“IT IS BETTER FOR YOU . . .”

What do young children generally do when they don’t want to hear something?
They cover their ears with their hands, or they talk loudly, rapidly and even nonsensically – hoping to drown out the other person.
Some do both.

Many adults, on the other hand, are more sophisticated – but no less determined – in how we respond to unpleasant news.
Some of us cover our ears with our psychological hands – tuning out the other person, daydreaming, or making a mental to do list.
Some of us think or talk loudly, rapidly and even nonsensically in an effort to drown out the other person – preparing our counterpoints, interrupting the other person, or talking over them.

So we probably won’t be surprised if Jesus’ disciples have a hard time hearing what he’s about to say. He’s already pushed them to the outer edge of their understanding –

telling them that he, the Messiah, is about to suffer, die and be resurrected,
rebuking them for being unable to cast out an unclean spirit,
toppling their notions of what it means to be the greatest –

all of which they probably didn’t want to hear.

So, not surprisingly, Peter rebukes Jesus for daring to speak of himself as a suffering Messiah,
The disciples plead ignorance about their inability to cast out the unclean spirit,
And they all fall silent when Jesus questions their ideas about being the greatest.

This morning Jesus adds to their distress by telling them that they are not to stop someone from doing what they themselves couldn’t do just a few days ago – rid another of demons. Not only does he expect them to expand their circle to include ‘non-disciple’ types, he warns them that there will be grave consequences if they cause others to stumble. To top it off, he tells them that they should also get rid of whatever might cause them to stumble. Not exactly the things that they want to hear.

You and I live in a world in which aggression, violence and war seem to be the easiest way to settle conflict. Most of us, however, tend to shy away from using violence – towards others or ourselves – as a conflict-resolution skill. After all, we bear the name of the one who proclaims peace. Like the disciples before us, we may be tempted to cover our ears, tune Jesus out, or deny the harshness of his words – to them and to us:
“If your hand causes you to stumble, cut it off. . .
If your foot causes you to stumble, cut it off. . .
If your eye causes you to stumble, tear it out.”

How do we reconcile following someone who, on the one hand, preaches peace, love and justice, and on the other, uses such brutal, violent language?
How is the loving God we’ve been taught to believe in present in Jesus’ commands?
How can a God of love demand such things of his disciples?

Those who heard Jesus in his day would have been able to picture what he was saying – after all, the parts of the body to which he referred – hand, foot, eye – were the most susceptible to injuries in their rural, agricultural setting. So Jesus’ use of striking, familiar imagery to drive home his point would not have been as offensive to them as to our modern ears.

Although Jesus is not advocating self-mutilation, he is saying – in a powerful, difficult to ignore way – that it is better for us to get rid of those things that separate us from God. Even though the text points us to the future judgment, this does not mean that there are no present day consequences to our choices.

Maybe – just maybe – there are some things that appear to bring life when, in fact, all they do is lead to death.

How can we experience real peace if our hands are used to cling to money - robbing God of opportunity after opportunity to prove that God is faithful?

How can we experience real joy if our feet are used to hustle from one place to another day after day - robbing God of opportunity after opportunity to remind us that we are more than what we do?

How can we experience real love if our eyes are used to read the paper and watch the news, but not to study the Bible – robbing God of opportunity after opportunity to show us that the media have neither the only, nor the primary perspective on reality, and of the opportunity to teach us to value ourselves because of whose we are and not because of what we know.

But, as one parishioner wisely pointed out not too long ago, “It’s easy – so easy – to get caught up in the system.” And we live in a system that entices us to develop inauthentic selves – ones that are opposed to our true selves and to our real purpose in life.

In a reflection entitled “Friends” in the June 27th issue of Christian Century, Gregory Jones, dean of Duke’s Divinity School quotes from Meg Greenfield’s book, Washington, in which she writes: “What people find out in time is that the false self they are inhabiting is not much of a friend after all . . . They begin to live lives of pantomine, in which gesture is all. They spend more and more time attending social functions with ‘friends’ they don’t much like, smiling when they want to frown or yell or tell someone off. . . People who take this course will become increasingly lifeless.”

When we come to rely more upon those things that sustain the false self – money, a frantic schedule, knowledge-based power– than we do upon God, we begin the often slow, torturous process towards death. Like gangrene, the effects of living out of a false self spread– damaging our health, our relationships and our walk with God. Over time, life becomes a living hell. Perhaps – like any good parent – God loves us too much not to warn us of the consequences. So it is better – infinitely better – Jesus says, to cut them off. It may be painful at first, but isn’t it better to cut off what brings death so we can have life? The abundant, loving and joy-filled life that we long for – and that God dreams of for each of us.

As he continues his reflection, Jones reminds us that “our Christian communities . . . offer powerful alternatives to the world of pantomine. (He) asked a devout Christian who is also a well-known lawyer what sustains him in his profession. He described a small group of people in his church who had covenanted to meet every week to focus on their spiritual lives and their vocations. ‘My life has been very different, and my commitment to Christ much richer because of . . . these friends. They tell me what I need to hear, and I’m learning to tell them what they need to hear.” Such holy friends, Jones says, are “people who challenge the sins we have come to love, help us discern God’s work in our lives, and affirm the gifts that we are afraid to claim. . . (By) offering both challenge and support, holy friends help us to dream God’s dreams for the future.”

So the challenge before us – as individuals and as a community – is whether we will blindly embrace what brings death – or whether we will be vigilant and intentional – vigilant and intentional about seeking life?