The Moment Matters

A sermon preached with the people of Church of Our Saviour Episcopal in Akron, Ohio.

This morning, a group of religious leaders – Pharisees – has joined the crowd gathered around Jesus.

The Pharisees were devout people trying to do the right thing and live the right way. And this morning, they ask what I think is a pretty good question.

They see Jesus’ followers eating without first washing their hands, which is both a Jewish custom and a generally sensible practice. And so they ask: why are these people so brazenly skipping this ritual?

And Jesus reaches into their shared tradition, and answers the question with a quote from the Prophet Isaiah:

‘This people honors me with their lips,

but their hearts are far from me;

in vain do they worship me,

teaching human precepts as doctrines.’

Jesus is clearly not interested in throwing away tradition.

But this morning he is telling us that in practicing our tradition, the moment matters.

This moment. Right now. It matters to God.

So let’s go back to that moment with those gathered with Jesus on this day.

Ever since Jesus landed in Genessaret he has been swarmed with people in need of healing. Moving from place to place – to “villages, cities and farms” – Jesus and his followers have witnessed people lay their sick friends and family members wherever they can, even in the middle of the marketplace. And Jesus has tended to them, as he always does – noticing and healing the forgotten and the desperate.

The people in the crowed today were drawn to Jesus and began following him at some point along the way. Some have likely traveled a great distance (on foot, of course). And they have seen hard things; real human suffering.

And right now, these followers of Jesus have found a place to stop. And rest. And eat. How long had it been? How close was a source of water to wash their hands? We don’t know.

But Jesus asks us to trust that in this moment, allowing these people God’s gift of nourishment under less-than-ideal circumstances was the thing to do.

Honoring God through all of our beautiful observance – our prayers and our liturgies – is good and right. And, Jesus reminds us that all that is meaningless if we don’t keep our hearts close to God.

And keeping our hearts close to God requires us to remain in the moment. To pay attention to circumstance and to context. To notice those who so often go unnoticed and to care for those who so often go without care.

And sometimes, that may mean breaking with a ritual or a tradition. Maybe once, maybe permanently. Because if in the moment a certain ritual stands in the way of nourishing the people, Jesus tells us we are allowed to make adjustments.

And that is liberating.

And. It can also be really hard stuff.

Because it would be a lot easier if our rules and practices and words applied in the same way 100% of the time with no exceptions forevermore. Living this way would relieve us of decision-making responsibilities.

And it would also be dangerous. And allow our practice of faith to potentially ignore, deny, exclude and harm.

If this pandemic has taught us anything, it’s that figuring out how to do the right thing in the moment, over and over and over, is absolutely exhausting.

But Jesus warns us that we cannot use ritual and tradition to absolve ourselves of making tough decisions, tempting as it may be.

And so, we adjust for the moment.

You, Our Saviour, adjust for the moment. I have noticed.

You celebrate Eucharist safely, foregoing the shared cup. You pass the peace without touching, you gather outside, and you gather online.

You continue to feed people as safely as possible under less-than-ideal circumstances. You feed anyone who shows up in need of nourishment – at God’s table and at any table; here during worship and Dinner on Us and at the Pantry and on the sidewalk outside the door.

You show up in your blue t-shirts to promote equality for all people at Pride.

You weigh risk against the needs of the most vulnerable, over and over and over again.

You are “doers of the word,” grounded in the moment.

It has been a joy to watch over these three short weeks.

For us as it was for the Pharisees, our rituals allow us to worship God in a way that connects us to each other, to those who came before us and to those who will come after us.

But we are not called to practice a faith encased in amber.

We are called to a life of paying attention to our complicated, messy, ever-changing world right here. To noticing and caring. To making adjustments.

A life of keeping our hearts in the moment and close to God.