Thursday, July 9, 2015

6th Sunday after Pentecost, July 5, 2015

Collect for the Day

O God, you have taught us to keep all your commandments by loving you and our neighbor: Grant us the grace of your Holy Spirit, that we may be devoted to you with our whole heart, and united to one another with pure affection; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Reflections: It’s really simple, what God asks of us. Maybe that’s what makes it so hard. One would think we would be able to keep all the commandments (there are only ten of them, after all; how hard can that be?). But when you get to thinking, what do they really mean? How we do honor our parents? What does it mean by “killing”?  How do we refrain from covetousness? Where does admiration cross the line into envy? Or care for others slide into gossip? Figuring out all the nuances of the commandments turns out to be a full time job—and we inevitably end up focused on ourselves: comparing our sins with those of others.
Fortunately, there is what St. Paul calls the “more excellent way.” Rather than rules, caveats, and mitigating circumstances, there is love. Of course, it isn’t ours, this love that guides our hearts and minds. Nor does it belong to God as some divine possession. It is very the presence of the Spirit of God. And precisely because of that, this “way” frees us from self-concern and orients us towards God and our neighbor. It frees us to be the person God calls us to be—not merely to think about it. With the collect above, let us pray to be filled with that love. 

First Lesson: Ezekiel 2:1-5

The Lord said to me: O mortal, stand up on your feet, and I will speak with you. And when he spoke to me, a spirit entered into me and set me on my feet; and I heard him speaking to me. He said to me, Mortal, I am sending you to the people of Israel, to a nation of rebels who have rebelled against me; they and their ancestors have transgressed against me to this very day. Their descendants are impudent and stubborn. I am sending you to them, and you shall say to them, "Thus says the Lord GOD." Whether they hear or refuse to hear (for they are a rebellious house), they shall know that there has been a prophet among them.

Reflections: My image of Hebrew prophets was one of bristly-bearded, sinewy old guys who were congenitally angry and confrontational. Then I actually read the prophets.
This passage tells me that Ezekiel didn’t fit my preconceptions; it sounds like he was probably like most of us. He might even have been a bit timid. It seems to me that it was the Spirit that gave him backbone and put him on his feet.
          Who does God choose to be a prophet? Apparently one need not be naturally combative or even innately self-confident. In fact, it would seem that personality isn’t what makes a prophet; it’s God.

Psalm 48 Magnus Dominus

Great is the LORD, and highly to be praised; * in the city of our God is his holy hill.
Beautiful and lofty, the joy of all the earth is the hill of Zion, * the very center of the world and the city of the great King.
God is in her citadels; * he is known to be her sure refuge.
Behold, the kings of the earth assembled * and marched forward together.
They looked and were astounded; * they retreated and fled in terror.
Trembling seized them there; * they writhed like a woman in childbirth,
        like ships of the sea when the east wind shatters them.
As we have heard, so have we seen, in the city of the LORD of hosts, in the city of our God; *
        God has established her for ever.
We have waited in silence on your loving-kindness, O God, * in the midst of your temple.
Your praise, like your Name, O God, reaches to the world's end; * your right hand is full of justice.
Let Mount Zion be glad and the cities of Judah rejoice, * because of your judgments.
Make the circuit of Zion; walk round about her; * count the number of her towers.
Consider well her bulwarks; examine her strongholds; * that you may tell those who come after.
This God is our God for ever and ever; * he shall be our guide for evermore.

Epistle: 2 Corinthians 12:2-10

I know a person in Christ who fourteen years ago was caught up to the third heaven—whether in the body or out of the body I do not know; God knows. And I know that such a person—whether in the body or out of the body I do not know; God knows—was caught up into Paradise and heard things that are not to be told, that no mortal is permitted to repeat. On behalf of such a one I will boast, but on my own behalf I will not boast, except of my weaknesses. But if I wish to boast, I will not be a fool, for I will be speaking the truth. But I refrain from it, so that no one may think better of me than what is seen in me or heard from me, even considering the exceptional character of the revelations.
Therefore, to keep me from being too elated, a thorn was given me in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to torment me, to keep me from being too elated. Three times I appealed to the Lord about this, that it would leave me, but he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness." So, I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me. Therefore I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities for the sake of Christ; for whenever I am weak, then I am strong.

