The tradition of the Rule of St. Benedict*, almost 1500 years old now, is known for both its practical wisdom as well as the detail which it provides for the arrangement of the Daily Offices. Speaking of how the Psalms ought to be employed, the Rule says:"Above all else we urge that if anyone finds this distribution of the psalms unsatisfactory, he should arrange whatever he judges better, provided that the full complement of one hundred and fifty psalms is by all means carefully maintained every week...We read, after all, that our holy Fathers, energetic as they were, did all this in a single day. Let us hope that we, lukewarm as we are, can achieve it in a whole week." (from Ch. 18, RB80, p. 215)
Quite analogously, Thomas Cranmer applied the same methodology to the 30 day Psalm cycle in the Book of Common Prayer. If the monks of old could accomplish such in the course of a week, let us hope that we, preoccupied as we are, can manage the same in a whole month. And now, on account of 20th century liturgical tinkering, a majority of the Psalms can be read at Morning and Evening Prayer over a period of 6 or 7 weeks. As the saying goes, 'not that there's anything wrong with that' per se, but it does indicate a tendency in both our prayer and preaching habits to somewhat marginalise the Old Testament generally and the Psalms in particular. So I rejoice on these Sundays when Morning Prayer is our service order because not only can the Psalms be preached on from the pulpit (as at any other time), but also proclaimed in the context of public worship, the very function for which they were composed originally.
So we read this morning in Psalm 112:2 "His seed shall be mighty upon earth; the generation of the faithful shall be blessed." From St. Augustine's "Exposition on the Psalms": "The Apostle witnesses, that the works of mercy are the seed of the future harvest, when he says, 'Let us not be weary in well doing, for in due season we shall reap;' [Galatians 6:9] and again, 'But this I say, He which sows sparingly, shall reap also sparingly.' [2 Corinthians 9:6] But what, brethren, is more mighty than that not only Zacchaeus should buy the kingdom of Heaven by the half of his goods, [Luke 19:8] but even the widow for two mites, [Mark 12:42] and that each should possess an equal share there? What is more mighty, than that the same kingdom should be worth treasures to the rich man, and a cup of cold water to the poor? (newadvent.org/fathers/1801111.htm) And so here we have two significant things going on. The first is a preview of the theme in the Epistle about working mercy and that in the Gospel lesson about the nature of the harvest.
The second is the noting of both Zacchaeus and the widow giving away that which was dearest to them. For Zacchaeus it was the money he had stolen by means of legally acceptable fraud; for the widow it was all that she had to provide for herself in this life. In some ways, they couldn't be more different, but here St. Augustine is considering them as two sides of the same coin, so to speak. Though he uses the phrase “buy the kingdom of heaven”, it should be understood as a rhetorical examination, What is it worth to you? Once again, the same question is being put to us that I brought up last time only in different words: What is it worth to you? - Who do you say that I am? In response, are we willing, like these two people given as examples, to surrender everything? And not just money, but all those other things most dear to us: comfort and security, ego, pretense, anger, resentment, fear, anxiety, suspicion, etc. It's all got to go. And if that sounds impossible? Well, just look carefully at the Cross where literally everything has already been surrendered.
The Epistle today is somewhat unusual as it is not an exact quote from the Authorised Version of the Bible. Likewise on Trinity 15, the Gospel lesson on that date is taken from the American Standard Version, which is a late 19th, cent. update of the good old King James. Whereas we heard about “a heart of compassion”, if you flip to Colossians 3:12 in the KJV you will read “bowels of mercies”. The late Fr. Lou Tarsitano, preaching on this day at St. Andrew's Church in Savannah, GA. back in 2000, had this to say: "[W]hile 'a heart of compassion' is an effort to provide an example of what that strange expression means, it hides more than it reveals....Thus, St. Paul approaches the mystery of human life, body and soul, on this earth, when he says, 'Put on bowels of mercies.' He means more even than 'love' and more even than 'a heart of compassion.' He expects us to call up every kind of mercy, even for those that we do not approve of or for those who have made themselves our enemies, from our 'guts' – from everything that is in us, from everything that makes us who we are. He expects us to become the living examples of mercy, and not merely to think about it, and especially when some other person doesn't deserve mercy in our ordinary human calculations." (lectionarycentral.com/epiphany/Tarsitano.html) And if that sounds impossible? Well, just look carefully at the Cross where literally everything has already been accomplished.
Speaking of mercy, we now move from our own receipt of instruction by St. Paul to God's own example in the Gospel lesson. It seems that the unidentified “enemy” was not content merely to destroy all or a portion of the future harvest, but wanted rather to plant so much confusion that the sower wouldn't be able to tell what he was even looking at. I think that describes us in our post-Edenic, lapsarian state quite well, don't you?
And just as Newtonian mechanics are quite sufficient to describe the functionality of matter and energy in the universe on a macroscopic scale but cannot accurately guide us down to a quantum level of understanding what it is that really structures that which we observe, just so in moral theology the “Newtonian world” (so to speak) of the Covenants given to Noah and Abraham, the Commandments given to Moses that followed and the Natural Law before them becomes insufficient to describe the person redeemed by and justified in Christ. The Resurrection literally changes everything and reveals the foundational structure of what we have been observing throughout the course of recorded salvation history, including the fact that the harvest is not ours to accomplish, but only to partake of.
