A17 Sunday 3 September 2017

Homily from Holy Cross
Sunday 3 September 2017
The Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost
Romans 12:20-21; Proverbs 25:21‭-‬22

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One day this past week, I was listening to a random passage of Scripture on my phone while documenting visits with patients.  To my surprise, I heard familiar words; words that I knew to be words of the Sunday Epistle.  Only the section of the Scriptures to which I was listening was Proverbs.

When Paul writes of "heaping burning coals," he is quoting Scripture.  I have read this passage many times, and have heard others speak of these words.  I missed those quotation marks that clearly point beyond Paul.

But there is something of even greater importance than quotation marks that gets missed.  Given that this word about coals is connected to our generous treatment of our enemies in the name of God, it's rather ironic that what we are left with more times than not in the wake of the heaping of burning coals is an image that is not terribly generous and doesn't do much for leaving vengeance to God.  Let's just be honest; most of us have sat back, watching as we and others like us heap burning coals on others whom we don't think deserve any good thing, thinking: "Just wait; they'll get what they deserve one of these days."

This is not what Paul had in mind when he quoted Proverbs.  Paul is recalling the Scriptures as one trained from his youth as an expert on the Law, Prophets and Wisdom  of Israel.  And so the question for me became: "What does Scripture say of burning coals?"  The answer to that question might surprise us.  We think of burning coals as the source of fire and heat, destructive forces that break down rather than build up.  But the Scriptures speak of burning coals as the source of light that illuminates the darkness and reveals the truth.  It is this light that shines before us to point the way in which we should walk in order that we might not stumble or fall.  And as we walk the path that is life in this world, this light does something greater than simply illumine what lies before our feet.  The presence of this light transforms us to be light in the midst of darkness, to be burning coals that shine the true light of the world.  That true light, the brightest and best of the burning coals, is none other than God.  And when we perceive the presence of God in the burning coals that illumine a pathway for our feet in which our eyes can see all that surrounds us, we are transformed to act not as we would in human darkness but rather in light of God.

I think here of one of my favorite chapters of all the Scriptures.  The sixth chapter of Isaiah portrays a scene in which Isaiah is called by God to be a prophet, to speak to God's people and call them to return to God, to come out of the darkness of unfaithfulness and embrace God who is life, light and salvation.  Standing in the presence of the Light of the World, before God, Isaiah is overwhelmed by a sense of unworthiness to stand before God and to speak for God.  Isaiah asks: "Who am I?"  And in the Light of God, in which all is fully revealed, he answers his own question: "I am a man of unclean lips."  In response, God directs one of the cheribum to take a burning coal, often referred to here as a "live coal" (same thing), from the heavenly altar and to press it against Isaiah's lips.  One might say that in doing so God heaps burning coals not merely on the lips but the head of the one being called to serve God.  And when that coal has touched Isaiah, God declares that by this act Isaiah's lips are no longer unclean and that Isaiah is no longer unworthy to speak in the name of God, to share the Light of God with the world.  The burning coal has done him no harm.  On the contrary, this light from the True Light of God has purified him, healed him, and equipped Isaiah to be the prophet God is calling this man to be for the sake of the world.

In a very real sense, dear friends, this moment of calling and purification takes place for us at every Mass.  Let's be honest: if we have truly prepared ourselves to draw near to the Eucharist, we inevitably will find ourselves in the place in which we find Isaiah when called to serve the God before whom he stands.  How often have we heard or perhaps even repeated that we are the most prepared to receive the Sacred Body and Precious Blood of Jesus Christ, God from God, Light from Light, true and very God of true and very God, when we are deeply aware of the fact that our unclean lips and hearts make us indescribably unworthy to receive this bread and cup that are something far greater than mere bread and wine.  And yet time and time again, Jesus gives of himself to us as burning coals taken from the altar and heaped over our heads, as a live coal pressed to our lips.  And when we depart from the altar, that light which is Christ illumines our path and purifies not only our lips but our whole selves, body and soul alike.

And how we are in need of that transformation!  Go back to Proverbs and Paul with me.  Our God tells us that if we find our enemy hungry and thirsty, we are to feed them and give them drink.  And we could go even further than this.  Remember the Parable of the Last Judgment.  If we truly hear what Jesus has to say to us here, we know that we are also called to clothe our naked enemy, to visit our lonely and forgotten enemies to whom no one else will attend, to comfort them in death, to heal them in sickness, to befriend them and love them.  It is easy to do all of these things for family and friends who love us.  Jesus shines his light on those who hate us and are our enemies, and bids us to be bold enough to share the burning coals that transform and illumine the world one person at a time with the love of God.  How difficult it is to do these acts, even when we know that God has commanded us to do so, especially when we are aware that such mercies have not been requested and may not even be welcomed.  Our enemies may hate us even more because of these acts.  Darkness likes darkness and resists light that reveals the darkness for what it truly is and the scars it both leaves and hides.

And yet there is no other way of transformation than this.  Darkness breeds darkness.  Violence and evil always begets more violence and more evil.  If we heap burning coals on others, hoping for their harm, even rightfully deserved harm, we are no better than our enemies, for we have simply made ourselves the enemy of our enemies.  But if we are so bold as to share what we have first believed, and to trust that the Light of the World can illumine any darkness and evil and transform it in a moment of resurrection where life arises from death, our enemies can be changed into brothers and sisters, fellow heirs of grace in the Kingdom of God.

Let me show you what this looks like when put into practice.  At Episcopal Youth Event in July, a 17 year old young female Iraqi shared her story.  When she was a little girl, her family was targeted for destruction.  A roadside bomb was placed outside her home one evening.  In the wake of its explosion, her parents took their family and fled for safety.  They spent two years in Jordan before being able to immigrate to the United States and settle in Vermont.  They arrived there just in time for this young girl to begin seventh grade.  On the first day of school the teacher invited the students to introduce themselves to the person beside them and tell a bit about themselves.  When she told Max that she had been born in Iraq, this young American boy made the assumption out loud that she was "one of those terrorists."  She spoke of how angry she was in that moment and of how tempted she was to lash out in anger.  She resisted that urge and reacted coolly and calmly to this new neighbor of hers.  In the weeks and years that followed, something changed.  Max became her best friend.

Here again the Proverb quoted by St. Paul:

"If your enemy is hungry, give him bread to eat, and if he is thirsty, give him water to drink, for you will heap burning coals on his head, and the Lord will reward you."