October 31, 2021
/Proper 26
The Rev. Clint Brown
Assist us, O Christ, to know you; and in knowing you to love you; and in loving you to grow increasingly into your likeness. Amen.
Theme: Law and stewardship
Rules. We don’t much like rules in our culture. We like rebels. Our favorite stories are not of men and women who accept what is, but those who dare to color outside the lines. We are a nation founded on rebellion. The men and women who first arrived on our shores were either restless adventurers seeking fame and fortune, or religious dissidents who were seeking a new land in which to practice their faith far from the prying eyes of the authorities. We fought a revolution in order to assert the basic human right to self-govern. Throughout our history, whenever there was trouble, we could always move further West. The grit and independence and audacity of the pioneer is in our DNA. And so it is that we prefer the underdog story, the little guy taking on the big guy, David versus Goliath. If David or Rosa Parks or Robin Hood had listened to the prevailing wisdom, if they had conformed to the rules, in other words, we would never have heard their name. It’s the bad boys and girls who write themselves into history much more often than the teacher’s pet.
So let’s start by granting that rebellion does have its place. And some of the most important work we can do is to question the reasonableness and justice of laws and constraints and to push against them. This is the American genius. But before assuming that freedom requires the casting off of every restraint, let us look to Scripture for a counterpoise. For we read in Scripture that God is actually very interested in Law. God establishes a relationship with Abraham, at the very beginning of our history, based on a contract or covenant. Abraham is expected to do certain things and so is God. Fast forward to the Exodus, and Yahweh again meets his people, making fully explicit that to be his people they must follow a code of conduct, the Ten Commandments, that will define who they are and what they are to do. This presents us with the other side of the law coin. Laws are not always arbitrary, meaningless, or burdensome restraints. The psalmist says that it is in God’s law where true freedom is to be found, and this is because God’s commandments are always purposeful, protecting us, defining for us what fullness of life looks like. Like any set of rules, they are a code for what we value.
And so we come to the great teaching from our Gospel lesson today. A man asks Jesus what are the rules to build a life on – what is essential – what is nonnegotiable. “‘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’…and, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself’” (Mark 12:29-31). Neither commandment was an innovation of Jesus. They are both found in the Torah, in the Book of Deuteronomy and the Book of Leviticus, respectively.[1] The demand these commandments place on us is to give our whole selves. We are to offer our whole selves to God – mind, heart, soul, and strength – and our whole selves to one another. These rules are sacrificial. They are a self-offering. And therefore, as offerings, they are costly. We are to submit ourselves to them at the cost of accepting limitation and constraint. Like Ruth, we allow duty and obligation to take precedence over whatever benefit we might have expected to gain from complete liberty.
And it is worth mentioning, as we are in the season of stewardship, that stewardship follows this exact same sacrificial logic. To pledge 10% of your income – or whatever you finally discern to give during this year’s campaign – to commit to giving anything is an exercise in bumping up against God. “But God” is the steam that makes the wheel of sacrifice turn. I could keep all my money, but God is owed a part. I could stay home on Sunday morning, but God is owed my time. I could ignore all my responsibilities and think only of myself, but God expects more of me. I could vilify the person who voted differently from me for President in the last election, but God loves them just as much as me and requires me to love them in the same way as I love myself. Right now, as you sit in your seat, there could very well be a part of your life that you are withholding from God – from God’s scrutiny or judgment – but God asks for that, too. All these things represent sacrifice, bumping into the reality that God has a claim on our lives.
“Whosoever will come after me, let [them] deny [themselves], and take up [their] cross, and follow me (Mark 8:34, KJV). That’s the final word for Christians. It’s what we’ve signed up for. At our baptism we committed to the cruciform life – the life shaped not by success, not by possessions, not even by the right, we would say, to define ourselves – but by the cross. We submit to Christ’s Lordship because we recognize that we are no longer our own. We were bought with a price (1 Cor 6:20; 7:23). Of course, we chafe a little from time to time under the burden of Christ’s law, of always having to function within its constraints, of having to love our neighbor, live unselfishly, give and give again. Christ’s law is not easy; its demands are great. But for us there is no choice, for we dare not accept the benefits of our Lord’s Passion without also accepting its cost.
[1] Deuteronomy 6:4; Leviticus 19:18