A Sermon for the 5th Sunday in Lent
Year B – 25 March 2012
John Edward Miller, Rector
The days are surely coming, says the LORD, when I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and the house of Judah. It will not be like the covenant that I made with their ancestors when I took them by the hand to bring them out of the land of Egypt– a covenant that they broke, though I was their husband, says the LORD. But this is the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel after those days, says the LORD: I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts; and I will be their God, and they shall be my people. No longer shall they teach one another, or say to each other, “Know the LORD,” for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, says the LORD; for I will forgive their iniquity, and remember their sin no more.
– Jeremiah 31:31-34
Create in me a clean heart, O God, *
and renew a right spirit within me. – Psalm 51:12
The Collect
Almighty God, you alone can bring into order the unruly wills and affections of sinners: Grant your people grace to love what you command and desire what you promise; that, among the swift and varied changes of the world, our hearts may surely there be fixed where true joys are to be found; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.
Last Tuesday I made an early morning trip to MCV. I’ve found that people up and moving at that time of day acknowledge one another with a nod, as if to say, “Hey there, fellow morning person.” Sometimes there’s a “Good morning” exchanged as well. I think it’s a sense of connection and purpose that’s shared. Well, my mission that day was to be at the hospital check-in to welcome our new friend, Merlik Cobbe, as he arrived for heart surgery. And, sure enough, I’d hardly finished my inquiry about his arrival time when I turned to see him and his mother Rosemary approach the reception desk. A volunteer from the World Pediatric Project accompanied them. His role was to pick them up at the Hospitality House and deliver them to their appointment with the surgery team.
Merlik was dressed in a jacket and stocking cap. I guessed that he found even this warm weather to be considerably cooler than the climate in St. Lucia. Or maybe he just liked the look, who knows? The point is he was comfortably wrapped for his adventure.
I called out, “Merlik, good morning!” He turned and recognized me, even though I was out of context and had only met him in recent days. That shy smile of his really lights up a room. Merlik looked back to his mother, who was busily answering registration questions for admission. Rosemary also flashed a lovely smile when it clicked that I was there to represent St. Mary’s care, and to be their priest for the morning.
Once they were fitted with i.d. bracelets and had signed the papers, we walked as a group into the preparatory rooms for cardiac surgery. With every step I felt the gravity and importance of the pending surgery. Merlik and Rosemary were courageous and hopeful. They both listened intently to the surgeon, the anesthesiologist, and the nurses who explained the procedure. I kept my eyes on Merlik, who smiled and hid his face in his hands every time he caught me looking. There was an aura of pure care in that small cubicle; everyone who interacted with Merlik was captivated by his innocence and his yearning for a healthier life. Gratitude radiated from Rosemary, and it warmed us all.
The procedure, according to the surgeon, was straightforward and routine. He said that he was confident that the outcome would be good. There was a hole between two of the chambers of Merlik’s heart. That hole was seriously impairing the child’s breathing and energy for life. The plan was to enter Merlik’s heart through a catheter inserted into a lower extremity vein. Once inside the heart, a tiny camera lens on the catheter would scope out the situation and enable the surgeon to decide what size of (for the lack of a better word) plug would be appropriate. After closing the hole, the whole line would be extracted and Merlik would be off to recovery. Healing his heart would be that “simple,” if all went according to plan.
After everyone left the room except for Merlik, Rosemary and me, it got quiet. Fortunately, we figured out how to activate the TV suspended from the cubicle wall. Merlik and I found a Disney cartoon channel, and he was content to watch the animated figures on the screen. Rosemary and I waited with him.
Before long, a pleasant nurse appeared and announced that it was time. I asked whether I might say a prayer with Merlik, and she graciously allowed me to proceed. I placed my hands on his precious head, and prayed, ending with a pronouncement of God’s blessing. Then I signed his little forehead with a cross, and wished him Godspeed. Merlik simply smiled and covered his face with his hands. The nurse pushed his rolling bed into the hall that led to cardiac catheterization. After her son disappeared through a set of automatic doors, and asked Rosemary if I could walk her to the waiting room. She was very composed and remarkably at peace. I knew that she would momentarily be joined by Sara Reed and Molly Snow from St. Mary’s, so I took my leave. I took Rosemary by her hands and thanked her for allowing me to be with her and her little boy. She squeezed my hands in return and offered her thanks.
Turning away and descending in the hospital elevator, I thought about what I had experienced. I saw Merlik’s beautiful smile, his shining eyes, and his shy, quiet demeanor. He became a living icon of what is so right and good about the world. Everyone around him, including me, was touched by Merlik’s heart.
The surgical team was successful in mending his heart. Merlik’s life is safe now, thank God. But there was something else that I realized: my heart was being mended as well – just by being with him in a moment of connectedness. God the healer of hearts was fixing the hole that drains our ability to love one another as he loves us.
The prophet Jeremiah spoke God’s words to a people in desperate trouble. Their country, their livelihood, and their life were falling apart. A powerful enemy was encamped outside the walls of their holy city, and soon their siege engines and battering rams would raze it to the ground. For the people of Jerusalem it was the worst of times. And yet, for the people of God – the ones who would come through the fire and carry on, it was the best of times. Hope was in the air, despite the carnage and the flames.
