Year A Proper 18
Matthew 18:15-20
Today’s Gospel is a struggle or it should be a struggle. These verses have been and continue to be used to exclude and divide. They have been used to “identify” who’s in and who’s out in the church—to give permission for people to judge and to get rid of those we don’t agree with, don’t particularly like, or those who cause us to question or doubt ourselves, and we certainly don’t like that. These verses have been used consciously and subconsciously in the history of Christianity to justify horrendous acts of violence; they have been used to separate denominations, to police the Anglican Communion, to justify the division of the Episcopal Church USA, and dare I say it, they have been used within these very walls of St. Mark’s.
Today’s Gospel is not about the world out there—it wasn’t written to teach the church how to be in the world. No today’s Gospel was written specifically for the Christian community, for the church. They are important words for the life of the church, and we should take them seriously, and we should use them. We should use all of the words—yes many times we want the “overall meaning”; these particular verses, however, make their biggest impact, have the most power, in the details. The details that we often overlook in order to hurry to judgment—because it’s easier.
Bear with me as I give you some history of the Gospel of Matthew, but I believe it is important to understand the context of when these words were written if we are going to transpose them onto today’s society. The Gospel of Matthew is often called the Gospel of the church. It is the only one of the four Gospels that even uses the word “church” or ecclesia as it is called in Greek. The structure of this Gospel shows us that its author was a systemizer—this author liked rules-policies and procedures (we would have gotten along well). And this author was writing to a community who was trying to define itself. Remember many of the early Christians were from Jewish backgrounds; some even still worshiped in both the synagogue and house churches. Today’s OT reading is but one illustration of how the Jewish faith is full of rules; how it works. There are many absolutes—do this don’t do that. This new community was trying to define itself, and in doing so it was drawing on both what they knew (Judaism) and how they were to live differently in the post resurrection. So this passage is written to a group of people who are trying to establish a community—I repeat, they are trying to establish a community. And here is where we begin to see the differences—Matthew’s Gospel is written to a group of people who are communally oriented and not a culture like ours which is first and foremost about the individual. In reading and interpreting this passage today we need to consciously and deliberately step out of the mindset of individualistic thinking and focus on community—because truthfully, to be a Christian is to be bound in community. The Gospel of Matthew is about defining the community; it’s about giving characteristics to the community. It’s about recognizing that within community there are disagreements. We like to glamorize the good old days of the church when everyone got along. These verses shatter that way of thinking. There are no good old days when everyone got along in the church; there are no good old days when everyone agreed on doctrine or the interpretation of scripture, or the mission of the church, or how to evangelize, do outreach, or educate, not 10 years ago, not 100 years ago, not even 2000 years ago. The Church has always struggled with difference—with diversity. The word struggle always seems to carry a negative connotation. Does it have to? Can a struggle bring about healing and wholeness? Can a struggle bring about community? The community to whom this Gospel was written struggled to define themselves. As we think about this passage, I challenge you to think about our community here at St. Marks. How do we want to be defined? What characteristics do we want to exude? And what process, what system do we use, or should we use to make that happen?
So let’s take a few minutes to look at the details. These verses begin with “If another member of the church”. The original Greek used the word adlephos which actually translates brother, and that is an important detail because it changes the intimacy of the exchange. My brother is not just some other person who happens to sit in a pew three rows over. Brother indicates a relationship—a closeness, a connection. Think of your own family—are there members you are closer to? Are there members you have more in common with? Absolutely, but that doesn’t mean you don’t still have a connection to the rest of your family. That doesn’t mean you want to excommunicate or disown the rest of your family because they like a different sports team, have different political views, or even go to a different church. These verses begin with a reminder that we are a community connected—we have a relationship that includes all our differences.
The next detail that is important not to miss is who verse 15 is speaking to. The offended is to take the initiative. How often do we sit back and wait for someone to come to us and apologize? They should know what they did we tell ourselves. I’m not making the first move—in our culture of individualism, making the first move often indicates weakness. Never let them see you sweat is the motto we live by, and believe me approaching someone about a conflict may cause you to sweat.
