18th
Sunday after Pentecost; Yr. A, October 12, 2014
Exodus 32:1-14; Psalm 106:1-6, 19-23; Philippians
4:1-9; Matthew 22:1-14
Sermon
preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church
Both our reading from the Hebrew scripture and the Gospel
include celebrations. The Exodus passage
is the story of the golden calf. Moses
is up on the mountain receiving the ten commandments, and the people get tired
of waiting for him to return. Which
really means, they got tired of waiting on God.
So to satisfy their own impatience, Aaron, the priest in their midst
tells them all to hand over their gold.
He takes it and he fashions it into a golden calf. Then after the people proclaimed the calf
their god, Aaron built an altar before it, and led their worship of it. Theses were newly liberated people. Freed from harsh servitude in Egypt. Shouldn’t the priest, of all people, have a
clue? Shouldn’t Aaron have encouraged
the people to keep faith, to be patient, to pray? But he doesn’t. Instead, he leads them astray.
In the gospel, Matthew retells the third in a series of
parables aimed at the chief priests and Pharisees. In this story, a king gives a wedding banquet
for his son. He sends out servants to
call in all those who have been invited, and none will come. They all have something better to do when the
call comes in. They “make light of it”,
and some beat and kill the servant messengers.
It is likely that Matthew sees the chief priests as the invited guests
who refuse to come. Like Aaron, they
should know better. They should come and
worship God, the king, and show respect for the king’s son by attending his
wedding banquet. But they don’t. One goes back to his farm, another to his
business.
I hate to tell you this, but the clergy in these stories
just aren’t getting God’s message. In
both cases, the priests aren’t focused on God’s word or will. Aaron is more concerned with the
dissatisfaction and unrest among the people.
He wants to fix the situation, calm a few nerves, reduce the anxiety …
so Aaron creates a new god for them all … at a time when they really need to
look to God for strength and security.
In the gospel, the chief priests are the ones who Matthew sees rejecting
the invitation of the king. They of all
people should recognize God revealed in Jesus, but they don’t. Instead they try to trap him, and strip him
of authority with trickery. Eventually
these leaders collaborate with the Roman authorities to have Jesus arrested and
finally killed. They just don’t see.
This doesn’t seem to bode well for people like me. We priests are often in the business of
sustaining the status quo. Too easily,
we become caretakers of the church, rather caretakers of the faithful. I have to cut Aaron and the chief priests a
little bit of a break. They were leading
their flock during periods of immense transition.
Aaron was
a priest during the time of the exodus.
The Israelites were learning what it meant to be free outside the walls
of the Egyptian brickyards. This new
life was drastically different. They
were wandering in a desert with food provided only on a daily basis. There was nothing about their situation that
felt secure or certain. It’s likely that
those on this exodus journey were a pretty motley crew, some Israelites yes …
but also a collection of others who took advantage of a mass breakout and
decided to go along. Some knew the God
of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, but many did not. Survival in the wilderness was tenuous and
demanded that you put your whole trust in God, a God whose face only Moses
could see and live. God had offered the
people freedom.
In our
gospel story, the Jewish leadership was facing an equally unsettling
situation. The Jews were a minority
religion and they had established a tenuous relationship with the Roman
government. Without that, the Jewish
leaders believed that their very existence would be threatened. Then along comes Jesus. A man from a nowhere place who starts
encouraging people to buck the dominant system, and actually to trash the
temple system that was at the heart of maintaining the status quo. Jesus was the new temple, the new king, the
new law. He was ushering in a whole new
way of living with God. God, through
Jesus, was offering the people freedom.
We are
also in the midst of a great transition.
We’re all thinking that something is on the way, something we can’t
quite see clearly yet. Aaron and the
chief priests couldn’t seem to discern how God was working in their
context. Both the liberation from Egypt
and the coming of Christ were moments in time to celebrate, to celebrate
freedom for God. The Israelites were freed from Pharaoh’s
domination and the early Christians were being freed from Temple injustices,
but leaders in both cases responded out of fear. Aaron created a new God, and the chief
priests went after Jesus with a vengeance.
Liberation creates space that’s uncomfortable I don’t always know what to
do with it. I’m sure those Israelites
had a lot of time on their hands. They
were used to working in the brickyards and the construction sites and fields of
Pharaoh. What were they supposed to do
in the desert?
I’m
sure those first century Jews were a bit confused too. If the temple wasn’t the center of their
religious life anymore, what did the temple mean? How were they to set themselves apart as a
people of God? How were they supposed to
live into their covenant and be God’s people?
Phyllis
Tickle says we’re in a similar kind of transition. She calls it a new reformation, something
that she thinks happens about every five hundred years in the church. Priests and bishops are having the same
trouble today that Aaron and the chief priests had in their day. We don’t know exactly what God is doing
either. If your ordained leadership
doesn’t have the answers, what are you all supposed to do? I think we’re meant to listen to God
together. To be patient and perhaps even
willing to take risks. We might end up
with a golden calf or two along the way, but I have no doubt God will let us
know.
I sent
an e-mail out to the list-serv after last week’s service in the parish hall
because it felt different to me.
Different in a good way. Moving
down there was a little work, but it was also a little refreshing. It felt good to do something that was
different, yet familiar. Parents and
kids seemed to be a little less stressed about running around in the back. The seats were full because the space was smaller
and the choir sat with us. To me, it
felt more like worshiping together. In a different space, we had the freedom to
create something new.
I love
our sanctuary space. Several years ago
we worked hard to repair it and spruce it up.
I feel good when I walk in here.
But on Sundays, we sit all over this big space. I’m up here, and the choir’s over there, and
the kids sit there, and I bet you all have a comfortable place that has been
yours for quite a while. We’re not as
big as we were fifty years ago, when the space was likely filled. We are what we are. How can we come together again in this space?
What makes our worship feel meaningful in a way that we really do feel
nourished to go out into the world rejoicing in the power of the Spirit? Accepting the invitation to walk in is risky
business, but worth it … because we have been freed for God through Christ in
the Spirit. Our time here can reflect
that freedom.
Amen
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