Monday, July 17, 2023

Having Ears to Hear

“[T]his is the one who hears the word and understands it….”.

 

Matthew 13 provides us with a version of the Parable of the Sower. It is one of the best known of Jesus’ parables and scholars believe that at least the first part of it is certainly the authentic Jesus speaking to us. A version of this parable is also found in the Gospels of Mark, Luke and the Sayings Gospel of Thomas. 

 It’s a common tendency to sum up this parable in terms of a line we often see appended to the parables in all the Gospels:

Let anyone with ears listen.

 

They Just Don’t Get It…

There is a sense in this assertion that the good news of Jesus is easy to understand even as it will not be heard by everyone, particularly those unwilling to consider it. But I think this parable has more to say to us than that.

First, there is no small amount of self-serving mentality in that understanding. The implication is that we understand it but everyone else out there just doesn’t – or won’t – get it. You should hear echoes of election, of specialness, of chosenness in these understandings. And consider how readily such notions play out in condescension toward those who do not share our understandings, condescension that easily can become the means of persecuting outsiders when the elect gain political power.          This is a tendency that the Christian church has had to guard against from its very beginning. 

But, I think there is more to consider here than who gets it right and who doesn’t. I always find it interesting to read the portions of the gospels that were omitted by the members of the lectionary committee who designated our weekly readings. In today’s Gospel, the reading from Matthew 13 ends at verse 9 and picks up again in verse 19. There is a lot to consider in those missing verses.

Jesus Doesn’t Start With a Tabula Rasa

For one thing, verse 10 begins with the disciples asking Jesus the obvious question: Why do you instruct people only in parables? It’s a fair question that points toward a very human tendency we all share: a concern for comfort. We want Jesus to cut to the chase, to tell us what we need to know. Underlying this question is the reality that having to wrestle with teachings and reflecting on how they impact our lives is not something most of us are willing to do. If we were to rephrase the disciples’ question, it would be something like this: Jesus, why don’t you just tell us what to believe?

 


But Jesus is not interested in filling empty heads, hearts and souls with his teachings. Unlike John Locke, he does not presume that his listeners are operating out of a tabula rasa, a blank slate, on which he simply has to inscribe eternal truths. It might be a lot easier if that were true. But Jesus recognizes that if he did just tell people what to believe, that would be his faith, not theirs. It would not belong to them in any kind of existential way.

Jesus knows that all of us bring a lifetime of learning, shaping by our families and our culture, and a wide range of personal experiences to the hearing of his words. And how we hear them will often turn on what we bring to that hearing as much as what we encounter there. 

But Matthew cannot just leave things dangling there and so he has Jesus provide us with an explanation for his use of parables which reflects his deep awareness of human nature. Jesus knows that his listeners will respond to his words at the point they find themselves on their spiritual journeys. And that is apparent as we look around ourselves today.



We see those who can only apprehend the parable at a surface level. Matthew’s Jesus says they immediately receive his words with joy but have no depth to draw upon. Their visions will be shallow and brittle, highly defensive when challenged by others. We see that in our own time and place in those who can readily quote scripture but have no real understanding of its context or its implications. 

 

We see others who hear these words through the thorny lens of our consumerist culture whose competing god is comfort and whose ritual is the amassing of ever more material goods, power and status even as they are never able to satisfy us. These are everyday people who mean well and, truth be told, engage in the same behaviors all of us in this culture are trained to see as normal.

But for many there comes a point of decision: which god will you worship? And it should not be surprising that many resist the implications of a gospel whose primary commandment is to love one’s neighbor as oneself – including one’s enemies – rather than seeing them as means or obstacles to the demands we have been trained to believe we are entitled to make. As Jesus said, “the cares of the world and the lure of wealth” readily choke our ability to hear and respond to his calling.

 


Finally Jesus describes those who hear the word and understand it. It is these who are capable of bearing fruit. So it would seem that following the way of Jesus is a privilege limited to a chosen few, a privilege that includes an entitlement to condescend to all the hoi polloi who just don’t get it.

But I’m pretty sure that’s not what Jesus meant.

Different Starting Points to Hear the Parables

Much of my life in academia has been spent in studying human development systems from moral reasoning to cultural evolution to faith development. Two observations guide that study. First, human beings are found at varying levels of development in every culture and across time. There have always been a handful of sages, mystics and prophets who have seen a bigger picture than most of us and there have always been masses of folks who willingly joined mobs like those standing outside Pilate’s palace screaming “His blood be on our heads and those of our children,” something a good Jew would never have said. People are where they are on their spiritual journey. And they can only hear at the level of development they bring to the hearing.

