Palm Sunday 2023

 Palm Sunday Sermon

When I was growing up we read the Passion account from Matthew on the fifth Sunday of Lent, and the account of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem on the sixth sunday.  We called that sixth Sunday “Palm Sunday'' although officially it was known as the Second Sunday of the Passion.  With the publication of the Novus Ordo in 1969, the two Sundays were merged into one in the Catholic lectionary, and Catholics and other Christian denominations did the same thing with the 

Revised Common Lectionary a few years later.  That’s why you get to hear two gospels today.  

And that’s probably worth thinking about.  We start out with Jesus entering Jerusalem in a manner that reflects a prophecy, which Saint Matthew quotes for us.  And it’s obvious that Jesus engineered the whole thing.  And the crowd went along, throwing branches and clothing on the road and cheering.  This was in contrast of course, to another parade going on, the one Pilate held every Passover, when he would march into Jerusalem with his troops as a show of force reminding the crowds that if there was any hint of rebellion or unrest, bad things would happen to you.  Jesus in his parade mocks Pilate.  

Then we get to the gospel, which in this reading is also from Matthew.  Next year it will be Mark, in 2025 it will be Luke.  and we  find a very different crowd, crying out “Crucify him!”  Why did things change so quickly?  

Shusako Endo, a Japanese Christian writer famous for the novel “Silence”, wrote a book called “A life of Jesus”.  As he retells the story with which we are all so familiar, he attempts to show why Jesus’ last days on earth involved such turmoil.  As we know, when Jesus began his public ministry he attracted huge crowds.  It was a time when the Jewish people were in something of a religious revival.  You had Sadducees wanting to become integrated into the mighty Roman empire; you had Pharisees who wanted to revive and live the old Jewish traditions; you had armed rebels in the countryside who were trying to break away from Roman rule, the so-called Zealots; and everybody was wondering if this was the time when the Messiah would come, the one predicted by the prophets, the one who, if you looked at the prophecy of Daniel in the right way, should be coming along any minute now.  And whether the Messiah was a prophet, a priest or a king, everyone knew that he would turn the world upside down, and everyone hoped that he would bring about a strong independent Jewish nation where people could devote themselves to the pure worship of God.

Could Jesus be the one?  

We see this expectation as we read the gospels.  And we see Jesus slipping away from the crowds, going into hiding.  We see Jesus avoiding cities and towns as his fame became widespread.  And if you were a Jew with the hope that Jesus was the Messiah, why was he hiding, why was he crossing the lake to get away from the crowds, why just when he had them all listening to his every word, did he continue to disappoint?  Even his cousin John wondered, and from prison asked Jesus, the one he baptized, the one of whom he witnessed a voice coming out of heaven, “Are you the one who is to come or shall we look for another?”  

So imagine you are one of these people, and you’ve been alternatively thrilled and disappointed in Jesus, and now it looks like Jesus is finally  ready to act.  He comes into Jerusalem just like the prophets predicted.  Rome will be overthrown!  Israel will be restored!  And nothing happens.  In fact he’s starting to say crazy things, “Unless you eat my flesh and drink my blood you will not have life within you”.  

Then Jesus surfaces again, this time arrested by the authorities, tried and condemned to death by crucifixion.  And you are in that crowd, you want nothing more to do with this charlatan, you join the mob yelling “Crucify him!”  

On Palm Sunday, which crowd shall we join?  Or shall we be like the apostles who said, “Where shall we go, Lord, you have the words of everlasting life?”

Fifth Sunday in Lent, cycle A

John 11:1-45

Today we heard the story of the most spectacular miracle Jesus worked.  John makes sure his readers know how incredible this was.  Jesus does not arrive until four days after Lazarus had died.  It was believed that the soul stayed in the area of the body for three days, but after that, went to “Sheol” where, at least among the Jews, it was thought that the soul awaited the resurrection of the dead.  Once you were in Sheol, there was no return.  The second point, if we didn't get the first, is that Martha makes her comment, “Lord, it has been four days now, surely there will be a stench!” Resurrecting a decaying corpse when the soul is imprisoned in Sheol is beyond the capacity of any great magician or prophet or holy man.  No one but God could do what was done this day. 

But, spectacular as this miracle is, we are unfortunate in that we don't see the larger picture from hearing just this segment of the gospel.  Here are some things to consider.

