October 29, 2017
Leviticus 19.1-2, 15-18; Matthew 22.34-46
+ Today, for us Episcopalians, is the Sunday before All Saints
Sunday. Here at St. Stephen’s, it’s the Sunday we put the names of our departed
loved ones on the list, to be prayed for at Wednesday night’s Requiem Mass. It is the Sunday we put out mementos of our
departed loved ones on the altar in the Narthex, bedecked with saints relics
and statues.
But, for a few of us, this particular Sunday may have a bit more
relevance. Today, as you may or may not
know, is the Sunday in the Lutheran churches in which the 500th
anniversary of the Reformation is celebrated. Since some of us are former Lutherans, we may
feel a bit nostalgic today, as we hear “A Mighty Fortress” and all those heart
Lutheran hymns we heard this morning.
For the rest of us, we all understand that we are a religious
minority in this area. We are surrounded by Lutherans and Lutheran churches in
this area. Its influence is deep here.
I don’t talk about it much, but I myself was Lutheran until I was
fifteen years old, when I was received into the Roman Catholic Church. I
actually stopped identifying as a Lutheran around age 13. I didn’t leave the Lutheran Church in anger. I
wasn’t frustrated by any policies or dogmas in the Lutheran Church. I never
heard a sermon in that church preached against homosexuality or women. In fact,
I don’t remember anything being controversial being preached there.
Later, when I heard people tell me their horror stories of the
churches in which they were raised, I found myself thankful that I never
experienced any of that as a child in my Lutheran church. In fact, I really liked the Lutheran pastor
who confirmed me. I admired him greatly and mourned him deeply when he died. I still know many of the people in that
congregation. And I felt very much at
home in that congregation.
My reasons for leaving the Lutheran Church were simply reasons of
conviction. And maybe a bit of weird teenage rebellion. I was drawn to Catholicism, and eventually to
the Episcopal Church. While other
teenagers dabbled with atheism and Satanism, my rebellion was becoming a
Catholic. And let me tell you, that got
a reaction in my family probably the other two rebellions would not have
received.
And there are differences between us and the Lutheran Church, as
any of you who were Lutheran, know full well. Because that, after all, is why
you’re here.
There is no doubt that the Reformation changed Europe and the
world 500 years ago. Without it, the
Episcopal Church would not be what it is today.
So, we are thankful today. But, having said all that, I realize in
very profound ways, that I am no longer a Lutheran on many levels. It has been
a long time, after all.
And I am quite honest about this: I am no Lutheran preacher. I
have never claimed to be. And no matter how hard I might try, I will never be
one. Once, when I preached at my
parents’ Lutheran congregation shortly
after I was ordained to the priesthood, I was told afterward that I didn’t
preach long enough. I guess that’s true.
When I preach, I am not very complex. I have no fancy theological agenda behind any
of my preaching. My message is very
consistent—for better or for worse. It
is a message I heard in that Lutheran church growing up, that has stayed with
me all these years. My message is this,
in case you’ve been totally asleep during my sermons over the past nine years
and may have missed it:
The theme of almost every sermon is: love.
Again and again, it’s love. And there aren’t too many Sundays that
go by that I do not reference the summary of the Law that we find in our Gospel
reading for today. For me, this is what
it’s all about. This Gospel reading
isn’t just a summary of the Law. It is a summary of Christianity itself.
This is what we must do as Christians. Plain. And seemingly simply (but maybe not so
simple).
Now, I once was scolded a bit—this was at another congregation,
mind you—for preaching too much about love.
“You always preach about love,” this parishioner told me.
But the fact remains that this is essentially all Jesus preached
about as well. The gist of everything
Jesus said or did was based solidly in what we hear him summarize in this
morning’s Gospel. In fact, every sermon and parable he preached, was
based on what we heard today. Every
miracle, and even that final act on the cross, was based solidly on what we
heard this morning.
In today’s Gospel Jesus is clear. Which commandment is the greatest? he is
asked.
And he replied:
“You shall love the Lord
your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.’
