Readings FIRST LESSON The first lesson is based on Meditations of a Hermit by Charles de Foucauld Never think that in lowering yourself you have less power for good. On the contrary, in thus humbling yourself you are imitating me and using the same means that I used. You are walking in my Way, and therefore in the Truth, and you are in the right state to receive Life and impart it to others. The best means for this is always to imitate me. I came to the level of humanity by my Incarnation and Baptism. Be lowly, lowly, humble, humble. Let those that are in high places put themselves last in a spirit of lowliness and service, love … humility, taking the lowest place so long as the Divine Will does not call you to another, for in that case you must obey. Obedience first of all – conformity to the will of God. If you are placed high, then keep yourself in humility of soul as though you were the last; occupy your high position as though you were there only to serve others and to lead them to saving grace, and as if, though you may command them, you are rather serving them, for you command them only with the purpose of sanctifying them. SECOND LESSON The second lesson is from the Gospel of Mark Chapter 7, verses1-8; 14-16; 21-23 “This people honors me with their lips, Jesus then called the crowd again and said to them, ‘Listen to me, all of you, and understand: there is nothing outside a person that by going in can defile, but the things that come out are what defile. Let anyone with ears to hear listen.’ For it is from within, from the human heart, that evil intentions come: fornication, theft, murder, adultery, avarice, wickedness, deceit, licentiousness, envy, slander, pride, folly. All these evil things come from within, and they defile a person.’ |
This Week's Sermon Date: August 30, 2009 Title: Purity of Intent, Clarity of Purpose, Softness of Heart Message Delivered By: Rev. Dr. Joe McMurray I have spoken often about the importance of being truthful in what we say and what we do, both in our personal lives and in our lives in community. I have said that truth-telling is an integral part of church life, possibly the most important component of a successful faith community. If we can’t offer our truths here, where can we offer them? If we cannot accept our truths here, where can we expect to be treated with truthfulness? Which reminds me of a story. A New England preacher had been pastor of her church for ten years. When she first began to Pastor, everything seemed fine. After a few months, she began to witness little bits of deception here and there, but she ignored it as part of human nature. But after a year or two, she noticed more and more that people would say one thing to her about their feelings, yet she would hear from others that different things were being said. So here she was, after ten years, feeling that the problem was out of control. So she came up with a plan. She informed the congregation that beginning the following week, she would begin a 17-week sermon series on the sin of lying. She could almost hear a collective groan from the congregation, which she expected. So she said, “To help you understand the first sermon, I want you to prepare by reading Chapter 17 of Mark’s gospel.” So the following Sunday, she rose to the pulpit. As she began, she asked, “How many of you prepared for today by reading the 17th chapter of Mark as I asked?” She was amazed that every single hand was raised. This was especially satisfying, because now she knew her message would hit home. She smiled broadly and said, “While I’m gratified at your efforts, I must tell you that the Gospel of Mark has only 16 chapters. I will now proceed with my opening sermon on the sin of lying.” Knowing that this congregation doesn’t suffer from any such problem, let’s just skip to the prayer.