Reflections: Some contemporary readers picture Paul as forceful, opinionated, and a bit manipulative. That is an easy, but superficial, assessment. A serious study of his letters shows him to be a brilliant and pioneering theologian who was deeply committed to Christ, who put his reputation and his life on the line for the gospel. This passage in II Corinthians gives us a rare glimpse of a perhaps less obvious facet of Paul’s personality—humility.
As you may remember, Paul was writing to address problems in the community he had founded at Corinth. We can infer from the text that the congregation was under pressure from other evangelists who arrived in Corinth some time after Paul had left. Apparently, these newcomers criticized Paul and extolled their own virtues.
Truth to tell, there were many things about Paul to pick on. We know from a close reading of his letters that he wasn’t good looking, wasn’t a good speaker, didn’t command automatic respect. Moreover, Paul was a late convert to Christ, having first been a persecutor of the early Christians. To top it all off, he worked at a craft rather than allowing the fledgling community to support him. In the eyes of his critics, if Paul had been a true evangelist, he would have expected to be paid (like they expected to be). Today, of course, we can recognize these traits as marks of Paul’s authenticity.
To defend the Corinthian flock from these wolves, Paul needed to demonstrate not only that he was an authentic evangelist, but that he was every bit the equal of his critics. So he speaks of something he mentions nowhere else in his letters.
Throughout his correspondence, Paul writes freely about his mission, his sufferings, even his past as a persecutor—and his subsequent conversion. But here he writes about his exalted spiritual experience, and he is clearly not at all comfortable about doing it. He speaks of it only under duress, and even then only in the third person. A careful reader, however, knows that Paul is referring to himself.
However we might otherwise judge Paul’s personality, this short reading shows a private and difficult moment. He relates the experience not to make himself look special, but to authenticate the gospel that he preaches. What motivates him? 

Gospel: Mark 6:1-13

Jesus left that place and came to his hometown, and his disciples followed him. On the sabbath he began to teach in the synagogue, and many who heard him were astounded. They said, "Where did this man get all this? What is this wisdom that has been given to him? What deeds of power are being done by his hands! Is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary and brother of James and Joses and Judas and Simon, and are not his sisters here with us?" And they took offense at him. Then Jesus said to them, "Prophets are not without honor, except in their hometown, and among their own kin, and in their own house." And he could do no deed of power there, except that he laid his hands on a few sick people and cured them. And he was amazed at their unbelief.
Then he went about among the villages teaching. He called the twelve and began to send them out two by two, and gave them authority over the unclean spirits. He ordered them to take nothing for their journey except a staff; no bread, no bag, no money in their belts; but to wear sandals and not to put on two tunics. He said to them, "Wherever you enter a house, stay there until you leave the place. If any place will not welcome you and they refuse to hear you, as you leave, shake off the dust that is on your feet as a testimony against them." So they went out and proclaimed that all should repent. They cast out many demons, and anointed with oil many who were sick and cured them.

Reflections: The prophet is not without honor—except among the people who know him best. Seems backward, doesn’t it? But I remember how it felt when a friend succeeded at something . . . and I was left in the dust. Of course, I was happy for her . . . but even so I couldn’t help feeling a twinge of envy. What if I had had the same opportunities, or . . . ?
When our own make good, their success either exalts us with them, or it highlights the fact that we haven’t. The people of Nazareth were no different. Jesus was just one of the carpenter’s boys, but he comes back home as someone special—a teacher with a following, drawing crowds and blocking traffic. Mister BigShot. What’s makes him so special? He’s only one of us.
          What makes a prophet? Can it be only an outsider, a particularly strong or courageous person, or someone with special credentials? It’s certainly easier to hear an uncomfortable message from an impressive stranger than from someone we know well. And it’s even harder if that person is irritating, a know-it-all, or a habitual nag.
          But what makes a prophet isn’t us. It’s God. When we are open to each other in love, the Spirit can stand us on our feet, and God can speak through our deeds (and sometimes even our words).
So if anyone can be God’s prophet, who is carrying that voice to us today? Someone on the internet? A member of the family? A guy in the street? Can we—dare we listen (just in case)?
Mother Karen closed her sermon with this prayer: “God give us the grace to see beyond what we think we know.” Amen.

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