Jr 37
11 July 2010
St. Benedict
“Listen Carefully”
(or “21st Century Presbyterian Neomonastic”)
Let me explain my sermon’s subtitle. On my Facebook profile page, next to the item Religious Views, I have written “21st century Presbyterian neomonastic.” I was only half-joking when I wrote that. (And I promise, this isn’t just about me. How dreadfully boring that would be!)
The “21st century” part might seem fairly obvious. But that’s not simply due to the fact that we’re in the 21st century. It reflects the view of many that we are at one of those turning points in human civilization. We are on the verge of something; we just don’t know yet what it is. Of course, I think it’s also true that every generation somehow has the feeling that it’s their time that’s the most important. No one has faced greater challenges!
A thousand years ago, as western Europe was besieged by Vikings from the north, and Muslims from the south, many believed that the end was at hand. It was the coming of the millennium. (Remember ten years ago, at the end of the second millennium, when all the computer systems were supposed to crash, bringing on global panic?)
Still,
having said all that, I believe our global descent into spiritual darkness will
soon end—understanding that “soon” is a relative term. When the New Testament refers to the “coming”
of the Lord Jesus, the Greek word is parousia (parousia),
which literally means “presence.”
Welcoming, praying for, living for, the presence of the Lord is a
question of faith, and it’s a question of free will. It’s a choice, made in faith. It’s a question of choosing
enlightenment. It’s a question of
working for a new golden age.
The “Presbyterian” in the subtitle isn’t as self-evident as one may think. There are some Presbyterians who do nothing but grumble about how much they hate the Presbyterian Church. I’m not talking about “frozen chosen” remarks; these folks display a real animosity.
I won’t go as far as the Presbyterian polity professor Banu and I had at seminary, who (I think) jokingly celebrated being in “the one true church.” A measure of self-criticism is always necessary. You have to be able to laugh at yourself.
It’s the “neomonastic” in the phrase that I especially want to focus on. That’s “neo-” (as in “new”), plus “monastic” (as in “monks” or “monasteries”). Neomonastics don’t live in monasteries; they can be found anywhere. Still, were it not for a very cool group of ladies who do live in a monastery, that word wouldn’t mean very much to me. The Benedictine sisters of Erie introduced Banu and me to a monastic way of life.
It’s a way of life that I’m constantly striving for. I fail at it over and over, but the wonderful thing about it is that it’s the living heart—the very Spirit of Jesus Christ—that is always there, always encouraging us to continue. (By the way, the “OblSB” that you sometimes may see after our names means “oblate of St. Benedict.”)
Recall our call to
worship today. Those are the opening
lines of the Rule of Benedict.[1] “Listen carefully, my child, to my instructions, and attend to them with
the ear of your heart. This is advice
from one who loves you; welcome it, and faithfully put it into practice.” It continues, “The labor of obedience will
bring you back to God from whom you had drifted through the sloth of
disobedience.”
I would be negligent if I didn’t
provide a quick sketch of Benedict himself.
Born in 480 to a nobleman in Nursia, he went to Rome as a student. Dismayed by the debauchery of the city, he
soon left and joined a small community in the countryside, a community of men who
were committed to a spiritual path.
In time, they parted ways, and
Benedict established a monastery at Monte Cassino. In his Rule, he outlines his vision for
monasteries, and more importantly for us right now, his vision for a
Christ-centered life. That can apply to
anybody, whether or not they live in a monastery.
The Rule of Benedict has 73 chapters, plus the prologue, but we won’t worry about that right now. My sermon subtitle comes from the main title, which calls us to “listen carefully.” That’s how the Rule of Benedict begins: “Listen carefully.” My sermon text, Jeremiah 37, isn’t among our lectionary readings. I chose it for two reasons: because today is the day for St. Benedict and the idea of listening (or the lack thereof) appears in the chapter.
Actually, listening is a theme that appears again and again throughout the entire book of Jeremiah. Those who’ve participated in our Bible study, “Journeying with Jeremiah,” can attest to that. (That is, if they’ve been listening!)
