Christ Church Riverdale

21 Pentecost/All Souls                                                              November 2, 2003

Deuteronomy 6:1-9; Psalm 119:1-8; Hebrews 7:23-28; Mark 12:28-34

On Wednesday, a little before 11 a.m., a man rang the church bell.  He wasn’t looking for money, he was looking for God.  He knew there was a service at 11, and asked if he might attend.  Afterward, he told me, and the others at the service, that he wanted to learn how to pray.  It surprised me that he knew so little about traditions of religious observance.  I told him when he prayed to tell God what was on his mind, and to thank God for his blessings, and to share with God his troubles.  I gave him a copy of the Lord’s prayer, and a Bible to take with him.  I suggested that he read the creation stories – the first two chapters of Genesis – and that he come back so we could talk again.  I hope he is here with us today.

This encounter reminded me of how blest we are if we have grown up saying our prayers and learning Bible stories.  Even those of us who think we don’t know much, or don’t read the Bible enough, don’t pray enough – even we have a solid foundation of faith and hope.

The word tradition comes from the Latin, trans and stare, “to pass on.” How important it is to pass the faith on to those who follow.   It’s clearly the message of today’s first reading, which includes the SHEMA:
”Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God is one Lord; and you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might.  And these words I command you this day shall be upon your heart; and you shall teach them diligently to your children, and talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise.  And you shall bind them as a sign upon your hand, and they shall be as frontlets between your eyes.  And you shall write them on the doorposts of your house and upon your gates.”

Some Jews take the Law of Moses literally.  They are told to bind the scripture upon their hands and wear as a frontlet between the eyes, and so they do.  The little leather boxes with binding cords are called phylacteries, and in the boxes are fragments of scripture.  Some people put the words on the doorposts using mezuzahs.  Each Friday evening, a candle is lighted, as the Sabbath is observed around the table in the home.

Jesus cautioned against too much overt display.  He criticized the pious Pharisees, who, in his words, “wore their phylacteries broad,” showing off.  But he never criticized passing on the tradition.  Instead, he demanded reform.  What Jesus taught, and what the Jewish prophets taught, was a religion of the heart, where God’s will is done.

We may want our religion discrete, but our faith must be shared or it will cease to exist.  We share it with our children and, if we’re fortunate, we share it with one another.  At times of crisis, in particular, it becomes clear why we are believers.  But it should be clear at all times.

I brought my step-mother Mary Stewart to church last Sunday.  At lunch later, she told me of growing up next to my grandparents.  They lived in a little town.  My grandfather owned a farm three miles from town and had tenant farmers living on the land.  My step-grandmother, a little bow-legged Christian lady I called Miss Katie, played Chopin and gave tea parties for the ladies.  According to Mary Stewart, Miss Katie would never allow anyone to say an unkind word about anyone.  She would just look at you funny when you started to criticize, and you would stop.   Well, the point of this is that Miss Katie would take Mary Stewart out to the farm on Sunday afternoons to tell Bible stories to the children of the tenants, passing on the faith.  My grandfather gave the land for their church.  Looking back, it was a terrible economic system, unjust and indefensible.  I never could explain how bad I thought it was to my elders.  In their own way, they did what they could.  I think of this today, when we honor the saints, and remember our departed family and friends.

Jesus calls us to a higher standard than just telling the story, of course.  A loving God demands justice.  We believe in a God of Love.  The summary of the Law is Jesus’ focus.  The Shema, which includes “love the Lord your God with all your heart and soul and might” is joined with “love your neighbor as yourself” from Leviticus.  Jesus is not offering a new teaching.  But the summary of the Law became a focal point for his followers.  And the implication for us is that by loving our neighbors we are loving God.

What a wonderful teaching to pass on to our children.  One follower, St. John, put it this way, “how can you say you love the God you have not seen, if you do not love the neighbor whom you have seen.”

Bill Greenlaw, Rector of Holy Apostles’ Church in Manhattan, was briefly a professor of Christian Ethics at General Seminary in Manhattan.  He was invited a number of years ago to a young adult group at St. Michael’s Church.  I happened to be at that gathering.  When he was asked to sum up Christian Ethics, he didn’t miss a beat.  He said, “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and soul and mind and strength, and love your neighbor as yourself.”

The history of the Christian community has been a history of trying to live up to that challenge, failing, and trying again.

Today, we remember those who have gone before us.  I remember my parents, Miss Katie for whom I wept alligator tears when, as a child, I heard of her death.  Our parents and our churches passed on to us the faith we enjoy today.  And we believe that we will join them, that we do join them around the altar in the eucharist.  We have a spectacular vision, a vision described this way in the opening hymn:

“O blest communion, fellowship divine; we feebly struggle, they in glory shine.  Yet all are one in Thee, for all are Thine.  Alleluia.”

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