Observe the sabbath day and keep it holy, as the Lord your God commanded you. For six days you shall labour and do all your work. But the seventh day is a sabbath to the Lord your God; you shall not do any work—you, or your son or your daughter, or your male or female slave, or your ox or your donkey, or any of your livestock, or the resident alien in your towns, so that your male and female slave may rest as well as you. Remember that you were a slave in the land of Egypt, and the Lord your God brought you out from there with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm; therefore the Lord your God commanded you to keep the sabbath day. Deuteronomy 5:12-15 NRSV
‘Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.’
At that time Jesus went through the cornfields on the sabbath; his disciples were hungry, and they began to pluck heads of grain and to eat. When the Pharisees saw it, they said to him, ‘Look, your disciples are doing what is not lawful to do on the sabbath.’ He said to them, ‘Have you not read what David did when he and his companions were hungry? He entered the house of God and ate the bread of the Presence, which it was not lawful for him or his companions to eat, but only for the priests. Or have you not read in the law that on the sabbath the priests in the temple break the sabbath and yet are guiltless? I tell you, something greater than the temple is here. But if you had known what this means, “I desire mercy and not sacrifice”, you would not have condemned the guiltless. For the Son of Man is lord of the sabbath.’ Matthew 11:28-30 NRSV
Grace and peace to you from God, our Father, and from our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.
Last week, I shared with you pieces of my vacation with my brother and sister-in-law, and an old friend. I mentioned that we very easily fell into the custom of the afternoon siesta. Each afternoon, around 2 o’clock, most of the shopkeepers and restaurants would close down to go home for a late lunch and to rest during the hottest part of the day. Then, around 6 or 7 pm, they would return to their shops and restaurants, re-open them, and remain open until around 9 p.m. each day. This was a long-standing custom in Orvieto - the more rural village in central Italy, where we spent our first week.
It was interesting, however, to note that, when my friend and I arrived in Rome for the second week, this tradition was nowhere to be found in this large, bustling city. Even so, we still continued the restful pattern we had experienced that first week in rural Italy - the time of rest in the middle of the day in a cooler space. To nap, if we were tired. To read, if we weren’t. And, particularly, to be together.
Because, after the first few days, that’s eventually what began to happen naturally. While we might disappear into our rooms for a short period at the beginning of our siesta time, we inevitably found ourselves gathering together in the living area. And, then, with the setting sun, moving onto the covered patio with a glass of wine. To catch up on our lives. To share our joys. And our challenges. And, yes, to sometimes irritate each other (as my brother and I occasionally do). To simply stop. And to be human. And to find rest.
Today, we begin three weeks learning about and living into what it means to keep the Sabbath. Sabbath, or Shabbat, in the Hebrew. A word that simply means to stop. To cease. To be at a standstill. This word that is at the center of the Fourth Commandment. And not only at the center of the commandment, but at the center - the hinge - of the Ten Commandments. The hinge between the commandments that address our relationship with God and those that address our relationship with each other.
I think we have a really hard time with the idea of a Sabbath. In our 24/7 world, where we are constantly busy. Where technology keeps us constantly connected to work. Where the average American checks his or her phone 80 times a day while on vacation, where parents are hiring coaches to help them raise “phone-free” children. The idea of keeping the Sabbath seems foreign to us. Perhaps, even ridiculous.
Yet, it is this commandment that is the longest and most descriptive of the ten. It is a command that is on the level of the command not to murder. This fourth commandment is not a throw-away comment by God. Given to Israel, first by God at Sinai and then, in our Deuteronomy text today, repeated by Moses to Israel as they were about to enter the Promised Land. It is this commandment - this practice - that God insists we do. Regularly. Why? Because God knows it is the hardest lesson - the hardest practice - for us to do.
It was for Israel. They had been enslaved in Egypt for some 400 years. It had been deeply ingrained in their psyche that their worth was determined by what they produced. Their value was defined by their output. They were measured with each other based upon it. They compared themselves with each other, striving to produce more and more so that they would be viewed as valuable and important to their slave masters. Their lives literally depended upon what they did.
