Mark 12:28‑34
You may have heard about the problems many rural areas are facing as city slickers opt for the pleasures of country life – out past the last power pole and snow plow. Many of these suburban refugees expect to have the beauty of rural life along with all the comforts of city life. So various resident groups, especially in Western states, are posting “rural rules” such as these:
1) Animals and their manure can cause objectionable odors.
2) If your road is gravel it’s highly unlikely that the county will pave it in the foreseeable future. Further, gravel roads generate dust.
3) The topography of the land can tell you where the water will go in case of heavy precipitation. When property owners fill in ravines they have found that the water that once drained through that ravine now drains through their houses.
http://bcc2.elpasoco.com/bocc/code_of_the_west.asp
As kids today sometimes say – “well, duh!” Why would a county board need to write out something so obvious? How could any thinking adult not get it?
The point, of course, is that the newcomers came from places where they lived by different rules – maybe their own rules. Now they need to be cautioned that things will be different in the far-flung towns in the middle of nowhere.
The story is familiar in our mobile society across the nation as people negotiate how they’ll live together in harmony because none can make it alone. Think of recent comments from the mayor of Lewiston, Maine, about Somali immigrants. It takes everyone together, sharing the dreams, shouldering the burdens, making life livable. That’s certainly true in the church.
We all live by rules. They may be written by county commissioners, the IRS, the New York Stock Exchange, or the city planning board. They may come from the Bible, the Girl Scouts, the laws of nature, or the “still small voice” of God that tries to get our attention. Often these different rules conflict with each other. So we need to ask from time to time “which of the millions of rules matters the most?” Which is number one? This is just what the scribe asked when he came to Jesus.
The Gospels are filled with accounts of hostile questioners trying to trap the master Teacher. In the lead-up to today’s verses Jesus has been arguing with the Sadducees. This Scribe, to the contrary, approached Jesus with a tough question, but apparently with no ulterior motive: “Which commandment is the first of all?” Jesus answered, “The first is, ‘Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God, the Lord is one; you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.’ The second is this, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no other commandment greater than these.” The scribe readily agreed. And Jesus said to him: “You’re not far from the Kingdom of God.”
What do you suppose he meant — “not far from the Kingdom of God”? Well, consider that this man was a devout Jew who measured his life by the 613 laws of Judaism. Of these laws, 365 are prohibitions, “you shall not!” The remaining 258 are admonitions, “you shall.” Personally, I find it easier to remember what I’m not supposed to do, and harder to remember what I am supposed to do.
It’s no wonder the Pharisees worked full time just keeping track of the 613 laws and all the little footnotes. None of us can remember such a list. But Jesus made it simple with his answer: Love God. Love your neighbor as yourself. Everything else is secondary.
Love God. Love your neighbor as yourself. That’s what we’re about. Incorporating the spirit of those principles brings us into closer communion with God and with each other. As Christians, as the Christian Church, here in our own congregation, we discover that as we lose ourselves we find ourselves. As we pull away from self-centeredness, and put our energy into loving our neighbors and loving our God, we draw closer to the Kingdom of Heaven.
All the saints have discovered this truth. That’s why Christian tradition annually marks All Saints Day. You did celebrate this great Festival on Thursday, didn’t you? In truth, I can only I remember it because Halloween (Hallowed Evening) is always the night before. We don’t pay much attention to saints in our particular branch of the Christian Church but we should. “Well, we don’t really believe in saints,” you might say. “We don’t have much patience with perfect people or saintly deeds, or old men in robes who lived long ago.”
But there’s quite another way to understand the saints. Using Jesus’ words, the saints are those among us who are close to the realm of God. We know we live among the saints – everyday, pretty ordinary folks who are near to the kingdom of heaven because they love God and love their neighbors – faithfully, constantly, tirelessly. As the simple children’s hymn says it: “the saints of God are just folks like me . . . ” So Jesus told the Scribe that common people who remember the most important commandments and rules are the saints upon whom the church is built.
I had a profound sense of these “ordinary people who become extraordinary” standing by the Vietnam Memorial in Washington, DC, some years ago. You may remember there was controversy around it when the committee selected a design submitted by a talented young Asian-American art student, Maya Ying Lin (born in Ohio, by the way), and began construction in March, 1982. The effect is stunning: There are no statues, no heroic figures of warriors. Rather there’s a list of 58,261 names, not alphabetical but chronological – listed by the day each one fell. The top of the wall is about ground level. But as the list of names gets longer the wall cuts down into the earth – deeper and deeper until it reaches the lowest point – the depths of the war – then begins to rise again as the numbers of casualties fell.
All along the wall are keepsakes – flowers, notes, stuffed animals, medals, left by widows, orphans, families, and grateful citizens. The Park Service collects them and keeps them as a sacred trust. Most of the time there are people making rubbings of the engraved names or simply touching them.
Part of the genius of this memorial is this: when you look closely at the polished black marble wall you can see your own face looking back. Each of us, the living, sees our own face as we look at the names of the fallen but not forgotten – the saints of God – extraordinary people who are folks just like you and me.
So it is for us as the Church, as we gather today, trying to follow the guidance of Christ to live lives that honor God and honor others. Each Sunday we come together to follow Jesus’ prompting: to remember what matters most; to focus on our place in the community and the love of the saints that has brought us safe thus far.
As we come now to our treasured sacrament of bread and cup; as we consider our gifts in thanksgiving for God’s gifts, we first remember the saints who now rest from their labors. From their loving hearts we have received this Church on Meeting House Hill. They are the ones (some of whose names are remembered) who kept the faith when times were tough; who welcomed home the daughters and sons from far away places; who paid the bills in the depths of the Depression; who baptized, married and buried their loved ones.
Believe it or not, we are also the ordinary saints upon whom the next generation will stand, living by the grace and love of God as the world changes, and the church changes, but God’s vision does not.
As we have pledged our love and generous gifts, let us also pledge to pass on this good church – its ministry and mission – vital and joy-filled. For the kingdom of God is right here, right now.