One
of my favorite pastoral theologians, Gertrud Mueller-Nelson, has written that
in Lent we are reminded – yet again – that God has a very old tradition of
picking “the inept, reluctant, non-eloquent types to carry forward the message
of change and atonement” to the world.
And while that should be good news for people like you and me, it is not
an easy task.
Not
only is the message of Lent unpopular in our culture – what
do you mean learn from my suffering… I want to get rid of it! –
it is also a spiritual truth that can never be adequately explained or
purchased – only experienced. Lent, you
see, is our “conscious engagement with suffering and death” so that we
might “take stock of our lives as they truly exist and then reform what remains
in order to experience it more fully and passionately.”
Morrie
Schwartz of Tuesdays with Morrie fame expressed the counter-cultural wisdom
of Lent like this when he said: "When you learn how to die, you learn how
to live.”
So
many people walk around with a meaningless life. They seem half-asleep, even
when they're busy doing things they think are important. This is because
they're chasing the wrong things. The way you get meaning into your life is to
devote yourself to loving others…
And the Judeo-Christian-Muslim traditions suggest
that this won’t and cannot happen until you have confronted your own
mortality. Just look at Peter in this
morning’s gospel lesson: when Jesus
makes it clear that his mission includes going to Jerusalem where the “Son
of Man must experience an ordeal of suffering, be tried and found guilty by the
elders, high priests and religion scholars, be killed and after three days rise
up alive," what does Peter do?
· He freaks out, yes? Peter grabbed Jesus, tried to bar his way and
block the Lord from moving towards death only to be told by Jesus: Get thee behind me, Satan.
· Did you hear that: Get thee behind me, Satan? To Peter – the rock – the foundation upon
which the Church will be built.
He called his
dear friend and student Satan – the
adversary – an Aramaic word for the confuser and opponent of God’s will for
creation. And just so that we don’t miss
the point, Jesus goes on to tell us:
Anyone who intends to come with me has to let me lead. You're not in
the driver's seat; I am. Don't run from suffering; embrace it. Follow me and
I'll show you how. Self-help is no help at all. Self-sacrifice is the way, my
way, to saving yourself, your true self. What good would it do to get everything
you want and lose you, the real you? What could you ever trade your soul for?
And that
is where we’ll pick up our second conversation about the Statement of Faith of
the United Church of Christ. You might recall
that in the season of Lent I am taking each of the five weeks to introduce and
review with you one of the key theological documents of our tradition. Last week I spoke about how our faith is
shaped in community rather than in private – we are not isolated spiritual
consumers – but rather people gathered together to trust, experience and
embrace God as the Eternal Spirit.
· This is what Lent is all about – this is a key
truth about the life, death and resurrection of Jesus – God calls and creates
us in his own image to live fully in the world amidst the ways of life and
death.
· So let’s playfully consider what each of those
truths – calls the worlds into being, creates us in his own image and sets
before us the ways of life and death – might mean for us at this moment in
time, ok?
And I want to
begin by clarifying something I was asked about last week in trying to
distinguish the difference between a statement of faith and a creed. I tried to say that a statement of faith is
NOT a test of faith – it is a human attempt to clarify our understanding of
God’s presence in our lives – that is always open to both question and
challenge, yes? Creeds are rarely
treated as open-ended: you either
believe or you don’t.
But statements of
faith are intended to invite conversation – and questions – and even
doubt. Because statements of faith are
never written in stone and always up for revision.
· Does that help?
Do you see the subtle difference?
· Creeds have become eternal guidelines in the larger church while statements of faith
are regularly reworked and massaged as
time and experience matures.
That
is part of what is taking place in the three insights for today where we’re
told that God calls the world into
being, creates us in his image and sets before us the ways of life and
death. Theologian, Roger Shinn, has
observed: It is vital to start at the
beginning of our story where we have come to see that God speaks a word to
start creation. In our tradition there is a connection between creation and
word for creation is not just an act of power, it is also an act of creating
community and meaning. Neither creation
nor communion with God is automatic or effortless.
· Think about that with me for a moment, ok? Neither creation nor communion with God is
automatic or effortless.
· What does that say to you?
