“A Place for All”

Eighteenth Sunday of Pentecost

Sunday October 4, 2009

Job 1:1, 2:1-10

Psalm 26

Hebrews 1:1-4, 2:5-12

Today is a day of celebration.  In a few moments, we will celebrate the ordination and induction of a number of new elders.  And then, we will join together in the celebration of communion.   As today is Worldwide Communion Sunday, we not only participate in this sacrament as a local community of faith, but also as a part of a spiritual communion with people from all over the world.

In light of these celebrations, I found myself feeling a bit uncomfortable when I read today’s suggested lectionary texts.  After all, on a day of celebration and communion, the Gospel text’s reflections on divorce and marriage seemed quite hard to read.

My initial reaction was to find other texts that might seem to fit better with today’s events.  But then I was reminded that all of us – whether preparing for sermons or just in our own private reading – do well to ponder those parts of the Bible that initially make us squirm. The difficult texts often reveal more to us than the easy ones do.

The passage opens with the Pharisees coming to Jesus with an ethical question.  “Is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife?”  They then discussed the laws of Moses; they discussed the meaning of marriage; and the conversation did not end with those interactions between Jesus and the Pharisees. The disciples continued to ask him questions, until we read, in verses 11 and 12, “whoever divorces his wife and marries another commits adultery against her; and is she divorces her husband and marries another, she commits adultery.”

These are difficult words to read and to hear, particularly in light of the fact that every one of us has been touched, in one way or another, by divorce.  Some of us have lived through the pain of estrangement; some of us have betrayed love, or have been betrayed by a person with whom we thought we would be spending our lives; some of us have held the hands of a close friend as their hopes seemed to be breaking apart; some of us have watched parents, or children, or grandchildren experience the painful breakdown of their marriages; and, in the aftermath of such difficult experiences, to hear words about divorced people committing adultery if they decide to remarry seem almost too much to bear.  We all know that divorce, even when it is necessary, inevitable, or perhaps even the right choice, is nonetheless tragic.  No one intends that their marriages will end in such a way.  It is difficult to read and to hear these words.

Our initial reaction – or at least mine! – is to just choose another passage.

Unfortunately, in so doing, we sometimes miss the Gospel.

It is good for us to wrestle with such passages until they begin to reveal new glimpses of the wondrous, life-giving, transforming nature of God’s grace.

And it is particularly good to do so, as religious people, because, in this passage, the religious folks were not motivated by a desire to catch a glimpse of God’s grace.

Rather, the text begins with a group of Pharisees -- religious leaders of their community – much like a group of Presbyterian elders – trying to make sure that they were getting all of the rules right.  The text suggests that the intention, on the part of those religious elders, was not to establish truth, but rather to test Jesus.  We read, “some Pharisees came, and to test him, they asked, ‘Is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife?’”

Clearly, their question was intended to test the truth of Jesus’ beliefs on the basis of his answer to an ethical question. 

And, in this, not much has changed.  After all, we continue to ask the very same types of questions that the Pharisees were asking in this passage.  Like them, we continue to suffer with the same mistaken notion that a faithful life can be judged on the basis of some criteria of ethical correctness.  Those ethical tests may change from generation to generation, but we continue to use them to judge the faith of others. Consider the ethical questions that have being tearing apart the church in the last few decades.  What political ideologies do you think are the most ‘Christian’?  Do you believe that women’s gifts for ministry are as important as men’s?  What is your stance on abortion?  What are your understandings about questions related to human sexuality?  What is your understanding of the definition of marriage and the permissibility of divorce?   

We all ask such questions – and, too often, from both the left and the right, the liberal and the conservative, we use these ethical questions in exactly the same way that the Pharisees were using their question about divorce – as a test of the other person’s faithfulness.  When we realize how often we use ethics to test each other’s faith, we come realize just how often we, as Christians, have more in common with the Pharisees and the disciples than with Christ.

