Showing posts with label tormented. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tormented. Show all posts

Friday, August 18, 2017

Gospel text for Sunday 20 August 2017

Matthew 15. 10-28        Jesus called the crowd to him and said to them, “Listen and  understand: it is not what goes into the mouth that defiles a person, but it is what comes out of the mouth that defiles.” Then the disciples approached and said to him, “Do you know that the Pharisees took offense when they heard what you said?” He answered, “Every plant that my heavenly Father has not planted will be uprooted. Let them alone; they are blind guides of the blind. And if one blind person guides another, both will fall into a pit.” But Peter said to him, “Explain this parable to us.” Then he said, “Are you also still without understanding? Do you not see that whatever goes into the mouth enters the stomach, and goes out into the sewer? But what comes out of the mouth proceeds from the heart, and this is what defiles. For out of the heart come evil intentions, murder, adultery, fornication, theft, false witness, slander. These are what defile a person, but to eat with unwashed hands does not defile.”

Jesus left that place and went away to the district of Tyre and Sidon. Just then a Canaanite woman from that region came out and started shouting, “Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David; my daughter is tormented by a demon.” But he did not answer her at all. And his disciples came and urged him, saying, “Send her away, for she keeps shouting after us.” He answered, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” But she came and knelt before him, saying, “Lord, help me.” He answered, “It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” She said, “Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.” Then Jesus answered her, “Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish.” And her daughter was healed instantly.

Reflection     Bishop Eugene Sutton of the Episcopal Diocese of Maryland writes, “Racism, anti-Semitism and violence rear their ugly head once again, this time in Charlottesville, Virginia… and another example of the collective failure of our nation to expend the moral and political capital needed to stop our spiral into racial and violent madness.”


“Now more than ever, we need people of good will to speak out clearly and courageously against the disturbing tide of white supremacist rhetoric that wants to divide and prevent us from coming together.”


And there it is. An invitation to people of good will - hopefully that is us - to speak out because, words are powerful. Words are windows into our hearts. And those of us with hearts tempered by compassion must open our mouths and speak out. I believe Jesus might well have said, “What goes into our mouths does not make us holy, but what comes out of our mouths makes us holy.”  

If you are, as I am, appalled by the degrading, debasing, dishonoring words you hear echoing across our nation please take seriously your covenant with God and remember the ageless wisdom that underlies the Holiness Code in Leviticus, “For I am the LORD your God. You must consecrate yourselves and be holy, because I am holy. So do not defile yourselves…” (Lev 11.44)

To consecrate ourselves, to make ourselves holy, we must dedicate ourselves to  divine purpose. One way to do that is to consider and measure our words as they betray the state of our hearts.  When our words (or texts or twitters) are drenched in enmity, antagonism and disgust they are like flaming swords inciting hostility and hatred. This will do nothing more than continue and exacerbate the tragic violence and hostility that besieged Charlottesville. 

Returning to Bishop Sutton’s reflection, “Too often in our nation’s history people of goodwill have chosen to remain silent in the face of bigotry, refusing to risk having unpleasant conversations that might disturb colleagues, friends and the ones we love.” It is time for us to initiate those difficult conversations. Remember, even Jesus had his mind changed by the persistent Caananite woman who broke every social, political and religious boundary to plead for mercy for her daughter. Had the woman remained silent the demons would have continued to torment her daughter.

Imagine how Charlottesville might have looked if a group of us people of good will approached those protesting the removal of the Robert E. Lee stature and respectfully asked, “Would you join us for a meal? Tell us about your concern? How does this stature affirm who you are? How would removing it harm you? Does your claim to white supremacy stem from your experience of seeing how minorities have historically been mistreated? If so, it is no wonder you feel vulnerable and want to protect yourselves. What can we do together to insure this will never happen to you or anyone else?” And there is every chance we would have to keep asking, and asking and asking, persistent as the Canaanite woman.

This is hard, in fact, we cannot accomplish it by sheer will. Like the Canaanite woman we must depend on our relationship with God. We must ask to be fed with the spiritual food of compassion to enable us to live in holiness of life.


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Tuesday, June 18, 2013

Gospel text for Sunday 23 June 2013

Luke 8:26-39     Jesus and his disciples arrived at the country of the Gerasenes, which is opposite Galilee. As he stepped out on land, a man of the city who had demons met him. For a long time he had worn no clothes, and he did not live in a house but in the tombs. When he saw Jesus, he fell down before him and shouted at the top of his voice, "What have you to do with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? I beg you, do not torment me" -- for Jesus had commanded the unclean spirit to come out of the man. (For many times it had seized him; he was kept under guard and bound with chains and shackles, but he would break the bonds and be driven by the demon into the wilds.) Jesus then asked him, "What is your name?" He said, "Legion"; for many demons had entered him. They begged him not to order them to go back into the abyss.
Now there on the hillside a large herd of swine was feeding; and the demons begged Jesus to let them enter these. So he gave them permission. Then the demons came out of the man and entered the swine, and the herd rushed down the steep bank into the lake and was drowned.
When the swineherds saw what had happened, they ran off and told it in the city and in the country. Then people came out to see what had happened, and when they came to Jesus, they found the man from whom the demons had gone sitting at the feet of Jesus, clothed and in his right mind. And they were afraid. Those who had seen it told them how the one who had been possessed by demons had been healed. Then all the people of the surrounding country of the Gerasenes asked Jesus to leave them; for they were seized with great fear. So he got into the boat and returned. The man from whom the demons had gone begged that he might be with him; but Jesus sent him away, saying, "Return to your home, and declare how much God has done for you." So he went away, proclaiming throughout the city how much Jesus had done for him.
Reflection    Inside my generally poised and quiet exterior I’ve borne a few storms along the way; whirlwinds of uninvited thoughts and indubitable tornadoes of emotion. Inside it felt no less perilous than the raging wind and waves that provoked Jesus’ disciples to shout, “Master we are perishing.” (Luke 8. 24) And although I have never been physically bound “with chains and shackles” I do recall feeling the weight of the world hammering my chest while wirey fingers cuffed my throat. Fear - this will never end. Fear - this will end. I suspect most people have had a taste or two of such extremis, where circumstances (inside or out) seem so grave, so isolating, so out of control, that there is nothing to do except fall down on our face before Holy God and surrender. And then...
We know the story. Something unexpected happens. Jesus calmed the storm his disciples believed would kill them, and then they were “afraid and amazed...(and asked) who is this who commands even the winds and the water...?” (Luke 8.25) Jesus moved on to approach the tormented man of Gersasene, and instead of turning away disgusted by his vulgar behavior, Jesus asked the deranged man whose “chains and shackles” were insufficient to contain the powerhouse of his emotions, Jesus asked, “What is your name?” In other words, Jesus ‘saw’ beyond the circumstance. Jesus ‘saw’ the real man. By asking the man his name Jesus affirmed his very essence. And the tormented man was restored to his right mind. The people who had persecuted him were “seized with fear.” But not the tortured man. His heart was filled with desire. He begged to stay with Jesus, the one by whom he felt seen and loved.  
Exposed and naked the tormented man fell down before Jesus. In an act of utter surrender he prostrated himself before the “Son of the Most High God.” And he was transformed.  In his Letters to a Young Poet Rainer Marie Rilke wrote, “Perhaps all the dragons in our lives are really princesses who are waiting to see us act, just once, with beauty and courage. Perhaps everything that frightens us is, in its deepest essence, something helpless that wants our love.”