Revised Common Lectionary for the Third Sunday in Lent, Year B: Exodus 20:1-17; Psalm 19; 1 Corinthians 1:18-25; and John 2:13-22
The third of the questions asked by a parishioner that I would like to tackle is “What does ‘social justice’ mean in the Episcopal Church?” Social justice generally refers to the idea of creating a society or institution that is based on the principles of equality and solidarity, that understands and values human rights, and that “strive[s] for justice and peace among all people, and respect[s] the dignity of every human being.” (The Book of Common Prayer, 1979, page 305)
In the Episcopal Church, we believe that our Christian faith has both a personal (or individual) dimension and a corporate (or social) dimension; we believe our call to the Christian life has both a contemplative (or prayerful) dimension and a public (or active) dimension. We refer to this as a “cruciform” (or cross-shaped) understanding of the faith, for as St. Paul said, “We proclaim Christ crucified.” In the one dimension, the cross of Christ has a vertical member which symbolizes our personal, individual, contemplative, and prayerful relationship with our God and creator. But the cross also has a horizontal member illustrating the corporate, social, public, and active ministry to which we are all called. A lovely prayer mission in the Daily Office of Morning Prayer recalls this horizontal dimension as we pray to our Savior:
Lord Jesus Christ, you stretched out your arms of love on the hard wood of the cross that everyone might come within the reach of your saving embrace: So clothe us in your Spirit that we, reaching forth our hands in love, may bring those who do not know you to the knowledge and love of you; for the honor of your Name. Amen.
And today’s Gospel lesson, Jesus cleansing the Temple, exemplifies the active, social justice ministry to which he calls his church. Throughout his ministry on earth, the Son of God did not simply call individuals to be good persons: he insisted that the systems and institutions of society were to be reformed so that they would reflect the values inherent in the Law of Moses (from which come the Ten Commandments we read in today’s lesson from the Hebrew Scriptures) and the word of God spoken through the Prophets.
Jesus began his public ministry by reading these words from the Prophet Isaiah:
The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor. (Luke 4:18-19)
To bring good news to the poor, to release captives, to let the oppressed go free … these words herald and describe systemic and institutional changes in society, not simply a change for some individuals but for all of God’s children.
Jesus’ ministry and the Christian call to social justice are informed by the word of God spoken through Moses who ordered the Hebrews:
You shall not abuse any widow or orphan. If you do abuse them, when they cry out to me, I will surely heed their cry. (Exodus 22:22-23)
Jesus recognized and we recognize that widows and orphans have been and are still abused in many places around the world, and as the people of God we must heed their cries and reform the systems and institutions which permit, and often even inflict, that abuse. This is Christian social justice.
Jesus’ ministry and the Christian call to social justice are informed by the word of God spoken to the leaders of God’s people:
You shall take no bribe, for a bribe blinds the officials, and subverts the cause of those who are in the right. You shall not oppress a resident alien; you know the heart of an alien, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt. (Exodus 23:8-9)
Jesus knew and we know that the leaders of nations do take bribes (and “kickbacks” and “earmarks” and “political contributions”), that political influence is peddled in many ways, that resident aliens are oppressed in this and many countries, and that the causes of those in the right are often subverted. As the people of God, we must stand for changes in power structures to prevent these abuses. This is Christian social justice.
The Christian call to social justice is informed by Jesus’ own words promised to those who are faithful:
I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me. (Matthew 25:35-36)
We see in these words a call not only to feed those who are now hungry, but to prevent others from going without food. We are called not only to give drink to those who are now parched, but to prevent others from becoming thirsty. We are called not only to cover those who are now unclothed, but to prevent others from becoming naked. We know all too well that despite Christ’s mother’s song, the powerful have not yet been brought down from their thrones; the lowly have not yet been lifted up; the hungry have not yet been filled with good things; and the rich have yet to be sent away empty. We, the people of God, are called to accomplish these things. This is Christian social justice.
Our catechism (beginning on page 845 of The Book of Common Prayer) informs us that the mission of the church “is to restore all people to unity with God and each other” and that the church “pursues its mission as it prays and worships, proclaims the Gospel, and promotes justice, peace, and love.” Furthermore, “The church carries out its mission through the ministry of all its members.” You will recall from the baptismal covenant that our ministry, individually and collectively, is to “seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving [our] neighbor as [our]self” and to “strive for justice and peace among all people, … respect[ing] the dignity of every human being.” (BCP, page 305) This is Christian social justice.