First, Jesus had been living and teaching in Galilee.  It was about as far from Jerusalem as Worcester is from Springfield.  Which is a substantial distance if you have to walk.  He was relatively safe there; he was beyond the reach of the people in Jerusalem who hated him.  Jesus and his apostles all appreciated how dangerous it would be to go down to Jerusalem.  That is why we hear Thomas saying “Let us go down and die with him.”  The little town of Bethany where the miracle takes place was only two miles from the city of Jerusalem.  In order to raise Lazarus from the dead, Jesus put his own life in danger; in fact, given that he was God as well as man, he knew what would happen if he traveled to Jerusalem.  

Second, if we were to read further, we would see that not only did Jesus put his own life in danger by coming so close to Jerusalem, but by raising Lazarus in this big public event, he greatly angered the authorities. They were all very clear on the idea that Jesus had to die, or they might very well lose their power over the people.  Of course they were concerned about what Rome might do, and to be fair, many thought that Jesus was leading the people into heresy. To be on the safe side, in fact, we hear that the enemies of Jesus plotted to kill Lazarus as well, since he was living proof of Jesus' power. 

And then, after these events, Jesus enters the city of Jerusalem in style, riding on a donkey, being joyously greeted by the people, and then going on to stand judgment, be crucified, and die.

The point, of course, is not so much that Jesus proved that he was God by the miracle he performed, but rather, that he was willing to give up his own life so that Lazarus could live.  And the implication is that Jesus' love is such that he willingly trades his own life for yours, for mine, for any who are his friends, who stand condemned to die as we all do.  

Lazarus was like you and I, he was probably an ordinary person, took care of his sisters, probably worked with his hands as most did in those days.  But like you and I he was not always faithful, he never got through a day without doing something or failing to do something which if he thought about it, he would regret.  As the years went buy he continued to fail in living a life that was completely pleasing to God.  Little things, little sins, but sins against an infinitely good God.  And Lazarus was like you and I, trying to stay out of trouble, getting up each morning and resolving to do better, and going to bed at night forgiving himself for his failure to do so.  And Lazarus, like you and I, had no claim on eternal life, or even temporal life; nothing we have, nothing we could have, is our own, it is all a gift that we don't deserve.

And Jesus trades his life for Lazarus; he trades his life for yours and mine.  

When people see me in my coffin, which will be sometime between now and about 10 years from now, I don't care if they say that I was successful, or that I was kind and generous, or as my wife would probably say, that I was a grouch and cheap as well.  I do hope people will say that I was a friend of Jesus.  Because when I am helpless, when I have lost the breath of life, when I can no longer move or see or hear or touch, I pray that I will hear a voice saying, “Donald, come out of there!” And I will get to my feet and go to meet my best friend, who has already traded his life for mine.  

And perhaps that is what we should think about this fifth week in lent.  If we are friends of Jesus, the grave is not a problem.  If we are friends of Jesus, we can be confident that we will hear his command to “come out of there”.  In the story of the raising of Lazarus, we are assured that Jesus keeps the promise that God made to Ezekiel so long ago:  “i will put my spirit into you that you may live...I Have promised, and I will do it”.

Fourth Sunday in Lent, cycle A

John 9:1-41

IF you lose your eyesight because of a cataract, and get that fixed, you can see again.  If you have never seen and you get eyesight as is the case of some individuals who had congenital cataracts, the longer you have been blind, the less likely removing the cataracts will accomplish anything.  The neurologist Oliver Sacks, said that you have to die as a blind man and be reborn as a sighted man.  In other words, you have to put new software in your brain to interpret what is coming in through the eyes.  

So when you read this long story, what catches your eye? The miracle, yes, but it’s an interesting one, isn’t it?  Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead by simply calling his name and telling him to come out.  Here he makes mud from dirt and spit, and smears it into the man’s eyes.  Is that significant?  Saint Ambrose saw the significance.  God created man from mud and Jesus takes mud to repair this man.  Not a long stretch.  Maybe he had no eyes and now he has them because Jesus created them for him.  But the man’s miracle isn’t complete; he has to wash in a pool, a specific pool named “Siloam” which means “the one who is sent”.  Again another church father saw this as reminiscent of baptism, because at baptism we become members of the body of Jesus, the one who is sent.  Maybe that’s a little bigger stretch.

But then the action proceeds.  The apostles already kicked it off with their question -- “If he’s blind, who sinned, him or his parents?”  Kind of like asking “When did you stop beating your wife?” 

