Counterpoint (A Sermon for Ash Wednesday)

This, Not That

We live in a world filled with choices. We live in a world where we are continuously bombarded by directives to buy this (not that), eat this (not that), drink this (not that), drive this (not that), wear this (not that), say this (not that), and do this (not that). To be honest it is completely overwhelming. There are so many competing voices vying for our loyalty that most of us easily lose perspective of what’s really important, what really matters in our lives. But perhaps it really is easier to know which way to go if someone tells us exactly what path should be taken, if someone points us ahead by saying “Go this way. Do not go this way.” Maybe that’s the point. Those who are vying for our attention have figured that out. By presenting counterpoints, contrasts or opposites, they are assuming that they are leaving us with no choice but to follow down the road that they want us to go.

It appears that Jesus is doing the same thing in the Gospel passage that we read. The words “do not” appear in the translation from which we read five different times: “Do not do something so that you are noticed when giving offerings,” “Do not let others know what you are doing when you give them,” “Do not pray so that others notice you,” “Do not call attention to yourself when you fast,” and (probably the most challenging for us twenty-first century hearers) “Do not store up or hoard your treasures or your wealth here on earth.” Jesus presents these directives as counterpoints. It’s like saying, “you know the way the world tells you to do things; do not do things that way. There is a better way.”

Intellectually, I think we as Christian hearers know that. We know that there are many things about our contemporary worldly lives that are not exactly in line with the Gospel of Jesus Christ. But change is hard. And, after all, we’re only human, right?

A Season for Change

But today we begin the journey of change. As we move from the season of Epiphany and the celebration of God’s light manifest in the world, we now begin the time when we are called to shift our own perspective and our own vision in relation to that light. This is the beginning of a time in which we are called to redirect our lives and realign them with what they are supposed to be, a time to look at what it is that fills our lives, at those things that we do, and at those things that we treasure. Because as we go along, it is so incredibly easy for us to become swept up into whatever it is that makes up our lives and somehow convince ourselves that that is what life is supposed to look like. We like having choices. Being directed toward “this and not that” is difficult. But, my friends, this is the season of change.

Lent, which, literally, means “springtime” is a time of nurturing and preparation. It is the great Christian festival of new life. It is a greening and bringing back to life of our souls. Going back to the fourth century, Lent was traditionally associated with penitence, fasting, almsgiving, and prayer. Lent, like springtime, is a time of growth and renewal and, yes, change. Our forty days of Lent are reminiscent of the forty trying days that Jesus spent in the dry and secluded wilderness as he readied himself for his ministry. In the same mode, the early church used Lent as a time to prepare believers for baptism, to prepare them to begin their walk with Christ. It is a time to allow God’s spirit to point out to you those habits, attitudes, and behaviors that may be blocking you from a deeper walk with God.

Joan Chittister says that “Lent is not an event. It is not something that happens to us. It is at most a microcosm of what turns out to be a lifelong journey to the center of the self. The purpose of Lent is to confront us with ourselves in a way that’s conscious and purposeful, that enables us to deal with the rest of life well.” Truth be known, Ash Wednesday invites us into what is for some of us some fearsome territory where we might find healing and renewal from those things that get in the way of the real “us” that we are called to be. It is not a day where we begin to deprive ourselves of things we need or even things we want; it is the point at which we begin to look at things differently. We are called to look at things through the heart of Christ rather than through the eyes of the world.

So on this day, as we begin this journey, we are called to repentance, to a turning around, to change. Think of it, though, as a threshold that begins a journey into new life, a window to a new way of seeing, and a doorway to a new way of being. It is the day when we finally tell ourselves “not that, but this.”—this way of life to which Jesus calls us, a way of recreation and renewal. And it is the day when we finally admit that we cannot do it alone.

A Parody of Life

To the rest of the world, I suppose this practice of putting ashes on our foreheads is extremely odd. Who are we kidding? If we back away from the ritual of this day, most of US would probably think this practice is extremely odd. Because, once again, in the big scheme of what the world has laid out as normal, being Christian, following Christ, is probably just odd.

In fact, even in the first century setting in which these words were heard, what Jesus says is almost a parody of life. Think about it. These good, righteous people were told their whole life to act righteous, to show themselves holy, to set themselves apart. They were told that part of penitence was letting others see that they were penitent. It was who they were; it was part of their identity. But Jesus is telling them, “No, that’s not it. Righteousness has nothing to do with what you look like to others. It has nothing to do with proving yourself good or righteous. It simply has to do with quietly and inconspicuously turning toward God so that you are no longer seen. It has to do with changing your life so that when people look at you, they do not see what you are doing for God in your life; rather, they see the very image of Christ in you.

