What Am I Doing?

Romans 7:15-25a

Matthew 11:28-30

Have you ever asked yourself, “What am I doing?” Sometimes it’s simply a statement of forgetfulness, you walk into a room and forget what you came in there for. “Huh…what am I doing here, again?” Sometimes it’s a statement of surprise or joy as you find yourself doing something new and unexpected: a first day at school or college, applying for a new job, a first kiss. “Wow, what am I doing?! Is this really happening?” Sometimes it’s a statement of anguish and disgust as you catch yourself in the middle of saying something or doing something that goes against who you thought you were or what you claimed to believe. “Omigosh!! What am I doing?”

Perhaps more often you find yourself reflecting back on a choice or decision you made in the past, wishing you could take it back, wishing you had thought it through a little more. “What have I done?” Hindsight is 20/20, so they say. It’s often hard to realize, or to anticipate, the impact of our actions in the moment. It’s amazing how so many of the mistakes we make feel so right at the time. If only good intentions could guarantee good outcomes.

Pre-conversion Paul, or Saul, had nothing but good intentions. As a devout Pharisee, he did all that the law required. Saul devotedly adhered to the letter of God’s law—a law that sought to unleash the purposes of God throughout creation. When Saul rejected Christ and persecuted those who followed and promoted his teachings, he truly believed he was protecting these purposes and doing what was good. Though it’s written in the present tense, the text from Romans 7 is a reflection from the perspective of post-conversion Paul, the Christian, on the behaviors of pre-conversion Saul, the Pharisee. “The situation Paul faced prior to his conversion was that he knew the law embodied God’s will, and he knew God’s will was good and he wanted to do it, and he tried to do it by following the law.”[1]

I led a Bible study out at camp this week during a rain storm. I hadn’t brought my Bible with me because I hadn’t wanted it to get soaked. I reminded the campers, however, that most Bible studies, or teachings of the Torah, were “Bible-less” back in Paul’s and Jesus’ time. Collections of the Torah scrolls were few and far between, expensive to procure, and cumbersome to carry. Rabbis, instead, memorized the scriptures. All of them. Word-for-word. They carried the word of God with them, in their heads, as they traveled from town to town, teaching and preaching and interpreting the texts for their listeners, many of whom had no access to the scrolls, much less the ability to read or write.

Having the entirety of the Scriptures memorized and committed to mind gave rabbis unique access the wisdom therein contained. Still to this day, we have yet to create a computer capable of doing what the human mind can do. This access and ability empowered rabbis to evaluate the texts as a whole, to look at the overarching purposes of God, and to provide an interpretation of God’s laws. This interpretation was known as that rabbi’s “yoke of the Torah.”

Every Rabbi, every community, every teacher of the Torah had a slightly different yoke. As a Pharisee, Saul adhered to a particular yoke of the Torah that informed his words and guided his actions. Paul now painfully reflects on that yoke, asking “What have I done?” “Reflecting from his present Christian perspective on his life as a Pharisitic rejecter of Christ, Paul can see that while as a Pharisee he wanted to do the good (i.e., follow God’s will), his devotion to [his particular yoke of] the law led him to do just the opposite of that, since his [yoke] led him to oppose God’s will in Christ.” [2]

Speaking of Christ Jesus, he also had a particular yoke, an interpretation of God’s word and will that he carried with him and taught to his followers. We go so far as to say that Christ not only had the word (lowercase “w”) of God memorized, but that he was the Word (capital “W”) of God. Jesus not only offered an interpretation of God’s word, but he was the incarnation of it—God’s Word made flesh!

“Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me” Jesus tells us, “it is an easy yoke, and a light burden.” To take on a yoke, to become a disciple, came with the “burden” of becoming like your rabbi: following their every move, listening to their every word, modeling your life after theirs. Think on that. “Take my yoke upon you,” is another way of saying “Follow me. Become like me.” A rabbi, however, didn’t make this invitation willy-nilly. This was an invitation extended only to the best and brightest students of Torah, those whom the rabbi thought could actually fulfill the demands of the invitation. And Jesus makes this invitation to fishermen, to tax collectors, to Pharisees, to sinners, to us. To you. Do you get what this means? Jesus believes that we can actually follow him. Live like he did. Love like he did.

For Paul, however, we can see that this yoke, this invitation, brought on a dilemma. The dilemma of hindsight. “What have I done?” To follow Christ through the Gospels, to watch as he interacts with sinners, slaves, men, women, children, the sick, the outcast, the reviled, the prisoners, and the vulnerable is going to invite us to reflect on how we deal with these people, how we treat the “least of these”, how our interpretation of the “law” leads us to behave toward others. The story of Saul’s conversion is literally a story of his eyes being opened from blindness. Paul sees, and immediately regrets, what he has done.

Fortunately for us, that regret is cushioned by God’s grace. But it is not removed. While I teach that the practice of confession is not a practice of guilt or shame, I do not promise that it is a painless practice. Hindsight can hurt. As Paul might put it, it is the sting of sin—a sting that strikes as we swat sin away. Sometimes the question “What have I done?” is accompanied with, “Ow!”

There is, in the works, a law which would reward the wealthy and burden the vulnerable, the sick, the elderly, the poor. I have no doubt that those promoting the plan believe they are doing what is right and good, based on their interpretation of the “law.” But this interpretation of “what is right” will remove rights from women, imprison the poor in deeper poverty, punish the sick for pre-existing conditions, cut care and support for the elderly, defund Medicaid support for the disabled and those suffering from mental illness. It does offer over half-a-trillion dollars in tax cuts to the wealthy, those making upwards of $200,000 a year and more. Maybe that’s what’s “great” about it. How would Jesus’ yoke lead us to think about this, though? I seem to remember him telling his disciples that “whoever wants to be great must be a servant of all.” Does this plan really serve all of us?

Now would be one of those moments of surprise, where I find myself asking, “What am I doing?” Am I really bringing such a partisan issue to the pulpit? I might regret this. I know this is a tricky subject, one on which our nation is tremendously divided. There are many interpretations of this “Health Care Plan”, each news network has its own “yoke”, so to speak. There are many interpretations of the potential impact it will have on our society and our economy. But I’ve found that the interpretations of the plan which call it “good” or “better” have a hard time offering concrete examples of just how it is good. I can assure you that I do not bring this issue to the pulpit with any political agenda in tow, but with concern and compassion for the vulnerable and voiceless. The only interpretation that I am really concerned with this morning is how Jesus might interpret this plan for so-called “care.” I don’t want us to put ourselves in the painful position of Paul, looking back and asking “What have I done?” So I urge us, as disciples of Christ, as followers of the one who brought good news to the poor, release to the captives, and healing to the sick, to ask ourselves, “Who am I following? Who am I serving? What am I doing?”

[1] Actemeier, Paul. Romans from “Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching”

[2] Ibid.