Texts: Psalm 27; Matthew 4: 12-25

Thursday morning is DV day in the Somerset County Courthouse: the day when victims of domestic violence come to court and get or try to get the TROs -- temporary restraining orders -- converted into final restraining orders; FROs in our legal jargon. The judge on these matters, the Hon. Julie M. Marino, sits and listens to people who are explaining how their hopes, their dreams, even their lives, have fallen apart. She’s been doing this since 2003 when she was first nominated to the bench. Superior Court judges are first nominated for seven year terms, then, depending on a variety of factors, such as demeanor, comments from the bar, and the Governor, may be renominated for a lifetime tenure position. Lifetime tenure is a major guarantee of an independent judiciary, free from political influence. And that’s an important issue in any court.

Judge Marino, quite frankly, has the patience of a saint. As I sit and listen and wait my turn, I have to admit that I sometimes wonder what on earth ever brought certain people into relationships to begin with. Restraining orders are not only just between cohabiting couples, of course, but also between parent and child because of abusive behavior. I often find myself wondering what led to these terrible situations.

Worried plaintiffs seeking the orders are pitted against defendants who argue that they do not deserve this indignity. Lawyers sometimes in pretty expensive outfits -- not everyone who seeks a restraining order is poor -- try to work out deals, and advocates from the Resource Center who serve unrepresented persons, mainly women, discuss options to help them to determine whether they really want to withdraw that initial order.

The plaintiffs are usually women and in seeking these orders are in the process of changing the direction of their lives. It isn’t easy for most because, as the song says, breaking up is hard to do. It takes an enormous toll, economically, socially, spiritually. Often, because the initial order prevents the abuser from contacting the victim, family members will put pressure on victims to relent, go back, think of the children, and the hundred other reasons why logically a victim should not continue with the complaint. I’ve seen priests and preachers interpose themselves in these situations, children and social ostracism used as bargaining chips, and even the immediate family members of the victim asked to step in to make the victim “more reasonable.” And, time and again, I’ve seen victims, again, mainly women, withdraw their applications because they cannot make it on their own financially or they have been convinced that Mr. Wonderful will really change this time. Right, I think, he’ll only beat you when you’ve made him mad.

Changing direction, changing lives is not easy. It’s the hardest thing any of us have to do. How do we move ourselves to change even in the slightest? We all have old habits that are hard to break, whether it’s leaving a trail of coffee cups or socks. When Bob was alive, I knew where he had been in the house because of coffee cups and books left here and there. I seem to have acquired his old habit My mother used to complain that no matter what my father could not seem to pick up his socks and put them in the hamper. But changing direction is more than breaking old habits. It entails a new way of thinking about ourselves, a new way of being.

Each of us has an image of ourselves, either a so-called realistic one of who we are now replete with all the limitations we impose on ourselves or we have a hope-filled one equally just as replete but with all the possibilities we could, indeed, can, have for ourselves. Now, hope-filled possibilities, have certain limitations, to be sure; some might say they have realistic limitations. But who is to determine what is realistic? Each of us has been told at one point in our lives that what we dream of, hope for, aspire to, is not realistic. Who is it that determines this so-called realism and who is it that is able to tell us what is most “realistic” for our lies? Certainly not the nay-sayers.

There is, of course, a whole industry of change out there. Go to any bookstore and you’ll see the exponential growth in self-help books. Or, for those of you who do all your reading on a book substitute called the internet, check it out. You can pick from over 8 million websites according to Google, everything from how to use Scripture to witchcraft. I kid you not.

Changing direction is sometimes imperceptible, sometimes dramatic but each one of us has the power to make some change of direction in our lives. The question is what or who should motivate us. For those probably illiterate fishermen, Andrew and Peter, James and John, it was the charisma that Jesus had when he said, “Follow me.” Now, I’m going to suggest that the Gospel story leaves out a few details, such as the families asking these four men what on earth they thought they were doing to leave their work, their families, their lives as they had lived them to follow some itinerant preacher who would get everyone killed. The point of the Gospel is to call us to discipleship without question, to demand from us the same immediacy of response that the four purportedly gave. Don’t forget, the Gospels are not history in our modern sense of the word but works of advocacy and persuasion. They were written to tell us how to respond to the call of discipleship and what the cost of discipleship will be.

The Gospels also offer us the hope of possibility. Both the canonical and non-canonical Gospels point to something beyond ourselves, to truths about our relationship with God and with each other. The parables are stories that tell us eternal verities, some of which we’d rather not admit because they place demands on us, some of which we’d rather not accept. The writer here is telling us that we can change direction, that we do not need to always be in the same rut. We may need help in getting us out of the rut; that’s one of the reasons we form in communities of like-minded people. Ours is called a church, a community of faith that helps us to be faithful to the call we hear to follow the call that Jesus of Nazareth issued so long ago.

We love and support each other in this community. We accept each other for who we are and accept our individual and common search for truths that enable us to move beyond our preoccupations with the little yet sometimes important things of life. We do not have to make earth-shattering decisions for change in our lives. Little changes also matter and little by little those changes add up to larger ones. This also applies to our church, which has experienced a host of small changes over the last few years resulting in something larger. For example, Riotous Readers is more than a book club; it has become a venue for examining our understanding of faith through the lens of various authors who have had something to say about humor, fantasy, life, death, war, and even food.

Changing direction is really difficult, but we can make change in our lives with God’s grace. What does that mean? It doesn’t mean waiting for some magic to strike; rather, it means, as was once said, being nursemaids to the plight of others. In other words, grace is a freely given gift we share with each other because we all possess a spark of the Divine, the Holy, within us. With that spark we can change direction and help others do the same binding us all into a community that loves and cares for each other.

Let us pray: Holy Origin of change, help us to listen and care for each other as we respond to your call to care for others. Amen.