Sermon for September 1, 2019 - Proper 17C - The Rev'd Elise A. Feyerherm

Sirach 10:12-18 – Psalm 112 – Hebrews 13:1-8, 15-16 – Luke 14:1, 7-14

I park my car in one of the designated spots, check the number of the meter, and get out my phone; putting in the amount of time I plan to leave my car there, I know that my credit card will be charged a certain amount of money. According to what I put in, I receive an equivalent commodity. Quid pro quo.

The train arrives, and I step up to the driver, tapping my Charlie card on the designated spot. In return for the deducted fare, I get to ride on the train, although it doesn’t guarantee me a seat. Nonetheless, quid pro quo.

I get off at St. Mary’s St., walk the few blocks to Comm Ave. Over the course of the day I pray Morning Prayer with a few students, work on my course in the library, meet with other students, and teach a class. In return, Boston University deposits the contracted amount in my bank account. Students read, take exams, write papers, participate in discussions, and in exchange they receive grades and course credit toward their degree. Generally, if they do well, they get a good grade. That’s the way the system works: quid pro quo. Something for something, only in Latin it sounds a lot fancier.

This is the way our society works; this is the way many, if not most, human societies work. Even our personal relationships often follow a similar course; maybe not intentionally, but certainly on an unconscious level. We invite friends to dinner; we may not expect a return invitation, but we assume it would be an appropriate response. We give gifts, not necessarily requiring something in return, but it’s always nice when we do. And when we are the recipient, how often do we impulsively say, “But I didn’t get you anything!”? What we expect of ourselves in this situation betrays our deeper assumptions: something for something is the proper approach. Quid pro quo.

On the face of it, there’s a lot of quid pro quo going on in the scripture readings for today. The reading from Sirach seems to describe a divine-human transaction: in exchange for human pride, God inflicts calamity and annihilation. On a more positive note, the psalm promises that those who delight in God’s commandments will be blessed with might, wealth, and riches.

The idea of quid pro quo is deeply ingrained in us; in a certain sense it lies at the heart of our desire for fairness, for justice. A balance in what is given and what is received helps to ensure that depleted resources get restored, that no one because of their generosity or poverty is left empty and wanting. A system based on quid pro quo also soothes some of our fears of not being in control; if we give, we shall receive, and we’ll be all right. It’s a way of measuring where we are in life in relation to where we want to go; not just economically, but emotionally, morally, even spiritually. I put this much in; I should get this much back.

There’s so much that is right about this approach to life, and much of the time it works. How good you get at soccer or singing depends on how much you practice; being kind to others generally increases the likelihood that others will be kind to you (and to others they meet). This much is true – and – we are also called to go much, much deeper if we want to experience the ways of God.

The thing about something for something is that we almost always end up calculating and measuring; relationships become transactions, not only between ourselves, but also between us and God. And we assume that God is doing the same thing – measuring, calculating, something for something, quid pro quo. Are we right in that assumption?

Sirach and the psalmist speak of the consequences as if they have been inflicted from above, because that’s the way it often feels, doesn’t it? There is so much suffering as well as good fortune in the world, both deserved and undeserved, that sometimes it seems like the best explanation is that some outside force is inflicting it. Even when the rationale is a mystery, we still fall back on quid pro quo – something for something.

There is, no doubt, a deep connection between God’s gifts to us and our gifts to God (and to each other). But it’s not a transaction; it’s more organic and personal than that. Notice how the reading from Sirach begins: “The beginning of human pride is to forsake the Lord; the heart has withdrawn from its Maker.” In that sentence I hear clearly the word “already,” even though the writer did not include it. The results of our misdeeds, such as pride and the diminishment of others that comes with it, these results are less about God’s reaction than about the reality that we’ve already pulled away from God. When our hearts have withdrawn from the One who created and sustains us, is there really any need for external punishment? The damage is in the distance, in the turning away, in the heart’s isolation and illusions of self-sufficiency.

God does not need to punish or reward: we are doing it to ourselves most of the time. Where we see this most clearly is on a wider, societal level. Consider this nation, and our struggles these days. Three hundred years ago this summer, in 1619, the first enslaved Africans were brought to our shores. If ever there were an act of human pride and greed, born of hearts withdrawn from their Maker, this was it. Those European immigrants, clinging to racial, social, and spiritual pride, poured out, as Sirach writes, abominations: human beings in chains, forced to toil for everyone else’s benefit but their own.

And wouldn’t you say that because of this, this nation has suffered calamities? Calamities born of the original sin of racism have plagued the land and its people – Europeans, Africans, Latin and Native Americans – since the very beginning. That sin has consequences, and whether the damage is wrought by God or by our own hand, it has eaten away at us for three hundred years. Racial animus, mass incarceration, violence, deeply entrenched economic and social inequality, and white supremacy are just some of the penalties we have incurred.

So yes, there is a certain calculus involved in sin and its aftermath, whether personal or societal. Actions have consequences. The world that God has made, redeemed, and continues to sustain is made for beauty and joy and justice, and when those holy things are violated, the whole body is wounded. There is pain and suffering, not only for the oppressed but for the oppressor as well.

Actions have consequences. In all of this, however, God is not keeping score. There is no calculation, only love, abundantly bestowed and overflowing. When strangers are shown hospitality, when the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind are honored guests, and those in prison are remembered as if we ourselves were in prison with them, God’s love shines forth in joy. And when pride and greed and indifference win the day, that love does not come to an end; it merely becomes sorrow.

Jesus does say that when we are in line with God’s love, we will be “repaid at the resurrection of the righteous,” but I don’t think that has to do with quid pro quo. I think that the more we align ourselves with God in our time on earth, the deeper and broader and fuller becomes our capacity to feel joy in God’s presence, and that is payment enough, both here on earth and in the age to come.

No transaction. No quid pro quo. In God’s economy, we can leave our Charlie cards at home.