Friday, April 18, 2014

Good Friday Sermon: Violence and the Cross



Good Friday
In 1993 a Neurologist named Oliver Sacks wrote a paper called “To see or not to see”.  In this paper he discussed the issues that arose for a blind man named Virgil, who regained his sight as an adult after being blind almost his entire life.   When he was blind, Virgil’s world had very specific boundaries to it.  Everything he knew in any given moment was defined by what he could touch and by what he could hear.  Now when we imagine someone blind regaining their sight, we imagine it is a simple matter, like opening our eyes and letting the light in.  But it so much more complicated than that.  Sight is something we learn.  When Virgil was given sight, his world which had once been so small, so manageable, became incomprehensible to him.  He saw everything as confusing patches of color, and simple objects that we take for granted he could not identify.  Virgil described some of his experiences saying “During these first weeks [after surgery] I had no appreciation of depth or distance; street lights were luminous stains stuck to the window panes, and the corridors of the hospital were black holes.”[1]  He had no depth perception and was confused by shadows.  Again and again he would examine something in great detail, only to later not be able to identify it without touching it. For those of us who have had sight since birth we might find Virgil's struggles difficult to imagine because what he was experiencing as an adult we all went through as infants. 

Dionysius wrote that God shines in our lives ‘a ray of darkness’.  This of course is a paradoxical statement, after all, Jesus is the ‘light of the world’.  A light that cuts through our darkness, interrupting and disrupting our status quo, but the light that God shines on us in the person of Jesus Christ is not a convenient light that clears up all messes and smooths over all difficulties.[2]  Quite the opposite is true actually, the light of Christ is one that turns what we think we know on its head, the light shines in the darkness and suddenly everything is confusing, because what becomes clear is that everything that we thought we knew, about ourselves, everything that we ever took for granted about the world, we didn’t know at all.  When God’s light shines in our lives, what we are quick to know is that we don’t actually know, and never really did.

So often when I attempt to ponder God I suddenly realize that I have been like a blind person and when I am made to see, I do not know or even understand what I am seeing, my world becomes only unidentifiable shapes and confusing blotches of color.  And though I may examine an aspect of God and think I understand, I quickly learn that I didn’t grasp it all, and have to try again to comprehend what is being revealed to me.

Jesus crucified is at the center of this strange, seemingly incomprehensible light of God.  Christ is the very ray of darkness that comes into our lives and turns it all on its head.  Again and again I go back to the cross, examining it, trying to understand and I think I do, until I don’t again.

Everyday in Christianity, but particularly today, we are made to realize how complicated and difficult our faith really is.  In the cross we are faced with the mystery and paradox of God’s action in the world and our instinct is to simplify it, to make it easy by untying the complicated knot of the paradox and turning it instead into a nice neat bow.  But to do that would be to stop short of truly experiencing God, it would be like accepting the world as a mere collection of random colors where detail and perspective are completely lost.

Perhaps the reason the cross is so particularly hard to grasp is because it it an act of violence.  An act of violence that we say was necessary and done ‘for us’.  Humanity is quite the expert at covering up the violence that pervades our lives and the workings of our world.  And we try very hard to do the same thing with the violence that was present in Christ’s death.  We have become accustomed to crosses either gilded in gold on one hand, or completely bare on the other.  The cross has become a symbol of imperial majesty or a fashion statement.  When we hide the violence that stands at the center of the gospel drama, we distort the message of God’s costly love turning it into a sentimental fairy tale, or a symbol of domination or something else equally flat and meaningless.  Alternatively, when some people choose to acknowledge the violence of the cross, that violence is blamed on some particular group, like blaming the Jews for Jesus’ death, or even blaming God by saying the cross was a necessary measure to appease God's wrath.  But these are mere scapegoats that only add to the system of violence present in the world.[3]

The unfortunate truth of this world is that it is saturated with violence.  No less so now than it was in Jesus’ time.  The twentieth century was riddled with some of the worst violence the world had seen and while we may have had hopes that the twenty first century would bring a new beginning, those hopes were quickly dashed as war and civil unrest rage across the globe.  Socially and economically the weak are still at the mercy of the strong, with unchecked competition that glorifies the victors even at the expense of the vulnerable.  Still in the United States alone there are nearly one million reported cases of domestic violence a year and 3 million reported cases of child abuse.  Even the Church is subject to scrutiny as exploitation, abuse of power and hateful rhetoric are constantly tarnishing the name of Christianity. 

