| Rector’s
Meditation
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| “Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.” On this first Sunday in Lent, the Bible tells us to attend to matters of the soul in relationship to God and to matters of the heart in relationship to one another. When I was a young priest using the 1928 Prayer Book, I took great pride in being able to recite from memory the Ash Wednesday Gospel from Matthew because it was an offertory sentence in the old Prayer Book: Before that summary, Matthew talks about fasting and postures of penitence and the motives that accompany us in observing particular religious practices which on this Sunday might include the traditional giving up and taking on for Lent. Throughout the history of Judaism and throughout the Christian centuries, fasting and penitence both for the individual and for the community as a whole were complicated matters. Rules and exceptions to the rules and exceptions to the exceptions painted a picture of success and failure designed to drive even the most laid back among us to distraction and the most anxious among us to complete despair. Rigor—now there’s a threatening word!—was expected: “no pain, no gain,” “suck it up.” I sometimes wonder if I translated those phrases into Latin whether they’d make me feel better or be more palatable in some way. But in typical fashion, Jesus cuts to the chase and provides us with a laser-like observation that challenges the miasma of motives and practices and regulations religion becomes so fond of. “Where your treasure is, there will your heart be.” I sometimes recall that phrase by reversing the nouns, “Where your heart is, there will your treasure be.” And I have to admit that when we confront difficult times in our own lives or in the larger communities in which we live, matters of the heart begin to rise to the surface and stand out as especially important to us. The recession has certainly had that quality as all across America we hear stories of heartache because those things that are really important to us are threatened. And time and time again it’s family at the top of the list, or at least that which functions as family for those without. The recent disaster in Haiti continues to haunt my imagination, in addition to my sorrow for those who still suffer. I imagine what I would think of or what I would say if I were trapped under a collapsed building with every assurance I would not survive. And I’ve played that tape over and over again in my mind, and I always come to the same conclusion: “Tell Bev and the girls that I love them.” That’s what I would say if I had access to someone who could deliver that message. Or if not, my prayer would be to keep them safe and assured of my love. Jesus connects our hearts and our treasure in such a way that I can recall what many of you are able to recall, that my treasure has consistently followed my heart in providing for the wellbeing of my family and the costs associated with providing for home, education, medical facilities and treatment, all of those things that you are concerned about as well. It’s not self-less, however, because I receive a tremendous amount in my relationship with where my treasure goes, and my vocation provides me with an identity I value: being/doing what God wants me to be/do for others, but nonetheless for my own joy and fulfillment. Perhaps that’s why not every vocation is a paid vocation. We are not paid to be good parents, to be good friends, to be attentive volunteers. But these are opportunities God gives us to have a healthy heart apart from statin and exercise. But what about those who have no means by which they can fulfill their heart’s desire? What about those who have no schools for their children, no medicine, a standard of living significantly below the lowest poverty level we in the United States would ever experience? How does our treasure signify our heart’s desire for their wellbeing? That’s one opportunity some of will pursue this Lent: to combine the church’s treasure with your talent for a specific Lenten offering for micro-loan financing and training. It’s described in the bulletin insert, and it’s my personal hope that we can be creative and perhaps playful around this offering and that it will be an example of Bishop Lichtenberger’s classic “Rule for Lent” we have once again included in our bulletins: Fast from criticism, and feast on praise; |
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