Epistle: 1 Corinthians 8:8-9:2
Gospel: Matthew 25:31-46

But take care that this liberty of yours does not somehow become a stumbling-block to the weak… So by your knowledge those weak believers for whom Christ died are destroyed. But when you thus sin against members of your family, and wound their conscience when it is weak, you sin against Christ.

We are given liberty in Christ. But Christianity is, at heart, a religion of communion: communion with God – but that communion with God is only ever experienced (except in rare cases) as communion with each other, here. Our healing, our salvation, our purpose in life is found in the other, in the stranger, in the person next to us, in our neighbour. The Lord says to “love your neighbour as if he was your own self.” In essence: that person over there is me. I am not. He is.

I am defined in my relationships, only.

My personhood is only present in communion with others.

You do not define me (that would be judgement) and neither do I define me (that would be pride). Rather: our relationship defines us.

Paul hints to this in the Epistle today. Jesus touches on it in the Gospel: At the Judgement we shall be judged on our relationships to others as if each relationship to another was to Jesus himself. As if each action we make is somehow for or against this inter-personal communion and as if each action, therefore, effects our relationship with God.

I was 38 before I did something that I’ve regretted for years and can not undo.

Each of us must have a story of “the one that got away”, but I have a story of someone whom I drove away.

And I can not undo it. And daily I regret doing so; live with guilt over doing so, even though I know he is unabashedly more happy now than ever he would have been with me. But I was an ass and I caused him pain – not once but twice in the break up – out of my own pride and my own inability to love back. And I deserve what I get for that, what “karma” I pay for that. And I shall be asked on Judgement day about that.

There are a number of sins that I shall be asked about, I’m certain. The questions won’t be about rules I broke, per se: none about fasting or commandments or mitzvot. Rather, I shall be asked how I made each relationship better or worse. Did I feed or clothe those whom God has given me to love? Or did I send them away scratching the dirt?

The EPistle today makes it clear: we don’t give up meat today and for all of Lent because eating meat is a sin; but rather we do so to train ourselves to love our neighbour. This process is painful. It’s a struggle. But in the end we set out to heal by God’s grace all the things we’ve broken by our own pride. Some of the healing can be done in this life – and some not at all.

Healing, don’t forget, is just another word for Salvation: and no one of us can be saved alone. Salvation is a restoration of that communion we enjoy fully in God.

There are those who read the Gospel today to refer only to other Christians (specifically, in the first century context, to Christians in prison for their faith). There are others – including me – who read these verses to refer to *anyone*. This latter reading forces us to consider those who are not up to snuff, who are not really “Our sort”. Nudge nudge, wink wink.

There are many who don’t want to hang out with “my sort of Christian” (Define that however you will). But these verse don’t ask me to consider that: instead even if they want to make me stumble and fall – I need to take care not to make them fall.

In the light of today’s Epistle, the questions at the last judgment are not summed up as “Did anyone make you stumble?” but rather “Did you make anyone else stumble?”

CS Lewis has his Tempter Demon, Screwtape, say this:

We have quite removed from men’s minds what that pestilent fellow Paul used to teach about food and other unessentials–namely, that the human without scruples should always give in to the human with scruples. You would think they could not fail to see the application. You would expect to find the ‘low’ churchman genuflecting and crossing himself lest the weak conscience of his ‘high’ brother should be moved to irreverence, and the ‘high’ one refraining from these exercises lest he should betray his ‘low’ brother into idolatry. And so it would have been but for our ceaseless labour. Without that the variety of usage within the Church of England might have become a positive hotbed of charity and humility.

Now – be mindful that for those reading the book in situ, the language of “altar” vs “table” or “mass” vs “holy communion” were issues of idolatry vs irreverence. They were clearly doctrinal issues related to salvation. To us they might sound silly but these questions hold exactly the same place in their time that questions of sex and sexuality hold for us. Questions of sacramentology and praxis are exactly the same issues as sex.

How do we deal with Church in such a way as to avoid saying “we’re right and they are going to hell”?

My first project this lent to to ask forgiveness of the person I harmed. My goal is to get that done this week or next, in our liturgical context of Forgiveness Sunday. Will he forgive me? I don’t know. Will God?

I believe God will ask him first.

How will each of us fair on Judgment Day? Let us each ask our neighbours.

Sir, I see that you are a prophet.

T HAS To be one of the great toss-off lines in the Bible. Jesus shows up, proclaims his messiah-ship and then accuses the woman of serial monogamy. (Why else would she be coming to the well in the middle of the day if not to avoid the gossip of housewives?) and she turns and says, “I see. Yer a prophet.”

Or maybe, “I get it: yer a prophet.”

When this pericope of The Samritan Woman is read properly we should even get a laugh there.

While these stories of the lectionary may or may not be historical, they are certainly not presented in historical order. This lesson is given to us now, leading us to the baptismal time of post-pentecost: and it is a teaching lesson. The laughter we hear should be directed inwardly – for which of us ever arrived at “Jesus is Lord” without first deciding “this man is a prophet”? And as we laugh at our own short comings in perceiving Jesus, we can hear the rest of this story.

There are a couple of things going on here – one I’m quite good at, and one I’m horrible at.

There have been many times in my journey when I’m convinced that Jesus is a prophet or a “Good Teacher” as the saying goes. I’m especially thinking of the times when I was a pagan and, convinced that all religions teach the same thing, I lumped Jesus in with Confucius, Plato and Moses. And anyone is welcomed to do so. Our woman here is lumping Jesus in with Moses, Isaiah and Jeremiah. “Worshipping God in Spirit and Truth”, “Loving Enemies”, “Seek God first and all things will follow”, these all make good sense.

