Sermon March 6, 2011

Exodus 24:12-18

Psalm 2

2 Peter 1:16-21

Matthew 17:1-9

“Dazzled by the Reign”

What’s the holiest place you can imagine? Where have you experienced the most sacred moments in your life? When have the insignificant details been swept away and you’ve been left with the kernel of hope that is everything to you? Each one of us probably has a different picture in mind as we imagine, remember and re-experience those moments of rapture, crisis, serenity, fear, hope, anxiety, love or whatever those moments brought us.

Each text read this morning describes the experiences of our ancestors in faith as they encountered holiness and God’s presence—and they, too, experienced a broad spectrum of responses through those encounters.

When Moses was called up on the mountain by God to receive God’s law and experience God’s presence intimately, he prepared himself and the Hebrew people for his absence. He took his assistant Joshua—and he told the elders what to do in while he was gone. And he entrusted the people to his brother Aaron. Only when he was prepared, did he go to encounter God’s presence and receive God’s word of law. This story is one of the crucial stories of the Jewish people—this story of Moses’ encounter with God’s holy presence. Not only did Moses receive the law from God’s own hand, but he experienced God’s presence and an unprecedented way and he lived to survive it.

Knowing the story of Moses on the mountain—experiencing God in the fire and cloud that covered the mountaintop—we can then listen to the story of Jesus and his disciples more clearly and hear it in the way that Matthew intends for us to hear it.

We also need to set this story within its own set of circumstances. Matthew 17:1-9 follows Peter's declaration of Jesus as the Messiah (16:13-20); Jesus' prediction of his death in 16:21-23; and Jesus telling the disciples that those who wanted to follow him would need to deny themselves. Following this, the text says Jesus took Peter, John, and James up to the mountain where Divine encounter and Divine revelation ensue. The text does not say why Jesus decided to go to the mountain on that occasion, nor does it speak to why those three disciples were asked to accompany him. There are no stated expectations for the trip to what was considered a holy place where God was encountered. Instead, we learn that Jesus took the disciples up to the mountain.[1]

So we are meant to know that Jesus has been proclaimed as Messiah or Christ, the anointed one of God, even as we are told that he will be rejected and killed for that identity and that his disciples would have to deny themselves to follow him. God’s chosen one was following a road that led to death for himself and denial of those who would follow. Could that be right?

But Jesus led some notable disciples up some mountain in the area where they were. Peter, James and John (presumably the two brothers and the sons of Zebedee) were prominent in the gospel story of Jesus’ life—though they were not the most prominent preachers after the resurrection. For some reason, Jesus chose them to see this moment in his life, what we’ve come to call Jesus’ transfiguration.

“He was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white. Suddenly there appeared to them Moses and Elijah, talking with him.”[2] The word used to describe Jesus’ change of appearance, his transfiguration is metamorphosis in the Greek—he is changed before their eyes. One commentary argued that this was not change, but a revelation of what was already there, but the word used implies that he was changed—this was a moment where his life turned a corner and he, perhaps, embraced the next phase of his life where he turned toward the events that would occur in Jerusalem. And in that moment, his companions—the first disciples Jesus called in Matthew—saw him differently, perhaps saw him as he would appear to them after his crucifixion. Whatever it was, it was different than ever before.

Sister Joan Chittister notes that "Mountains…in Greek, Hebrew, Roman and Asian religious literature, were always places where the human could touch the divine"[3]. The mountaintop experience was known to first century followers of Jesus and the significance of this mountaintop experience would be evident to all who heard the story. The Synoptic Gospels connect with this ancient understanding of the importance of the mountaintop as a place where the Divine could be seen and encountered in tangible life-changing ways. As soon as Jesus and the three disciples arrive on the high unnamed mountain, Jesus is transformed before them.

The mountaintop as the location for the events to come sets the stage for the possibilities of the moment. The mountain or high places were understood by the ancients as places where Divine encounter took place. [4] When would Jesus need the light of the divine more—the comfort of God’s call, presence and encouragement—than at this moment when his life took the irrevocable turn toward the cross? This is one of the reasons why we visit this text of transfiguration is read the Sunday before we begin our 40 day Lenten journey toward the cross.

