Pentecost 15, proper 21, Year A, Sun Sept 25, 2011

Exodus 17:1-7; Psalm 78:1-4, 12-16; Philippians 2:1-13; Matthew 21:23-32

Some of us may be old enough to remember a TV show of the 1950s and 60s called “This is Your Life”. An unsuspecting person was lured to the TV studio, and was surprised to learn that he or she would be the central figure of that show. Then people from their past would be brought on stage, one at a time.

I’m just back from visiting my son on Block Island, RI, and time in New York City. Every time I go up north, I try to cram in as many visits as I can with old friends and visits to favorite places. On this trip, my son and I ran into the parents of old friends of his. In NY, I visited with friends from my library days, and some from church connections, and some who remind me of my days of living overseas, and still others whom I have known since kindergarten. (Yes, really.) I can visit favorite places: my most favorite tree on the NJ Transit line to Morristown NJ; my favorite Indian restaurants (there are many); my favorite paintings at the museum.

Now that I’m living so far away, these visits are like a condensed version of “This is Your Life”. Each time I go back, it’s like a kaleidoscope of memories and experiences. If I haven’t seen someone for a while, they may have changed, dyed their hair, retired or changed jobs. I am often filled with thankfulness that these people are still in my life even though we don’t see each other in person very often. In some cases, when we get together again, it’s like no time at all has intervened.

On the other hand, sometimes I am suddenly struck by sadness and regret. There are some relationships which have not stayed close, and I realize that I could have done more to keep the relationship going. A librarian moved to a nursing home, and I haven’t kept in touch. A classmate since kindergarten has dropped out of my life. Another relationship grew distant, perhaps because of some misunderstanding, and I haven’t followed up to try to clear the air.

Jesus talks about two sons, one who says “Sure, Dad, I’ll go work in the fields,” but then he doesn’t do it; the other says “No, I don’t think so, not today”, but then he does go to work. Jesus is making the point that the chief priests and elders talk the talk, but they don’t walk the walk. The tax collectors and prostitutes, however, did believe in John the Baptist, they repented. The parable gives us a simple message: don’t just say you’ll do it, but put your body where your mouth is. As so often with the parables, there is a complex underlying reality to be explored as well. We are not one or the other, but we are both sons: we sometimes follow through with what we say we will do (or believe we ought to do), and sometimes not.

One who almost always talked the talk and walked the walk was Saint Francis. His life and ministry was based on complete consistency of his faith and his way of life. He read in the scriptures that Christ was completely poor, and so he believed that he and his brothers should also live in complete poverty. They were not to keep or even touch money. If any money came to them, they were to give it all away before sundown. They were not to own anything. Once a brother asked for a book of his own, and Francis said no, then he would want another and another.

Once the friars made a reference to the room where Francis was sleeping as “Francis’ cell”. After that he never stayed in that room again. His love of all creatures and determined poverty led him to the decision to eat no meat, yet once in his later years he did eat some chicken. Then he felt remorse, and pledged never to do so again. Towards the end of his life, the friars began to build a large church, and Francis despaired that they would begin to become attached to buildings, ease of life, and owning property.

Francis was as consistent as he could be in following Christ, and he made his decisions about how to live based on the life of Christ as he read in the scriptures. He walked the walk as much as he could. He is supposed to have said, “Preach always, use words when necessary”. His life was a sermon on following Christ as completely as possible, at least according to the way he felt called to do so. It was a hard life, and I wonder if sometimes even Francis had a hard time being “Francis”.

The ancient Hebrew people had the opportunity to flee from Egypt and be freed from their bondage, but once out of Egypt, freedom wasn’t so great after all. It was a hard life wandering in the desert. After the first flush of success, they ran into difficulties: hunger, thirst, long days traveling, and they began to remember fondly the “fleshpots” of Egypt. They were ready to give up their freedom rather than to persist in the hardship that would eventually, a generation later, bring them to the land of promise.

In the early Church, there was an ideal of what community in Christ should be like. St. Paul describes the ideal, in which the people are “all of one mind”, always loving one another selflessly, sharing their possessions, taking care of the poor and needy, and without one higher in status than another. Of course, it wasn’t really quite like that. We hear some of the reality of the early churches in his letters to the Corinthians, where the people were arguing and fussing with one another.

The Israelites said they wanted freedom, and the early Christians said they wanted to follow Christ. The actual follow-through was not so easy. We also pledge in our baptismal vows to turn away from evil and sin, to proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ, and to respect the dignity of every human being. We promise all this and much more. Above all, we promise to follow Jesus Christ.

The essence of who Jesus was is described in an ancient hymn which St. Paul quoted in the Philippians passage which we heard today. The Philippians hymn begins with these lines: “Jesus, who though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself….” This is the essence of who Jesus was. He was God, yet emptied himself of the divine privilege to become also fully human, and to experience the life of humankind, even giving himself up to death.

This is the essence of Christ, the one who emptied himself, whom we are called to follow, in our words and in all that we do. We can never quite do it all, completely and perfectly, and there will always be ways in which we fall short. And, there is a delicate balance in learning how to love ourselves (as well as our neighbors), and yet also empty ourselves of self-absorption.

We are not all called to be St. Francis, but we are called follow Christ, in the specific way that God calls each one of us, and there may be plenty of challenges along the way. With God’s help, we can do this and not only talk the talk, but also walk the walk. With God’s help, we can preach always, in the actions of our lives, and use words as necessary. With God’s help, we may become empty of self and full with the love and blessings of God.