20th Sunday After Pentecost, October 26, 2014

First Reading: Deuteronomy 34:1-12

Then Moses went up from the plains of Moab to Mount Nebo, to the top of Pisgah, which is opposite Jericho, and the Lord showed him the whole land: Gilead as far as Dan, all Naphtali, the land of Ephraim and Manasseh, all the land of Judah as far as the Western Sea, the Negeb, and the Plain—that is, the valley of Jericho, the city of palm trees—as far as Zoar. The Lord said to him, “This is the land of which I swore to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob, saying, ‘I will give it to your descendants’; I have let you see it with your eyes, but you shall not cross over there.” 

Then Moses, the servant of the Lord, died there in the land of Moab, at the Lord’s command. He was buried in a valley in the land of Moab, opposite Beth-peor, but no one knows his burial place to this day. Moses was one hundred twenty years old when he died; his sight was unimpaired and his vigor had not abated. The Israelites wept for Moses in the plains of Moab thirty days; then the period of mourning for Moses was ended.

Joshua son of Nun was full of the spirit of wisdom, because Moses had laid his hands on him; and the Israelites obeyed him, doing as the Lord had commanded Moses.

Never since has there arisen a prophet in Israel like Moses, whom the Lord knew face to face. He was unequaled for all the signs and wonders that the Lord sent him to perform in the land of Egypt, against Pharaoh and all his servants and his entire land, and for all the mighty deeds and all the terrifying displays of power that Moses performed in the sight of all Israel.

 

Reflections: I hope this reading troubles you. It certainly does me. Moses had accepted God’s commission to lead a multitude of Hebrew slaves in an escape from the most powerful country of the time. He had forged them into a people through their long journey to the holy mountain, where he received and delivered the Divine Law, and then shepherded them through forty-years of uncertainty and want in the wilderness as they sought the Promised Land.

This Moses, acknowledged in the text as “unequaled,” knew God “face to face,” yet died in the wilderness (not from illness, but from “the Lord’s command”), and was buried who knows where.

          What are we to make of this? Elsewhere we are told that Moses had struck the rock in anger; his punishment was not to be allowed enter the Promised Land (no, I can’t find the reference). Such a punishment seems disproportionate to me—especially in light of what King David did! But the explanation does tell us that Hebrew tradition was not particularly comfortable with his punishment, either.

          To be fair, the Hebrew Bible is not univocal. In addition to divine threats and punishment are texts like the Book of Job. If you remember, Job’s friends blame his suffering on some sin he has failed to acknowledge. But (ignoring the preface and afterward, which are later additions) we discover that Job’s suffering has nothing to do with sin. The whole point seems to be that he suffers dreadfully—and he doesn’t deserve it.

I remember one time when I was a little child, I complained to my dad about something that struck me as unfair. I still remember his bending down and looking me in the eyes with just about the worst news I could imagine: “Life,” he said, “isn’t fair.” The bible reels with this distressing fact, beginning with the casting out from the garden and ending with the crucifixion.

Rabbi Kushner’s book, When Bad Things Happen To Good People, deals with the problem head-on. So, in fact, does Christianity. We want an explanation; we want to a divine parent who behaves like an idealized human parent. But God isn’t an idealized human parent. God is God. And God loves us. And life sometimes life just defies all our efforts to make sense of it. But somehow St. Paul is able to say, “I consider the sufferings of the present time are not worth comparing with the glory about to be revealed to us” (Rom 8:18).

Let us pray to see as St. Paul did.

Psalm 90:1-6, 13-17

Lord, you have been our refuge * from one generation to another.

Before the mountains were brought forth, or the land and the earth were born, * from age to age you are God.

You turn us back to the dust and say, * "Go back, O child of earth."

For a thousand years in your sight are like yesterday when it is past * and like a watch in the night.

You sweep us away like a dream; * we fade away suddenly like the grass.

In the morning it is green and flourishes; * in the evening it is dried up and withered.

For we consume away in your displeasure; * We are afraid because of your wrathful indignation.

Our iniquities you have set before you, * and our secret sins in the light of your countenance.

When you are angry, all our days are gone; * we bring our years to an end like a sigh.

