20080928 Jars of Clay

20080928 Jars of Clay

www.stmichaeluoc.org
www.orthoanalytika.org

2 Corinthians 4: 6-15
St. Matthew 22: 35-46

This is a difficult world. There are so many of us who are sick. There are so many of us that are hurting. Not just sick and hurting from physical ailments and pain, but also mentally and spiritually. We are a wounded people. And among almost all of us, there is the mistaken belief that we should bear our pain in secret. While there is a time and a place for stoicism, this is not it. Despite what the world teaches us.

You see, modern psychology has it exactly backwards. It teaches that you take care of the necessities first (health, food, clothing, shelter), then move on towards things like self-actualization later. But Christianity turns this hierarchy of Maslow on its head: we are to seek perfection and salvation through Christ first, trusting that He will take care of our other needs in turn. We do not wait to dedicate ourselves to Christ and His Church until everything else is taken care of: we seek Him first so that everything else is ordered around Him. So that everything else is established on a firm foundation. We do not wait until our pain is gone, until we are healed of all our ills, until we are perfect and have “everything together” to come to Church. We should never, ever, suffer alone, apart from Christ and the Church.

St. Paul teaches us the right way to approach our suffering in his epistle lesson today, and today we will go through this epistle in order to understand this teaching. St. Paul calls us “earthen vessels” to remind us of the frailty of our bodies; and to tell us that despite this frailty we can endure. We can endure because it is God Himself, the one who “commanded light to shine out of the darkness” [who created the world from nothing] has come into our hearts through the mercy of Jesus Christ. It is thanks to what fills us that we can endure.

“We are hard-pressed on every side, yet not crushed.”

St. Paul is referring to the Roman practice of putting criminals under slabs of granite, adding weight until they were crushed beneath them. Have you felt this way? Of course you have. All of us have. I dare say that most of us probably do right now. We use the word “stressful” to describe modern life, and it fits with this metaphor. St. John Chrysostom says that these “sides” that press in on us are “concerning our foes, our friends, necessities, other needs, from them that are hostile and of our own household”. The responsibilities of this world – and our inability to address them all properly – seek to crush us. Despite this and the frailties of our fallen bodies and minds, we can endure.

“We are perplexed, but not in despair.”

St. Paul wrote this referring to the impossibility of getting every calculation right. He wrote this two-thousand years ago – how much more is it true now! The array of choices before us is bewildering, and often the consequences of failure seem so catastrophic as to be downright paralyzing. And none of us have gone through this computational gauntlet unscathed: everyone has miscalculated and suffered as a result. Worse yet, we have all caused others – people we love dearly - to suffer as a result of our own miscalculations. Such mistakes and the fear of making more can build over time, threatening to throw us into hopelessness; to suck the life and joy out of our world. Yet somehow we can endure.

“[We are] persecuted, but not forsaken. Struck down but not destroyed”.

A person is persecuted for going against the prevailing law; it cannot happen unless those who administer the law hate you or see you as an enemy. They see you as an enemy and they try to destroy you. And please do not doubt that the powers and principalities of this world work for your destruction. But the ultimate power, the authority greater than those that rule this world, never turns against you. Never forsakes you. As long as we walk in it, this fallen world will strike us down. We fall so many times, both due to our weakness and the strength of those that oppress us. But we need not be destroyed. Somehow, we can endure.

This flesh and blood, this earthen vessel, is so fragile, so weak, but it need not break. It need not break because it is “always carrying about ... the dying of the Lord Jesus.” God does not will us to suffer- it is the evil we ourselves have planted here that does that – but God will (through the Christ we bear within us) preserve and strengthen us through our suffering.

To summarize St. Paul’s lesson, we are able to endure and thrive through suffering because Christ makes us more than the easily shattered jars of clay that we inhabit.

But there is something more; another way that Christ works through us in our suffering. We are made to live in community. Just as our miscalculations harm those around us, so too do the things we do right bless and strengthen those around us. I am not talking about making the right investments, keeping a sound budget or portfolio, or being attentive to the needs of our family. This is something more profound and more difficult for many to understand. St. Paul teaches us that we persevere despite our human frailty “so that the life of Jesus may be manifested in our mortal flesh”. Christ endured suffering not for Himself, but so that we might endure through Him. And when we persevere, it is obvious to all that we do it in Christ; through Christ. We become victors that inspire others toward victory themselves.

I say that this is difficult for many to understand because endurance and perseverance are not always pretty. They do not always look like victory to the world. It, in its fallenness, thinks suffering to be humiliating; something shameful to be hidden. Worse yet, it teaches us to think this way. We hide our suffering in our hearts, in our veiled expressions, in our closed mouths, behind our closed doors. We do not think it proper to share our pain, to let others see our weakness. This is the culture we must break. And we must break it for at least two reasons.

First, the Church is not just for those who are well. It is the hospital and Christ is the Great Physician. You do not go to the hospital when you are well, but when you are ill. We should not wait until we have healed from the pain of broken relationships [or whatever else] to come back to Church, we come immediately and constantly so that Christ can hasten our healing. Remember that God ate with lepers, healed them, and brought them salvation. He wants to do the same with you. Do not hide your pain from Him and His Church.

Second, we suffer together so that the Love of Christ might grow among us. As a priest, I am occasionally allowed to see things that few others do, so let me share a short testimony. Part of my calling is to visit the sick, and especially those whose bodies have all but failed them. This is a very difficult time for everyone. To many it seems as though the sick have been robbed of all dignity; that they have been “brought low”; that, perhaps, it would be better for it all to have ended long ago. I sympathize with this sentiment – no one desires to see anyone suffer, much less those whom they love. It is difficult, but I always come away from such encounters moved. The tears they bring are not just of sorrow for the pain and loss; but due to the love the encounter has grown in my heart – for Christ is so strongly manifested in our mortal flesh. When we suffer alone, we keep this witness hidden, like a light beneath a bushel.

In conclusion, we suffer together because we are Christ. When we see the cross, we do not just see the suffering, but straight through it into the Resurrection. We are strengthened in suffering, knowing that “He who raised up the Lord Jesus will also raise us up.” As St. Paul ends today’s lesson, we suffer together because “all things are for your sakes, that grace, having spread through the many, may cause thanksgiving to abound to the glory of God.”

In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.