Grace, Mercy, Love

One thing a year and a half of pandemic has taught us over and over is how interconnected everything is. We don’t need to be as extreme as was Jurassic Park to see the interconnections all around us. For example, I can see that the lockdown increased my landscaper’s depression, which mucked up his business, which left me with weeds and leaves everywhere, which led to the takeover by wildlife of parts of my yard. That’s a mild example mind you. But at last things are approaching a new sort of equilibrium. I have a nicer garden and a recovering lawn and once again am able to enjoy the outdoor space, especially under the star-lit Oregon evening sky. There is grace in the beauty and harmony of creation. And there is mercy in the forgiveness of nature.

Maybe then, there is grace in the equilibrium of life as we regenerate it and mercy too—we are forgiven our early pandemic transgressions the better to let grace fill us with love. Mercy is the action of showing love in the face of pain or adversity. It is a particular form of love in which power differentials shift so that forgiveness replaces the friction caused by the absence of love with the possibility of new love. Love, indeed merciful love, creates more love, which in turn teaches better than any retribution.

The epistle to the Ephesians (4:1-16) reminds us that we must grow up—mature–into loving people (“we must no longer be children … we must grow up in every way”) because the whole body of creation demands mature love, lived out in “humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing one another in love,” bringing grace to all. For how many of us has the pandemic been a “growing up” experience, despite our chronology? For how many of us has the pandemic been a time of mercy and grace?

In John’s Gospel (6:24-35) we have the aftermath of the feeding of five thousand with loaves and fishes. The miracle is followed by Jesus’ attempts to withdraw, to rest and restore. Here there is mutuality in the mercy because Jesus needs the mercy of solitude at the same time that the crowds need the mercy of his explicit love. He preaches that “the bread of God is that which comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.” Of course, he means that he has come to give life to the world. The life he has come to give is the explicit knowledge of the power of love. The message is layered in the examples of grace and mercy, in the metaphor of the “bread of God” which is love, which is the food that endures for eternity. It is in the demonstration of the building of love in the multiplying of the loaves and fishes that we see the true power of God’s love.

The continuing saga of David’s sin (2 Samuel 11:26-12:13a) reveals the truth that all sin against each other is, in essence, sin against God. In his repentance David appeals for mercy and hopes for grace. Psalm 51 reminds us that a clean heart is the result of the receipt of merciful love. It brings us full circle to the mutuality and interconnectedness of creation, to the layered interplay of grace and mercy as pathways to mature love.

Complex theology and scripture lead us to the inevitable conclusion that we are critical players in God’s creation. We are pivotal actors in God’s dominion of love. It is the love we show each other that has the power to heal and restore and regenerate the equilibrium that must now evolve if the pandemic is to be overcome. It is the mature love we must live out that has the power to generate grace through mercy.

It is especially our call as LGBTQ heirs of the dominion of love to play a leading role in this time. It is we, those people who are created in God’s image as people who are identified by our love, who must show all of creation the corners of mercy and the neighborhoods of grace that magnify the love we share. It is we who create logical families with love who can show “humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing one another in love.”

Proper 13 Year B 2021 RCL (2 Samuel 11:26-12:13a; Psalm 51:1-13; Ephesians 4:1-16; John 6:24-35)

©2021 The Rev. Dr. Richard P. Smiraglia. All rights reserved.

I am gentle and humble in heart*

I’m sorry I missed posting last Sunday. I’m in one of those funks that comes at the (now extended) end of each academic year, when I feel like I’ll explode if I have to do one more thing. I’ve taught my last classes now (until September), and if I can relax a bit, it will ease up.

I looked at the propers of course; I was very excited that the first lesson was about how you put a ring in a woman’s nose if you want to marry her, and then (if you follow me on Facebook) you’ll know how excited I got about the place-name Beer La-Hai Roy (which I first mis-read as Beer Lahoy-Roy, which is much more entertaining). Anyway, I was quite disappointed CHT had chosen the OLD old testament lesson, which wasn’t nearly as interesting. (They shouldn’t do that; it’s time to own the new lectionary by actually living and preaching it.)

I think the message in Sunday’s scripture was about putting self aside. How surprising. I think that’s what all of the New Testament is about, of course. If you listened to my Pentecost sermon, you’ll have the image of ego as spiritual circuit-breaker. You can choose; flip the switch to cut yourself off from God ….