I have a confession to make as we move to the next detail, the detail that says go alone. I don’t like this part. I want to find a group of people who will listen to my grievance with someone else and build me up by telling me how right I am and how wrong the other person is. Here’s the true confession—I have figured out a way to even do this and seem as though I’m being loving and caring. I tell myself or others that I’m talking about it because a) I’m concerned about the other person or b) I want to make sure I understand the situation right, make sure that I’m not misunderstanding the perception of the other person. That’s loving right? I certainly don’t want to run the risk of hurting someone else by going to them with an issue if I’ve misunderstood. There are many ways to justify talking to others and calling it something other than what it is—gossip, triangulation, and just plain wrong.
No we are to go alone with sweaty palms and shaky voice if that’s what it is or to go with our tears or to simply go for a conversation. The Jewish tradition is to take witnesses and that is how the people of Matthew’s community would have understood it. They would have been familiar with this custom. Going alone first? No way—in the legalistic Jewish culture of the first century witnesses were necessary. Here is where the combining of the Jewish tradition with post resurrection living connected and diverged for Matthew’s community and for ours. Here is where a characteristic of this new community begins to emerge.
Look carefully at the next phrase, if the member listens—notice it doesn’t say if the member throws him or herself at your mercy; it doesn’t say if the member repents and begs forgiveness; it doesn’t say if the member thanks you for pointing out the errors of his/her ways. It simply says listens. True honest open heart and mind listening is the first step towards reconnection and reconciliation.
Recently I was listening to a podcast on my run where Frances Kissling was being interviewed. She served as the chair of Catholics for Choice for 25 years. She adamantly disagrees with many of the policies of the Catholic Church, but she remains in communion. One of the things she said in this interview has haunted me—led me to think, to reconsider my views on many people and things, forced me to reconsider my idea of reconciliation, and I offer it to you. She says there are some issues in the world that we will never be able to reconcile and come to agreement on—there are some issues that we may not and probably will not find common ground. She dares to say that she doesn’t believe there is much promise in finding common ground with those whose views and ideology we fundamentally oppose. She writes and speaks about the power that comes when we have the courage to be vulnerable with those whom we passionately disagree. She says that our rush to come to agreement can get in the way of our really understanding each other. In the face of issues that she asserts can never be reconciled, she advocates listening and honestly trying to find the good/the truth in what the other person believes. She challenges us to try to understand why someone may believe something different than us even if we never agree. She states we must approach differences with the notion that there is good in the other.
So, all the other person must do according to these verses is to listen. What it doesn’t say but I believe is implied is that both parties should listen. If the person doesn’t listen this is where other people are brought in—not the easy way. We’re not called to go find our two or three closest friends in the church, talk about the grievance for hours, and develop a plan. I’m not going to belabor these two steps of two or three people and then the whole church because it is part of the system this church put into place in much the same way we have systems in our churches today—vestries etc. I do want to consider, however, why it is important to get others involve. Why is it important to bring individual issues within a congregation to the whole church? I return to the fact that to be a Christian is to be in community; we are not a bunch of individuals who happen to attend the same church, but rather we together are the body of Christ. We are a community. Within communities individual issues can effect directly and indirectly the entire congregation. Have you ever been with a group of people and two don’t get along—perhaps it’s a group of couples and one couple is clearly having an argument although no one knows what it’s about. The whole atmosphere of the gathering is affected. Perhaps a couple of you being to whisper, “do you know what’s going on?” and then people begin to guess, try to read into what’s going on, and the misunderstandings and misperceptions intensify. Reconciliation doesn’t mean not addressing issues even as an entire congregation. We cannot keep walking around the elephants in the room, whispering about them behind closed doors and expect to remain a vital life giving community of faith. It doesn’t mean ignoring the issues that need to be discussed and it also doesn’t mean addressing and blowing up issues at are trivial. Discernment through prayer is needed to decide which is which. Nonetheless, all three of the steps mentioned in the passage are important--, alone, two or three people, and the whole congregation have the same goal—listening and reconciling and keeping the community together. All three of these steps involve an openness and honesty that is difficult and that can be painful. It sounds easy, but it’s not. We want justice; we want others to admit they are wrong—to agree with us. We want to be right and we believe that in order to be right the other must be wrong and we want to make sure everyone knows how very wrong that person or that group of people are. Richard Mouw the a conservative theologian and president of Fuller Theological Seminary says, “The way people are treated is a greater measure of Christian virtue than the position one takes.” These steps help make certain we are treating people in a way that brings healing to all.