This encounter with God, as our encounters with God often do, is meant to carry us forward into times when we wonder where it is that God has gone—when we feel abandoned or as Jesus said on the cross, forsaken.

In the transfiguration, we see a glimpse of where Jesus is headed, though the disciples at the time didn’t know where that was, exactly and how Jesus’ rejection and death would lead them there. But in the light and bedazzlement of the moment they could continue on. Just as we are intended to do, carrying with us a vision of where we are meant to be, acting toward those godly intentions for us.

The reign of God is a dazzling vision—sometimes seen only as an existence beyond death—but in this vision of the first of Jesus’ disciples, as an ever-present reality in Jesus’ being and life.

The temptation of a mountaintop experience, however, is to remain there—as Peter’s excited exclamation revealed. “Let’s build a tabernacle, a shrine, for each of you to show others what we have seen and we will stay here with all of you in glory!” But God put a stop to that, “This is my beloved, Son, hear what he has to say!” and when they were through cowering in fear, Jesus called them to continue in their discipleship—without fear. Jesus’ appearance with the iconic, Moses and Elijah, sign and symbol of the Jewish faith, the law and the prophets set him firmly within their expectations of God’s presence. Yet because he told them he would be rejected, I imagine they still wondered where this journey to Jerusalem could possibly lead.

And Jesus continued to lead them into the dazzling reign of God—even though he led them down the mountain, away from that vision of holiness and into the needy crowds of people. Because that’s where the reign of God dwells—not in a building that tries to preserve a moment of time, but in the lives of all the people that God has touched and moved as they move together toward the world that God has envisioned in all of us together.

Our responses to God’s vision for us are as varied as we are—we are dazzled and inspired and we are anxious and fearful—sometimes all at the same time. Sometimes we have to sit with God’s vision for us before we can follow it and sometimes we can step out immediately from the dazzling moment we experience. Fred Craddock states, "There is value in referring to this story as one about Jesus' mountaintop experience, which is followed by his return to the valley where he ministered to human need. To such a presentation we can add recitations of mountaintop experiences we have known, followed by exhortations to return to the valley ready to serve.[5]

The moment of transformation is one that invites us to new and meaningful encounters with God, places where we serve and welcome all those we meet to a life of faith and worship. We can live and move into God’s reign—knowing that it’s not all done, but that we get to help in its fulfillment every day.

To God’s glory, on the mountain, in the valley and in every place and time. Amen.

---

[1] http://www.ucc.org/worship/samuel/march-6-2011-last-sunday-1-1-1.html

[2] Matthew 17:3-4

[3]("The Role of Religion in Today's Society,") http://www.csec.org/csec/sermon/chittister_3508.htm

[4] http://www.ucc.org/worship/samuel/march-6-2011-last-sunday-1-1-1.html

[5] (The Christian Century, February 21, 1990).

"Putting Love First”

Sermon February 27 2011
Isaiah 49:8-16a
Psalm 131
1 Corinthians 4:1-5
Matthew 6:24-34

My mother often worried about me, especially when I was in college and seminary because I didn’t seem to be too concerned about my money. She worried about all of us, but of course I heard more about how I worried her. She worried when I didn’t know what I wanted to do after college. And then when I started seminary, she worried because I was going into ministry. And I worried, worried about money, career, love, college, seminary, career and life in general. But worrying about it—my mother’s worry or mine—didn’t change the situation. So, I guess what I’m telling you is that I worry and I think it’s hereditary.

And I’m not the only one. Even when people don’t say the word, I know people worry about all kinds of things. Every night Carl and I worry about what we’re going to have for dinner—not that we don’t have food, but such a variety that we can’t decide. But both of our families have had times when they did worry about food and where it was coming from. I’ve wondered if I was going to have rent money, car payment, etc.

And in the midst of my worry, I’m not thinking about the abundance of the world that God created and how God provides what we need—somewhere it’s available—but really what I’m worried about is the money I have or don’t have. Does that sound at all familiar? I thought so.