So in Paul’s letter to the Romans we unfortunately are dropped into the middle of a circuitous rhetorical argument. I got very excited explaining this to Brad while we were grocery shopping Sunday–Paul is writing in an oral style. That means that these epistles are not intended to be read by literate people. Rather, they are intended to be read out to people who live in an oral society. So yes he says everything three times, that’s how you make sure you make an impression; and if you notice the rhetoric expands each time, so that the point grows more fully explicit over the course of the argument. But as a reader, what you have to do is go to the end, because it explains the beginning. Paul is saying, I mean well, but I keep screwing up, because … well, I just do. But, it doesn’t matter, because I have Christ, who has already redeemed me from my screwups.

Which, of course, is a mirror image (no laggards our lectionary committee) of what Jesus says. Diana’s sermon was great; all about what a yoke is and how it works, and how Jesus is yoked to us, so Jesus can carry the burden. But what I saw in that lesson, is the part where Jesus says “I am gentle and humble in heart.” And this is coupled with his saying “My yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” He means, he does not rely on his own ego, he relies on God, because (of course) he IS God. But, to be God, or to be like God, or to be like Jesus who is God, is to be gentle and humble in heart. Man that’s hard work. But if you can do it, it’s just like keeping that circuit breaker open. The energy of God’s love will flow through you. And that is how all of us, yoked together with Jesus, get through this world.

Sorry, no specific gay message there yet. Maybe it will still come to me later.

*Proper 9 (Genesis 24:34-38, 42-49, 58-67; Psalm 45: 11-18; Romans 7:15-25a; Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30)
©2011 The Rev. Dr. Richard P. Smiraglia. All rights reserved.

Right-eous-ness: Sin, Passion, Holy Week, Faith*

Well, there it all is, right there in the title.

But as usual, I digress. There is, as you know, more or less constant babble in “church-land” about this thing called “sin,” and GLBT people are no strangers to the word. We are told that the love we share is ‘sin,’ or even ‘abomination;’ or we are told that if only we would be chaste (that is, give up most of our reason for living) we would be acceptable as sinners overcoming their sin.

Nonsense.

There is only one “sin” and that is to be separate from God. To “sin” is to separate yourself from the intimate love of the one who created you and whose love for you is so vast that nothing can overwhelm it, not even. That is the message of what theologians call the “Christ-event,” which is shorthand for the life, ministry, trial, crucifixion, death, resurrection and ascension of Jesus of Nazareth, the Christ, the anointed one. He came to save us by teaching us, exactly, how to stop being people of sin, so we could more fully be the people of God.

Probably the most prevalent form of sin is playing God. We all do it and we all do it all the time. It seems like it must be part of the human condition, to judge. We judge and judge and judge. And yet we are not the judge. God is the judge; indeed, God is the only judge. “He talks too much.” “She would be okay if only she dressed better.” “I get so tired of putting up with people like that.” “Get out of my way.” “I get to go first.” Did you know that was judging? It is, because even to have the thought places you in your own head above the other. This was Jesus’ message, that none of us is above another; only God is above all. “Don’t ask/don’t tell.” “Homosexuals are intrinsically disordered.” “Marriage is between a man and a woman.” That is judging too. And it is equally hurtful. All of this judging seeks to place the ‘judge’ in a position of power, and to place the ‘judged’ in a position of inferiority. And that is painful, no matter the circumstances, when you are the one who is being judged.

What is so hard about “love your neighbor as yourself?” Well it requires real sacrifice. What if you really are angry or weary or beaten down? Well, those are not excuses. Loving each other means leaving behind those emotions (notice I did not say not to experience them, I said to leave them behind). It means at every turn to think about what you are doing. No amount of giving up chocolate for Lent can suffice for the powerful action of examining your own motives at every turn and remembering always to uphold the dignity of every human. Every human.

Paul wrote this: “Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself.” This is the message of Holy Week, this is the meaning of Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection. The end of sin, once for all, if only we can learn to walk in love, walk in faith, walk in righteousness. Do you understand that word—righteousness? Try taking it apart. What is “right”? What is “being right” (righteous)? What is “faith (right-eous-ness)”? It is all about being right with God. As Jesus taught us.

Indeed, let the same mind be in you that was in Jesus. Humble yourself in the face of God’s love, empty yourself of foolish, selfish pride, rid your life of the sin of making yourself God. Remember God’s love for you. God made you in God’s own image. Especially if you are gay, remember, God made you in God’s own image. And God is always with you. Think about it–that’s what it means to have faith.