I can see some of you reading ahead, thinking ahead and thinking that sounds good, but it does say if they won’t listen let them be to you as a Gentile or tax collector. So clearly there are issues that occur where we are justified in kicking someone out---dismissing someone—refusing to have any further relationship. We get to treat them like Gentiles and tax collectors—it says so right here. We know that in the community of this Gospel Gentiles and tax collectors were the lowest of the low. Remember, Jesus is talking not the leaders of the community. So who do we model ourselves on-the leaders of the Roman Empire, our culture today, or Jesus? If we treat them as Jesus would, then we have to eat with them, we have to talk to them, we have to engage with them—we might even have to pass the peace with them or sit near them during coffee hour or even serve on a committee with them.
This passage isn’t about separating the wheat and the tares; it’s not about going on a witch hunt, it’s about building up a community—it’s about relationship, forgiveness and reconciliation in spite of our differences. It’s about hearing other people and daring to make a connection. How do we connect? We connect through knowing each other and we know each other through story. The whole of the Bible consists of stories which help us to know who God is and how God is manifested in the world. Several months ago our senior warden sent a letter to the congregation challenging us to branch out—sit in a different pew even attend a different service. I would like to add to that challenge, and I hope some of you will take me up on this. Look around today or over the next month and seek out someone you don’t know well. Perhaps it’s someone you don’t think you have anything in common with; perhaps it’s someone you’re pretty sure you disagree theologically or politically. Or perhaps it’s just someone you don’t know. Seek someone out and have coffee or lunch or dinner with them and hear their story and tell them yours. You don’t have to discuss touchy or tough issues—just hear their story; why do they live in Louisville? What brought them here? Do they have a partner, children? What do they do in their free time? Why do they go to St. Mark’s? I’d love to have you share these experiences with me; I promise to maintain confidentiality.
As I close, I’d like to share one more thought. As I’ve reflected over the interview with Frances Kissling, there is a point that I adamantly disagree. She says there isn’t much use in finding common ground with people whose ideas we oppose; I will concede that may be true if you only look at the issue, but not if you look at the person as another human being created in the image of God. I also disagree that there is no common ground—as Christians we have the common ground of believing what we assert in the Nicene Creed as we are about to do. We not only have common ground, but we also have a common table and we will all come before it today. We will kneel next to those we love and next to those who we are called to love, next to those we with whom we agree and next to those with whom we don’t. As we kneel before our common table seeking forgiveness, sustenance and transformation, we remember that we are all a part of the community of faith. And then together as the community of faith, we will rise and go out into the word to do the work God has given us to do, loving and serving God as faithful witnesses of Christ the Lord. Amen.
03 September, 2011
Year A Proper 11
Year A
Proper 11
Matthew 13:24-30; 36-43
Preached in New Albany, IN
Upon initial reading or hearing, this gospel sounds so straightforward. The parable itself doesn’t seem too hard to figure out on our own, but just in case, Jesus even explains it step by step. Clearly there are good people and there are bad people, there will be a final judgment and some will be in and others out. We’re sitting here in church on a Sunday morning, so obviously we’re in, we just have to wait it out. Oh how I would love for that to be the whole explanation. I must admit to you I am a rule following girl—give me a black and white world with a set of rules and I could really function well. But we all know this world isn’t a black and white world—and so we must look further into the parable and explore the parts that aren’t explained; the parts that muddy the water.
The weeds are obviously very important here, but the detail that we need to explore is the type of weed. While I would like to believe Jesus is saying don’t bother weeding your garden, it’s not so. These are a very specific type of weed which look exactly like wheat—today it is called darnel wheat and is very very difficult to tell apart from wheat. But the slaves quickly pick up on it—they recognize there is darnel wheat in the field. Keep in mind the slaves are not explained in Jesus’ interpretation. Who are they? They recognize there is darnel wheat, they can or they think they can differentiate it from the good wheat, but the householder tells them to leave it alone. Not only are they not to separate it now, but they are not even the ones who will separate it later. That will be the job of the reapers.