But, they are no longer slaves. They are no longer owned by a master or locked into a system that dictates their worth based on their production. They’re now free. The will need to learn how free people live. Alongside other free people. With God as their master, rather than Pharaoh.
This why this commandment is so important. Because, while the other commandments take the people out of slavery. It is the Sabbath command that takes the slavery out of the people. So that they may truly be free.
This was a hard lesson for Israel to absorb. It is a hard lesson for us to absorb. Because we forget this most of the time. This is why, God tells us, we have to do it regularly. We have to keep the Sabbath regularly. To step out of the mindset and activity of the world around us. The measuring, the comparing, the competing, the striving, the producing, the consuming. We have to regularly stop doing and practice just being. Because neither our value, nor our worth are to be defined by the values and worth of the world.
All the other creatures and the earth itself already does this. We, too, are commanded by God to succumb to the cycles of rest and renewal that God built into the fabric of all existence. Cycles that we are determined to transcend.
One day in seven - the commandment says - we are to remember that we are not God. On purpose. That we are neither better, nor worse, than anyone around us. That we are all connected and belong to God and to each other.
After all, isn’t it this what it means to be human? Isn’t it this what it means to be free?
But, again, we forget this most of the time. Even as we seek to find meaning in our lives, there are forces around us that shape how we do this. Our 24/7 connectivity saturates us with messages that strip us of our freedom. And our humanity. They suck us into a relentless comparison and division. A ranking and a judging. A striving and a measuring. And we begin to believe - and to act - that the world can’t run without us.
Sure, spirituality is nice. God, of course, is real. But, do we really need God? We’ve pretty much got it all together, don’t we?
Yet, in the meantime, we’re so disconnected from our true selves that we can barely handle it when emotion of any kind arises. It throws us off balance. We chronically over-commit, under-resource, and exhaust ourselves. Who in the world even has time for Sabbath? If we step off our spinning carousel, it will all fall apart. We’ll never be able to put it back together again. Plus taking a Sabbath is self-indulgent. Shouldn’t rest a reward for a job well done? Isn’t this part of the Protestant work ethic in our country? We wear it like a badge of honor. “How are you?” someone asks us. “Busy!” we reply, as if it is our busy-ness that is proof of a well-lived life. Look at what we’re doing! Look at how well we’re producing and consuming! We’re not going to waste any time with a Sabbath!
And do we really need God?
Unless we regularly stop, sisters and brothers, we forget that God is God. And that we are not God. We forget that we are creatures. With bodies and minds and hearts that need to be tended. That are dependent upon the love and care of a creator who is ready to meet us when, or if, we simply stop moving long enough to be met. And we forget that we are in this together. Alongside everyone else. That we need one another, because life isn’t meant to be done alone. And, finally, human beings who forget their humanity are arguably the most destructive force in the universe.
So, stop! And, then, “come,” Jesus calls. “Come. You who are weary. You who are tired of toiling. Of striving. Of struggling. You, who have lost heart. Come. Find your life again. Find your humanity. Find your soul. Let go of the world’s yoke and take on mine. For it is light. Because it is a yoke of grace. Practice this. Each week. Take on the life I desire for you. A life of obedience and righteousness. So that you, like Israel, might learn to let go of that which enslaves you. Of that which binds you up. Of that which reduces your humanity.”
Stop! Keep the Sabbath. And live. Live into this commandment that gives life. And relationship. With others. And with God. Who frees you. Who loves you. Just because you are you.
Amen.
Now this is the commandment—the statutes and the ordinances—that the Lord your God charged me to teach you to observe in the land that you are about to cross into and occupy, so that you and your children and your children’s children may fear the Lord your God all the days of your life, and keep all his decrees and his commandments that I am commanding you, so that your days may be long. Hear therefore, O Israel, and observe them diligently, so that it may go well with you, and so that you may multiply greatly in a land flowing with milk and honey, as the Lord, the God of your ancestors, has promised you.
