Deuteronomy 30:15-20
Psalm 1
Philemon 1-21
Luke 14:25-33
The
choice in Deuteronomy set before the Israelites – and by extension, us their
descendants in faith – is pretty clear: “I have set before you life and death….Therefore
choose life...” (Deuteronomy 30:19) The
problem is that choosing life, often looks so much like death: “If anyone
comes to me and does not hate…even his own life, he cannot be my disciple. Whoever does not bear his own cross and come
after me cannot be my disciple.” (Luke 14:26-27) And we are left to ponder whether life – real
life – is something more than simply mere “living”.
Last
weekend I was at the diocesan ministry conference at ECCO, yet this idea of
choosing life kept buzzing through my head.
I am now almost to finish my fifth year in the diocese of San Joaquin,
and this last ministry conference was my third.
As I looked around there were so many new faces since that first year I
arrived. There was a black bishop and more
priests who were women; there were members and leaders of congregations who had
already returned to their one-time alienated properties; there was genuine enthusiasm
for those now training for ordained ministry – men and women – and for those
who continued as lay people to minister within and without the walls of their
buildings; there was a deeper connection and greater familiarity with the wider
Episcopal Church. As the program’s
leader spoke about forming missional communities, there was palpable energy and
excitement for the possibilities each of our communities has to go out into the
world and be the kingdom. In short,
there was life! But heavens, it took us
going through something that looked and felt a lot like death. For some of you, I know, it cut ties of
friendship and even kinship. For many
congregations – take for instance our sisters and brothers in Visalia – it cost
leaving the familiar, and literally becoming sojourners. For many throughout the diocese, it meant turning
away from accustomed ideas of what and who Church is, of how we define God and of
what defines people, of what determines who belongs. Nevertheless, looking into a seemingly dark
tunnel, looking into the unknown, the diocese moved through something that felt
a lot like dying, only to discover life more abundant, more honest, more
faithful.
Some
years ago t-shirts emblazoned with the words “Choose Life” were popular. The statement seemed simple and direct
enough, but the truth is that choosing life – real life – is not all that
easy. While the text in Deuteronomy
seems to pronounce the imperative clearly and succinctly, we should hardly take
it to mean that choosing life is anything but straightforward. Consider for a moment the context of the command
to “choose life” in Deuteronomy. It comes
only after surviving the horrors and indignities of slavery, and the dangerous flight
from Egypt. For the Hebrew slaves
choosing life meant literally going through the “valley and shadow of death”; and
while the angel of death did pass over them, it still passed near to them. Choosing life meant for them leaving the
certainties of Egypt, albeit as slaves, and going into the darkness of an
uncertain world. Choosing life meant
passing through the obscure waters of the Red Sea and into a new land, trusting
only in an unknown, faceless God. Without
food, water or even a map, this hardly would have seemed like choosing life,
but only almost certain death. In their
journey they would face hunger, thirst, faithlessness, disappointment and
frustration Yet, it was this all which
forged them into a people, and brought them into life, into a living relationship
with the living God.
Throughout
the gospels Jesus consistently reminds those who will listen of the
impoverished existence that passes for life among so many people, while at the
same time pointing out that not all which is dark, difficult or dangerous need necessarily
signal the end of things; after all, it is in the dark of the earth that the
seed is broken open, destroyed, only to be transformed into the tree. He reminds us that we if we want to live a
life which is genuine and abundant we usually find we must go through something
quite like death, and that there is simply no way around it: “Those who try to
make their life secure will lose it,” he says, “but those who lose their life
will keep it”. (Luke17:33) Still, very few
of us take this seriously; and so we shy away from anything which may look in
any way like death. We shy away from changing
accustomed patterns of living or relating – even when absolutely crucial to our
well-being, even when altering them would signal a more abundant life – we shy
away from them, because making the change may take us through times of
difficulty and darkness, a time when we must face the reality of our lives, and
perhaps die to some cherished past or fantasy.
We cry like the Israelites to Moses upon leaving Egypt: “What have you
done to us in bringing us out of Egypt?...[I]t would have been better for us to
serve the Egyptians than to die in the wilderness.” We do this in our work, our
national life, our relationships and even in our churches. And the irony of it all is, that in our
desperation to avoid anything uncomfortable, anything difficult or dark,
anything which may feel like dying, we make compromises with death itself. We convince ourselves that things are not as
bad as they feel, or we cover up the everyday deadness of our lives with possessions
or any myriad of distractions. We live
less fully, we ignore the reality of situations, we hide from the truth about
ourselves and about others, we disregard the real need among our sisters and
brothers, ignoring the ways in which our own compromises with death and death-dealing
structures impinge on the quality of their own lives.
Choosing
life means that we make no compromises with death or the forces of death, even
if things are difficult, even when we feel our safety is in danger, even in the
face of darkness; and we accept that living into abundant life is costly. Choosing life means real life for everyone,
not simply those who are have a safe grasp on the life’s necessities and
luxuries. Choosing life means we cease
making “deals” with death in order to continue in what only seems like life. For Christians choosing life means we pattern
our life on that of Jesus, who lived life most fully, most perfectly, without
fearing darkness or death, but rather confronting both honestly.
I
am proud of our diocese. I am proud of
the ways we have chosen life, even when the process felt dark and risky, when
it felt like we were being carried by our decisions into the frightful darkness
of death. I am proud too of our parish. Without going into details, more than once we
have made choices for life – choices which did not feel like life at the time,
choices which seemed to signal a terrible end.
Nevertheless, as I look back, more abundant life has come from each of these. Are you choosing life today and everyday, or
does each day bring with it a renewed compromise, or even an ongoing
accommodation with death? Still,
choosing life is not easy. It will feel
like shouldering a cross and bring with it uncertainties, the uncomfortably
unpleasant, even danger. But it will
also bring you into real life, awaken you from the torpor of semi-existence
which simply keeps you “going through the motions.” Yes, choosing life may often look a lot like
death, but so did that first Good Friday.
And we know the cross was not and is not the whole story, but only the
path to the revelation and glorification of the life of God himself. Choose life then – real life, and don’t look
back.
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