For nearly the past half-century, the Episcopal Church, together with our brothers and sisters throughout the Anglican Communion, has recommended that all our members and parishes measure themselves from time to time against certain core Christian priorities, which are called the Five Marks of Mission:
- To proclaim the good news of the Kingdom of God;
- To teach, baptize and nurture new believers;
- To respond to human need by loving service;
- To seek to transform the unjust structures of society; and
- To strive to safe-guard the integrity of creation and to sustain and renew the life of the earth.
In pursuit of the last two of those “marks” (which summarize social justice ministry), the Episcopal Church in 2006 committed itself to work with others in the Anglican Communion, with other churches and religious bodies in ecumenical and interfaith cooperation, with secular non-governmental organizations, and with our government and those of other nations to accomplish as quickly as possible eight “Millenium Development Goals” set out by the United Nations:
- Eradicate extreme poverty and hunger
- Achieve universal primary education
- Promote gender equality and empower women
- Reduce child mortality rates
- Improve maternal health
- Combat HIV/AIDS, malaria, and other diseases
- Ensure environmental sustainability
- Develop a global partnership for development
In pursuit of the gospel mandate, the Episcopal Church has dedicated itself to these goals. This is Christian social justice.
The Anglican Marks of Mission and the Episcopal Church’s commitment to the UN’s Millennium Development Goals are our church’s way of putting into positive action the last seven of the Ten Commandments. We understand these to form a sort of basic contract listing some fairly fundamental expectations of God with regard to social justice in the global human community. Ultimately, Jesus would summarize them in the two great commandments, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength …. You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” (Mark 12:30-31) In today’s epistle lesson, St. Paul reminds us that this contract is beyond the wisdom of the world, and that it is our responsibility to fulfill these divine expectations without sacrificing the spirit of the Law which, as foolish as it may sound to the wise of this world, is to build up the whole human community. This is the goal of Christian social justice.
In Jesus’ time, the religious, political, and social institutions had forgotten this. In place of the fair and equitable financial system anticipated in the laws set out in Exodus and Leviticus, Jesus found the bankers sitting in the Temple courtyard taking advantage of the poor, exchanging Roman drachmas for temple sheckles at outrageous conversion rates and pocketing unacceptably high profits. He exercised an active social justice ministry and threw them out. Instead of priests and Levites aiding the people in their relationship to God, he found the sellers of sacrificial animals preying on their sorrows, cheapening their thanksgivings, and profiting from their earnest effort to be faithful. He exercised an active social justice ministry and drove them away.
Jesus cleansing the Temple exemplifies the active, social justice ministry to which God calls the church. Throughout his ministry on earth, the Son of God did not simply call individuals to be good persons: he insisted that the systems and institutions of society were to be reformed so that they would reflect the values inherent in the Law and the word of God. Because of human frailty, because of human greed, because of human failure, the systems and institutions of society are always in need of reform and, thus, the church is always called to an active ministry of social justice.
