The Book of Deuteronomy is essentially a farewell address by Moses to the Hebrew people preached to them on the plains of Moab shortly before they entered the promised land. Knowing that he would not be going with them, I can imagine Moses would have had a lot to say to those whiny, stiff necked people who clearly tried his patience over the years, even as they did still stick with him through all the ups and downs of their journey. The first part of Moses’ address, some describe it as three separate sermons, recaps the journey of the Hebrew people through the wilderness. The second section focuses on the laws and statutes that were developed along the way. The third section is largely one of comfort. Indeed in the part of the address that we hear today, Moses assures the people that the commandments they’re to follow aren’t beyond their reach, not found on a mountaintop nor on the other side of the sea, but rather “the word is very near to you; it is in your mouth and in your heart for you to observe.”
I can imagine that would have been very comforting to a people who had been given not just the Ten Commandments, but an extraordinarily complex set of laws and statutes during their time in the wilderness. Indeed over time it seems like trying to follow all those laws became an end unto itself, with little time or energy left for focusing on actually living a righteous life. This was one of the main issues Jesus addressed during his ministry. Aware that the emphasis on the law was not helping people grow closer to God or each other, Jesus offered a different approach. He dared to suggest that being faithful to Yahweh was more about compassion than compliance, more about love than law. He even went so far as to violate laws when the situation called for it. He ate with tax collectors and sinners, a clear violation of the purity laws, he healed on the sabbath and allowed his followers to glean food from the fields oh the sabbath as well, so that they would have something to eat. Jesus talked to, and even socialized with women. While this was all likely very pleasing to ordinary people who’d never been able to obey all the laws anyway, I suspect it was very troubling for people who could see value in what Jesus was teaching but who at the same time had tried very hard to follow the law.
This tension between following the rules and being compassionate is not one confined to Biblical times. This has been a struggle throughout history. The reality is societies change, traditions evolve, matters that were once crystal clear become less so with the passage of time. We Anglicans have been known since the time of Elizabeth I as the Via Media, the Middle Way. Remember that at the time Elizabeth ascended the throne England was on the verge of civil war between those who wanted to return to the Roman Catholic Church and those who wanted the Church of England to remain the autonomous Protestant Church that Henry VIII and James VI had tried to establish. In what is known as the Elizabethan Settlement, it was agreed that the Church of England would take the best from both sides and make that blended approach its basis going forward. Centuries later I remember well all the couples who came to my dad back in the fifties and sixties wanting to be married in the Episcopal Church because one member of the couple was Roman Catholic and the other was not. In those days a Roman Catholic could not get married to a non-Catholic in the church. So the Episcopal Church, with its vestments, liturgy, albeit in English but still, and ordained clergy was close enough to the Roman tradition to satisfy the Catholic member of the couple, while the other person was just happy not to have to either become a Roman Catholic or be forced to get married in the sacristy and promise to raise their children as Roman Catholics.
Over the past thirty or so years it’s been interesting to me to observe the mixed response the world seems to have to the Episcopal Church. On the one hand we’re often seen as a denomination stuck the past. “How many Episcopalians does it take to change a lightbulb? the joke goes. “Five. One to change the bulb and four to stand around and talk about how wonderful the old one was.” This of course is the world’s way of mocking the fact that we as a Church have held on to many traditions that other denominations have long since cast aside. From our vestments to our liturgical calendar to our emphasis on the apostolic succession of our bishops, we are seen by many as being behind the times in both our style of worship as well as our focus on our spiritual connection to the early church. At the same time, some of those same people who see us as hopelessly old fashioned, regard us as far too ready to change with the times. They consider us as wishy washy, having no principles because we’re willing to change our rules. It was in the 1990’s that Presiding Bishop Edmond Browning made it the overriding focus of his episcopacy that there would be no outcasts in the Episcopal Church. His emphasis in those days was on our gay and lesbian brothers and sisters. I attended hearings at the 1997 General Convention, which marked the end of Bishop Browning’s term as Presiding Bishop, regarding the development of rites for blessing same sex unions. Ultimately, in a vote by orders, the resolution to begin that process failed by one vote in each order, but the ball was rolling. By 2003 the Anglican Church of Canada was blessing same sex unions and in that year the Episcopal Church ordained and consecrated The Rt. Rev. Gene Robinson as our first openly gay bishop of the Diocese of Vermont. Bishop Robinson and his partner wore bullet proof vests to that ordination, which is to say this was a highly controversial event. Indeed, the huffing and puffing that ensued both in other parts of the Anglican Communion as well as here in the Episcopal Church was really quite something. There was a move to make us and the Church of Canada sort of second class members of the Anglican Communion, which was talked about and talked about until I remember realizing by about 2012 that the idea had simply gone away. Here at home a handful of dioceses withdrew from the Episcopal Church, but only a few, and in every case the dioceses were reconstituted and within a few years were heathy thriving dioceses of the church once again. Fast forward to 2015 when we were in session at the General Convention in Salt Lake City where we were going to vote on approving rites for blessing same sex unions which had been approved for trial use three years earlier, when the President of the House of Deputies announced that she had just received word that the Supreme Court had legalized same sex marriage. People cheered, people cried, and we stood and sang the Doxology. It still gives me chills to think about it. Of course, not everyone was happy, not everyone cheered but that’s another of the traits of the Episcopal Church of which I am most proud. For the most part, we manage to hold together, we manage to kneel together at the altar rail week in and week out, even when we have diametrically opposing views regarding the issues of the day. That is incredibly important and increasingly rare in today’s world. It also makes today’s Gospel reading as relevant as it could possibly be.
