Homily for Sunday, August 30, 2015 Graves Chapel
Our lovely earth
makes music for us, at all times, if we would but listen. When I was a child
and sat near an open window in this chapel, during a summer Sunday service, I
listened to the singing of the Kinsey Run. I can still listen to it today. In the north pasture near my
grandmother’s house, bobwhites called to each other all day long. At this time
of year, crickets play their pipes in the tall grass, and in the evening,
cicadas—or hot birds, as Dave’s grandfather called them--tune their electric
guitars to a reverberating twang. Even
in the city, there is music to be heard in the laughter and voices of the
people around us, in the hum of productive labor, in the calling of songbirds.
For some reason, the engineering school at UVA seems to be a particularly
desirable home for wood-thrushes. I often hear them singing as I walk around
Grounds. The song of a wood thrush may be the loveliest music of all.
Sometimes there
are days that seem to put an end to all music. In the past week, we have been confronted with terrible
news. I found myself unable to
sleep in the middle of Thursday night, thinking of the young victims of the
shooting in Roanoke and of the refugees found dead in the back of an abandoned
truck on the side of a highway in Austria. Senseless horror, senseless
cruelty—there is no way to comprehend such things, much less explain them.
There is evil in the world. We don’t know much about the traffickers who no
doubt accepted money from the desperate refugees and then killed them—or
allowed them to die. I think we can guess that greed was the reason behind
their actions. In the case of the shooter in Roanoke, untreated mental illness may
have motivated him to pull the trigger.
In today’s lesson
from Mark, Jesus speaks directly about the source of evil. He says, “Listen to me all of you and
understand: there is nothing outside a person that by going in can
defile, but the things that come out are what defile.” Our Lord is speaking of the human characteristic
called “motivation,” the thing within us that causes us to behave as we do. Whether
we commit a sinful or evil act is completely up to us. The question for each of
us to answer personally, and for our communities to examine collectively, is why
we make the choices we make. What motivates us to do the things we do? Wouldn’t Jesus advise us to make love
our primary motivation?
The collect
appointed for today invokes God in this way: “Lord of all power and might, the
author and giver of all good things…” God did not simply wave a magic wand and
cause the world and all of creation to appear. God is the author of creation, a
craftsman with an outline and a plan who clearly devoted thought to what this
universe would be and how it should work.
How is it that bad things happen in a universe created by the “author
and giver of all good things”? In
the story of creation, we are told that God created us in God’s image, as
thinking creatures. We are reminded in a prayer to God found in Psalm 8, “What
are humans that you are mindful of them, mortals that you care for them? You
have made them a little lower than the angels, and crowned them with glory and
honor. You have given them dominion over the works of your hands.” At our
creation, we were bestowed with the gifts of intelligence and self-will. When we believe our lives to be our own instead of gifts from
God, it can be easy for selfishness and pride, envy and greed to become human
motivations.
God created humans
in “his own image,” essentially like God in our ability to plan, to craft, to
understand and to love the gifts of creation. Just as our very lives are gifts, all good things—clear
water that quenches our thirst, clean air to breathe, the earth that produces
an abundance of food for us to eat—are gifts freely given. In giving humans stewardship of the
earth, God asked us to care wisely and well for all of the gifts--including one
another. Judging by the ways of
the world, it appears that we humans find God’s charge to us to be a very difficult
task.
Maybe that is why
the next line of the collect implores of God, “Graft in our hearts the love of
your name.” GRAFT is a pretty
interesting choice of a verb, isn’t it?
A graft involving living tissue, such as a heart muscle, is a surgical
procedure intended to cause the two things to adhere to one another,
permanently. This prayer isn’t seeking to place a reverence for God somewhere
within our conscious selves; it is asking for that love to be united so
closely with us that it is inseparable from our very being. A love for God grafted to our hearts
could not fail to be our primary motivation.
Wouldn’t a love
that deeply embedded within us change the way we think and behave? At least,
that is what the next line of the collect seems to suggest: “…increase in us true
religion.” The writer of today’s
epistle, James, is widely believed to be the brother of Jesus, and he has some
strong words for how “true religion” can be recognized. James begins by
reminding us of the source of all goodness, even human goodness: “Every
generous act of giving, with every perfect gift, is from above, coming down
from the Father of Lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to
change. In fulfillment of his own purpose he gave us birth by the way of truth,
so that we would become a kind of first fruits of his creation.” The first fruits of God’s creation—what
a beautiful way to think of human life! As the first fruits of God, our hearts
should be filled with gratitude, at the very least. Doesn’t it seem that
way? James goes on to say, “You must understand this, my beloved:
let everyone be quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger, for your anger
does not produce God’s righteousness.
Therefore, rid yourselves of all sordidness and wickedness, and welcome
with meekness the implanted word that has the power to save your souls.”
The implanted word is the
love of God’s name that has been grafted on our hearts.
What James has to
say next also explains what is meant by the words, “…true religion.” James
tells us that the way to demonstrate “true religion” is to “be doers of the
word, and not merely hearers who deceive themselves.” We are to show by our
behavior towards others and our care of creation, by the generous and useful things
we do, that we are grateful children of God. James goes on to say, “Religion
that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to care for orphans
and widows in their distress and to keep oneself unstained by the world.” In other words, be kind, be loving, be
patient, be humble, be meek. Be
unselfish. In these ways, we
“nourish” ourselves and others “in all goodness.” Anyone who lives in this way
“brings forth the fruit of good works,” as the collect concludes.
St. Therese of
Lisieux called this simple way of living a “little way,” because it keeps the
focus on serving others and putting oneself last. It is a path that requires
humility. Even in a world as torn as ours, we do still see examples of people
living in this “little way,” as they strive to put others before themselves,
not only as volunteers in refugee camps, but also in patient kindness to a
stranger they may encounter on a city street. St. Therese understood her “little way” to be the
fulfillment of the life Jesus commends in the Beatitudes. It is simply a life lived in and with love.
I know. In a world
that seems to be torn apart by evil, what can simple and humble acts of kindness
accomplish? We cannot undo the
evil that is done. We can’t even seem to be able to prevent evil from
happening. But we can add our own acts of love and kindness to the
scales and tip the precarious balance toward God’s side, the side of love.
Sometimes I think,
when I hear the crickets piping or a wood thrush singing, that the rest of
creation does a better job of showing God its gratitude than we humans do. Why
should a bird or a cricket be more grateful than a human being? Their lives are certainly more
precarious than ours. And yet they sing on! Do they know something about
gratitude that we often forget?
Today’s Old
Testament lesson comes from one of the most beautiful love songs ever written,
“The Song of Solomon.” Yes, it expresses the ardent love between a young man
and his bride, but it also expresses the love God feels for us and for
creation. The words speak of the joyous
singing of the universe:
Arise my love, my fair one, and
come away!
For now the winter is past, the
rain is over and gone.
The flowers appear on the earth;
the time of singing has come,
and the voice of the turtledove is
heard in our land.”
May we all add our voices to the
song of the universe and share the joy of gratitude. In all we do, may we
express your love, O Lord. AMEN.
