Saturday, February 19, 2022

7th Sunday in Ordinary Time


“Love those who love you.”
“Do good to those who do good to you.”
“Lend money to those from whom 
you expect repayment.”
This all sounds like pretty good advice.
In fact, it sounds pretty much like the way
that we ordinarily expect the world to work,
and in the context of our world 
it seems a recipe for success.

But what if there is something 
deeply, tragically wrong with our world?
And what if this deep, tragic wrongness
is something so pervasive 
that we have become blind to it,
that we have come to see it
not as wrong but as normal?
It seems normal to us that the world is divided
into loved ones and enemies, friends and foes.
It seems normal that doing good should be reserved 
for those on the friend side of the line.
It seems normal that you should never give
without expecting to get something in return.

But what if the world’s division 
into friends and foes, us and them,
is not the way that the world has to be?
What if the system of scarcity, which makes us fear
that if we cannot balance giving and getting
we will not have what we need to survive,
is something different from 
how God intends the world to run?
What if a life of conflict and striving 
is not what we were made for?

We Christians have a word 
for the wrongness of the world:
we call it “sin.”
And we Christians have a term 
for how this wrongness came about:
we call it “the fall.”
And we Christian have a name
for God’s way 
of revealing and healing this wrongness:
we call it “Jesus Christ.”

On some level, of course, 
we already know the wrongness of the world.
We feel it in our restlessness,
our sense that the conflict and striving
that pervades our lives
chips away at our joy,
our sense that we were made for something else,
something we glimpse in those rare moments
when enemies are reconciled
or anonymous acts of kindness are done.
But the wrongness of the world,
and the possibility for it being set right,
is revealed in its fullness 
in the appearing among us of Jesus, 
God’s Word made flesh.

The capacity of his teachings
to simultaneously shock and attract us
shows both how skewed our vision has become
and how we retain within us a hope 
that things might be otherwise.
His command that we turn the other cheek
seems both a recipe for getting beaten up,
and a hint that perhaps we do not need
to be ruled by reactionary retaliation.
His command that we give to those who ask
seems both a guarantee that we will end up penniless,
and a promise of God’s unfailing care for us.
His command to stop judging people
seems both to ensure that bad people 
will get away with stuff,
and to express the hope that perhaps 
God will show mercy to us as well.

Jesus does not simply preach these things.
He lives them out:
giving generously of his divine healing power
to those who can give him nothing in return,
trusting entirely in the generosity of God,
calling out to his Father to forgive his crucifiers.
He is the wrongness of our world set right,
the end of conflict and striving,
and in his resurrection he shows that even death,
our greatest and most relentless enemy,
is overcome by the power of divine love.

This is what Paul means 
when he speaks of Jesus as “the last Adam.”
We have a legacy of conflict, striving, and death,
inherited it from our first human ancestors,
symbolized by Adam, that creature of dust 
who turned from the God who gave him life.
But Jesus Christ is the new Adam,
the one who turns us back to God,
the one from whom we inherit 
peace in place of conflict,
trust in place of striving,
life in place of death.
Just as we have borne the image of the first Adam
in our blind repetition of the world’s wrongness,
now we are called to bear the image of Jesus Christ.

The constant message that our world bombards us with
is that mercy and forbearance have no place,
that you just need to grab all you can get,
and the winner is the one with the most stuff when they die.
Russian soldiers are massed on the border of Ukraine.
We have averaged a murder a day so far this year in Baltimore.
Our national politics have become extraordinarily ugly
and these ugly politics reproduce themselves within our Church.
And in the midst of a world gone so wrong,
we, by the grace of God, have been given the priceless gift
of bearing the image of Jesus Christ, the last Adam,
of being witnesses to God’s kingdom
by loving our enemies,
by doing good to those who hate us,
by giving to those who can give us nothing in return.
It seems at times an impossible, even foolish, way to live,
but it is the path Jesus himself walked,
and we can do all things through Christ 
who strengthens us to bear his image.
So we pray that God would give us that strength
and we pray that God would have mercy on us all.