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a sermon: who's your jesus?

March 13-14, 2010

First Presbyterian Church of Hollidaysburg

Who's Your Jesus?

Last week Chuck had to tackle a tough passage. It was a passage where we see Jesus not as a happy, laughing, pastor welcoming little children and asking us to love one another. Instead he tells those following him on the way to Jerusalem to repent and produce or perish. Ouch. Between that chapter and our verse today this is some of what we learn Jesus does.

He: heals a crippled woman on the Sabbath, tells people to go through “the narrow door” or they will be cast out from the Kingdom of God, insults Herod by calling him a fox, foreshadows his death in Jerusalem, challenges the Pharisees' wealth, social status, and understanding of the Law, heals again on the Sabbath, tells people at a dinner hosted by a Pharisee that the people initially invited into the Kingdom of God likely won't be there, then tells the people following him to bear the burden of a cross and sell all they have to follow him.

This is all part of a busy journey to Jerusalem that ends in crucifixion. It is a journey in which we participate in our observance of Lent. Luke's account of this journey is loaded with harsh language of judgment and accountability for those who would dare believe they have earned the privilege of entering into God's Kingdom. What we see repeatedly is a Jesus using vivid and critical language against those who hold political, religious, and economic power. The message: invite the poor, the crippled, the blind, and the lame into your fellowship, or else.

When I have heard our text today, I have more often than not heard it told with two lenses. The first is the grace of a father who would basically humiliate himself in front of everyone to welcome his pathetic young son back into the family. This younger son in effect tells his father that he would rather him die so that he can cash in his family inheritance in order to party it up. This son loses it all, becomes no better than a pig in slop, decides that he needs to find a way to pay it all back to atone for his behavior, and is surprisingly thrown a feast by a father who wanted one thing all along: to have his son there with him. So the second lens is through this Prodigal Son image.

This resonates with parents doesn't it? There is an awful lot of positive emotional appeal to a story that has such a happy ending. It's got conflict and resolution between a father and son. It's like Field of Dreams or even Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs where behind all of the magic and drama, the story is a simple feel-good narrative about fathers and sons reconciling their relationship with one another. We are tempted to stop there. And we often do.

But the story continues doesn't it… I want to spend the next few minutes looking at the relationship between the father and the older son. It's not as tidy of a story, and it doesn't end with a very good feeling. But unless we understand this part of the story, we miss why Jesus was telling this parable in the first place. This is a story consistent with the harsh, tense, and volatile moments that mount as Jesus wanders through the desert on his way to the Cross.

The first few verses today put this parable into context. Jesus is addressing the Pharisees and scribes, the top religious authorities. Jesus is responding to the Pharisees and scribes grumbling and complaining that he welcomes sinners to his table as equals. Among all the other things he has done up until this point to offend the sacred religious structure of his day. Jesus looks like a radical.

Jesus tells the Pharisees and scribes three stories about the joy one should have about finding something of precious value that was lost: a sheep, a coin, and a son. Each of these represent the joy that God shares when a lost sinner receives the Kingdom of God. Each show that God is not passively waiting for the lost, but actively seeking them out.

Then Jesus closes the sequence with a turn: the older son in our parable. When he hears about the joy of the town spurred by his father's act of mercy and grace on his little brother's return, he gets furious. He refuses to partake in the party. When his father hears about his oldest son's anger he went out to him to try to get him to come in and share in the joy.

The scene would have been that the children were all outside of the home having their own age-appropriate activities while all of the adults drank and sang inside the home. Many of us have had parties like this right? The kids are playing games downstairs while the adults act more or less like kids with the social lubricant of wine flowing. I hear a certain celebration of a Saint named Patrick is famous for events such as these…

So think about this. Your first-born pouts and rather than join in the celebration sulks on the front steps. When you go out to see what's going on, he or she gets irate with you and pitches a fit saying, “That kid of yours wasted your money and you toss a party for him? I've worked my butt off and it's not like you ever cared enough about ME to let me have a party with MY friends!” I would imagine that if your eldest went off at you like this in front of all the guests, it would feel a little disrespectful right?

In the era and culture of this parable this is beyond disrespectful. The older son also decides to take a few stabs at his little brother by saying that he “devoured his father's property with prostitutes.” What the older brother has in mind here is a passage from Deuteronomy 21:

If someone has a stubborn and rebellious son who will not obey his father and mother, who does not heed them when they discipline him, then his father and his mother shall take hold of him and bring him out to the elders of his town at the gate of that place. They shall say to the elders of his town, ‘This son of ours is stubborn and rebellious. He will not obey us. He is a glutton and a drunkard.’ Then all the men of the town shall stone him to death. So you shall purge the evil from your midst; and all Israel will hear, and be afraid.

Instead of doing the right thing by confronting his father in private after the party, the older son berates and disrespects his father in front of everyone and then proceeds to imply, very strongly, that his little brother should be stoned to death instead of this foolishness! In short, the older son is grumbling that the father would welcome such a sinner in such a lavish way when that sinner deserves death or at least to be shunned.

