I want to begin by saying "It's one of the toughest passages in the Bible theologically" but I feel like we say that so much it has become trite. But yet, the story of God demanding Abraham to sacrifice his son Isaac truly is a bear. Preach on it at your own peril. Bring it up in a Bible Study only if you dare. The safest bet with a story like this is to just stay away.
But yet, there it is. Of all the words about God that have not been canonized, this one has. And it was only in reading Hans Urs Von Balthasar's classic Mysterium Paschale that I was struck by the beauty of this passage. To convince you that there is beauty to be found within this passage, I'll have to do some explaining.
First, the objections. On the surface this story isn't very pretty. Let's synopsize. When God makes a covenant with Abram, the sign and promise of the covenant is that Abram and his wife (though real old) will have a son. Eventually they do have the child, named Isaac. When the time our particular story picks up, Abram is now called Abraham and Isaac has grown up a bit. The story begins, "After these things, God tested Abraham." Already we are theologically uncomfortable. "God testing" is typically something we reserve for bad conservative theology, a fundamentalist notion that hardly renders the image of God unequivocally pro nobis.
But God nevertheless decides to test Abraham and says to him, "Take your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah and offer him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains that I shall show you." As modern people we read this and say, "Well that's just messed up." God asks Abraham to kill Isaac, the only son, the son of the covenant, the promise. God even admits that this son is one whom Abraham loves. Our modern sensibilities cannot fathom this request. Remember this point, we'll come back to it in a minute.
Abraham arises early the next day and takes Isaac up the mountain. Notice that Sarah, Isaac's mother, is mentioned no where in this story. They go to the base of the mountain and leave behind the servant, while Isaac is forced to carry the wood for the fire that will consume him. Isaac asks, as I'm sure any curious child would, "I see we have the wood and fire for the sacrifice, but where is the lamb?" Abraham simply replies, "The Lord will provide." They get to the top of the mountain and all the preparations are made. Isaac is placed upon the altar and Abraham raises a knife in the air ready to sacrifice his son. Then, at the final moment, God stays Abraham's hand and provides a ram to be sacrificed in Isaac's place. Abraham and Isaac return down the mountain and this incident is never mentioned again.
We read this story as modern people and are appalled that God would require such a sacrifice. We read the story and are more relieved than joyful when God stays Abraham's hand. But what if we read this story as ancient people? What if we read this story with the same reactions and surprises that people would have when the story was first written? If we lived in a society that tolerated human sacrifice, that saw human sacrifice as necessary to please the gods, then we might not be so sickened by the notion that a god might require a servant to sacrifice a son. If we lived in a society that would see the first half of the story as the norm and the end of the story as grace, what might this story do to transform the image of God we have in our hearts and minds?
But what if we went beyond that? What if we went beyond reading it in light of ancient culture and practice? What if we went beyond trying to read it withing a culture we don't live in or have any recollection of? What if we read it in terms of something more important than history, sociology, and anthropology? What if we read it in light of the action that is central to reality, the universe, and our lives as Christians? What if we read it in light of the story of Jesus Christ?
This is where Balthasar comes in. In Mysterium Paschale, he writes a section on the surrender of Christ, the handing over of Christ into the hands of sinners. This comes during a chapter that looks in great detail at the theological complexity of the events that happened on Maundy Thursday and Good Friday. As Christ is handed over into the hands of the Romans for the rest of the passion narrative to unfold, Balthasar sees something else going on. At first he notes that in every instance in the Old Testament, God is the primary actor whenever anyone is handed over to another person or group of people. Continuing this theme and layering the Biblical narrative with Trinitarian theology, he writes, "From this point there arises the Trinitarian theme which develops in three forms: God the Father hands over his Son, thanks to his love for us, but it is also due to Christ's love for us, in such a way that in Christ's gratuitous self-gift the Father's unconditional love becomes plain" (111). In essence, what we see going on when looking from a Trinitarian perspective is that God the Father hands over his beloved Son into the hands of humanity out of God's love for humanity. The Son, in perfect obedience to the Father and out of love for humanity, obliges the Father in this action. And as we know, humanity then kills the Son.