Picture the scene in today’s Gospel reading. A lawyer stands up to test Jesus. What do I have to do to inherit eternal life he wants to know. What does the Bible say, Jesus responds. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind, and your neighbor as yourself, replies the lawyer. You’ve got it says Jesus. Do that and you’re good to go. Ah, but that’s not good enough for the lawyer. Wanting to justify himself, I love that wording, he asks, but who is my neighbor? Now you know what that guy was thinking, because the thought is alive in everyone of us: just how far does this love your neighbor business extend? Are you talking about other Christians? Surely not the jerk down the street who lets his dog poop in my yard! Clearly the lawyer wanted parameters because he knew he didn’t treat everyone in a loving manner, and we want parameters too, for the very same reason.
But Jesus didn’t let the lawyer, or us, off the hook. In the parable that he told by way of answering the lawyer two representatives of Jewish law, a priest and a Levite, pass by on the other side from where the wounded man lay in the road, lest they risk contamination by touching his probably bleeding body. This of course is an excellent example of how compliance can be the diametric opposite of compassion. Then Jesus used not a shepherd or some other lower class Jew which would have been challenging enough for the lawyer, and probably very pleasing to many of the other listeners, but a Samaritan, a member of a people regarded very disparagingly by the Jews, as the hero of the story. The Samaritan not only treated the man where he found him, but took him to an inn and promised to pay for his care until he was well. The implication would have been clear to the lawyer, as it is to us. No, we don’t get to make exceptions. Yes, we really are supposed to love everyone.
Now I’m not stupid, and I am human. As committed as I am to the Great Commandment, as hard as I try to live into our Baptismal Covenant, I know I don’t treat everyone I encounter in an equally loving manner. But I have noticed over the years, if I just allow myself to be open to it, situations arise when the invisible barrier that may have existed between me and someone else disappears. It’s suddenly just gone, so that going forward we’re able to connect in ways we may never have before. As often as not this happens when we find ourselves working together on something. One of my most poignant memories from the five General Conventions I attended is from the morning after the 2012 Convention approved for trial use those rites for blessing same sex unions. When we arrived on the floor of the House of Deputies that morning only one member of the eight person deputation from the Diocese of South Carolina was seated at their table; the rest of the deputation had left the Convention. All the members of the other deputations that had voted against the resolution, however, were there. Indeed a priest who had spoken quite eloquently against approving the resolution at the hearing earlier in the week was sitting in the visitors area right near the Oregon deputation. She had evidently given up her seat to an alternate that morning. During a break I went over to her, her name was also Sharon, and said, ”I’m so glad you’re here. I know the vote yesterday must have been really hard for you.” Her eyes filled up as I continued saying, “I’m from a,” and she filled in, “rather liberal diocese,” and I continued “yes, but I’m good friends with a priest from our diocese whose perspective on this is exactly the same as yours. I absolutely believe,” I told her,” that even if we disagree on this particular issue, we can still minister together.” She took my hand, smiled and said, “Thank you.” I truly believed what I told that other Sharon that day, and I believe it still. Amen.