Jesus’ audience weren’t immune to worry either—and in their world, life was much more precarious. He begins by stated clearly the source of worry, “No one can serve two masters; for a slave will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth.” Wealth or the lack thereof is the worry. Our security seems to lay in wealth of one kin or another. If we’ve got it, we want to protect it. If we don’t have it, we seem to think it will fix everything. Wealth and security are linked to kingdom in Jesus' time. Security came from a powerful king and the means to acquire wealth (and that kind of security) came from a stable kingdom.

Living in a modern, democratic society, we can hardly imagine the emotion impact the word kingdom (a word Jesus uses over and over). And in Jesus’ time, and long before the time of Jesus, one had to have the protection of living within a kingdom to even survive. As we read scripture and read of the people God chose stepping away from the protection of a kingdom, what we’re really reading about is people stepping away from known order into possible chaos and it took tremendous faith to do that. Abraham left a kingdom or city state called Ur to follow the promise that God gave him. He left with wife and household and walked into the unknown trusting only in God’s promise. When the Hebrew people left Egypt and slavery they left the only life they’d ever known. Even when the Israelites left Babylon (which had become Persia) to return to the Promised Land, they left order to return to land of chaos. God’s are often found leaving the security of an established authority and trusting God to take care of them in some other way and in some other time.

In Isaiah, the people of Israel are going to come home after years of exile—God’s children were coming home. For some of them, Babylon or Persia, was the only home they’d ever know. For some of them, even if they did remember Zion or Jerusalem, they thought God had abandoned them to their captors. Though the prophets had never stopped telling the of God’s love and when, finally, they were seeing the possibility of going home, they still found it hard, as we do to trust that God is leading us to a place called home. But Isaiah evokes God’s ultra maternal care, “Can a woman forget her nursing child or show no compassion for the child of her womb? Even these may forget, yet I will not forget you.” Wherever we go and have gone, God has never abandoned us. Though we die, we are accompanied to our last breath and beyond by the one who has given us life and death and life again.

God accompanies us into places and times when we feel like the bottom has dropped out of our world—or the order has disappeared—or when despair or depression seems too much. God accompanies us and calls us to faith, even when and especially when there’s nothing left to rely upon.

As we live in a culture and nation that enjoys incredible prosperity compared to many places in the world, one of our greatest temptations is to give our loyalty to the concrete and obvious benefits of that culture and nation. Instead, we are called by Jesus to give our loyalty first to the realm that God is building and to the righteousness that God calls us to live. Other things will fall into place—in some way—according to God’s intentions.

Whenever I begin to consider the difficulty in relying on God—without compromise—a scene from a movie flashes in to my mind. In the 1977 made for TV movie Jesus of Nazareth, there is a scene in the Jewish Council or the Sanhedrin where the leadership were discussing Jesus. Most of them were concerned that Jesus was stirring up chaos too much and the Romans were beginning to notice—they wanted to prevent the Romans from crucifying thousands of Jews on the walls of Jerusalem and other places as had been done before there and in other lands. Some might have been greedy for the relative power
their positions gave them under the Romans, but others (like Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea, mentioned in the gospels) seemed to be sincere leaders of God’s people. Whoever we are we often walk a fine line in our person loyalties and priorities for attention, time and resources.

It’s difficult to step out and away for the surest things in life, relying instead upon the promise of a seeming ethereal realm of God—this kingdom that Jesus preached and lived. It’s hard and I don’t know anyone who does it or did it perfectly—except Jesus. Yet, we aren’t supposed to worry about that so much either—just do it to the best of our God-given ability.

Whether we’re looking at the life of the peasant listener in Jesus’ time—the slave of ancient Israel—or listening to Jesus’ words now it’s still takes continuous attention and intention to keep love as a priority in
the complexities of life.

Jesus holds up a way of looking at life that might hold the answers, even in our complicated times. “Look at the birds of the air . . . Consider the lilies of the field . . . they neither toil nor spin and yet . . .” Jesus
isn’t advocating giving up on working, on purpose or on effort and yet we are called to realize that God has provided enough already in this world. We might have to move the food, clothing and shelter around a little bit, with love as that priority, to satisfy each one’s real need, but God’s creation is abundantly and fertile enough to feed us all.