 It is true that we are not all equally responsible for the terrible webs of violence that ensnare this world, but we are all caught up in it.  Most of us are not merely victims or victimizers, but are a bit of both as we both passively and actively take part in the cycles of violence and exploitation that make the world function in the way that it does. [4]
 
This is the real world, the world into which salvation unfolds.  A world of both systematic and individual violence, both hidden and overt.  A world where the poor are exploited the innocent are slaughtered children abused, the earth plundered, and prophets are murdered.  The message and ministry of Jesus, clash profoundly with this world, just as it did in the first century A.D.  Jesus announces God’s forgiveness to sinners, promises the future to the poor, welcomes the outcast and the stranger and calls everyone to a new way of life characterized by selfless love for God and for others. 

When Jesus proclaims and enacts the kingdom of God in the world, a world ruled by human kingdoms built on violence, it is inevitable that the purveyor of God’s Kingdom would suffer.  God’s boundless love collides with a world that desires domination and therefore fears the reign of God that is founded on self offering, love and forgiveness.  The fear cannot help but incite the desire to retaliate and meets God with counter-violence.  In the face of this it was indeed necessary that Jesus Christ suffer and die, that God’s love be fully expressed in all its subversive vulnerability.  This necessity is not of God’s making but the necessity of a world order of human making.  It is a necessity that the one who brings to us God’s forgiveness and shows the reign of God characterized by mercy, freedom, peace and love should fall victim to the violence of retribution, coercion, hate and fear.  The good news of this is that God does not oppose our violence with more violence, does not answer our evil with evil, but answers only with love.  The cross is God’s free but truly costly gift of love whose goal is the true transformation of the world, the true transformation of souls.  

The cross writes on human history the truth that the vulnerability of love and the courage of true compassion and forgiveness will always be greater than the raging passions and fears of this world.  

We profess in the Apostles creed that Jesus after he died ‘descended into hell’, while this statement is perhaps provocative in its interpretation, it is necessary in that it shows the completeness of God’s love.  Extending to the furthest corners of being, not just to the victims, but to the perpetrators, not just to the oppressed but to the oppressors, not just to the betrayed but to the betrayers too.  The cross is the sign of God’s unending, and unlimited love for us.  We have the freedom to turn away from God both in this world and the next, but God will not turn away from us, not ever.
Christ died in order to expose the selfish and self destructive system of violence we have devised for ourselves, a violence that can only lead to destruction, violence that corrupts both the beauty of this planet, and the beauty of our own creative gifts. And most especially destroys the beauty of our own human nature created in God’s image.  This is what humanity has done with the freedom we have been given.  So Christ came to show us what we have let ourselves become, but Christ’s death is so much more than that, because in the cross we also see the unadulterated, uncompromising love of God.  A love that does not waver, that does not lose hope.  

But Christ’s death goes beyond being merely an example, because even though God gives us insight into the kingdom of God vs. the kingdoms of humanity, we are still stuck in the cycle of violence set in motion so very many generations ago.  We are thoroughly steeped in this world, and our own perspectives can only take us so far.  That is, we are like a blind man who has been given sight, we may now be able to see the world around us, but we struggle to truly understand what it means, or what to do next.  Christ’s death on the cross forges a way ahead of us, a way through death which imprisons us in confusion and fear.  Christ breaks through that prison of death creating a path into a new level of being that is beyond our limited imaginations.  A path that Christ will lead, but never coerce us to follow into.  It is a seemingly incomprehensible path of the most courageous and vulnerable of all love, and while we may seem blinded by all that we don’t understand, we are asked to hang our faith on the cross.
Because despite all that we don’t understand, despite how unreasonable the ways of God’s Kingdom may seem to us in the context of this world, the cross is a promise that God’s way of life, a life we too are called to live, is so much greater than our own way of darkness and death.


[1] Sacks, Oliver. “To See or Not to See.” NY, 1993.  http://www.wfu.edu/art/art111/files/12_tosee.pdf
[2]Williams, Rowan. “A Ray of Darkness.” A Ray of Darkness: Sermons and Reflections. Cambridge: Cowley Pub, 1995.  102.
[3] Migliore, Daniel L. Faith Seeking Understanding. Cambridge: Eerdman Pub, 2004. 188.
[4] Ibid, 189.

