This was preached on Feb 24, 2013. I'm planning on preaching during Lent about the various ways to understand the atonement. This is is the Classic or Victory theory.
This sermon is, I heard, almost entirely theological and not very entertaining. If you are into that sort of thing - here it is:
Text: I Cor. 1:18 ff
Purpose of Lent: To ready our hearts and minds to enter into the events of Holy Week and Easter - so that we might experience the power of the death and resurrection of Christ to change lives and indeed, to change the world.
The cross is the central symbol of Christianity. Look around the sanctuary. Think about all the places we see crosses: On steeples, signs for churches, around Christian’s necks, as body art, on T-shirts. We make the sign of the cross on Ash Wednesday and every time we baptize, or anoint someone to remind them of baptism. Many Christians, even Protestants, make the sign of the cross as a part of prayer.
Yet our understanding of the cross is not always very deep. Imagine trying to explain to an alien, or to a very persistent and intelligent child why the cross is so central to us. It is a symbol of a torture device, used to humiliate, inflict pain, execute and terrorize. Why is that a central symbol of our faith?
If we get past our familiarity with it, the cross is a jarring, stark reminder of the shocking way God in Jesus Christ entered and left our world. And I’m convinced that as we grow in our relationship with God through Jesus Christ, eventually we have to face the cross and try to understand two things:
what God was doing, letting his precious Son our Savior die that way?
What does it mean to belong to a community built around the cross?
Now, you’d think that after 2000 years, these questions would be all figured out. That there would be an answer and I could stand up here and preach it, or give you a book to read it, or even a youtube video we could all watch together. But God is a funny guy. He seems to have arranged it so that knowing him has more to do with struggling with profound questions than with having a firm grip on pat answers.
Christians have, from the very first, struggled to make sense of the cross. We’ve agreed that the cross is essential to Christ’s work of “atonement” - of saving us, or reconciling us, or making a new life with God possible for us.
At-one-ment is an interesting word. One of the few theological words that actually has an English root - it means “At-One-Ment” or bringing what was broken apart back together. We affirm that Jesus’ death on the cross was crucial to fixing whatever was broken between us and God.
One way to understand that is that in his death, Christ won a giant victory over the power of death.
The reading from 1 Corinthians focuses attention on the cross as the power of Christ: "For the word, of the cross is folly to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God" (RSV).
Seeing atonement as victory is rooted in the Gospel of John’s imagery of darkness and light. The light shines in the darkness and the darkness does not overcome it. There is a struggle between the forces of darkness and the forces of light.
There are a couple of things that give us pause about this way to understand the cross: One is that it seems like it’s based on a dualistic view of the world, in which two roughly equal powers vie for supremacy. If God is good, and God created the world, then where did all that evil come from? The answer to that gets a little messy and hard to swallow.
And the second drawback to this view is that it is about good and evil, light and dark, black and white. And the world just isn’t that way. It’s mostly shades of grey. There is so much good in the worst of people and so much bad in the best . . . Even situations where it seems obvious who is right and who is wrong . . . people are doing things they THINK are right and good. They may be mistaken, but nobody sets out to do the wrong thing.
Much of being a grown up is understanding that. And surely God understands it better than any of us. What evil could be defeated without also stamping out the good that grows entwined around it? Didn’t Jesus say, “Father, forgive them, they know not what they do?”
Nonetheless - there is a lot about this view that commends it. This view takes seriously the darkness and evil of sin and death. It recognizes that much of what goes on in this world is the product of forces which would crush beauty, creativity, love and life. And we cannot take a long unblinking look at the world around us without seeing the darkness that often corrupts the human heart. Mass killings. War. Child abuse and neglect. Violence against those who are different. It’s a dark world out there.
And we know how prone we are to participating in the darkness: How satisfying a cruel comment can be. How easy it is to ignore a pain that we could fix. How “worth it” it seems to inflict damage on someone else’s property, or to damage creation itself, for a little extra profit or to save some time.
