Sermon for Sunday, Aug. 29, 2021
James 1:17-27; Mark 7:1-8, 14-15, 21-23
Last week, Ann and I drove to New York to
see our daughter, Kathryn, and her fiancé, Sam. Years ago, I remember my parents
visiting Ann and me and saying how much they appreciated getting to see us in
our “natural habitat.” I know what they meant. Kathryn and Sam have a good life, and it’s a
joy now to be able to picture them in their home.
But more than that, I was struck by the authenticity
and purposefulness of their daily life. Here’s
a small example: Sam drinks a lot of
soda, and they both care deeply about stewarding God’s creation. So they don’t buy soda in cans or bottles. They make their own, with syrup and a
carbonating machine on their countertop.
I didn’t know that was something you could do. It may be a small thing, but small things are
what make up our lives. And I really admire
people who are able to weave their daily decisions into a cohesive, integrated
whole.
I doubt Jesus thought much about soda in
cans or bottles, but I do think he wants our words and our actions to align. In today’s Gospel reading, the guys with the
answers, the religious authorities, are giving Jesus trouble because he and his
disciples don’t follow all the rules of ritual purity. Now, it would be easy, at this point, to
launch into a self-righteous critique of Judaism in Jesus’ day, arguing that
the religion was all about law rather than grace. I don’t think that’s true, and it misses the
point. Yes, Jewish religious practice included
lots of ritual. But that was because
those practices of holiness pointed to something bigger – the integration of who
we are and how we live. The Jewish
people understood themselves to be set apart, an example to other nations of
what life can be like when you walk daily in the ways of the one true God. That’s what “holy” means – to be set apart
for special use in accordance with God’s purposes. So all those Jewish rules weren’t about
rule-following. They were about creating
a framework by which a person’s day-to-day life could reflect God’s purposes
for the world.
But, because people are people, of course it
was tempting for ritual purity to become an end unto itself. And today, the Church faces that same temptation
to focus on itself and its own life, getting wrapped up in, “What’s the right
way to worship?” Frankly, I don’t think
Jesus cares much whether our worship is more or less ritualistic, higher or
lower “up the candle,” as people in the Church of England put it – whether we
cross ourselves, or wear vestments, or celebrate Eucharist at every service. Instead, what Jesus cares about is being set
apart for God’s use and God’s purposes.
So, in the Gospel reading, Jesus confronts
the religious leaders for failing to live the set-apart life their rituals were
intended to shape. It’s about
authenticity – the need for our words and our actions to align, the need to be “doers
of the word,” as the Letter of James puts it (1:22). Because, Jesus says, what defiles us isn’t
what goes in but what comes out. What defiles
us is our hypocrisy.
Well, if we’re human, and I think most of
us are, then we’ve got work to do in aligning our words and our actions. Now, that doesn’t mean we’re going to hell because
we get it wrong sometimes. Instead, I
think Jesus wants us to look hard at ourselves and ask a question. In fact, it’s your homework assignment for the
week. Ask yourself this: “In my life, how are my words and my actions out
of alignment?”
Here’s one I struggle with. Elsewhere in the Gospels, Jesus says, “Give
to all who ask of you” (Matthew 5:42, Luke 6:30). I want to be faithful to that call, but I’m
not. I don’t give to everyone who asks
of me. In fact, on this question, we
wrestle with authenticity as a congregation, too. When people come to the church seeking financial
assistance, we offer one-time help with utility bills. That’s a good thing to do. But if you don’t have a place to live, you probably
don’t have a utility bill. Of
course, we also recognize that simply handing out cash would be problematic because,
when you do that, more and more people tend to come and take it. Recently, some of us have begun asking the
question, “How can we provide a generous welcome for people in need without
fostering dependency?” We don’t have an
answer yet, but I think the question is one we need to ask if we want our words
and our actions to align.
Here’s another holy question for us as a
congregation. The Church asks
individuals to tithe – to give back to God 10 percent of what God gives us, as
an outward and visible sign of gratitude for our blessings. Does our congregation do the same – how close
are we to giving away 10 percent of what we receive? Well, the answer depends on how you slice and
dice the giving. We give our Outreach
partners about 4 percent of our pledged income off the top. We also give tens of thousands of dollars a
year through individual parishioners’ gifts for special projects – support for
the school in Haiti or Andie’s Pantry, that sort of thing. Does that count toward a parish tithe? I would love for us to answer this question by
simply budgeting 10 percent of pledged income as direct giving to our Outreach
partners – money that comes from all of us – and then see how much more we can
give through individuals’ gifts. It’s a
work in progress; but this question of the congregation’s tithe is one we need
to ask if we want our words and our actions to align.
Here’s another rich question of
authenticity for us as a church. Over the
past couple of years, many of us have become increasingly concerned about honoring
and lifting up Black lives. I struggle
with how to put that thought into practical action. Well, recently, someone suggested to me a
very concrete way to do that – by seeking out Black-owned companies for work
the church needs to have done. When we’re
looking for a plumber, or a food truck, or lawn-care company, we could make a difference
by hiring Black-owned businesses for that work.
How would we manage a policy like that? I don’t know.
But it would be a good question to ask if we want our words and actions to
align.
Well, last weekend, nine St. Andrew’s
people served at the congregation’s booth at Pridefest, the first time we’ve taken
part in a Pride event. I don’t know all of
what may come from our presence at Pridefest, but I do have a first-person
report of the difference it made.
A stranger stopped by the St. Andrew’s booth, looked at the “pass the peace” sign and the church’s materials, and talked with parishioners who were walking the walk of loving people in our community. This man grew up in Kansas City, though he now lives out of town; and his experience of “church” has been less than loving. Here’s what the man had to say:
I went to a religious organization that sent me to conversion therapy when I was 15. Part of the reason I left Kansas City was because I didn’t feel I could be who I am here safely. It’s been a long journey finding my way back to God and to myself. And now, I come across this sign [about God loving all]. And I started crying because [the sign’s message] wasn’t true when I grew up here. So, for me to see a sign like this now is incredibly healing and something that needs to be shared. So, if you’re out there and you’re queer or … nonconforming in any way, and you think that God doesn’t love you, that the universe doesn’t care about you – it’s not true…. Happy Pride!
This moment shows the difference it makes
when our words and our actions align, when we live into Jesus’ vision of us as
doers of the Word. Living with integrity
isn’t just about you pleasing God by practicing a good, holy life. It’s about the effect that your good, holy,
authentic life can have on others. When
you do the Word, you pass the peace.
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