Let us pray:
Almighty God, who created us in your image: Grant us grace fearlessly to contend against evil and to make no peace with oppression; and, that we may reverently use our freedom, help us to employ it in the maintenance of justice in our communities and among the nations, to the glory of your holy Name; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen. (BCP, page 246)
To our ancient ancestors, living water was the very essence of chaos. The oceans and seas, their waves, swift flowing rivers, waterfalls, cataracts, even peaceful ponds and lakes were considered chaotic and dangerous; they were very difficult even for the gods to control. The gods did battle with them; when the gods had won, creation followed. For example, in Egyptian mythology in the beginning there was only the swirling watery chaos, called Nu; out of the chaotic waters rose the sungod, Atum (later identified as Ra or Kephri), who subdued the waters and created the first dry land. We find echoes of this in Genesis 1 where “the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters.” (v. 2) God subdues the waters by first separating them and then gathering those under the firmament into seas. The Lord makes reference to this creation myth when he answers Job: “Who shut in the sea with doors when it burst out from the womb? – when I made the clouds its garment, and thick darkness its swaddling band, and prescribed bounds for it, and set bars and doors, and said, ‘Thus far shall you come, and no farther, and here shall your proud waves be stopped’?” (Job 38:8-11) Perhaps the disciples had this in mind when, boating on the Galilean lake with Jesus during a storm, they asked “Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?” (Mark 4:41) Here in Psalm 93, God wins definitively, establishing world order, which “shall never be moved” (v. 1); God’s order cannot be changed or defeated. God rules over all of creation, even the forces of chaos. Each of us is subject to the chaos of feelings and emotions, our subjective reactions to a particular event. These reactions are characterized by an absence of reasoning; they are rambunctious, even primal. It is not uncommon to hear someone say, “I can’t trust my feelings” or “My emotions got away from me.” Sometimes these intense feelings are accompanied by physical and mental activity. Emotions are impulses to act, the instant plans for handling life that evolution has instilled in us, and in any of us these primal, instinctive reactions can become chaotic and uncontrolled. Psalm 93 assures us that God is mightier than even these most powerful and unpredictably chaotic forces. God is the perfect outlet for our emotions. When you, or your family, or your friends can’t handle your emotions, God can. As The Book of Common Prayer‘s Collect for the Third Sunday in Lent assures us, God can “keep us both outwardly in our bodies and inwardly in our souls, that we may be defended from all adversities which may happen to the body, and from all evil thoughts which may assault and hurt the soul,” especially our chaotic emotions.
This is a troubling text. Paul seems to be telling slaves to remain in their slavery, not to be concerned about their condition of servitude; this would say to others that they should not struggle for the liberation of slaves. Of course, Paul believed the end of this world was right around the corner and such earthly conditions as slavery or mastership would be abolished in his lifetime. He was wrong … so how does his text speak to us today? ~ Paul’s counsel to remain “in whatever condition you were called” should not be used as a justification for not seeking better circumstances for oneself and an improvement of one’s circumstances. Indeed, it is debatable that Paul even gave that advice to stay in one’s “condition” or “situation”. It is rather more probable, it seems to me, that his counsel is to remain steadfast in one’s conversion (Greek kalesis = calling) to Christian faith and brotherhood resisting the pressures of one’s prior status – slave or master, Jew or Greek, married or single, whatever that condition or status may be – and this might even mean a change in that circumstance. I am so persuaded by the arguments of S. Scott Bartchy, Professor of Christian Origins and the History of Religion, Department of History, UCLA. He has examined how the Greek word kalesis meaning “calling”, “invitation” or “summons” – correctly translated as vocatione by St. Jerome in the Vulgate and as “calling” (or “called”) in the Authorized Version – came to be translated in later English versions as “condition”. His surprising (and probably correct) conclusion is to blame Martin Luther and the influence of his German translation! Bartchy has argued that it is certain that Paul did not teach enslaved Christ-followers to “stay in slavery.” Rather, he exhorted them (and us) to “remain in the calling in Christ by which you were called.” Quite the opposite of a passive quietism accepting of unjust social institutions, Paul’s exhortation is to an active faith repenting our own “blindness to human need and suffering and our indifference to injustice and cruelty.” (From the American BCP’s Ash Wednesday Litany of Penitence, p. 268)
