Righteousness and rejection. Rejection and righteousness. It seems to be a constant struggle, figuring out these two things. Those who we deem ‘self-righteous’ often reach that status by rejecting a lot of other people. And yet those who we would off-handedly reject for one reason or another are often those held up as models of righteousness. Think of the poor, hungry, homeless, sick… those named in Jesus’ sermon on the mount as ‘blessed.’ Or, since we’ve got a bit of their story today, think of Abram and Sarai, who by all appearances were rejected, because they had no offspring, no heir, no future, no children to carry their name forward. In ancient times, barren women were often seen as deserving their childless-ness for having done something unrighteous. Any illness or misfortune, really, was seen as a sign of God having rejected the person on account of sin, and the rest of the ‘healthy’ neighbors would cut them off, point out their misfortune with a shake of the head and maybe a bit of that ‘there but for the grace of God go I.’
Righteousness and rejection. Rejection and righteousness. This morning’s Psalm contains both, if we had read it entirely from its beginning. We only got the happy ending in the lectionary portion today, but the number of today’s Psalm is 22. The 23rd Psalm is the Shepherd Psalm, and the 22nd is the one we pray on Maundy Thursday while stripping the altar. You might remember the opening line for this Psalm from Jesus’ words on the cross: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Guessing from the way the Psalm ends, one might never know it started off from such a place of barrenness. Such a despairing, empty, painful prayer as it begins, Psalm 22 lays out the fullness of the poet’s sense of rejection, works its way through all of those nasty uncomfortable feelings that we certainly don’t talk about in church, and then resolves in this triumphant word of hope: all who live, and all who ever have lived, will kneel before the Lord and declare to generations yet to come that Adonai has acted!
Righteousness and rejection. Rejection and righteousness. Jesus’ disciples are following him on his way to Jerusalem, amazed at the feedings and healing and miracles and still not quite understanding what they mean when they use the word “Messiah” about their teacher. “Who is this,” they ask, “that even the wind and the waves obey him?” They argue about who might sit at his right and left hand in his glory, they talk about his reputation as a powerful prophet, then he hits them - again - with the foretelling of his impending arrest, humiliation, and crucifixion. They see him as righteous and powerful, he tells them he will soon be rejected, and they can’t handle it.
Righteousness and rejection. Rejection and righteousness. Following Jesus means that we will be rejected, too. “Take up your cross,” he says. And he didn’t mean just live with that horrible relationship or that terrible economic situation and suffer through because it’s ‘just your cross to bear.’ This is not Jesus’ way of saying be nice to the most annoying people in your life and give up a latte now and then so you can donate an extra five dollars to the hunger appeal. This is the hard work of discipleship. This is the answer to those who say being a Christian is an easy, low-risk, high-profile, every day is sunshine and roses sort of thing. It wouldn’t be honest to try and grow a church by telling people there’s nothing difficult about living in community and learning together how to more deeply love the world we live in. Loving deeply means sacrifice. Loving deeply means giving and giving. Loving deeply means there is a cost, and that love may not be reciprocal.
Righteousness and rejection, after all, are all tied up in this loving deeply. The word ‘righteous’ means ‘in right relationship.’ And since God is a God of deep and abiding love, to be in relationship with God means being loved deeply and eternally. And since we are a people, a humanity, infected by sin, it means we are of a habit of rejecting that love simply on the basis of proving ourselves and having a preference toward pulling ourselves up by the bootstraps, thank you very much.
Yet when we look at the rest of the Jesus story, after he tells his disciples to take up their crosses, to openly bear those things others would likely shame them for, to wear their hearts and their hurts on their sleeves, he reminds them that this is the best and only way to truly live. Endlessly striving to save our lives, to protect ourselves from pain by hiding behind our work or our accomplishments or our wealth or the sin we point out in others, will only shrivel our hearts and keep us from truly living. Those who seek to save their lives, he says, will lose them. But to live openly, honestly, whole-heartedly, in such a way that risks rejection from the world, brings us more deeply into the great company of saints before and around us. To live truly is to give our hearts and our lives away in loving deeply, in living the Gospel that is the truth of God’s never-ending love for all of creation.
And even in those moments when the disciples fail, when we fail, to carry our cross and live as deeply as we were created to live, to love as openly as truly makes us alive, even then, Jesus does not fail to carry his cross for us. Jesus undergoes all that he said he would, the betrayal and beating and death unto resurrection, out of a deep and abiding love for us! For every time that we fail to follow, Jesus comes to walk beside us. Every time we fail to love, Jesus loves us anyhow. Every time we miss the mark, get in over our heads, feel abandoned and start to despair, Jesus comes and carries us - his love and his life - through every death and on into eternal life.
Christ Jesus, who is Righteousness, lived through every deepest rejection the world has to offer, to restore us all to righteousness.
No comments:
Post a Comment