Sermons and thoughts on faith on Scripture from my time at Old Presbyterian Meeting House and Falls Church Presbyterian Church, plus sermons and postings from "Pastor James," my blog while pastor at Boulevard Presbyterian in Columbus, OH.
I'm not sure why, but I've decided to call my thoughts on the lectionary readings "Spiritual hiccups." I suppose that's closer to what they really are, things that pop up after I've looked at the readings for the day.
Today, when I read the Old Testament passage from Ecclesiastes, I was struck by how difficult it can be to fit these verses into conventional Christian notions of going to heaven because you (a) lived a good life, (b) believed the right things, or (c) did some combination of both. The writer goes on about how all people, both the good and the bad, meet the same end, and reaches the following conclusion:
Go, eat your bread with enjoyment, and drink your wine with a merry heart; for God has long ago approved what you do. Let your garments always be white; do not let oil be lacking on your head. Enjoy life with the wife whom you love, all the days of your vain life that are given you under the sun, because that is your portion in life and in your toil at which you toil under the sun. Whatever your hand finds to do, do with your might; for there is no work or thought or knowledge or wisdom in Sheol, to which you are going.
(I should note that Sheol is not the same as heaven or hell. There is no punishment or reward there. It's mostly a metaphor for death, but in so much as it is understood as a place or condition, it speaks of a murky, almost non-existence.)
If nothing else, verses such as this should make it obvious that the Bible is more of a conversation than it is an encyclopedia. And the conversation sounds very different at different points in history, when people have come to different conclusions about God and life with God.
Also clear is how people of deep faith have long wrestled with questions of meaning and purpose, have struggled to understand what the point of it all is.
I've said this before, but I think Christian faith, at least the faith I grew up with in the Presbyterian Church, has become far too settled. We've claimed the Bible and our theology as a definitive encyclopedia containing all the answers to all the questions. But such a view doesn't leave a lot of room to ask new questions or to question old answers.
What is the point of it all? And if someone genuinely asks us this question, can we really engage them in a conversation, or can we just give canned answers? And if the Bible is itself a faith conversation, shouldn't we who claim a biblical faith want to join that conversation, and invite others to share in the discussion?
What is God like?That may be the most fundamental religious question anyone can ask.What does it mean to be human is a close second, but as a religious person, I assume human life has something to do with God.And so I can’t really talk about what it means to be human without first knowing something about the God who created us, who has a purpose for us.I can’t really figure out how my life is related to God without knowing what God is like.
It’s an ancient question, one that all religious seek to address.But God being so much bigger than us and beyond our comprehension, we tend to picture God as like us in some way.When you look at the images we have for God, often they take the human traits that we admire or that impress us, then magnify and multiply them many times over.
We humans tend to be impressed by power and might, by people who can get what they want, who can shape their own destiny, who can bend others to their will.By comparison, we make fun of people who are weak.Politicians love to label their opponensts as weak; weak on crime, weak on terror, weak on defense, and so on.No worse label could be stuck on a president or on someone seeking that office.No one wants the leader of our strong and powerful nation to be weak.
And so it is hardly surprising that a lot of images of God stress power and might on a grand scale.God as a mighty warrior hurling lighting bolts at enemies is a popular picture, and not only with Christians.Greek mythology had Zeus, the head god with an arsenal of lighting bolts.The Norse god Thor was similarly armed.And we have borrowed other human images of power and prestige, God as king for example.
Such images are found in the Bible.God is an awesome, powerful beyond measure, more than able to whup anyone who thinks otherwise, mighty, warrior king.Except that this is only one of many images of God found in the Bible.We’ve also got God as a potter, God as shepherd, God as Father, God as husband, God as broken-hearted lover, God as the champion of the poor and oppressed, and even “God is love.”So which image do we use when we try to answer the question, what is God like?
If I were going to start a religion from scratch, this would be one of the first things I’d deal with.I would clearly spell out just what my God was like so there would be no confusion.That’s what I would do, but the God we meet in the Bible does nothing of the sort.Instead of a nice, neat list of God’s characteristics and traits, we get hundreds and hundreds of pages of stories and songs and letters where people of faith encounter God in their daily lives and in the events of history.And when Jesus shows up, not only do we get lots of stories about him, but he tells more stories.When people ask Jesus what God is like or what God is doing, he is more than likely to tell them a story.