Sunday, March 23, 2014

Living Water and Hearts of Stone



I think we all know the importance of water.  Water is the most basic of human necessities, we are lucky that where we live water is easily accessible, in our daily life we do not necessarily have to worry about having enough water to drink.  But we are also in the middle of a drought here and we know the importance of the water we use. 
Water is the most basic symbol for life.  In last week’s Gospel Jesus told the Pharisee Nicodemus that “no one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and Spirit.”  Nicodemus does not understand this, but this week we hear more about water both in the Old Testament reading and the Gospel.  In Exodus the Israelites are lost in the Wilderness and are starting to regret their freedom as they get more and more thirsty.  God tells Moses to go to a certain stone and strike it with his staff and out pours a spring of water.  In the Gospel Jesus speaks to a woman at Jacob’s well and tells her about a water that will quench her thirst forever.
The idea that Jesus speaks to a woman at a well may not sound all that shocking to us, but the early Christians would have been amazed by this story. Jews and Samaritans did not talk to each other. As far as Jews were concerned Samaritans were heretics, and were considered unclean. And Samaritans thought the same thing of the Jews. And what was worse, this particular Samaritan was a woman. Women had no place in public life, they were not allowed to worship with men and in general Jewish men did not have much contact with women in public, particularly if the woman was a stranger and a Samaritan.  Now of course we know that Jesus did not think much of these social rules. 
But this particular woman was also an outsider from her own community. John makes a point of saying that it was about noon when Jesus stopped by the well. Women usually went to the well together in the morning. It gave them the opportunity to socialize and gossip as they did their chores. But this woman went to the well alone in the middle of the day. As Jesus talks to her he reveals to her that he knows why she is an outcast, she has had several husbands over the course of her life and she was living with another man who wasn't her husband. 
So when Jesus turned to this woman and asked her to give him a drink of water he broke every social expectation about how a Jewish Man and a Samaritan woman were supposed to interact with each other.  So Imagine her surprise when this Jewish stranger looked up and asked her for water. She knew that by accepting water from her, Jesus would be breaking Jewish laws of purity. So she asked him “How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria?”  But Jesus is not fazed by her reaction and says that if she had asked, he would give her living water.  Like Nicodemus Last week, the Samaritan woman does not understand at first what Jesus is talking about.  She thinks he is talking about normal, everyday water, but we know that the water that Jesus offers her is different, like the new birth Jesus tells Nicodemus about, the living water that Jesus offers to this woman is Spiritual in nature.  When Jesus offers the Samaritan woman water that will quench her thirst forever, she does not really understand, but she knows this living water is something she wants.  But Jesus does not seem to give her anything, nor does he try to explain to her what he means by living water. Instead Jesus suddenly seems to change the subject, and instead of giving her water he asks her to go get her Husband.  What was Jesus doing?  He tells her about living water, but when she asks for some he starts to talk to her about her personal life.   

We all have emotional barriers around our hearts that we build up to protect ourselves from pain, but the problem with barriers is that they tend not to be too discriminating about what they let in and out.  We turn our hearts to stone so that we do not get hurt, but then what good is a heart of stone?  So when Jesus asks this woman to go and get her husband, he struck a blow right to the heart of the woman.  The fact that she was living with a man who was not her husband was the very reason she was an outcast within her society.  What did she think was going on when she admitted to Jesus that she didn’t have a husband?  Did she think she was about to be scorned and rejected by yet another person? 
But Jesus does not reject her.  He starts to tell her exactly what she is hiding, without any judgment he reveals to her that he knows the source of the pain and shame that she is trying to protect herself from.  Jesus let her know that he truly saw her, with all of her faults, and he did not reject her.
And suddenly her heart was broken open.  Like Moses in the Old Testament, Jesus struck the rock that was this woman’s heart and out flowed a spring of water.  Step by step Jesus takes down the Samaritan woman’s defenses. 
By telling the woman about herself, Jesus showed her who he was. By confirming her true identity, he revealed his own identity to her. But she was still not quite ready to believe. The Samaritans worshipped on Mount Gerazim and that was where they believed the Messiah would appear, but she also knew that the Jews thought the Messiah would appear in the Temple in Jerusalem. If this Jewish man who seemed to know her so well was truly the Messiah, how could he also be the Messiah for the Samaritans? But Jesus calms her fears and tells her that soon it will not matter where you worship. “I know the Messiah is coming,” she says, “when he comes, he will proclaim all things to us.” And in response to that Jesus said to her, “I am he, the one who is speaking to you.”
In that instant her life truly did change. The man she was speaking to was not just a rebellious Jewish man who wanted a drink of water. This was the person they all had been waiting for.  And the living spring of water flowed inside of her.  She was suddenly not a lonely outcast, but an evangelist.  With this new life-giving spring flowing inside of her she was fearless, armed with the knowledge that she was known and loved, she was suddenly compelled to share that love with everyone.  It didn’t matter that this was the very society that had made her hate herself, she had a spring of life giving love inside of her that had to be shared.
So she ran into her village saying, “Come and see a man who told me everything I have ever done!” Jesus told her everything she had ever done, and showed her that she was loved.  The same living spring can be found in each of us if we let our hearts be broken open by our faith in God’s love.  We do not need to fear droughts or the inaccessibility of Christ’s living water.  It is in us and while our bodies still need physical water, God’s love for us is our true strength, our true courage, our true refreshment.
Amen.  