Moreover, did you catch how the older son addresses people here? He opens up to tell his father that he has been as a “slave” to him and does not address his brother as a brother but as “this son.” Something is seriously wrong in the way that the older brother envisions and understands his relationship with his family.

I have often heard people say that dysfunction in our families is “the new normal.” Clearly, this family takes the cake. No mother is mentioned. Both sons reject their father, and just when things seem to be getting better, they just get worse at the end.

Yet the father is consistent with a response of grace with both sons who each deserved to be cut off from not only the family inheritance, but from the town as well.

Jesus is showing us that the character of God is to welcome sinners and outcasts to the table as equals in the Kingdom of God. The response of joy in finding the lost that we see in this entire chapter of Luke is consistent.

But remember that the second part of this parable is coming in the context of all of the judgment we have heard from Jesus to this point. The piece about the older son does not end very tidy. We have no idea if the older son accepts his father's grace to join the party. This is an open question for Jesus' audience, the ones who were grumbling that he was messing with the Sabbath laws and welcoming sinners.

An important lesson here is that God cannot be contained in religious systems and God's favor cannot be earned by how well we think we are doing aligned with what we think the will of God is. Jesus challenges not those who are lost so that they may follow a religious system in order to gain God's favor. What he continually does on the road to Jerusalem is challenge the religious and political systems in power in order to align everything crooked in them with God's mercy and grace.

A question for us is if we grumble at the thought of welcoming sinners or those who do not look like and behave the way we do, or expect of others. What if I came to church today wearing jeans and a t-shirt? Who among us would grumble? What if we filled the pews with the homeless, unwed parents, drug addicts, and ex-convicts on parole? Would we grumble?

Lent is about following Jesus on this road and seeking the outcasts, the lonely, the sinners, the orphans, the addicts, the crippled, and whoever are the unclean among us. We are to do this not to admonish them, but to throw them a feast and rejoice. Jesus was serious enough about this message that it is what gets him killed on Good Friday. During this Lenten season, our challenge is, as it always is, to hear this Gospel and partake in the Kingdom of God even at the expense of our earthly inheritances and comforts. Is this the Jesus that we worship? If it is, where are the poor, the sinners, and the outcasts among us at this very moment, in this very house we have the audacity to call a house of God?

Amen.

functional agnosticism: a confession of sorts

Last night I brought up a definition of where I think I am with my religions these days. I call it "functional agnosticism." As I posted via Twitter:

i live like god does not exist, but i hope/want the gospel to be true.

This was a little confusing, so let me unpack it here a bit more, starting with a question:

If you peeled back all of the layers of culture, language, history, and ideology that have given shape to the meaning of the word "God" what is it that you are really left with?

Some might answer that this is why we need to go back to Scripture as a foundation of the faith. The problem with saying this is that it assumes that somehow Scripture gives us an eternal, metaphysical "God" that is unchanging and unencumbered by culture. Nice sentiment, but patently untrue. The Yahweh of Genesis who is one among a near-eastern pantheon of gods looks very different from the God of first or second Isaiah or Josiah among others. The God of Jesus and the God of Paul also take on different shapes and meaning. Scripture shows us that God changes. But is it God that changes, or just different people's idea of God?

I stick with the latter since that is all we can really know. We know, and there is little doubt, that people develop an understanding of God and it is that understanding of God that people begin to worship. This is to say that people end up worshiping divinized reflections of their own selves. The notion of an unchanging, eternal, perfect God that dictates that reflection only legitimizes the human tendency to self-worship. Even the image of Jesus gets radically distorted to bend to the desires of religious communities. This is evident in the various Gospel narratives that present Jesus in different images. Behind all of that human intervention, we are somehow supposed to find a consistent image of Jesus.

If our notion of "God" or any sacred reality is so enmeshed with our own narcissistic reflections of our own selves that we then use to Lord over others, what is left if we peel all of that away? The answer is…nothing.  All we have for God are analogies and images drawn from our own experience. All we can know about God is what we can know about our own experience and the experience of others. God is otherwise utterly unknowable. If you believe that God is utterly unknowable, this is the heart of what it means to be agnostic. There might be a God out there, but if there is, it is a God that is impossible to know since such a being is completely outside the boundaries of possible human experience. This is, in part, Kant's legacy with his description of the noumenal in contrast to the phenomenal. All we can really know is the latter.

I took an inventory of how I live. I function like an agnostic. I am not a big fan of prayer and don't do it since it does not do anything at all for me. I don't "look for God" anywhere in the world. I don't really "sense" God anywhere and I am not sure if I ever have. Worship does absolutely nothing for me other than a stop along the way for church which is really a social outlet and nothing more. Religion and theology are for me interesting, even deeply interesting. I read about Jesus and his affect in the world and I think there is something important that did happen there aside from all of the miracles which I've never had a strong affinity for. Ideas like the Trinity and Incarnation I find aesthetically beautiful and worth discussing. I do theology because I enjoy it on the same level that I enjoy a great piece of music or learning something new. But it is not even close to the love that I experience with my sons, my wife, or even my dog!

