The Hidden Commandment

The text is Exodus 20:1-17.

Click here to listen at fpcboonville.org

I’d like to take a trip with you this morning.  We’re going to do a little time traveling.  We’re going to hop into Marty McFly’s DeLorean and travel back to the year 1981.  A lot of things happened that year.  A famous movie star by the name of Ronald Reagan took up residence in the White House.  Here in Boonville, a handsome young music teacher named Rod Ventura began directing the choir and playing the organ at our church.  There was a popular rock n’ roll song on the radio by a guy named Rick Springfield and it was called Jessie’s Girl.  It went a little something like this:

Jessie is a friend,
Yeah, I know he’s been
A good friend of mine
But lately something’s changed
That ain’t hard to define
Jessie’s got himself a girl
And I want to make her mine
And she’s watching him with those eyes…

I’ll leave the rest for you to listen to on your own.  This is one of those songs that has definitely outlived its fifteen minutes of fame.  Thirty years later, you can still hear it on the radio.  Why is that?  The music is catchy but the lyrics aren’t particularly poetic.  Rick Springfield was hardly William Shakespeare.  What was it about this particular song that earned it a place in the history of rock n’ roll?  I think it’s the fact that just about everybody can relate to that feeling.  Most people, at some point in life, have probably wailed with Rick Springfield (in their own way), “Why can’t I find a woman like that?”  Jessie’s Girl is the national anthem of envy.

Rick Springfield wasn’t even the first to turn his poetic sights on this almost-universal human experience.  Long before him, way back in the 1800s, the great American poet Walt Whitman put it this way:

WHEN I peruse the conquer’d fame of heroes, and the victories of mighty generals, I
do not
envy
the generals,
Nor the President in his Presidency, nor the rich in his great house;
But when I hear of the brotherhood of lovers, how it was with them,
How through life, through dangers, odium, unchanging, long and long,
Through youth, and through middle and old age, how unfaltering, how affectionate and
faithful
they
were,
Then I am pensive—I hastily walk away, fill’d with the bitterest envy.

Envy, of course, is slightly different from jealousy (although the two are often confused with one another).

In marital terms:

  1. Jealousy is what a person might feel when his/her spouse is flirting with someone else.
  2. Envy is the impulse that makes a person want someone else’s spouse for his/her own.

Envy is a powerful impulse.  According to some scholars, it’s the driving force behind human civilization.  Human beings compete with one another in pursuit of some lofty image of the “ideal” life.  What is our basis for this ideal image?  The very people with whom we are competing!  We fight with each other in our attempt to imitate each other.  That’s what “keeping up with the Joneses” is all about.  As it turns out, the Joneses have been trying to keep up with you all along.  Thus, an entire civilization is built on mutual envy.  Kind of absurd when you think about it, isn’t it?

Earlier in this service, we read from the famous Ten Commandments.  It’s a long list of “Thou shalt nots” made popular by Charlton Heston (there was a movie, you may have seen it).  At the tail end of this list is one that is quite different from the rest.  It reads, “You shall not covet your neighbor’s house; you shall not covet your neighbor’s wife, or male or female slave, or ox, or donkey, or anything that belongs to your neighbor.”  Covet is another word for envy.  What makes this final commandment different from the rest (i.e. “You shall not murder… You shall not commit adultery… You shall not steal… etc.”) is that this one is about a desire rather than a behavior.  It has to do with what’s going on inside you.

This tenth commandment is going to be our starting point for talking about the other nine.  Rather than go through them one by one, we’re going to start at the end and end at the beginning.  We’ll end with the first commandment, which goes like this: “I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery; you shall have no other gods before me.”  We’ll sum up all of the other commandments between those two: “You shall not covet” and “You shall have no other gods before me.”

Think about what’s really going on inside you when you become obsessed with something or someone that someone else has and you don’t.  Even if you don’t act on it, the impulse is still there.  Depending on what it is and how much you want it, you might sacrifice your own integrity to get what they have.  Even if you won’t, there’s someone else out there who will.  We hear about it all the time on the news.  Some person or nation has something that some other person or nation doesn’t have but wants.  So they fight over it.