But think for a minute about the blind man -- he’s wandering around in a daze of happiness -- he probably has a goofy grin on his face; he’s staring at birds and flowers and people are taking notice.  They aren’t even sure it’s the same man who used to sit and beg; they have never seen that one staring at things and grinning with joy.  But he assures them that he is.  And then we begin the contact with the Pharisees.  Now you have to remember that John often uses the word “Jews” to refer to the Pharisees.  This has gotten us Christians into a lot of trouble down through the years.  I don’t know what was going on in John’s mind, but there are apostles and the parents of the man and Jesus himself standing around, all of whom are Jews.  

You know how when you are reading or watching a detective story, the detective cleverly discovers who the villain is by asking questions and following up with more questions and investigation?  If you go back and read this story, it’s like a reverse detective story.  The blind man tells everybody up front that Jesus made mud and smeared it on his eyes and he washed in the Siloam pool and could see.  And he keeps repeating that.  But the Pharisees don’t believe him.  And they keep gathering evidence.  They ask the parents, who say, “we don’t know how he gained his sight, but he’s been blind since he was born.”  Then they turn to the blind man again and point out again that Jesus is obviously a sinner, so the blind man can’t possibly be right.  And he tells them again.  And finally, because he sticks to his story, always coming back to “I was blind, and now I see” they throw him out of the synagogue.  I think John was going for a little humor here.  

But the lesson for us is clear.  Are we like the Pharisees?  Are we missing the presence of God in our midst because of our preconceptions?  I think that much of the time we do.  Part of the problem is that we don’t know what the presence of God should look like.  Or even worse, we think we know.  Look at the Pharisees in this story.  They have concluded that Jesus is a sinner because he healed on the Sabbath.  Now the Pharisees had a point.  They aren’t irrational; in the case of an emergency, Sabbath rules could be overridden.  But Jesus could have waited to work the miracle, but didn’t – so he is seen as a sinner.  A sinner cannot be a conduit for a miracle; they know God doesn’t work through sinners.  They’ve made two logical assumptions that keep them from seeing the miracle in their midst, the hand of God in the healing of the blind man.  

God is always working in our midst.  Even when bad things happen, we know that God chastises his sons and daughters with the intention of bringing them closer to himself.  So let us open our own eyes as well.  There is a wonderful exercise.  In the evening at the end of the day look back on your day just for a minute.  What happened that you did not expect to happen?  What were the consequences?  How was God involved? Because he is especially the God of surprises. 

Second Sunday of Lent, cycle A

Matthew 17:1-9

Saint Augustine, Gregory of Nyassa, and a few others in that distant age made a major effort to use Greek philosophy to understand religious ideas.  Their intentions were good; after all, they were in the midst of the conversion of the Roman world, and these were people that knew nothing about how Jesus and his disciples saw the world.  But the idea, derived from Plato, was that the soul and the body were sort of independent, and the soul was what really mattered. That idea has become ingrained in our thinking, even to this day.  But there is another current in religion which we also see in people who are mystics.  They are the ones who have visions, who see something in nature that others don’t, who seem to get outside their own bodies in ecstasy.  Saint Francis was one; Saint Faustina of the Divine Mercy was another.  And mystics abound in Eastern Christianity.  And you’ve probably had a mystical experience or two.

One of the problems with mystical experiences is that we try to explain them away.  Oh, we probably don’t try to do this with the great saints, but we certainly do when someone we know who might be a little strange has one.  We might call it schizophrenia; maybe it’s related to something weird going on in the brain.  And most of us don’t actually seek such experiences, like some of the saints did.  But we have them now and then, those moments where for a few seconds we forget about ourselves and seem to be part of something greater.  I’ve had a few out in nature.  Not all such experiences are positive.  Saint John Vianney and Saint Padre Pio had experiences of demonic forces.  But again, we explain them all away, we say, “Maybe they happen to saints but what does that have to do with me?”

Today we hear about the transfiguration, when three ordinary fishermen had a mystical experience on a mountain top.  And I think most of us would agree that this wasn’t a figment of their imagination.  For a moment they got a glimpse of a world more real than the one we live in day to day.  And it was a world where they saw Jesus as he really is -- triumphant, immortal -- God the Son.  And they saw Elijah and Moses, who in our world had been dead a long time, but in the really real world, lived on, conversing with the Son of God.  And they heard the voice of God the Father, harking back to a time when he spoke with Adam and Eve as friends do, because in the really real world, God is not hidden, God cannot be missed.

And then that glimpse of the really real, the world which is more real than our own, fades away and three ordinary fishermen are back in our world.  

