Sunday, November 27, 2011

Advent and Mary: the Mother of Christ and Subversive Radical

Last year I ran across a rewriting of Mary’s Magnificat (Luke 1:46-55) named “The Canticle of the Turning.”  And, on the first day of Advent, I have been thinking about the Blessed Virgin Mary's connection with the season, as well as the season of Advent's connection to the Second Coming of Christ.

During Advent we wait (the watchword of Advent) for Christmas—the Incarnation of God, the First Coming of Christ—and we celebrate that historical event, as well as Christ taking up residence within us.  But Advent is also about waiting for the Second Coming of Christ.

The Second Coming is an uncomfortable subject whenever it comes up, and rightfully so.  People abuse the idea, make predictions that do not come true, and use the Second Coming to scare people into submission.  Yet we say in our Creed and our Eucharistic prayers that “Christ will come again,” so we must have something to say about it.  

I’m not going to set out a prediction, but I will make a bold suggestion.  Advent is the season in which we wait for nothing less than the complete inversion and conversion of the world as we know it.  This is the promise of the Second Coming.

That is quite a claim, but Mary’s Magnificat is a prime example of a celebration of God’s promise to upend the world as we know it.  This promise of God’s decisive work in our world is celebrated in our liturgy.

Mary’s Magnificat is a song which celebrates God’s complete inversion of the world as we know it into what God would want to see.  She sings of God’s promise of mercy; that the proud are scattered, that the mighty are cast down while the lowly are raised, and that the rich are sent away empty and the hungry are fed.  The "Canticle of the Turning" highlights what is in plain sight in the Magnificat, but is somewhat muted in the song’s familiarity and Mary's meek and mild image.
 
To make it plain:  the Magnificat is subversive; and “The Canticle of the Turning” follows Mary’s sentiments with allusions to other biblical images.  Below are the words to the “Canticle of the Turning (sung to the tune of Star of the County Down).” The best version in recording--in my opinion--is the version by Emmaus Way.  I encourage you to read it alongside the Magnificat (Luke 1:46-55) and envision the upending of the world about which Mary sings.
____________________________
My soul cries out with a joyful shout
that the God of my heart is great,
And my spirit sings of the wondrous things
that you bring to the ones who wait.
You fixed your sight on your servant's plight,
and my weakness you did not spurn,
So from east to west shall my name be blest.
Could the world be about to turn?


Refrain
My heart shall sing of the day you bring.
Let the fires of your justice burn.
Wipe away all tears, for the dawn draws near,
and the world is about to turn!


Though I am small, my God, my all,
you work great things in me,
And your mercy will last                          
from the depths of the past
to the end of the age to be.
Your very name puts the proud to shame,
and to those who would for you yearn,
You will show your might,                          
put the strong to flight,
for the world is about to turn.


From the halls of power to the fortress tower,
not a stone will be left on stone.
Let the king beware for your justice tears
ev'ry tyrant from his throne.
The hungry poor shall weep no more,
for the food they can never earn;
There are tables spread, ev'ry mouth be fed,
for the world is about to turn.


Though the nations rage from age to age,
we remember who holds us fast:
God's mercy must deliver us
from the conqueror's crushing grasp.
This saving word that our forebears heard
is the promise which holds us bound,
'Til the spear and rod can be crushed by God,
who is turning the world around.
_________________________


My meditations over Advent will continue on some of these themes.
 

Sunday, November 20, 2011

"Lord, when did we see you?" - Sermon for Christ the King Sunday

Matthew 25: 31-46 The Judgement of the Nations

 ‘When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit on the throne of his glory. All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats, and he will put the sheep at his right hand and the goats at the left. Then the king will say to those at his right hand, “Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.” Then the righteous will answer him, “Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?” And the king will answer them, “Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.” Then he will say to those at his left hand, “You that are accursed, depart from me into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels; for I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not give me clothing, sick and in prison and you did not visit me.” Then they also will answer, “Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not take care of you?” Then he will answer them, “Truly I tell you, just as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.” And these will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life.’


The Parable of the Sheep and the Goats is my favorite passage in all of scripture.  There are 3 reasons this is my favorite passage.  The first reason is that the parable points to my social ethic in a nutshell; a vision of what the church should be to the world.  The second reason is that it speaks to the side of me that strives for perfection--which I know is an unattainable ideal--but it is an ideal I respond to nonetheless.  The third reason this is my favorite parable—and it took me a while to realize this—is that what seems so clear in Matthew because of his matter-of-fact presentation (Goat/sheep, left/right, righteous/unrighteous, etc.) is actually not clear at all.  There is something new to see every time we come to the sacred texts of our tradition, particularly in the hard sayings.  I have come back to this text repeatedly over the years and I have seen something new every time.

So, this is my favorite passage in all of scripture, even though it has this incredibly scary side to it—this specter of everlasting fire and judgment.

It is easy to read this passage and miss the Gospel.  There is Good News, but Matthew means to jolt us, which may mean spiritual whiplash as he confronts us with judgment. But he does not leave us there.  Matthew does not condemn us.

If you were to search for a phrase that defines the essence of the Gospel of Matthew, the phrase “righteous perfection” would do the trick.  In Matthew 5:48, Jesus says “Be perfect, as your Father in Heaven is perfect.”  God is not only perfect, God is considered righteous.  And we see in our Gospel passage that “righteous” and “unrighteous” are words used to distinguish the sheep from the goats.