In
the story of Abraham and Sarah, what was the work – or effort – that was
required to be faithful? Trust – an
incredible amount of trust that God’s word would become flesh in his flesh –
prompting St. Paul to say:
Abraham
didn't focus on his own impotence and say, "It's hopeless. This
hundred-year-old body could never father a child." Nor did he survey
Sarah's decades of infertility and give up. He didn't tiptoe around God's
promise asking cautiously skeptical questions. He plunged into the promise and
came up strong, ready for God, sure that God would make good on what he had
said. That's why it is said, "Abraham was declared fit before God by
trusting God to set him right.
Trust
is the work of faith – the effort we must bring to the covenant – and it takes
practice, encouragement and the company of others to help us mature. In a culture that is full to overflowing with
things to do and distractions, we are asked to remember that holy living –
creative communion with the Lord and one another – is not automatic. It takes work. Eugene Peterson is helpful when he writes:
All
of us have impulses from time to time to live a holy life – creatively in
communion with all that is true and good and beautiful – a life lived for and
in and by means of our Creator, Redeemer and Sanctifier. And then someone
telephones with an invitation to the hockey game – or we notice that the salad
needs oregano – or the grab-grass in the lawn becomes a priority. And before
you know it we become distracted by the mundane and forfeit, yet again, the
holy – or so we assume. But holiness is
not separate from the hockey game, the oregano or the crabgrass. Holiness is
not being nice. A holy and creative life isn’t a matter of men and women being
polite with God, but of humans who accept and enter into God’s working of
shaping salvation out of the unlikely materials of our sin and ignorance, our
ambition and waywardness – as well as our loves and aspirations and nobilities…
· To be in communion with God – to be trusting in
faith – takes work and effort. That’s the first truth – and what are you
thinking about what I’ve just said?
· Do you have any thoughts or questions or
concerns? You might say that when God calls we are asked to respond – and trust
is essential to a faithful response.
First, God calls the worlds into being. Second, God creates us in his own image. Now for many in our Reformed tradition to be created in God’s image means that we posses – and must use – our capacity for rational thought, right? That is what separates us from the so-called lower forms of life – we have the ability to think deeply and logically – and must apply that lest we descend into chaos.
And I trust that this is true – but only in part – because it is not accidental that we speak of God as creating, yes? So over the years I have come to see that in addition to deep and rigorous rational thinking, being formed in the image of God also includes using our imaginations creatively: for beauty and politics – for art and compassion – for feeding the hungry and nourishing our souls.
I think of the story of the true story of a cabbie in NYC who had been called to a dark home at 2:30 in the morning. He waited at the address – tired and ready to call it a day – and finally went to the door and knocked. Just before he threw in the towel, however, he heard a frail, elderly voice say, “Just a minute” so he waited. After a long pause, the door opened and a small woman in her 80s stood before him with a tiny nylon suitcase. Inside the apartment all the furniture was covered with sheets and things looked barren. “Will you carry my bag out to the cab,” she asked. The story continues…
After I put her bag in my cab, I helped the woman walk from the curb. She thanked me and I told her, “I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother treated.” As we drove off, she asked if we might go through downtown. “It’s not the shortest way” I told her but she said, “I don’t mind. I’m in no hurry. I’m on my way to a hospice and I don’t have any family left. Besides my doctors tell me I don’t have a lot of time left.”
So I quietly reached over and shut off the meter… and for the next two hours we drove through parts of NYC. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator. We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived as newlyweds. She had me pull-up to the front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl. And sometimes we would sit quietly in front of a place in the darkness. As the first hint of the sun came up, she said, “Ok… I’m tired now. Let’s go.”
Today, on the second Sunday of Lent, we celebrate the God who creates: the God who calls the worlds into being and shapes us in his own image – as reluctant, inept and confused as all the rest who have gone before us.
2 comments:
How Great Thou Art: I gotta admit, I never thought this song could be redeemed (horrid substitutionary atonement theology), but this is fantastic!
I am glad you like the instrumental version a la jazz: me, too. Yeah some of my favorite hymns no longer work theologically but still sound damn good when deconstructed and rebuilt, yeah?
Post a Comment