Monday, October 30, 2017

Sermon on Matthew 22.34-46

The Rev. Joseph Peters-Mathews
Proper 25, A; Pentecost +21
St. Joseph-St. John, Lakewood
29 October 2017
Matthew 22.34-46

If you want to do magic,
            you need to practice.

Yesterday as I drove home from convention,
            I was nestled in to my podcasts,
                        like I am driving to and from the church during the week.
One of my weekly podcasts
            is a show I used to listen to on public radio
                        when I was in high school on the way to church.
The show is called To the Best of Our Knowledge
            and it’s a show where long-form interviews
help fuel deep insights into our world.
Keeping up with the release of Stranger Things Season 2 on Netflix
            this week’s episode was called “Even Stranger Things.”
It was, it is,
            an investigation into the paranormal.

One of the interviews
            was with an anthropologist at Stanford
                        who has specialized in religion.
When Tanya Luhrrman was in grad school
            she spent time with some English pagans.
In her study of them,
            she joined them:
                        casting spells, familiarizing herself with Tarot,
and getting to know their experience of reality
not as rational as we might experience.
In the podcast interview she reflects on an unexplained experience
            and says that among the magicking community,
            it’s well known:
                        if you wanted to do magic,
                                    you had to practice.

In today’s gospel text,
            the Pharisees want to know
                        how good of a Jew Jesus is.
“Which commandment in the law is the greatest?”
            they ask.
“You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart,
and with all your soul, and with all your mind.’
This is the greatest and first commandment.”
Obvi.
It came first.
Jesus adds to his answer
            something the Pharisees don’t ask
                        something that’s not verbatim in the Hebrew Scriptures:
                                    And a second is like it:
“You shall love your neighbor as yourself”
But. But.
“On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.”
Everything contained in
            the Law —
how Jews are supposed
to treat one another and foreigners —
            and the Prophets —
                        God’s directions for what to do
                                    when being punished for not keeping the law —
                                    boils down to,
                                                “Love God. Love your neighbor.”

Love God. Love your neighbor.
The Diocese of Ohio
            ran an ad campaign,
                        “Love God. Love your neighbor. Change the world.”
If you want to do magic,
            you need to practice.
I’ll be preaching on the beatitudes next week.
Spoiler alert:
            they're not a list of ways to behave
                        so that you get something back.
They’re promises of what has been done
            because of God becoming flesh.
They are reality that we don’t always see,
            but reality nonetheless.

We may look naïve as Christians
            saying that peacemakers are children of God.
Or we may look callous
            and unloving when peaceful proctors
                        are mowed down by cars
            or unarmed folk
                        are killed by police
                                    and say that peacemakers are the children of God.
But we’re not naïve nor callous.
The gospel and resurrection aren’t magic,
            but they are not the world as we expect
                        or experience it.
Because of the Resurrection,
            we live in a world of what
                        might be, what really is —
even though we can’t see it. Yet
If you want to do magic,
            you need to practice.
When we gather to hear of
            Jesus, him crucified, and resurrected,
                        we practice
                                    doing what seems magic.

Gathering each week in faith
            is rehearsing — it’s practicing —
                        the world we want to see.
You might have noticed I don’t spend a lot of time
            shaking hands at the peace.
I don’t need to shake every hand here
            to long for the day when we’re all at peace with one another
                        while practicing it with those closest to me.
When we pray to be sent out
            to do the work we’ve been given to do
                        we go having been fed by Jesus
                                    who told us to love God and love our neighbors.
When we sing “For everyone born, a place at the table” and
            we make room for everyone at this Holy Table
                        and the tables on Wednesday night
                                    we’re practicing the heavenly banquet at the end of time.
When we sing “And God will delight when we are creators of justice”
            we prepare to change the world
                        by loving God and loving our neighbor.
Those lyrics are practicing the day
when all has been made well
            and all people have been restored
to unity with God and one another
            in Jesus.
If you want to do magic,
            you need to practice.

Our Gospel text today
            is after Jesus has been up on the mountain
                        with Moses — the embodiment of the Law,
                        and Elijah — the embodiment of the Prophets.
Matthew’s gospel is getting closer and closer to the crucifixion.
And when put to the test again,
            Jesus says to love God
                        and love neighbor.
He doesn’t just roll over.
He goes toe to toe with those who accuse him.
Jesus loves God and loves his neighbor,
            which doesn’t just mean being nice.
And he changes the world.

Matthew’s gospel is getting closer and closer to the crucifixion
            and after it the Resurrection.
Because of the Resurrection,
            death has been defeated
                        and reality has been changed —
                                    whether we see or experience it or not.
When we sing,
            “Christ has died.
            Christ is risen.
            Christ will come again,”
                        we state as faithful fact
                                    that there’s more to life than we see.
Believing that
            and working for it,
                        striving to make it real, what we see and know
            may seem naïve
                        or it may seem like magic.
It’s not magic,
            it's hoping that at the last days
                        we experience the joy of God’s eternal kingdom.
It may seem like magic.
If you want to do magic,
            you need to practice.
That’s what we do at this Table —
            and at those.            

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