The Old Armor

Elizabeth M. Hoster
Proper 17 Year B
September 3, 2006
Ephesians 6:10-20 &Mark 7:1-23

Focus: The armor of God has nothing to do with defending . The armor of God replaces the wrong ways we defend ourselves. Being strong in the lord means not buying in to what is seen as strong in this world.

            Well, I have done it again.

            Earlier this week I received a forwarded e-mail from my dad.  Now, my dad and I have rather different political persuasions, and usually if a forwarded e-mail looks like it is political, I read his message, then delete it without reading the attachment. This time I read the whole thing–attachment and all.  At the end was some reminiscing about the “good old days when women could stay at home and raise the kids.”

            I went up like a rocket! Typing fiendishly, I fired back, “Don't ever, EVER send me a message that ends with espousing the virtue of mom staying home to raise the kids. We've worked too hard to make sure women have other choices!!”  I hit the reply button–bam! And that was the end of that.

            And it was the end of that--until early this morning, when I checked my e-mail before polishing up the sermon. My brother–who had received a copy of the whole exchange, typed back, “Um, um, who are you--and what have you done with my sister?”

            He proceeded to explain the email to me: “Read it again. He was trying to make a point about finances–how did we get to where it is nearly impossible to raise a family on one income. It wasn’t about the sexes! It was about economics!”

            Indeed, it is what comes out of us that defiles us.
 
            I had taken a bit of truth–women have worked hard to assure there are choices–and instead of using it as a tool for a good discussion with my male relatives, I put on my old, old armor, made sure I was heavily defended, and then started swinging my mace.

            The old armor -– we all have some, don’t we?

            You know what your armor is.  Pride. Envy. Slander. Defensiveness. It is the old armor––the armor of this world, the armor that protects you, the armor that protects me –protects me from other people, and protects me from God–from a real experience of God.

            It is this armor that then justifies my using some weapon against my neighbor.

            The Gospel today is about getting rid of that armor, so that we are not tempted to take the tools God has given us and turn them into weapons.  Jesus is not putting down what the   Pharisees are doing, but how it has been twisted. Originally, all that washing was a tool for hygiene.  It was also a tool to remind them that they were separate from their neighbors in the God that they served.  How they interpreted it onto others, and how they used it as a weapon, was wrong.   Anytime we take something God has given us to keep us healthy and use it to castigate others, we commit the same sin.

            And here is Jesus, telling me to lay it down. Lay down my armor, lay down my weapons. But what am I trading it in for?  How am I to defend myself NOW?

            We see the answer in Ephesians. The writer tells us to put on this armor of God. Before, I had always read this as some kind of super-armor, God-made, bulletproof, demon-proof stuff. But that’s not what this armor is for.

We are not to take this incredibly defensive, hyper-anxious stance in the world.  Yes, powers of darkness do exist. They feed off of our anxiety. But we cannot always anxiously be looking over our shoulders when Christ bids us to preach the Gospel of PEACE.

            This new armor, given to us by God, looks like it will make us pretty darned naked. Listen to what it is made of:

Truth.
Faith.
Peace.
Salvation.
Spirit.

            All things that make us so vulnerable to God–and to each other!

            God gives us this new armor, this non-armor, so that we have the courage and resources to stand still.  That’s right, stand still. Stand, running neither this way nor that, calm among all of the chaos. God gives us these gifts to be a still point, a point of peace for the world.

            If these lessons mean anything in our lives, we must recognize the violence in our own hearts. To stop the violence without, we first need to stop the violence within.

            (One American theologian was asked why he was a pacifist. "Because," he said, "in my heart of hearts, I am the most violent person I know.)

            How do we stop that violence? One way is to pray. Pray so that the violence may stop.

            Many of us are taking part in ongoing practice of centering prayer––and all of you are invited to participate still. It is a practice to simply be still before God. With it, the old armor begins to melt, little by little. A new armor of God’s peace emerges, like a new skin.

            When we compared notes last week, one person replied, "I do see a change. I’m not upset like I used to be. I’m not yelling at my kids so much!"  The old armor is beginning to fall by the wayside. And that new armor of God is emerging like new skin, vibrant and full of color.

            Praying first centers us with God, gives us time to find God in the chaos we have created, and slows us down enough so that we may act only after listening for Christ’s loving response.
 
           Violence begins with us. It can also end with us. But it ends with nothing less than turning our lives over to one greater than any of us.

           So today, I encourage you to take off the old armor. Just lay it down.  Try this new armor. It’s much lighter than the old stuff we’ve all been wearing.  Recognize that peace of God, which passes all understanding, is the only armor you will every need. It’s the only armor that is of any earthly , or heavenly–use.