Righteousness, now there is a heavy term.  It brings up some pretty ugly rhetoric in the world today.  Now, I came from a religious background in which going to Heaven or Hell depended on the way one thought.  To stray from what the group thought and taught meant one’s salvation, one’s righteousness, could be called into question. Righteousness was best defined as the avoidance of sin.  Well, okay, but that isn't all righteousness is. I eventually left that world because I couldn’t keep thinking in the ways I grew up thinking.  In fact, I left Christianity.  But eventually I came back, and when I did, I started looking for what salvation and righteousness meant to me.

It was this passage which spoke to me.  It looked like it was a clear teaching that seemed to be the needed expansion to the theology in which I was raised, and it confirmed my growing sense of what it meant to be faithful.  I came to think that what we believe means nothing if it means we do nothing for those less fortunate than ourselves.  It turns out that in this passage (and in the prophets), that is what righteousness means.  Righteousness also means to live the imperative of the 2nd commandment, to love our neighbors as we love ourselves,

Matthew means to jolt us into this righteousness— into actions that confirm the best of our faith.

At that point I thought I had it figured out.  I thought I could tell the sheep from the goats.  I thought I knew I was a sheep…

But then I thought maybe I was a goat.  Do I do enough?  Am I righteous enough?  Why doesn’t Matthew provide a better checklist, a number of people I’m supposed to feed, clothe, or care for?  That way I can do my part and know when I’m done?

Matthew means to jolt us into righteousness…But not give us a false certainty about ourselves.

I returned to this passage again and I realized that in the passage, neither the sheep, nor the goats, knew how they ended up where they did.  A sense of dread came over me.  I thought I had traded an impossible faith—believing things that I could not in good conscience believe—for an ethical ideal too far to reach.  There was no certainty that I would ever do enough. The upside to this revelation was that I realized that if I could never do enough, how could I judge others?  The freedom from judging others became a relief.  I am not God.  I’m responsible for myself.  I can only search my own heart.

Matthew means to jolt us into righteousness… and take away the ability to claim we know others’ hearts so well.

I returned to the text yet again and noticed that the righteous were not feeding, clothing, and visiting out of fear of Hell.  They did it because of who they were.  They did it because it was right.  It’s as though Matthew and Jesus knew modern theories of moral development.  But this is also spiritual development.  It is a mark of moral and spiritual maturity to do what is right because it is right, not because we are afraid of punishment or looking for a reward.  And it’s an ongoing process that we participate in.  There’s freedom and relief in knowing that.  Jesus calls us to follow God, to be lured to God...with love...not with flinching fear.

Matthew means to jolt us into righteousness... and show us that true righteousness is not the fear of Hell, or the fear of God, or thought of reward, but to do what is right for right’s own sake, which is to love our neighbor as we love God.

The thing that always caught my eye about this passage—even as I was slow to notice these other things-- was the phrase “that which you did for the least of these, you did to me.”  Today is “Christ the King” Sunday, and we have an opportunity to reflect on where we find God in Christ in our own life.  In the Gospel passage, we recognize the King, who tells us that He has actually been with us the whole time.  Christ the king is present in those on the margins, among His people.  The righteous and the unrighteous do not see Christ in the story.  Yet Matthew records that Jesus is telling us where to find him.

Matthew means to jolt us into righteousness by telling us who it is we also see in the faces of the marginalized.

Christ is present in the least of these who we see before us.  How radical is that?  That behind the eyes of all who stand before us, we can catch glimpses of the Divine.  Matthew, when he wrote about the birth of Jesus, points out that the name Immanuel—which applies to Jesus— means ‘God is with us.’[1]

God is with us…and we see that image of God…the image that God created…the image shared by Christ when he walked the earth as God incarnate…the image which the Holy Spirit enlivens daily… that spark of the divine…that image of God… present in those who stand or sit before us hungry, thirsty, ill-clothed, sick, imprisoned.

Matthew means to jolt us into righteousness by telling us that  Christ  is  still  here.

Perhaps something more can be said about the righteous and the unrighteous… Something more than the righteous do merciful things and the unrighteous do not.  My guess is that the righteous find blessing in this life on earth from their experiences with others.  They experience a sense of holiness that comes from conversation with others, from sharing a meal with others, and from trading stories with others.  In doing so the righteous follow the example of Christ who came to serve…not to be served, and who identified with the type of people polite company did not want to keep around.  

In the gospel passage, the righteous built relationships.  They invited people in, spoke to them in visits, broke bread and drank wine together.  The unrighteous, who may have done these things if they knew Jesus would show up, did not bother with relationships. They did not bother with people in need.  Sure, the unrighteous may not have meant anything bad or malicious by the marginalized.  They just did not bother at all.  Matthew is telling us that apathy is not righteous, and in ignoring those on the margins, the unrighteous missed seeing God.

Matthew means to jolt us into righteousness by entering into relationships that matter…relationships that express both love of neighbor and love of God by bringing us together.

It is easy to miss the Gospel in this passage because Matthew means to jolt us into righteousness.  But he does not leave us in fear.  We are not condemned.  Matthew points out to us that our faith is best expressed in works of mercy that matter in this life…that it is a matter of turning one’s heart—which no one else can see and judge—to the point where doing what is right becomes second nature.  The trick is to learn to see God, by loving God and our neighbor.  The refusal of this love is our choice, and is a refusal of relationships that matter.  

We are not in this alone.  God does not leave us to our own devices only to pull the rug from under us.  God is present in us and with us (as in the Holy Eucharist) to help us see the sparks of the divine we may otherwise miss.  We are all God’s own.  And God loves us.  Let us love God back; and let us love our neighbor too.


[1] Matthew 1:22-23