Lucia Lloyd’s sermon: God's Grace given Unearned and Unbought
Epiphany 6, Year A
Matthew 5:21-37
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Some of the souls in Hell take a bus trip to Heaven and are invited to stay. These imaginative travels are described in the book The Great Divorce by C.S. Lewis. The problem is that the souls cling so tightly to their various forms of bitterness, vindictiveness, or arrogance, that they stomp away from paradise when it’s offered to them. In one scene, one of the souls from Hell, who is like a ghost in the very solid environment of heaven, meets a man who used to work for him when they were alive on earth.
“What I’d like to understand,” said the Ghost, “is what you’re here for, as pleased as Punch, you, a bloody murderer, while I’ve been walking the streets down there and living in a place like a pigsty all these years….Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?”
The other soul replies, “No. Not as you mean. I do not look at myself. I have given up myself. I had to, you know, after the murder. That was what it did for me. And that was how everything began.”
The ghost continues to rant that it ought to be the other way around.
“Look at me now,” said the ghost, slapping its chest…I gone straight all my life. I don’t say I was a religious man and I don’t say I had no faults, far from it. But I done my best all my life, see? I done my best by everyone, that’s the sort of chap I was. I never asked for anything that wasn’t mine by rights. If I wanted a drink I paid for it and if I took my wages I done my job, see? …I got to have my rights same as you, see?”
“Oh no. It’s not so bad as that. I haven’t got my rights or I should not be here. You will not get yours either. You’ll get something far better. Never fear.”…
“What do you keep on arguing for? I’m only telling you the sort of chap I am. I only want my rights. I’m not asking for anybody’s bleeding charity.”
“Then do. At once. Ask for the Bleeding Charity. Everything is here for the asking and nothing can be bought.”
The ghost continues to go on ranting about his rights. At one point the heavenly soul pipes up. “And it isn’t exactly true, you know.” Mirth danced in his eyes as he said it. “You weren’t a decent man and you didn’t do your best. We none of us were and we none of us did. Lord bless you, it doesn’t matter. There is no need to go into it all now.”
“You!” gasped the Ghost. You have the face to tell me I wasn’t a decent chap?”
“Of course. Must I go into all that? I will tell you one thing to begin with. Murdering old Jack wasn’t the worst thing I did. That was the work of a moment and I was half mad when I did it. But I murdered you in my heart, deliberately, for years. I used to lie awake at nights thinking what I’d do to you if ever I got the chance. That is why I’ve been sent to you now: to ask your forgiveness and to be your servant as long as you need one, and longer if it pleases you. I was the worst. But all the men who worked under you felt the same. You made it hard for us, you know. And you made it hard for your wife too and for your children.”
The ghost becomes enraged, and insults the heavenly soul. The heavenly soul keeps joyfully encouraging him to go with him to the heavenly mountains.
“You don’t suppose I’d go with you?”
“Don’t refuse. You will never get there alone. And I am the one who was sent to you.”
“So that’s the trick, is it?” shouted the Ghost, outwardly bitter, and yet I thought there was a kind of triumph in its voice. It had been entreated: it could make a refusal. And this seemed to it to be a kind of advantage. “I thought there’d be some damned nonsense. Tell them I’m not coming, see? I’d rather be damned than go along with you. I came here to get my rights, see? Not to go sniveling along on charity tied onto your apron strings. If they’re too fine to have me without you, I’ll go home.” It was almost happy now that it could, in a sense, threaten…. “That’s what I’ll do. I’ll go home. Damn and blast the whole pack of you.”
One of the things I love about this scene is the way it vaporizes all the judgments we make about what we deserve, and our rights, and other people’s wrongs. Today’s gospel passage in some ways sounds like one of the severest things Jesus says, and in other ways turns out to be an opportunity for grace. Jesus explores the difference between what the religious law says and what the good news of the gospel he is preaching says. The law regulates outward observable behaviors; the gospel deals with what’s going on in our heart and soul as well. The ghost in Lewis’ story has never committed an actual murder, but his soul is so consumed by arrogance and harshness that he is farther from God than someone who has. Even the person who had committed a murder can see, from a heaven’s eye view, that that murder was not his worst sin, because he had been murdering his boss in his heart for years.
