worship.

Inherent to Christian worship is the gathering of God’s people. Kenneson avoids the word church, instead preferring its Greek transliteration ekklesia, to escape the modern institutionalized baggage the word has accrued.[3] He suggests that gathering teaches people about reality because, when gathered, we must rely upon one another to live and thrive.[4] Any successful further engagement of ethical substance hinges upon us understanding this point. By gathering, we can help one another realize the delusional nature of our claims to independence and become awakened to our interdependence. Only then can we see how our unique gifts can help others and receive likewise.

In laying out these differing mindsets, we can see how their central assumptions stand in opposition to one another. One falls prey to the myth of scarcity because it fails to understand how truly interconnected things are, while the other lifts up this connectedness as a sacred bond to be nurtured and cared for. The two visions are very different and one is definitively more hopeful. As Kenneson teaches us, worship takes place on many levels, thus we must be mindful of our decisions. Ultimately, the shape of our lives, be they curled over and defensive or outstretched and climbing, will conform to whichever vantage we choose.   

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[1] Kenneson, Philip. “Gathering: Worship, Imagination, and Formation,” Blackwell Companion to Christian Ethics, Second Edition, eds. Stanley Hauerwas and Samuel Wells. (Wiley-Blackwell Publishing, 2011). 56.

[2] Ibid, 61.

[3] Ibid, 61.

[4] Ibid, 57.