Despite the differences between our world and that of the peasants in Jesus’ homeland, we still struggle to live according to the priority of the love of God’s kingdom without serving two (or more) masters. I
know that I struggle and I worry and I don’t think I am alone. I may not worry about amassing wealth, where I am, but I still am concerned with success and status sometimes. And I don’t worry much about the rise of the chaos of anarchy and violence, I do get a little fearful when I think about giving up all of my trust to God and only God. In my heart I know I can do that, but I always seem to keep a little worry for myself, just to be on the safe side.

But I do see that living according to the way that Jesus revealed in his life—the love that God pours out on us all—means living toward a world free of hunger, thirst and exposure to the elements. God’s kingdom isn’t so much about where you live—or even where you’ll end up—it’s about living toward God’s intentions for the world.

This isn’t new, and it’s probably not over—so in our desire and purpose of living toward the realm that Jesus has announced and inaugurated—we continue to move closer to the rhythm of life that Jesus desired for us and that which God has blessed us.

One writer’s reflection on this text winds up this way, “Don't worry about your life, says Jesus. Don't be afraid. Isaiah acknowledged that the exiles felt "forsaken and forgotten" in their exile to Babylon,
and so he reminded them of the God of "comfort and compassion" (49:13–14).” He continues, “In my better moments, I resonate with the farmer-poet Wendell Berry (born 1934) and his poem The Peace of Wild Things. Berry echoes the words of Jesus about the worries of life:

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
The world can be wild, but Jesus says that under the care of
his Father it can nonetheless be a place of peace.” [1]

As we have explored our discipleship with Jesus Christ, we can recall the journey through the Sermon on the Mount that Matthew reveals to us in Jesus’ teachings.

Through the Beatitudes,
we have immersed ourselves
in the extraordinary and wise ways of God,
and received a glimpse of a vision that is
both beautiful and terrifying in its implications.

In Jesus’ teaching of law and life,
we have immersed ourselves
in the extraordinary and wise ways of God,
and discovered all that we are
and all that God calls us to be is restored in beauty.
We have learned from Jesus how to fulfill boldly
the law of love from the heart.

As Jesus’ taught us who we are and who God loves,
we have immersed ourselves
in the extraordinary and wise ways of God,
and were encouraged to expand
love’s possibilities into the far flung universe.

And in Jesus words of serenity,
we have immersed ourselves
in the extraordinary and wise ways of God,
and make the loving ways of God
our ultimate goal and our greatest loyalty.[2]

In our walk of discipleship, let us be trusting, hopeful and full of God’s beautiful vision as we enter more closely into God’s will for us all. To God’s glory, one God evermore. Amen.

[1]http://www.journeywithjesus.net/ February 27 2011
[2]Seasons of the Spirit, February 27 2011, congregational life, Response.

Expanding Boudaries (Matthew 5:38-48)

Sermon February 20 2011

(Leviticus 19:1-2, 9-18; Psalm 119:33-40; I Corinthians 3:10-11, 16-23)

I read an unusual example of witnessing to the power of love and forgiveness this week and I’d like to share that story with you: In 1984, Jennifer Thompson-Cannino testified that Ronald Cotton was the man who raped her. Eleven years later, DNA evidence cleared him of the crime. The two are now frequent speakers on judicial reform. They live in North Carolina with their families. They appeared together on Nation Public Radio’s “This I Believe” series in March 2009.

At one point Jennifer said, “I asked Ron if he could ever forgive me. And with all the mercy in the world he took my hands and with tears in his eyes, he told me he had forgiven me a long time ago. At that moment I began to heal. Ronald taught me how to let go of all that pain; his forgiveness set me free that night. Without Ronald, I would still be shackled to that moment in time, and it would own me forever. I soon discovered that I could even forgive the man who had raped me – not because he asked me to, nor because he deserved it – but because I did not want to be a prisoner of my own hatred.”[1]

This story has great impact because of the massive scale of the forgiveness—for both parties involved. Imagine being wrongly accused of a crime that holds such emotional, physical and mental impact and revulsion for most people. And imagine being the one who was mistaken—even without intent—and also dealing with the impact of a physical attack like rape.