Jeremiah heard that hope and put it into words. His prophecy is our text for this 5th Sunday in Lent. It is the bold proclamation of a new covenant, the relationship that we now have with God through Christ Jesus. This is what the prophet said to the people of Jerusalem, a people walking in darkness and fear:
The days are surely coming, says the LORD, when I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and the house of Judah. It will not be like the covenant that I made with their ancestors when I took them by the hand to bring them out of the land of Egypt– a covenant that they broke, though I was their husband, says the LORD. But this is the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel after those days, says the LORD: I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts; and I will be their God, and they shall be my people. No longer shall they teach one another, or say to each other, “Know the LORD,” for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, says the LORD; for I will forgive their iniquity, and remember their sin no more.
Here is the promise of healing for something that was seriously broken, namely the intimate bond between God and Israel. Like Hosea before him, Jeremiah compared that bond to marriage – the closest relationship between two human beings. The prophet made it clear that Israel was unfaithful, and implied that the LORD was hurt by that disloyalty. Nevertheless, God’s love rules; it is capable of rising above pain and absorbing loss for the sake of wholesome life. “For I will forgive their iniquity,” says the LORD, “and remember their sin no more.”
Those words assure healing; but even more than that, they promise a cure. “And how is that?” one might ask. Well, God’s way of curing his people is by giving us a change of heart. God’s law has always been for our good; it has helped to guide and curb our behavior, and it has kept the bar high when it comes to standards. But the problem is, we find to our frustration that cannot fulfill the law’s demands, much less its spirit. No amount of teaching, or cajoling, or reward-and-punishment therapy seems to work. We keep missing the mark. So, it has to be God who does the fulfilling. God’s cure for our ills is to inscribe the law on our heart.
But, why would God choose the human heart as the living tablet of the law?
We know that the heart is the organ that serves as a pump for the cardiovascular system. Without a heart (or its mechanical substitute) we cannot live. Thus it is essential to our existence; its importance has taken on metaphysical and spiritual meaning. In our common usage, the heart is the seat of the emotions. We associate it with sensitivity and feelings, saying things like, “She has a big heart,” or “He wears his heart on his sleeve.” In the world of biblical Hebrew, the heart (lev, בל ) is that and much more. It is the confluence of a number of integral functions. One commentator puts it this way: for the Hebrew the heart is “the total personality of a person – most particularly for the inner self, what it means to be human, [i.e., one’s] personality and inclination.” So, references to the heart in Hebrew Scripture assume that it is the junction of rational intellect, memory, emotions, desire, will, determination and courage.
The Shema Yisrael, the central affirmation of the Jewish people, proclaims: “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.” With all your heart, soul, and might. In a way that’s saying, give it all you’ve got. That’s the importance of the heart; it’s our everything, our essence. And that’s why the LORD would choose to write his Torah, his instructions for a whole life, on our heart.
Recently a dear friend lent me a documentary film, entitled “I Am.”
It was written and directed by Tom Shadyac, a UVA graduate who became famous for his work in comedy films. But this film represents a major change of heart for this highly successful director. In it Shadyac turns his attention to a serious subject: the need to recognize our intimate connection to one another, as well as to all living things. His findings are complex, but very encouraging. Shadyac interviewed a host of scientists, physicians, philosophers, poets, and spiritual leaders with the intention of answering two questions: what’s wrong with our world, and what can we do about it? In the process he learned what’s right with the creation, and it filled him with hope.
One of the right things he found is about the heart. It turns out that the ancient religious traditions, such as the Judeo-Christian, had the truth about the heart all along. Current scientific studies offer evidence to support belief. The beating heart sets up a field of electromagnetic energy that can be detected not only by other hearts, but also by other living organisms. We affect one another without being conscious of it. Cardiac signals are dispatched to the brain, making the heart the “boss of us.” The state of our heart becomes our state of mind, and then influences our actions.
So, according to the documentary, “positive messages, such as love, care, gratitude, and compassion, are best for us. We function better in a state of empathy and love than we do in separation. All we have to do is to hear a tale of goodness or suffering and we get this feeling of connection.” In other words, “we’re geared at a primordial level to feel what others feel. We are born to be our brother’s keeper. It’s the way we are wired.”
Jeremiah delivered God’s word to a people who had separated from him and one another. The prophecy was meant to reverse all of this flying apart; it said, ‘Come together, right now. That is how you were designed to be. You will live to the extent that you belong – belong to the community, and belong to me. Open your heart, come home, let me renew our marriage bond.’
For us Jesus is the embodiment of that new, and everlasting covenant. His sacred heart bears the inscription of God; it beats in perfect accord with God’s law. Because he is one of us, his example is an access door. His humanity is connected to our humanity; his heart affects ours. When he says, “I am the way, the truth, and the life,” Jesus invites us to live into the promised new covenant. He beckons us to listen to the rhythm of his heart, and to allow that vital pattern to become our own. Being close to him helps us to do that, literally.
Jesus said, “Love one another as I have loved you,” meaning: be compassionate: suffer with one another. In another place he says, “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, love your enemy and pray for those who persecute you; so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven; for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust.”
God’s perfection is his alluring love. It is indiscriminate; it shows no favorites. God’s love encompasses all, and calls everyone to receive it as a healing gift. Thus our love is made perfect as we embrace the neighbor, as we seek and serve Christ in all persons; it becomes Christ-like as we respect the dignity of every human being. In so doing we are connected heart-to-heart. One heart mends another. We are made whole.
Thank you, Merlik, for the sharing with us the rhythm of your mended heart, and for accepting our love as well. You have filled many voids with your trusting heart, and we have been brought closer to Christ as we have grown closer to one another. It is in his name we pray, Amen.