Eventually, mutual envy becomes an obsession.  People sacrifice all kinds of things to its pursuit.  They lie, cheat, steal, and kill for it.  In time, it becomes a kind of god in itself, leading us all the way back to the first commandment: “you shall have no other gods before me.”  Thus, we can look at the entire list of Ten Commandments through the lens of the last and the first commandments.  Envy leads to idolatry.  The last commandment leads to the first by way of the other eight.

Someone once asked Jesus, “Teacher, which commandment in the law is the greatest?”  Jesus replied, “’You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.’ This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like it: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.”

A lot of people have come to understand the Ten Commandments as being summed up by these two ideas from Jesus.  They say that commandments #1-4 can be summed up under “love the Lord your God” and #5-10 can be summed up under “love your neighbor.”

I think that Jesus’ summary of the Torah fits well with what we just said about envy leading to idolatry.  He taught people to love their neighbors, but it’s hard to love people for who they are when you’re green with envy over what they have and you don’t.

The secret, I think, to getting past this cycle of destruction lies in what I like to call the hidden commandment.  Jesus summarizes the Ten Commandments with a single Great Commandment.  He replaces the long list of “thou shalt nots” with a single “thou shalt.”  Jesus says, “Thou shalt love.”  Love God and love your neighbor.  It’s that simple.  Isn’t it funny how people like to complicate things?

But, before we do that, we should look a little closer at Jesus’ commandment.  The hidden commandment is tucked away where it can be easily missed.  Jesus said, “’You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.’  [And] ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’”  Can you hear it?  Love God and love your neighbor as yourself.  The Great Commandment is love and the hidden commandment within it is to love yourself.

This whole culture of envy: where do you think it comes from?  I see people who get up every morning and, at some level, hate what they see in the mirror.  They wish they could be somebody else.  So they try.  The problem is that everybody else hates themselves too.  They get up, look in the mirror, and wish they could be somebody else too.  But they can’t, so they settle for coveting what other people have.

In our addiction to envy, most of us tend to forget that we are unique and beloved children, made in the image of God.  No matter how we try to destroy it, run from it, or hide it in the closet, none of us can change who we are.  Your true self, “the you that is really you in your heart of hearts,” is beautiful and beloved.  Most of us try to deliberately forget or ignore that truth.  Some of us even try to use God and religion as a way to cover up what we don’t like about ourselves.  We think that faith can make us more like somebody else.  Personally, I think real faith will make us more like ourselves.

Hundreds of years ago a great Jewish rabbi named Susya of Hanipol talked about this tendency.  He said (I paraphrase), “When I die and get to heaven, God will not ask me, ‘Why were you not more like Moses?’  God will ask me, ‘Why were you not more like Susya?’”

During this season of Lent, when Christians are preparing to celebrate the holiday of Easter, a lot of people use the time to try and change what they don’t like about themselves.  They try to break a bad habit, give up a vice, or even drop a few extra pounds.  They try to make themselves conform to some imaginary ideal of what they should be.  A lot of folks even look to the Ten Commandments as a guide to the kinds of things they should and shouldn’t be doing.  But before you start checking on your long list of “thou shalt nots” and before you get all negative on yourself because you don’t look like or act like someone else, I want to invite you to listen more carefully to Jesus’ Great Commandment.  Jesus said, “Thou shalt love.”  Love God.  Love your neighbor.  Love yourself.

You’ve got to start by learning to love yourself.  Practice the wisdom of self-acceptance.  If you’re going to try to do anything, try to cultivate in yourself an awareness of the truth that God loves you unconditionally, as you are, warts and all.  Jesus said that God causes the sun to shine and the rain to fall on good people and bad people alike.  God doesn’t discriminate.  Even if you can’t hold it together and “your cheese is sliding off your cracker” (thank you, Brennan Manning), you are still loved and accepted as you are.

Love yourself.  That’s the hidden commandment.  That’s the truth that has the power to free you from the shackles of envy and help you become the best possible version of yourself.  Then, and only then, can you learn to love others for who they really are.  Then we can all learn together how to give back the infinite love that God has already lavished on us.

