Estrangement and shame: Peter do you love me?

NOTE: My notes for Sunday, April 18th, 2010 are a part of my Eastertide series on considering the meaning of sin in the 21st century. To say that I am not systemmatic would be too obvious: like both of my influences - Niebuhr and Nouwen - I know that only part of this mystery has been unraveled. At the same time, because there is mystery involved, I trust that the parts that are clear are good enough for the time being. If you happen to be in town on Sunday at 10:30 am, drop in and join us.

There seems to be a cyclical nature to the way Christians talk about sin in public: sometimes we are obsessive and harsh, other times we are oblivious and indulgent; often we are shallow and moralistic but every now and again we are insightful, profound and helpful. And this push-pull pattern – our peculiar embrace and then rejection of the reality and effects of human sin – repeats itself over and over again in our history.

Early in our Congregational tradition, preacher Thomas Shepard said: Every natural man and woman is born full of all sin, as full as a toad is of poison, as full as ever his skin can hold… thy mind therefore is a nest of all the foul opinions and heresies that were ever vented by any man. Thy heart is a foul sink of all atheism, sodomy, blasphemy, whoredom, adultery, witchcraft and beggary; so that, if thou hast any good thing in thee, it is as a drop of rosewater in a bowl of poison: where we are fallen it is all corrupted. (Gathered in the Spirit, Susan Drinker Moran)

Less than one hundred years later, however, when this nation’s first authentic intellectual, Jonathan Edwards, preached an equally vigorous message about sin and human depravity over the hill in Northampton… at first he was celebrated but eventually found himself so alienated from his congregation that they fired Edwards from his pulpit and banished him to the farthest western regions of the wilderness: Stockbridge.

There have been times when we have cherished the loose grace of Emerson and his transcendentalists and other times when we have hungered for firery revivalist preachers like Charles Finney, Dwight L. Moody or even Billy Graham. Before the First World War, American Christianity wrestled with social justice and notions of human perfectionism only to aggressively swing back towards fundamentalism and a fear of eternal hellfire and damnation by the war’s ugly end. In the 1940s and 50s Reinhold Niebuhr tried reclaim a healing and psychological interpretation of sin for the world, but by 2000 the contemporary theologian and teacher, Marcus Borg, was asking whether our whole notion of sin was more trouble that it was worth.

In his book, The Heart of Christianity, Borg frames the challenge like this: (Clearly) the language of sin and forgiveness dominates the Christian imagination. Its centrality in Christian thought and practice is evident everywhere… (and yet) is the word sin the best way to name what is wrong (with humankind)? Does its centrality illumine what the Christian life is about or cloud it?

It is almost schizophrenic, isn’t it? No wonder so many in our tradition no longer want to talk or even think about sin: not only has our history been confusing, but too often our sin-talk and been punitive, moralistic and mean-spirited. Think of the pillory and stocks that our spiritual ancestors used on the town green at Old Sturbridge Village and throughout New England. Do you know what I’m talking about?

• A pillory is a wooden frame that locked a sinner’s hands and head into place – and stocks locked their feet – so that you could be immobilized for public humiliation as part of your rehabilitation.

• Such spiritual offenses as lying, idleness, falling asleep during the sermon or missing either of the two required worship services on Sunday could lead to your being imprisoned in the pillory or stocks where it was expected that your neighbors and others in the town throw garbage – or worse – at you.

And let’s never forget that our ancestors also believed it edifying for a drunk to be forced to wear a large D on his or her clothes – or a T for theft – of an A for adultery. Lord, have mercy – and while I’m on a roll let me note that Protestants don’t have a monopoly on unhealthy notions of sin either. No, our Roman Catholic sisters and brothers have been equally scrupulous about condemning petty moral offenses and emphasizing human depravity instead of God’s grace.

• My man, Bruce Springsteen, tells the story of going to Catholic grade school and the abuse he took at the hands of the nuns. One day, when he was caught daydreaming instead of paying attention to the lesson, he was forced to sit all day in a garbage can with a dunce cap on his head. “You are nothing but garbage,” the nun told him, “and you will amount to nothing but garbage – so get used to it!”

• Sadly, I suspect that there are equally punitive strains amongst our Jewish cousins in faith as well as Islam and other spiritual paths when it comes to sin.

So, given all this brokenness – given all the shallow moralistic and judgmental notions that continue to plague our hearts and wound our minds – you might be wondering why I’ve chosen to do a five part series about sin in the 21st century. Why not leave well enough alone, yes? Hasn’t there been enough damage done?

So let me tell you why I think it is necessary for us to go down this road one more time: thinking and talking about sin gives us permission to explore the mysterious aspects of the human condition. We are beings of body and soul – spirit and flesh – heaven and earth, yes? And there are just some things we cannot grasp or fully understand. How does St. Paul put it? “Now we see as through a glass darkly, then we shall see face to face.”

“Sin,” writes theologian James Nelson, “is not the only metaphor for addressing the basic human condition, but it is the main one given to me by my heritage.” He continues:

That is why I cannot join our culture’s dismissal of religious language when it comes to human dysfunction… I cannot accept the so-called ‘triumph of the therapeutic’ – where medicine, psychology and sociology are seen as the only relevant explanations of human brokenness. (Something more is at work – something mysterious – and something that every religious tradition uses to try and explain) why good things have turned bad and why relationships have gone wrong.” (Nelson, Thirst, p. 60)

Are you still with me? What Nelson is saying – and what I think is profoundly true – is that science and medicine alone cannot explain human brokenness. There is something at work within and among us – something mysterious and beyond our control – that causes us to hurt those we love, that drives us into self-destructive behavior, that impels us towards violence and lust and all the rest.

