St. Thomas Evangelical Lutheran Church
3800 East Third Street
Bloomington, Indiana 47401
(812) 332-5252
Sermon for The Fourteenth Sunday After Pentecost (September 10, 2006)
Liturgical Color: Green
Jeff Schacht
"Convicted Yet Free"
I would like to begin this morning with a cautionary tale about planning and preparation. The Monday after she preached at St. Thomas, Kelli and I met with Lyle to discuss some of the nuts-and-bolts about the Lutheran Campus Ministry—St. Thomas partnership. At one point during our visit, discussion came around to Kelli's and my participation in worship here at St. Thomas.
"Typically," we were told, "the campus pastor has presided over worship the first Sunday of the month and preached the second Sunday of the month."
"No problem," we replied.
Now it is important to note that, not having committed the lectionary to memory, I agreed to this before I looked at the texts for the Sunday I would be preaching. I agreed to this before I saw that the Gospel for today is the story that has led one commentator to remark that Jesus has "left his compassion at the door." Meanwhile the epistle for the day comes again from James. This is the same book of James that Martin Luther is famously reported to have said was "built on straw." Suffice it to say, these are not the texts I would have chosen for my first sermon here.
So the writing process began. Many of you who have spent a reasonable amount of time with me this week (and last week for that matter) know that I have had some struggles moving forward with today's sermon. And it is not for lack of planning and preparation. I dug out my Bible commentaries. I have a healthy stack of papers, dutifully marked up, of all relevant articles pertaining to the epistle. I even went to the library and checked out some new books. The purpose of each of these endeavors was, of course, to find the right inspiration upon which to base a sermon. But for a while it seemed as though it was just not meant to be. I did have a few times this past week where I thought I had finally identified the source of my writer's bloc with the hope that I would be able to get something at least started for this morning. Yet with each new nugget of information or enlightening eye-opener of an article, the writing process continued to bear little fruit. I was at a loss.
As time ticked by I began to think I would be better off settling in alongside Brother Martin, take his dispute with James to heart, and toss James aside. It would have been an easy decision to justify. I have taken the appropriate seminary classes and read enough of Luther's works to have my defense emblazoned on my brain. "Enough with this 'works' business!", I would exclaim. "I'm a good Lutheran...I know that I am justified by grace through faith."
But it simply would not let me go. So as Sunday morning was fast approaching, I did the most frightening thing of all — I went back to the text itself. And when I got there I must confess I received a good bit of scriptural "shock-treatment". You see, the primary reason for my sermon stumblings had little to do with how well I did, or did not, understand the text. No, it became apparent that I was having such a difficult time jump-starting my message for this morning because this text from James knew me all too well.
If you remember last week's reading, you will recall that James implored us to be "doers of the word". Now that is something I could handle. After all, part of my calling to Diaconal Ministry — my calling to a ministry of Word and Service — is (if I may borrow from the ELCA website — www.elca.org/diaconalministry) to "carry public responsibility to speak for the needs of God's world to the church as well as taking God's saving Gospel to the needs of the world through the actions of God's people both individually and collectively." I feel that calling deeply and I make every attempt to take that responsibility seriously. I make myself knowledgeable about events in our community, nation, and world. My antennae perk up when I hear examples of injustice toward the poor and marginalized. I speak up and support efforts to address their grievances. Come to my home and you can even see my file of regular correspondence with my representatives in Congress. Last week's text was not a great challenge. Being that kind of a doer is not a problem for me.
But as his letter continues this week, James, in an effort to make sure that his point hits home, gets into specifics. And hit home it did. "Have you not made distinctions among yourselves, and become judges with evil thoughts?" Ouch!
Yes.
I have.
I do.
A lot!
But I should clarify. My judgments and distinctions are not necessarily those between the rich and the poor as is referenced in James. No, I make distinctions between those who are and are not, in my estimation, doing enough. My intolerance of intolerance and my aggravation at the apathetic causes me to pass judgment, sometimes harshly, on others who I feel need to be more engaged in the world. And, if I am to be completely honest, I must admit that I exhibit extra-ordinary favoritism as we enter this election season because I have my opinion and perspective on the world and its needs (the correct one, of course ☺ ). And all I can ask is 'what, exactly, is wrong with those people who refuse to see it my way?' In this way James readily indicts me: I am far from perfection when it comes to following the "royal law." The fact is that my life is replete with examples where I fail to really love my neighbor as myself. As Mother Teresa once noted, "If you judge people, you have no time to love them."
Fortunately, though, my lousy ability to follow the law does not determine the final outcome in God's reign. No, as a Christian my story is different. My story is marked by a God who came down to meet humanity on the cross. Though I have done nothing to deserve it, God became flesh in Jesus, and in an extreme act of mercy redeemed me from my sinful nature. God could have chosen to end the story with God's judgment and cast out the convicted from the community. But that is not what happened. On the cross God's choice for humanity became clear. God chose to come down to earth to embrace humanity, with all of its faults, and pull each of us closer with the love only God can provide. Mercy, clearly and completely, triumphed over judgment. And the real Good News is that God continues to do this each and every day.
And so today, as every other day, I stand under the cross that symbolizes this grand, merciful act in awe of the new opportunity I have to "get it right." Each time I reflect on these new beginnings in Christ, there is only one way I can respond. God's grace is so amazing that all I can do is say thank you. God's mercy is so remarkable it seems that the only way to give full expression of my gratitude is to go "all in"...doing more than simply paying lip service to doing the correct thing. God's love is so liberating that I am free each and every day to start anew.
For me this means that
I'll pay better attention to that little Luther on my shoulder
admonishing me to interpret my neighbor's actions in the best possible
light. I will try...again...to trust that God is alive and working
in even the small ways. I will make every effort to be gracious
toward others just as God has been gracious to me. Because I know
that God's merciful and gracious action is not just for me, but for
all of humanity. The same Christ that died for me also died for those
with whom I disagree. The same Christ that died for me also died for
each of you who judge, make distinctions or show favoritism. The
Christ that died for us frees us to live and to love according to
God's will in the world. Amen.