Suddenly, this world of the parable is not so black and white; what appeared to be complete clarity is fogging up. It’s beginning to look more like our world. A world where appearances are not absolute truths. A world where the good and the bad are interconnected and often difficult to separate. And yet we crave the simplicity of that separation; we want to put things, ideas and people into catagories into our lists of good and bad. We want to live in a world of us and them. Not only does that world exist outside of the doors of the church, but it also permeates within the very walls of the church. Within denominations and within individual churches there are differences. We struggle with diversity and wanting to have a definitive rule book for every situation—we want a guide book that says this is right behavior, belief, thought and this is wrong. And we want to be the slaves who make that decision—we want to uproot those things which we believe are bad, useless, worthless. And we don’t want to wait. And this is where we must pay attention to the parable. This is where we must wait because in our attempt at judgment; in our desire to uproot the evil, we risk damaging the good. Even with the best of intentions, and I do believe that most people do have good intentions. I believe that most people who fight and struggle over differences in belief are doing so from their own personal very strong faiths. But if we are so hasty to be right and to decide what and who is right, we run the very real danger of making mistakes. If in our differences within the church we divide and expel; then the whole congregation suffers, and when the church is damaged within, it cannot fulfill its mission to the world.
Pay close attention to what the householder says, “Let both of them grow together until the harvest;” Clearly the darnel wheat is not damaging the entire crop; the wheat will still come to fruition; the crop will still be a success. The seed will still be transformed into a useful piece of wheat despite the existence of the weeds. In the parable Jesus explains that the field is the world. We as a church exist within the world and in the world there is evil. We know that. That evil is not as easy to identify as we would like. I have four children and I would like nothing more than to be able to give them descriptions of evil—a person that looks like this is bad etc. We all know from the many criminal cases we have seen over the years, that some of the worst atrocities are done by the clean cut boy or girl next door. So if we can’t identify pure atrocious evil, what makes us think we can judge who is and who isn’t “right before God?”
I’d like to challenge a little bit deeper and I must admit this makes me very uncomfortable. But could it be there is a little bit of wheat and weed in each of us? Is there a line within each of us that is easy to cross and move from good to evil? Alexander Solzhenitsyn a Russian novelist, dramatist, and historian writes,
Gradually it was disclosed to me that the line separating good and evil passes not through states, nor between classes, nor between political parties either, but right through every human heart, and through all human hearts. This line shifts. Inside us, it oscillates with the years. Even within hearts overwhelmed by evil, one small bridgehead of good is retained; and even in the best of all hearts, there remains a small corner of evil.
We are all shocked and grief stricken when we hear of an infant dying from shaken baby syndrome, but can anyone identify with having to walk out of the room of a colicky baby you’ve been tending for hours at a time? Or do you possess the characteristic of being impatient—could that impatience be used to get things moving, to motivate, and could that impatience also be used to be pushy, to step on others? The roots cannot be separated—the weeds do not impede growth; growth, transformation occurs despite of the weeds in our lives and in the world.
It is not our job now or later to judge and separate the wheat and the weeds. It is not our job to judge and decide who is dispensable; what parts of ourselves are dispensible. This parable frees us from that responsibility; this parable reminds us that we are not God. God is transforming and will transform and God will remove the weeds in the world and in each of us.
In the meantime, we come to church as individuals with our weeds and wheat intertwined, we are a faith community of weeds and wheat in a world of weeds and wheat. And we come to the table bringing with us our weeds and wheat, we kneel next to others with their weeds and wheat, and we pray that together we are transformed so that we can move into the world being humble instruments of transformation.
Proper 11
Matthew 13:24-30; 36-43
Preached in New Albany, IN
Upon initial reading or hearing, this gospel sounds so straightforward. The parable itself doesn’t seem too hard to figure out on our own, but just in case, Jesus even explains it step by step. Clearly there are good people and there are bad people, there will be a final judgment and some will be in and others out. We’re sitting here in church on a Sunday morning, so obviously we’re in, we just have to wait it out. Oh how I would love for that to be the whole explanation. I must admit to you I am a rule following girl—give me a black and white world with a set of rules and I could really function well. But we all know this world isn’t a black and white world—and so we must look further into the parable and explore the parts that aren’t explained; the parts that muddy the water.
The weeds are obviously very important here, but the detail that we need to explore is the type of weed. While I would like to believe Jesus is saying don’t bother weeding your garden, it’s not so. These are a very specific type of weed which look exactly like wheat—today it is called darnel wheat and is very very difficult to tell apart from wheat. But the slaves quickly pick up on it—they recognize there is darnel wheat in the field. Keep in mind the slaves are not explained in Jesus’ interpretation. Who are they? They recognize there is darnel wheat, they can or they think they can differentiate it from the good wheat, but the householder tells them to leave it alone. Not only are they not to separate it now, but they are not even the ones who will separate it later. That will be the job of the reapers.