The prophet Jeremiah tries, with little success, to convince the people—including the leadership—that in many different ways, they’re going down the wrong path. But they don’t listen to him. And because the book of Jeremiah gives a look at his inner struggle (which is unusual in the Bible), we see that sometimes the prophet feels that even God isn’t listening!
In our scripture
text, Walter Brueggemann applies this idea of listening to King Zedekiah. The king sends delegates to Jeremiah,
requesting prayer. Of course, Zedekiah
has disregarded what the prophet has been trying to tell him about a number of
things. One of the main things on that
list is fighting the Babylonian Empire is useless.
Brueggemann
says, “The central issue is that the king did not ‘listen.’”[2] He includes the Hebrew word for “listen” or
“hear” ([m'v;
,shema`). In Deuteronomy 6, that’s how the well-known
statement of faith begins: “Hear, O
Israel: The Lord is our God, the Lord
alone. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your
soul, and with all your might.” (And it
goes on.) That passage is called “the
Shema.”
Our friend Walter adds, “No
one listened—not the king, not his royal entourage, not the city nor its
citizens.…Zedekiah’s refusal to listen is a decision to ignore the [Biblical]
tradition, to reject the prophet, to scuttle [to blemish] a theological
identity, and to disregard a transcendent purpose in power politics.”[3]
That
stuff about ignoring a “theological identity” and “transcendent purpose” means
pretending that we alone are the makers of our destiny. More than that, it means closing our eyes to
the vision available by standing on the shoulders of those who have gone before
us.
Again,
Brueggemann, “A refusal to listen is to imagine that the king is autonomous and
therefore destined for self-sufficiency. In his refusal to listen, so the text
suggests, the king has sealed his own fate and that of his people. His future depends not upon his ingenuity nor
his power, but upon his readiness to accept the theological reality of his life
and his rule, that is, the reality of Yahweh’s rule.”[4]
Later
in the chapter, when the Chaldeans (which, in this case, simply means “the
Babylonians”) turn their attention to fighting the Egyptians, Jerusalem has a
temporary lull in the action. It enjoys
a respite, a welcome reprieve. Jeremiah decides
to check out the land he has purchased.
He has exercised the right of redemption, so that the property won’t
pass out of the hands of the family.
He’s
also putting his money where his mouth is; he’s saying that after the
Babylonians have done their worst, the economy will recover. To his people he says, “Houses and fields and
vineyards shall again be bought in this land” (32:15). He’s giving them a reason to listen to him.
Unfortunately,
when a sentinel named Irijah sees him trying to leave the city, he accuses the
prophet of treason, of defecting to the enemy.
Jeremiah tries to explain that a traitor is the last thing he is. He tries
to explain his reasons for this little trip.
So, does Irijah “listen” to him?
Here’s
a clue: Jeremiah is arrested, beaten,
and imprisoned under horrible conditions.
Refusing
to listen isn’t the sole domain of foolish kings and corrupt sentinels. Can we think of ways in which we imitate them
by ignoring “theological reality”? That
is, how do we delude ourselves in ignoring God’s very real presence? How do we ignore the parousia of Jesus Christ? Do we long for his arrival in our lives?
Here’s
a different approach, paraphrasing Benedict.
What does it mean to listen with the ear of the heart? Many would say that question requires as an
answer some spiritual platitude—but that’s useless. The ear of our heart is the most vital thing
about us. If we never listen to it, then
our entire life becomes tone deaf. It’s
like me when I’m singing. I like to
sing, but when I’ve heard recordings of me singing, my response is, “Yikes!”
When our lives are tone deaf, we don’t listen. Like King Zedekiah, we don’t listen to the word of God. Because we don’t listen to God, we don’t listen to each other. And with all of that “not listening,” one day we arrive at the point in which we cannot listen.
God is on the move: among us, in our communities, in the world. By not listening to the word of God, by not dreaming new beginnings, we make ourselves slaves to a past gone by; we hamstring our future with limited possibilities.
The universe is
expanding; God’s reign is expanding. God’s
economy is based on the expansion of love, grace, and mercy. Let us learn to listen carefully. We can enhance the presence of Christ within
and among us.