Joel D. Kline
November 2, 2003
Highland Avenue Church of the Brethren
The Twenty-First Sunday after Pentecost
I recently started a novel by James Lee Burke entitled White Doves at Morning. Set in Civil War days, there is a scene early in the book in which Willie Burke, a Southerner deeply opposed to the institution of slavery, brings a book to Flower, an African-American slave whom he has been teaching to read and write. Flower shares a portion of the journal she has begun to keep, and Willie tells her she is a poet. Seeing Flower’s puzzled expression, Willie goes on to say, “A poet is a person who sees radiance when others only see objects.”
Seems to me an apt description for persons of faith as well—those who see the radiance, the glory, of God in life, when others see only random and unrelated objects. In the beauty of creation, in the gift of one another, in the promise of a new day, in the challenge of a new opportunity—persons of faith are able to see the radiance, the wonder, of God.
Perhaps you remember Mitch Albom’s book Tuesdays with Morrie. Suffering with Lou Gehrig’s disease, a brutal illness attacking the neurological system, Morrie Schwartz nevertheless was one who had learned the art of seeing and experiencing life’s wonder. On one of the Tuesdays that Mitch, Morrie’s former student, spent with Morrie as his old teacher was slowly dying, Morrie asserted that most of us “walk around as if we’re sleepwalking. We don’t really experience the world fully, because we’re half-asleep, doing things we automatically think we have to do.”
Morrie’s words prod us to question how awake you and I are, and subsequently to consider the extent to which our faith leads us beyond sleepwalking. Who among us has not encountered one of those “religious” persons whose belief system appears to be more of a burden than a joy? And who among us has not had our own times when our faith seems little more than going through the motions, times when we’ve yearned for an experience of faith that takes us far beyond the routine to that which is life-enhancing and life-enriching? Have you not had one of those times when you yearned for something more?
I first encountered the writings of Dietrich Bonhoeffer back in my college days, and I remember being struck by his phrase, “religionless Christianity,” which would seem to suggest a significant distinction between faith and religion. “The religious act,” writes Bonhoeffer in Letters and Papers from Prison, “is always something partial; faith is something whole, involving the whole of one’s life. Jesus calls men [and women], not to a new religion, but to life.”
No doubt the writer of 1 Timothy has something similar in mind when urging the Christian community to “take hold of the life that really is life” (6:19). This life that really is life goes far beyond the outward trappings of religious structure; it is so much more than right doctrinal beliefs; it is right action. And even more, it is a life of connectedness with the God who has created us. It is a life of faith in which we place our trust in God and seek to embody the very nature of God in our relationships one with another. Life that really is life, therefore, is so much more than merely embracing a series of rules and regulations, obligations and duties; with the African-American slave, Flower, it is seeing radiance when others see only random objects. It is choosing to live here and now in the light of God’s glory.
At its heart, the gospel message proclaimed by Jesus is an invitation to adopt a new way of seeing and experiencing life—moving beyond sleepwalking to an experience of the life that really is life. It’s a matter of coming to terms with the incredible gift of God’s love, embracing the good news that God holds each one of us as a beloved daughter or son, created in the very image of God. When we begin to take hold of that truth—or more accurately, when we allow that truth to take hold of us—everything becomes new. We begin to see as we’ve never seen before. We see God’s radiance in all of life, when previously we had only seen random objects. We begin to see that love, and love alone, has the power to mend human hearts and human life; that love, and love alone, enables us to find meaning and purpose even in the midst of brokenness and pain; that love, and love alone, is at the very heart of God and of God’s vision for human life.
Surely this is the message that stands at the center of this morning’s Gospel lesson. A religious scribe or scholar approaches Jesus asking, “Which commandment is the first of all?” The scribes, you may remember, served as interpreters of the law, and through the years that interpretation had come to include a host of rules and regulations. Indeed, by the time of Jesus, the rabbis had determined that there were 613 commandments to be followed—365 prohibitions or “Thou shalt nots,” [one for very day of the year!], and 248 positive commands.
At the same time, even with their seemingly endless attention to detail, the scribes were also fascinated by attempts to gather up the totality of the law into a few sentences, and likely it is this quest that leads the scribe to Jesus. It’s as if the scribe is asking Jesus, “What do you hold as the very center, the very heart of faithfulness to God? How are we to live out our faith, day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute?”
The intriguing thing is that Jesus does not offer words that the scribe has not heard before. Indeed, Jesus begins by drawing upon Scripture that could not have been more familiar to his listeners. The words come from Deuteronomy 6, words that have long been labeled the Shema—the Hebrew word for “hear,” the first word of the admonition. “Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God, the Lord is one; you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength” (Mark 12:29-30). Eugene Peterson paraphrases these words in The Message, “Love the Lord God with all your passion and prayer and intelligence and energy.”