Suddenly, this world of the parable is not so black and white; what appeared to be complete clarity is fogging up. It’s beginning to look more like our world. A world where appearances are not absolute truths. A world where the good and the bad are interconnected and often difficult to separate. And yet we crave the simplicity of that separation; we want to put things, ideas and people into catagories into our lists of good and bad. We want to live in a world of us and them. Not only does that world exist outside of the doors of the church, but it also permeates within the very walls of the church. Within denominations and within individual churches there are differences. We struggle with diversity and wanting to have a definitive rule book for every situation—we want a guide book that says this is right behavior, belief, thought and this is wrong. And we want to be the slaves who make that decision—we want to uproot those things which we believe are bad, useless, worthless. And we don’t want to wait. And this is where we must pay attention to the parable. This is where we must wait because in our attempt at judgment; in our desire to uproot the evil, we risk damaging the good. Even with the best of intentions, and I do believe that most people do have good intentions. I believe that most people who fight and struggle over differences in belief are doing so from their own personal very strong faiths. But if we are so hasty to be right and to decide what and who is right, we run the very real danger of making mistakes. If in our differences within the church we divide and expel; then the whole congregation suffers, and when the church is damaged within, it cannot fulfill its mission to the world.
Pay close attention to what the householder says, “Let both of them grow together until the harvest;” Clearly the darnel wheat is not damaging the entire crop; the wheat will still come to fruition; the crop will still be a success. The seed will still be transformed into a useful piece of wheat despite the existence of the weeds. In the parable Jesus explains that the field is the world. We as a church exist within the world and in the world there is evil. We know that. That evil is not as easy to identify as we would like. I have four children and I would like nothing more than to be able to give them descriptions of evil—a person that looks like this is bad etc. We all know from the many criminal cases we have seen over the years, that some of the worst atrocities are done by the clean cut boy or girl next door. So if we can’t identify pure atrocious evil, what makes us think we can judge who is and who isn’t “right before God?”
I’d like to challenge a little bit deeper and I must admit this makes me very uncomfortable. But could it be there is a little bit of wheat and weed in each of us? Is there a line within each of us that is easy to cross and move from good to evil? Alexander Solzhenitsyn a Russian novelist, dramatist, and historian writes,
Gradually it was disclosed to me that the line separating good and evil passes not through states, nor between classes, nor between political parties either, but right through every human heart, and through all human hearts. This line shifts. Inside us, it oscillates with the years. Even within hearts overwhelmed by evil, one small bridgehead of good is retained; and even in the best of all hearts, there remains a small corner of evil.
We are all shocked and grief stricken when we hear of an infant dying from shaken baby syndrome, but can anyone identify with having to walk out of the room of a colicky baby you’ve been tending for hours at a time? Or do you possess the characteristic of being impatient—could that impatience be used to get things moving, to motivate, and could that impatience also be used to be pushy, to step on others? The roots cannot be separated—the weeds do not impede growth; growth, transformation occurs despite of the weeds in our lives and in the world.
It is not our job now or later to judge and separate the wheat and the weeds. It is not our job to judge and decide who is dispensable; what parts of ourselves are dispensible. This parable frees us from that responsibility; this parable reminds us that we are not God. God is transforming and will transform and God will remove the weeds in the world and in each of us.
In the meantime, we come to church as individuals with our weeds and wheat intertwined, we are a faith community of weeds and wheat in a world of weeds and wheat. And we come to the table bringing with us our weeds and wheat, we kneel next to others with their weeds and wheat, and we pray that together we are transformed so that we can move into the world being humble instruments of transformation.
Sermon Proper 9 Year A
Proper 9
July 3, 2011
Romans 7:15-25a
Good intentions—we all have them. In fact, I would go out on a limb and say there is probably no one here who lives their life governed by bad intentions—there are very few people who set out on a daily basis to hurt others, to abuse others, to take advantage of others and to do so knowingly, and yet we all do it and do it every day even with the best of intentions.
