Pentecost 2
By the Reverend Martha Frances
Year A, Pentecost 2, Proper 3
25 May 2008 8:00 only
Text: Matthew 6: 24-34
Other Readings: Isaiah 49: 8-16; Psalm 131; I Corinthians 4: 1-5
A man riding in a taxi wanted to speak to the driver, so he leaned forward & tapped him on the shoulder. The driver screamed, jumped up in his seat, hit his head, & jerked the wheel in the process. The car ran up over a curb, demolished a street lamp, & came to a stop inches from a shop window.
The startled passenger said, "I didn't mean to frighten you. I just wanted to ask you something."
The taxi driver replied: "It's not your fault, sir. It's my 1st day as a cab driver. I've driven a hearse for the past 25 years."
How hard it is for us to change a pattern of thinking & acting which has developed over our lives! I have a relative whom we've all declared over the years we'll assign something for her to worry about because she isn't comfortable if she's not worrying about something or someone. I'm convinced that she's lived late into her 8th decade because she doesn't see how the rest of the family will manage if she's not there to help us, give us advice, & at least worry about us. Her concern is appreciated, but her worry is, well, worrisome!
When Jesus asks us not to worry about our lives in this passage, he isn't asking us to be Pollyannas in caring for our families, & I don't believe he expects us to forego buying life insurance because God will take care of our families if something happens to us. Rather, Jesus forbids us from living in anxiety about things of this world—from being overly careful—full of care. I have a friend who says we need to refrain from obsessing about the wreckage of the future. How many of us spend valuable time concerned about possibilities which never actually occur?
Nor does this admonition promise us that nothing bad will ever happen to us. In fact, the passage concludes with a restatement not to worry but adds that tomorrow will bring worries of its own; today's trouble is enough for today. Jesus doesn't promise us that we will avoid all hardship but rather encourages us to make faithful choices, beginning with our choosing FIRST the kingdom of God & all those things that we need for abundant life will follow. Jesus himself didn't avoid the cross, but he tells us that if tomorrow brings a cross, God can & will send the grace & strength to bear it. Though we may feel that we cannot possibly live through whatever next challenge faces us, our trusting God allows even our feebleness to be underwritten by God's eternal power & purpose.
Isaiah's poetry provides an image which I often invoke when praying with someone who is hospitalized, especially before surgery. The Jews have been in captivity in Babylon & Cyrus has just liberated them. Now they have to change their ways of living, learn a new relationship with each other & with God. Will God once more travel with them back to the Holy Land where the temple has been destroyed & life has to be built yet again? Isaiah tells the Jews, "Can a woman forget her nursing child, or show no compassion for the child of her womb? Even these may forget, yet I will not forget you. See, I have inscribed you on the palms of my hands."
Though this can be a comforting image to many of us, especially at times when our pain or concern for our own health makes it difficult for us to pray, I can assure you that this passage is even more poignant for women in prison who have often been estranged from loved ones as well as God. When women have been separated from their own babies, even when it has been due to their own poor choices, God's care for them which is even that intimate can be incredibly healing. We have a banner we use on a Kairos weekend which depicts two large outstretched hands, & on each weekend, we place the name of each inmate who is going through the weekend in those hands. For many of them, God's unconditional love becomes real to them when they see this scripture visually & hear it read. May it nourish you when you experience frightening, lonely moments. The psalmist gives us instructions for meditation on such an image: ". . .I still my soul & make it quiet, like a child upon its mother's breast; my soul is quieted within me."
As we enter into the summer & are separated from one another, & as we begin our evaluative work in discerning how God would have us as Hope parish fulfill our mission, may we be assured of God's never-failing care for us & allow faith in that promise to strengthen us so that God may do new things in us & through us beyond our parish into our community & world.
