Membership Standards
6/13/2010
The Reverend Paul J. Kowalewski, Ph.D.
The Third Sunday after Pentecost
Recently, I had a conversation with a man who had attended a service here. He told me that he hadn't been to church for many years. He went on to say that he wasn't very religious. When I pressed him to explain further. He told me that he keeps away from churches because he never feels like he can measure up to the expected standards. He said he has lots of doubts about God, and that he has done some things he regretted in his life. So, he never felt like a church was a place where he could be accepted.
I was thinking about what this man had to say as I read and re-read the Gospel we just heard this morning. There are lots of people like the man I just told you about who think that you have to meet certain standards in order to be a certified card carrying member of the church, so they stay away. Or if they do show up they think they are probably less qualified to be here than some, perhaps imagining that their proper place is to sit in the peanut gallery, the cheap seats, leaving the more qualified "gold star members" to sit up here in the box seats or stand at an altar.
Today's Gospel story has a lot to say about what God expects of us, and what the church should expect of its members.
The Gospel opens at a dinner party, thrown by a gold-star, highly qualified member of the temple: Simon the Pharisee. He has invited other high-level temple elites to come and meet Jesus who is rumored to be a rising-star in Jewish circles--maybe even a prophet. The meal is served in strict observance of Jewish law: all the properly prepared food and drink, the proper meal rituals observed, only men at the table with the women serving them. There is no doubt some sort of theological discussion over the meal, perhaps some debates about the finer points of the law.
And then something wild and wonderful happens, which turns everything upside down. A woman comes into the room and approaches Jesus--no, not just any woman but a well-known prostitute, a public sinner. And, as she enters the room, the conversation stops, and you can hear the audible gasps of the guests at the table.
You see, back in Jesus' day, sin was not only seen as an offense against God but also an offense against your fellow community of Jews. If the sin were grave enough, you would be excommunicated from the temple and ostracized from any contact with other Jews. Prostitution was one of those grave offenses. A known prostitute was a notorious social outcast, so ritually unclean that she was not only forbidden to enter the home of any respectable Jew but even forbidden to touch him, for in doing even such a mere touch would also make him unclean.
So now we get a picture of what is happening in that dining room when this prostitute enters, and why those upstanding temple citizens looked at her with such disdain and disgust. This trashy outcast sinner has dared to enter the home of one of the most respectable temple citizens and if that isn't bad enough, she proceeds to kneel before Jesus and not only touch him but she washes his feet with her tears and dries them with her hair. You can't paint a more outlandish picture of breaking of the tempe law than what is happening at that dinner table.
So why is she doing all this? If you read the story carefully, you discover that this woman hasn't come to Jesus to grovel or petition for his forgiveness. In fact, Jesus informs his fellow guests that this woman at is feet is someone who has already been forgiven of her many sins.
We don't get an account of the details but she was probably some poor woman who Jesus saw on the street and pulled her out of the gutter. No doubt he embraced her as a child of God and instead of treating her as trash and assured her that she was loved. She came to Jesus at that dinner forgiven, healed, accepted. And so, with a sense of profound gratitude for what Jesus had done for her, she throws caution to the wind, she breaks all the rules and kneels before him, touching him and kissing his feet as she pours out her intimate gratitude because she once was lost but now is found.
And of course Jesus doesn't stop her--she may be braking a law but Jesus is teaching a far more profound lesson here--love is the only law--love is the only standard--and if any other laws get in the way of love, break them. The moral here is: Let nothing stand in the way of love and compassion.
But Simon the Pharisee will have none of it. He is a doctor of the law--forgiveness and social respectability have to be earned. Simon is unable to see her as a child of God but only as a public outcast who has brought her troubles on herself. She didn't even belong in that dining room, let alone be allowed to kiss and touch someone who was supposedly a Jewish prophet--such an outrage.
And so, in this one Gospel story we are presented one of the most poignant portrayals of amazing grace in all the Scriptures. Jesus shows us the face of a God of limitless forgiveness and radical hospitality. Jesus sits at the table with open arms teaching us that nothing should ever be allowed to stand in the way of compassion. And if any rules get in the way of love, break the rules. In contrast, Simon tells us of a God who sets the bar high and only rewards those who meet the standards.
The forgiven woman is the one who is set free. Her heart is big and her life now overflows with gratitude; whereas Simon's arrogant pride has made his heart small and cold. His life is sterile and stingy. He may be big man in the temple, but he is a small man isolated and alone. So who is the real sinner after all?
All week long I've been thinking about this story in light of my conversation with that man who doesn't come to church because he fears he can't live up to the church's standards. And I can certainly understand why he might feel that way.
Examples about the expected standards which churches use to judge people are myriad: I think about how an earthquake hits or there is a terrorist attack and the TV evangelists mount their pulpits declaring that this is Gods way of weeding out the good from the bad, as sinners are punished for their misdeeds. Or I think about how people have been denied positions of leadership and respect in their churches because they are persons of color or because they are women. I think about how, just last month, I heard someone tell me that they attended a wedding at a church of another denomination and when they went to receive communion they were turned away because the priest told them they weren't qualified to receive the Eucharist because they weren't members of that church. Yes, and I think about a news story from just this past week as the Episcopal church in America was chastised and punished by the Archbishop of Canterbury for being so audacious as to ordain a lesbian woman to be a bishop of the church.
I think about all this and I wonder how you can hear a Gospel like the one we read today and still throw people away or keep them as outcasts especially in a church made up of followers of Jesus. I wonder if perhaps the church in various times and in various places has been a better follower of Simon the Pharisee than a follower of Jesus of Nazareth.
So I can understand why that man who spoke to me about not going to church would keep away because he isn't sure he is qualified. But I also want you to know that this same man also told me that his experience among us here was different. He told me that he walked in the door of Saint James' in the City, and for the first time, he felt like he really belonged in a church. It was music to my ears.
Some of you have heard my somewhat whimsical muses about putting a sign out in front of our church so people know what they are getting into when they enter. Actually, I'd like to put up two signs out there. The first would say. "Your sins are already forgiven" Just like the woman in the Gospel story who came to Jesus, not to beg forgiveness but to give thanks because she was already forgiven. So it is with us. We don't come to church groveling, fearful of God's retribution. We are already forgiven when we walk in the doors. No one holier or lowlier than anybody else--each of us an already forgiven sinner so all that we can possibly do when we get here is offer profound thanks for amazing grace.
The other sign I'd like to put up is a sign which reads,"No assigned seats." All of us equally valuable children of God--no cheap seats, no peanut gallery, no boxes for gold star members. The only standard is the standard of love, and any rules that get in the way of love are meant to be broken.
Jesus is the host here at this feast, not Simon the Pharisee and so this is a house of radical hospitality and amazing grace. So let the tears flow as we kiss and anoint his feet and pour out our intimate gratitude. Amen.
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