Hearts Inscribed (Lent 5B)

Once upon a time writing was produced in a very different way than we write today. Writing was not as easy as word processing hundreds of words in an hour, and having the luxury of deleting as fast, or faster than we can write them down.  Writing was not as easy as grabbing a fresh piece of paper and scribbling down some notes.

Once upon a time human stories, histories, and transactions were recreated in stone.  Scribes were workers in stone.  They chiseled images, hieroglyphs, and letters onto monumental pieces of stone. It took time and precision. And their written text lasted down through to today.

Once upon a time, humans formed clay tablets for the purpose of recording written documents.  Into wet clay, scribes would use stylists, to push letters into the tablet. When the clay dried, the text was preserved, indented, in the clay. Archaeologists find these texts today, on tablets, seals, and writing on various styles of pottery.

Once upon a time, humans used homemade papyrus sheets and scrolls to put down their written words. Papyrus was made from layers of reeds, one layer vertical the next horizontal, put together wet they bonded together as the sun dried them. As the scribe wrote with ink across the slightly bumpy surface the papyrus soaked in the ink.  At times, words written on papyrus were scraped off and bleached in the sun, so the page could be used again.  Today when ancient scrolls are found the words written are read, but, more interesting is the second reading of the ghost texts that had been scraped off earlier. The written words can still be read with the correct light.  The ink had seeped into the papyrus and could not be entirely removed.

With these forms of writing in mind, hear again the words from Jeremiah:

This is the covenant that I will make…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.

Writing, to the first people hearing Jeremiah’s words, was not a simple scrawl on a piece of paper; something that could be erased later or crumpled up and recycled.  Writing was not graffiti on a building that could be removed with sweat equity and the right chemical. Writing was inscribing.  I will inscribe it on their hearts. Whether chipping a rock surface, pushing characters into clay, or ink seeping into the fabric of the papyrus, writing meant a change to that which was written upon. The item was changed, permanently, never to be the same again.

When we hear the words of the Lord from Jeremiah, do we hear that God writes on our hearts – inscribes our hearts – such that our hearts are changed forever?

Philosophically perhaps, we have entertained such an idea.  In the reading from Hebrews, we hear of Jesus who learned obedience through suffering, and was made perfect; becoming the source of eternal salvation.  The Gospel tells how a grain of wheat must die, change – permanently-, so that it can grow and bear much fruit. It is alluded to that Jesus is to die, and through the death, the ruler of the world will be driven out, all people will be drawn to Jesus; God’s name will be glorified.

What does it mean when growth, fruit, perfection, salvation, glory, follow after heavy statements:  through suffering, through death--- ?

I understand today’s readings via a story I retell. I have shared it with you before; it is not my own story; it has been written and retold many times; a parable of the Perfect Heart.

There is a young man in the centre square of the city.  He is pontificating on the beauty of his perfectly shaped, precisely working heart. He is proud of his heart – gleaming without a flaw to be seen – the heart has drawn the attention of bystanders.  A crowd grows to a catch a look and to praise the beauty of the heart.

After a period of time, when a large crowd had gathered, an old gentleman, wobbled into the centre of the square.  The crowd parted with gasps as he walked directly to the pompous young man. The crowd had gasped for they were shocked by the heart beating in the man’s chest.

His heart was old, discoloured, beaten, scarred, and bleeding. The old man confronted the youth and said, “Your heart is not nearly as beautiful as mine.”  To which the youth protested: “Sir your heart is falling apart, it has gouges and holes, bulges and patches.  How can it be beautiful?” 

After a long pause, the old man explained that although his heart did not look perfect, he wouldn’t trade it for all the world.  Every hole was made when the man loved or had compassion.  He would take a piece of his heart, rip it out, and give it to the other. Sometimes the other would give him a piece of their heart in return and he would add it to his heart.  The pieces didn’t quite fit perfectly, but, the man’s love was woven with the love of the other.  Some of the scars and nicks, the bleeding; were the places where love was not returned to him and his heart waited for a day when those relationships would be healed.  His heart was a lifelong masterpiece created by love --- it was a creation of risk, as the interchange of love can be a tricky thing; giving, receiving, forgiving, thanking, were not always shared in equal measure.

The young man, and the gathered crowd, thought about this.

And as they did, the old man reached into his heart, took a piece and offered it to the young man. The old man had made another hole in his heart. 

The young man responded by taking a piece of his perfect looking heart and gave it to the old man. He placed the love of the old man in his own heart.  It didn’t fit perfectly, there was a jagged edge.  He was humbled and the perfect heart, became one of beauty, as love and compassion took root.

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. ...I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts.