Palm Sunday (Isaiah 50:4-9a; Psalm 31: 9-16; Philippians 2:5-11; Matthew 26:14- 27:66).

©2011 The Rev. Dr. Richard P. Smiraglia. All rights reserved.

Keep Shoveling*

We’ve had lots of snow this week in Philadelphia. I have to laugh while people carry on about it. I spent a substantial part of my youth in Illinois, where this would not even have attracted anyone’s notice. I keep thinking, “it’s winter, it’s supposed to be like this.” Winter is good, because it is part of the cycle of creation. Summer brings heat and plant growth and bugs; winter brings snow and rain and cold, bugs die or hibernate, it is the cleansing cycle. So stop your bellyaching, I want to say.

It has been an even more curious week in the rest of the world. Wow I suppose the revolution in Tunisia was an amazing example of people power. But the spill-over into Egypt is genuinely frightening. It has not been this frightening on a global scale since the period when the Shah was driven from Iran and the world seemed to shift on its political axis. Let’s hope our own government knows what its doing (okay, we know it doesn’t, so let’s all just pray harder about that). Of course, the oppression of gay people in Egypt is well-documented and needs to come to an end. But replacing this regime doesn’t necessarily spell liberation. We’ll have to see. And wonder, we have to wonder, whether this is a kind of political winter. Is this a part of a cleansing cycle?

In the Anglican Communion there is considerable turmoil as well. The primates of the communion are meeting, except of course for the homo-phobes and mysogenists who have refused to attend because Presiding Bishop Jefferts-Schori is attending. David Kato Kisule, a lay leader in the Anglican Church of Uganda who had tried to organize the dialogue called for repeatedly by Lambeth councils about gay life in Africa, David was murdered this week. Let’s just make note that U.S. Secretary of State Hillary Clinton was the first to issue a press release condemning his murder and celebrating his life. The presiding bishop has also done so. At last, today, the Archbishop of Canterbury has done so as well, although let us also note that his press release backed away from acknowledgment of political murder.  No surprise there. Canterbury has rarely been so ill-served.

Am I ranting? I guess. Is this a proper homily? No, that should be clear by now.  This week’s scripture has no fun stories. The Gospel is Jesus preaching the beatitudes—you will be reviled if you love God. That’s always a neat slap in the face coming a few weeks after Christmas. The key this week is the last line in the pericope from Micah:  “and what does the LORD require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?” If that doesn’t sum up the whole of the Gospel I don’t know what does.

Do justice. Love kindness. Walk humbly with God. Easy enough to say. Much harder to do.

People are just sort of typically difficult. I think it is born of defense mechanisms that originally were programmed into our genes to help us flee from predators and protect our offspring. So we are constantly pushing back at each other, and constantly on guard at each other, and constantly ready to spring against each other. Not exactly a prescription for peace. What about all of those people on the streets in Egypt? What are they doing but pushing back, staying on guard, and springing against their oppressors.

But, there is another way to look at it. Maybe they are doing justice. They certainly have lived for decades, maybe even centuries, without justice. Maybe now is the time to do justice. Maybe they are loving kindness, and trying to throw off a regime that prevents both justice and kindness. And maybe, just maybe, they are walking humbly with God for once, instead of giving in to the demands of men. And I do mean men.

I’m not doing much for gay and lesbian uplift this week, am I? I think for that we have to look to the lesson from first Corinthians. Paul writes “has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world?” And a bit later, “God chose what is low and despised in the world, things that are not, to reduce to nothing things that are.” Ahh, that sounds like us. You see, there we are, wise for being oppressed, low and despised maybe, but lifted up by God because of it. As I keep telling you, God made us gay on purpose because the world needs us. We might be oppressed by humans but we are blessed by God for our capacity to love and our capacity to encourage doing justice and loving kindness wherever we go in the world. And when we do that, we are walking humbly with our God.

Okay go shovel your snow. There’s more coming Wednesday so you have a few days to clear out last week’s stuff. Think about it as a life metaphor. As you shovel, think about what in your life needs to be shoveled out of the way. So that when the sun next shines, you can do justice, and love kindness, which is why gay people have been put here. To show the world how to walk humbly with God.

*Fourth Sunday after Epiphany (Micah 6:1-8, Psalm 15, 1 Cor. 1:18-31, Matthew 5:1-12)
©2011. The Rev. Dr. Richard P. Smiraglia. All rights reserved.