Let us now return to the story of Abraham, Isaac, God and sacrifice. In this story, we see the exact same thing. Abraham hands over his son, Isaac, to God out of love for God. Isaac, out of love for his father and for God, obliges. The result here is different: God spares Isaac, Abraham's son.
Abraham hands over his son Isaac to God and Isaac lives. God hands God's son (Jesus) over to humanity and Jesus dies.
Now let's throw one last thing in the mix because I'm also reading God's Companions by Sam Wells. In discussing baptism, Sam Wells talks about the stripping and dying to self that occurs in baptism. There has always been an element of baptism that involves dying to self and being incorporated into Christ's death so that we might be incorporated into Christ's resurrection and new life. If that is so, then every baby whom we baptize is handed over to God. Every baby whom we baptize goes through the same process Isaac went through. Sure, we don't use knives or come anywhere close to killing a child. But if we actually believe the metaphors we use for baptism, then to talk about death with respect to baptism puts the person baptized in the position of Isaac. We hand over the baby to God.
A vindictive God might do to the child exactly as we have done to God's son. A vindictive omniscient God might have done to Isaac exactly what we would do to God's son. But that is not the God we serve.
Instead, our God forgives. Instead, our God reaches out in grace. Instead, our God works to save even those people that would murder His son.
Which is precisely why we hand over our children to such a God. We hand over our children to that God because we know our children are better off in His hands than they are in humanity's.
So instead of reading this story, the story of Abraham and Isaac and sacrifice, as a story of a blood thirsty God testing his helpless servant, let us instead read it as an incredible story of a God who refuses to do to us what we have done to Him. Let us instead read it and be transformed by the incredible love and grace shown towards us in the face of our shame and guilt. And as we approach Holy Week, let us remember who we are before God: the one who killed His son.
Jesus was handed over to us. As we remember and relive exactly what we did to him, let us be brought not just to a place of guilt and sorrow, but also to a place of awe and wonder about the love God has for us that he can endure such betrayal and respond, "I love you."
Friday, March 30, 2012
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
What's the Story (Morning Glory)? A Sermon
Text: John 3:14-21
Here’s something you’re going to wish you didn’t know about me: I am a huge fan of the hit reality TV show The Bachelor. I don’t just mean I watch the show, as if that wasn’t bad enough. My family and I have games and leagues and drafts about this show. I watch every episode. I talk about it weekly. It’s sad.
But one of the things that truly fascinates me about this show is the way the show is able to define people. Contestants that go on the show are given an identity by the way the producers and editors shape the show’s narrative. Each year of the show there are certain character types. There’s the girl next door, the girl seeking redemption, the bad boy with a good heart, etc. etc. etc. And every year someone plays the role of the villain. And whereas with the other sweet and charming character types where people will love them for 10 minutes and forget them in a week, with the villain the hatred remains. Ask anyone who watches the Bachelor what they think of Vienna or Bentley or Courtney and you will get visceral reactions.
The thing about this that fascinates me is that we know nothing about these people. We’ve never met them, we’ve never seen them, we’ve never had any interactions with them. But yet we have clear opinions about these people based solely on what we see on television. And while it is dubbed reality tv, it is producers and editors mediating what we as viewers see. These editors and producers have determined these person’s narratives, their stories, and we buy it. We hate people based on the story someone else tells us about them.
Now all of you that tuned out at the first mention of the Bachelor can come back. I’m about to talk about Jesus, now.
John 3:16. Probably the most famous verse in all of the Bible. Words of comfort. Words of hope. For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son that whoever believed in him would not perish but have eternal life. I remember memorizing this as a child. I remember not knowing what it meant, but knowing it was important.
