The practical challenges of living mercifully

I hate to admit it, but way, way too often we Christians are known for our “judginess” than for our mercy. We are told by Jesus and all the Scriptures to prefer mercy; but it seems, at least in the public square, Christians can’t keep their opinions (and their eye-rolls) to themselves. And this causes us not only a lot of embarrassment, but also misleads folks, in and out of the Church, as to how Christian ethics works in our several traditions.

Thomas Merton once wrote, "So many Christians exalt the demands and rigors of law because, in reality, law is less demanding than pure charity."

Sometimes this comes across as a kind of religious grouchiness, but I think most of the time it really comes out of a sincere, heartfelt desire to do good. The problem arises when we try to get others to do good by shaming them or yelling at them or judging them. Maybe not in the “go straight to the fiery furnaces, do not pass ‘Go,’ do not collect $200” kind way. It is much more common for us to communicate our judginess with a wry chuckle, an eye-roll, or with an “uh-huh” or an “I told you so.”

Whether we are too clever by half, or too grouchy for own good, our attitude about to be a “good” Christian will depend largely on this question (which is at the heart of Jesus’ teaching today):

Is it about “me” or about “we?” 

Is it about doing it my way, or is it about listening for God in Christian community?

Of course, as you may have guessed, my heart goes out to the Rev. Andres Arango and the people of his former parish in Phoenix, Arizona. This week the hot religious news item is that Fr. Arango, a Roman Catholic diocesan priest, was disciplined and sent away for extended “study and retreat” because for years whenever he baptized someone, he decided unilaterally to change the words of the official text of the liturgy. Instead of saying the typical (and official formula… that is the same one found in our prayer book and in almost every Christian tradition around the globe and through history, by the way) “I baptize you in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit,” Fr. Arango said instead “We baptize you….”  

And…? So…? What…? I see in your quizzical expressions.

His thinking was that it was more inclusive and set the context of the baptism within the community of the people of God by saying “We baptize you….” It attempted to reflect an understanding that the priest is acting within, from, and for the community of faith. And the heart of baptism, the thinking goes, is the water and the Trinity (in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit), not “I” or “We” right? His Bishop said “Nope.” He said that while he is doing the sacramental action, and even though Baptism is initiation into the whole Church, he is the one doing the baptizing, so “I” it is.

Here is the weird part: apparently all those “we” baptisms are supposedly considered void, or at least “valid but illicit.” Clergy and lay religious whose vows are founded upon a baptism performed by this priest using these words, not to mention a lot of lay Catholics, have to contend with the possibility that they have been participating in sacraments that they are not supposed to because they may not be properly baptized. As I said, it’s their playground and their rules… I might have asked the question about intention and what folks believed was going on and then adjusted accordingly… but they did what they did, and, well…. What a holy mess!

Lucky for us, Jesus seems to have decided to weigh in through the lectionary for this week. And, looking at today’s Gospel, Jesus seems to have other ideas. Jesus teaches his followers (Luke 6:20-26; 6:27-38) to live a life of caring and extravagant love. Along the way, Jesus taught a new attitude toward power, possessions and wealth that, instead of being something we hoard, becomes our power for good and our tools for transforming creation.  

And in Christian community, Epiphany, we must ask ourselves: in communicating Jesus is it about “me” or about “we?”

The Epiphany season is about how God shows Jesus to be the Messiah and Savior… how Jesus reveals both his divinity and his humanity. And in all this, we find that the best way to reveal Christ is through practical acts of mercy, usefulness, and love.

Surprise! It’s not the big miracles but little everyday mercies that make all the difference! Listen to Jesus who says, “Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also; and from anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt. Give to everyone who begs from you; and if anyone takes away your goods, do not ask for them again. Do to others as you would have them do to you.”

For Jesus, and for Judaism itself, the hallmark of obedience to the Law of Moses—and in the early church the chief sign of being in Communion with Jesus and the Church—is mercy. Over and over again, we hear Jesus and the Jewish and Christian scriptures remind us that without love or mercy, our religiosity is meaningless.

Which isn’t to say that the other things, like reading, learning, and inwardly being inscribed with Scripture, saying the prayers, and participating in the breaking of bread and in the Apostle’s teaching and fellowship aren’t important too! They are in fact the essential building blocks for a live lived in obedience to God as followers of Jesus! The foundation is mercy. The challenge comes when the form and words (and human beings!) get involved.

Over the course of my ordained ministry, I can tell you that I have served, worshiped, and supplied in dozens of congregations, from suburbs to cities to hallows to small towns, and every single one of them has their own way of navigating the path from pages 355-366 in the BCP… and, you know what? They are all right! Some are simple, some are folksy, some are highly formal and very stylized, and some are almost perfunctory in their directness. But where the word of God is read and taught, the gifts of the people including broken bread and poured out wine are offered, where Jesus’ words are repeated, the Holy Spirit invoked, we find that the community is sharing in communion, that they are all doing their part in ministering to God’s people and preparing them to minister in the world.