So how did Jesus respond to those questions?  At first, he seemed to be engaging them in their questions; but his words began to reveal his conviction that the real problem was not one of ethical correctness, but rather that it was a lack of compassion, a hardness of heart.  Jesus was not interested in debating the ethics of divorce.  Instead, he was trying to draw their attention back to what the original intention of marriage was supposed to be.  Marriage was supposed to be rooted in compassion, in a deep and abiding loyalty between two people – a commitment so deep that they were supposed to come to view each other as part of the same flesh. 

And, because marriage was supposed to be rooted in love, divorce was not sad because it was a breach of ethics or law; it was sad because it was a failure of love.  

But Jesus had not come to spell out the boundaries of ethical correctness.

And the way that we come to realize this is by keeping these difficult words about marriage and divorce in immediate connection with the story which immediately comes after them.

And a far more tender story it is.  People were bringing children to Jesus.  The disciples tried to discourage the practice, as they thought that Jesus was too important. There were important people to speak with, important religious officials to debate, important things to be done.

Jesus, however, saw things differently.  When Jesus saw what his disciples were doing, he insisted – indignantly – that the children be allowed to come to him.  “Let the little children come to me; do not stop them; for it is such as these that the kingdom of God belongs.  Truly I tell you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.”

As we read Jesus’ words about how the kingdom of God would be glimpsed by paying attention to those little children, we begin to realize that nowhere, in Jesus’ ethical debates with the Pharisees or with the disciples, had he made any similar statements about how the kingdom of God was to be glimpsed.  Nowhere did he suggest that getting the rules correct, or interpreting the law perfectly, was the point.  Nowhere in those debates did he suggest that marital stability was essential to one’s place in God’s kingdom; nor did getting divorced exclude one from that kingdom.

Rather, what made a person fit for the kingdom of God was whether they could simply accept God’s love, with the same joyful enthusiasm that a child displays when receiving a present.  The children that he drew to himself did not understand all of the ethical conundrums and finer nuances of the law that were perplexing the Pharisees and the disciples.  It is unlikely that those children even cared about such debates.

Rather, Jesus insisted that the children be allowed to come to him -- as they were.  He wanted to let those children know how much they were loved; and he wanted others – their parents, the Pharisees, his disciples -- to realize that the love that he had for those children could help people to see what the kingdom of God was all about.  

In the kingdom of God, one did not have to get all the rules and laws and answers right; in the kingdom of God, it was not only the happily married, fully self-actualized, sufficiently middle class, ethically correct who had a place. 

Rather, in the kingdom of God, there was a place for all.  Look at the kids, Jesus was saying, and you will realize that in the wide expanse of God’s love, there is a place for all.

And it is in this beautiful picture of Christ holding those children in his arms that we come to realize that this passage may, after all, be quite relevant to today’s service. 

To the elders who are about to be ordained and inducted, I offer this word of encouragement.  Follow the example of Jesus in this passage, and not the example of the Pharisees and the disciples.  Your role is not to make sure that we always get all of the rules right; and your role is certainly not to make sure that only the important people are allowed access to Christ.  Rather, your role is to serve in such a way that every single one of God’s beloved children can find their way into the loving embrace of Christ.  Young and old, rich and poor, those on the right and those on the left, the so-called gay and the so-called straight, those from Rosedale and from Regent Park, from Flemingdon Park and from Forest Hill, from King and Bay and from Jane and Finch, from the business towers and from the homeless shelters, married and divorced, partnered and single, the faithful and the doubting, the hopeful and the despairing – all are the beloved of God.  And you are called to serve in such a way that there will be a place for all in this community of God’s grace; a place for all at the Table that we will so soon approach.    

This calling to make a place for all of God’s children is at the very heart of the Gospel of Jesus Christ.  A Gospel which excludes anyone may seem to be good news for some; but it is not the Gospel of Jesus Christ.   

Rather, the Gospel of Jesus Christ makes a place for all of God’s children.  And when we accept that good news, our lives, our hearts, our churches and our world begin to change.  Because when we accept that good news, we begin to work towards the realization of that reign of love, that divine community where there will actually be a place for all -- a place for me; a place for you; and a place for Christ himself.