This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like it: ‘You shall
love you neighbor as yourself.’ On these two commandments hang all the law and
the prophets.”
He can’t get any clearer, as far as I’m concerned. And it is these two commands, both of which
are solidly and unashamedly based in love, that he again and again professes.
In his day, Jesus, like all good, pious Jewish men, was required
to the pray this scripture, called the Shema, every day. The Shema is the prayer all Jewish men were
required to pray each day on waking. The
Shema is the first Commandment:
“You shall love the Lord
your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.”
Every day of his adult life, Jesus prayed this prayer. It was the basis of his entire spiritual life.
And this commandment, along with the
commandment to love others, is the basis for his entire teaching.
When he says, “On these two commandments hang all the law and the
prophets,” we can also add the Gospel. The
Gospel, along with the law and the prophets, is based on these commandments. And so is our entire faith as Christians.
I don’t think I can get any clearer on this. I hear so often from
Christians—not a whole lot of Episcopalians, but other Christians—that their
faith as Christian is based solely on accepting Jesus Christ as their personal
Lord and Savior. I have no problem with
that in actuality.
Our Baptismal promises in the Book of Common Prayer are based on
accepting Jesus as our Savior as well. In
the Baptismal promises asked of a person about to be baptized (or their parents
and godparents if they are too young) is that all-important question:
“Do you turn to Jesus Christ and accept him as your Savior?”
And, of course, we do.
But, for Jesus, the real heart of the matter is not in such
professions of faith. He never commands
us to make such statements for salvation.
What he does command us to do again and again, to love.
To love God.
And to love one another.
And, as you’ve heard me say, Sunday after Sunday from this pulpit,
when we fail to love, we fail to be Christians. Any time we fail in these two commandments, we
fail to be Christians. We turn away from
following Jesus and we turn away from all that it means to be a Christian. I
think the organized Church sometimes misses this fact. And we, as Christians, sometimes miss this
fact as well.
We sometimes think: maybe this is too simple.
Love God, love others. It’s
too simple.
Well, first of all: it is not. It is not easy to love God. It is not easy to love Someone who is, for the
most part, invisible to us. And, as we
struggle with all the time in our lives, it is not easy to love others. I don’t need to tell anyone here this morning
that is sometimes very hard to love others. So, it is not too simple.
But we still want something more occasionally. And when we do, we find ourselves making
confessional statements, like putting a statement such as accepting Jesus
Christ as our personal Lord and Savior as the be-all and end-all of our faith. By the way, it is not the be-all and end-all
of our faith. And nowhere does he
command us to accept him as our personal Lord and Savior, though I hope we all
do strive personally to do so.
We also fall into the trap of depending on things like dogma, or
the Law, or Canons (or Church Laws), or any of the other rules that define it
all for us specifically. Certainly, when
we start doing so, we enter that territory that Martin Luther rebelled against
and felt needed to be reformed. The fact is, all of those things, confessional
statements, dogmas, church laws or any of those complicated rules, are
pointless if they are not based on these two laws of loving God and loving
others.
If anyone wants to know what Christians believe and who we are,
these two Laws are it. They define us. They guide and direct us. And when we fail to do them, let me tell you, they
convict us and they judge us.
So, yes, I know I am guilty of preaching the same thing all the
time. But I do unashamedly. I do so proudly. I do so without any sense of remorse.
Here I stand.
Because all I am doing when I preach about loving God and loving
others, is what Jesus did. I am following Jesus when I preach those laws. But
more importantly than preaching about them, I hope we can all strive to live
those laws in our lives. I try to in my
own life as Christian and as a priest. I try to help others to do that as well.
So, let us love unashamedly. Let us love without limit. Let us love radically.
As our reading from Leviticus tells us, “let us be holy” because our God is holy.
Let the love that guides us and directs and, yes judges us and
convicts us, be the one motivating factor in our lives. Let it be the foundation and basis of each
ministry we are called to do. Let love—that radical, all-encompassing,
all-accepting love—be what drives us. And let us—each of us—be known to
everyone by our love.
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