This passage is indeed a parody of life. It presents a counterpoint to what we humans have figured out life should be. And at its deepest meaning, it is not merely calling us to a different way of acting or a new way of doing things. It is instead a call to in essence die to oneself that we might become one with God.

And From the Ashes…

Hence, the ashes. Ashes have traditionally been a sign of repentance and mourning. They inherently represent the passing of something—a tree that once grew tall, a house destroyed by fire, a once-vibrant city now a victim of volcanic eruption. Historically, the ashes used on Ash Wednesday were burned palms of last year’s Palm Sunday. They carried the reminder of all those grandiose hopes and triumphal offerings that without the proper perspective can in just a short time turn easily turn to betrayal, persecution, and even death. Ashes represent what is left when all that we know, all that we have built, all that we hold dear is gone. It is a reminder that nothing really matters unless it is part of our returning to God.

And so, traditionally, the sign of the cross was made with ashes on the forehead. The traditional wording, “remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return,” evokes the story of our creation in the second chapter of Genesis: “and the Lord God formed humanity from the dust of the ground, and breathed into humanity’s nostrils the breath of life, and humanity became a living being.” Instead of this wording, we usually say the words, “repent, and believe the Gospel.” The meaning is similar: “Turn, turn back toward God and toward what you were created to be and believe in the good news that is Christ, that takes you forward to new life.”

That is the point. From the ashes comes new life. It is a mark of our returning to God, as the reading from Joel depicts. It is our beginning again. At the end of the service, we will sing a hymn that is one of my favorites. It is not in our hymnal that we use every week. It is something new—a new reminder of the new life that we are offered each and every day. It speaks of this returning, of our realization that we have not been who God created us to be. We have not remembered our baptism; we have not loved our neighbors; we have lost perspective. But from the ashes comes life, renewal, recreation, a new heart now right and one with God. It is this, not that, the true counterpoint to what this world offers.

A Harmonious Counterpoint

There’s another definition for what a counterpoint is, though. In music, a counterpoint is the relationship between two or more voices that are independent from each other in contour and rhythm and yet are harmonically interdependent. The focus, then, is not on the differences between the two but, rather on the way they fit together, the way they are transformed into something new. As I realized this, I suddenly began to look at this Scripture differently. Perhaps Jesus was not telling his hearers to do this and not that; perhaps instead he was calling us to a different way, a new perspective in how we pray, how we fast, how we give offerings, and, most importantly how we live. After all, Jesus was not calling us to leave this world and all of its worldly entrapments, but to rather be instruments of transformation. Jesus was reminding us, like the ashes do, that we are human.

But Pierre Teilhard de Chardin contended that “we are not human beings having a spiritual experience. We are spiritual beings having a human experience.” The truth is, we need to be reminded every once in awhile that we are indeed human. But it is not merely a reminder that we are only human and in need of God’s love and forgiveness; it is also a glorious reminder that, as humans, we are indeed made in the image of God. We are indeed created as spiritual beings whose home is with God.

I’ve used this before on Ash Wednesday, but it’s such a great reminder, I couldn’t resist. A rabbi once told his disciples, “Everyone must have two pockets, with a note in each pocket, so that he or she can reach into the one or the other, depending on their needs. When feeling high and mighty one should reach into the left pocket, and find the words: “Ani eifer v’afar; I am dust and ashes. But when feeling lowly and depressed, discouraged or without hope, one should reach into the right pocket, and, there, find the words: “Bishvili nivra ha’olam…For my sake was the world created.”

It is the perfect counterpoint, a harmonious symphony. We are dust and ashes, dark remnants of something that once was. But even within those ashes are the imprints of new life. That seems to be God’s pattern. From endings and death, comes beginnings and new life. But as Leo Tolstoy once remarked, “there are many reasons for the failure to comprehend Christ’s teachings…but the chief cause which has engendered all these misconceptions is this: that Christ’s teaching is considered to be such that it cannot be accepted, or even not accepted, without changing one’s life.” New life, new beginnings, are not replays. They are brand new symphonies.

