Turn Up The Radio

A sermon preached with the people of St. John’s Episcopal Church in Oakland, California.

You might not be shocked to learn that this morning’s first reading is the only selection from the Song of Solomon, aka the Song of Songs, we ever hear in the church’s assigned cycle of Sunday morning readings. It only comes up twice in three years, and in both circumstances, it is optional. And judging from my experience, quite a few churches are not hearing it this morning.

Which is a real shame, because I’m sorry, how beautiful is this reading??

“Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away."

It’s a love song, like the ones you turn up the radio for. Some scholars speculate it was written for performance. The date night movie of its day. And yes, probably a PG-13 date night movie. It does get a little racy. Or a concert or opera or musical.

Jewish and Christian scholars over the years have interpreted the song, and the love this couple shares, as an allegory. The couple represents God’s love for God’s people. But these days, most believe we ought to take the Song of Songs at face value. A celebration of two human beings’ love for one another.

But that seems … kinda weird. Kinda uncomfortable. What’s this doing in the Bible?? What’s this doing in church? And why does it feel … kind of embarrassing?  

Okay, hold that thought. I have some ideas.

But first let’s go to our Gospel reading this morning, Jesus in Gennesaret. 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. And some of these followers this morning are the forgotten and the desperate.

Some have likely traveled a great distance (on foot, of course). And right now, these followers of Jesus have found a place to stop. And rest. And eat. How long had it been? We don’t know. But we can be pretty sure they were hungry.

And so, when they gain access to food, they eat. Like you do when you haven’t eaten for a very long time. Without ritual or table manners. Without washing hands.

And a group of religious leaders – Pharisees – has joined the crowd.

They see Jesus’ followers eating without washing their hands, which was both a Jewish custom and, then as now, a 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,

You abandon the commandment of God and hold to human tradition.”

Jesus is outlining the difference between our human-made cultural and religious traditions and customs, and what we know about God. What our hearts know about God.

Many – but certainly not all -- of our “human precepts,” including our religious ones, are good and sensible. But when our imposition of the expectations of any human precept causes suffering, in this case, to perhaps prolong desperate hunger, then our tradition become empty doctrine. We honor God by keeping our hearts close to God, above any human-made expectations. When our hearts stray from care or ourselves and all people, is when we start to get into trouble. This is, I think, what our collect means to as “true religion.”

Jesus goes on to say “For it is from within, from the human heart, that evil intentions come: fornication, theft, murder, adultery, avarice, wickedness, deceit, licentiousness, envy, slander, pride, folly. All these evil things come from within, and they defile a person.”

Um, what was that first one? Fornication. Much has been made of Jesus’ inclusion of that word in this list. The Greek is “porneia” (yes it’s the root of the word you’re thinking of). Many other Bible translations choose to translate this word as “sexual immorality” instead. But this word, in Greek, and English and so many other languages, has been interpreted in many, many ways across the centuries. And you know what’s driven those translations? Human precepts. Whatever the current authorities in the current cultural context thinks of as “wrong” is how the term has so often been translated and understood, used and indeed weaponized. From prostitution, to sex before marriage, to same sex relationships, our human interpretation of Jesus’s single word, “fornication” here have caused shame, suffering and death.

I think the definition, based on its context in scripture, is probably closest to any sexual activity that hurts or harms. Non-consensual. Exploitative. When someone gets hurt. Or worse.

So how ironic that in the same story in which Jesus has just explained that when our human precepts draw our hearts from God, they are not doctrine, but hollow human tradition … there appears an example of his own words that have been used just this way. Harmful human precept passed off as doctrine.   

Interpretations of these and other words throughout scripture have bolstered so-called “purity culture,” which emerged largely from a certain wing of the American church in the last few decades. Thi tradition defines sexual abstinence and adherence to rigid gender roles as measures of personal worth and spiritual value. So many people, especially women and LGBTQ+ people, have been deeply traumatized by being made to feel shame for their very being. And I know that includes some in this community. And I am so sorry. Some have, quite understandably, have separated themselves entirely from anything that resembles church forever because of this harm.   

And I would say that human precepts that drive people from the church; from Christian community; are not from the heart. Are not close to God.

What’s more, this more contemporary purity culture combined with this country’s long heritage of a rather puritanical worldview, has made us a little embarrassed when it comes to talking about healthy, safe romantic relationships at all.

Which leads me back to that question we’re holding onto. Why is the Song of Songs included in our canon of holy scripture?

Obviously, we will never have a definitive answer to that question. Not on the earthly plane, anyway.

But I wonder if, for us, American Christians in the 21st century, it’s there to remind us to interrogate the traditions and doctrine we have absorbed from the wider culture, from what our heart knows about God.

To remind us of the joy of this kind of love – just one kind of love – but as much a gift from God as any, and just as quote “pure” and holy as any, is not something to be embarrassed about, but something to give thanks for.

Not something to hide in shadows so that it seems as illicit as theft or slander, but something to celebrate. 

Not something to be ashamed about because, we know, that Jesus is not in the shame business. And if someone tells you he is, you might wonder if they have gotten human precepts confused with doctrines.

 “Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away. 

Turn up the radio, I love that song.