Even with the best of intentions, sometimes we mess up, we know we aren’t doing the right thing, but we still do it—“I don’t know why I’m acting the way I am” we say. We know better and yet we keep doing the very things we don’t want to do. It can be so frustrating and sometimes try as we might we cannot understand our actions, our hurtful words—“why did you do x?” we say to our children and they respond, “I don’t know” which is absolutely the most frustrating response we could get—especially when we are furious. But sit back and think about it, could it be that is the most honest answer they can give? In today’s age of psychology and enlightenment, we want to give a reason to all behavior—uncover the subconscious reason for behaving certain ways. I’m not saying that’s not important and sometimes very necessary, but I would challenge that in always doing so, are we really just looking for excuses for our behavior? Are we trying to explain something that has no good explanation—are we indeed trying to explain the power of sin?
The power of sin also manifests itself in ways we don’t know. A more complicating and distressing part is the times we do things that hurt others or that lead to an outcome we didn’t intend and we had no idea. Perhaps we say something and it’s misunderstood, perhaps we’re part of an organization that hurts others in ways we know nothing about—
Sin—we don’t like to talk about it even here at church. We don’t like to talk about it because it’s hard to understand—it’s hard to face; it’s hard to admit. We need a better understanding of sin, if that is even possible. Look closely at Paul’s letter to the Romans. Paul doesn’t write about “a sin” but rather “sin.” The omission of that little word “a” completely alters Paul’s meaning of sin from how we understand it. “A sin” reminds us of a report card; a list of what we do well and what we need to work on---checks for good behavior, needs improvement etc. Paul writes of sin, not of “a sin” because for Paul sin is more than the sum of human misdeeds. Yes sin sometimes manifests itself in misdeeds, but Sin is a powerful force—sin is part of the powers and principalities of this world, and sin resides everywhere. The sin of which Paul writes is the distortion of relationship with God—and a distortion of our relationships with one another. Sin is not the breaking of rules—although that results from sin—sin is the breaking of relationship.
If I go back for a moment to my critique of psychology, I have to retract a little bit—why are relationships distorted? Do we need to know and understand that? Possibly—considering Sin in the way Paul writes about it as a distortion of our relationship with God—a turning away from God, we have to consider why that occurs—one theologian explains it this way, “Sin is the turning from God-centeredness to self-centeredness—the self’s insatiable desire to secure its own acceptability through acquisition and possession.”
That we can understand—we live in a culture that promotes the individual—we live in a culture that says you have to look out for yourself no one else will. Take care of yourself; protect yourself; even step on or over those who are in your way. That’s not to say that our society doesn’t say to help others, and there are many people here and elsewhere who give of themselves and their treasure tirelessly — society teaches, however, to give to charities, do outreach but make sure you take care of yourself first. Make sure when you write that check its tax deductible; make sure when you decide on your giving that you have plenty left for yourself. Make sure when you volunteer that it doesn’t exhaust you too much. I’m generalizing and over simplifying—I’m making it seem that there’s one right way and one wrong, but it’s not that way at all. For example, there is nothing inherently wrong with making sure we get tax write offs, it’s even fiscally responsible—everything in this world cannot be brought down to two columns—good and bad It would be so much easier to live in a world of black and white. It would be easier to live in a world where for every situation we can say “this is the moral way to behave and this is not.” In that world sin would be “a sin” or a collection of a sin. Sin, as Paul explains it however, is about injustice, and sin resides in our gray world.
Now that we know how Paul is writing about sin; now that we have considered the power of sin, what do we do about it? I would venture to guess there are very few people if any here who consciously choose to commit a sin. And that is what today’s letter to the Romans is talking about—it’s not Paul’s personal diary or a letter of confession; rather, Paul is speaking of the universal experience of humanity—the experience of truly wanting to do the right thing and yet failing again and again. The frustration of knowing the right thing to do and yet doing something else—sometimes knowingly sometimes not—Paul is writing about the reality of being powerless to Sin. Paul is writing about turning away from God and from one another even when we have the best of intentions.