As you leave today with the mark of both death and life on your forehead, remember that there is always something more. The Kingdom of God has already come and yet there is much for us to do before it becomes what it was fully created to be. Many ask the question, “How long do I need to keep these ashes on my forehead?” “When can I wash it off?” In fact, it has been pointed out to me that it is odd to read warnings about practicing our piety for all to see and then marking ourselves in this way for all to see. You know, I’m clear that it doesn’t matter at all. It has nothing to do with anyone else. It’s not for show. It is just a reminder to you only of who you are and to whom you should return. It is a reminder to “repent and believe the gospel”. It is a reminder that there is always more to life than we thought but at the same time, we have to let go of what we thought. Let these ashes be an ending and a beginning, darkness and light, benediction and invitation, a counterpoint to what was and a harmonious overture to what comes next. So, wash your face when your heart is ready. Just don’t forget what it is like to be dust into which God has breathed life.

Let us now begin our journey to the Cross and follow the One who leads us down a different way.

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

Extra-Ordinary Time

This is the LONGEST Epiphany Season. Ordinary Time seems to drone on and on and on.  Well, it is not your imagination.  The way the calendar falls, this is truly the longest Epiphany season we could ever have.  The cavern between the "high holy" seasons this year is indeed deep and wide, a veritable ocean of ordinary time.  The Lectionary has us reading the Sermon on the Mount.  You know, for the first time, I've noticed how much the word "you" is used in that discourse.  Oh, surely he means "you" as in those around him--the disciples, the religious elite, and the passers-by--you know, those to whom he was speaking.  Well, one thing about long seasons is that you have more time to ponder meaning.  And this pondering has become a bit uncomfortable.  Because if we truly enter the story the way we're called to do.  If the Holy Scriptures become the Word, the very essence of God, rather than merely a dusty narrative composed over a couple of thousand years, then, sadly and uncomfortably, we become "you".

Jesus is speaking to us or the Scriptures mean nothing; Jesus is wanting us to listen and to hear or he wouldn't have bothered saying it at all.  So in this ordinary time, we become the passersby, perhaps turn into the religious elite, and if all goes well, if we really bother to stop and listen and hear, then we, too, become the disciples.  You see, Jesus over and over again uses the ordinary, the every day, and the expected to frame what he wants to say.  He uses the rules that we societies have created and the roles that its members play.  And then he goes beyond where we are, calling us to a greater and greater existence, calling us to be better than even we could have imagined, calling us to live fully into that image of God in which we have been created.  And this time between times, this ordinary season, becomes something extra [ordinary].  Yes, this is the LONGEST Epiphany Season...call it the most Extraordinary Time ever.

So finally listen and hear the call to be extra-ordinary...

Shelli                                                                                 

It was easy to love God in all that was beautiful.  The lessons of deeper knowledge, though, instructed me to embrace God in all things. 

                                                                       (St. Francis of Assisi)

Grace and Peace,

Expectations

Lectionary Passage:  Matthew 5: 21-37 (Epiphany 6A)
    "You have heard that it was said to those of ancient times, ‘You shall not murder’; and ‘whoever murders shall be liable to judgment.’ But I say to you that if you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to judgment; and if you insult a brother or sister, you will be liable to the council; and if you say, ‘You fool,’ you will be liable to the hell of fire. So when you are offering your gift at the altar, if you remember that your brother or sister has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go; first be reconciled to your brother or sister, and then come and offer your gift. Come to terms quickly with your accuser while you are on the way to court with him, or your accuser may hand you over to the judge, and the judge to the guard, and you will be thrown into prison. Truly I tell you, you will never get out until you have paid the last penny.

     You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall not commit adultery.’ But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lust has already committed adultery with her in his heart. If your right eye causes you to sin, tear it out and throw it away; it is better for you to lose one of your members than for your whole body to be thrown into hell. And if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away; it is better for you to lose one of your members than for your whole body to go into hell. “It was also said, ‘Whoever divorces his wife, let him give her a certificate of divorce.’ But I say to you that anyone who divorces his wife, except on the ground of unchastity, causes her to commit adultery; and whoever marries a divorced woman commits adultery.
     “Again, you have heard that it was said to those of ancient times, ‘You shall not swear falsely, but carry out the vows you have made to the Lord.’ But I say to you, Do not swear at all, either by heaven, for it is the throne of God, or by the earth, for it is his footstool, or by Jerusalem, for it is the city of the great King. And do not swear by your head, for you cannot make one hair white or black. Let your word be ‘Yes, Yes’ or ‘No, No’; anything more than this comes from the evil one. (NRSV) 