The span of our life is seventy years, perhaps in strength even eighty; * yet the sum of them is but labor and sorrow, for they pass away quickly and we are gone.

Who regards the power of your wrath? * Who rightly fears your indignation?

So teach us to number our days * that we may apply our hearts to wisdom.

Return, O LORD; how long will you tarry? * be gracious to your servants.

Satisfy us by your loving-kindness in the morning; * so shall we rejoice and be glad all the days of our life.

Make us glad by the measure of the days that you afflicted us * and the years in which we suffered adversity.

Show your servants your works * and your splendor to their children.

May the graciousness of the LORD our God be upon us; *

    prosper the work of our hands; prosper our handiwork.

Reflections: The lectionary omits a portion of the psalm, which I have included here in gray because the psalm as a whole evokes the questions raised by the first reading. Despite the fleeting and often brutal nature of life, the psalmist celebrates God—a God unbound by time and the limitations of creation, and yet a God who cares for us and chooses us: a God to whom we are of ultimate significance.

Epistle: 1 Thessalonians 2:1-8

You yourselves know, brothers and sisters, that our coming to you was not in vain, but though we had already suffered and been shamefully mistreated at Philippi, as you know, we had courage in our God to declare to you the gospel of God in spite of great opposition. For our appeal does not spring from deceit or impure motives or trickery, but just as we have been approved by God to be entrusted with the message of the gospel, even so we speak, not to please mortals, but to please God who tests our hearts. As you know and as God is our witness, we never came with words of flattery or with a pretext for greed; nor did we seek praise from mortals, whether from you or from others, though we might have made demands as apostles of Christ. But we were gentle among you, like a nurse tenderly caring for her own children. So deeply do we care for you that we are determined to share with you not only the gospel of God but also our own selves, because you have become very dear to us.

Reflections: Paul encourages the church of Thessalonica to trust him and to examine the motives of those newcomers who criticize the community. Paul, Sylvanus, and Timothy’s original mission to Thessalonica was not for their own sake, but to pour themselves out in love. Not so, he suggests, are the motives of those arrivals who are undermining the faith and confidence of the believers in Thessalonica. 

Matthew 22:34-46

When the Pharisees heard that he had silenced the Sadducees, they gathered together, and one of them, a lawyer, asked him a question to test him. “Teacher, which commandment in the law is the greatest?” He said to him, “‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.’ This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like it: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.”
      Now while the Pharisees were gathered together, Jesus asked them this question: “What do you think of the Messiah? Whose son is he?” They said to him, “The son of David.” He said to them, “How is it then that David by the Spirit calls him Lord, saying,

       ‘The Lord said to my Lord,
       “Sit at my right hand, until I put your enemies under your feet”’?

     If David thus calls him Lord, how can he be his son?” No one was able to give him an answer, nor from that day did anyone dare to ask him any more questions.

Reflections: Yet again, Jesus’ opponents gang up to test him. They obviously do not want to broaden their understanding, or to listen to a different point of view—and they certainly don’t admit that Jesus himself may be a source of illumination! To the contrary; they want to win. And of course they don’t have a snowball’s chance.

          In answering the Pharisee’s question, Jesus didn’t draw from set of laws, like the Ten Commandments, which are sitting right next to each other. Instead, as you may remember from your bible studies, Jesus singles out two laws from completely different places in the Hebrew Scriptures (Deut 6:5 and Lev 9:18). Think the two verses in Deuteronomy and Leviticus take some finding in your Bible? You should try to find them on a scroll. By drawing these succulent verses out of the entire Torah, Jesus’ reveals his deep acquaintance with scripture, as well as his rich understanding of the nature of God, of humanity, and of love.

Loving God with our whole being is only a beginning; love of God is consummated by love of neighbor as ourselves. While we may occasionally think it is easy to love God, it is certainly more of a challenge to love others. But these loves are not separate. Loving God is not our doing; it is itself a sign of grace. And it is this same love within us by which we truly love others. And surely divine love alone makes it possible for us to love ourselves.

To love God with all that we are, and to love others as ourselves is to discover ourselves in the mystery of the Trinity. It is to become who we are called to be. St. Augustine (354-430) summed it up nicely: “Love and do what you will.” This is our vocation.