Psalm 73 begins with a confession of green-eyed envy; the Psalmist acknowledges that he slipped and nearly stumbled away from faith because of his envy of the prosperous who “suffer no pain” and whose “bodies are sleek and sound.” This psalm brings in to sharp focus a complex and perplexing problems for persons of faith: the prosperity of the wicked and the suffering of the righteous. The Psalmist saw that “the wicked, always at ease, increase their wealth;” the wicked seem to be totally self-reliant and autonomous people. They seem not to need God; they are able to take care of themselves. It bothered the Psalmist that their lifestyle apparently works! Thus, he concluded that the attempt to lead a moral life is absolutely pointless; he despaired that it was in vain that he kept his heart clean and “washed my hands in innocence.” However, upon entering the temple he came to understand that the wicked wealthy will “come to destruction, come to an end, and perish from terror!” And so he comes to sing of his reliance on God, his strength and his portion for ever. At the end of the psalm, he vows to “speak of all God’s works in the gates of the city of Zion.” ~ In our society with such a deep division between rich and poor, between “the 1%” and the middle class, this psalm’s cries of envy and despair, I’m sure, speak to many, but I hope its reliance on the God of eternity, the God of hope speaks louder. “Whom have I in heaven but you? And having you I desire nothing upon earth.” The Psalmist, entering the sanctuary and changing his point of view from the worldly to the eternal, was led to see that no matter how things looked here in the temporal world his trust and confidence in God was the greatest gift of God’s grace, greater than any earthly wealth he could contemplate. A change of perspective, so that one views life through the lens of eternity, brings clarity of vision, both of the world around us and of our call to ministry in this world. It does not permit us to become embittered with green-eyed envy nor to sink into despair, but neither does it encourage us to accept wealth inequality and injustice with a promise of “pie in the sky by-and-by.” Rather, it admonishes us to “speak of all God’s works in the gates of the city.” And as St. Thomas Aquinas reminds us, “Mercy and truth are necessarily found in all God’s works” and “justice must exist in all God’s works.” (Summa Theologica, Question 21, Article 4) Psalm 73 in the Daily Office Lectionary during Lent echoes the exhortation of the Prophet Micah: “He has told you, O mortal, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?” (Micah 6:8)
When I think about religion and trees, I remember that Evelyn Underhill, writing not about this parable but about St. Paul’s prayer in the Letter to the Ephesians that the church might be “rooted and grounded in love” (Eph. 3:17), wrote: “By contemplative prayer, I do not mean any abnormal sort of activity or experience, still less a deliberate and artificial passivity. I just mean the sort of prayer that aims at God in and for Himself and not for any of His gifts whatever, and more and more profoundly rests in Him alone: what St. Paul, that vivid realist, meant by being rooted and grounded. When I read those words, I always think of a forest tree. First of the bright and changeful tuft that shows itself to the world and produces the immense spread of boughs and branches, the succession and abundance of leaves and fruits. Then of the vast unseen system of roots, perhaps greater than the branches in strength and extent, with their tenacious attachments, their fan-like system of delicate filaments and their power of silently absorbing food. On that profound and secret life the whole growth and stability of the tree depend. It is rooted and grounded in a hidden world.” (Quoted in Radiance: A Spiritual Memoir of Evelyn Underhill, Bernard Bangley, ed. [Brewster, MA: Paraclete Press, 2004]). We see the tree, its trunk, its branches, its leaves; below in the soil, however, there is a huge unseen network of roots. Love and prayer are the earth which nourishes these roots. Referring Ms. Underhill’s metaphor to Jesus’ parable of the mustard seed, and understanding (as one interpretation of the image) the “kingdom of God” analogized to the tree which grows from it to be the church, we are left with the unmistakeable inference that it is our prayer life which provides the fruitful ground in which the church must grow. I am reminded of a story told by Martha Grace Reese in her book Unbinding the Gospel (Atlanta, GA: Chalice Press, 2008) that when she was consulted by a church growth committee and asked what they should do, she told them to do nothing but pray for at least three months. And I remember another church leader saying, “This year’s level of church growth cannot be sustained on last year’s level of prayer.” Active, sustained, community-wide prayer is an absolute necessity for the church to grow into the abundant, live-giving place where “the birds of the air can make nests in its shade.” The parable challenges us with the idea that God created the church (us) for the birds (those who are not us). Are our churches, through our love and prayers, places where the birds (the ones who are not us, may not be at all like us) can come and abide? Let us pray that they are.
Priests and preachers are sowers of the seeds of the gospel, but we are called to do more than simply cast the seed on the ground. Many of us are called to the additional tasks of clearing rocks, tilling the soil, watering and fertilizing, fencing the field, pulling weeds, chasing away pests, and so forth. Paul wrote to the Corinthians, “I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth. You [the church or the unchurched in the mission field] are God’s field.” (1 Cor. 3:6,9) He might have carried the analogy further (as I have done). The analogy breaks down, of course, because weed-choked soil cannot relieve itself of weeds nor can rocky soil relieve itself of stones, but human beings influenced by “the cares of the world, and the lure of wealth, and the desire for other things” can turn from these things. The Lenten “fast” is a time and a mechanism whereby we may make the conscious effort to do so.