But, second and more importantly, all developmental systems are dynamic. Most of us are capable of growing and becoming throughout our lives. We are not the same people we were as children, adolescents or middle agers, even as we were earlier in our elderhood. We do not think the same way we did then and we build upon our learning and life experiences as we go, forming new understandings that incorporate our previous ways of thinking, leaving behind those aspects which no longer serve us and embracing new aspects which now make sense to us. 


All of us have experienced ourselves at levels of shallowness, lacking depth and rootedness when confronting a reality larger than our immediate lives. And all of us regularly experience the conflict between the deeper values of the gospel and the siren songs of our consumerist culture which threaten to choke our spiritual lives with the cares of the world. 

At some level, every one of us has played all the characters in this parable. We have all been where others are now. And that demands our understanding and our willingness to take others where they are today.

I think Jesus knew that we are all works in progress and he evidences that in his use of parables. He challenged people to think, he didn’t tell them what they must believe. And he knew that his listeners would hear his teachings at whatever level of human development they presented.

But he also knew one other thing.

 

Some Seeds Lies Dormant for Awhile

 

It’s no accident that Jesus uses the symbol of seeds being planted. A popular meme online these days proclaims “We cannot force someone to hear a message they are not ready to receive. But we must never underestimate the power of planting a seed.” 



Jesus knew that even those who were not grasped by his good news immediately had a lifetime to think about what he’d presented them. As Nobel prize author Rabindranath Tagore observed, “The one who plants trees, knowing that he will never sit in their shade, has at least started to understand the meaning of life.”

 Jesus was planting seeds in his listeners. And while they may not immediately sprout, thrive and produce fruit, they were always present, in some cases lying dormant waiting for the right combination of conditions to arrive when they could sprout, take root and grow.  

 


In my personal experience, that has always been true. The wisdom I heard as a kid, as a young adult, in universities and seminaries, wisdom experienced in the countryside of Central America and the halls of Congress, have all proven to have their own timetables. I often experience the famous light bulb moment when I suddenly realize, “Oh, *that’s* what was going on there!”  and realize I am in the debt of those who planted that seed in me. And I suspect many of you have had similar experiences.

 


As I see it, Jesus calls us to exercise patience with those we might otherwise dismiss as superficial, obtuse or even malevolent. And that patience starts with ourselves. The same seed that Jesus planted in us lies within all who have heard his calling. Those seeds wait the right time to sprout and grow to the extent any of us are capable and willing to let them.  But it will require patience, the ability to delay gratification and the willingness to suffer the pain that growth always requires, just as M. Scott Peck taught us in his book The Road Less Travelled.

 

Who Was Your Sower? In Whom Were You the Sower?

 


So ask yourselves. Where along your own spiritual journey do you find yourself this day? Who have been the people who made your way to this milestone possible?  Who were the sowers who planted seeds in your life that may have taken years before they sprouted and grew? To whom do you owe your gratitude for helping you become the person you are today?

Conversely, where in your own life have you been the sower, implanting seeds in the lives of people which may not sprout until long after you are gone? If our lives are the only Gospels some people might ever read, as the apocryphal statement often attributed to St. Francis of Assisi asserts, what Gospel will they encounter in us?

Like Jesus, I have no answers to offer you. But I leave you with those questions to wrestle with, just as Jesus did. And I close with a slightly adapted version of today’s collect:

 


Holy One, we ask you to hear the prayers of your people who call upon you. Grant that we may know and understand what things we ought to do, and also may have grace and power faithfully to accomplish them; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

 A sermon preached Pentecost VII, July 16, 2023, at St. Richard's Episcopal Church, Winter Park, Florida. You may watch the delivery of this sermon at the link provided below beginning at 20:00  

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Zh5nNX2Xmg

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Harry Scott Coverston

Orlando, Florida

frharry@cfl.rr.com

hcoverston.orlando@gmail.com

If the unexamined life is not worth living, surely an unexamined belief system, be it religious or political, is not worth holding. Most things worth considering do not come in sound bites.

Those who believe religion and politics aren't connected don't understand either. – Mahatma Gandhi

For what does G-d require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your G-d?  - Micah 6:8, Hebrew Scriptures

Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world's grief. Do justly, now. Love mercy, now. Walk humbly now. You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it. Rabbi Rami ShapiroWisdom of the Jewish Sages (1993)

   © Harry Coverston, 2023

  ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Monday, July 03, 2023

The Radical Hospitality of Jesus

“For whoever welcomes you welcomes me….” May I speak to you in the name of the G-d who [+] Creates, Redeems and Sustains us? AMEN. 