___________________________________________________________ Will you pray with me? Thank you, God, for this community of love and caring. With all the individual troubles and problems we face, we still make time to care for one another, to check in with one another, and to pray for one another when we are in need. May we always be mindful of the most important thing we have—love for one another, and love for you in the same ways you have loved us. Let us always make time for patience, compassion and understanding. And may my words and all of our thoughts be filled with honor and praise to you. Amen. Both of our readings today challenge us to look at how we move through the world. They invite us to examine whether we have invested in tradition for the sake of tradition, or whether we have built our foundation upon principles, rather than clichés, about faith. They compel us to distinguish between righteousness and self-righteousness, so that we can fairly assess what it is that propels us to do what we do, think what we think, and act how we act—especially in the ways we treat others who may do things a bit differently than we might choose for ourselves. It’s important for us to ask ourselves these questions. There is nothing so vital for a community of faith that it know its identity and its purpose. The lesson from Mark is a reminder just how much we dislike the Pharisees, and how easy it is to write them off. It seems there was not a good soul among them. But we would be in error to assume that they were not also people of faith, however misguided they were. And though this incident with Jesus tempts us to get caught up in the technicalities or practicalities of what transpired, it’s what lies beneath the law and tradition that determines the motive with which the Pharisees offered their challenge. Scholars agree the Pharisees developed interpretations of the scriptures in the form of rules and regulations, which they intended to clarify the law, at least to their understanding. These opinions became part of the tradition which was to clarify how people were supposed to live. Often, this made things clearer to define, at least for them. At other times, it brought forth contradictions and made things more challenging and difficult to understand. These were interpretations – not parts of the law, per se—but interpretations of it. If you look at our judicial system, the same thing applies. Our country was founded upon the Constitution. Over time, other laws have been implemented to further explain what the Founding Fathers intended, at least in the interpretation of those who passed the laws. Some believe these laws are unchangeable, though various Amendments to the Constitution prove otherwise. As witnessed during the confirmation hearings of Justice Sonia Sotomayor, there are always arguments as to whether the nominee will be one who carries out the law or tries to reinterpret it. We encounter the same thing when we look to the Scriptures to determine what we believe the laws of faith should be. Before doing that, we would be wise to come to an understanding of how the language was written, how many times the scriptures were translated or mistranslated, interpreted or misinterpreted, the use of modern language to describe ancient beliefs, and all of this knowing full well that we can never be certain. Many books that compose the Scriptures were written or changed to influence or motivate people to live or change in a particular way or to develop their spiritual lives in a way that was fitting according to the times. Many believe the Scriptures were divinely inspired. Some believe that those who authored the Scriptures were inspired. Others believe that those who included or excluded books from inclusion in the final text of what we know today to be the Bible, were inspired. Many don’t know what to believe. Yet not having a deeper understanding of the times in which the Scriptures were written, who wrote them and to whom they were written, or what they were trying to convey or accomplish, might be considered a shortcoming, perhaps even a failure on our part in allowing, or better, inviting the Scriptures to become a relevant part of our lives today. Each of these things mentioned are interpretations, possibilities, conjectures—and this is how the various traditions and interpretations over time, especially in the Jewish tradition, left room for further interpretation that was not necessarily bound in fixed or static law. Sometimes we hold onto traditions as if they are law—and as if there were never anything else. Some consider wavering from tradition to be wrong if not sinful, as the Pharisees thought. The principles of tradition can be easily misapplied. For example, I can say tradition is what I say it is based on what I was taught and what I have been told has been handed down for centuries. This is a subjective viewpoint, though it claims to be a historical one. Tradition can be claimed to be what the dominant culture says it is or what that culture believes is most important. When people against same-sex marriage claim that “marriage should be what it has always been” the obvious question becomes, “How far back do you really want to go?” Religious tradition becomes what has been done in the past—right or wrong—based on what that religion claims is God’s proclamation. That depends on the way you understand God. If God is vengeful, that would skew your viewpoint of tradition. If God is loving and all-inclusive, that would skew your interpretation. Tradition often becomes what the powerful insist is absolute, especially for those over whom they have power. When we look at tradition in this way, there is a tendency to overlook what the individual may believe in their own heart or in their conscience as to what is right. We overlook what we’ve learned from those we call family and friends—the knowledge that comes to us through the experiences of human community. What about God’s voice in this? God may be speaking to me through what I