This is what sin is - the darkness that wraps it’s stinking hands around our hearts and squeezes the life out of our ability to love and care for one another.
But Christ, by dying on the Cross, confronts that power of sin and hatred and death head on. Only Christ - because he is God - is strong enough to enter into the cosmic battle against evil. And only Christ is strong and good enough to defeat evil. By going to evil’s home court - the cross is a torture device that kills its victims - there’s nothing MORE evil than the cross - Jesus gives death every opportunity to win. But the power he displays on the cross is the power to enter into death and then come out victorious on the other side.
Peter’s first sermon: "This Jesus, delivered up according to the definite plan and foreknowledge of God, you crucified and killed by the hands of lawless men. But God raised him up, having loosed the pangs of death, because it was not possible for him to be held by it" (Acts 2:23-24).
The cross’ meaning is only made clear in the resurrection. But once it is clear that Jesus who died lives again, we can see the cross as the final battle that proves once and for all which is stronger.
God overcomes the power of darkness.
Love wins over hate.
Life is more powerful than death.
The most ringing statement of this view of the atonement is Paul’s. (Which I love and use at every funeral I do.) "‘Death is swallowed up in victory.’ ‘0 death, where is thy victory? 0 death, where is thy sting?’ The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ" (1 Cor. 15:54-57).
To live as Christians is to live in the midst of a world where darkness and sin still vie for control over lives and hearts - but live knowing that we need not be defeated by those evil powers. That we share in the victory over these things. So even when we see their awful force, we have courage to stand against them, knowing that God will not let them extinguish us utterly.
This understanding of the cross invites us say with St. Paul in the face of every trial and difficulty, "No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us . . . Christ Jesus our Lord" (Rom. 8:37, 39).
Monday, February 25, 2013
Monday, February 11, 2013
A poem by Billy Collins
You are the bread and the knife,
The crystal goblet and the wine…
–Jacques Crickillon
“Litany”
You are the bread and the knife,
the crystal goblet and the wine.
You are the dew on the morning grass
and the burning wheel of the sun.
You are the white apron of the baker,
and the marsh birds suddenly in flight.
However, you are not the wind in the orchard,
the plums on the counter,
or the house of cards.
And you are certainly not the pine-scented air.
There is just no way that you are the pine-scented air.
It is possible that you are the fish under the bridge,
maybe even the pigeon on the general’s head,
but you are not even close
to being the field of cornflowers at dusk.
And a quick look in the mirror will show
that you are neither the boots in the corner
nor the boat asleep in its boathouse.
It might interest you to know,
speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,
that I am the sound of rain on the roof.
I also happen to be the shooting star,
the evening paper blowing down an alley
and the basket of chestnuts on the kitchen table.
I am also the moon in the trees
and the blind woman’s tea cup.
But don’t worry, I’m not the bread and the knife.
You are still the bread and the knife.
You will always be the bread and the knife,
not to mention the crystal goblet and–somehow–the wine.
Billy Collins, from Nine Horses: Poems
The crystal goblet and the wine…
–Jacques Crickillon
“Litany”
You are the bread and the knife,
the crystal goblet and the wine.
You are the dew on the morning grass
and the burning wheel of the sun.
You are the white apron of the baker,
and the marsh birds suddenly in flight.
However, you are not the wind in the orchard,
the plums on the counter,
or the house of cards.
And you are certainly not the pine-scented air.
There is just no way that you are the pine-scented air.
It is possible that you are the fish under the bridge,
maybe even the pigeon on the general’s head,
but you are not even close
to being the field of cornflowers at dusk.
And a quick look in the mirror will show
that you are neither the boots in the corner
nor the boat asleep in its boathouse.
It might interest you to know,
speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,
that I am the sound of rain on the roof.
I also happen to be the shooting star,
the evening paper blowing down an alley
and the basket of chestnuts on the kitchen table.
I am also the moon in the trees
and the blind woman’s tea cup.
But don’t worry, I’m not the bread and the knife.
You are still the bread and the knife.