Now this does not lend itself to a simple picture of God that will fit in a wallet or purse, and so a lot of people pick an image that suits them.You’ve heard it said that people can justify most anything using the Bible, which is true as long as you carefully select only certain passages.And people can find all sorts of images of God using the same process.And so not only do a lot of people have a powerful, warrior God, but some folks even have a powerful, sword-wielding, warrior Jesus.I recently ran across a quote from a pastor named Mark Driscoll.He said, “In Revelation, Jesus is a prize-fighter with a tattoo down His leg, a sword in his hand and the commitment to make someone bleed.That is the guy I can worship.I cannot worship the hippie, diaper, halo Christ because I cannot worship a guy I can beat up.”
I looked in Revelation, and Jesus does have a sword, but it is not in his hand.It is in his mouth.His only weapon is his word.And the primary picture of Jesus in Revelation is a lamb that has been slain.So if I ever meet pastor Driscoll, I’d like to ask him if his picture of Jesus is an accurate one, or simply what he wants Jesus to be like.
We’ve got a picture of Jesus painted for us by Luke this morning.As Jesus travels, he journeys to a town called Nain.When he arrives, he encounters a funeral procession, and it is the funeral of a widow’s only son.This is not a bit of stray information.It is critical for understanding what happens.In Jesus’ day, women had little legal standing, and they were extremely vulnerable without a male to provide for them and protect them.A widow without male children was at grave risk of quickly becoming destitute.
A lot of people hear this story about Jesus and hear a story about his power, a power so great he raises a man from the dead.But Luke tells the story so that it focuses on something else.After telling us that the dead man’s mother is a widow with no other male children, Luke writes, When the Lord saw her, he had compassion for her and said to her, “Do not weep.”And after Jesus raises the man Luke tells us …and Jesus gave him to his mother.
Based on this story, what is Jesus like?And if Jesus is indeed God in the flesh, based on this story, what is God like?Does God see someone who is suffering, whose life is in jeopardy, and simply respond out of warmth and compassion?Wouldn’t God first ask for her religious credentials?Wouldn’t God want to know if her theology was straight?
And if we decide that this is a true picture of what God is like, what does that say about what God’s people should be like?Should we act in ways that demonstrate God’s compassion?Or should we be more concerned that they get their theology straight, get the right beliefs in the right order?
Answering such questions requires deciding if this picture of Jesus and God is a truer one than prize-fighter Jesus looking to make someone bleed, or than divine-judge God whose primary concern is whether or not someone gets into heaven, or than any number of other images of God that are floating around.
What is God like?And once you answer that question, what does a church gathered around this God look like?I know that some people find such questions a bit unsettling.They imply that we’re not sure about the answers, or worse, that our answers could be wrong.But I think it is critically important we ask ourselves such questions.Is Christianity primarily about what happens to you after you die?Or is it supposed to be just as concerned about what is going on in the world, in our lives, right now?
In the story Luke tells today, Jesus seems mostly focused on insuring that a widow’s earthly life is secure and safe.He seems deeply moved by concrete concerns for her day to day life.And this is hardly an exceptional case.The Bible, both Old and New Testament is filled with God’s care and concern for earthly life, for creation and people and communities.And while God’s care and concern and love extends beyond death, I think it a terrible misreading of the Bible to view faith is primarily concerned with what happens to souls after death.When I read the Bible I find a God who wants to transform our lives now, to meet us in our everyday lives so that we might help show the world God’s compassion, God’s hope and desire that we might live in peace and security, in love and community, in a world where swords are beaten into plowshares, where tanks and bombers are melted down for tractors and combines.
What is God like?What sort of church would do justice to the God we meet in Jesus?And where is Jesus calling you to help show the world this God?
Last night on the Colbert Report, the intrepid host interviewed Lisa Miller about her new book entitled, Heaven: Our Enduring Fascination with the Afterlife. She noted that most Americans believe in heaven but few of them have a very well defined sense of what that means. In fact, most notions of heaven are cobbled together from a variety of sources, with very little reference to the Bible or any other sacred texts.
