[Propertalk] Proper 24 a 2017 - part 1

[Robert P Morrison]

Here's what I have, unedited, for this Sunday.
Happy weekending!
Bob

	THE EPISCOPAL CHURCH OF ST. ALBAN, ALBANY  THE TWENTIETH SUNDAY AFTER
PENTECOST

	EXODUS 33:12-33  PROPER 24 a

	1 THESSALONIANS 1:1-10  22nd OCTOBER, 2017

	MATTHEW 22:15-22     PSALM 99

	 An acquaintance wrote the other week, “My aunt told me once there
were only TWO real questions I’d have to answer: How can I help? And
what excuses do I have to not?” 1

	 That sounds about right. Except that I’d like to add a corollary,
or a tweak. There are only two or three questions you and I should
ASK: “How can I help? And what excuses do I have not to?”

	 Brother David Vryhof, whom I quoted last week, had another spot on
piece of spiritual advice a few weeks ago.

	 “The world is full of wonder. Each day packed with one marvelous
mystery after another. But often we miss them, racing around with lots
of very important things to do and preoccupied with anxiety and care.
We ourselves are mysteries so complex and intricate – works of
wonder, through and through.” 2

	 What I like particularly is the fact that Brother David reminds us
that we ourselves are “fearfully and wonderfully made”. It’s a
timely comment when the tendency is to put down those with whom we
disagree. Of course, if we can, as white, privileged, not exclusively
male members of society did historically, and continue to do; if we
can classify an individual, or a group, or a nation as not human, then
it becomes easier to ignore and to deprecate any other whom we may
choose. But Brother David reminds us, on the one hand, that every
human being is incredibly wonderful, and, on the other hand, no matter
what happens, we still persist in tarnishing our own humanity and the
humanity of others.

	 Perhaps this is why God and Moses go round and round in this
morning’s story. “I really like you, Moses. You’ve got a good
heart. You seem to think clearly. You try.” That was God.

	 Now if someone said that of us, we’d be elated. We’d assume we
were going to be best friends forever with that person. Nothing would
appear able to separate us. And nothing, really, could keep Moses and
God apart, even when Moses’ friends kept making a mess of things.
Yet there was something nagging in Moses’ mind. He kept trying to
put his finger on it. Then it came to him. Perhaps THIS is what caused
a bit of isolation between the people and God, and the people and
Moses. They couldn’t see God. They couldn’t reach out to touch
God. They weren’t even allowed a selfie of them and God in the
middle of the Red Sea, or in the dunes of the desert. They had to be
content with words; with words and memories – and we all know how
fragile memories can be. It seemed, perhaps, really hard to come up
with some personal experience of God.

	 Even Moses felt this, even Moses had his moments of questioning, if
not doubting. Somehow, though, he was able to get through the day
without making too many deadly mistakes, but he knew he DID make them.
After all, he was human, just like us.

	 WE are just the same. We, like Moses, have been called, called to
lead, to witness, to walk through dark and dangerous places and speak
to strange and sometimes challenging people, no matter how wonderfully
made. We’re called to struggle with making decisions. We’re called
to be healers of people and nations. We’re called to be
compassionate. Yet we fail, SO many times. Either out of nervousness,
or fear, or stubbornness, or – yet we HAVE to say it – out of
malice, we fail.

	 No matter how wonderfully made, failure is part of our system, and
this HAS to be admitted.

	 Moses seemed to be aware of his own shortcomings. In fact, at the
burning bush in the desert, he said as much to God. The point was,
however, that he was up-front about this with God and with himself.
Perhaps this is what you and I have to wrestle with so often. Even
when we admit to ourselves, very quietly, that we’re NOT completely
functional as human beings, we’re pretty reticent about opening our
mouths about this, certainly in public, and perhaps it’s this which
makes us unable or unwilling to see God. Maybe this is part of what
Paul described as if we see through an imperfect glass. Something
clouds our vision; something prevents us from coming out of the
closet, so what we DO see is not the full picture. Somehow, it’s
distorted – an optometrist’s delight. When Moses asks for a full
frontal view of God, he’s told that that would be completely
impossible for him to bear. And so for us.

	 How much simpler life would be if we could go on line to Amazon to
order a framed photo of God, something that we could all put up on our
front room wall. Even a Rubens, or a Caravaggio, possibly even a
Picasso in his wildest, most imaginative mood; even a representation
on canvas would work. But this is not to be. What God said to Moses,
what God says to us, is, “I will make my goodness pass before
you”, and with this we’ll have to be content. To see the fullness
of God’s glory would be so devastatingly wonderful and beautiful
that not only would our breath be stopped, but our eyes would be
seared and the optic nerves all the way to the brain would be fried.
If we thought we’d have problems looking at the recent solar eclipse
with our eyes, then multiply that by a trillion times a trillion and
you and I might begin to get the picture.

	 God’s glory is so focused on pure life and pure energy that it
would be SO damaging to us to see it – for now, anyway. Only after
we strive to pattern our lives fully on God’s self-revelation in
Jesus do we come to see who God is, what God is like.

	 So Moses couldn’t be granted this request. Nor can we, no matter
how frustrating, how much we long for it and think that it may help to
straighten out our attitudes and our behavior. Yet God doesn’t leave
Moses comfortless, nor are we left bereft. God says, “You shall see
my back.”


-------------- next part --------------
An HTML attachment was scrubbed...
URL: <http://stsams.org/pipermail/propertalk_stsams.org/attachments/20171020/214fe384/attachment.htm>