John 9:1-7; 1:1-5,14; 1 Corinthians 12:27
Christian Identity: God’s Touch
James Sledge April 3, 2011
Surely there cannot be anyone here this morning who has not seen the horrific images from Japan of the earthquake and tsunami. The videos of water inundating towns and wiping them from the face of the earth are truly awful. Thirty years ago we would have heard about the tsunami and later seen some news photos and footage, but in a day when everyone’s cell phone has a video camera, the terror of such an event is there for all to see.
The terrifying images from Japan are difficult to make sense of; entire villages destroyed, children washed away from school classrooms. It’s frightening to think this could just happen, with no reason, and perhaps that accounts for the need of some people to explain the events, to place blame. Fox commentator Glenn Beck seemed to suggest that God’s anger with radical Islam was somehow to blame. A number of internet posts suggested that the earthquake was karma, payback for the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor in 1941. Who knew that karma held grudges for so long. And others suggested that global warming had set off the quake.
It is tempting to come up with some sort of explanation for disasters. We want our world to be predictable. We want life to be “fair.” And without an explanation it isn’t, and that is frightening.
Wanting to know why is nothing new. Large sections of the Bible try to make sense of pain and suffering, though different texts come to very different answers.
The Old Testament book of Deuteronomy lays out a straightforward theology of blessing and curse. Obey the Law, and things will go well. Don’t, and face the consequences. Such theology is attractive in its simplicity. But of course we all know of cases where life just doesn’t work this way.The Bible knows them, too. The book of Job raises a voice of protest against the simplistic theology of Deuteronomy. Job suffers through no fault of his own, and contrary to his popular image, Job’s patience quickly runs out. The bulk of the book features Job arguing with “friends” who try to convince him to take the view of Deuteronomy. They say he must have done something to deserve the horrors that have befallen him. But Job insists he has not, and in the end, God blasts Job’s friends for their bad theology.
The question of why there is suffering also shows up in our gospel for today. Jesus’ disciples see a man born blind and ask, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” Apparently the disciples prefer Deuteronomy to Job.
But Jesus rejects their assumption of blame. What blame Jesus assigns belongs to God, although I don’t know that Jesus is really trying to explain how it was the man was born blind. His focus seems to be that “God’s works might be revealed in him.”
Now I’m hoping that Jesus didn’t say what he did in earshot of that blind fellow. I can’t think of anything less pastoral than saying to someone, “God caused your suffering…” or, “God allowed your suffering so that it would provide an opportunity for great things to be done.” Imagine saying to some survivor in Japan, “God let this happen so there would be a chance for people to show God’s love to survivors like you.”
The fact is that the Bible leaves us with no clear-cut, definitive answers about the cause of terrible suffering. I’ll admit that I sometimes get quite perturbed with God about this. I don’t fully comprehend why there are not better answers, but absent these answers, the question shifts to how we are to respond in the face of such suffering. And here Jesus is abundantly clear. Such moments are opportunities for God’s touch and God’s healing. In the face of unexplainable suffering, those who are “in Christ” are called not to assign blame, but to extend God’s care and God’s love.
One of the most basic Christian affirmations, one that most of us have heard and likely agreed with, is nonetheless a difficult one to embrace: the notion that the fullness of God was able to dwell in the person of Jesus. The Word became flesh and lived among us.
One of the first big theological debates in the Church, way back in the 300s, was over the nature of Jesus. Was he really human? Was he really God? And how could he possibly be both? God and humanity seem totally incompatible. God is infinite, limitless, everywhere in every time and place. Humans are finite, limited to where our bodies can take us and what we can perceive with our limited senses. How could an infinite, limitless God become a finite, limited human being?
And despite the fact that the early Church settled this debate, declaring that Jesus was indeed fully human, fully divine, we still can’t quite believe it, can’t quite accept it. Can the fullest picture we have of the eternal, almighty God really be this broken, crucified one? Can a crucified Jesus, the epitome of weakness, really be the fullest expression of God’s power? And even more difficult to accept than God incarnate in Jesus is God incarnate in us. Can broken people like us really be the living body of Christ in the world, God’s healing touch?
I want to ask you to do something a bit odd for Sunday worship here. I want you to touch someone seated near you. Don’t worry, you don’t have to hold hands or embrace, but I do want you to touch. According to our faith, human touch is capable of bearing the divine. Your touch could be the presence of God to someone who desperately needs it, and your neighbor’s touch could be the touch of God that you desperately need.
And yet routinely, individual Christians and congregations say, “This may be so, but not through me, not through my congregation.” Humanity may be capable of bearing the divine touch, but not this human, not this congregation. Often I hear church members and pastors who wish it were so for them or their congregation. Pastors sometimes pine for “better” congregations where God’s presence will be more evident. Church members also sometimes judge their congregations as lacking and wish they could be more like some other congregation. Maybe this incarnation business works with other folks, people of deeper, more learned, more impressive faith, but surely not in everyday folks like us.
You probably noticed the prayers shawls and lap robes draped in the sanctuary today, there so that we may add our prayers to those of the people who knitted and crocheted them. I once spoke with someone who had received a prayer shawl following surgery. This person became emotional speaking of getting that shawl, saying how she truly felt people’s prayers and God’s presence, really experienced God’s touch in the work and prayers of some of you.
As a pastor, I rarely have adequate answers for tragic suffering and loss, whether it be a terrible accident or illness in our own community or the mind-boggling events in Japan. And even if I had the perfect answer, I can’t imagine it would be of much comfort to those whose lives have been shattered by such events. As badly as they might want answers, the only real comfort would be an embrace, an act of love and kindness, God’s healing touch.
And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.
Now you are the body of Christ and individually members of it.
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