Fullness of Joy

This Gospel reading appointed for this day is one that we often call "difficult" with Jesus’ talk of violence and condemnation. There are passages sprinkled throughout the Gospels that we term the "difficult sayings" of Jesus. It’s an interesting choice of words. The passages are not difficult to understand or interpret. They are difficult for us to accept. They run counter to what we think Jesus should say. The sayings are difficult for us to fit into the persona or role we have defined for Jesus.

We have several options with these so-called difficult sayings. We can discount them. We can enforce our own image of Jesus no matter what Scripture says and shove aside those passages that don’t fit. For example in this morning’s passage we might focus on the bit about the sparrows and quickly pass over the sword talk. I think this is the interpretive approach most of us take most of the time, but it’s not a very faithful approach. We cannot hear God’s voice in Scripture over our own. The Scriptures become just us talking about God, a God really of our own devising. An alternative approach to interpretation might be to take every word in this passage as the unchallenged gospel truth, the literal word for word of God. This approach might lead some people to believe, for example, that God is commanding them to take every single bit of information they hear whispered in private on any and all subjects and proclaim it from the housetops. God commanded me to. Matthew 10:27. This slavish deference to the specific words of Scripture without any interpretation is not the best approach either. As we approach Scripture, I think God wants us to bring our voices, our perspectives into the conversation. Scripture is not just God’s voice; it is not just our voice; it is God’s voice in conversation with ours (in the present tense).

Read, mark, learn and inwardly digest. That’s what Episcopalians do with Scripture. Read, read, read. That’s the beginning. Read Scripture. And mark. For me that means take it seriously… not literally, but very seriously. Take all of Scripture seriously. Learn. Study. Use the tools of historical, linguistic and social academic research to study. And finally, most importantly, inwardly digest. Digest. It’s a vivid image. Take the Scriptures into the bowels of your own life. Digest. Don’t just hear, or discuss, or interpret Scripture. Digest it. Individually, inwardly. It is as much a part of life as the vitamins and minerals and complex carbohydrates that provide energy and nourishment in food. Digest Holy Scripture as nourishment, essential to life. Even the bits that cause indigestion are nourishing.

All of that is a long introduction to urge you to take all of Holy Scripture seriously, especially on a day when we might be tempted not to.

I had little choice but to take this Gospel passage seriously this week. Difficult or not. As an outcome of our vestry retreat this winter, the current vestry has resolved to begin each vestry meeting with Bible study, most commonly the Gospel for the coming Sunday. So you should know that the vestry and I have been living with this Gospel passage since our meeting on Monday night. Inwardly digesting it.

And then, just in case I still might be tempted to put it aside, it came up again at the Wednesday morning Eucharist. It was Luke’s version on Wednesday, rather than Matthew’s. They are very similar, although the price of sparrows varies slightly between Matthew and Luke. In the calendar of lesser feasts and fasts, June 18, Wednesday, was the day we celebrate the life and ministry of Bernard Mizeki. This Gospel was appointed for Bernard Mizeki’s feast day. You probably don’t know his story; I will tell you a little of it later. The most important thing to know about Bernard Mizeki is that he was a martyr.

I envy the martyrs. Not their deaths, of course. Nor are their courage or dedication the focus of my envy. What I envy is the richness of their lives of faith. For them, being full of faith must have been a glorious, wonderful, rewarding, life-giving experience. To know themselves to be God’s beloved children was unimaginably better than finding a pearl of great size and beauty. Claiming their inheritance of God’s goodness was more valuable to them even than clinging to their mortal lives.

Think about martyrs for a bit. Sometimes we think of martyrs as people who chose to die for the faith. Perhaps some saw themselves that way. But "the faith" is not really a cause like freedom or national sovereignty. Faith is not a cause; it is life itself. And faith does not demand the sacrifice of human life for its promotion. The martyrs did not choose to die to promote the faith; they accepted death rather than give up their faith. For them, living in the richness of God’s love was more valuable to them than just living. That’s what I envy. Knowing, experiencing, feeling God’s loving, life-giving presence that fully, that richly.

Think of the martyrs not as individuals who sacrificed their lives for the faith, but as people who simply could not sacrifice their faith when the world forced them to choose between dying faithfully or living faithlessly. It was less a matter of sacrifice and more a simple choice for the option that was more attractive to them. Undoubtedly many of the martyrs were men and women of courage and resolve, but then so are mountain climbers and many of the pioneering scientists of our day. The particular witness the martyrs give to me is the illustration of human beings in this life fully, profoundly sharing in the joy and love and wonder of God. Sometimes they may seem to set an example of faith that "normal" people can never achieve. But consider them rather examples of the possible. My faith life may not yet be as rich as theirs, but they show me that it can be.

Bernard Mizeki knew the richness of the Christian life. He was born around the year 1861 in Portuguese East Africa (now Mozambique). In his early teens, at 12 or 13, he fled his native land and traveled alone to Capetown, South Africa, seeking work. He was befriended by Anglican missionaries, members of the monastic order known as the Cowley Fathers. Their formal name is the Society of Saint John the Evangelist. He entered their school. He was embraced by Christianity and he embraced Christ in return and was baptized. Five years later he volunteered to be a catechist, to teach the faith, at a mission in Mashonaland (in northern present-day Zimbabwe). He taught and cared for the children of that land, sharing with them this wondrous love of God he had come to know. Even in times of danger he simply could not give up the new life he had been given and sought to share. There was an uprising of native people. All mixed up in the uprising were anger at European imperialism, fear of the rising influence of Christianity, and deep distrust of African Christian converts like Mizeki. In 1896, at the age of about 35, 10 years after his baptism, Bernard Mizeki was stabbed to death with a spear outside his hut.

Surely we all grieve for a world where oppression, fear and distrust lead to murder. Sadly, that world is still with us and within us. But the world, the life that Bernard knew as a Christian is also before us, offered to us. This morning, in fact, we initiate a new Christian into this life as we baptize Kara. What a wondrous, overwhelming gift God is giving her this day. In the words of this morning’s collect she will be "set upon the sure foundation of God’s loving-kindness." That is a foundation that, if she clings to it, nothing in this mortal life can shake. Today she will be filled with God’s grace, transformed into a grace-filled person. As are all of us who are baptized.

The martyrs give me hope and joy and confidence to seek more and more in this Christian journey we are on. They witness to the fact that "fullness of joy"… the sure foundation of God’s loving-kindness… the peace that passes understanding… these can be known in this life. I have seen glimpses. The martyrs are the promise to keep seeking more. And the best place to look for more in the life of faith is here, amid the community of the faithful. It was the faithful community of the Cowley fathers who brought Bernard to faith. It is here, among the people who are the church, that our own faith can deepen. It is here that inspiring stories of faith are shared. Here the word of the living God speaks with a lively voice. It is here that unconditional compassion is offered us. And it is here that God’s transforming grace is passed on to us again and again in the sacraments of font and altar. God always has more love to give.

No matter what’s going on in the world around us, no matter what the circumstances of our own lives may be, God offers us a faith-full life that just gets better and better.