And souls are not attached to bodies temporarily, and are destined to live on while the body is of no account, the body returns to dust.  We are spiritual beings who live in this world, but get glimpses of the real world, the world where Christ lives on with the Father, with Mary his mother, with all the saints.  It’s the world where there will be no barriers between people, where, as the book of Revelation tells us, God will be the light.  

Saint John Paul II in his Theology of the Body talks about what original sin accomplished.  It introduced sin into the world, sin which causes three perversions in the spiritual beings that we are.  One is that we have a desire for pleasure, physical and mental; a second is that we have a desire to possess things.  And the third is that we see ourselves as the center of our world.  And out of these perversions of our nature, come sins.  And also, they blind us to the real world, the world that the apostles got a glimpse of, the world that mystics enter into now and then, the world that all of us catch glimpses of as God draws us to himself.  

If you are doing something you love to do, such that when you are doing it you forget yourself, you are almost unaware of the passage of time, that’s a moment when you touch the world which is real.  I’ve had such moments when I’ve made a particularly difficult diagnosis; I know lawyers who have such an experience winning a complicated case.  Someone golfing, who makes a hole in one.  Saint Francis who sees the natural world as his own brothers and sisters.  Don’t reject such experiences, don’t try to explain them away;  enter into them so that you can have a glimpse of the world to which we are called, the world Jesus referred to as the Kingdom of Heaven.  And ask God to give you a tiny glimpse of that world when you are looking at the host in Holy Mass when it becomes the Body and Blood of Jesus.  

First Sunday of Lent, cycle A

Matthew 4:1 - 11

I saw a thing on Facebook that said, “How cool is that! The same God that created mountains and oceans and galaxies of stars decided the Universe needed one of you as well.”  Specialists in child development know that every baby is born with the idea that he or she is the very center of the universe.  And we don’t lose that sense.  We can bury it pretty deeply; we can try to be humble, but it’s hard wired into us.  And it was hard-wired into Jesus as well.

In today’s gospel, Jesus has just come from his baptism, where he heard the father say, “This is my beloved, in whom I am well pleased” or as another translation goes, “in whom I take delight.”  This, of course, was not the first time Jesus realized he was special.  There was that time when he remained behind in the temple to be about his Father’s business.  One of the strange paradoxes in Christianity is that each of us is beloved; each of us is so loved by the Father that if I were the only human on earth, he would still send his son to die for me if that was what it takes to get me to be united to him in heaven.  And on the other hand, we are constantly reminded that we are nothing compared to God, that even the next breath we take depends on God’s willing it.  Mary herself showed extraordinary humility in those words, “Be it done to me according to your word.”  

Now there are many interpretations of the temptations that Christ faced in the desert.  One is that Jesus succeeds where Israel failed.  The Israelites, faced with the prospect of starvation, wanted to return to Egypt, not once but twice Jesus turned to the Father to take care of his needs.  The Israelites will over and over again need rescuing by God; Jesus refuses to put God to the test; and the Israelites will worship the golden calf and other idols; Jesus refuses to worship Satan.  Jesus succeeds where Israel failed. 

But there is another way of looking at these temptations, maybe closer to home.  Jesus knows he is the beloved Son.  Satan tempts him in the other direction.  

Jesus has been fasting forty days and forty nights, like Moses before he received the ten commandments.  And it says, “he was hungry”.  Surely an understatement – but when you are physically weakened you are vulnerable. Satan says, “If you are the Son of God, turn these stones into bread.” Satan in effect says, “If you believe you are God’s beloved, why is your life so empty?”  And Jesus replies, “Man does not live by bread alone…” in effect, “I can be beloved whether I’m full or empty!”

Then the devil takes Jesus to a tower and says, “If you are God’s son, throw yourself down, because it says in the bible God will command his angels to rescue you.”  In other words, “if you are God’s beloved, prove that you are special.” And Jesus replies, “You shall not put the Lord your God to the test.”  In other words, “I don’t need proof.  I’ll take the elevator like everyone else.”

Finally the devil says, “All these kingdoms I will give you, if you fall down and worship me.”  In other words, “If you are God’s beloved, how come you are a big nobody? Where’s your power, where’s your wealth, like people who really are somebody?”  And Jesus replies, “The Lord your God you will worship, and Him alone will you serve.”  In other words, “I can be a nobody and still be God’s blessed one.  Being Blessed doesn’t depend on fame or power.”