There’s another image from my childhood I have of this verse. One day the preacher preached on this passage of John. As I walked into Big Church that day to acolyte, I saw two huge banners hung on either side of the cross. One read John 3:16, like what’s popular at sporting events. The other was done in a similar style and read John 3:19. The preacher talked about how we see signs for John 3:16 all the time at sporting events. And why wouldn’t we? It’s a profound verse of hope and love. But we don’t often see signs for John 3:19. That’s not a verse we memorize. That’s not a verse we like to bring up. Because it’s kind of a downer.
And this is the judgment: that the light has come into the world, and the people loved darkness rather than light because their deeds were evil.
John 3:16. John 3:19. For God so loved the world. And this is the judgment. That he gave his only son. That the light has come into the world. That whoever believes in him will not perish, but have eternal life. The people loved darkness rather than life because their deeds are evil.
What we have here are competing notions, competing worldviews, competing stories. And which one is it? What’s the story? Is the world beloved by God? Is the world saved by the coming of Jesus Christ, the Messiah, the Son? Or is the world judged? Is the world dark? Are we ultimately evil people who will destroy ourselves? What is it? What’s the story?
That’s the big question isn’t it. And there’s plenty of evidence for each. We live in a world where we see love. We live in a world where we see hope. We live in a world where we see joy. And from time to time we can look at the world and see that it is beloved by God, we can see that the love of Christ has come into the world, and that the world is being saved. It’s like the opening lines of Love, Actually, “Whenever I get gloomy with the state of the world, I think about the arrivals gate at Heathrow Airport. General opinion's starting to make out that we live in a world of hatred and greed, but I don't see that. It seems to me that love is everywhere. Often, it's not particularly dignified or newsworthy, but it's always there.” Each of us can think of a place where we see love, where we see evidence of Christ’s love being in the world and being reflected all around. Maybe its in the selfless teachers or social workers. Maybe its in your friends or neighbors. Maybe its in your family. Maybe its in news stories of sacrifice and altruism. Maybe its in all of these things and more. But we all know there is goodness, there is hope, there is love in this world. We all know that God does love this world and God is in this world making it better for us all.
But we also see the darkness. We also see the hatred. We also see places where it seems as if hope is a foolish thing. We watch CEOs and big businessmen steal pension money and take on bad risk that bankrupts companies and our economy. We watch politicians become corrupt as power and greed gain more control over them. We watch women and children die in genocide and war. We see homeless people beg for basic necessity. We see good people conned and swindled. Even as we cry out for justice, even as we cry out for these evils to cease, we confront this same evil, hatred, and greed in ourselves. We lie, we cheat, we steal. And this is the judgment: that the light has come into the world, and the people love darkness rather than light because our deeds are evil.
So which is it? What’s the story? We look around and see hope. We look around and see evil. But my brothers and sisters we gather here this morning on this day and in this place to hear this good news: God loves the world. That is it. That is the story. God loves the world.
And because God loves the world, there is hope. Because God loves the world we have a future. Because God loves the world we have been reached out to, claimed, and loved by God in Jesus Christ. Because God loves the world we can talk about and hope for a time when death, sin, hatred, evil, and darkness will be no more. Because God loves the world we can believe.
That’s the Christian story. That’s the story we come here today to hear and proclaim. That’s the Gospel.
You have a choice this morning. Unlike the contestants on the Bachelor who have no control over the story the show will tell about them, you have a choice. You can choose your story. You can choose how you view yourself, how you view the world, how you view God.
So what is your story? Has the light come into the world to judge the world? Does the world live in darkness? Do hate, evil, and sin win the day? Do we love the darkness because our deeds are evil? Is that the story?
Or is the story something else? Is the world loved by God? Is the world saved by God in Jesus Christ? Have you come to believe that the light has come into the world and the darkness cannot stand against it? Have you come to believe that God loves the world and that simple fact makes all the difference?