Most of us will not have these kinds of experiences—though I am sure that these kinds of stories do exist within our community of faith—but most of us have the experience of another person causing us pain in some way and of causing another person pain, whether on purpose or without intent. We all must contend with the pain that we cause one another because we behave badly or we act without thinking or even when the best of intentions cause pain. Others can also cause us pain even when behaving in perfectly good ways as when children grow us and must be let go or loved ones must move—the kinds of things that really are the best choices for everyone.

Jesus speaks to these painful moments as he continues his Sermon on the Mount in Matthew’s gospel. Jesus begins this section of his message, “You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’”[2] And we’ve heard that said, too. It’s an oft quoted justification for swift and severe punishment for crimes, yet in its First Testament context, it’s actually a call for just and relatively merciful consequences that fit the crimes committed. In ancient times, depending on one’s status, the punishment for causing another injury didn’t always fit the injury. The intention of “an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth,” was the limitation of consequence. Under this standard, a powerful person wasn’t allowed to demand the life of servant, slave or other low-status person in the case of injury. And this eye for an eye stuff was to be a maximum consequence because they knew too, that if they continued, all would be blind and toothless.

So Jesus’ word in today’s scripture continues to expand the original understanding of the text—but instead of just limiting swift and severe retaliation, he calls for the exposure of broader injustice. Jesus taught the workers and peasants of his time—he was observed by the more powerful among the Jewish people, but his audience were little more than slaves among the powerful Roman occupiers of Palestine. The peace of Rome was absolute—law and order (at least their own) was kept with an iron fist. Jesus would eventually meet their judgment himself.

And in the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus talks about a world of oppression they understood, though it is a far removed experience from our own. One author[3] describes this set of events in a particular way that opened my eyes to Jesus’ intent. Instead of sounding like you should just take whatever anyone dishes out, it resets these statements and makes them a form of passive resistance.

So when Jesus says, “Do not resist an evildoer. But if anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also,”[4] it can be understood as resistance instead of submission and consent to a lowered status. In that land, in that day and in our own, when you touched another person, you always used your right hand. It was the clean hand for hygienic reasons. If you strike someone on the right cheek with your right hand—you’ve backhanded them, struck them as if they were a slave or someone with less status. When Jesus told them to offer the left, he was telling them to stand up as an equal. The blow wouldn’t hurt any less, but the perpetrator of the blow would have to strike the other as an equal.

The second statement is similarly structured—and you need to know the context—the law allowed the holding of a cloak for collateral for a loan. Exodus 22 says, “If you take your neighbor’s cloak in pawn, you shall restore it before the sun goes down; for it may be your neighbor’s only clothing to use as cover; in what else shall that person sleep? And if your neighbor cries out to me, I will listen, for I am compassionate.”[5] When Jesus says, “and if anyone wants to sue you and take your coat, give your cloak as well,”[6] he was revealing the sin of usury or taking more in interest than another can afford. In that day many were taken to prison for having nothing to repay a debt. He expanded this understanding of God’s compassion. If the person gave up their inner garment as well as their outer garment, in that day and in that culture, they revealed the other person’s shame and greed instead of their own.

And in the last part of this section of scripture, Jesus said, “and if anyone forces you to go one mile, go also the second mile.”[7] A Roman soldier could order a resident of an occupied land, like Judah, to carry his pack one mile without punishment by his leaders. He was not supposed to have anyone carry beyond that point. It was a law that guaranteed the subservient status of the occupied country, yet made them seem somewhat merciful. So Jesus said to reveal the occupation and the oppression—walk another mile at the soldier’s protest. Walk it to show agency of choice instead of submission.

And then Jesus wraps up this part with “Give to everyone who begs from you, and do not refuse anyone who wants to borrow from you.” The imperial government could demand anything—they were the enemy, too. So he may be leading up to the next part of the sermon, “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’” The bible never commands to hate one’s enemy—in fact, in much of the First Testament, the stranger and the sojourner who might be members of an enemy tribe or nation are to be cared for as God cares for us all. So Jesus may be pointing out a common way of thinking, and might even be seen as common sense to some.