Jesus tells us we’ve heard “you shall not murder,” but that everyone who has ever insulted someone or been angry with someone has murdered them in his heart. Well, all of us have insulted someone, and even if we can keep our mouths shut, we have definitely insulted people in our thoughts, haven’t we? We’re all in the same boat as the people whose sins we think are worse than ours. Their sins aren’t worse; their sins are simply more visible. But God isn’t fooled by what’s visible to others. God sees into the heart, and what God sees in the murderer’s heart is essentially the same as what God sees in all the hearts of all the rest of us.
Same thing with adultery. If there is a woman that a married man wants to have sex with, but he wants to wiggle out of the penalties for adultery, he might divorce his wife in order to have sex with the new wife. But Jesus is not fooled by this trick, and sees it as adultery regardless of whether the timing of the sex was before or after the divorce. And if we feel judgmental toward either divorced people or adulterers, Jesus has something to tell us. We’ve heard “you shall not commit adultery,” but everyone who’s lusted has committed adultery in his heart. Well, everybody has felt lust, so again we’re all in the same boat as the people whose sins we think are worse than ours.
We sometimes look at someone else’s sin and think they really ought to cut it out. But when we look at how difficult it is to make ourselves not sin anymore, we realize that eliminating our own sin is almost like cutting off your own hand or plucking out your own eye. It’s part of you.
The reason all this is an opportunity for grace is that it gives us a chance to see that the sins that upset us so much in other people are sins that we commit in our own hearts too. This gives us a chance to be understanding toward their sins, and to forgive them. When we are able to see the sins in our own hearts as being essentially the same as the sins that upset us in others, it enables us to give up the sense of superiority, the sense of “I’m better than you” that is our most deeply rooted sin. And it enables us to ask God for forgiveness, to ask Christ for the Bleeding Charity.
Jesus isn’t all that interested in our outward reputation, because Jesus sees right through our outward reputation, and Jesus sees whether our heart is pure. Our hearts are not pure. So Jesus offers his own heart to us, his blood, his body. Jesus offers us a chance to receive his grace, which is a lot better than puffing ourselves up with our own perceived righteousness. Rather than living in the hell of our own arrogance, anger, or self-righteousness, we are able to rejoice in the heaven of the grace that God gives us unearned, unbought, where everything is a gift.
“What I’d like to understand,” said the Ghost, “is what you’re here for, as pleased as Punch, you, a bloody murderer, while I’ve been walking the streets down there and living in a place like a pigsty all these years….Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?”
The other soul replies, “No. Not as you mean. I do not look at myself. I have given up myself. I had to, you know, after the murder. That was what it did for me. And that was how everything began.”
The ghost continues to rant that it ought to be the other way around.
“Look at me now,” said the ghost, slapping its chest…I gone straight all my life. I don’t say I was a religious man and I don’t say I had no faults, far from it. But I done my best all my life, see? I done my best by everyone, that’s the sort of chap I was. I never asked for anything that wasn’t mine by rights. If I wanted a drink I paid for it and if I took my wages I done my job, see? …I got to have my rights same as you, see?”
“Oh no. It’s not so bad as that. I haven’t got my rights or I should not be here. You will not get yours either. You’ll get something far better. Never fear.”…
“What do you keep on arguing for? I’m only telling you the sort of chap I am. I only want my rights. I’m not asking for anybody’s bleeding charity.”
“Then do. At once. Ask for the Bleeding Charity. Everything is here for the asking and nothing can be bought.”
The ghost continues to go on ranting about his rights. At one point the heavenly soul pipes up. “And it isn’t exactly true, you know.” Mirth danced in his eyes as he said it. “You weren’t a decent man and you didn’t do your best. We none of us were and we none of us did. Lord bless you, it doesn’t matter. There is no need to go into it all now.”
“You!” gasped the Ghost. You have the face to tell me I wasn’t a decent chap?”