So what’s the story? And, even better, how are you living your story? How does the story shape you? How does the story change your life? Because it is our life and our actions that truly reveal which story we have chosen, which story we believe.
On Saturday April 14th, you’ll have a chance to live your story. On Saturday April 14th, not even a full week after Easter, you’ll have the chance to make your faith a reality. Here at the church we will have our semi-annual blood drive. You can live your story, you can love the world. You can give blood. Also on Saturday April 14th, for those of you that cannot give blood, there will be another mission opportunity. The Missions Team has voted to partner with St. Matthew’s UMC in their Family Community Service Day, the principle part of which is a potato drop. 46,000 pounds of potatoes will be delivered to St. Matthew’s parking lot and they’ll need to be bagged. These potatoes will go to food banks in our area and will give a meal to those begging for basic necessity. 46,000 pounds is a lot of potatoes. We’ll need your help. You can live your story, you can love the world. You can give your time.
God loves the world. God loves the world so much that he gave his only son. If you believe that, if that is your story, then you too must love the world. You must join in, you must love the world along with God.
Usually I end my sermons with a pointed question and let the silence hang for a moment. But this morning I want to end with a declarative statement. Because we live in a world of love and hatred, of hope and despair, of joy and sorrow. And because we live in a world of paradox and dichotomy we can become confused and cynical. We can begin to question what’s going on, we can begin to wonder what the story really is. So I don’t need to end with a question because when you leave here today the world will have plenty of questions for you. But my brothers and sisters, hear this word, this statement, and take this word, this statement, with you as you leave this place: God loves the world. And you should too.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Silent Christianity?
Something I wrote for my church's newsletter...
Recently I read a book by Duke professor Stanley Hauerwas called Working with Words: On Learning to Speak Christian. The book is a collection of essays, sermons, and speeches Hauerwas has given over the past few years that, while written on many different topics, attempt to make a coherent point. The point is this: Christianity is a language.
Hauerwas argues that Christians are people learning to speak a new language. We learn to speak this new language as we learn the tenets of our faith. We learn to speak this new language as we read Scripture and the great theology of the past. We learn to speak this new language as we come to worship and say the liturgy. Hauerwas argues that the Christian life is first and foremost learning how to speak.
And as we learn this language and learn to speak this language, we are transformed. As we learn how to speak of Jesus Christ, God made flesh out of love for us, we learn what love means. And as we learn what love means, we become people of love. As we learn the stories of the Apostles and their total devotion to the mission of Christ, we learn what faith means. As we learn what faith means, we become people of faith who are able to live lives of faith. We think because we read. We speak because we think. We do because we speak. This, for Hauerwas, is the Christian life.
As a theology nerd, I love it. It gives me a great excuse (as if I needed an excuse…) to read big, thick, nerdy theology books that no one else would ever want to read (Mysterium Paschale anyone?). But there is a part of me that struggles with it because I also saw the movie The Artist this year. For those of you that haven’t yet seen this year’s Best Picture, it’s a silent film. It’s a brilliant, moving, emotional story about a silent movie actor during the transition from the silent film era to ‘talkies’. It tells of both the anxiety and the excitement of that era. It tells a love story. It tells one man’s Ulysses’ like Odyssey to find peace, fulfillment, and hope as his world is literally crashing down upon him. It tells all these stories, yet uses no words.
As I was walking out of the theatre, my mind turned back to Hauerwas’ book (no, seriously, it did; I’m that nerdy). Do we need to be able to speak Christian in order to live a Christian life? Or can we have a “silent Christianity” that loves others, honors God, and seeks to live in peace? Ultimately, however, I’m not convinced we can separate them. Why not have both?! It is my hope that during this Lent you will be able to take an opportunity to learn more of the Christian language. It is my hope that during this Lent you will be engage in concrete acts of mercy and charity. And it is my hope that during this Lent you will discover that the two (learning and doing, theology and mercy, speech and action) are inseparable.
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