Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle A

One of the strongest themes of the Old Testament is that of the uniqueness of God's people. Over and over again, that sense of being somehow different, called apart, set apart from the rest of the world, is expressed in the Scriptures. It becomes almost a litany... we are a people unlike any other people, a nation unlike any other nation. We follow a law unlike any other law, we are disciples of a Wisdom unlike any other wisdom. In the Psalms, in the Wisdom literature, and in the law especially, this refrain is repeated almost to the point of boasting.

Almost. The one thing that kept it all from becoming boastful or arrogant is the equally insistent Scriptural theme that this uniqueness, this special relationship with God enjoyed by His people is entirely God's own doing. The people do not build their special relationship with God, they could not possibly do that. Rather, all that they are able to do, all that they are called to do is recognize that relationship, respond to it, and enjoy it.

There are any number of ways in which the Old Testament authors spoke about this uniqueness, demonstrated it, developed it. One of the first, and the clearest, is in the Creation accounts. There are two such accounts, the first two chapters of the book of Genesis. And both of them, with different styles and emphases make the same point. Absolutely everything that is, is from God. From the first glimmer of light to the final fullness of creation, humanity itself, nothing happened by accident. Every stage, every phase, every quality of creation is intimately interwoven with every other. And that is so by God's design. It is all a part of His plan, and there is nothing that is un-Godly.

And in the account of the creation of human beings, that relationship is even more clearly established. In the second account, God is pictured as literally sculpting humanity out of the earth with His own hands, and breathing into it His own breath. And how different that is from the way in which any other people or time pictured their relationship with God. In so many other creation accounts, common to other cultures, even some considerably more sophisticated and civilized than that of the Hebrews, the universe, and humankind, happen almost by accident, the offspring of some sort of cosmic conflict between a god of good, and a god of evil. But in the Hebrew, the scriptural account, there isn't even a hint of that kind of duality. Everything that is, is directly, purposefully, God's.

Another way in which the uniqueness of the bond between God and His people is expressed is in the whole process of Revelation. In the Scripture, God speaks to His people on a personal basis, a basis of friendship. He doesn't rule from off in a cloud somewhere, or leave His people to wander aimlessly in a hostile world. Rather He speaks to His people, and does so clearly. He tells them everything they need to know, in order to know Him.

But in all of Scripture, there is probably nothing that so clearly underlines the uniqueness of the Hebrew vision than does this first reading this weekend. This is just one of many passages in which the same thing is said. It is right in the first line, "Speak to the people," God says to Moses, "Tell them, Be holy, for I, the Lord am Holy."

This was a totally new, totally unthinkable expression of the relationship between God and humankind. God calls His people to holiness. God calls His people to be like Him. Nothing like that had ever been said before.

Certainly there been hundreds, even thousands of attempts to express a divine call. In some, God might call humanity to be obedient, in others to be respectful, in others to be fearful. But it is only here, in this radically new vision that the true nature of God's call is recognized. Our call is to holiness, and nothing less than that. A holiness that is demonstrated, revealed for us by God Himself. God says, "Be holy, as I am. Not as you might think holiness should be, but rather as I am."

Holiness. That then is the heart of an authentic spirituality, an authentic response to the presence of God in our lives, as He chooses to be. And nothing else is good enough. Fear of God, respect for God, obedience to God, all of these are fine things, necessary things. But if that is all that God expected of us, then that is all He would have asked of us.

It is kind of interesting to realize that the word "holy", the word "heal", and the word "whole", are really the same word. They come from the same root, they share a similar meaning. Holiness is wholeness, a wholeness that we bring about in ourselves by healing. We become holy by healing wounds, bringing together the disparate parts, bridging gaps within ourselves, between ourselves and others, and between ourselves and the rest of creation. Tearing down barriers and limits to growth that we set up within us and around us, barriers and limits that hem us in, keep us from being whole.

I talked a bit ago about the notions of creation and revelation. Both of these are portraits of the holiness of God, and so are yardsticks for the measurement of our own. As we said, in creation, God embraces, relates to Himself everything that is. And He does so purposefully... about everything in creation, God says, "It is good, it is part of Me."

In the second reading, Paul relates that directly to our holiness. He says to believers, "Everything is yours, everything is in you. Other people, the world, life, death, the present, the future." If we are to be holy as God is holy, then our embrace of creation must be as whole as is His.

But is it? How many times is our attitude toward life, toward people marked not by wholeness, but by limits. How may times do we say, "I will go this far, but no further... do this much, but no more?"

In last Sunday's Gospel, you may remember, Christ radicalized our sense of sin by telling us that the clear limits, the precise responsibilities laid out in the commandments simply are not enough. To not kill people, to not commit adultery, to not lie, that is not morality. Morality, we said was much more a matter of a love of life, a love of intimacy, a love of truth. To be moral, we cannot stop with the direction of the law. That is just the starting point.

And in today's Gospel, precisely the same thing is being said about the practice of virtue as was said about the avoidance of sin. To simply do one's duty, to do what one must, what can't be avoided, is not enough. The one true measure of what we must do for one another's welfare is simply enough all that we are capable of doing. That too is part of what it means to be whole. To bring into play in our attitudes, our relationships, our lives, everything that we have, every strength, every ability, every sensitivity.

Well, that is a radical vision of virtue given in this Gospel, and one which I suspect many of us don't practice very readily. How often do we find ourselves, for example, resenting the fact that we don't get enough recognition, gratitude for all the wonderful things that we do perhaps even from our own friends, our own family, our own community. How often do we find ourselves saying things like, "I'm not going to do anything more for so and so until I get a little bit in return"? Well, that might make good business sense, but it is not holiness. That attitude is what the Gospel calls an eye for an eye, and Christ clearly tells us, it is not enough.

How often do we find ourselves sort of grinding our teeth over the fact that every job, every responsibility that comes along seems to fall on me, and that my spouse, my kids, my brothers and sisters, my fellow students, my fellow parishioners, my fellow townspeople don't take up their share of the burden, their share of the responsibility. How often do we find ourselves taking refuge in phrases such as, "I've done my share in this relationship, this family, this school, this parish, this town... it's not my responsibility any more."

Well, in God's view of holiness, "my share", is everything that there is to do, measured only by what I am capable of doing, whether or not anyone else does anything at all. Perhaps that is a point worth emphasizing. I can never use any other person as the standard, the measuring stick for my holiness, what I must do. The only measuring stick that applies is, simply enough, what there is to be done. Because that is the standard that God will use in judging my holiness.

Even more painful examples... How many times do we refuse to let healing happen in our lives? How many times do we just keep poking away at old wounds, old hurts, even imaginary ones, rather than stitching them up, like a doctor stitches together the edges of a wound, almost forcibly pulling them back together, and letting them grow back into one whole piece? Carrying grudges, resentments from even years past, refusing to have anything to do with this or that person because of some difference in the past... refusing to forgive, to start over. Such things are un-holy, because they are un-whole, and they are the stuff of judgement.

How many times do we let the natural shocks of life, misfortune, ill health, disappointment, separation, loss, close us up, wrap us into a little ball, rather than embracing them as something, as St. Paul tells us, we have been given. Not burdened with, but given.

So. For the past month or so we have been following a series of Gospel readings that flow from the first and the clearest thing that Christ said in His public preaching. Re-form. Re-make your lives. And this is part, at least, of how it must be done. A wholeness of attitude, a wholeness of love. By building that, we become holy, as God is holy.

Readings: Leviticus 19:1-2,17-18; 1 Corinthians 3:16-23; Matthew 5:38-48