I have been thinking a lot this week about the way things look and what they really are: the contradiction between appearances and reality. This is a theme that runs throughout the Bible. Imagine Abraham as he is described in today’s lesson from the Book of Genesis. Here is an aging, childless nomad living out in the desert. When this old man looks around to survey his kingdom, it takes him about 30 seconds His encampment is made up of animal hide tents, a meager assortment of slaves and livestock, his wife and a motley collection of relatives. The tribal system of the ancient Near East bound extended families together for survival purposes. The results could be a mixed bag, as you might imagine your own extended family in such circumstances.
This was Abraham’s world, a little band of folks scratching out a living in an arid land, moving from place to place for grazing and food. One day God appears and announces that Abraham and his offspring are going to become a great nation. His descendants will be more numerous than the stars in the night sky. This was incomprehensible to Abraham. Perhaps he would have understood the words of the modern poet, Wendell Berry who says, Be joyful, though you have considered all the facts.
If you keep reading, you will find that his wife Sarah found God’s plan hilarious and was laughing behind a tent flap. But read further and discover that God’s promises did come true: the unexpected child, the beginning of a new faith and religious heritage, and millions of Jewish and Christian descendants. In spite of all the evidence to the contrary, God’s promises to Abraham were fulfilled. From the Book of Genesis through the accounts of Christ’s ministry and resurrection, contradiction between appearance and reality abounds in our scriptures.
I often experience contradiction as I explore the city of Boston. As a newcomer, I am enchanted by this city. I love coming into Copley Square and seeing the life that surrounds us here. I like riding the T and observing the mixture of races and cultures that make up our city. On a nice day I walk through the Public Garden and across Boston Common and wind through the old streets around the State House. What a rich history, what a beautiful city! It delights me and fills me with energy.
And yet, there are other streets in this city where I do not walk, other neighborhoods that are stalked by fear and violence. The residents are afraid to go outside for fear of stray bullets. Their energy is sapped by hunger. Hunger is on the rise among children in Massachusetts and we watch them fall behind in school. It is hard to learn on an empty stomach, even in a community with the most prestigious educational institutions in the country. I move through this beautiful city and I think about its contradictions. Despite the rich history and beautiful public spaces, there is suffering in Boston.
Contradictions between appearances and reality also exist in the Church. Our monumental buildings suggest that our faith and practice are fixed and unchanging. Yet changes in the Episcopal Church are making headlines these days as we live in conflict with others in the Anglican Communion. Our church now includes all people in its life and leadership, regardless of sexual orientation and gender. It turns out that revelation is not static but ongoing, even in the 2,000 year old institution of the church. We may look old and venerable, but at our best we are always being renewed through the power of the Holy Spirit. We now encounter resistance from Anglican churches in other cultures and I do not expect this tension to be resolved anytime soon. I do strongly believe that our inclusiveness is consistent with Christ’s teachings in the gospel.
Jesus Christ also lived in a world of contradictions, especially in the city. Jerusalem had a rich religious heritage and magnificent Temple buildings. It was a place of pilgrimage for Jesus and his Jewish contemporaries. Going up to Jerusalem was the highlight of the year for Jews from all the surrounding areas. But Jerusalem was also a place of intrigue and military oppression. The Romans ruled and the local hierarchy was dominated by tyrants like Herod. They took their share off the top of a brutal taxation system while the people lived with violence and poverty. The religious leaders struggled to keep their institutions going in the midst of rising political instability. It was a dangerous time everywhere, especially in Jerusalem.
Despite all of this, the gospel tells us that Jesus set his face towards Jerusalem. The tension and the crowds grew the closer he got to the city gates. This was no casual journey as Jesus traveled to the heart of his people. And what he would find there was contradiction. The people who welcomed him with palms and hosannas would later clamor for his death. He would see the famous view of the city but it would be from a cross, the site of his execution. The ritual prayers would not be sung in the temple but at his grave. Perhaps Jesus suspected all of this when he stopped on the road between Galilee and the city and cried out with great longing, O Jerusalem, Jerusalem... how often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings...
Can’t you just see that big mama hen with her wings outstretched, gathering in her scurrying chicks? Do you also see that by opening her wings she exposes her own heart in her feathered chest? Can you imagine Christ like this, ferociously maternal and vulnerable? ...How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing.
Jesus looked at the human community with all of its contradictions and his impulse was to embrace it. Do you hear that? Jesus did not reject human contradiction, he sought to gather it and protect us from ourselves. In the same way, God looks at us and knows that things are not always as they appear. God can see the contradictions all over this city and all through our lives. And God offers to enfold and gather us for protection. But there is a catch in this homey barnyard metaphor: just as the hen must gather every single one of her chicks, God will not condone our leaving anyone behind. How often God desires to gather humanity as a hen gathers her brood and we are not willing. Our rejection and ignorance of one another is a rejection of God’s generosity, and that is the biggest contradiction of all.
Jesus turned his face to Jerusalem and kept walking toward that beautiful city, with all of its stark contrasts. It turns out that he was also moving into the darkest corners of the human heart. If we follow him, we will go there, too. He leads us through the beauty, and the pain, and the empathy, and the suffering, and the poverty, and the hope, and the things that we fear. When we follow Jesus, we do not sidestep or transcend the rawness of human experience. Following Christ is a journey through contradictions that leads us straight to the heart of God.
I have been thinking a lot this week about how appearance and reality can be different, especially in the eyes of God: how an old man and woman in the Book of Genesis spawn a nation; how an innocent man in the first century is executed by an empire that was renown for its sophisticated legal system; how that same man’s power endures long after the empire was destroyed.
I think about these things as I walk across Copley Square to and from this church. The wind is fierce in the breezeway created by the Hancock building here. It appears to be a dynamic created by human architecture. But I suspect that there is another wind at work in this great public space, too. It is a different reality. Imagine the pull of air drawn by a great wing that sweeps across us here on this square, back and forth every day. Even now, God desires to gather us together as a hen gathers her brood under her wing. This time, let us pray that we are willing.
AMEN |
