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The Sacred Heart
Yonce Shelton
Community of Christ (Washington, DC)
October 5, 2008
Lectionary readings: Exodus 20:1-4, 7-9, 12-20
Psalm 19
Philippians 3:4b-14
Matthew 21:33-46
Prayer of the Day:
Falling in Love (by Fr. Pedro Arrupe, Society of Jesuits)
Nothing is more practical than finding God,
that is, than falling in love in a quite absolute, final way.
What you are in love with,
what seizes your imagination,
will affect everything.
It will decide what will get you out of bed in the morning,
what you will do with your evenings,
how you will spend your weekends,
what you read,
what you know that breaks your heart,
and what amazes you with joy and gratitude.
Fall in love, stay in love,
and it will decide everything.
Song of the Day: Life in Technicolor (Coldplay)
We started worship today by focusing on Psalm 19:14 — “Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable to you, O LORD, my rock and my redeemer.” — because in recent months heart has taken on deeper meaning for me. It has grabbed my attention in ways that make words and explanations inadequate. James Fowler develops this notion in Stages of Faith: The Psychology of Human Development and the Quest for Meaning. He writes about a stage of faith that:
“…has experienced the breaking of its symbols and the ‘vertigo of relativity.’ [This stage] is a veteran of critical reflection and of the effort to ‘reduce’ the symbolic, the liturgical and the mythical to conceptual meanings. But it cannot rest content with that strategy. It acknowledges the powerlessness of anything it can control to transform and redeem its myopia. It discerns the powerful residues of meaning that escape our strategies of reductive interpretation. With its attention to the organic and interconnected character of things [it] distrusts the separation of symbol and symbolized, sensing that when we neutralize the initiative of the symbolic, we make a pale idol of any meaning we honor. … [This stage] carries forward the critical capacities and methods of the previous stage, but it no longer trusts them except as tools to avoid self-deception and to order thoughts encountered in other ways.” (187-188)
A paraphrase might be that a person in this stage has realized how hard it is to grasp the full meaning of symbols previously analyzed and figured out; that we need to let powerful symbols keep shaping us without too much intellectual control. The heart, as a living symbol, has helped me understand this. Resting with the heart as I approach God and love, it’s harder to verbalize, explain, and justify everything I feel about faith. But it’s also comforting to simply know more and take a break from intricate theology.
Easing off on explanation means listening more; meditating more; feeling more. I asked when we gathered that you to try to feel (not think) what is on your heart. God connects with us in this way, just as others: scripture, reasoning, life events, etc. It’s easy to take a feeling in my heart and quickly turn it into thought then action. It’s harder to just be with that heartfelt sensation. But to resist the “so what?” question and process can improve our conversations with God and each other.
My recent epiphany about the heart came in July during a seven day silent Ignatian retreat. That was the first time I had really acknowledged and explored the Sacred Heart. What transpired over those days was an intense awareness of the heart of God: how it loves like ours; hurts like ours; breaks like ours; hopes like ours. As part of this process I began praying for God to show me what it feels like when I break God’s heart. I felt I needed to experience such pain so that I could better understand God’s love and grace. What I realized later that week was that God did not want me to look for pain. God wants me — and us — to feel God’s love; to receive it with gratitude. Our hearts are so crucial for this — more so than our minds. As Sirach, one of the Books of Wisdom, says: God “gave them a heart to think with” (17:6, New Jerusalem Bible).
This was a breath of fresh air. It was a move from a place of worry, fear, and judgment to one of comfort, trust, and peace. It was a move from checking spiritual boxes to receiving and offering thanks for the love of God given with Christ’s heart. With that shift came a better way of being and deeper prayer about loving others. It’s simple and complex. It feels so right, even though I may not be able to explain it.
Today’s passage from Exodus about the Ten Commandments, with its “do nots,” causes me to think about words, fear, restrictions, and negatives. While I understand the context and the importance in the Christian tradition, I think the Ten Commandments cannot be separated from the greatest commandment, according to Jesus, to “love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind” (Mt. 22:37). Heart first, then the rest. It’s a lot easier to take a set of criteria and judge ourselves and others than to ask if we are close enough to the heart of God, and if that drives our actions. The Ten Commandments remind me of my narrow, fearful, punitive focus on how I was hurting God. But the Psalmist enlightens me, as I was enlightened on my retreat. “The law of the Lord is perfect, reviving the soul; the decrees of the Lord are sure, making wise the simple; the precepts of the Lord are right, rejoicing the heart; the commandment of the Lord is clear, enlightening the eyes” (19:7-8). Making wise the simple. Enlightening the eyes. Jesus tried to show us the basics of love. He did that with his life and with his death — with his Sacred Heart.
