October 25th Sermon by The Reverend Loree Reed

Matthew 22: 34–46
Lord, may we hear your voice in the words spoken in your name.

All week long, ever since Jesus entered Jerusalem to the acclaim of the crowds, the Jewish elders have been trying to trap him, to expose him as a fraud. They’ve had it up to here with this young upstart . . . and they’re sick and tired of all the crowds flocking to hear him. Who does he think he is? They’re supposed to be the experts in the Law – but the crowds aren’t listening to them any more. The crowds only have ears for Jesus. So just for once, the Herodians and the Sadducees and the Pharisees agree on something together. They agree that this Jesus has to be stopped. So each day a different group of elders takes a stab at stopping him in his tracks, at discrediting him in front of the crowds.
First the Pharisees and Herodians confront him with a trick question about paying taxes to the Romans. Then the Sadducees come at him with a long, complex question about married life in heaven. And today it’s the Pharisees again, asking him about the greatest commandment in the Law.
And this time they’re sure they will get him, for if there’s anything the Pharisees know it’s the Law – all 613 tenets of it. They study it. They memorize it. They observe it scrupulously. And they’re vigilant to correct anyone who doesn’t observe it as they do – down to the last tiny detail. They do this because they’re convinced that the Law is their entrée to holiness, to righteousness. And doesn’t God say in Leviticus, “Be ye holy, as I am holy?” Surely, they think, by scrupulously following every last tenet of the Law, they’re on the right track.
But Jesus sees something that the Pharisees don’t see. He sees that they’ve missed the forest for the trees. They’ve mistaken legalism for love. They’ve mistaken self–righteousness for the righteousness of a holy God. And the two are poles apart.
For holiness isn’t something we can do for ourselves. Holiness is something that God does in us, as we draw close to him. There’s a wonderful line in Exodus that describes what Moses looked like after he’d spent time talking with God, face to face up on Mount Sinai. In the King James version it reads, “For Moses wist not that the skin of his face shone while he talked with God.”  Moses didn’t realize that as he drew near to God — and God’s shekinah glory — that he was absorbing some of that glory into his own skin, into his very being. But others could see it on his face when he came down from the mountain. And they knew that glory came from God.
For only God is holy, just as only people are human. But when God touches a person . . . or a place . . . or a moment in time you get an unmistakable sense of that holiness. And, chances are, if you’ve ever encountered it – in a person or a place or a moment in time – you’ve never forgotten it.
There’s a chapel at St. Mary’s Episcopal Convent in Sewanee, Tennessee that holds that aura of holiness for me. It’s a modern chapel, off in the woods, maybe half a mile away from the main convent. One whole wall of the place is a glass wall that overlooks a tranquil valley. But it’s not the breathtaking scenery that transforms the place. Nor is it the beautiful pastel banners and hangings of soft, heavy satin, lovingly crafted by the nuns that render the space unforgettable. It’s rather that deep sense of God’s presence that lends that chapel the beauty of holiness. For over many years hundreds of nuns have prayed there, hour after hour and day after day. And there, God has responded to their prayers. He has drawn near to them in their praise, their thanksgiving. And it’s that sense – that sense of God’s Presence – that gives that chapel an aura of deep holiness . . . and makes you want to sink to your knees the moment you enter there.
Or I think of a young woman who was working at The Atlanta Day Shelter for Women and Children while I volunteered there a couple of years ago. I will call her Abigail. She had just graduated from college and wanted to go, eventually, towards a career in the theater. But for a year or so, she had entered a Jesuit program that placed young college graduates in positions of service to the community – where, as they served the poorest of the poor, they were also serving God. And today, what I remember best about her is her quiet, loving ways towards all she encountered. I also remember that telltale glow on her face that told me she’d been spending quality time with God. What I was seeing in her was holiness. And I’ve never forgotten it.
So, had the Pharisees gotten it completely wrong? Is God’s Law useless as a way of approaching him?  No, not at all. God’s Law, God’s Word to us is still in effect and we’re to follow the gist of its guidance whenever we can. For God’s law shows His people the way to walk through this world. And when we follow that way, when we do what the Law asks us to do, we don’t just change our own lives. We also channel God’s love to all who seek it. For the Law is not just about our own relationship with God; it’s also about how we are to treat others around us.
And that was the genius of Jesus’ answer to the Pharisee who asked, “Teacher, which commandment in the Law is the greatest?”   “Love God with everything in you,” Jesus answered. “And love your neighbor as yourself. When you do both you will be following the Law of Love – which is what the Law is all about.”
It sounds simple, but of course it isn’t. For none of us really knows how to love. We learn it anew every day as we draw near to the source.
Amen
 
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