“But,” he continues, “I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven; for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous.” Whenever I read this, I am reminded of a line from Mark Twain’s prose piece, The War Prayer, “If you would beseech a blessing upon yourself, beware! lest without intent you invoke a curse upon a neighbor at the same time. If you pray for the blessing of rain upon your crop which needs it, by that act you are possibly praying for a curse upon some neighbor's crop which may not need rain and can be injured by it.”[8]

Whether or not we pray for it, or can imagine it, God does send rain and blessing upon us all. And God’s love is given to all—whether we call someone enemy or they call us so. Jesus’ teachings have been called naïve and they are in some ways, yet they can be life-changing. As Paul wrote to the church in Corinth, “If you think that you are wise in this age, you should become fools so that you may become wise. For the wisdom of this world is foolishness with God.”[9]

If each follower of Jesus Christ—each one who professed to be a disciple of Jesus followed listened and heard his teaching and then acted according, the world just might be turned upside down. And each life that did so certainly would be. If compassion and forgiveness ruled us as wholly as fear and anger and vengeance seem to control us and our world today imagine how large God’s kingdom—the household of God—would feel!

Jesus calls his disciples—people who were adopted into the children of God whatever their ancestry—to live as God’s children. God’s care and providence (the sun and the rain) are given to the whole world. Who are we to dispute God’s care by our neglect or enmity? And yet it is beyond us if we try to do it alone. It is beyond us if we attempt it without the support of one another and it is certainly beyond our powers if we try it without God. We have to constantly and continuously go to the well of God’s love to survive and even more so to do the work that God calls us to do. To expand the boundaries of our own love to come close to that of God’s—we will constantly seek God’s help and God’s forgiveness. And that’s okay as long as we are moving, stepping, speaking, acting, praying our lives more closely to what God has in store for us.

Our text this morning ends with Jesus setting a powerful goal—a goal that sounds impossible, but is the ultimate call for expanding boundaries, “48Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.”[10] One translator says we are to be mature[11] as God is mature, another “complete in showing love to everyone, so also you must be complete.”[12] Another describes it as living “generously and graciously toward others, the way God lives toward you.”[13]

Any way it is said, again, we aren’t doing it alone—not alone without others and certainly not alone without the help of God. We have to work together and hand in hand with God along the way that Jesus began two thousand years ago. Life looks different now than it did then—we are more prosperous and powerful than Jesus’ original audience. We have the responsible of using our relative prosperity for the sake of those who do not enjoy it.

This week is fittingly the first Sunday for our Week of Compassion offering, so we have an opportunity to realize how big the world is, how the love of God reaches out even now through people who care for those in short-term crisis and long-term need. Amy Gopp, Executive Director, Week of Compassion said it this way, “We do not give because we have; we give because we love. We give because we are loved. Praise be to God for this indescribable gift!”

To the glory of God and in the hope of God’s ever expanding love, grace and hope for us all. Amen.

Works cited:

[1] Copyright © 2009 by Jennifer Thompson-Cannino and Ronald Cotton. Part of the I Believe Essay Collection found at www.thisibelieve.org. Copyright © 2005–2009. This I Believe, Inc. Used with permission of This I Believe, Inc. in Seasons of the Spirit From “Finding Freedom” p. 131.

[2] Matthew 5:38

[3] The Powers that Be, Walter Wink

[4] Matthew 5:39

[5] Exodus 22:26-27

[6] Matthew 5:40

[7] Matthew 5:41

[8] “The War Prayer,” Mark Twain, (1905) Public Domain. (remained unpublished until after his death, until 1923.)

[9] 1 Corinthians 3:18-19.

[10] Matthew 5:48

[11] The Complete Gospels, Robert J. Miller, Editor

[12] Mt. 5:48, CEB

[13] Mt. 5:48, The Message

Sermon February 13 2011

Deuteronomy 30:15-20

Matthew 5:17-37

“Beautiful Hearts”

Recently we bought a cage to put one of our cats into. He was a feral cat that I brought in from the street about 8 years ago now. And he’s always been very careful about associating with me and almost everyone else except my other cat Zacchaeus. When Carl and I married, and merged our cat families, Jonathan was not very flexible. Zacc and the others learned to get along after a few months, but we’ve come to the conclusion that Jon can’t do it. So he’s got very rigid boundaries now—a cage. But he’s a cat and can’t be reasoned with—though Carl tries.