And yet another week of reading the Sermon on the Mount…So are you getting the sense that we’re actually supposed to be listening to it? This is not an easy discourse full of pretty little stories interspersed with a few light-hearted jokes to keep our attention. You see, we really ARE supposed to do this. Jesus, like any good teacher, begins where we are. He acknowledges the usual view of what righteousness was (and perhaps is)—that a murderer will be judged; that those who leave offerings will be rewarded; that adulterers will be punished…the list goes on. But the whole point is that it’s not enough. Jesus doesn’t frame his words as prohibitions or a list of rules to be followed. That would, in fact, be far too simplistic. After all, why would we really need faith to follow a list of rules? It’s not about rules; it’s about expectations. And there IS something more that is expected of us who dare to realize that we are children of God. The rules are there. They will stay there. They help us order our society and give us boundaries for our lives. But we are expected to go beyond them, to be better than the society we have ordered and the boundaries we have drawn. And here, it is not just about behaviors; it also applies to attitudes and emotions. Indeed, it is about every aspect of our being. It’s a pretty radical way of looking at things. But, really, it’s Jesus. Did you expect anything less?

This week’s reading reminds us yet again that God came in Jesus Christ not to enforce the rules, but to reorder the world itself. God does not have a checklist or a lucky-number scorecard. Rather, God became flesh, dwelt among us, and showed us what it meant to live with an ever-present God in our midst. So, what is it that you expect from God? More than you can possibly imagine. And what is it that you expect from yourself? Expect more. Expectations are funny things. They may not always turn out the way we envisioned, but if you don’t expect something, nothing happens at all. So envision what life would look like if it really was the way Jesus depicted it. And who knows? You might be surprised.

Most people see what they want to, or at least what they expect to.

                                                                                             (Martha Grimes)

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

Just Sightseeing

Today’s Gospel Passage: John 20: 19-31

When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” ²⁰After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. ²¹Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” ²²When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit. ²³If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.” ²⁴But Thomas (who was called the Twin), one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. ²⁵So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord.” But he said to them, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.”

²⁶A week later his disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” ²⁷Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.” ²⁸Thomas answered him, “My Lord and my God!” ²⁹Jesus said to him, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” ³⁰Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. ³¹But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.

I love Thomas.  The truth is that I find a lot of my self in him.  First of all, I’m one of those that never seems to be at the right place at the right time.  I’m continually thinking, “why didn’t I think of that?”, “why didn’t I ask for that?”, or “why wasn’t I there for that"?”.  Thomas had missed the “first showing of Jesus”, perhaps because he was doing something wonderful but if he was like me, he was off being Martha somewhere!

And then he wanted proof.  I mean, don’t we all?  Perhaps we’re just afraid to ask for it.  But what if he didn’t care about proof?  What if he didn’t need to be certain?  What if he just needed to touch Jesus?  What if he just needed to know Jesus?

The truth is that “seeing” with our eyes is probably not all its cracked up to be.  Perhaps it even gets in the way.  And yet, most of us are really just “sightseers” as far as Jesus is concerned.  We want it to be right.  It’s even better if we can touch it and prove it and then go on with our lives.  But, either way, certainty is what we crave.

And yet, certainty is surely the downfall of our faith.  Why do we have to have proof?  Why do we have to be certain?  I’m thinking a little doubt never hurt anyone.  It makes you search and question and desire the Truth.  It even makes you want to touch the thing that you don’t understand.  And it will never allow you to just “go on with your lives”…in fact, no more sightseeing; you’ve really got to live there to understand.

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

 

The Rest

Genesis 2: 1-4a

Thus the heavens and the earth were finished, and all their multitude. And on the seventh day God finished the work that he had done, and he rested on the seventh day from all the work that he had done. So God blessed the seventh day and hallowed it, because on it God rested from all the work that he had done in creation.

These are the generations of the heavens and the earth when they were created.

God rested.  Those are the words that we tend to concentrate on in this Scripture, as if God, weary from all the creating just laid down and took a little nap.  The truth is, the point of it all is not that God rested; the point is the rest…

The seventh day is the climax of Creation.  It’s the point where it all comes together, where all of those scenes that have been   painstakingly shot in semi-chronological order but in different places and different lights and different hues are suddenly are spliced together into some semblance of order.  God does not just create rest; God creates it all.  God pieces it into order, into the way it should be and then hallows it, inviting reflection and thanksgiving…and eternity.  The heavens and the earth and all that they contain and all that they are do not rest from Creation but rather are all invited into the rest—the rest of Creation when it continues on.

The truth is that nothing really existed before the seventh day.  Oh sure, there were archetypes and rehearsals and things that carried some semblance of the final product.  But this…this is everything.  The Sabbath, the day of rest, the day of the rest…asks that we stop and look and continue on into eternity.