I was asked how it is that people turn out the way they do. How does one have the attitude of the young man? How does another have an old heart? There are examples in many of our families where one sibling embodies compassion, another anger, another indifference. They grew up in the same house, same parental figures, you would think the same values.  Somewhere though experiences and interpretations of the experiences were different, and so too then are the individual’s ability to self-differentiate and to take risks.  Perhaps it has to do with what has been, is allowed, to be inscribed on the heart.  Was there so much anger or fear that love could not penetrate and write on the heart?  Did the individual dwell on surface matters, creating walls for self protection, so that any love offered was superficial --- not changing the substance of the heart at the core of their being?  Were other’s hearts so scarred and left bleeding, the person so exhausted they could not build walls, so the rawness simply welcomed any kindness offered? Did the kindnesses grow and grow until the heart was mostly whole and began reciprocating? Are some people more prone to taking risks?

I wonder if in the giving and receiving of the pieces of our hearts – in the midst of messy relationship living- God forgives our iniquities and remembers our sin no more, because the brokenness is replaced with shared brokenness, a shared love that is centred and directed on wholeness through dying to self and growing fruit …fruit that is the permanent change of sin into relational living.  

This is the fullness of God’s covenant and the last words we hear before entering Jerusalem with Jesus next Sunday – the week where we walk with Jesus to the cross. Today’s scriptures are to remind us that the event coming, Jesus’ death, was God inscribing God’s heart, with a love and ultimate compassion born out suffering and death. God risking God’s heart out of love, to draw people to Godself… this is writing that inscribes -permanently changes one’s heart when it is witnessed and experienced.

Earlier we prayed Psalm 51:

Create in me a clean heart, O God, and put a new and right spirit within me.
Do not cast me away from your presence, and do not take your holy spirit from me.
Restore to me the joy of your salvation, and sustain in me a willing spirit.

This is a risky prayer on our part. Creating a clean heart, a right spirit, restoring joy of your salvation, a willing spirit... in essence, we are asking to be the “old man” from the parable of the perfect heart. We are asking God to flood our hearts with the cleansing power of God’s gift of life --- love that casts out fear, love that melts wrath, love that conquers death.  We are asking that God’s gift of life – ultimate love—work through our spirit so we can be God’s presence in the world. Applied this means that we will risk loving –everybody, anybody, somebody, nobody—and we do this even though it will mean suffering and dying. We will be humbled, hurt, scarred --- and maybe not right away, but, down the road, love will be returned. Through relational living, our hearts will be made new, restored to joy …for as Jesus said: when I, [when Love] is lifted up from the earth, I will draw all people to myself.

I will put my law within them, I will write – inscribe-  it on their hearts;

 I will be their God, and they shall be my people. 

THE Destination - Lent 1

From the vast ocean that is you, O God,

My heart can only sip a drop

Without bloating to the point of explosion      Lenten Prayer- Edward Hays (all that’s printed in purple)

This snippet of poetry is from Edward Hays’s, Lenten Hobo Honeymoon. In this book he reflects on the journey of Lent using sign post markers. The markers used are symbols that helped American slaves find safe passage via the Underground Railroad, north into Canada. The symbols marked stations where one could find safe lodging, hospitable people, medicine, food, dangerous dogs, and areas to avoid.

This year the scriptures read through the Sundays of Lent are sign posts marking covenants God made with God’s people. We will witness times when people broke the covenant, and when others returned to the covenant. Over the next forty days, we will see the failures of human beings; despite this -- because of this -- be prepared to be drowned in God’s abundance as God honours the covenant.

From that blazing sun that is you,/ my flesh can only endure a ray/ without being charred into cinders.

The Gospel of Mark presents us with the bare-bones of the story.  Setting focus points, stations, to direct our journey. From the waters of baptism, Mark immediately moves the story to the desert.  Drown in water to journey in a place of blazing sun. The stations in the desert abruptly slap us in the face: desert … wasteland… forty days … test … wild beasts … arrest. The journey told in short sentence fragments, makes it very clear that the journey is not fun and games.  The presentation makes me think of a gym set up for circuit training. Circuit training is a set number of stations, often with weight machines, stationary bikes, rowing machines.  At each station a person works the prescribed exercise for a set amount of time – then moves to the next equipment; one works their way around the entire room, through all the stations. It is hard work.

Jesus’s forty days after his baptism are harsh.  To some extent Mark’s presentation combined with the stations of the cross on the walls, point to everyday human life where we are abruptly assaulted with deserts of condemnation and denial; wastelands of sorrow and betrayal; days of judgement; tests of bearing, helping, and caring for ourselves, for others; and wild beasts immediately bare their teeth as we struggle with crowning – as in hurting others, or letting our egos run wild, with crucifixion, and burial - death.

