Sunday, September 27, 2015

Hands and Feet and Eyes and All


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I was chatting with a friend last night about this morning’s Gospel, sure I knew where the sermon was going to go, when he reminded me of his history of self-harm. He is now in recovery, it has been years since he last cut himself for stress relief, but today’s words from Jesus make me wonder about how we’ve misused scripture. It makes me wonder, in much the same way that I wonder how a person wrestling with anorexia might hear teachings about the importance of fasting as a spiritual practice. It’s only been two weeks since our community gathered here to talk about Heroin, and the importance of building support networks, of refusing to allow shame to cut us off from each other when we are hurting. But this morning Jesus seems to be telling us to go ahead and chop ourselves up for the sake of heaven. Any time the Bible talks of how we treat ‘the body,’ I wonder if it means just our individual bodies, or the corporate, community, body, or both. This whole image of cutting off hands and feet, or dropping someone into the sea with a millstone around their neck, seems very old-school Gangster. This is not what we mean when we tell parents to find Godparents for their children.

What we do mean, though, is that the witness we bear, the way we live out our faith and our wrestling with faith, must have in mind how children see and hear and learn. Remember last week’s reading when Jesus brings a child into their midst and tells them to receive children as they receive him? Today’s reading picks up right after that, so the kids are there when John comes running up to Jesus to tattle on somebody who’s not part of their inner circle but is still casting out demons. The disciples couldn’t cast out demons the last time they tried, and Jesus had to do it for them, so they probably felt a little foolish for failing, and now they see this outsider doing what they couldn’t do. No wonder they tattled. 

But the children were watching. And listening. And learning. And Jesus didn’t like what they were picking up from this behavior, so he gently corrects John. And reminds the rest of them not to cause these little ones to stumble. What in the world would cause them to stumble, since all that John said was that someone outside of their clique was doing God’s work? Okay, well, perhaps that’s really all it was. Do you have to be a Christian to do God’s work? Does God only work through, and love, those who subscribe to a particular set of beliefs?

In the ancient church, discipleship happened in a certain way: first you belonged to the community, then you learned how to behave, then you were taught what the beliefs were that shaped that behavior. Nowadays we seem to try to go about it backwards: learn the rules, act right, then we let you in. But abstract thinking about theology isn’t how children’s minds work. The doctrine of the Trinity won’t serve a factory worker very well when the plant shuts down. We don’t all believe exactly the same thing even when we use exactly the same words to talk about what we believe! Cutting someone off from the community, as John was trying to do, just because they’ve gone about the work of God by a slightly different set of steps, only ends up with all of us cut out of the picture eventually. 

Because this is God’s church, not ours, God will do amazing things without regarding the boundaries we set up. The Pope has inspired many and challenged many in this visit to our country - even folks who aren’t Catholic are listening to what he has to say and how he says it! You and I are part of this work of God, not only here in the liturgy and the ministry we do in the name of Christ our Emmanuel Lutheran Church, but out in the rest of the world, in the places where we work and vacation and struggle, and even those situations where we’d really rather not think about God. 

I love this reading from Numbers that we have for today: Eldad and Medad prophesying outside the camp, against the expectations, out of order, without express permission to do so. But the verses that are missing from our lectionary reading, mostly to keep the story short and to the point, also include a bit of God’s stubborn character. The people have complained about not having enough meat to eat, so God promises meat. Not just a little. Not even simply the morning corned beef hash and hamsteak to go with the manna. No, in our missing verses this morning, God promises so much meat that we will be sick of it, so much meat that it will come out of our nostrils and they will decide it is better to be vegetarian after all. Then God pours out the spirit of prophecy on the seventy chosen and the two who remained in the camp. It’s a sort of challenge from an irritated God tired of hearing the complaints of an ungrateful people he’s given so much to. “Plagues and Passover and Promises, and all they can say is ‘where’s the beef’? I’ll give them beef, I’ll give them the entire herd of cows!”

God goes overboard with gifts, both physical sustenance and spiritual gifts. But too often we try to hold God back, to put restrictions and restraints on where God is allowed to show up, like Joshua complained to Moses and John complained to Jesus - these folks aren’t properly vetted! They can’t be doing what God wants us to do! John and Joshua are complaining about a grace that is bigger than our imaginations, in front of the very children whose imaginations are looking for the promised land, the kingdom of heaven. Moses tells Joshua to seek more of this gift for all people. Jesus tells John to go ahead and cut off his hands and feet if he thinks it’ll get him into heaven to do so, just don’t discourage the children.

We have used texts like these for ages to put strict holds on the works of God in the world. It hasn’t helped our thirst for violence or vengeance. It hasn’t cured our warring madness or calmed our fears. If anything, we have cut one another off, cut one another into pieces, for the sake of being right and righteous. After so many generations of wars and so much of history repeating itself, we ought to know by now that it is not hands and feet that cause us to sin, but hearts. Hearts which only God can remove and revive, hearts which God does in fact bring back to life over and over again, every time we succumb to fears and anxieties about our belonging.


My friend who is in recovery from self-harm made a fascinating observation about this Gospel text. Even if we end up in hell, hands and feet and eyes and all, Jesus Christ descended into hell, hands and feet and eyes and all, for our sake. Jesus Christ is God in the flesh, God in our flesh, whole and complete, entirely alive and entirely crucified and entirely alive again, entirely to welcome the world into God’s kingdom.  Whatever you believe, wherever you are and wherever you come from, whatever credentials you don’t have, you will not be cut off from the love of God. Like a child, you are precious to God, who will forever claim you as God’s very own.

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