The Very Rev. Fredrick A. Robinson
One of my favorite short stories is by Flannery O’Connor, entitled “Parker’s Back.” Obadiah Elihue Parker is a profane and shiftless man, covered from head to toe with tattoos. Every inch of his body, except for his back, is covered with multicolored images of serpents, eagles, hawks, other animals. He even has tattoos of Elizabeth II and Prince Philip. He wasn’t interested in marriage, but when he met Sarah Ruth, a plain looking, self-righteous woman who was “forever sniffing up sin,” he noticed that beyond her gruff exterior she seemed mildly curious about his tattoos, even though she denounced them as a “heap of vanities.”
Parker couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to marry Sarah Ruth, yet somehow the two of them ended up getting married. As time passes, Sarah Ruth finds herself increasingly intolerant of his pagan way of living and Parker finds himself growing increasingly dissatisfied. He “did nothing much when he was at home but listen to what the judgment seat of God would be like for him if he didn’t change his ways.”
In spite of himself, he loves Sarah Ruth and yearns for her acceptance. He decides the only thing that he can do to convince Sarah Ruth of his religiosity, while not having to change his lifestyle, is to have a Byzantine image of Christ tattooed on his back. He carries out the plan and shows the finished product to Sarah Ruth, who immediately shouts “Idolatry,” beats him with a broom, and tells him to get out of the house. The story ends with Parker standing outside by a tree crying like a baby.
Parker just couldn’t win. Today’s readings from Deuteronomy and the Gospel, if taken out of the context of the rest of Scripture, would appear to put us in a similar dilemma. In Deuteronomy, the Lord says if you follow his commandments you shall live and multiply and the Lord will bless you, but if not you shall perish. We all know of instances when we’ve not kept the commandments. According to this passage, our choice has been to perish, and the consequences appear to be irreversible.
In today’s Gospel Jesus makes the commandments even harder to follow. Not only is murder against the law, but also anger puts us under judgment. Not only is adultery against the law, but also lustful thoughts. Jesus ends this particular discourse, which doesn’t appear in today’s Gospel, by saying, “You must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” We know that even as we try to do what is right, our intentions are rarely if ever completely without self-interest. We certainly are not perfect as God is perfect.
If taken by themselves, these readings of scripture place us in a predicament similar to that which Parker faced. We’re not perfect, and there is nothing that can alter that fact.
However, we’re not part of the Church because we’re perfect, although we sometimes forget that, and when someone among us is discovered to be a sinner, we find ourselves judging that person. We’re not here because of our own merit, but because of the grace of God. In the words of Frederick Buechner, “There’s nothing you have to do. There’s nothing you have to do. There’s nothing you have to do.”
But if we’re here and we’re not perfect, then how do we deal with today’s scripture readings? Jesus is showing us that it is impossible to attain righteousness on our own merit. That’s the key; it’s impossible to do it on our own. Most of us have never murdered someone, but who among us has not been angry with another person, perhaps as recently as this morning? Oscar Wilde writes: “Each man kills the one he loves;/By each let this be heard;/ Some do it with a bitter look,/ some with a flattering word,/ the coward does it with a kiss/ the brave man with a sword.” The only way that we can approach God is through his grace.
But there is one catch—we do have the choice of whether or not to accept that grace. Indeed, we can choose to reject the love of God. But if we accept it, then that grace has the power to transform our lives, and through it we can indeed work toward the perfection that is the goal of the Christian life.
We Christians walk a kind of tight rope. We understand that we need the grace of God. We also know that we are called to a higher standard than the standard of the world around us. Likewise, the world around us knows that Christians are called to a higher standard, and when Christians fail to live up to that standard it contributes to the perception that all we are is a bunch of hypocrites, saying we believe one thing and doing another. The situation is further complicated because we have a tendency to hold others to the standard of perfection while being accommodating towards ourselves. I can tell when you’re not being perfect, and I might even enjoy, if not pointing it out to you, pointing it out to others.
In understanding this teaching of our Lord, we need to keep all of these things in tension. We cannot save ourselves; we are only saved by the grace of God. We are indeed called to perfection, to walk in integrity. Our salvation includes the perfection of our being. It follows, then, that the only way to salvation, including the perfection of our being, is through the grace of God by union with Christ. Our goal is to have Christ indelibly stamped upon us.
St. John of the Cross, in the living flame of love, states it eloquently: “When a log of wood has been set up on the fire, it is transformed into fire and united with it; yet as the fire grows hotter and the wood remains on it for a longer time, it glows much more and becomes more completely enkindled, until it gives out sparks of fire and flame.”
Sermon preached by The Very Rev. Fredrick A. Robinson
Church of the Redeemer
Sarasota, Florida
6th Sunday after the Epiphany
12 February 2017