Love is the New Madness

How many of you are movie fans? Then, you will know what I mean when I talk about a "boy meets girl" plotline. We know how it goes…

"Boy meets girl. Boy loses girl. Boy gets girl by the end." It's a tried and true formula…it's a comfortable pattern…we can predict what's going to happen, even when the movie presents a fresh take on the plot, or some new twist. But, regardless, it's formulaic.

I have the same reaction to today's gospel reading. It feels very familiar. And I could reduce it to a simple outline:

* Jesus meets cripple

* Jesus heals cripple

* Authorities are angered

* Jesus rebukes authorities

* The crowd goes wild

We've heard all this before. We know how the story goes. It seems unremarkable. Almost formulaic.

So, how do we keep this all-too-familiar story from becoming just another "Jesus-meets-cripple" plot? How do we make it fresh again?

One way is to delve into its meaning at the time. And another is to ask: what does this mean for us, today?

How do we begin to capture the sense of the crowd and the reaction of temple leaders when Jesus first performed this act of healing? How do we begin to understand what the fuss was all about?

Let's imagine ourselves to be the Hebrew people, newly freed from Egypt. We are beginning an epic journey, both literally to our "promised land", and spiritually, as we experience anew our relationship with Yahweh.

In our years of wandering, we develop customs that help shape our culture. We have the commandments, received by Moses, that guide our lives. There are weekly Sabbath observances, which continually bring our focus back to Yahweh who saved us.

We develop rules and practices about food, cleanliness, and sexual relations, which not only keep us healthy, but also set us apart from other tribes. They also are a means by which we attempt to become pure and holy, as our god is pure and holy. We wish to be worthy of our calling, as a "chosen race, a royal priesthood, a people set apart."

Fast forward hundreds of years later, to the time of Jesus. The Sabbath is still a sacred time. Rules and practices, including what are called "purity codes", are still in force. Purity codes draw definite lines between those who are pure (men, for example, and those who are bodily whole) and those who are not (women during their periods, crippled folk and others). If purity helps us remain holy, then it behooves us to avoid those situations, or people, which would taint us.

In our gospel today, Jesus takes an action forbidden on the Sabbath, toward someone who is ritually unclean, thereby tainting himself. It's a perfect storm. Controversy ensues. The religious leaders are incensed. Jesus calls them out. The crowd laps it up.

Some questions…..

What might Jesus have been saying about the Sabbath codes? The nature of compassion? The spontaneity of god's healing love?

And the stifling nature of proper observances.

Marcus Borg, in his fascinating book, Meeting Jesus Again for the First Time, shares this observation about the potential trap of proper observances:

"… it is possible to be centered in sacred tradition and yet have one's heart far from God."

But, "wait", we say. Traditions ensure continuity and help us define and distinguish ourselves. Rules can be useful. Norms can provide structure and take some guesswork out of behavior.

We spoke about the formation of the Hebrew people in which norms and rules and practices were crucial. Sacred tradition was indeed formational.

Let's move to our present day. Rules can bring order out of chaos. Traffic rules are simple examples that save us from the unmanageability of heavy objects travelling at high speeds, driven by individuals doing exactly as they please.

Traditions, rules and norms help societies to function, help organizations coalesce and produce, help focus our energies and organize our experiences.

But, what happens when someone or something turns those upside down? Why was the civil rights movement so frightening for many? Why the fuss about Gene Robinson and then Mary Glasspool? Why did the religious leaders of Jesus time take issue with his actions?

I would say for a few reasons…These new movements…in Jesus' time…in social justice…in our own church….called attention to the life force, expressed in a way that didn't abide by the rules, or perhaps could not be bound by tradition. They did not make sense in some normal way. We had no context for them.

Or perhaps, we had too much of our own context, which limited our vision. In other terms, we were too hooked on holiness and cared little for compassion.

So, it may be that these eruptions showed us something we didn't want to see,….that our rules, our context, our ways of living, of thinking about others, of framing what is acceptable…these were good for us, but didn't suit others. In fact, were good for us, but, in some cases, allowed others to suffer, or in fact, destroyed them.

Which then raises more questions…

Who gets to say what is good, what is right?