You will always be the bread and the knife,
not to mention the crystal goblet and–somehow–the wine.
Billy Collins, from Nine Horses: Poems
Monday, February 4, 2013
Throwing out the trash
Yesterday, at 7 am, I quit trying to make the sermon work, threw it out and wrote a new one. Which was better. So today I wanted to put the new one on the blog, and found it is gone. That is, I threw out the old one, but my computer threw out the new one. Hmmmmm.
On FB: To Ray Lewis (football player who said of the SuperBowl, "When God is for you, who can be against you?") - Leave theology to the professionals. (Paul Rack)
On FB: To Ray Lewis (football player who said of the SuperBowl, "When God is for you, who can be against you?") - Leave theology to the professionals. (Paul Rack)
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Sermon Jan. 27
A Tale of Two Sermons
Jan 27, 2013
Luke 4:14-21
Nehemiah 8:1-10
One of my favorite all time songs is “Church” by Lyle Lovett. Do you remember it? I think I’ve shared it with you. It’s about everyone’s worst fear about a church service.
play video from 17 sec. to 127
What if the preacher decided to preach all day?
Well, our scripture lessons today, the old testament from Nehemiah and the New testament from Luke, are about a long sermon. And a very very short one. And I invite you to consider which congregation you feel called to join.
Would you like to be part of the crowd, gathered across from the Water Gate, when Ezra read the scriptures from early in the morning until mid day? Before you say “no” consider this:
The people gathered that day had never heard these stories. They had been exiled. Generations had been born, lived and died in a foreign land. Their sacred writings had been lost, left behind, and largely forgotten. They were a people without the collective memory of who God was to them. Who they were to God. What God had done for them and what their relationship with God was supposed to look like. Now they were back in Jerusalem, trying to put their lives together again. But without the stories from their past . . . it was sort of hard. They had no agreement on what was most important, most urgent. They weren’t sure what they were making together would be meaningful and good.
Then, in the ruins of the old king’s palace, they found the scrolls that contained the Books of Moses - the Torah. And in it the collective memory that would serve as the basis for a renewed relationship with their God.
So they were all there, assembled before Ezra, who had a wooden pulpit and six liturgists on either side. When Ezra opened the first scroll, they stood up. When he said a little blessing, they answered “Amen. Amen” And they listened. They were attentive. They heard, many of them for the first time, the beautiful poetry of the Creation Story. They heard how humans did evil and violence and how God’s attempt to wash evil out of the world with the Great Flood. They heard about God’s promise to their ancestor Abraham, and how his wife Sarah laughed to think she’d be part of God’s history. They heard about Jacob, the trickster, and Joseph and his dreams. The stories of Egyptian captivity and then Moses and the Ten Commandments, wandering in the wilderness and then entering the Land. And these stories were their stories. That’s what the interpreters helped them understand.
That’s what it’s my job to help us understand when I stand up here and preach each Sunday. That the stories in this book are our collective memories - our ways of making sense of the deepest questions human beings can ask: Who am I? Why are we here? What makes life worth living?
The Bible is not a rule book. It has rules in it. But its not the rules that make the people weep.
The Bible is not a history book. Some things in it “really happened”. But there’s not a single book that was written so that we could have an accurate account of the PAST.
And the Bible is not a science book OR an anti-science book. The authors lived long before “science” had been invented. It’s up to something quite different.
It is up to incorporating us into God’s story,
in forming us, (forming our inward parts?)
involving us,
including us,
inspiring us to put our hope and trust in the one that won’t let us down.
It is the Bible that points us to the ONE whom we believe lived the hand’s down best story that has ever been told. The one that wraps up all the stories of the past and opens up the possibility of a beautiful future.
And when he comes - he gives a very short sermon.
According to Luke, Jesus public ministry was inaugurated with a sermon in the synagogue where he grew up, in Nazareth. And he chose his text carefully. They handed him the scroll of the prophet Isaiah, who had written as the people underwent dislocation and loss, grief and exile. Living as refugees in a foreign land, they wondered if God was through with them. But Isaiah assured them that God had plans for their future.