Consider what Fr. Robert Hart says about the Gospel lesson: "The plants that are called tares are very much like wheat in appearance, but they lack the nutritional properties of wheat. You can’t eat from these weeds. However, it is very difficult to distinguish with the eye between the tares and true wheat....No, the Lord does not uproot the wheat in order to destroy the tares. Consider what it would mean if He did. Look at Saint Paul. If ever there was a tare that deserved uprooting, it was the persecutor of the Church, Saul of Tarsus. He had been confident in his own righteousness as a Hebrew of Hebrews, a Pharisee who was, as touching the Law of Moses, blameless. And, the crowning virtue of his righteousness was his zeal that he demonstrated by persecuting the Church. When the Lord Jesus appeared to him, as he approached the Damascus Gate, and was knocked to the ground, Saul learned that his crowning achievement of righteousness was actually the great sin of persecuting none other than Messiah Himself by persecuting His people. What had been in Saul's mind the seal and mark of his righteousness, was in reality a filthy rag, a grievous sin. And, at the same moment that he was being made aware of the enormity of his guilt, he was being shown mercy, called from the darkness of ignorance and sin into the light of Christ, and to the righteousness that comes by faith in Him. It is no wonder that this whole theme would dominate the message of what, today, we call Pauline theology. And so it is, this one-time enemy of the Church became Saint Paul the Apostle.” (http://anglicancontinuum.blogspot.com/2014/02/fifth-sunday-after-epiphany.html)
Here is the lesson for us. Rather than getting all worked up over the future condition of one person or another (tares or wheat, how can we even discern?!? Yet it remains sorely tempting to try), simply pray for the conversion and salvation of all, especially those who seem particularly unlovable and undesirable or just plain wicked after the example of Ananias in Acts 9. Remember too, that it is quite likely that there are those who think the same about you or I (i.e. unlovable, undesirable, just plain wicked). Please God, they will pray for our own conversion of heart as well. We are called to love all and to forgive all, even as Christ has forgiven us. And if that sounds impossible? Well, just look carefully at the Cross where literally everything has already been forgiven. And that unfathomable harvest of Divine mercy, that locus of compassion, leads us right back into the Psalms where they are blessed who fear the Lord and take great delight in his commands.
*Speaking of which, if you haven't read it yet, I heartily endorse Rod Dreher's "The Benedict Option". My only real disagreement with Dreher is his assumption that the post-Constantinian Church-State-cultural cooperative (in all its various forms) was ever a good thing that we should strive to someday be able to return to. (See my previous post and feel free to disagree with it. That is simply my opinion.)
Quite analogously, Thomas Cranmer applied the same methodology to the 30 day Psalm cycle in the Book of Common Prayer. If the monks of old could accomplish such in the course of a week, let us hope that we, preoccupied as we are, can manage the same in a whole month. And now, on account of 20th century liturgical tinkering, a majority of the Psalms can be read at Morning and Evening Prayer over a period of 6 or 7 weeks. As the saying goes, 'not that there's anything wrong with that' per se, but it does indicate a tendency in both our prayer and preaching habits to somewhat marginalise the Old Testament generally and the Psalms in particular. So I rejoice on these Sundays when Morning Prayer is our service order because not only can the Psalms be preached on from the pulpit (as at any other time), but also proclaimed in the context of public worship, the very function for which they were composed originally.
So we read this morning in Psalm 112:2 "His seed shall be mighty upon earth; the generation of the faithful shall be blessed." From St. Augustine's "Exposition on the Psalms": "The Apostle witnesses, that the works of mercy are the seed of the future harvest, when he says, 'Let us not be weary in well doing, for in due season we shall reap;' [Galatians 6:9] and again, 'But this I say, He which sows sparingly, shall reap also sparingly.' [2 Corinthians 9:6] But what, brethren, is more mighty than that not only Zacchaeus should buy the kingdom of Heaven by the half of his goods, [Luke 19:8] but even the widow for two mites, [Mark 12:42] and that each should possess an equal share there? What is more mighty, than that the same kingdom should be worth treasures to the rich man, and a cup of cold water to the poor? (newadvent.org/fathers/1801111.htm) And so here we have two significant things going on. The first is a preview of the theme in the Epistle about working mercy and that in the Gospel lesson about the nature of the harvest.
The second is the noting of both Zacchaeus and the widow giving away that which was dearest to them. For Zacchaeus it was the money he had stolen by means of legally acceptable fraud; for the widow it was all that she had to provide for herself in this life. In some ways, they couldn't be more different, but here St. Augustine is considering them as two sides of the same coin, so to speak. Though he uses the phrase “buy the kingdom of heaven”, it should be understood as a rhetorical examination, What is it worth to you? Once again, the same question is being put to us that I brought up last time only in different words: What is it worth to you? - Who do you say that I am? In response, are we willing, like these two people given as examples, to surrender everything? And not just money, but all those other things most dear to us: comfort and security, ego, pretense, anger, resentment, fear, anxiety, suspicion, etc. It's all got to go. And if that sounds impossible? Well, just look carefully at the Cross where literally everything has already been surrendered.
