Opening Up

Sermon on the Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost by Pr. Craig Mueller + September 8, 2024

She’s bored, lonely, and unhappy. Marya has been teaching children too long, it seems. She’s alone in the world. Her life is monotonous. And if anything, her heart is closed.

Marya is the main character in a 19th century Russian short story by Anton Chekhov called “In the Cart.” Not what I usually read. In a book given to me, author George Saunders, uses Russian short stories, in essence, to give a master class on writing, reading, and life.

Back to the story. On Marya’s way to town, riding in a cart, she encounters Hanov, a man she knows, a man who intrigues her, a man she finds handsome. But they could never be a couple. For so many reasons. But later, in a surprising moment, Marya notices a woman in a crowd. The woman reminds her of her mother. And suddenly her heart is opened. She remembers happier times. She remembers who she used to be. She begins to weep. And in that moment, Marya is rejuvenated.

When Marya sees Hanov soon after, she smiles at him. She imagines a happiness that could be. And it seemed to her that the sky, the windows, the trees were shining with happiness. But then it all vanishes. And we wonder: from this moment, will she open her heart? Or will she go back to her old ways? At the end of the story, we don’t know.

How open are you? What are you carrying? What is closing your heart? Loneliness? Unhappiness? Boredom? Fear? Sadness?

In addition to Marya’s story, let’s bring in other voices.

Listen to the voice of the Syrophoenician woman in the gospel. Jesus is on a mission to his own kind. But this assertive Gentile woman is brokenhearted, due to her daughter’s illness. She approaches Jesus, and begs him to heal her daughter. But then Jesus does the unthinkable. He seems to cast her aside. “Let the children be fed first. It’s not fair to take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs,” Jesus says. You’re calling me and my kind, a dog, she thinks to herself. But this woman has hutzpah. This outsider calls Jesus out. Through her, Jesus will have his eyes opened, his ears unstopped. As one writer puts it, rather boldly herself, “It’s the Son of God who must face his own blind spots, his own rudeness, his own prejudice, and allow himself to ‘be opened’ to the full, glorious, and uncomfortable implications of the gospel.” (Debie Thomas)

So the woman retorts: Sir, even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs. Then Jesus, with open heart and open mind, heals the woman’s daughter of the demon.

But there’s more in the next scene. Bring in the voice of the deaf man with the speech impediment. Jesus put his finger in my ear, spat, touched my tongue. And he said words I will never forget. Ephphatha. Be opened. And from that moment I could hear. And could speak.”

Bring in the voice of James who takes us in a different direction, quite pointed, indeed! All lives matter, you say? Of course. But at the same time, God is partial. Partial to the poor, partial to those in deepest need. James calls out his community, calls us out as well. You’re closed off, he says. You honor the well-to-do, well-clothed person and cast aside the poor one, the outcast one, the mentally ill one, the addict. All your faith is nothing without works. Your faith is dead if it doesn’t lead to action. Be opened. Open your hearts. Open your minds. Open your hands.

Bring in another voice from another culture. Bishop Dalcy Dlamini from Eswatini, is one of the “Africa Six” Anglican bishops of Africa. She interprets the passage from James through the lens of climate injustice.

Hear Bishop Dlamini’s voice: “As a church we need to think of ways of building bridges between the poor and the wealthy. Such bridges will eliminate the environmental injustices that the poor usually suffer from the hands of the rich. How can the voices of the most vulnerable be heard by the powerful? We also need to hear the cry of the animals which are fed in a manner that is against their natural way of life. They are confined to little spaces unable to move, such as battery farms. Our consumeristic society is killing the earth with so many throw aways and plastic rubbish building up. Why don’t we give more honor to the humbly dressed faithful who are raising their families within their means, living simple hardworking lives, eating from the earth, and giving to their neighbors.

In essence, Bishop Dlamini is also saying: Ephphatha. Be opened.

I wish Bishop Dlamini were here to speak to us. She seems to have the same strength as the Syrophoenician woman in the gospel. The bishop tells us that this assertive woman is pushing back. Combatting sexism, patriarchy, cultural barriers, xenophobia—all issues in the gospel. All issues today. What a strong woman, she says. Like the strong women who fight for the health of their children in situations of water poisoned by mining, air poisoned by coal, forests being cut down.

Christ comes among us this day. Like Marya, we may be lonely, or bored, or unhappy. We may be carrying fears about the future. Worried about the earth. Concerned about the church. Anxious about the election and the direction of our country.

Hear the voice of Christ this day. Ephphatha. Be opened. The waters of baptism wash away all distinctions. Like streams breaking forth in the desert, Christ unstops our ears, loosens our tongues for praise. Opens our hearts. Opens our minds. Opens our hands. Empowers us for good works.

A faith active in love. For the sake of the earth. For the sake of the plants and animals. For the sake of the poor and most vulnerable. For the sake of the common good. For the sake of the future. And for the sake of this table where all are fed: closed and open, poor and rich, humble and haughty. Be opened are Jesus’ words to us. Ephphatha. May it be so.