How many times do you sit in church on a Saturday night or a Sunday morning—you hear the sermon, or the prayer of confession, a hymn, or some other part of the service really hits you and you think this week I’m going to do so much better. This week I’m going to live every day the faith I’m proclaiming here in church. This week I’m going to see the goodness in others. And then Monday comes—if you’re lucky—for others of us—you simply get in the parking lot and deal with who sits where in the car. The intention is there—the desire is there—
Last week I was with my sister and brother celebrating my mother’s birthday. If you want to understand—or at least have an illustration of the complication of relationships, put grown siblings back together for awhile. Here are the people who have known you the longest—they know the good and they know the bad—it’s interesting to watch the dynamics fall right back into how they were. Roles are played out in the same way EVEN though we have all grown and matured—we want to be accepted for whom we have become, but we don’t want to let go of who we were. I am fortunate to be as close to my siblings as I am—but.. So we’re all together having a great time, the Prince and his sisters. Although we were having a great time, every once in awhile (more every that awhile) I was being not very nice—being quite sullen and I have no idea why—truly I don’t. I knew I was acting not nice, I was telling myself I was acting not nice, and yet I kept doing it. It seems a bit strong to say I was jeopardizing our relationships, but I was jeopardizing our time together, it wasn’t my intention and I had no idea why. I could probably try to dissect the relationships then and now; I could try to point the finger at life circumstances, but what good would that do? Explaining away bad behavior does not change bad behavior. Instead I said to my sister, “I’m sorry I’m acting like a brat. I have no idea why and I don’t want to be this way.” Her reply, “I’m sorry too; sorry about whatever is going on, how can I help?” That is an illustration of grace—and that’s what God gives us. Again and again we mess up and God says, “How can I help?” We are given the space to start over—
We pray in the prayer of confession, “we confess that we have sinned against you in thought, word and deed, by what we have done, and by what we have left undone. We have not loved you with our whole heart we have not loved our neighbors as ourselves.” And in another prayer we say, “forgive us for our sins known and unknown, sins we have done and sins done on our behalf.” These are important words—these words acknowledge the power of Sin and they acknowledge God’s grace. The slate, if there is even a slate, is wiped clean. Even with the best of intentions, we cannot defeat sin. God defeated sin through Jesus Christ. We can, however, accept God’s grace and extend God’s grace and we learn to live into God’s grace.
And so we return to church each week and we return to our lives with our best intentions acknowledging that we are not holy people or a holy church obeying, but rather we are a holy community of people with the best of intentions trying to live into our faith—together.
July 3, 2011
Romans 7:15-25a
Good intentions—we all have them. In fact, I would go out on a limb and say there is probably no one here who lives their life governed by bad intentions—there are very few people who set out on a daily basis to hurt others, to abuse others, to take advantage of others and to do so knowingly, and yet we all do it and do it every day even with the best of intentions.
Even with the best of intentions, sometimes we mess up, we know we aren’t doing the right thing, but we still do it—“I don’t know why I’m acting the way I am” we say. We know better and yet we keep doing the very things we don’t want to do. It can be so frustrating and sometimes try as we might we cannot understand our actions, our hurtful words—“why did you do x?” we say to our children and they respond, “I don’t know” which is absolutely the most frustrating response we could get—especially when we are furious. But sit back and think about it, could it be that is the most honest answer they can give? In today’s age of psychology and enlightenment, we want to give a reason to all behavior—uncover the subconscious reason for behaving certain ways. I’m not saying that’s not important and sometimes very necessary, but I would challenge that in always doing so, are we really just looking for excuses for our behavior? Are we trying to explain something that has no good explanation—are we indeed trying to explain the power of sin?
The power of sin also manifests itself in ways we don’t know. A more complicating and distressing part is the times we do things that hurt others or that lead to an outcome we didn’t intend and we had no idea. Perhaps we say something and it’s misunderstood, perhaps we’re part of an organization that hurts others in ways we know nothing about—
Sin—we don’t like to talk about it even here at church. We don’t like to talk about it because it’s hard to understand—it’s hard to face; it’s hard to admit. We need a better understanding of sin, if that is even possible. Look closely at Paul’s letter to the Romans. Paul doesn’t write about “a sin” but rather “sin.” The omission of that little word “a” completely alters Paul’s meaning of sin from how we understand it. “A sin” reminds us of a report card; a list of what we do well and what we need to work on---checks for good behavior, needs improvement etc. Paul writes of sin, not of “a sin” because for Paul sin is more than the sum of human misdeeds. Yes sin sometimes manifests itself in misdeeds, but Sin is a powerful force—sin is part of the powers and principalities of this world, and sin resides everywhere. The sin of which Paul writes is the distortion of relationship with God—and a distortion of our relationships with one another. Sin is not the breaking of rules—although that results from sin—sin is the breaking of relationship.
If I go back for a moment to my critique of psychology, I have to retract a little bit—why are relationships distorted? Do we need to know and understand that? Possibly—considering Sin in the way Paul writes about it as a distortion of our relationship with God—a turning away from God, we have to consider why that occurs—one theologian explains it this way, “Sin is the turning from God-centeredness to self-centeredness—the self’s insatiable desire to secure its own acceptability through acquisition and possession.”