These are the Stations we are surrounded with this morning: Stations that we are being asked to reflect on during Lent.  The idea is that reflecting and walking through the journey of Jesus to the cross, we will return to relationship – with God, each other, creation; we will experience covenant mercy -via a sip of water, a ray of sunshine.

Blessed are you, for you give yourself to me, / in tiny droplets of the sea/ rather than the vastness of the ocean---

In a single yellow sun ray / and not in the nuclear furnace of the sun.

The Stations are helpful, a discipline for us to follow, pray through.

 Stations though are places to stop at along the journey, helpful pit stops/signposts.  Once upon a time, towns across this country had station houses. The Station house was the places that trains or buses stopped.  One could hop on, hop off, pick up gear or people; send items, travel to other places.  Trains and buses have destinations.  Parcels are addressed with final destinations.  People have tickets to a particular destination. Any one Station may be just a stop along the way, but, there is one final destination.

So I wonder as God’s covenant is recalled in our midst, as Jesus is in the desert, as we enter the Season of Lent - What is the final destination?

After being drown in the waters of baptism, we have been on a journey.  There have been lots of stations along the way. Life stations: confirmations, graduations, relocations, marriage, relationships, breakups, children, jobs, sickness, accomplishments, deaths. There have been stations of love, hate, distress, concord, guilt, loyalty, brokenness, healing.  Where are these Stations leading? What is your final destination?

Is it simply to live one day at a time? Complete your goals for the moment? Is the end retirement? Seeing a grandchild get married or have babies? Is the end destination heaven?

What is the point of stopping at the Stations offered for reflection during Lent without a forethought of the destination?

The covenant station where we stopped today reminds us of the covenant God made with Noah, a covenant that embraces all humankind and creation; a covenant that asks nothing in return.  It is pure drowning Gospel.  Imagery we recall in the thanksgiving prayer at baptism.  This station is a sip of water, a ray of sunshine, directing us to THE destination of our travels.

I wonder what Noah and his family thought about their journey and their destination. Would they live on the ark forever? Find dry ground? Resume a life similar to what was before?

When the ark found land and creation left the boat, they were met with promise and ongoing blessings– there was new life, and a new beginning – and the rainbow was both new life and a new beginning as a sign made of bits of water and a ray of sunshine; just small enough that we could behold and marvel, just enough that God would recall the covenant and relent.  Recalling covenant proclaims that God’s reign can change God’s heart and at the same time overwhelm and transform our lives.

It is the covenant with Noah that points to THE destination.  The final destination is the ultimate expression of God keeping God’s promise.  Each year we journey through Lent to God’s ultimate unconditional love that embraces all humankind and creation.  THE destination is the cross.

The cross is our destination too. We take forty days and Holy Week to journey through life situations, taking time to reflect on God in these places.  We take the temperature of our faith, evaluate our relationships, test our ability to give ourselves away as bread for the hungry. The closer we get to the cross, to reliving Jesus’s death, to bearing witness to God’s ultimate love, we are challenged more deeply to live our baptismal promises- the covenant God made with us.  When we reach Good Friday, having taken stock of our lives, visiting stations that have helped us to focus and  re-orient our attitudes; having experienced mini-conversions – those aha moments that we have used to reconnect with  God and neighbour….when there are no secrets left in the inner parts of our being, when all is left on the journey, and we come naked -empty- before God; we realize that the destination is not a fixed placed forever and ever.  This destination is not so much a place, as it is being drown in the mercy of God.  At the cross we are embraced by Being -the I am Who I am-  and this changes everything.

The destination is the cross, is God’s lavish outpouring, in the now.  It is the fulfillment of God’s reign that overwhelms and so transforms our lives that we cannot keep it to ourselves.  The experience of the cross has us live from that Being -the centre of the covenant; a relationship-God who dares to love us so boldly.

This is the point of taking this forty-day journey: to prepare ourselves for the cross, so that experiencing God – the sip of water, the ray of sunshine- we bear the cross; going into the deserts of despair with water to drink, suffering with Satan and shedding tears, walking with presence beside wild beasts, radiating a ray of sunshine amidst the rot of the wilderness. Our destination is not the end of this life as we know it. Our destination is not death.  The destination is now! It is to dare to love boldly. The destination is proclaiming Christ crucified- God’s ultimate radical keeping of the covenant.  And in this there is new life and new beginning.

Blessed are you, for my eye and mind can encircle / only so much glorious wonder.

Gracious are you to lovingly come to me / in doses of holiness I can embrace.

More wholly other and awesome are you / than anything I can know, feel, sense or see.

You are my Source and Beloved Destination.      Amen.