[Propertalk] Proper 9 a 2017 - Part 2

Fri Jul 7 12:08:44 EDT 2017

Part 2 of Sunday's draft.

 You know the old argument when someone tries to turn aside an
invitation to come to church: “Oh, I’m too messed up. My life is a
shambles. No one would want someone like me, especially considering
all that I’ve done.”

	 The flip answer is that those who are the church are just like that
too. But that IS the truth. And that’s what Paul was getting at. It
doesn’t matter what you and I have done. Just because you and I have
a past, and, quite likely, a present that isn’t necessarily squeaky
clean, doesn’t mean that you and I don’t belong and aren’t loved
by Jesus. In fact, as we all know, from the Gospels particularly,
Jesus goes out of His way to ensure that we understand that we DO
belong.

	 One of the things that surfaces in our society from time to time is
the way that Disneyland and Disney World are run. It is said that one
has to be completely squeaky clean in order to start being considered
for employment there. Even those who wish to get in to the theme parks
as visitors are scrutinised carefully.

	 Now, I know that there have to be ways to keep such places as safe
as possible, especially when there are so many children there. But,
really? What does this say about life? That some people just don’t
deserve a break? That second chances are really rare? And third
chances? Forget it!!

	 Well, I’ve got good news and bad news, take it however you like.
The Church, the Body of Christ in the world, is NOT Disneyland.
There’s nothing here’s that’s artificial, nothing here that is
filled with saccharine to the point of occasional nausea. It’s not
that we don’t care. It‘s because Jesus, and we, by extension, DO
care about every single individual that chances are taken all the
time. Jesus stopped to talk to everyone, whoever she or he was. People
talked to Jesus all the time about sin. Curiously, though, it was
usually someone else’s sin which was discussed, and not her or his
own. 

	 Do you think, really, that Peter, Andrew, James and John didn’t
try to slip a slightly spoiled fish into someone’s grocery bag at
the market? Seriously, do you think that Matthew gave IRS refunds all
the time, and pointed out where someone could take another deduction?
And Paul, when he was being tarred and feathered and run out of town
on a rail, do you suppose he didn’t have some scathing grammatical
turns of phrase for those who were hounding him?

	 No! No! No! to each of these questions! The joy of the Gospel is
that Jesus never drew the line at whom He included, and whom He
assured had their tickets to heaven guaranteed. The joy of what Paul
taught was that just because we seem to be caught in a bind, time
after time; just because we seem to have the knack of being
deliberately obtuse, “thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our
Lord” we are being rescued from our willfulness, our selfishness,
our carelessness, our meanness, all the time, even when we don’t
seem to recognise it when we do it.

	 I’m not saying that there isn’t evil in the world. There is, and
there are those who’ve chosen to be ruled by evil. Neither Jesus,
nor Paul, nor anyone else is saying that those people get a free pass.
In fact, Jesus was careful to distinguish between those whose eyes,
ears, hearts and minds were wide open when they chose to jeopardise
the lives of others. Yet even they MAY respond to the Gospel’s
message of love.

	 But Paul wasn’t thinking of these at this point. Paul was simply
emphasising there is no one who is clean; there is no one who hasn’t
sinned in one way or another. Yet there is NO ONE who is NOT invited
to come to Jesus. And there is no one who’s not charged with the
responsibility of inviting everyone, absolutely everyone, to come with
us, to discover that life is infinitely more fulfilling when we accept
the challenge of walking, yoked to Jesus.

	 I know I’ve messed up, and, no doubt, will continue to do so,
especially when I forget about being yoked with Jesus and that that
means that I go where JESUS wants; speak to those with whom Jesus
would speak; listen to and pay attention to those to whom Jesus would;
not only where I want and am comfortable to go, and so on.

	 George Dewey Yancy is a philosopher who taught at Duquesne
University in Pittsburgh, where I studied for a year, and is now a
Professor at Emory University.

	 In a challenging article about examining our beliefs, our actions
and how we relate to the God of our foremothers and forefathers, he
questioned, “So, is your God dead? Have you buried God in the
majestic, ornamental tombs of your churches, synagogues and mosques?
Perhaps prosperity theology, boisterous, formalistic and mechanical
prayer rituals, and skillful oratory have hastened the need for a
eulogy.”

	 Is this how I “mess up”?

	 “Perhaps by remaining in your ‘holy’ places, you have
sacrificed looking in the face of your neighbor on the street. You
know the one: the one who smells “bad” because she hasn’t bathed
in days; the one who carries her home on her body; the one who begs.
Surely you’ve seen that “unholy” face. I’ve seen you suddenly
look away, making sure not to make eye contact with the “unclean.”
Perhaps you’re preoccupied with texting, consumed by a work or
family matter. Then again, perhaps it’s prayer time and you need to
face east, or perhaps you’re too focused on holy communion as you
make your way to church. Your refusal to stop, to linger, to look into
her eyes, has already done its damage. Your body has already left a
mark in its absence, in its fleeing the scene.”

	 Is this how you and I mess up? Is this what we have to admit,
publically, like Paul?

	 Yancy went on, “My hands are also dirty; I’m guilty of missing
the opportunity to recognize something of the divine in the face of
the Other on the street. I’m pretty sure I looked away when I caught
a glimpse of a homeless man approaching the other day. How different
is this from those who walked by the beaten and abandoned man in the
parable of the good Samaritan? I failed to see the homeless man as a
neighbor.

	 “When we turn away like this we behave as if our bodies had
boundaries, as if our skin truly separated us from the Other. But what
if, as I would argue, our bodies don’t have strict edges? What if we
could develop a new way of seeing the body that reveals that we are
always already touching, that we are inextricably linked to a larger
institutional and social body that binds us all?” 1

	  We ALL mess up, and it’s our responsibility to admit it and to
come to terms with it. Yet we – you and I, and everyone in the
universe – need also to admit that God loves us all anyway. God
longs that we, and everyone else, know this. And act on it. And act
like it.

	 But we don’t have to take on this task all by ourselves. Jesus
begs us to yoke up with Him. Jesus hopes that we’ll come together in
congregations and all sorts of other groups, whether religious or not,
and learn to work together, to share the common yoke of working to
make the Gospel real to the person sleeping in the fancy mansion as
well as on the door steps of businesses and buildings around Albany.

	 Our God is not dead. Perhaps our understanding of how we relate may
have lost some of its sharpness and polish. But our God is NOT dead.
Our God loves us, even through all the messes. 

	NOTE:

	[1]  _“__Is Your God Dead?”_ by George Yancy in _“THE STONE
[1]”_ JUNE 19, 2017
https://www.nytimes.com/2017/06/19/opinion/is-your-god-dead.html?smid=tw-share
[2]

Links:
------
[1] https://www.nytimes.com/column/the-stone
[2]
https://www.nytimes.com/2017/06/19/opinion/is-your-god-dead.html?smid=tw-share

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