Wednesday, March 5, 2014

A very SHORT sermon for Ash Wednesday



Today we gather together to begin the season of Lent.  Soon we will be receiving ashes on our foreheads.  The ashes are a visible recognition of our own mortality and our own need for repentance.  Lent is a journey, hopefully a journey of spiritual reflection and change.  But repentance is not the same as guilt or shame.  It is easy to feel shameful or guilty, they require nothing new from us.  Repentance is a change of heart and mind.  As we move into the season of Lent we are looking for that change within ourselves.  Today we are offered the space to admit our own vulnerability without shame. 
On the surface the imposition of ashes can seem to be in contradiction to today’s Gospel message.  Jesus warns against public displays of piety and charity.  He even says, “When you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face.”  Three times Jesus warns against being like the hypocrites, he warns his listeners against praying and fasting and giving alms for the wrong reasons.  And it is for that very reason that we have this particular Gospel every Ash Wednesday.  How we spend Lent can easily become a point of pride for us.  It is easy for our Lenten disciplines to become a sort of competition, or 40 day endurance race.  The ashes can quickly become a point of pride or even embarrassment.  I used to tell people what I was giving up for Lent and then spend 40 days complaining about how hard it was.  But I was missing the point, and I had failed to listen to Jesus’ warnings.  

All of what Jesus says in today’s Gospel can be summed up in his final statement “Where your treasure is there your heart will be also.”  What exactly do we treasure?  I believe this is a harder question than we like to admit.  We know what we are supposed to treasure, we know that we are supposed to say that things like money, recognition and power are all things that we don’t want.  Even if they are the very things that we choose to pursue, we know we are never supposed to admit that those are the things that we truly treasure.  We can even fool ourselves about our desires and priorities.  The truth is, to really admit, even to ourselves, where our heart is would be to expose it, make it vulnerable to criticism and pain.   So maybe one of the best things we can do during this season of lent is determine exactly what are treasures really are.  Where do we keep our hearts?  

And why does it matter?  We give our hearts away to so many things that by the time we get to God, what is left?  We seem to rely on everything but God to love us.  In our constant search for wholeness we give our love away to things like our careers, our wealth, our possessions, our hobbies.  We look to fulfillment through food, or diets, through self-improvement programs or spiritual fads.  We distract ourselves with Facebook or television.  None of these things are, in themselves bad, but bit by bit we give our hearts to all of these meaningless and temporary things that we wind up having almost nothing left to give to God or to each other.   

And so, thank God once a year we gather to speak the truth of how we piece out our hearts, how we sin and fall short, how we rely on every single other thing to love us – everything but God.  We gather here today to be reminded that we are dust and to dust we shall return.  We have broken our hearts into a million little pieces, and now we gather here to begin the journey of gathering those pieces up again so that we can return them to their maker.  We are created and given life by God’s divine love.  And it is that divine love that will restore our broken hearts to wholeness if we let it.  Of course, we do not need the season of Lent to do this, but it helps.  Whenever we gather up the pieces of our hearts and offer them to God for healing - that is repentance.  That is what Lent is about – returning to the only place where we can find wholeness, the divine Love of God.