Sunday, March 3, 2013

Knowing Each Other As God Knows Us: Sermon, 3rd Sunday of Lent


Many of us have had to look on
while someone we love lingered
for a long time, waiting and waiting.
Sometimes our doctors were able
to show their knowledge
for the whole person, body and soul.
They were able to help you see
when it was time to let your loved one go.
Other doctors relied exclusively
on the knowledge they gained in medical school.
That knowledge is of the physical body,
broken down into its many parts.
Their sole focus was on the diseased part,
and healing that diseased part.
And in that focus, they lost sight of the person.
They knew the part,
but didn’t know the person.

To “know” something is to take it apart,
and analyze its different parts
without any emotion to cloud our objectivity.
Knowledge of “facts” leads to understanding
how something works, and how to manipulate it.
To manipulate something is to control it
to our personal advantage.
Human knowledge is about controlling something,
or someone.

Then the LORD said,
“I have surely seen the affliction
of my people who are in Egypt
and have heard their cry...
I know their sufferings,
and I have come down to deliver them.”
First, God observes the Israelites’ misery.
Then God hears their moaning and weeping.
And then, God “knows” their sufferings.
God didn’t know their sufferings
when he observed them,
nor when God heard them.
Human knowledge is observing and hearing.
But God’s knowledge is deeper
than sight and hearing.
God “knows” the Israelites’ suffering
in the same way that Adam “knew” Eve.
God’s knowing is seeing, hearing, and feeling.
For God made all things and loves all things.
And when God’s creatures rebel
against their maker,
they hurt their maker along with each other.

None of us is God.
None of us can “know” as God knows.
And that’s a good thing.
Human beings cannot bear God's knowledge.
In fact, all of us have “known”
enough of other human beings
to sometimes say, “Enough!”
As it says in Genesis,
human beings were made in God’s image.
And the saddest part of that image
is that we can choose evil.
We can choose to ignore the instinct
to act for the good of others.
We can choose to ignore our connection
to all living things,
and act only for ourselves
at the expense of other living things.
Yes indeed, the human race, among all the animals,
is unique.

But here we all are this Sunday morning,
seeing each other,
hearing each other,
and in baby steps, learning to “know” each other.
That is not an easy thing to do.
“Church” is not an easy thing to do.
In fact, “church” may be
the hardest thing to do,
because to “know” each other
is to be vulnerable to each other.
But we who call ourselves Christ’s Church
are here because the only thing worse
than hurting each other
is to live, and die, alone;
to live, and die, in our broken parts,
without anyone ever knowing the whole person;
without anyone ever knowing us
for who we are.

But the God who spoke to Moses
from the burning bush
“knows” us,
“knows” our scars,
and “knows” the scars we have inflicted.
And God the Son,
with whom we are walking
on his Way of the Cross this Lent,
He “knows” all our scars, and still says,
“Father, forgive them,
for they know not what they do.”
No, we don’t “know” what we do.
But God does, and still God says,
“I have come down to deliver them.”
Let us choose to be “known” by God—
our own scars and the scars we have inflicted—
And let that be the first step
to knowing each other
as God knows us, and loves us.

No comments:

Post a Comment