You and I are born with the inner feeling that we are special. All you need to know that is to hang around with a small child from a normal family.  Or a teenager, preferably well-adjusted.  The feeling of being special, of being God’s beloved, gets trampled on by things that happen to us.  We all reach a point where we fail at something.  My family makes a trip to the ocean once a year.  Every year I look forward to swimming in the surf.  This last year, probably because of age and diminished reflexes, I got knocked over a few times by the waves.  I failed at something I could always do before.  I look around and one hand I see that I have really been blessed.  ON the other hand, I see people whom I judge to have been more blessed than me. Joan and I raised six children; we love them and are proud of them, but like any parent, there were times when we wished they had made different choices here and there – not that they didn’t make the right choices for themselves. But being human, we thought we knew better at the time.  It’s like that news article in the Babylon Bee titled, “Man just doesn't understand how an infinitely wise God could have a different opinion than his sometimes.”  

And so on this first Sunday of Lent, we remember that Jesus is the new Israel, the one who succeeds when humanity up until then has failed; but we also remember that we are beloved, God is crazy in love with you, with me, and nothing that happens or doesn’t happen can change that fact. 

Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time, cycle A

 Matthew 5:38 - 48

Once a year or so my wife gets the piano tuned. We have an elderly piano tuner who apparently is the last of his breed; but he goes all over western New England to tune pianos. He has some equipment -- a couple of tuning forks and a little hammer -- but mostly he has remarkable hearing -- or perhaps it’s just well-trained. So he tunes middle C to his tuning fork, and when the two are so close that you can’t tell them apart, he mutters, “perfect”. And he goes on to tune all 88 keys, based on harmonics. It’s a real art and interesting to watch, although he takes a lot longer to tune the piano than I have patience to observe. But perfect, for him, is when the keys on the piano are sounding exactly what they should sound like.

Last Sunday you may remember that Jesus told his disciples that he did not come to abolish the law, but to fulfill it, and that heaven and earth would pass away before even the smallest part of the law did. He then went on to give some examples of how a person was to fulfill the law. Jesus sets forth what the common understanding of the law is -- “you have heard it said, you shall not kill” and then gives his take “but I say to you if you are angry with your brother, you will be liable to judgment. And you have heard it said “you shall not commit adultery, but I say to you whoever looks at a woman with lust in his heart commits adultery with her,”. And Jesus gives reasons for his new interpretation -- anything is better than the consequences of breaking the law he lays down -- because that’s Gehenna, that’s hell.

Jesus continues today in that same vein. “You have heard it said, ‘an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth’”. Now that’s not a Jewish commandment, but it’s in the code of Hammurabi, a Babylonian king who drew up the first set of laws. And it’s a good description of our human nature -- if someone does something to us, we aren’t happy till the same thing happens to that person. And the same is true of the other statement “You have heard it said, ‘you shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy'’”. The second part isn’t in the bible. But it was a pretty common understanding at that time -- and perhaps continues to be so in our time.

But Jesus’ take on these bits of folk wisdom are just as profound as his take on the two commandments we heard about last week. “Offer no resistance to evil” he says. ‘If someone strikes you on the right cheek, offer him your left.” “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you”. And then Jesus gives us the reason -- “so that you may be children of your heavenly Father.” And then we hear those words, “Be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect.” And that’s where we throw up our hands and say, “You can’t mean all those things, Jesus! You are just exaggerating, right?”

But I don’t think Jesus is exaggerating. He wouldn’t give us impossible tasks. And we are, after all, made in the image and likeness of God. And that implies that being “god-like” is within the realm of our capabilities. And the way God does things is right there before us -- Jesus shows us the way. God doesn’t give his gifts based upon whether one is good or evil. And if you need more detail, Jesus demonstrates the way God is in his life, but especially in his passion, death and resurrection.

So Jesus wants us to embrace the fact that we are children of our heavenly Father made in his image. And because of original sin, we can’t help but be enticed by sin. Like Eve, we see the fruit on the tree and think to ourselves how good that looks, I wonder what it would taste like? What harm could taking a little bite do?” And those are the moments when we listen for whether our planned behavior will be in tune with what God would do. And if we are out of tune, we’ll know it. That’s what the Holy Spirit is all about, that’s what an informed conscience does. And when we are in tune with what God would do, and we sense that we are in harmony with him, then we can say, with our elderly piano tuner, “That’s perfect”.