But we have to mutilate the Gospel to get there – cutting out the passages where Jesus says annoying things like “I and the Father are one” and “I am the bread of Life” and “Before Abraham was, I Am”. And, to do so, we have to assume we know a lot more about Jesus than did the earliest Christians (and even one generation away, some of them were taught by people who knew this man in the flesh.) Or else, you have to say, this man was clearly a raving lunatic. Because if he is a prophet, he’s also making some looney-tunes claims on top of everything else.

And while even the itinerant schizophrenic man on the corner might occasionally say something very wise, he’s still not the sort of person you’d trust for showing you the way to God.

But what if itinerant schizophrenic on the corner actually is God?

One of the hymns for Matins today says

Finding the woman of Samaria by the well of Jacob, Jesus, who covers the earth with clouds, asked water of her. O the wonder! He who rides on the Cherubim converses with a woman who is a harlot. He who hung the earth upon the waters, asks for water. He who pours out springs and pools of water, seeks water, as he wishes truly to draw her who is hunted by the warlike foe, and to quench with the water of life the thirst of her who is aflame with foul desires, as he alone is compassionate and loves mankind.

God has come to earth asking for water: coming to us to ask for care and sustenance. How astounding is that? God stands before us and asks our help. What do we do to learn from him?

And that’s the important point in the first part of the story, I think. This man is not just “a prophet” but the “Savior of the world” as the other Samaritans say at the end of the story.

But there is something else going on here.

His disciples came and were astonished that he was speaking with a woman, but no one said, “What do you want?” or, “Why are you speaking with her?”

Speaking with a woman – without a chaperone – is a bit of a risk for a Jewish man. But full daylight and out in public and all, it’s ok. And his disciples show a proper respect here to their teacher’s decision: John Chrysostom says,

Still in their amazement they did not ask Him the reason, so well were they taught to keep the station of disciples, so much did they fear and reverence Him. For although they did not as yet hold the right opinion concerning Him, still they gave heed unto Him as to some marvelous one, and paid Him much respect.

The Apostles know enough not to Question Jesus about what he is doing in reaching out beyond his own people to draw these others to God. And, indeed, elsewhere (for example, in the ER Apostolic reading for today) when God reaches out to strangers it is God’s faithful followers who know best to keep their mouths shut and watch God’s work in silent praise.

I, on the other hand…

I must confess that most often I want to make sure that God’s going it right, you know – that he’s drawing you along the right path and, by that I mean that he’s drawing you along the same path that he drew me. This says less about God than about me – because, minus God in that equation, I must be right, yes?

I read recently about a survey of people leaving Church for various reasons. The reasons most often cited were Judgementalism and Hypocrisy among Christians, failing to live up to the teachings of Jesus. Then this same survey gets cited by clergy, “church growth” specialists, liturgists and cultural critics as clear evidence that we need to “fix” church, make it “relevant” and “more accessible”.

Anyone see the humour in this yet?

A group of people who claim to follow God in the way of Jesus are judging their sisters and brothers for judging.

And then others come along and say, “See, we told you we needed to change things!” And start to judge those who were there first.

The level of hypocrisy goes up geometrically rather than arithmetically.

Of course, wanting to spread things around, I’m sure the first group judged the second group too.

And I’m either calling people on their BS or else judging them as well… Without naming names:

A lot of folks in the liberal and conservative camps of most denominations (including Orthodoxy and Indy Catholicism) are quite happy to judge one another.

A lot of folks on the liturgical spectrum (from traditionalist to revisionist) are quite happy to judge each other.

A lot of folks in the “Emergent Church” and the “Institutional Church” are quite happy to judge each other.

A lot of folks in various ecclesial communities are quite happy to judge each other across denominational lines.

Romans and Orthodox are quite happy to judge the rest of us (and then say, “Well, if it’s true we’re not being prideful and judgemental”). But a lot of Protestants are quite happy to judge the RCs and EOs as well.

And if you’re wondering how I’m using “judge” here: we’re daring to question Jesus about the way his followers are working out their salvation with him. We’re quite willing to cross a line the Disciples were not willing to cross in Samaria. We’re failing “to keep the station of disciples” out of our fear and reverence. We’re quite happy to KNOW how God will act in someone else’s life – and to point out God’s missteps if he should shatter our expectations.

Maybe God is really working in the lives of Fred Phelps and Peter Akinola, Robert Duncan and Ted Haggard. Maybe God is really working in the lives of Jack Spong and John Dominic Crossan, Jay Bakker and Kevin Thew Forrester. Maybe God is really working in the lives of “them”. And we have to explore the slightest possibility that “we” are wrong.

Maybe.

In the RCL Lections for today, Philip is sent to teach the Gospel to a Eunuch.

Philip is both Jewish and a Hellenised citizen of the Roman world. While Eunuchs are a common part of his Roman life, Judaism, at least, teaches that to be a fully active participant in the Jewish community one had to get married and produce offspring. Eunuchs, of course, could not do that. Although my available references conflict as to the status of Eunuchs in the Jewish tradition, this much is true: they could not have children. Philip is breaking a cultural barrier in reaching out to a non-Jew and a Eunuch, no less. And doing so firm in the knowledge that, following his departure, God will continue to work out the salvation of the Eunuch in his own time and way.

How many of us trust God to do that without judging God for doing it?