Lessons From History

As you may have read in a recent bulletin or newsletter, I’ve been preparing a theological reflection on the history of Christ Church for the Sunday Forum in Lent. Anyone who has dropped by my office in the past couple of months might have noticed a old, faded photograph of The Rev. James Young, our second rector, who served from 1844 to 1846; or maybe the box of carefully preserved letters to Mrs. Cantrell from her husband, who was stationed outside of Clarksville with the Confederate army in 1861. Mrs. Cantrell diligently re-documented most of Christ Church’s records, and mostly from memory, after our first fire in 1873. And my house looks pretty similar to my office right now. Every flat surface in my home has a book or manuscript or photocopy, either marked up with my notes or waiting it’s turn for my pencil.

I recognize that researching a parish’s 180-year history might seem like a strange project for a priest. Surely there are living, breathing people at Christ Church today more deserving of my time and energy. And I will say that while I have certainly tried not to neglect my flock, this process has been a lesson in time management. But I believe that there are critical moments in the life of a community in which a look back at the people and patterns and systems of the past is a valuable spiritual practice. In fact, I think Jesus himself encouraged theological reflection on history.

Today, we meet Jesus at the very beginning of his Sermon on the Mount in Matthew. Mere verses ago he opened with the Beatitudes - blessed are the meek and the merciful, etc. This what the Kingdom of Heaven looks like, he says. And then he moves right into the salt of the earth, the light of the world, and the city on the hill. This is your mission, he says. Then he warns us, “do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfill.” Do not neglect your story, where you’ve come from and what you’ve learned, he says.

This passage is just as curious and challenging to us as it was to those who heard it on the mountainside. We Episcopalians are an Easter people. We celebrate the freedom that Christ brings into the world, and many of us, if we’re honest, like to completely ignore the complicated stories and instructions of the Old Testament, preferring to focus only on the love and acceptance in the Gospels.

But Jesus’ warning continues, “until heaven and earth pass away, not one letter, not one stroke of a letter, will pass from the law until all is accomplished. Therefore, whoever breaks one of the least of these commandments, and teaches others to do the same, will be called least in the kingdom of heaven; but whoever does them and teaches them will be called great in the kingdom of heaven.”

Let me just say that to an unmarried, pulled pork-loving, tattoo-having, female, religious leader, this just does not sound like good news. But here we are, and Jesus is calling us not to ignore the challenging and controversial story of God’s people, but to look back with an open heart and a critical eye, in order to better understand who we are today and how we’re called to live.

So let’s look back. The Law of Moses in the first few books of the Bible is a seemingly exhaustive litany of rules and regulations. It covers what to wear, what to eat, where to live, how to set up local government and businesses, how to properly worship God, and how to treat slaves. Following the Law was a full time job and the Israelites struggled with it daily. In fact, when the Israelites found themselves in exile several generations after Moses gave the Law, they believed God was punishing them for not fulfilling it well enough: improper sacrifices, intermarriage with other tribes, the accidental backyard BBQ every now and then, you get the idea.

Fast forward a few years to our Old Testament passage today from Isaiah, from the final section of the book which contains prophecy to the people who have been freed from exile and have relocated to the land God gave them. In typical people-of-God fashion, the Israelites believe that the end of exile is their reward for finally fulfilling the Law of Moses the way God wanted them to. So you can imagine their surprise when they return to the promised land, only to discover that life is still hard, things still go wrong in community, and the nature of prayer is as complicated as ever.

Their immediate reaction is to blame God: “Why do we fast, but you do not see? Why humble ourselves, but you do not notice?” Isn’t this just quintessential human behavior? When things don’t go the way we want them to, there must be something fundamentally off in the universe! But God’s response is not what the Israelites expected. “Look, you serve your own interest on your fast day, and oppress all your workers. Look, you fast only to quarrel and to fight, and to strike with a wicked fist. Such fasting as you do today will not make your voice heard on high.”

It’s not about the fast, God says. It’s about how you treat one another. This is what Moses and Isaiah and Jesus are all preaching. Following the literal letter of the Law is only as valuable as how it builds up the people of God. The instructions that Moses gave the people were not put in place because tattoos and mixed linens and pigs were offensive to God, but because these were the things getting in the way of the people living in fruitful community with one another. If Moses were handing down instructions today, I can think of a few things that might be outlawed based on how we treat one another with and through them: car horns, Black Friday sales, Twitter.

Again and again throughout history, God’s people have tried and failed and tried again to live into the Kingdom of God, even before they knew what to call it. We have misunderstood and then understood and then misunderstood again the creative, poetic, and timeless ways God has taught and communicated with and loved us. But the message has always been the same. Love one another and live together in ways that help everyone participate in the Kingdom. Jesus didn’t come to abolish that message, but to fulfill it.

Looking back at our story helps us to see the patterns in how God interacts with us. Even the outdated social practices, the extravagant worship traditions, and the stories we struggle to relate to, they all reveal God’s faithfulness, as well as the consequences we might experience when we don’t return that faithfulness in kind. How much we would miss if we never paused to consider where we’ve been and how we got here. We might not have realized that Christ’s warning about the Law is a lesson in love and freedom after all. Amen.