Nelson speaks of this something as sin which he defines like this: What is sin? Theologies give diverse descriptions of the fundamental but mysterious problem: missing the mark, disobedience, pride, sensuality, selfishness, inordinate self-loss, injustice – the possibilities are numerous. And while I find some truth in each of these, I find sin best described as profound estrangement. It is relational brokenness, separation from everything meaningful. It is alienation from ourselves, from those around us and from our environment. It is separation from life itself. Because, fundamentally, sin is estrangement from God who is the source and ground of all that exists.

In the beginning, God saw that it was good – that’s how the Bible begins – but things go south real fast. Frederick Buechner summarizes what some have called the “central plot” of the Bible like this: “I think it is possible to say that in spite of all its extraordinary variety, the Bible is held together by having a single plot. It is one that can be simply stated: God creates the world, the world gets lost and God seeks to restore the world to the glory for which God created it.”

What sin-talk is really all about, therefore, is not a catalogue of vices or a moral list of behaviors that are wicked and unhealthy. Rather sin is a way for us to describe what it means to be lost – and how God’s love can bring us home – just like the old hymn tells us:

Amazing grace how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me
I once was lost but now am found, ‘twas blind but now I see

That’s what this morning’s gospel lesson celebrates, yes? Peter is not restored to vibrancy and integrity by being punished or shamed. Jesus does not force him into a pillory or stocks to bring an end to his estrange-ment, does he? Preacher, Peter Koontz, puts it this way: “In this story, we are Peter, and Peter is us. And the second chance (he is given) comes not through some penitential act… but through the sheer grace and love of Jesus himself."

And just so that we hold onto to this insight, let’s review the story because it tells us something important about sin and grace.

• The story begins with Peter and some of the disciples back in their fishing boats: now why do you think this important?

• It is what they knew before their relationship with Jesus, yes? It is a way of reminding us that when we are estranged from God and caught in shame… we often fall back into old behaviors and habits. Do you know what I mean? Can you give me an example…

The story says that often we slip back into old habits and behaviors when we are estranged and ashamed: that is one of the mysterious ways sin works. I’m not sure I know how to explain this or even understand it – but I know it is true. That’s one insight but there are three others that deserve mention:

• First, the story goes on to tell us that Jesus comes back to Peter and the disciples, but they don’t recognize him. They are caught up in their old ways and don’t yet see the grace of God moving towards them.

• Which suggests something very different that really has nothing to do with the old, moralistic notions of sin: sin doesn’t push us away from God, sin brings God towards us. Do you see that in this story – how this estrangement works to help and heal – not punish?

Don’t get me wrong: there are clearly consequences to our sin – we feel empty and angry and afraid or guilty and ashamed – and God lets us feel the consequences of sin. But never to wound or punish us – always to pull us closer into relationship, yes?

• For isn’t that what happens next in the story? Jesus doesn’t chase all the fish in the Sea of Tiberius away, he fills their nets full and brings bounty to his disciples not scarcity. So much so that we’re told Simon Peter pulled in 153 fish into a net that just moments before had been empty.

• I’m not going to waste our time talking about that number – 153 – but it is a curious little detail. And there have been sermons preached about that 153 representing all the known types of fish in the Sea of Tiberius at that time and how this is symbolic of Christ’s to all different types of people.

• I prefer to go with the wisdom of St. Augustine on this who said it is a mystery number that points to God’s bounty and power beyond the obvious.

Clearly, when Christ comes back into the lives of his disciples not only is their shame and estrangement gone, but they are filled and nourished. The story tells us that the disciples had a feast on the beach – their sorrow has been lifted – and they are brought into joy and celebration. That’s the whole point of sin – to bring us back into relationship with God – and end our alienation.

So allow me one last insight concerning the questions that Jesus asks of his old friend Simon Peter. This is tough stuff because while Jesus never wounds us he does make it clear to Peter that Peter has wounded him: “Do you love me, Peter?” He asks this question three times – three times Peter denied the Lord – and three times Jesus asks him to reflect on his love. It is agonizing – there is tension and remorse – there is sorrow and uncertainty – there is sin and grace wrapped up in this mystery.

• Do you love me, Peter, more than all these? All these old habits and ways of living? All these other people and relationships? All the other loves in your life?

• If so, Jesus continues, your love for me will have to become compassion and connection with my sheep for there is no distinction between loving me and caring for the flock.

Think about this for this is how Christ treats sin: no hair shirts, no flagellation, no pillory and stocks or public humiliation. He helps us name our shame and alienation – he comes to us when we are most wounded with an embrace not a rebuke – and then he works to fill us full from the inside out. And when the feast is over, when we have known joy and hope again, he quietly tells us that now we are to give to others what we ourselves have experienced: grace and compassion in abundance.

• The final words between Jesus and Peter are some of my most cherished for they remind us that many times we will not feel like sharing Christ’s love. “When you were younger,” he says, “you went where you wanted to go and did what you wanted to do.”

• “But now that you are older – more aware of you sin and wounds – now another will lead you into those places where you do not want to go.”

A healthy and honest notion of sin in the 21st century invites us to mature – grow up – so that we can follow Christ with love. It speaks to us of the mystery of real life and the challenges we know but cannot explain. And it helps us hear Jesus when he calls into places we do not want to go. The way of Jesus always begins with your sins are forgiven – then he bids us come and follow. This is the good news for those who have ears to hear.