As far as Fr. Arango is concerned…. Well, it’s their sandbox in their playground, so they get to make their own rules. While I probably would have opted to send my brother priest to bed without his supper after giving him a firm talking to, rather than carte blanch throwing dozens, maybe thousands of innocently baptized people into a kind of spiritual no-mans land, I have to say that the innovation that Fr. Anango committed was probably not all that well thought out… even though it probably felt good.

My own tendency is to stay close to the text, or at least not stray too far from it.

At the same time, I try not to get too bent out of shape. To you folks who like to do your extra “Alleluia” at the end of the dismissal, all I can say “have at it” (at least until we get to Lent). Yeah, the text says two. Y’all wanna throw in a third? Whatever…! With the one caveat (and this is where I think Fr. Arango may have tripped up)… which is this: “is it for the good of the Body of Christ?” “Does it bring glory to God?” or… do I think I’m being cute, or clever, or titilating? 

Is it about “me” or is it about “we?”

Because if it is about “me” and not about “we,” the Community, then I think that perhaps it ought to be prayed about or discussed with your spiritual director or even, ahem, your priest.

There is another reason that I will tend to hew closely to the text when it comes to liturgy.

I promised.

When I was ordained, I not only signed a piece of paper, but I promised out loud in front of my bishop, my parish and diocesan community, the wider Church, and, oh yeah!, God, that I would live and style my life according to the “doctrine, discipline, and worship” of the church, as “this church has received them” and that I would be obedient to my Bishop, care for the people in every age and situation, and take part in the councils of the Church.

Now this obedience is not about simply being an automaton, but as St. Benedict of Nursia would teach his monks and nuns in his rule, learning to be obedient to our vows teaches us something of what it means to be obedient to God, whether to my ordination vows or our baptismal vows. Not that my denomination can’t be wrong or is never above reform, but the fact is I am still learning. As his disciple, I am still only an apprentice to Jesus, and one of the ways I learn the skills of being a Christian is to learn the craft and discipline of prayer, study, mercy, and service in the community that I have been led to by God and given myself to in faith. 

Which is why I am careful about toying with the liturgy too much. Our Prayer Book offers a lot of flexibility, and my experience of our Bishop (and others like him whom I’ve known over the years) is that he keeps a pretty light hand on the tiller and gives us local clergy and parishes a lot of flexibility to do cool stuff in cool ways, and we have tons of liturgical resources that we can draw upon. But for all that, I won’t do anything that is outside of what our bishop says is right for this community or play too fast and loose with the rubrics of the Prayer Book.

Why? Because it is not about “me,” it is about “we.”

And at the end of the day, the defining characteristic of Christian living is “mercy.” As Jesus says, "Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also; and from anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt. Give to everyone who begs from you; and if anyone takes away your goods, do not ask for them again. Do to others as you would have them do to you.”

Too often Christians forget about the mercy part in favor of “telling you like it is” -- which oddly enough always tends to sound like “my way or the highway!” And that can feel pretty awful, especially when that attitude is dressed up in Christian-sounding lingo.

And there are times when we are tempted to eschew mercy for the newest, glitziest, most sure-fire church-growing method of the day, because it’s fun or looks cool. Too often we put aside mercy, and get in each others faces in the name of being "prophetic." Whatever. I’ve been doing this stuff for nearly four decades, God help me, and I’ve seen my share of these fads come and go, and even latched on to a few of my favorites. We have innovated, de-constructed, reformed, and re-modeled the church all over the place in that time. It is a tradition at least two millennia old! And a lot of it has been very good! And the rest, well... let’s just say that God is not so easily thwarted.

And you know what? We always seem to come back to same pattern handed to us from almost day one of daily offices (Morning and Evening Prayer), Personal Devotion, and Holy Eucharist, and the Anglican-Benedictine balance of worship, doctrine, and action. Even after 500+ years since the great Reformation re-set, these still seem like a pretty solid way to live as a Christian community, whether it’s a traditional parish, an innovative store-front or street ministry, or a monastic community.  

How ever we choose to organize it, Jesus teaches us to always lead with mercy and to ground our common life on mercy, and to approach our neighbors lovingly and mercifully. And what keeps us from being too “judgey” or being too “clever” starts with remembering that we live in Christian community as baptized members of the Body of Christ, and that we have received mercy in abundance through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. And as we have received mercy, we are invited to live mercifully and so show God’s mercy and love to everyone we meet every day.

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Here is a link to the bulletin for the 7th Sunday after the Epiphany.

Here is a link to a video of the liturgy at St. John's Episcopal Church, Clearwater

Here is a link to a video of the sermon.