The Epistle today is somewhat unusual as it is not an exact quote from the Authorised Version of the Bible. Likewise on Trinity 15, the Gospel lesson on that date is taken from the American Standard Version, which is a late 19th, cent. update of the good old King James. Whereas we heard about “a heart of compassion”, if you flip to Colossians 3:12 in the KJV you will read “bowels of mercies”. The late Fr. Lou Tarsitano, preaching on this day at St. Andrew's Church in Savannah, GA. back in 2000, had this to say: "[W]hile 'a heart of compassion' is an effort to provide an example of what that strange expression means, it hides more than it reveals....Thus, St. Paul approaches the mystery of human life, body and soul, on this earth, when he says, 'Put on bowels of mercies.' He means more even than 'love' and more even than 'a heart of compassion.' He expects us to call up every kind of mercy, even for those that we do not approve of or for those who have made themselves our enemies, from our 'guts' – from everything that is in us, from everything that makes us who we are. He expects us to become the living examples of mercy, and not merely to think about it, and especially when some other person doesn't deserve mercy in our ordinary human calculations." (lectionarycentral.com/epiphany/Tarsitano.html) And if that sounds impossible? Well, just look carefully at the Cross where literally everything has already been accomplished.
Speaking of mercy, we now move from our own receipt of instruction by St. Paul to God's own example in the Gospel lesson. It seems that the unidentified “enemy” was not content merely to destroy all or a portion of the future harvest, but wanted rather to plant so much confusion that the sower wouldn't be able to tell what he was even looking at. I think that describes us in our post-Edenic, lapsarian state quite well, don't you?
And just as Newtonian mechanics are quite sufficient to describe the functionality of matter and energy in the universe on a macroscopic scale but cannot accurately guide us down to a quantum level of understanding what it is that really structures that which we observe, just so in moral theology the “Newtonian world” (so to speak) of the Covenants given to Noah and Abraham, the Commandments given to Moses that followed and the Natural Law before them becomes insufficient to describe the person redeemed by and justified in Christ. The Resurrection literally changes everything and reveals the foundational structure of what we have been observing throughout the course of recorded salvation history, including the fact that the harvest is not ours to accomplish, but only to partake of.
Consider what Fr. Robert Hart says about the Gospel lesson: "The plants that are called tares are very much like wheat in appearance, but they lack the nutritional properties of wheat. You can’t eat from these weeds. However, it is very difficult to distinguish with the eye between the tares and true wheat....No, the Lord does not uproot the wheat in order to destroy the tares. Consider what it would mean if He did. Look at Saint Paul. If ever there was a tare that deserved uprooting, it was the persecutor of the Church, Saul of Tarsus. He had been confident in his own righteousness as a Hebrew of Hebrews, a Pharisee who was, as touching the Law of Moses, blameless. And, the crowning virtue of his righteousness was his zeal that he demonstrated by persecuting the Church. When the Lord Jesus appeared to him, as he approached the Damascus Gate, and was knocked to the ground, Saul learned that his crowning achievement of righteousness was actually the great sin of persecuting none other than Messiah Himself by persecuting His people. What had been in Saul's mind the seal and mark of his righteousness, was in reality a filthy rag, a grievous sin. And, at the same moment that he was being made aware of the enormity of his guilt, he was being shown mercy, called from the darkness of ignorance and sin into the light of Christ, and to the righteousness that comes by faith in Him. It is no wonder that this whole theme would dominate the message of what, today, we call Pauline theology. And so it is, this one-time enemy of the Church became Saint Paul the Apostle.” (http://anglicancontinuum.blogspot.com/2014/02/fifth-sunday-after-epiphany.html)
Here is the lesson for us. Rather than getting all worked up over the future condition of one person or another (tares or wheat, how can we even discern?!? Yet it remains sorely tempting to try), simply pray for the conversion and salvation of all, especially those who seem particularly unlovable and undesirable or just plain wicked after the example of Ananias in Acts 9. Remember too, that it is quite likely that there are those who think the same about you or I (i.e. unlovable, undesirable, just plain wicked). Please God, they will pray for our own conversion of heart as well. We are called to love all and to forgive all, even as Christ has forgiven us. And if that sounds impossible? Well, just look carefully at the Cross where literally everything has already been forgiven. And that unfathomable harvest of Divine mercy, that locus of compassion, leads us right back into the Psalms where they are blessed who fear the Lord and take great delight in his commands.
*Speaking of which, if you haven't read it yet, I heartily endorse Rod Dreher's "The Benedict Option". My only real disagreement with Dreher is his assumption that the post-Constantinian Church-State-cultural cooperative (in all its various forms) was ever a good thing that we should strive to someday be able to return to. (See my previous post and feel free to disagree with it. That is simply my opinion.)