"For the fate of humans and the fate of animals is the same; as one dies, so dies the other. They all have the same breath, and humans have no advantage over the animals; for all is vanity. All go to one place; all are from the dust, and all turn to dust again. Who knows whether the human spirit goes upward and the spirit of animals goes downward to the earth? So I saw that there is nothing better than that all should enjoy their work, for that is their lot; who can bring them to see what will be after them?"
I know a lot of Christians who might find these words troublesome, even offensive. But of course they are from the Bible, today's reading from Ecclesiastes. They are perhaps even more offensive when you realize that the word "spirit" doesn't describe what most of us mean by the word. There is no immortal soul here. Rather it describes the essence of life, including the bodily part.
It startles many people to discover that the Bible nowhere speaks of people going to heaven when they die. (Paradise, mentioned by Jesus from the cross, is not the same as heaven.) The first Christians were terribly concerned about fellow believers who died before Jesus' return, worried that they had missed out on the Kingdom. The Apostle Paul reassures them that when Jesus returns, the dead will be raised. But in the meantime, they are dead.
Going to heaven when you die is one of those places where Christian belief got merged with Greek ideas about immortal souls - another idea not found in the Bible. And if one of the most deeply held beliefs of many Christians isn't actually biblical, what other places have we gotten way off track?
Today the lectionary continues reading from Paul's letter the the congregation in Galatia. You get some idea of how intense the conflict was over whether or not people had to become Jewish in order to be Christian. Paul says that he had to stand up to Peter (here called Cephas) over the issue. Paul also tells how the conflict divided him from his missionary partner, Barnabas.
Living a long way and a long time from this conflict, it is hard for us to see how bitter it was, and how its outcome was uncertain. More than a few New Testament scholars think that Paul's eventual arrest and execution is orchestrated by Jewish Christians who thought Paul was perverting the faith.
I take some small measure of comfort in knowing that the terrible conflicts in the first century Church did not produce the faith's demise. In fact, the Church grew dramatically in this period. I also find myself warned about being overly certain regarding my theology or doctrines. Paul's view, one that many Christians today think of as the gold standard, was rejected by the majority of Christians and the Church leadership in Jerusalem and Antioch during Paul's lifetime. I wonder what certainties of mine, what structures I view as sacrosanct, will be long dismissed by Christians centuries from now.
Paul is "defending" himself in today's reading from Galatians. When you read Paul's letters, it is clear than many of the first Christians were not very happy with him. He was baptizing Christians without requiring them to be circumcised and become Jewish first. Quite understandably, those first Christians assumed that the faith emerging because the Jewish Messiah had died and been raised was a Jewish faith. How could it not be? And so Paul's activities didn't fit with their understanding of the faith. These new, Gentile converts were welcome, but only if they became Jewish.
In a similar fashion, the people of Nazareth in today's gospel are astounded at the power and wisdom they see in Jesus, but they simply cannot fit that into their already fixed view of things. They know who he is, where he comes from, who his family is. "And they took offense at him."
In the Greek language of the New Testament, the word translated "took offense" is the root of our word "scandalize." It literally means "to cause one to stumble." The folks in Nazareth stumbled over their preconceived picture of Jesus just as many of the first Christians stumbled over their preconceived picture of Jesus' followers having to be Jewish.
All of us have preconceived notions of what it means to be Christian, to be good and faithful. Many of these are likely reasonable and understandable notions. Many of them may be correct. But good, religious folks just like you and me rejected Jesus and tried to stop Paul because of their reasonable and understandable, preconceived notions. I wonder which of mine are tripping me up and causing me to stumble.
Today is Trinity Sunday, and pastors everywhere are grappling with this often neglected doctrine of the Church. 1 + 1 + 1 = 1, God in three persons, blessed Trinity. The Trinity is one of those Christian ideas that gets a lot of lip service but, it seems to me, not much thought during most of the year. A lot of people, even a lot of pastors, seem to view it as a doctrine we'd be fine without.