Yet I continue to practice the form of a Christian. I go to church, read the bible regularly, read theology, study religion, etc. all with the desire that it is all somehow correspondent to truth, even if there is no longer any aspect of my daily experience that can confirm for me with any degree of compelling satisfaction that "God is real." I want it to be true to give greater coherence and intelligibility to our often very chaotic experience of the world. I want it to be true to make sense of suffering and to give life to altruism and catalyze human expressions of love. Yet deep down I don't really see God here, I see people doing the best they can with what they have.

Love one another. That's how our humanity holds together and will experience mutual joy in our communities. Call is Pascal's Wager in reverse. I love because it's the best way to live. If God exists, that's favorable. If God does not exist, it's still the best way to live. God is just no longer absolutely necessary to live in order to love others.

boundaries and labels: good luck getting rid of them

Image courtesy of http://snibbe.com/scott/bf/

Diana Butler Bass has been on Twitter for only a couple of days, and it's already great to follow. Tonight she posted this:

Greg Nyssa on God: "How then would (w)e arrive at the sought-for boundary when (w)e can find no boundary?" Why do some Xians make them?

Good question.

I think the problem in the question is the word "some." It seems to imply that there are also at least "some" or perhaps "more" Christians who do not make boundaries. I don't think that kind of reading is all that accurate.

The reality is that in any social system the people in the community create boundaries. It is part of human nature to categorize and develop constraints on behavior. Even behavioral economists argue that unlimited choice and unlimited options for behaviors do not lead to increased happiness, but decreased happiness. As it turns out the more we can choose and the more unconstrained out behaviors are, the less happy we become. That's right. There is a negative correlation between unconstrained freedom and happiness. This is why Schwartz, for example, calls this The Paradox of Choice.

The same can be said for our social systems and communities. We create boundaries, often on unconscious levels, because we have an instinct for happiness. we create labels to make judgements between objects and people that we experience. We make generalizations, we profile, and on and on. That we behave this way is almost as incontrovertible as the reality of gravity or evolution.

However, I often hear well intentioned liberals, emergents, postmoderns, etc. who are in a conundrum. They have seen the harm that intentional labels can create and wish to eschew them altogether. It is true that in society we create lables like liberal, postmodern, fundamentalist, progressive, etc. not for the purpose of ordering reality in a way that makes us happier, but in a way that allows us to control our reality by de-legitimating someone else. It's basically bullying. You force a "label" on someone or develop social boundaries in order to keep people out.

However, this is the way that systems of purity in religious communities work. It is the function of the temple, the altar, the curtain, the holy water, etc. in order to create a distinction between holy and profane. Even the most liberal communities will do it. All religious communities desire a consistent framework that members can assume in order to feel at home and nourished. The social effect is greater social connectedness to those within the community reinforced by the distinctions one can make with those outside of that community. If you look at any variable that predicts happiness, guess what it is? Social connectedness.

So the issue that Nyssa raised oh so long ago is that these boundaries, that we all create if we are "normal" functioning human beings, are not what is "normal" for God. The Trinity itself is a boundary breaching being as three persons in one substance. The Incarnation of Jesus as fully God and fully human again breaches unavoidable boundaries in humanity and its inability to join God in a union. So we cannot, as social beings, eliminate boundaries in our day to day behavior. However, spiritual discipline can help us to see just how tentative these boundaries really are.

May the boundary laden Western church re-gain some understanding of spiritual discipline in order not to create boundaries, but to obliterate them, even for a moment, with the guidance of the Spirit of God, the one source that can actually do this work on our behalf.

hyper-sexuality

I recently found a poem a wrote for a little student publication called The Testament at Princeton Theological Seminary for Summer 2000. It was in my days of intense study of the philosophy of technology and its fusion with concepts of desire in postmodernism (with a clear hat tip to Kierkegaard). Enjoy!

Musings of a Hyperseducer

Space and time collapse
I can feel you
But I can't see you
My fingers tremble with electric delight
Quivering, shaking
Your skin must be so soft
I can almost grasp your reflection
I long for your (inter)face
The distance between us brings us closer
I am numb, with you
You surround me with light
I can hear your heartbeat
The thumping getting faster
Liquid crystal sweat
Beading at light speed
Accelerating
Closer
Arching tension
Electricity flowing through my veins
Tingling with flushed intensity
So vivid
Your face
(Am I losing myself in you?)
I am losing myself
(Am I lost?)
Together we will reach the mountaintop
We are almost there
Closer
Boiling rush of electrons
Orgasm of light
You tremble
Straight from my soul
Into you…
You left me through a bottleneck
I could not harness you any longer
Your telepresent lap-dance ended so quickly
Will you be there tomorrow?
Will you be someone else?

gravity

gravity
constant pull
not weight
a pressure
intense
pulling down
to some center
a vaccuum
light
delusion
image of the past
naive optimism
resisting
furiously
pulled deeper
with less of myself
in release
at the bottom
there is grace
where we are born