 


[You may listen to the sermon as preached at the link below starting at 28:00 into the video https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BODn803R7ys&t=2510s ]

 Today’s Gospel comes at the end of a series of hard lessons that Matthew has Jesus teaching. Our lectionary has waded through some difficult teachings in Matthew the past few Sundays and I offer my kudos to the preachers and all of you who have wrestled with them. This week’s lesson picks up where last week’s left off in chapter 10 of Matthew but it is much shorter, and much less complicated, a true blessing to the preacher. And it can all be boiled down to one concept – radical hospitality.

 

Even a Cup of Cold Water….


In today’s Gospel lesson Jesus tells his listeners that those who welcome his followers welcome him. He then goes on to specify a series of rewards those who welcome them may expect. At the end of that list, Jesus notes that “whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones” will be rewarded.

Jesus uses that phrase “the little ones” repeatedly in the gospels. One of the translations is children and Jesus often engages children in his ministry. But it also references those whom his world saw as insignificant, lacking in any kind of dignity or respectability, the ones overlooked, ignored, forgotten. 


Perhaps more importantly, the fact that the little ones here would be grateful for even a cup of cold water suggests they may well have lacked food and water. Starvation of the masses at the bottom of the social pyramid in Jesus world was common. There is a reason that in Luke’s version of the beatitudes, Jesus specifically singles out the hungry for attention: Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled.



Jesus is making a point here. 


Even small acts of kindness make a huge difference. And we may not even be aware of the difference it has made.

 



At the Root of the Way of Jesus

This verse on welcoming strangers illustrates Jesus’ common reference to radical hospitality. While many of us who live in these tense times of culture wars have a visceral reaction to the word radical, it comes from the Latin word radix meaning root. Think radish. Radical hospitality lays at the very root of the way of Jesus who routinely crosses social boundaries in engaging with people in his own world that his society says he should not have any contact with.       

 


His engagement with the Syro-Phoenician woman is a good example. There he allows a woman from outside of his Hebrew tradition to call him on his prejudices: “Even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from the master’s table.” It is a rare example of when Jesus repents, turning away from social prejudices confused with religion, demonstrating a willingness to engage the stranger standing before him on whose face the image of G-d stares back at him.


In his Good Samaritan parable, it is the outsider, the Samaritan, who does the will of G-d, not the religious officials who scrupulously avoid helping the traveler in need.  And it is the hated tax collectors and reviled prostitutes who eat at the table with Jesus, that raises eyebrows among the self-proclaimed righteous.

 

 

Jesus Eats with Tax Collectors and Sinners, Sieger Köder (1925-2013)

It is this radical hospitality that would mark the Jesus movement during his lifetime and long after his death, as this gospel attributed to Matthew, written some 50 years after the crucifixion, reflects. And it is that same radical hospitality to which his followers are called today. 



 ‘Christ the Beggar’ Timothy Schmalz, steps of Santo Spirito Hospital, Vatican City

I want to emphasize three elements of this reading once again. First, it is a teaching on welcoming the stranger. Second, as always, Jesus has a special place in his heart for the little ones. And finally, even the smallest acts of kindness are important. And with those elements in mind, I want to tell you a story.

 



He Led A Difficult Life


Some of you may remember a man who once attended St. Richards named Howard Charles Miller. To meet Charles on the street, you might have presumed he was a homeless man. He wore the cast-off clothing others had given him over the years, clothes he washed in his tub and dried on the line that were often mildewed and smelled when he sweated in them. He also was not terribly conscious of his bodily hygiene. In many ways he was the classic homeless man. Like those of Jesus’ day seen as outside the bounds of social propriety, he was someone most of us would have avoided. 


Charles had lived a life of poverty, becoming legally blind as a child as a result of excess oxygen in the incubator in which he spent the first several months of his life after being born premature. His Mother proved unable to care for her four children and they ended up in the foster care system of New York City. Charles would pass between eight different foster homes in which he would be physically and sexually abused. Eventually, he would connect with the Seventh Day Adventists Church who would send Charles down to Florida to their school in Forest City. When he graduated, he moved to section 8 housing in various locations around Orlando including the Reeves Terrace housing project that lay just down the street from our first home in Orlando in Orwyn Manor.



But there was much more to Charles than his poverty, his handicap and life of suffering. I met him at the Cathedral downtown where we both sang in the choir. Charles blew his music up on a copy machine so he could see it. And he would practice it at home on the piano someone had given him. He was very musically talented.




The medication Charles took for his glaucoma had a slight psychotropic effect. And Charles was not terribly inhibited to begin with. He would say things that made people wonder if he was crazy. But beneath that façade of poverty and craziness was a very fine mind, an intensely compassionate heart and an incredibly deep soul. In all honesty, I think Charles was a genuine old soul. And if there was anything he loved more than anything else, it was the Episcopal Church.