Good advice…

Lyda K. Hawes's avatarSee Lyda Run

Dear Churches Seeking New Members, 

My husband and I moved to the city a few years ago and have been ‘between churches’ ever since. We’ve been to visit quite a few of you and have some observations you may find helpful in encouraging more new members:

  • No Public Humiliation – please don’t make us stand up in a room full of total strangers and introduce ourselves. We want to be anonymous because we’re not sure we want to see you again and, frankly, we’re still seeing other churches. It’s not you, it’s us, and we just don’t know you very well yet. (And, believe me, if we do decide to join you, you’ll be lucky to get us to shut up, so enjoy the quiet while you can get it.)
  • Acknowledge We Exist – Being anonymous is not the same as being invisible. We’re probably going to be a little…

View original post 825 more words

Other Voices on the Quest for a Better Gospel

 

As many of you superfriends and blogofans already know, my personal spiritual journey is one of constant searching for alternatives to the Bad Old Good News that is typically propagated by most traditional expressions of western Christianity (i.e. Roman Catholicism and Fundamentalist Protestantism).

One of the stops on this journey was with my former roommate from seminary (If you thought of Dark Helmet as soon as I said “former roommate,” you get 3 extra points).

Aaron Blue is the founder and Director of the Charis Project, an outreach organization that supports holistic and sustainable community development through orphanages in Thailand.  Click the link above to learn more and support it.

While Aaron’s ecclesiastical roots lie in the early Vineyard movement, his is a theology that defies categorization.  What made me gravitate toward him in seminary is the fact that he doesn’t seem to live by the same rules that everyone else does.  A rather Christlike quality, if you ask me.  Aaron would describe himself as follows: “While everyone else is trying to win the Superbowl, I’m questioning the validity of the NFL.”

Aaron’s journey has taken him in some interesting directions.  We disagree on a lot, but that’s okay with us because we both believe that dogmatic conformity is probably the single worst criterion for evaluating the quality of one’s spirituality.

He keeps a blog of signposts from his metaphysical travels:

In Search of a Shameless Gospel

I recommend starting with this post:

Running from a Shameful Gospel – Part 1

This post is particularly reminiscent of conversations that Aaron and I were having about this time seven years ago.  Those conversations played a big part in helping me talk about the Bad Old Good News in terms that are as ridiculous as the theology itself.  Here’s how I like to say it:

The Bad Old Good News

You were such a horrible person that God had to torture and murder the only person in the world who didn’t deserve it.  If you don’t think this is the best idea ever, God will torture you forever along with most of the rest of the human race.

Another favorite rendition:

Telepathically tell the zombie that he’s your master and you get to live forever.

That kind of “good news” is neither good nor news.  It’s either silly, offensive, or both.  Aaron and I both set off on our separate quests for a better Gospel.  The journey has led us in very different directions, but we continue to share notes.

Aaron Blue

 

I’ve literally been looking for a copy of this book for years. Then, last Sunday, one of the elders in my congregation handed me one.
I’m looking forward to reading this for several reasons. First, it’s a classic of the Civil Rights Movement. Martin Luther King read it and drew all kinds of inspiration from it. In fact, I can’t help but tell the story of Thurman’s visit to India, where he was granted an audience with Mahatma Gandhi. Gandhi lamented that he didn’t have more opportunity to share his message of nonviolence with America, but he also prophesied that a member of the African American community would one day arise and do so. Shall we say that Gandhi foretold to Howard Thurman the ministry of Martin Luther King?
The second reason why I am excited about this book is because of Thurman’s focus on the person of Jesus. This year, as I have been struggling to work out for myself what a post-evangelical and liberal faith looks like, the Christological question looms large. I don’t want to be an unfaithful friend to Jesus, but any relationship we have must be our own, not dictated or categorized by strict adherence to literal interpretations of creeds and formulae. I find myself drawn to the motto of the Unitarian Universalist Christian Fellowship: “Freely Following Jesus.” Something about that rings true to what I’m trying to do.
The final reason why I am excited to finally get my hands on a copy of this book is closely related to the previous reason. I wonder if God might be currently working in my life to redeem my experience of Protestantism (particularly in its Baptist expressions). Through individual voices like Thurman, King, and Harry Emerson Fosdick and through churches like Wedgewood and Binkley Baptist, I am coming to see a different side of the Baptist tradition than the legalistic fundamentalism I experienced at Cresset Christian Academy. I’m hearing, perhaps for the first time, the voice of freedom in their politics and theology. It’s an inspiring vision. I had a shocking thought the other day: I might even one day consider taking a call from a Baptist congregation (provided that it was more like “Howard Thurman” Baptist than “Jerry Falwell” Baptist).
So, that’s what I’ve got for now…

