Of Earth and Heaven, The Reverend David R. Williams, Pentecost XVI--Year B--September 24, 2006

Give us grace, O Lord, not only to hear your Word with our ears, but also to receive it into our hearts and to show it forth in our lives; for the glory of your great name.  Amen.
 
A grandmother, picking up her young grandson from a religion class, asks what the grandson has learned today. 
 
“We studied about the twenty commitments,” he says.  After a moment of silence, the grandmother says, “Oh, you mean the ten commandments?”
 
“How do you know so much?” the little guy responds.
 
A child hears “twenty commitments.”  We hear “ten commandments.”  Is there a message for us here?
 
“Grant us, Lord, not to be anxious about earthly things, but to love things heavenly,” begins the prayer for today.
 
Earthly things!  Can we list all of our earthly anxieties – wars, expansion of nations having access to nuclear weapons, world leaders on the offensive with each other, homeland security, big stores forcing little stores to close, spinach and e coli, extreme poverty throughout the world, personal health issues including paying for expensive medicines and treatments, roof shingles falling, church lawn needing to be mowed, paying the cable bill?
 
We can easily name the “earthly” matters of our lives.
 
Some people--friends, notable figures, even adversaries—seem to ride above the fray of worldly tension. A “Mother Teresa,” anxious only about the well-being of forgotten and neglected human beings, disregards her own wants and needs. The rock U-2 singer, Bono, is a cultural hero focused on “heavenly” rather than “earthly” in his quest to relieve the human sufferings of AIDS, poverty and hunger. 
 
We know other characters apparently detached from earthly tensions. Our church office knows several people, regular parish visitors with basic needs--a bus ticket, a meal, utility assistance.  These good folks could care less about Iraq and spinach and nuclear weapons.  Usually cheerful and willing to share their stories, often homeless yet upbeat and ready to start another day, these friends invite me into their simple lives.
 
They may not live in the extreme poverty of the Third World, they may not be altruists like Mother Teresa and Bono, yet their level of anxiety about “earthly” things is far more basic than my own.  
 
Perhaps loving “heavenly” things implies some detachment from the familiar, the routine, even the traditional which comfort us with a perception of stability. 
 
The grandson’s image of the Ten Commandments--the “twenty commitments”-- just may offer a clue to the intent of God through Moses.
 
Jesus has warned his closest friends of his own betrayal and death. He has revealed to his disciples that the Son of Man will, three days after death, rise again. Too, Jesus knows exactly the thoughts of his friends as they argue intensely with one another: 
 
“This is not the way the story is supposed to go.”  “How can Jesus be a Messiah, a Savior, a powerful King, a soldier, a Ruler, an earthly leader if he is humiliated, beaten and killed?” “This person, Jesus, could not be great, and for sure he could not be the Greatest.”
 
As Jesus challenges his disciples, he challenges you and me. The argument of the disciples is based on hubris, on pride of physical might and strength, on the victory of one at the expense of another. The argument is based on human anxiety and fear. 
 
“Grant us, Lord, not to be anxious about earthly things, but to love things heavenly.”
 
Most division and disagreement stems from very human anxiety and concern with my self. Jesus challenges his disciples to a new understanding.
 
In the early 1970’s a meeting is held at an urban church in Atlanta. Attending the meeting are community and church leaders who seek ways to live out Christian faith by more effectively serving the needs of poor brothers and sisters.
 
The pastor of the host church happens to be wrestling with a divisive issue with his own church board.  He hopes for guidance from this gathered group of leaders.
 
It seems the church board repeatedly has denied the pastor’s request to raise the salary f the parish custodian. Though the custodian loves his work as a ministry to others, he is prepared to quit and to find a higher-paying job. The custodian has six children, lives across town in inadequate, cramped housing, and has to take an hour’s bus ride each way since he cannot afford a car. 
 
“I guess there is nothing I can do,” the host pastor laments. 
 
One of the leaders of the assembly looks at him and says, “Sure, there is, that’s easy to solve.”
 
The pastor looks back, surprised but excited.  “Yes? What’s that?”
 
“How many children do you have?”
 
“Two.”
 
“Where do you live?”
 
“Oh…the church bought us a very nice house with four bedrooms just down the street.”
 
“How much money do you make?”
 
“I…I guess a total package of about “$65,000.”
 
“Well, there’s your answer,” says the guest clergyman.
 
“What?” the mystified host pastor.
 
“The janitor has six children.  You have just two.  All you need to do is switch houses.  Then the custodian’s family will have more room and no transportation problem. You can split your salary with him, and he will not have to go elsewhere to work. You can then live in his house on his current salary--and he can make it on your salary in your house. And you can forget the obstinate church board, too.  See, there’s your answer.”
 
The host pastor, ashen, staggers to his feet and quickly leaves the room.
 
The story is true.  The challenging pastor, Clarence Jordan, is an advocate of poverty-relief and founder of Koinonia Farm spiritual community. To this day, Mr. Jordan provides an active ministry. Another member of the meeting is Millard Fuller, later the founder of Habitat for Humanity.
 
In the words of St. Augustine, “Save me, Lord…but not yet.”
 
“Grant us, Lord not to be anxious about earthly things, but to love things heavenly…”
 
“The real source of the great mercy shown towards us,” another theologian has said, “lies in God seeing through us with the most terrifying clarity, yet looking upon that glimmer of heaven within us as of more worth than our all-too-obvious earthiness.”
 
Then Jesus takes a little child and puts the child among his disciples and says, “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me.”
 
The grandson may just have the key to wisdom.
 
Amen.