Some folks think of Old Testament law as a cage—a rigid thing, made to limit choice and freedom. And it can be used that way—almost like a weapon. Religious laws can and have been used to hurt people in that way, taking away instead of adding to people’s lives. One understanding distinguishes the rules of religion from the practice of spirituality. Religion can be about rules—what you believe, what you do. Spirituality is about quality, a connection of the heart. Religion often draws lines. Spirituality sees between the lines, blurring definition, boundary and argument . It isn’t about right and wrong—but it is about making connections. Spirituality includes instead of saying what is wrong with someone else it crosses over and understands.[1]

Sometimes we get our faith and our spiritual practice confused with our religious beliefs—and though they should fit together, make sense together, what I do in my spiritual practice might not be the same as what you do. Our spiritual practice might include meditating in utter silence, never moving and singing out in praise and speak words of prayer and walking and biking and all kinds of activities—or none.

The outer religious expression, however it is done, is less important that the connections that are made with God and with a community of people with whom we are traveling.

We make a spiritual connection with God and with people so that our hearts can be a part of God’s vision—the vision beautiful that moves and guides us in our discipleship.

The series on discipleship continues today as we move farther into Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount in the gospel of Matthew. And as we continue this series, it’s important that we look at the law of Moses as presented to us in the First Testament of our scripture. The First Testament—or Old Testament—was Jesus’ Bible. It was integral to his faith and his relationship with God. Today’s gospel lesson integrates his understanding of the law—the Torah—the first five books of our First Testament—into his life and the life of those he was calling to be his disciples.

The text from Deuteronomy helps us to understand the importance of the law—to Jesus and to all Jewish people. In it, Moses is emphasizing what the law does, “I have set before you today life and prosperity, death and adversity.” He tells the people that if they love God and live according to God’s law then they will live and be numerous. He tells them that if they do not, they will die. I’ve heard sermons about this, sermons about God’s punishment on the disobedient, but instead I hear the consequences of breaking the covenant. God built a people, using laws that connected them to each other with love. They were to love God and love one another in particular ways by being honest even with dishonesty would be profitable. They were told to respect one another’s land, animals and other property because it was all God’s to begin with—and it was a loving thing to do. They were told not to kill one another because life was a gift of God. They were told to respect contracts of marriage because God loved them and wanted them to love each other. Life outside the law was chaotic and life inside the law was manageable—as long as it was lived and applied with justice.

In the apocrypha, the book of Sirach says it this way, “God has placed before you fire and water; stretch out your hand for whichever you choose.” Which choice that I make will burn (me or another) and which will give life (to me or another)?

As I have said a few times since beginning this series, the model for way in which Matthew tells the story of Jesus comes from Moses and in today’s text, we are given and understanding of Jesus’ relationship with the law of Moses and how Jesus’ relationship with God made him understand the law of Moses.

I began the reading today in verse 17, “Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfill.” Jesus’ teaching didn’t take away the law, but made it contemporary to his time—like some of the other teachers of his day. He was teaching about the spirituality of the law—how it built relationship instead of the wall between people that the law had become in some cases.

The Pharisees were intense keepers of the law—they taught that the more rigidly the law was kept, the more they would be rewarded. But in the midst of their often sincere, but ostentatious obedience, they lost track of the purpose in the law. Jesus wasn’t teaching that the law was less important, but that it was more important than rigid obedience made it. Righteousness comes from the heart—hearts made beautiful by God’s love and our love for one another.

Jesus begins with murder—the law says, “You shall not murder.” And Jesus says that disciples also must not hate and disrespect others. It means living life differently, the leadership of Judea, often named as the Pharisees, upholding Rome’s hierarchical and unjust society. Disciples were to challenge this by offering another alternative. Instead of ignoring differences that mattered, Jesus describes a process of reconciliation. He tells them not to worship (in his time, sacrifice) with hatred or vengeance or violence or injustice in the heart, but as his disciples, to go and forgive or be forgiven before worshipping. Murder, in Jesus’ interpretation, was destroying people with public abusive anger and dismissing them. Reconciliation was to be the disciples’ choice. By a change of heart the heart of a disciple becomes the residence of God’s vision of beauty.