 

That’s where we come into the story.

 



Canary in the Coal Mine


When I returned to Central Florida from seminary I knew I’d never be able to function here under the bishop who had led the charge in the church to keep priests like me from ever standing behind an Episcopal altar. And so from 1997 to 2013, I simply avoided the church. And I was resigned to that part of my life being over forever.

In 2012, Charles was evicted from his Reeve’s Terrance apartment because his inability to see had caused the roach population there to explode and infest the entire complex. Charles moved in with a friend in an apartment on Red Bug Lake Road. Charles knew this man from the Society for a Creative Anachronism, a medieval fair group in which he always played Friar Theo. But I knew that Charles would be lonely, isolated from the city whose bus routes he had memorized and criss-crossed with ease.

 

So I asked Charles, if I take you to St. Richard’s church, will you go with me? He readily agreed. And so we began attending the 10:30 service. It would be my first time regularly attending Episcopal church services in in 16 years.

 

In all fairness, I did not know what to expect. Charles was an affront to the senses on a good day. And his crazy thinking out loud often made people walk away quickly. But I figured, what the heck, let’s give it a try. And so I began bringing Charles to church. We would walk up the aisle together, him holding to my shoulder or me with both hands on his shoulders guiding him ahead to the altar when it was time for communion. And we would leave the sanctuary to attend coffee hour afterward, Charles chatting up the people he knew, me getting him something to drink so he didn’t have to negotiate the table.

 


After a few months, I pulled Charles aside. I saw Charles as my canary in the coal mine. I figured if people treated him well, maybe I could be present there myself. And so I said, “Charles, how do you like attending St. Richards?” He said, “Little Brother, I love St. Richards. They are so nice to me.” I asked if he wanted to continue attending. He said, “Oh, yes, little Brother. I really like this church.”

Charles’ health declined shortly after that Sunday and he ended up being placed in a nursing home. I visited when I could find him.  But the state social services would not keep me apprised of his whereabouts and when he disappeared a few months later, I figured he had died. I found his obituary online. And when I called his social worker, she only said he had requested his remains to be buried at sea. The closest he got was Lake Monroe.

St. Richards held a memorial service for Charles shortly thereafter. His memorial brick is in the northeast corner of the brickwork in front of the altar in the memorial garden. A friend of ours who knew Charles had gone to Lake Monroe and gathered a bottle of water to pour over the brick when we dedicated it. Charles is now with us permanently in our memorial garden. 


A Place to Offer Their Gifts

So why did I tell you this story? Two reasons. First, it was the radical hospitality this parish showed one of the little ones that Jesus loved, Charles Miller, that brought me back to the Episcopal Church after 16 years of absence. But more importantly, this same radical hospitality at St. Richards draws people from all over Central Florida. There are a lot of Charleses and Harrys out there. How many people have found us on the internet and come to this place? How many people have finally found a place to offer their gifts and to receive the gifts of others after months of searching?


Even small acts of kindness make a huge difference. And we may not even be aware of the difference it has made.

 Indeed, we may take this all for granted. We are nice people, just as Charles said. But the radical hospitality that we demonstrate here is the Way of Jesus in action. It provides those who enter these doors the opportunity to encounter G-d’s grace which does change our lives and has the potential to change the whole world. Today you have heard just two examples of that truth. But I assure you, there are many, many others. They are sitting among us and watching us online as we speak. And some have not yet arrived but they are on their way. For that I am very, very thankful.

 


I conclude with a prayer I’ve adapted from our Book of Occasional Services. Let us pray:

Holy One, give us eyes to see the deepest needs of people. Give us hearts full of love for our neighbors as well as for the strangers we meet. Help us understand what it means to love others as we love ourselves. May we welcome the outcast and embrace those who come to our door. And may we continue to follow Jesus’ way of radical hospitality in a world where so many are desperate to find a spiritual home.  AMEN.

 

A sermon preached on Pentecost V, July 2, 2023 at St. Richard’s Episcopal Church, Winter Park, Florida.

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Harry Scott Coverston

Orlando, Florida

frharry@cfl.rr.com

hcoverston.orlando@gmail.com

If the unexamined life is not worth living, surely an unexamined belief system, be it religious or political, is not worth holding. Most things worth considering do not come in sound bites.

Those who believe religion and politics aren't connected don't understand either. – Mahatma Gandhi

For what does G-d require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your G-d?  - Micah 6:8, Hebrew Scriptures

Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world's grief. Do justly, now. Love mercy, now. Walk humbly now. You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it. Rabbi Rami ShapiroWisdom of the Jewish Sages (1993)

   © Harry Coverston, 2023

  ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++