Reflections on the liturgical lessons for Pentecost
20, YEAR A - Proper 22
October
6, 2002
Isaiah
5:1-7; Psalm 80; Matthew 21:33-43
For the past several years, we have
observed the feast of St. Francis of Assisi by celebrating the Blessing of the
Animals on the Sunday nearest October 4.
People brought their pets to be blessed – cats, dogs, hamsters, mice,
rats, lizards, a crab, and many other of God’s creatures. Looking out over the
congregation, I see that today is another successful celebration.
To bless something means calling it
“good.” Blessing our pets is one way to recognize the value of our relationship
with our animal friends. Today, as in the past, I have heard many stories about
your favorite pets that have passed away, pets with serious health problems,
pets with unusual personalities or abilities. You are people who value your
pets greatly. Indeed, your pets have already been blessed by your friendship
and love. So in some way, today we will only be offering to God, who created us
all, a prayer that officially recognizes that blessing.
Your presence here today demonstrates that
the connection between pet and owner can be quite powerful. And that is good.
Today’s appointed lessons from scripture, however, are not about our relationships
with pets; rather, they are about our relationships with the greatest of God’s
creations — humankind. Our dominion over the animals of the earth comes with a
price – we are charged with their well being and their safety. So, too, are we
charged with loving our neighbors as we love ourselves. God entered into our
world as a human child. Jesus became like us in every respect. God became one
of us. God was willing to call us “brothers and sisters.” God expects us to do
no less. Yet, from time to time, we fail to embrace others as fully human and
we fail to call others “brother” and “sister”. Likewise, at times others
somehow fail to see the humanity in us. Human beings are often converted into
machines -- hands into hammers, legs into pistons, hearts into engines. Human beings are sometimes expected to be
nothing more than something to be used and then thrown away when no longer
wanted. Human beings are sometimes treated worse than are other of God’s
creations. Not exactly what God expects of us.
Expectations are among the most powerful
forces we experience in life. Some expectations come from within. Some
expectations come from other people -- parents, spouses, peers, bosses,
friends, children, neighbors, customers, and plenty of others all have their
expectations of us. They expect certain things regarding our speech, our
behavior, our character. (Just ask any acolyte. They recently received a list
of behaviors toward which acolytes should strive.) The most influential
expectations are the ones that go unstated. And the source of some expectations
may be hard to define. We allow the direction of our lives to be determined by
a powerful, yet indefinite, group we call “they”.
But, what are God's expectations of us?
What does the one who made us look for from us? God’s expectations of us appear
uncomplicated on the surface, but can be hard to put into practice. There are
many ways to approach the question of God’s expectations of us and today's
readings point to one such way: God expects from us a harvest, a good and
bountiful harvest of justice, of righteousness and of the fruits of the
kingdom. Now, this does not mean that God expects us to earn our salvation.
That has already happened. Christ has won salvation for us. He has closed the
gap between God and us. Jesus came to be like us in flesh and blood and
suffered like us so that God could be merciful and could help us at our time of
need. God came to us in Jesus to show us that we have value and that we are
worthy of love. What, then, does God expect from us? He expects us to allow
Christ's victory to become fruitful in our lives. God does not want the
tremendous seed planted in us to fail to bear fruit. God looks for the harvest,
both in our hidden depths and in the wide world around us. Life is what happens
while we’re planning other things. Life does not deal with us with the
precision of a machine shop; but, rather, the uncertainties of a vineyard. Our
fruitfulness may take a form very different from what we and others expect. Our
harvest may surprise us. The strangest grapes can conceal the sweetest taste.
Indeed, it may be that our expected treasures will turn to dust, like a corpse
in a gilded casket. But meanwhile, what seemed only dust, the common clay
beneath our feet, may sparkle with glory. Listen again to the words spoken to
Isaiah found in Canticle 10, “ For as rain and snow fall from the heavens and
return not again, but water the earth, bringing forth life and giving growth,
seed for sowing and bread for eating, so is my word that goes forth from my
mouth; it will not return to me empty; but it will accomplish that which I
purposed, and prosper in that for which I sent it.” To adults, the behaviors
expected of a vested acolyte sound reasonable and simple on the surface; but,
to the young, a superhuman effort may be required to put them into practice. We
plant the seeds and look for a great harvest; but we also understand and have
compassion for them in their youthfulness. Likewise, God gives us the
conditions for fruitfulness, but does not provide the specifications. God
understands us and will respond to us.
Let us bless one another for it is good.
Let us pray that God will give us sufficient wisdom to make of our lives a good
and bountiful harvest. The prayer attributed to St. Francis of Assisi is a good
place to start: “Lord, make us
instruments of your peace. Where there is hatred, let us sow love. Where there
is injury, pardon. Where there is discord, union. Where there is doubt, faith.
Where there is despair, hope. Where there is darkness, light. Where there is
sadness, joy. Grant that we may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love. For it is in giving
that we receive, it is in pardoning that we are pardoned, it is in dying that
we are born into eternal life.” Amen.
Jim Barnes