Proper 8.C.25
Galatians 5:1, 13-25
Melanie L. McCarley
When I was a child, the beginning of summer heralded a glorious expanse of freedom. No assignments, no papers, no tests, no homework! No having to get up at the crack of dawn—just freedom. In my mind, it was the opportunity to do exactly what I wanted. I could spend the afternoon lying in the grass, reading a book, swimming at the local pool…or doing nothing at all.
But now that I am older, I can be honest, and tell you that by the end of the summer—after several weeks of lolling around, my parents weren’t hearing about how much I was enjoying my freedom. They were listening to how bored I was. By the end of the summer, the return to the rigors of a schedule with new things to learn, new challenges ahead was both exciting, and (dare I say) refreshing. Turns out, an endless summer wasn’t really what I wanted, after all.
All of which brings us to St. Paul and his letter to the people of Galatia. He writes: “For you were called to freedom, brothers and sisters; only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for self-indulgence, but through love become slaves to one another.” For Paul, true freedom doesn’t mean unbridled license (the chance to do whatever it is you want to do, whenever you want to do it). Instead, the freedom which Paul advocates is the freedom to love, to serve one’s neighbor responsibly, seeking the good of the whole community. It is the freedom to choose to subject oneself to following Christ.
For Paul, mastery of the Spirit entails cultivating the fruits of the spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Freedom in Christ is freedom to live fully into the commandment: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” To live freely as Christ intends—means that we must also choose to live with restraint—placing limits upon ourselves for the good of all and the world in which we live.
Which brings me, on this week in which we celebrate the Independence of our Nation, to General George C. Marshall. Lance Morrow, writing in Smithsonian magazine in 1997 states: “We are just now celebrating the 50th anniversary of the day when Marshall stood under the elms at a Harvard commencement and called for an economic-aid plan to help the Old World, reduced to rubble by World War II, pull itself up by its own bootstraps with some 13 billion in incentives from Uncle Sam. That was the birth of the Marshall Plan, then-Secretary-of-State Marshall’s farsighted contribution to peace and postwar political stability; he not only thought it up but was the man whose statue and probity helped get Congressional approval for it all….A brilliant military strategist, Marshall became “the first genius of bureaucratic warfare, (as Morrow puts it) a Napoleon riding a desk.” He also became a paradigm of a certain American virtue, now all but extinct.” Marshall personified the virtues of faith, hope, prudent temperance, courage, humility patience and justice. Winston Churchill designated him the “organizer of victory” in World War II. When he received his honorary degree from Harvard the citation referred to him as “a soldier and statesman whose ability and character brook only one comparison in the history of the nation: that is, to George Washington.”
Where did these virtues arise? David Hein, in his book Teaching the Virtues writes: Consider that one of the mediating institutions that most affected Marshall was his home parish, St. Peter’s Episcopal Church in Uniontown, Pennsylvania, where he was baptized at six months of age. The Rev. John R. Wightman, the young rector of St. Peter’s, made a lasting impression on the future general. Marshall recalled him in a letter that he wrote during the Second World War, on August 6, 1943: “Mr. Wightman exercised a profound influence on my character and life. While I was a mere boy in my early teens he honored me with his friendship. We often took walks in the country together, and I spent many hours with him at the Parish House, which had just been constructed.”
Confirmed at St. Peter’s at the age of 16, Marshall continued for the rest of his life in the way he had been brought up. Throughout his notable career, Marshall regularly attended church services, and he always tried to build up the churches he attended—both the physical structures as well as attendance at worship, on the posts to which he was assigned. He ended his days as a faithful communicant of St. James Episcopal Church in Leesburg, Virginia (where he also served on the vestry).
Former secretary of state Dean Acheson called Marshall the “least militant of soldiers.” Indeed, Marshall would have prayed the Collect for Peace, in the Order for Daily Morning Prayer, with complete understanding and in a spirit of heart-felt approbation: O God, who art the author of peace and lover of concord, in knowledge of whom standeth our eternal life, in whose service is perfect freedom; Defend us thy humble servants in all assaults of our enemies; that we, surely trusting in thy defense, may not fear the power of any adversaries, through the might of Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. The phrase “whose service is perfect freedom” is worth considering. It comes directly from St. Paul, in his letter from Galatians, who reminds us that the decision to follow Christ is itself liberating. Freedom does not conflict with true authority, which comes from God.
George Marshall got it right. His piety focused first on God as the supreme center of value, then on country and family. From George Washington and undoubtedly from other sources and experience he learned and took to heart the virtue of duty—answering without wavering when duty called—so that, even when he would have preferred to retire from public life, he still said “yes” to his nation’s summons. This sense of responsibility—doing what he knew he ought to do, rather than what he would have liked to do—became second nature to him.
Self-restraint isn’t a popular virtue, (certainly not today) but it’s well worth championing. Edmund Burke, in a letter to a member of the French National Assembly in 1791 (toward the beginning of the French Revolution) wrote: “men of intemperate minds cannot be free,” (for) “their passions forge their fetters.”
This week we celebrate freedom. From the perspective of the Church freedom isn’t the chance to do whatever we want, whenever we want. St. Paul reminds us that true freedom involves the consent of the heart and mind to follow Christ—in his words, to be a slave of Christ. The goal isn’t individual gain either for oneself or solely for one’s country (for that is simply selfishness); but gain for everyone; so that we might love our neighbors as ourselves.” Now, that is good advice for Christian’s, certainly, but, if you think about it, if lived into, it is Good News for the entire world. In Jesus’ name. Amen.