But I can't imagine faith without it. While the doctrine evades complete comprehension, I find that a good thing. Surely God is beyond my comprehension, and so it seems appropriate that a doctrine about God's nature would be a little hard to get your mind around. Also, the notion of the Trinity keeps at bay some popular misconceptions about God. God created humans because God would be lonely without us? Not according to the Trinity. Relationship already is a part of God. You like to picture God as one who makes simple rules, and then rewards and punishes according how well people keep them? Not according to the Trinity. If Jesus is truly God, then all those words about loving neighbor and forgiving and praying for your enemy are actually God's words. Think God is simply the Father? Not according to the Trinity. The Father is God, but Father no more defines and says all there is to say about God than does Son or Spirit. It isn't "Father-God" and a couple of junior partners who joined the game late.
The only complaint I have with the Trinity, and with Trinity Sunday, is the way we pastors drag out trite little formulas and analogies that try to make the Trinity "understandable." I think we'd do better to claim its mystery and recognize that it expresses something beyond understanding.
"Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light." I have to confess that I've always had some difficulty knowing how to reconcile these words with other things Jesus says about denying self and taking up the cross, about us needing a righteousness that exceeds that of the Pharisees, and so on.
Jesus tells us a number of times that doing God's will can be very difficult, so how can his yoke be easy? I don't know how certain I am about this, but I think Jesus draws a contrast between living in the ways that lead to true humanity, that help us become what we were created to be, compared to being religious for religiousness sake. The fact that Matthew immediately reports an argument about Jesus' disciples plucking grain on the Sabbath followed by a dispute over Jesus healing someone on the Sabbath seems to support this view.
So what's the difference between being religious for religiousness sake and living in ways that help us become what God intends us to be? I suspect that a great deal of current religious debate and controversy spring from differing answers to this question. If nothing else, that probably argues for a low level of certainty and arrogance regarding my own answer to the question.
I grew up in North and South Carolina. And although the Presbyterian churches of my childhood weren't all that Southern in feel, I had plenty of encounters with the church patterns of Southern Baptists, Methodists, Pentecostals, and so on. These included prayers liberally sprinkled with the word "just" and Jesus pronounced with three or four syllables. Sometimes this all came together in the faith profession, "We just love Jesus!"
In the congregations I attended, people didn't talk so much about loving Jesus, though I presume most folks there did. So was this just a style difference between us and our fellow Christians from other denominations? Is it like the differences between happily married couples, some who can't go five minutes without saying, "I love you," and others who rarely speak the words but seem to care deeply for each other?
'By this we know that we love the children of God, when we love God and obey his commandments. For the love of God is this, that we obey his commandments." 1 John talks a lot about love, about God being love and about us loving God, about the relationship we have with God through Jesus. Sometimes Christians can talk about their connection to God in language that sounds more a contract or formula than a relationship. Believe the right things and get the goodies. But love can't ever be reduced to a contract or a formula.
What does it look like to love God? On the flip side, what does it mean that God loves us? Love seems to me more a dance than a formula, with each party moving and the other responding. So what does it mean to dance with God?
Many Christians are familiar with some of the lines in today's reading from 1 John. "Beloved, let us love one another, because love is from God; everyone who loves is born of God and knows God... God is love, and those who abide in love abide in God, and God abides in them... Those who say, 'I love God,' and hate their brothers or sisters, are liars; for those who do not love a brother or sister whom they have seen, cannot love God whom they have not seen."
Given our familiarity with such words, it is somewhat disconcerting how easy many of us find it to dislike and hate others. Most everyone has heard examples of the terrible things committed in the name of religion, from the Crusades to burning "witches" at the stake to the group who protests at military funerals, claiming these soldiers' deaths are God's punishment because "God hates fags."
But beyond these sort of examples, I'm thinking more of the type I'm likely to engage in. When there are disagreements in congregations or in the denomination, the fighting can get nasty, with little evidence of love on either side. And it is all too easy to find myself thinking the absolute worst of those who disagree with me. It's an easy progression from they're wrong, to they're stubborn, to they're stupid, to I don't like them, to they're evil, to I hate them.
How do we love one another when we disagree, especially if we disagree about things we think are critically important? There is certainly no easy answer, but Jesus never said that following him was easy. He talked of taking up a cross. And it seems to me that learning to love one another while disagreeing might well be the most powerful witness the Church could make to the world about what it means to be people of God.
I'm not sure why, but I've decided to call my thoughts on the lectionary readings "Spiritual hiccups." I suppose that's closer to what they really are, things that pop up after I've looked at the readings for the day.