Jesus seized on that good news of God’s amazing future and read it out loud:
The spirit of the Lord is upon me and the Lord has chosen me -
To bring glad news to the poor
To announce freedom for those held captive
To make the blind see and the prisoner free
and to usher in the Jubilee.
It’s a great passage. Isaiah 62: 1-2, though Jesus had a different translation.
Then. He sat down. That was the sermonizing posture. The preacher sat. If I stay here long enough, we may revive that old custom.
Everybody in the congregation fixed their attention on the young man. And he gave the shortest, sweetest sermon ever:
Today. I just love that the first word of Jesus’ first recorded sermon is “today”. Not yesterday. Not tomorrow. Now then. Not soon. Not back in the day, or someday in the future. Now. Jesus claims today. Today is Jesus’ day. Now is Jesus’ time. Put him on your calendar, not tomorrow, not next week, not after the next Presidential election. Now is Jesus’ time, cause now is OUR time. I love that. Today.
Today this scripture promise has been fulfilled in your hearing.
I’m the one who will do these things. God’s got a hold of me, and He won’t let go until joy and freedom and clear vision are the marks of the people of God. Audacious of him, really! To say, “I’m the one who keeps the promise God makes to the world. I’m the way he keeps it. I’m the one.”
That is the central tenet of the Christian way: That Jesus is the one who shows us the way to live and die and live eternally. God’s way.
Eugene Peterson says, “Jesus is the way means he doesn’t just point out the way and then step aside and let us get there on our own as best we can. Jesus points out the say, then then takes the initiative, inviting us to go with him, taking us with him across land and sea, through all kinds of weather, avoiding dead ends and seductive byways, watching out for danger and alerting us to enemies.” (The Jesus Way, p. 36)
Jesus is the way God comes to us. And Jesus is the way we come to God.
That’s the essence of Jesus’ first and shortest sermon. No need for the preacher to keep on preaching.
To the Lord, let praises be! It’s time for dinner now let’s go eat.
Jan 27, 2013
Luke 4:14-21
Nehemiah 8:1-10
One of my favorite all time songs is “Church” by Lyle Lovett. Do you remember it? I think I’ve shared it with you. It’s about everyone’s worst fear about a church service.
play video from 17 sec. to 127
What if the preacher decided to preach all day?
Well, our scripture lessons today, the old testament from Nehemiah and the New testament from Luke, are about a long sermon. And a very very short one. And I invite you to consider which congregation you feel called to join.
Would you like to be part of the crowd, gathered across from the Water Gate, when Ezra read the scriptures from early in the morning until mid day? Before you say “no” consider this:
The people gathered that day had never heard these stories. They had been exiled. Generations had been born, lived and died in a foreign land. Their sacred writings had been lost, left behind, and largely forgotten. They were a people without the collective memory of who God was to them. Who they were to God. What God had done for them and what their relationship with God was supposed to look like. Now they were back in Jerusalem, trying to put their lives together again. But without the stories from their past . . . it was sort of hard. They had no agreement on what was most important, most urgent. They weren’t sure what they were making together would be meaningful and good.
Then, in the ruins of the old king’s palace, they found the scrolls that contained the Books of Moses - the Torah. And in it the collective memory that would serve as the basis for a renewed relationship with their God.
So they were all there, assembled before Ezra, who had a wooden pulpit and six liturgists on either side. When Ezra opened the first scroll, they stood up. When he said a little blessing, they answered “Amen. Amen” And they listened. They were attentive. They heard, many of them for the first time, the beautiful poetry of the Creation Story. They heard how humans did evil and violence and how God’s attempt to wash evil out of the world with the Great Flood. They heard about God’s promise to their ancestor Abraham, and how his wife Sarah laughed to think she’d be part of God’s history. They heard about Jacob, the trickster, and Joseph and his dreams. The stories of Egyptian captivity and then Moses and the Ten Commandments, wandering in the wilderness and then entering the Land. And these stories were their stories. That’s what the interpreters helped them understand.