For centuries upon centuries, faithful Jews have recited the Shema daily. Indeed, the passage in Deuteronomy 6 continues,
Keep these words that I am commanding you today in your heart. Recite them to your children and talk about them when you are at home and when you are away, when you lie down and when you rise. Bind them as a sign on your hand, fix them as an emblem on your forehead, and write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates (vv. 6-9).The ancient Jews—and some smaller sects of Judaism yet today—took these commandments so seriously that the devout, whenever they prayed, wore on their foreheads and wrists little leather boxes called phylacteries, each containing the words of the Shema. It was a constant reminder of the call to love God before all else. Further, every Jewish home in the days of Jesus would affix to its entryway and beside each door within the house a mezuzah, a small cylindrical box also containing the Shema, yet another reminder of the call to place one’s primary loyalty and trust in God.
And so, when quoting from Deuteronomy 6, Jesus is positioning himself in the heart of Jewish thought and practice. But Jesus is not finished, quoting a second admonition, this time from Leviticus 19. “‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no other commandment greater than these” (Mark 12:31).
Episcopal priest Tilden Edwards in his book Living Simply Through the Day suggests that many of us are tempted to approach our faith with the mindset of a tourist. When we travel, we experience or taste certain aspects of the culture or land we are visiting, but we seldom immerse ourselves fully in that culture. To do so requires a major investment of our time, our energy, our lives—and few of us are eager to make that kind of investment. In much the same way, we are willing to sample particular aspects of faith, but we resist immersing ourselves fully in this matter of loving God and neighbor.
When Jesus shares Scripture with which the scribe—and indeed, all the people of his day—would have been familiar, he is urging them to move beyond a tourist mentality. Jesus offers them—and us—a vision of life in which we take seriously the call to love God and neighbor. Religion alone is not enough, says Jesus. We are called beyond outward practice, beyond mere rules and regulations, to life-changing experience. We are called beyond duty and obligation to life that really is life. We are called to wholehearted love of God and neighbor—two loves, Jesus tells us, that cannot be separated. Indeed, love of neighbor serves as an expression of our love for the God who is revealed to us as the God of all people.
The story is told of one of the saints of old, who in his aging years had begun to walk with a pronounced limp. The king of the land in which he lived, taking pity on the old saint, gifts the old saint with a beautiful horse. But soon after, as the saint is riding down the road, he sees a ragged beggar and gives his new horse away. Word of the saint’s kindness reaches the king, who is far from impressed. Indeed, the king is livid, and the next time he sees the saint he explodes, “I gave you a magnificent horse and you squandered it on a worthless beggar. I should have given you a sorry old mare.” To which the old saint responds, “Ah, dear king, you value the child of a thoroughbred more than you value a child of God.”
We are called to live life from a whole new perspective, to embrace the wonder and radiance of life, to value the sanctity of human life, to love God and neighbor. Arie Brouwer reminds us,
Sisters and brothers, the way of peace, justice, love is the only way. Other things may appear to be true for a moment, but they are a mirage … The resurrection means that those surges of life we feel, those dreams of a better world to which we would like to cling but are not quite certain we dare, those times when we walk the way of life on behalf of someone and feel our own life renewed within us are not illusion but reality.
My friends, let us embrace the life that really is life, loving God and neighbor, celebrating the beauty and radiance of life, walking in the compassionate spirit of Jesus. Amen.
God our Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer, you who are in all of life,
how grateful we are for your good gifts—
gifts of life and love, gifts of hope and relationships, gifts of meaning
and joy in life.
We come before you, God, seeking a deeper taste of the life you have in store for us. We come, yearning to encounter your gracious love, not in mind alone, but in heart and soul as well. Hear us now, O God, as individually we pray for openness to your gracious, challenging, and transforming love.
God, you call us to be the church, to live not for ourselves alone, but in ever-expanding community with sisters and brothers in faith. You call us to reach out beyond ourselves, to be servants to a world in need, reconcilers of a world broken and divided. Yet we confess what you already know to be true. We are sometimes divided and broken ourselves; we do not fully trust one another; we easily become preoccupied with our own concerns and we go our own directions in life.
O God, grant us unity as we seek to live and serve as your people, in the name of Christ. Grant us vision for the living of these days. Hear us now as each one of us prays for unity and vision in the body of Christ.
O God of wholeness, we remember this morning those among us who carry special need for your healing touch. We hold before you…. And hear us now as we pray for healing and wholeness in our own lives as well.
God of compassion and grace, you call us to be peacemakers in a world sorely torn by fear and suspicion, by racism and ignorance, by warfare that never seems to come to a conclusion. Even so, you invite us to experience a peace far greater than anything we can create on our own. You are indeed a God of peace. Grant us strength, courage, passion, and hope as we yearn for and work for and pray for the coming of your reign of peace. Hear us, holy God, as we pray for the coming of your kingdom of peace.
God of all creation, empower us to walk in your ways. Order our steps, that we may love and serve you and our neighbors. In the spirit of Jesus Christ we pray. Amen.