Throughout life people will make you mad,

disrespect you and treat you bad.

Let God deal with the things they do,

‘cause hate in your heart will consume you too.[2]

Jesus takes on the touchy issue of adultery and divorce. In Jesus’ day, men could divorce their wives by walking away. It was the male’s choice to be there and his choice to walk away. Jesus interpreted the law’s prohibition against adultery to curb male predatory behavior. It’s hard for me to imagine the culture of the time, a certain kind of male impunity to the consequences of some laws—like this one. Jesus wanted them to be aware of the temptation, the source, the seed where adultery began. Avoiding adultery was about seeing the other person—the woman, as a person in relationship with God, not just as an object of desire.

And the next prohibition against divorce was given for similar reasons—and remember that it is spiritual rather than religious. The law allowed for divorce—and Jesus acknowledged that, but saw that the practice was abused. When women were dismissed/divorced at a whom they were branded, ostracized and often impoverished. Jesus stated that a man didn’t have unlimited power to walk away from a wife. Marriage was to be built around just treatment of another human being. We understand marriage from an even broader perspective—as women and men gain and understanding of equality with one another, the relationship changes.

Both of these prohibitions make us aware of Jesus’ teaching was to bring people into a loving and just community—and honestly, I have to say that sometimes divorce is loving and just, you know that, too. So many people I’ve known have been trapped into a situation where divorce was the only loving answer for both parties.

Even Jesus’ teaching from the mountain top, as Matthew reveals it, is received as we continue our journey of growing understanding of God and our relationship with God and one another. In an understanding of our spirituality and our discipleship, we can see how our hearts are changed and made more beautiful and more open to God’s presence and guidance.

The final teaching concerns lying or giving false witness—as the commandment says. Jesus wants to simplify the idea. It’s not just lying if we have sworn on the bible or given an oath to God, but in a community of integrity and “right” or just relationship an oath is unnecessary. This particular prohibition comes from the use of oaths to evade the truth. So, if one didn’t swear an oath, one was not responsibility to the truth.

Jesus’ teaching on the mountaintop was given to deepen the understanding of the law of Moses. It was meant to emphasize, reemphasize and restate—just as the First Testament often did—that God’s word was for the purpose of life, not for that of stagnation and promoting the status quo. God’s word was alive, is alive and meant to address the situation of each life that it touched. God’s truth, carried forth in Jesus’ life and into the lives of his disciples was given to change our hearts—and not just our minds—so that our decisions are governed by the love that God has given us and, and, and, and, and, the love between human beings which is called forth by the love of God. One cannot and does not exist without the other.

What has been your experience of learning to live faith from the heart, rather than relying on external religious rules and expectations? Living faith from the heart—the heart that knows God’s love, everlasting, forgiving and eternally understanding—means that not only can I be forgiven, but that I can forgive myself and so I can forgive others. God’s love, everlasting, forgiving and eternal understanding means that when I see love in another’s heart, I recognize God, even if we don’t agree about God and religion and the words we use to describe them. Having a beautiful heart—making my heart, your heart, the heart of this community a home for God means that it’s got to be a big heart.

And that kind of heart is not a cage—as the law is not a cage—and Jesus’ teachings are not a cage—they are like a nourished garden, giving what’s needed to grow. The text challenges us to see the world in a new way. "In each of the scenarios Jesus is calling for an entirely new way of viewing human relationships," [Charles Cousar writes.] "Behind the prohibitions lies the vision of a restored humanity" (Texts for Preaching Year A).

They are about what we can be—and what God has created us to be as we journey in our discipleship. When we have beautiful hearts we are inviting God in to live with us and in us—as we interact with each other, those we love and those we don’t love yet.

Rather than giving us cages, we are given the freedom to live in beauty with each other—knowing the limits and confessing sin—and with God’s love in our beautiful hearts.

To the glory of God. Amen.

[1] By Brian Woodcock from This is the Day, edited by Neil Paynter copyright © 2002 Wild Goose Publications, paraphrase.

[2] Just the Two of Us, Will Smith (sung to his son)