NOT HAVING TO GET IT RIGHT

My favorite Anglican theologian was the late Robert Capon. He, more than any other human being, is the reason for my "migration" -- the word we use in ecumenical circles -- to the Episcopal Church. (But that's another story.) If the truth be told, Capon was a closet Lutheran, and maybe so am I. It's called guilt by association. Lutherans believe that we are saved by grace through faith. That was the basis of all Capon's writings.

I would go one step further and say that, yes, believers are saved by grace. So are non-believers. That is what Christmas-Easter is all about, what Jesus's birth-life-death-resurrection are all about. Jesus was born among us to live, die and be raised up so that we, too, could live, die and be raised up. If he had not been, we would not be, could not be. It’s as simple and as profound as that.

That is precisely Capon's theology: there is nothing we can do to get to heaven when we die: nothing. Try as we might, be good as we can, we will never make it on our own. Conversely, be as bad as we can, we will never lose it on our own. Life-in-death is God's free gift to us. It comes through the grace of God and through and by nothing else. It is as simple and as profound as that.

Now there are those – many of those – who do not want to hear or even believe it, who would call Capon (and me) a heretic. So be it. But they are the ones who want to believe that we can earn our way into heaven. We cannot. It is simple and profound as that.

But somehow we still think we can, believe we have to. We spend so much of our time trying to get it right. We think that if we say the right prayers, believe the right dogma, live the right way, get it all right, we will get to heaven. We won't because we never ever get it all right. Most of the time, I suspect, when we try to define our faith, we come out as heretics.  We have to rely on the grace of God. It is simple and as profound as that.

That does not mean that we should not try, that we should not make the best effort at praying well, understanding our faith better, doing what we know we should. We should. What it does mean is that, in the end, it is only through God's grace that in death we will find life, and only through God's grace. It is as simple and as profound as that.

That's the beauty of it all. That is the reason for the joy that should be in our hearts each and every day. Jesus's birth among us was the first step in this process that removed the need for always having to get it right. The Old Law, the Law of the Old Testament, was full of ways to get it right. Jesus came to tell us that while the Old Law was good, that we should do all we could to get it right, it would never get us where we wanted to go. Only his death and resurrection would. It is as simple and as profound as that.

We say we believe that truth even though we somehow really don't believe it. We still think our salvation is somehow dependent on us, on our getting it right. It isn't. It never was and never will be. Christmas-Easter is about not having to always get it right.  It’s as simple and as profound as that.

WORDS OF LOVE

The tongue: the deadliest weapon in the world. The old schoolyard adage "sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me" is a lie. We can recover from physical wounds. The pain will eventually go away or at least abate enough to allow us to live well enough. But the damage our words inflict on another seems never to go away. Oh, we bury it deep inside our hearts and minds, but it resurfaces every so often and rekindles the pain that we thought had ended.

Added to the pain that words inflict is the knowledge that we sometimes utter those words without thinking. They roll off our lips before we can stop them. We can pull back our fist, we can drop the club, we can put away our weapons before we do any damage. There seems to be something in us with the ability to hold us back from doing damage with sticks and stones. But there seems to be less of that something when it comes to the words that come from our mouths.

I know I don't always curb my tongue even when I know better. And when I do not, I hurt others more than I will ever know just as others have hurt me by their words more than they will ever know. What I need, maybe what we all need, is the wisdom to know what to say, the courage to say it, and the strength to say nothing when nothing is what should be said.

There is a solution, of course, albeit not an easy one. It takes work, especially if we are prone to speaking before we think. It takes practice and it takes patience. It demands a change of heart and even a change of life. And that does not come easily and it comes, more often than not, painfully. It often comes only after we have hurt too many people with our words, people we truly love. The pain that we suffer is often more than the pain we caused by our words as it truly should be,

Granted, we will never totally succeed in being totally loving in word and in action given our human sinfulness. It will always be a struggle, more for some than others. But no one is immune from uttering words that in hindsight one wished one had not. That is not an excuse for opening our mouths when they should have remained shut. It is simply the truth about our humanity.

This is no perfect time or perfect season when words of love should easily flow from our lips and acts of love flow from our hearts. But, perhaps, summer being here, when life slows down just a little, perhaps we could be a little more intentional about what we do and what we say, think a little before we open our mouths. Maybe, as the sun warms our bodies, we can let it also warm our hearts and minds.

Summer is as good a time as any and probably better than most to make and take the time to learn how to be more intentional in what we say, to think before we open our mouths, to make sure that all our words are words of love. We teach others by our words just as much as we teach by example. It is an awesome responsibility, one that we dare not ever take lightly.

NINE LITTLE WORDS

A while back the Gallup people did a study in which they asked one simple question: "What word or phrase would you most like to hear sincerely uttered to you?" The first two responses were not surprising. In order they were: 1) "I love you"; 2) "I forgive you." We all want to know we are loved and we all want to be forgiven by those whom we may have hurt or truly have hurt. The third response was: "Supper is ready."

It probably should not have been so surprising because it is all so logical. We do not sit down to share a meal with someone we don't love and cannot forgive. But if we can share a meal, look across the table at the other, then there is at least a modicum of love and forgiveness present. Sadly, of course, sometimes we simply tolerate the other sitting across the table from us, and vice versa. But it is at least a beginning to true love and true forgiveness. We need to start somewhere!

Even more, if you think about it, those three phrases, those nine little words, are really a short summary of what our life of faith is about. As Christians the first order of business, if you will, is to love the other person. Once we love another, then we can forgive another. But we cannot forgive someone if we don't love that person. Loving comes first. And because we are all and always sinners, because, for whatever reason we seem to be able to hurt the ones we love, and, in fact, do hurt them, we will always be in need of forgiveness and always need to forgive.

Then we can sit at table with the ones we love and have forgiven and who love and have forgiven us. Again, we cannot and will not share a meal with someone whom we have refused to forgive. Others will never sit down to share a meal with us if they cannot find it in their hearts to forgive us. There is no love without forgiveness and no forgiveness without love.

That is why the Eucharist is such a wonderful symbol of who we are as Christians. We come together each week to share a meal with people we love, whom we have sinned against and who have sinned against us; whom we have forgiven and who have forgiven us. We share that meal as a sign of our love. We know that it is through the grace and  strength we receive from the Eucharist we share that we can continue to say over and over again, "I love you. I forgive you."

Supper is always ready and we all look forward to sharing that meal, that Eucharist. But the question remains: Are there those with whom we refuse to share a meal, to share the Eucharist? If there are, then we need to recognize the fact that there is some unfinished business in our faith lives, some words we still have to find in our hearts to accept and on our lips to say: "I love you and I forgive you."

Once we have found the grace and strength to do that, to say that, then we can ask together, "Is supper ready?" Then we can sit down together in love and forgiveness, but not until then. Nine little words but deep and meaningful words. Is there anyone in our lives who needs to hear them?