“Of course. Must I go into all that? I will tell you one thing to begin with. Murdering old Jack wasn’t the worst thing I did. That was the work of a moment and I was half mad when I did it. But I murdered you in my heart, deliberately, for years. I used to lie awake at nights thinking what I’d do to you if ever I got the chance. That is why I’ve been sent to you now: to ask your forgiveness and to be your servant as long as you need one, and longer if it pleases you. I was the worst. But all the men who worked under you felt the same. You made it hard for us, you know. And you made it hard for your wife too and for your children.”
The ghost becomes enraged, and insults the heavenly soul. The heavenly soul keeps joyfully encouraging him to go with him to the heavenly mountains.
“You don’t suppose I’d go with you?”
“Don’t refuse. You will never get there alone. And I am the one who was sent to you.”
“So that’s the trick, is it?” shouted the Ghost, outwardly bitter, and yet I thought there was a kind of triumph in its voice. It had been entreated: it could make a refusal. And this seemed to it to be a kind of advantage. “I thought there’d be some damned nonsense. Tell them I’m not coming, see? I’d rather be damned than go along with you. I came here to get my rights, see? Not to go sniveling along on charity tied onto your apron strings. If they’re too fine to have me without you, I’ll go home.” It was almost happy now that it could, in a sense, threaten…. “That’s what I’ll do. I’ll go home. Damn and blast the whole pack of you.”
One of the things I love about this scene is the way it vaporizes all the judgments we make about what we deserve, and our rights, and other people’s wrongs. Today’s gospel passage in some ways sounds like one of the severest things Jesus says, and in other ways turns out to be an opportunity for grace. Jesus explores the difference between what the religious law says and what the good news of the gospel he is preaching says. The law regulates outward observable behaviors; the gospel deals with what’s going on in our heart and soul as well. The ghost in Lewis’ story has never committed an actual murder, but his soul is so consumed by arrogance and harshness that he is farther from God than someone who has. Even the person who had committed a murder can see, from a heaven’s eye view, that that murder was not his worst sin, because he had been murdering his boss in his heart for years.
Jesus tells us we’ve heard “you shall not murder,” but that everyone who has ever insulted someone or been angry with someone has murdered them in his heart. Well, all of us have insulted someone, and even if we can keep our mouths shut, we have definitely insulted people in our thoughts, haven’t we? We’re all in the same boat as the people whose sins we think are worse than ours. Their sins aren’t worse; their sins are simply more visible. But God isn’t fooled by what’s visible to others. God sees into the heart, and what God sees in the murderer’s heart is essentially the same as what God sees in all the hearts of all the rest of us.
Same thing with adultery. If there is a woman that a married man wants to have sex with, but he wants to wiggle out of the penalties for adultery, he might divorce his wife in order to have sex with the new wife. But Jesus is not fooled by this trick, and sees it as adultery regardless of whether the timing of the sex was before or after the divorce. And if we feel judgmental toward either divorced people or adulterers, Jesus has something to tell us. We’ve heard “you shall not commit adultery,” but everyone who’s lusted has committed adultery in his heart. Well, everybody has felt lust, so again we’re all in the same boat as the people whose sins we think are worse than ours.
We sometimes look at someone else’s sin and think they really ought to cut it out. But when we look at how difficult it is to make ourselves not sin anymore, we realize that eliminating our own sin is almost like cutting off your own hand or plucking out your own eye. It’s part of you.
The reason all this is an opportunity for grace is that it gives us a chance to see that the sins that upset us so much in other people are sins that we commit in our own hearts too. This gives us a chance to be understanding toward their sins, and to forgive them. When we are able to see the sins in our own hearts as being essentially the same as the sins that upset us in others, it enables us to give up the sense of superiority, the sense of “I’m better than you” that is our most deeply rooted sin. And it enables us to ask God for forgiveness, to ask Christ for the Bleeding Charity.
Jesus isn’t all that interested in our outward reputation, because Jesus sees right through our outward reputation, and Jesus sees whether our heart is pure. Our hearts are not pure. So Jesus offers his own heart to us, his blood, his body. Jesus offers us a chance to receive his grace, which is a lot better than puffing ourselves up with our own perceived righteousness. Rather than living in the hell of our own arrogance, anger, or self-righteousness, we are able to rejoice in the heaven of the grace that God gives us unearned, unbought, where everything is a gift.