Only a little bit of yeast is necessary to leaven a whole batch of dough. In ancient Judaism, leaven could not be offered on the altar: “No grain offering that you bring to the Lord shall be made with leaven, for you must not turn any leaven or honey into smoke as an offering by fire to the Lord.” (Leviticus 2:11) Although this prohibition is repeated elsewhere, the Hebrew Scriptures not say why leaven is forbidden. A popular theory is that it is because leaven spoils and corrupts. The Babylonian Talmud uses the image of “yeast in the dough” as a metaphor for “the evil impulse, which causes a ferment in the heart”; the commentary in the Anchor Bible refers to leaven as “the arch-symbol of fermentation, deterioration, and death and, hence, taboo on the altar of blessing and life.” St. Paul, steeped as he was in Jewish learning, used leaven as a metaphor for sin and its insidious ability to infect an entire community such as a church congregation. No amount of sin may be safely tolerated in the community of faith for sin spreads. So our Lenten discipline of self-examination must include an evaluation of our church communities and, says Paul, if we find any among us who is “sexually immoral or greedy, or is an idolater, reviler, drunkard, or robber” we are to “drive out the wicked person from among [us].” These are harsh words that Paul quotes from several places in the Book of Deuteronomy, e.g., Deuteronomy 17:7; 19:19; 21:21. We should temper his admonition with the encouragement of Christ in Matthew’s Gospel: “If another member of the church sins against you, go and point out the fault when the two of you are alone. If the member listens to you, you have regained that one. But if you are not listened to, take one or two others along with you, so that every word may be confirmed by the evidence of two or three witnesses. If the member refuses to listen to them, tell it to the church; and if the offender refuses to listen even to the church, let such a one be to you as a Gentile and a tax collector.” (Matt. 18:15-17) Correction is always preferable to expulsion! As the Ash Wednesday absolution in The Book of Common Prayer reminds us, God’s preference is that sinners “turn from their wickedness and live.” During this Lent, clean out the old leaven of malice and evil, and encourage one another to keep in mind “the need which all Christians continually have to renew their repentance and faith.”
In this bit from his First Letter to the Church in Corinth, St. Paul nails the Corinthians with sarcasm. Apparently they had been bickering among themselves about who was the most spiritually advanced and some had even boasted that they had grown beyond their teachers, Paul and Apollos. So Paul sardonically congratulates them that they have already achieved every spiritual goal and climbed every spiritual mountain. Paul cynically suggests that he wishes to ride their coattails into glory without the painful cost of obedience that mere mortals must pay. I admire Paul’s willingness to be confrontational with this congregation, but I often find myself unable to do so in my own ministry setting – and I would suspect that I am not alone among clergy. Influenced as we are by our society’s consumer mentality it is all too easy to analyze and evaluate our ministries according to some standard of marketability, but a priest must never forget that popularity with a parish is not proof God’s favor and blessing; clergy are accountable to God not to some corporate-culture inspired performance evaluation. We must struggle not to substitute human approval for obedience to God. In the end, this is true of everyone, not just of clergy. During these weeks in which we are invited “to the observance of a holy Lent, by self-examination and repentance,” it is well to ask who it is we are trying to please, the world around us or God?
One question was, “Why are different colors used throughout the church year and what do they mean?” We use colors in our worship because color is expressive and reflective of mood and meaning. William Temple, former Archbishop of Canterbury whom I quoted last week, is frequently quoted as having said, “Christianity is the most materialistic religion in the world.” What he means, of course, is that Christians acknowledge that God made the world of matter, the world of things, and that the world of matter is essentially good, as God pronounced it in the creation story in Genesis 1. “All things bright and beautiful…The Lord God made them all” the children’s hymn declares. Since God made them and declared them good, we are to receive all that God has made with thanksgiving. We are to enjoy it all for as long as we have breath. Part of that enjoyment is using and appreciating the many colors of the rainbow in our worship.
This is one of my favorite bits of theology from St. Paul! This portion of the Letter to the Romans is also in the Epistle Lesson for the Great Vigil of Easter in the Episcopal Church’s lectionary. I love the certitude with which Paul writes: “We will certainly by united with him!” For Paul this is incontrovertible! The Greek word translated “certainly” is alla which has the additional meaning of “nevertheless” or “notwithstanding” – in other words, there is nothing that can stand in the way of our resurrection with Christ. I am reminded of another favorite passage from Paul’s letter to the Roman church: “For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Rom. 8:38-39) As we spend these weeks of Lent in self-examination and introspection, this is well worth remembering. No matter what faults or flaws we may think we find in ourselves, nothing, absolutely nothing can stand in the way of the loving relationship God desires with each of us. 