So as we begin Lent this coming week, I hope we will make it a point to look at our lives carefully. And I don’t mean those things that happen now and then, things that we often end up confessing in the sacrament of reconciliation. I mean those things we do out of habit, out of reflex, those moments when we feel we’ve been taken advantage of, those moments when we feel disrespected. Do we hold a grudge against somebody? Do we tend to take advantage of someone’s good nature -- usually a family member? As we look through those moments that happen every day, are they in harmony with the way God acts? And if our action is not in harmony, that would be a good thing to try to change during lent.

Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time, cycle A

 Matthew 5:17 - 37

Have you ever had an “aha” moment?  Most of us have had a few.  An aha moment is when something you did not understand suddenly becomes clear.  They aren’t too common, if my experience is normal.  I remember one such moment in one of my college philosophy courses.  My professor kept talking about matter and form and of course I understood the world in terms of atoms and molecules.  I was a scientist, after all.  But suddenly it became clear to me what he was talking about, and since then philosophy isn’t that hard to understand.  I’ve seen a couple of my kids through those moments as well.  I seem to recall them happening with algebra homework, or in one case, trigonometry.  That’s what is going on today in our gospel -- Jesus is encouraging us to have “aha” moments.  

The people of Jesus’ time had a bunch of laws.  They were good laws -- Moses in his last speech talked about  the laws of the Jewish people and how all other countries would envy them for their laws.  The laws of course started with the ten commandments and then numerous other laws detailing what to do in different situations.  The Jewish people of Jesus’ time and ours really wanted to live their lives pleasing God.  A rabbi is not the same thing as a priest or minister.  Rabbis primarily are people who you go to when you want to make sure something you are about to do is compatible with God’s law.  The Pharisees were experts at that and in Jesus' time there were something like 630 laws that had been derived from studying the first five books of the bible -- called Torah, which means Law, in Hebrew.  

Jesus, remember, is the fulfillment of Israel’s history.  He is the Son of God who becomes human, and carries out the Father’s will perfectly.  Because he does that, the Father accepts as sons and daughters those of us who become his disciples, who try to apply his teaching, who accept his mercy, who eat his body and blood.  So Jesus is showing us how to live the law.  He is fulfilling the law, telling us how to carry it out perfectly. 

It makes sense that you shall not kill.  It would be hard to live in a society where killing was condoned as a way to settle grievances, or get something you wanted.  And if you want to control a society, you restrict the ability of citizens to kill.  But Jesus is pointing us to a deeper understanding of this law.  It’s not there to keep people from killing each other, primarily; rather it’s there to point us in the direction of being the way we were meant to be -- human beings in Christ’s mold.  If we are angry, or distance ourselves from each other by looking down on them, we are going in the opposite direction.  That’s why reconciliation with my brother or sister is more important than paying my respects to God.  If I’m not reconciled with my neighbor, I’m going in the opposite direction, away from putting on Christ, as Saint Paul puts it.

The same is true regarding adultery.  The purpose of marriage is that a man and a woman become “one flesh” -- and that doesn’t just apply to our romantic lives.  Before original sin came along, and people were the way God meant them to be, Adam and Eve were in no way objects to the other.  John Paul II spends a lot of time talking about the big change that took place with original sin.  Before the sin, it says about our first parents, “They were naked but not ashamed”.  They did not see each other as objects to be possessed, or as means to satisfy an appetite.  And after the fall, God asks Adam why he was hiding, and he replies, “I hid from you because I was naked.”  Adam in his nakedness is now ashamed, ashamed of his sin, ashamed that God sees right through him as it were.  Now being naked always carries the risk of shame, of being an object to someone.  And of course looking at anyone, even your husband or wife, with lust breaks down that spousal relationship you are supposed to have.  

You can see how this sort of thinking applies to divorce as well.  Adultery is first of all dishonoring what marriage is supposed to be all about -- perfecting that relationship God intended.

In Jesus’ time people would make promises and to show how sincere they were, would back up their promises with an oath -- “If I don’t do what I promised, may God make me blind”, something like that.  You may remember Jephtha, one of the judges of Israel, who swore that if he was given victory over his enemies, he would offer in sacrifice the first person who came out to greet him when he returned.  It turned out to be his daughter, and he did.

Jesus is saying that we should live so that everyone will know that whatever we say is the truth.  My word should be as good as the strongest oath.  That’s the way things were supposed to be; that’s the way Jesus lived.  

So today let us look for those ‘aha’ moments -- the Holy Spirit is always there to show us not only what is right and wrong, but to lead us to become more like Christ, the perfect human being who invites us to be perfect as well.