Proper 10B, July 15, 2018
2 Samuel 6:1-5, 12b-19; Psalm 24
Ephesians 1:3-14; Mark 6:14-29
St Thomas the Apostle
The Rev’d Leo Loyola
I’m a grown man. And yet I don’t like eating vegetables.
Okay, that’s a lie. I do like some: lettuce, tomatoes, bell peppers, spinach, and—what I’ve always considered a vegetable, but my wife disagrees—corn.
Intellectually I know they are good for me. But knowing that doesn’t necessarily make them any more tasty or palatable.
When I bite into an unadulterated vegetable, I see Melody laughing, as I grit my teeth and make a face that looks like a fake-it-till-you-make-it smile.
I look at my plate, and I endure them. I tolerate them.
The same can be said about how we view theology.
When we hear or read Scripture each Sunday, we gravitate towards the narrative of the Gospels or the collective singing of the Psalms. But when a preacher starts talking about Christian doctrine and rhetoric, we suddenly wince and treat them as the vegetables of our faith.
Perhaps we see theology as cold, distant and impersonal. That it is too black-and-white or generalized, insufficient in addressing the specific, case-by-case needs of a local church.
And where it lacks in pastoral guidance, it easily makes up for in dense intellectualism.
The problem many have with Christian doctrine is that it attempts to make Christianity into a nice, neat box. And unless you can fit into this box, you are pushed out, excluded from finding a safe place in that space to thrive.
Without the pushback from Christian traditions long shaped by doctrine, for example, would there have even been a need for our General Convention to even consider resolution B0121?
On a pastoral level, consider the countless number tears shed and hearts broken, simply because of the exclusive lines drawn by a particular understanding of doctrine.
And yet, with all sincerity, and despite any perceived flaws, we still need to eat our vegetables.
The trick, it seems, is to do as my wife does in cooking for my finicky tastes. She begins by asking herself to prepare something healthy for the whole family, while addressing my finicky tastes.
Or, in the case of doctrine: how can we see doctrine help define our Christian community without excluding those that might not fit into a square hole?
Consider our reading from Ephesians.
When those words were written, the world was at the brink of welcoming a new century.
The Apostolic Age was nearly over. Soon the last of the Apostles would die, leaving behind other leaders to shape Christianity for future generations. What started out as a sect of Judaism quickly became populated and reshaped by their Gentile brethren.
For example, twenty years after Jesus’s crucifixion, Sunday and not the Sabbath—Friday evening through Saturday evening—became the primary time of religious observance.
Liturgical services now centered upon the actions and words of Jesus, recalling when he consecrated the bread and wine, saying “Do this in remembrance of me.”
And despite the Romans forcing Jews and Christians out of Palestine in 70 AD, this new form of Christianity was able to flourish independent of the Temple.
As the first century was coming to a close, Christianity had developing into its own unique identity, but it was in danger of forgetting its Jewish roots.
As dry as doctrine can often be, our reading from Ephesians held pastoral importance.
It was a reminder to the prominent and progressive Gentiles that they couldn’t just neglect or disregard Christianity’s Jewish traditions, simply because they didn’t practice their beliefs or found them irrelevant to their way of living.
It was a reminder to the Gentiles to not forget or neglect the importance of their Jewish-born and raised Christians among them. That they were not to be seen or treated as second-class citizens among their numbers.
Our reading from Ephesians does so by retelling the salvation history of the world. This promise of salvation was given not to all, but first to the Jews.
The writer tells us:
He destined us (us, meaning the Jews) for adoption as God’s children through Jesus Christ. In him, we have redemption in his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses. With all wisdom and insight he has made known to us the mystery of his will, according to his good pleasure that God set forth in Christ as a plan for the fullness of time (Ephesians 1:4-12)
He then includes how the Gentiles enter into this promises, never neglecting their own importance to God’s story:
In him you also (you, meaning the Gentiles) when you heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation, and had believed in him, were marked with the seal of the promise of the Holy Spirit (v.13)
He concludes by saying that God’s story of salvation is not just the Jews’ story or the Gentiles’ story, but our story. He writes:
This is the pledge of our inheritance toward redemption as God’s own people to the praise of his glory (v.14)
Many might view Christian doctrine and rhetoric as the part of our faith that holds us back from progressing and making us dangerously irrelevant in the 21st century.
But as we see from Ephesians, it can also remind us of our being, of our shared identity as followers of Christ, especially in times of uncertainty and turmoil. That no matter where people—Jew and Gentile alike—saw the proper direction of bringing the Christian faith into a new century, they must remind themselves that they were all in this together.
That they must remember to always eat their vegetables.
And then there is us.
As many of you know by now, an important resolution had passed at our most recent General Convention. And I can imagine the emotions felt by all.
For those who were behind Resolution B012, it is a time to rejoice. That after much prayer and tears shed, the whole of the Episcopal Church must now allow same-sex unions performed in their parishes. For many, it’s a step towards greater equality among all members across the Episcopal union.
At the same time, I can sense feelings of dread among those against the resolution. I can imagine many in this union feeling disappointed, if not betrayed, as if the national church is straying from long-held traditions and theological understandings.
Will this lead to further schisms of the Episcopal Church? I don’t know. I hope not.
Where some Christian doctrine has arguably divided God’s whole church, my hope is that we focus upon the doctrines that unites us, such as that found in Ephesians.
That regardless of our differences—theological, political, etc.—that we remember that we are all part of the same story, the same salvation history, the same union under one God.
Regardless of what we personally believe, may we have the grace to see and treat one another as one of us as one Body.
With grace and love and forgiveness, may we keep eating our vegetables.