Hear, O Israel: The Lord is our God, the Lord alone. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might. Keep these words that I am commanding you today in your heart. Recite them to your children and talk about them when you are at home and when you are away, when you lie down and when you rise. Bind them as a sign on your hand, fix them as an emblem on your forehead, and write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates. Deuteronomy 6:1-9 (NRSV)
Now the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them. When they saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted. And Jesus came and said to them, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” Matthew 28:16-20 (NRSV)
Grace and peace to you from the Holy Trinity: Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer. Amen.
It’s good to go on vacation, but it's always really good to get home, isn’t it? At least that’s how I felt last week. If you didn’t know, I was in Italy for two weeks with friends and family. The first week we spent in a little hilltop village in central Italy. The second week was with a friend in Rome.
I love history and, as usual, I was blown away by some of the history I learned. This little hilltop town is one of the seven hill towns in central Italy that were settled by the Etruscans in the 6th, 7th, and 8th centuries before Christ. It’s believed that Orvieto - this little village where we spent a week - was founded by this group of people and developed into the central meeting place for leaders of all of the seven hill towns. It’s also believed that it was these Etruscans who eventually founded Rome. And it was, as they say, those “Roman barbarians” who eventually conquered and eliminated the Etruscans and their rich culture.
Fascinating. It’s in learning history, I think, that we learn more about ourselves and where our own stories fit into that long, flowing river of history.
I had another experience that also connected me to another story - the story of the church and of the people of the early church. I was able to tour the Catacombs of San Sebastian. If you know your Roman history, you may know that, as people died, they were buried in tombs along the roads leading out of the city. Eventually, they ran out of space, so they began to bury their dead in unused rock quarries on the outskirts of the city. Over time, as the early church grew, Christians, too, needed a place to bury their dead because, according to their beliefs, cremation was not allowed. So, they, too, began to bury their dead in the caves and passageways carved out below ground.
After fire broke out in Rome in 64 AD, rumors began that the Roman emperor Nero had set the fire deliberately to clear land for a palace for himself. Nero shifted blame to the Christians, who were already widely disliked because they didn’t participate in the religious festivals of the empire that were considered essential to civic life. The church and its leaders began to be persecuted. So, the church went underground. In the catacombs I visited, archaeologists have discovered an early chapel underground. It is believed that it was in that very place where the bodies of Peter and Paul, martyred, were originally enshrined.
So, why is any of this important for us here today? For me, and I hope for you, too, it is a reminder for us that we - as followers of Christ - come from a long history of believers. Of people who were so dedicated to worshiping God and living as disciples that they even did it underground. In the midst of persecution. Because they believed that what they believed was true. That their faith was based on genuine truth.
Over these past few weeks, we’ve been immersed in the Creed. In the three Articles of the Creed, thinking about the three persons of the Godhead. The Three in One. What we hear in the shema from the Deuteronomy text that God, our God, is One. Yet, three. As I said in Week 1 of our series, each time we speak the Creed, we step into that long, steady river. A great two thousand year story of believers, missionaries, and martyrs. People who under interrogation, refused to bow down to the gods of the empire. Who stood their ground and declared, “I believe in God the Father almighty…” And who were executed for saying so.
When we do the same - when we say “I believe in God” - we become part of something bigger than ourselves. Something that is in us individually, but that is also outside of ourselves and bigger than any one of us. Because, if we think salvation is about “me and Jesus” - about “me and my eternal reward” - we miss the point. If we come to the Lord’s table and we raise our voices in song, thinking this is a nice religious activity, we miss the point. As James Howell writes, it is “[o]ut of our isolation” that “we are called together to share the one thing that matters, the broken body and the shed blood of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. We find our place in Christ’s family. We sing, each voice distinct, but yet immersed in the great chorus of the angels and saints, no soloists allowed, an ever-burgeoning cascade of differing voices coalescing into a sunning, beautiful harmony of praise.”