That’s what it’s my job to help us understand when I stand up here and preach each Sunday. That the stories in this book are our collective memories - our ways of making sense of the deepest questions human beings can ask: Who am I? Why are we here? What makes life worth living?
The Bible is not a rule book. It has rules in it. But its not the rules that make the people weep.
The Bible is not a history book. Some things in it “really happened”. But there’s not a single book that was written so that we could have an accurate account of the PAST.
And the Bible is not a science book OR an anti-science book. The authors lived long before “science” had been invented. It’s up to something quite different.
It is up to incorporating us into God’s story,
in forming us, (forming our inward parts?)
involving us,
including us,
inspiring us to put our hope and trust in the one that won’t let us down.
It is the Bible that points us to the ONE whom we believe lived the hand’s down best story that has ever been told. The one that wraps up all the stories of the past and opens up the possibility of a beautiful future.
And when he comes - he gives a very short sermon.
According to Luke, Jesus public ministry was inaugurated with a sermon in the synagogue where he grew up, in Nazareth. And he chose his text carefully. They handed him the scroll of the prophet Isaiah, who had written as the people underwent dislocation and loss, grief and exile. Living as refugees in a foreign land, they wondered if God was through with them. But Isaiah assured them that God had plans for their future.
Jesus seized on that good news of God’s amazing future and read it out loud:
The spirit of the Lord is upon me and the Lord has chosen me -
To bring glad news to the poor
To announce freedom for those held captive
To make the blind see and the prisoner free
and to usher in the Jubilee.
It’s a great passage. Isaiah 62: 1-2, though Jesus had a different translation.
Then. He sat down. That was the sermonizing posture. The preacher sat. If I stay here long enough, we may revive that old custom.
Everybody in the congregation fixed their attention on the young man. And he gave the shortest, sweetest sermon ever:
Today. I just love that the first word of Jesus’ first recorded sermon is “today”. Not yesterday. Not tomorrow. Now then. Not soon. Not back in the day, or someday in the future. Now. Jesus claims today. Today is Jesus’ day. Now is Jesus’ time. Put him on your calendar, not tomorrow, not next week, not after the next Presidential election. Now is Jesus’ time, cause now is OUR time. I love that. Today.
Today this scripture promise has been fulfilled in your hearing.
I’m the one who will do these things. God’s got a hold of me, and He won’t let go until joy and freedom and clear vision are the marks of the people of God. Audacious of him, really! To say, “I’m the one who keeps the promise God makes to the world. I’m the way he keeps it. I’m the one.”
That is the central tenet of the Christian way: That Jesus is the one who shows us the way to live and die and live eternally. God’s way.
Eugene Peterson says, “Jesus is the way means he doesn’t just point out the way and then step aside and let us get there on our own as best we can. Jesus points out the say, then then takes the initiative, inviting us to go with him, taking us with him across land and sea, through all kinds of weather, avoiding dead ends and seductive byways, watching out for danger and alerting us to enemies.” (The Jesus Way, p. 36)
Jesus is the way God comes to us. And Jesus is the way we come to God.
That’s the essence of Jesus’ first and shortest sermon. No need for the preacher to keep on preaching.
To the Lord, let praises be! It’s time for dinner now let’s go eat.
New Leaves
This morning, at In the Meantime - Where Faith Meets Everyday Life (www.davidlose.com) there was an interesting comment from a woman who was complaining that her pastor resisted using having a blog and using the internet to connect to her congregation. The complaining about the pastor part just sorta made me sigh. Relationships between pastors and congregations have a large component of complaining, it seems to me. But the part about wanting to have more dialogue . . . and thinking that it might happen on line seemed plausible to me.
I am old. I remember the day, long ago, when face to face friendly relationships were sort of . . . normal. I actually had coffee with neighbors on a pretty regular basis. My kids and I were welcome in the home of the woman down the street. We talked about current events and exchanged household hints. We encouraged each other to go back to school, or take a vacation or get marriage counseling. You know. I sound like something out of Mayberry RFD.