The Bible’s progression teaches us about love; the kind of love that frees us to be molded and shaped each day by God. I argue that the more we turn our hearts over to Jesus, as little children should, the more our reading of the Ten Commandments should change. As we know love in deeper ways, the greatest commandment seems more urgent. Although I’m not sure he would look at this way, my college football coach seemed to understand the difference between the need for a list of team rules for immature players and when one simple rule could suffice for student athletes who had been held to higher standards and been selected for more than physical ability. His guideline for us: do what is right. And we understood. We knew right from wrong because of the experiences that got us there. There was little argument or spinning if you found yourself in his office. New Testament Christians should understand our history and journey in ways that limit the number of rules we need.
At the end of the Exodus passage, the people said to Moses: “do not let God speak to us, or we will die (20:19). We, a people of hope and love walking with Jesus, should not be afraid to hear God. We should not look for pain, but for the voice and presence in our hearts. Christ’s Sacred Heart matters so much.
The parable in today’s Gospel reading is followed by Jesus saying: “Therefore I tell you, the kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a people that produces the fruits of the kingdom” (Mt. 21:43). I don’t see how we produce fruits of the kingdom primarily from a set of restrictions and judgments. I think the fruits Jesus is calling for come when hearts are leading the charge; when actions stem from love, not checklists; from the moment, not the past. That’s hard because understanding what is in our hearts is foreign to the way the world works. It’s hard because it requires us to train our hearts to move from feeling to action in ways that reflect a deepening understanding of love — of Jesus.
The author of the poem I read earlier, Pedro Arrupe, has this to say about Christ’s heart and our hearts. (I apologize for the gender exclusive language.)
“Christ judges each man by his heart. … Christ insists again and again that the goodness or badness of man is in his heart. The exultation of man’s inner being stresses a line along which the prophets had hardly advanced at all, namely, that it depends on man’s inner self whether he is able to be incorporated into God’s Kingdom. The Old Testament image of the Kingdom is now definitively replaced. … Christ, defined by his heart, surpasses all the expectations of the Old Testament and is established as the key to the whole history of salvation” (In Him Alone is Our Hope: Texts on the Heart of Christ, 71-4).”
Being true to what is on my heart has meant working to flip switches when I experience certain feelings. When I experience guilt, I try to switch to gratitude; when judgment — empathy; when anger — forgiveness; when fear — courage. That’s what is on my heart right now. How I approach judgment seems especially important, and I am trying really hard to return that job to God. Maybe that’s why overreliance on the Ten Commandments is frustrating. Throw in how important it is to think about these switches with regard to enemies and I’m even more willing to admit I don’t know what it all means. All this represents, as the Psalmist says, the “meditation of my heart” that I hope is “acceptable to you, O Lord” (Ps. 19:14). Eventually that may turn into “words of my mouth” (19:14). And if it does, I hope it stays true to what I learn in my heart.
I’ve asked you during this service to feel and think from your heart, but we both know words have a role to play. I am well aware that this homily may be disjointed. It’s all pretty clear in my heart, but not so easy to articulate. That’s part of my point. The heart needs time. Our growth with God takes patience. We should be fine with admitting I don’t know and thinking out loud in community. It takes less energy to fake it, and my intuition is that God can work with us more easily when we don’t presume to have it all figured out.
If you think I needed more heart time with this before today’s word time, that’s fine! And it’s more than fine if you take it into your heart and allow its intention to help. Maybe that will even lead to a better way to share it with this community. Moreover, I hope something about this reminds you of the power of love, faith, and relationship. My message isn’t new, even if the packaging is. But what can be new is the work God can do with us if we loosen our grip on the reins and embrace the “vertigo of relativity” that James Fowler talks about.
Say yes with your heart. Know and feel God’s heart. Share your heart with Jesus, as he has shared his with you. See how that allows your heart to break for, and heal with, the hearts of others. “Fall in love, stay in love, and it will decide everything” (Arrupe). God has loved you into being and is pulling for you to be fruitful in doing what is right. Say yes, even though “There is no speech, nor are there words; their voice is not heard; yet their voice goes out through all the earth, and their words to the end of the world” (Ps. 19:3-4). |
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