understand tradition to be through the lens of my own conscience. God may speak to me through the voices and experiences of others or within events in my own life. We can easily get lost blindly subscribing to tradition or interpretation, and thereby shut out God’s true voice. It doesn’t mean we should ignore the law or the Scriptures—it doesn’t mean tradition is useless and that interpretation is only subjective. Charles Foucauld, in our second reading, holds up a few principles that kept him faithful in a life of solitude and prayer. Obedience to God, humility in dealing with God and with others, and conformity to the will of God. This is what was true for him however he defined obedience, humility, and the will of God. Ultimately, at some level it becomes a very personal interpretation. There are three simple principles that I have held dear since I heard God’s call in my life. These principles have continued to accompany me through my years of discernment and study, and they still inform me in ministry: Purity of Intent, Clarity of Purpose, Softness of Heart. Purity of intent is very simple, but is something we easily tend to overlook. This principle concerns my ultimate intentions, my goals, and the intended outcome of my actions. Often, when I look at results after-the-fact and I trace them back to what my original intention was, there is almost no resemblance to the idea or intention I had when I began. Somewhere along the way, though my intention might have been worthy, I got lost. The purity of the thought or idea or impulse or calling that God placed before me became tainted—it may have started as something I thought God wanted me to do, but morphed into what I wanted to do. Purity of intent means that the original idea or compulsion or calling was a signal that was clear, unencumbered, meaningful – and life-giving. And when I make a commitment to keep that intention pure, it likely means that all along the way, I will have to “check in” with myself that my intention is still clear and that there is a purity about it—a sense that God is still calling the shots—that God is still in the lead. For example, I might feel God is calling me to work with the poor somehow. It may be that I will have to sacrifice something to do this. Since my income is low, I decide to offer my time. I might look for a tutoring program to help underprivileged children, or to help serve meals at a homeless shelter. I am trying to follow what I think God is asking me to do. But I might decide the timing doesn’t fit my schedule; the meal program is on the other side of town, which means I won’t get home in time to watch my favorite program on TV. So instead, I rationalize away the purity of my intention. The purity of my intention has been set aside because of my own selfishness or my unwillingness to be inconvenienced. The outcome is far different than the calling. Clarity of purpose means that in the midst of my calling, I am clear on what God wants me to do. This often is accomplished through prayer, discernment, perhaps even counseling or a conversation with the pastor or a friend. To say, “God wants me to do something in my life” and yet not take the time or use the resources available to discern what that “something” is can be a huge waste of your time – and God’s time. Some people throw themselves into work – anything that’s work – anything that someone might consider to be productive – just so they can say they are doing something. I’m not saying that’s always a bad thing, but often there is something very specific in God’s calling for us. When we don’t take the time to seek the real purpose of God’s call, or to find the clarity of what that call is, we can lose a tremendous opportunity to travel a path that God clearly wants us to take. How often do we keep ourselves so busy we don’t have time to think or to feel or to get in touch with God or each other. Perhaps we are fearful of our emotions. Perhaps we are afraid of death. Perhaps we don’t really trust God the way we say we do. Clarity of purpose means that the actions we take based on the inner calling of what we believe God wants must be well thought out, must be attached to an overall plan or purpose, and must be clear both in head and heart. Otherwise, our purpose is hollow and empty. Softness of heart implies exactly what it means: ensuring that all we do, we do with love—unconditional love—no strings attached. This is the easiest to understand and the hardest to accomplish because we get in our own way. Personally, I know that when I feel inadequate or threatened, or when sarcasm creeps into my conversation, or I lose faith in the abilities of others, I have lost the softness of my heart. I know that when cynicism is present more than it is not, I have lost touch with the softness of my heart. When my own desire outweighs everything else, when I cease to be inconvenienced, when I refuse to participate, when I take offense at what helpful people are trying to tell me in a loving way, then I have lost the softness of my heart. It is easy to be blindsided and distracted by things—things that have nothing to do with the heart of who we are. Yet by keeping these simple principles in mind, we can be sure that we are at least doing our best with the purest intention possible. The result may not be what we hoped it would be. It may not be what others wanted it to be. But with God at the center, with good intention, knowing in what direction we are heading, and with love as our guide, we cannot fail. When these attributes lie at the center of what we claim as our traditions, whatever they may be, we can ensure that we are doing our best to fulfill what God would want of us—what God yearns for and calls us to do. As individuals and as a church, we must look in the mirror and describe what we see there. If we like it, we make our plans from there. If we do not like what we see, we must change it before we plan to move ahead. May we continue to follow where God is leading. Amen. |
Selected Past Sermons