Now I keep up with people on line. I hear their plans there. I congratulate them on accomplishments there. I "like" their New Year's resolutions there. (Leonard Pitts article in the News-Gazette is about this, too.)
And maybe I need to do ministry there. Not all of it, for heaven's sake. Not for everybody, by a long shot. But maybe I should give it a sustained try during Lent, and see if it seems to be a relationship building, discipleship sharing venue. Just see.
What form could it take? I think I'd need a rhythm, a weekly rhythm that would fit with the rest of my routine. Monday. Reflection on worship. Tuesday. Prayer prompts. Wednesday. Children and God. Thursday. Larger church. Friday. Cross talk. Saturday. Share something good from the internet. Sunday - Nothing.
I'll think on that. I'm reluctant to commit until I've looked at a calendar. If you have thoughts . . .
I am old. I remember the day, long ago, when face to face friendly relationships were sort of . . . normal. I actually had coffee with neighbors on a pretty regular basis. My kids and I were welcome in the home of the woman down the street. We talked about current events and exchanged household hints. We encouraged each other to go back to school, or take a vacation or get marriage counseling. You know. I sound like something out of Mayberry RFD.
Now I keep up with people on line. I hear their plans there. I congratulate them on accomplishments there. I "like" their New Year's resolutions there. (Leonard Pitts article in the News-Gazette is about this, too.)
And maybe I need to do ministry there. Not all of it, for heaven's sake. Not for everybody, by a long shot. But maybe I should give it a sustained try during Lent, and see if it seems to be a relationship building, discipleship sharing venue. Just see.
What form could it take? I think I'd need a rhythm, a weekly rhythm that would fit with the rest of my routine. Monday. Reflection on worship. Tuesday. Prayer prompts. Wednesday. Children and God. Thursday. Larger church. Friday. Cross talk. Saturday. Share something good from the internet. Sunday - Nothing.
I'll think on that. I'm reluctant to commit until I've looked at a calendar. If you have thoughts . . .
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
New Year's Day - Another Trip Around the Sun
Thinking of Al Anderson's song:
Here I’m singin’ happy birthday (or happy new year!)
Better think about the about the wish I make
This year gone by ain’t been a piece of cake
Everyday’s a revolution
Pull it together and it comes undone
Just one more candle and a trip around the sun
I’m just hangin’ on while this old world keeps spinning
And it’s good to know it’s out of my control
If there’s one thing that I’ve learned from all this livin’
Is that it wouldn’t change a thing if I let go
No you never see it comin’
Always wind up wonderin’ where it went
Only time will tell if it was time well spent
It’s another revelation
Celebrating what I should have done
With these souvenirs of my trip around the sun
I’m just hangin’ on while this old world keeps spinning
And it’s good to know it’s out of my control
If there’s one thing that I’ve learned from all this livin’
Is that it wouldn’t change a thing if I let go
Yes I’ll make a resolution
That I’ll never make another one
Just enjoy this ride on my trip around the sun
Just enjoy this ride ..... until it's done
Here I’m singin’ happy birthday (or happy new year!)
Better think about the about the wish I make
This year gone by ain’t been a piece of cake
Everyday’s a revolution
Pull it together and it comes undone
Just one more candle and a trip around the sun
I’m just hangin’ on while this old world keeps spinning
And it’s good to know it’s out of my control
If there’s one thing that I’ve learned from all this livin’
Is that it wouldn’t change a thing if I let go
No you never see it comin’
Always wind up wonderin’ where it went
Only time will tell if it was time well spent
It’s another revelation
Celebrating what I should have done
With these souvenirs of my trip around the sun
I’m just hangin’ on while this old world keeps spinning
And it’s good to know it’s out of my control
If there’s one thing that I’ve learned from all this livin’
Is that it wouldn’t change a thing if I let go
Yes I’ll make a resolution
That I’ll never make another one
Just enjoy this ride on my trip around the sun
Just enjoy this ride ..... until it's done
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)