That we can understand—we live in a culture that promotes the individual—we live in a culture that says you have to look out for yourself no one else will. Take care of yourself; protect yourself; even step on or over those who are in your way. That’s not to say that our society doesn’t say to help others, and there are many people here and elsewhere who give of themselves and their treasure tirelessly — society teaches, however, to give to charities, do outreach but make sure you take care of yourself first. Make sure when you write that check its tax deductible; make sure when you decide on your giving that you have plenty left for yourself. Make sure when you volunteer that it doesn’t exhaust you too much. I’m generalizing and over simplifying—I’m making it seem that there’s one right way and one wrong, but it’s not that way at all. For example, there is nothing inherently wrong with making sure we get tax write offs, it’s even fiscally responsible—everything in this world cannot be brought down to two columns—good and bad It would be so much easier to live in a world of black and white. It would be easier to live in a world where for every situation we can say “this is the moral way to behave and this is not.” In that world sin would be “a sin” or a collection of a sin. Sin, as Paul explains it however, is about injustice, and sin resides in our gray world.
Now that we know how Paul is writing about sin; now that we have considered the power of sin, what do we do about it? I would venture to guess there are very few people if any here who consciously choose to commit a sin. And that is what today’s letter to the Romans is talking about—it’s not Paul’s personal diary or a letter of confession; rather, Paul is speaking of the universal experience of humanity—the experience of truly wanting to do the right thing and yet failing again and again. The frustration of knowing the right thing to do and yet doing something else—sometimes knowingly sometimes not—Paul is writing about the reality of being powerless to Sin. Paul is writing about turning away from God and from one another even when we have the best of intentions.
How many times do you sit in church on a Saturday night or a Sunday morning—you hear the sermon, or the prayer of confession, a hymn, or some other part of the service really hits you and you think this week I’m going to do so much better. This week I’m going to live every day the faith I’m proclaiming here in church. This week I’m going to see the goodness in others. And then Monday comes—if you’re lucky—for others of us—you simply get in the parking lot and deal with who sits where in the car. The intention is there—the desire is there—
Last week I was with my sister and brother celebrating my mother’s birthday. If you want to understand—or at least have an illustration of the complication of relationships, put grown siblings back together for awhile. Here are the people who have known you the longest—they know the good and they know the bad—it’s interesting to watch the dynamics fall right back into how they were. Roles are played out in the same way EVEN though we have all grown and matured—we want to be accepted for whom we have become, but we don’t want to let go of who we were. I am fortunate to be as close to my siblings as I am—but.. So we’re all together having a great time, the Prince and his sisters. Although we were having a great time, every once in awhile (more every that awhile) I was being not very nice—being quite sullen and I have no idea why—truly I don’t. I knew I was acting not nice, I was telling myself I was acting not nice, and yet I kept doing it. It seems a bit strong to say I was jeopardizing our relationships, but I was jeopardizing our time together, it wasn’t my intention and I had no idea why. I could probably try to dissect the relationships then and now; I could try to point the finger at life circumstances, but what good would that do? Explaining away bad behavior does not change bad behavior. Instead I said to my sister, “I’m sorry I’m acting like a brat. I have no idea why and I don’t want to be this way.” Her reply, “I’m sorry too; sorry about whatever is going on, how can I help?” That is an illustration of grace—and that’s what God gives us. Again and again we mess up and God says, “How can I help?” We are given the space to start over—
We pray in the prayer of confession, “we confess that we have sinned against you in thought, word and deed, by what we have done, and by what we have left undone. We have not loved you with our whole heart we have not loved our neighbors as ourselves.” And in another prayer we say, “forgive us for our sins known and unknown, sins we have done and sins done on our behalf.” These are important words—these words acknowledge the power of Sin and they acknowledge God’s grace. The slate, if there is even a slate, is wiped clean. Even with the best of intentions, we cannot defeat sin. God defeated sin through Jesus Christ. We can, however, accept God’s grace and extend God’s grace and we learn to live into God’s grace.
And so we return to church each week and we return to our lives with our best intentions acknowledging that we are not holy people or a holy church obeying, but rather we are a holy community of people with the best of intentions trying to live into our faith—together.
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