Midweek message from Fr. David
September 30, 2020
A gathering of sermons, reflections, and writings from the ministers at Church of Our Saviour
Last month my daughter, Anna, and I spent three days in the wilderness. Well, it was a pretty tame wilderness. The two of us went backpacking along the Appalachian and Moormans River Trail. It was a fun adventure, but it did have its stresses.
Philippians 1:21-30; Matthew 20:1-16
So in our second reading today, the Apostle Paul finds himself in a win-win situation. It may not seem like it a first glance: he’s in prison when he writes this letter to the Philippians, and his life is in serious jeopardy. He has already suffered a lot, and will suffer even more. But for him, it’s all good: Christ will be exalted now as always in my body, whether by life or death. For me, living is Christ and dying is gain. If I am alive in the flesh, that means fruitful labor for me, and I do not know which I prefer. I am hard pressed between the two: my desire is to depart and be with Christ, for that is far better; but to remain in the flesh is more necessary for you. In other words, “If they kill me, I will be with Christ. If I live, Christ will be with me.” Either way, Paul wins . . . because the love of Christ wins.
Now, we might think that is extraordinary faith, but I am sure Paul would say that's just the way all of us should feel. This is one of the striking features of the kingdom which Jesus proclaims: we all win, no matter what. Before I elaborate on that, though, let me acknowledge how much we resist this very basic truth. And we can gauge that resistance by our own reaction to the Gospel today, the parable of the workers in the vineyard. If we were together in church, I can guarantee you that any number of people would tell me at the end of the service that they don’t understand this Gospel and they don’t like it because it’s not fair. Not everyone works the same hours, but everyone gets paid the same wage. But Jesus says, "The kingdom of heaven is like that.” In his kingdom, everyone wins. But we do resist that. In our jaded and sinful outlook, some people win and other people lose. And often we are super focused on making sure that the losers know they are losers. Such a mindset keeps score and worries about who deserves what.
But such a mindset has no place in the kingdom of heaven, which is a realm of abundance. In the kingdom, there is food enough for all, resources enough for all, grace enough for all, love enough for all. An essential part of our own conversion is accepting that truth. And only then can we fully grasp what Paul is saying in this passage and realize how he speaks directly to us.
For Paul doesn’t agonize over whether he deserves to suffer or not. He doesn’t insist that he’s getting a raw deal. He wants justice to be done, but as far as his own circumstances go, he doesn't worry about fairness. He has a kingdom mindset, and he knows that love will always prevail, even in death. There is really no greater witness to the love of Christ than to see that love everywhere and to choose that love always. If we are truly here to love and be loved, if that’s the central meaning of our life, if that’s what God made us for, then we can always win because we can always love.
That is a crucial message right now. Many, if not all of us, are pandemic weary. We're stressed and exhausted. Daily life is difficult. It’s easy to look at what’s going on in our country and feel discouraged. And it’s tempting to grumble because, of course, none of this is fair. But Jesus can save us from all that. He is always with us, his Spirit is alive in us, and so no matter what, we can always choose love. And when we do, we win. I have moments and whole days when I feel like I am just surviving, but even on my worst days, I can always love. I can always listen, I can always be kind, I can always pray. And when I fail, as I do, I can always seek forgiveness. I can always love. You can always love. And when we choose love, whether we are helping the powerless or lying powerless on our deathbed, we win because it is the love of God Almighty flowing through us. And the awesome thing is that you can win just as much as I can win. There are no losers in the kingdom of heaven, only lovers. We will be happier and closer to Jesus when we finally and fully accept that truth.
Matthew 18:15-20
So I just read the Gospel to you, but did you listen to it? If you did, then you heard the verb which ties it all together: If another member of the church sins against you, go and point out the fault when the two of you are alone. If the member listens to you, you have regained that one. But if you are not listened to, take one or two others along with you, so that every word may be confirmed by the evidence of two or three witnesses. If the member refuses to listen to them, tell it to the church; and if the offender refuses to listen even to the church, let such a one be to you as a Gentile or a tax collector.
I don’t need to point out that in our polarized society, we are not very good at listening. And when people are not listened to, the results are always bad. They turn away in resentment and hatred, or they yell louder, hold demonstrations, stage rallies, light fires, burn buildings. When people are suffering, they will do what it takes to be heard. We so easily shout at each other and shout past each other. This Gospel passage is ancient wisdom that is oh so contemporary: the key to conflict resolution — in a friendship, a marriage, a church, a society — is good communication. People need to listen.
And that begins with us. Parishioners still sometimes get unhappy with me or my sermons, but I remember that seminary fiasco and I always try to listen and hear them. It’s crucial that each of us practices listening to other people, especially when we disagree with them or when their experience is different than ours. To do so, to devote time and energy being present to someone that way, is a genuine act of love: not sentimental love, but real, Christ-like agape. And if it’s true that not listening can hurt, it’s also true that listening well can heal. Early in my ordained ministry, I had a difficult encounter with a parishioner. Right before worship began one Sunday, he came up to me, furious. I had not visited his wife in the hospital; there had been a miscommunication, but he didn't know that. He just knew I had not been there when he needed me. And that morning he was loaded for bear and ripped into me. But by sheer grace, I didn’t get defensive and fight with him. Instead I listened and heard his pain: his wife of over 50 years was dying and in distress; his life was imploding. And rather than trying to justify myself or make myself look good, I just said, “I hear you and I am so sorry that happened. I will visit her today.” And I could see his whole body just relax. And our relationship, which had always been a bit strained, got better from that moment.