debwestover's avatarMissional Living

At the brink of the Civil Rights Movement, pastor and writer Howard Thurman released the book Jesus and the Disinherited. Prevalent then and now, the book provides a foundation of reasoning for the need for non-violent movements to fight the oppressive systems that exist. Thurman’s book focuses primarily on the disinherited state of African-Americans at that time in the United States, where segregation was the norm, Jim Crow laws existed, and people’s rights were being disregarded.

Using Jesus as the ultimate example, Thurman discusses how to overcome, in a peaceful manner, the frustration and pain that can develop from being oppressed. Jesus life provides endless examples of how to react to oppressive and controlling systems. He himself was part of a minority group within the Roman Empire, a large dominant and controlling group, and not only was he part of the Jewish minority, he also came from a poor…

View original post 266 more words

The Art of Letting Go

Over in Africa, they have a very interesting way of catching monkeys.  First, they secure a hollowed-out coconut to the end of a line and make a small hole in one end.  Next, they put something small and tasty (e.g. some nuts) inside the coconut.  Eventually, a monkey comes along and realizes that there’s a treat inside the coconut.  It reaches inside to get the treat.  Here’s the catch: the hole in the coconut is only big enough for the monkey’s hand to get through if it is empty.  As long as the monkey is holding onto the treat, it can’t get out.  If the monkey wanted to, it could let go and get away any time.  However, they almost never do that.  Instead, they hang on for dear life, even though it means their death.

Letting go is a hard thing to do.  Just ask parents who have ever dropped a sons or daughters off at college.  You hope that everything you’ve said and done over the past 18 years will be enough to guide them on their way, you draw out the goodbyes for as long as you can, but there’s no stopping that inevitable moment when you just let go, get back into the car, and drive away without them.

Our Buddhist neighbors have a lot to teach us Christians about the art of letting go.  Their entire spiritual path is built around that idea.  They start with the observation that life is full of suffering.  We never suffer, so they say, for the reasons we think we do.  We think we suffer because we lack something we want.  We say things like this: I wish I had a better job.  Why?  So I can make more money.  Why?  So I can buy more expensive things.  Why?  So I can impress this other person.  Why?  So she or he will like me.  And so on and so forth.  Happiness, we think, is always just one step outside of our reach.  We think it lies in some other job, object, or person.  If I could just have that, then I would be happy.

“No,” the Buddha says, “you won’t be.”  Real suffering doesn’t come from your lack of something, but from your desire for it.  If you can learn to let go of that inner urge to always be reaching and grabbing for the next big thing, you’ll find real happiness.  Along the way, you’ll also begin to find out who you really are inside.  We tend to lose sight of that in our endless pursuit of the next big thing.  We get lost in the rat race.  As we learn to let go, we find ourselves again.  The end result of this process is what Buddhists have always called Enlightenment.  All of their rituals and meditation exercises are oriented toward this one goal.  It’s all about letting go.

The art of letting go factors rather highly in this morning’s reading from the gospel according to Mark.  Our story is part of a series of stories that we started talking about two weeks ago on Transfiguration Sunday.  It began with the story of a blind man who Jesus had to heal twice.  After the first time Jesus touched him, he was beginning to see, but everything was still blurry.  After the second time, he could see clearly.  We took this as a kind of metaphor for Peter, one of Jesus’ disciples, who was in the process of learning how to see (in a spiritual sense), but wasn’t quite seeing things clearly yet.

In the section just before today’s passage, Jesus asks Peter, “Who do you say that I am?”

Peter boldly replies, “You are the Messiah.”

Then Jesus begins to explain what it means to be the Messiah.  He tells his disciples that the Messiah “must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again.”

