Many times when teaching people the practice of lectio divina (meditatively praying with scripture), I have quipped, “Start with the Psalms or maybe one of the gospels. You probably want to stay away from Leviticus.” By the comment I meant to suggest that not all scripture is equal when it comes to lectio, that some books and genres in the bible are more conducive than others to this type of practice. Leviticus, a book largely lacking in narrative and devoted to archaic sacrificial and ritual laws, is low on the list of scriptural texts suited for contemplative prayer.
And yet. In the first sentence of today’s first reading, we have not only the core theme of the book, but also the focus of our spiritual formation community. As it appears in today’s text: “Be holy, for I, the Lord your God, am holy” (Lev. 19:2) YEAR B. For nine years we have gathered monthly to commit ourselves to ponder and discover together what it means to be human and holy and then to encourage each other to live what we discover.
In an effort to emphasize salvation by grace rather than by observance of the law (and laws), many self-identified Christians have too easily and ironically fallen into the trap of focusing more on beliefs than behavior. It is more important to believe (or pronounce) “Jesus is my personal Lord and Savior” than to behave justly and act intentionally in ways that enhance the well-being of our neighbors. Today’s reading emphasizes the intimate and necessary connection between holiness and humanness by maintaining that the fullness of each is played out in just relationship with our neighbors: you must not steal from or defraud your neighbor, withhold the laborer’s pay, put an obstacle in a blind person’s way, render unjust judgments, show favoritism to either the poor or the rich, slander or threaten the life of your neighbor, bear a grudge, hate, or be vengeful toward anyone, but instead you are to “love your neighbor as yourself.” We would go a long way toward a worthy description of holiness by simply reversing the inhumane treatment directed toward the neighbor as listed above. The holy ones are always the most genuinely and fully human and the most intensely alive to the aliveness of God. They express this vitality not in some pie in the sky faux religiosity but in and through regular human encounters everyday: in acts of honesty, decency, fairness, kindness, justice, integrity, reverence, nonviolence, mercy, and love.
What we believe is legitimated by what we live, not by what we say. If we believe in the grace of God who calls us to life, who calls us to be agents of kindness, care, and well-being in our communities and world, and who calls us to be holy, then our response will be one of love-in-action, peace-in-practice, and justice-in-motion. If not, our belief is not really in God but in “cheap grace” and our beliefs are rendered null and void. A creed without the deed is a creed in need. The holy deed is always the best creed because “acts of goodness reflect the hidden light of [God’s] holiness. . . .It is within our power to mirror [God’s] unending love in deeds of kindness, like brooks that hold the sky” (Heschel).
The holiest deeds are often the smallest gesture done with the fullest heart.♦
Pax,
djm