All this when we say the words, “I believe.”
But, it’s easy to get distracted, isn’t it? We see it in the opening lines of our Matthew text. The eleven disciples, after the resurrection, went to the mountain in Galilee where Jesus directed them to go. Notice in verse 17 that, when they saw Jesus, they worshiped him. But, then, the text goes on to read, “...but some doubted.” Doubt is mixed with worship - similar to the “fear and joy” that the women experienced at the empty tomb. There’s some ambivalence. Some doubt. Some hesitation. In fact, the Greek word translated as “doubted” is distazo. It’s the same word that is used to express Peter’s reaction as he began to walk on water. He looked at Jesus and then felt the wind and he became distazo. He became conflicted, which is better translation for this word than doubt. Conflicted.
In Matthew, the disciples’ faith is not a certainty beyond being conflicted. It is a faith that lives between trust and despair. Between certainty and faith. Notice that, in the text, Jesus doesn’t overcome their conflictedness. Instead, he allows them to remain in it. And turns to them with his word.
Isn’t that how Jesus responds to us? As we go about our daily lives, we, too, become conflicted. Distracted from God, from who God calls us to be, we lose sight of God and of our promise to believe in this God. But, then, we gather here. And, in Jesus’ words and in his body and blood we are once again reminded of our Easter faith. Of Jesus, who joined us in our suffering, took it on himself, and who, in his resurrection, God exalted and installed as the Lord of our universe. A universe turned upside down by the resurrection. And, once more, we are centered. Remembering whose we are. Where we come from. And we continue on the journey that countless others have been led on. Centuries of believers. Unknown disciples. Followers of this God in whom we say we believe.
Something else on vacation that I easily fell into the pattern of was that of an afternoon siesta. In Orvieto, in particular, the shopkeepers close their shops around 2 p.m. Everyone goes to cool homes during the heat of the day to eat and to rest. During this period, after a short nap, I would often read one of my favorite murder mysteries. Just for fun. Over the two week period, I read five crime mysteries!
What’s interesting about these stories is the way that the events unfold. Often, it seems like the various details make little sense. Someone has mud on their boots. A wine glass is broken on the floor. A towel is missing from the bathroom. These random, often trivial, facts seem inconsequential to the story. But, then, someone - a detective - steps into the circle of suspects and begins to piece the story together. Explaining what happened. Why the mud is important. Or the broken glass is a critical clue. Or what difference a missing towel makes. It is only at the end that all of the various little details - the seemingly insignificant clues - become important. Only at the end that the whole story makes sense.
I think this is what our Christian life of discipleship is like. We follow, doing our best to not be conflicted. Gathering here weekly with each other, to be fed with the Word, and to be refreshed for the journey - this sprawling, meandering journey of discipleship, the details of which often make little sense in the moment.
Aristotle said that the mark of a good story is that, as you are following it, you have no idea how it will end. But, that, when it does end, you realize that it had to turn out that way. Easter is like the narrator tipping us off on the end of the story. We stand together in this circle and Jesus steps in and explains it all. And it is then, and only then, that everything begins to make sense.
But, it’s different from the end of my murder mysteries. In those, the dead remain dead. The widow goes home alone. The convict ends up in jail. In the Gospel, the dead live. The widowed are reunited. The jails are emptied. And we recognize that it had to turn out that way.
As we read our lives of discipleship backward - if we read the last chapter of our Christian lives first - we discover a journey that has been guided to its end. An end that is destined by the secret hand of the author. By this God in whom we say, “I believe.”
I invite you to believe in this God. To be part of the church, of those who believe in the resurrection. To be part of those who trust, not in themselves, but in God - the Three in One. To believe in the last chapter of our Christian life. And to be with all those before and after us who have trusted and will trust in God’s great, glorious future surprise. Amen.
Preached July 7, 2019, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Pentecost 4
Readings: 1 Timothy 3:14-4:11; Deuteronomy 6:1-9; Matthew 28:16-20.