At this point, Peter steps in and pulls Jesus aside with some friendly advice.  One might say that Peter saw Jesus as the hot new presidential candidate and himself as Jesus’ campaign manager.  Peter’s idea of Jesus as the Messiah (or “Christ”) was very different from Jesus’ idea of himself.  Peter thought the Messiah was supposed to be part political leader, part military revolutionary, and part spiritual guru: Che Guevara meets Barack Obama meets Dr. Phil.  With God on their side, they were supposed to have a meteoric rise to fame and power.

But Jesus, it seemed, had a very different idea of what his life is supposed to be all about.  Instead of fame and fortune, he talked about suffering and rejection.  This really got under Peter’s skin, so he got up in Jesus’ face about it, but Jesus let him have it right back.

“Get behind me, Satan!”  He said, “For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.”  In other words, there’s a bigger story going on than the one you see right in front of your face.  Jesus knew how he fit into that bigger story because he knew who he was as God’s beloved Son.  He would conquer the world, not through violence, but through the power of self-giving love.  This was not an insight he could have had if he had been busy selling out to his culture’s idea of what a Messiah should be.  But Peter, as it turns out, was having a hard time letting go of that idea.  He was holding onto it so tight because he was absolutely convinced that the future security and prosperity of his country depended on it.

Don’t people still do that all the time?  If you flip through the various noise news channels on any given day, you’ll find no shortage of people angrily shouting at each other because everyone is convinced that their idea holds the key to peace and plenty in the future.  Whenever they stop to take a breather, the audience is instantly swamped with commercials for products that also claim to hold the secret to happiness.

We human beings have this crazy tendency to get so caught up in our own egos, ideas, products, and relationships that we forget who we really are inside.  We are God’s beloved children.  Our lives are part of a bigger story that has been going on since the beginning of time and will continue until its end.  Jesus never forgot that truth.  His faith in his identity as God’s beloved Son gave him the strength to resist the temptation to sell out to the popular ideology of his day.  Suffering and rejection didn’t scare him one bit because he knew the great Love at the center of the universe that transcends fear and death.

Today, God is inviting you to enter into a greater awareness of that Love by letting go of your attachment to those things, people, or ideas that compete for your trust.  Jesus says, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it. For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life? Indeed, what can they give in return for their life?”

You are invited to participate in the art of letting go and trust in the Love that is stronger than death.  Maybe the thing for you to let go of is an idea, thing, or person.  Maybe it’s an old grudge or crush.  Maybe it’s an unhealthy attachment to work or a cause you believe in.  It can be good things too:  like your attachment to your family, church, or system of beliefs.  Many of these are wonderful things, but they can’t tell you who you are or give you lasting happiness.  Whatever your attachment is, Jesus is inviting you to let it go and rediscover your true identity as God’s beloved child.

It’s not an easy path.  Christians call it “the Way of the Cross” for a reason.  You will have to face your own fear of mortality.  You will have to sacrifice your sense of security.  But the promise, as Jesus gives it, is that you can ultimately save your life by letting go of it.  That’s what faith in the Resurrection is all about.

None of us does this perfectly.  We’re all refusing to let go of something inside that keeps us from embracing who we really are and living the kind of full life that God intends for us.  The good news is that our refusal to let go doesn’t change who we are as God’s beloved children; it only keeps us from recognizing the truth about ourselves.

As I was writing this sermon, I got a message about an old college buddy who passed away quite suddenly this weekend.  Like all such announcements, it reminded me of the fragility of our biological existence.  It also reminded me that the call to let go extends even to letting go of life itself.  God asks a lot from us (everything, in fact).  I compare it to doing a trust fall off the edge of the Grand Canyon, believing that we are held, as the apostle Paul says, by a reality that is higher, deeper, longer, and broader than we can possible imagine.  It is the Love that passes knowledge and the peace surpassing understanding.  When we are called upon to trust and let go, whether it’s letting go of some person, thing, or idea that we’re clinging to for happiness and security or letting go of life itself in our final moments, we journey forward in faith, trusting that we are not wandering into the darkness, but are being welcomed into the light.  We are not enveloped by oblivion; we are embraced by eternity.