In this Eastertide, we celebrate the ultimate Sabbath, we celebrate the Holy Rest.  That third day gave us a glimpse of what God is doing.  And God continues to recreate all of Creation until everything has had a third day, until everything has seen the rest of the story.

Holy Shabbat…

Shelli

In The Image of God

Genesis 1: 24-31

And God said, “Let the earth bring forth living creatures of every kind: cattle and creeping things and wild animals of the earth of every kind.” And it was so. God made the wild animals of the earth of every kind, and the cattle of every kind, and everything that creeps upon the ground of every kind. And God saw that it was good. Then God said, “Let us make humankind in our image, according to our likeness; and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the birds of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the wild animals of the earth, and over every creeping thing that creeps upon the earth.” So God created humankind in his image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them. God blessed them, and God said to them, “Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth and subdue it; and have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the air and over every living thing that moves upon the earth.”

God said, “See, I have given you every plant yielding seed that is upon the face of all the earth, and every tree with seed in its fruit; you shall have them for food. And to every beast of the earth, and to every bird of the air, and to everything that creeps on the earth, everything that has the breath of life, I have given every green plant for food.” And it was so. God saw everything that he had made, and indeed, it was very good. And there was evening and there was morning, the sixth day.

What does it mean for humankind to be “made in God’s image”?  Most of us mainstreamers are probably more comfortable, whether we choose to admit it or not, with the idea of ourselves as that sinful creature who simply can’t do any better because our brother and sister Adam and Eve screwed it all up for the rest of us.  I mean, that’s easier, right?  It sort of gives us something toward which we can strive.  It means that if we’re really, really good and do it all right, then God will somehow get us out of this mess that we as humanity have gotten ourselves into.

But, then, how does being “made in God’s image” reconcile with that?  Keep in mind that an image is not the actual thing; it’s not necessarily even an ideal, unmistakable replica.  An image is a reflection, something that makes one think of the real thing, something that makes one feel as if the real thing is close.  Without a doubt, we are not God.  Not even on our best days.  Not even on Mother Teresa’s best days.  But we are made in God’s image.  We are made to reflect God to the world around us.  No longer can we dismiss ourselves as hopeless, sinful creatures.  There’s too much work to do!  What we need to do instead is get out the Windex!

You are God’s image.  That does not mean that you are perfect; it doesn’t even mean that you don’t sin or screw up, intentionally or unintentionally.  It just means that there’s more riding on it than God simply pulling you out of the game at the end.  After all, what sort of God are you reflecting right now?

Go and be God’s image in the world!

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

Sea Monsters & Flying Things

Genesis 1: 20-23

And God said, “Let the waters bring forth swarms of living creatures, and let birds fly above the earth across the dome of the sky.” So God created the great sea monsters and every living creature that moves, of every kind, with which the waters swarm, and every winged bird of every kind. And God saw that it was good. God blessed them, saying, “Be fruitful and multiply and fill the waters in the seas, and let birds multiply on the earth.” And there was evening and there was morning, the fifth day.

Creation is wider and more inclusive than we usually let it be.  If the Resurrection of Jesus is the “new creation”, then where are the sea monsters and the birds?  What happens to them?  The truth is that we probably sort of skip through these verses in the context of the Creation account.  And yet, God thought that those things that were not like us, that did not live the way we live or exist the way we exist were worthy of creating even before us.  What does that say?

I think it reminds us the same thing that Jesus did:  The world was not made in our image.  Creation is not limited to the way we see or the way we think or the way we live.  God is bigger than we can possibly imagine.  God reaches beyond where we go.

The lesson here is simple:  Christ died for you…and him, and her, and the one that you got “pissed off” (sorry, it said it better!) at yesterday, and the one that you don’t understand, and the one that scares you, and the one that doesn’t live the way you do or think the way you do or believe the way you do or sleep with who you think they should or live where you do.  In fact, Christ died for the sea monsters and the flying things, those things that are not us and do not exist where we are.

Remember that on Holy Saturday, tradition tells us that Christ “descended into hell”, sweeping up all those things that are different, all those things that we do not understand, all those things that threaten or defy our being and Christ took them unto himself.  Now if Christ can do that with hell and sea monsters and flying things, why are we so high and mighty about who belongs “in” and who belongs “out”.  After all, that’s not what Jesus did.

Go and welcome them all in!  After all, THAT’S the answer to “What Would Jesus Do”, if you’re keeping track!

Grace and Peace,

Shelli