Who gets to set the rules?

And, if what is good or right is somehow not in the best interest of others, then what does that say about we who abide by those rules, or, in fact, have formulated those rules?

Parker Palmer, in his book Let Your Life Speak, talks about the relationship between our inner selves and our institutions. He says:

"If our institutions are rigid, it is because our hearts fear change; if they set us in mindless competition with each other, it is because we value victory over all else; if they are heedless of human well-being, it is because something in us is heartless as well."

So, then, I ask, who needs healing? Is it just the woman crippled for 18 years? Or is it also the synagogue leader, who objected to healing on the Sabbath? He, who could not see beyond his context to her need. He who was crippled by centuries-old traditions. Whose heart was bound by man-made strictures.

Norms and rules can help us move forward without having to think too much. And in the case of traffic, that's a great thing. Very few people get hurt when we all drive by the rules.

Norms and rules, and even traditions, can also keep us from feeling too much. They can become the barriers we maintain against the healing of others, the inclusion of others, or even the visibility of others.

Then there is much more at stake. It's not just the illegal u-turn. It is injustice, and sickness and death for others.

And, I would argue, it is sickness and death for us. Although, a more slow and insidious sickness, and a much more gradual dying…..A sickness of soul which comes from the denial of grace, or love, or forgiveness, to others. The crippling of the heart through self-righteousness. The gradual blinding of our eyes from our own narrowness of vision.

I am not free from this. I know what this is like. I do, at times, live by my own purity code.

I have on occasion decided who is worthy of my love and who isn't. I have decided who deserves to be forgiven and who should sit in exile, outside my generosity. I have decided who should be made well, or who should wallow in their misfortune because I think "that's what they deserve."

And then, Jesus says to me, as if to the leader of the synagogue:

"You hypocrite! Would you not untie your animal and bring it to drink?"

And what can I possibly say in return?

Because I, like the synagogue leader, bend the rules to suit my purposes. I make exceptions in my own favor. And, yet I am unwilling to do the same for someone who needs compassion but whom I consider "impure" in some way.

And, how relentlessly do the works and words of Jesus remind me that those we deem outside my circles - our modern-day versions of the tax payer, the prostitute, the leper - are the very ones whom God calls into relationship? That the 'least of these' is more important than the greatest, in God's economy.

We see, in Jesus, a radical inclusiveness, that shatters boundaries. That radical inclusiveness is the evidence of love in action. We hear, in Paul, that in Christ there is no East, west, Jew, Greek, Slave, Free." And by extension, no pure or impure. No outcasts. There is no identity, except that which is found in, and through love. This is true freedom. And, for some, it could seem like madness.

Nikos Kazantzakis, in his book, Saint Francis, recounts how Francis would come into the public square and entice people to come and

"… hear the new madness"….And when asked what this new madness was, his answer was "Love. Love. Love. Love is the new madness."

This intrigues me. So, I went to the dictionary.

We could say that "Madness" is akin to "insanity" which is akin to being deranged. And some definitions present themselves.

"Extreme folly or unreasonableness"

"To disturb the operation or order or arrangement of"

Madness. I think Francis, like Jesus before him, is encouraging us toward madness, in a way, when we are able to love without bounds.

I am not suggesting that we give up our reason. But that we disturb the order of our thinking. We re-arrange it. We shake it up. If we are willing to come hear the new madness, and really take it in, we may lose the most narrow parts of our minds.

We may be able to ask ourselves, in what ways do I discriminate between the worthy and the unworthy? The pure and the impure? How do those distinctions prohibit me from living compassionately?

If we re-arrange our thinking, we may lose some other things:

* Our small-heartedness

* The self-righteousness of our own agenda

* Our belief that we only have so much love to dole out, so we better save it for those close to us

* Our belief that in some way we create and 'own' love

We may instead come to see that we are the conduit of love. A love that is now unblocked by the reasons, categories, distinctions and judgments that can reduce, to a mere trickle, the thundering waterfall of divine compassion.

I want to borrow from Francis, and issue my own invitation. Let's not just "hear the new madness." Let's live it, together. Let's go crazy, with love.

Amen.