04-22-2012 Sermon by The Rev. Dr. Brian K. Jensen

LIVING THIS SIDE OF THE CROSS: PART I

    Wendell Berry is an author, a poet, and what some have called a prophet of contemporary culture.  In a book entitled, What Are People For? he writes, “We think it ordinary to spend twelve or sixteen or twenty years of a person’s life – and many thousands of public dollars – on education.”  Yet we spend not one dime or give one thought to character.  Does character matter?  Could there be a kind of wisdom or knowledge that exists outside of what we might learn in school?

    Flannery O’Connor seemed to think so.  Flannery O’Connor was a 20^th century American writer. Her novels and short stories often reflected her own Catholic faith, and frequently examined questions of morality and character.  In a book entitled, Everything That Rises Must Converge, we meet a young man who has returned home to die…or so he thinks.  He is arrogant, pretentious, intellectually proud, and very well-educated.  On his deathbed, he decides he wants to see a priest; but not just any priest.  He pictures in his mind the dramatic content of his end-of-life conversations with an equally well-educated priest…a person of culture, as well as religion.

    Much to his consternation, however…instead of encountering a worldly, sophisticated and slightly cynical Jesuit priest – the priest of his imagining – the priest who actually arrives at his bedside is nothing of the sort.  He is short, he is portly, he is anything but sophisticated, and he arrives at the man’s bedside and introduces himself by saying, “I’m Fahther Finn – from Purrgatory.”  And instead of responding to the dying young man’s questions about the literary merits of James Joyce – or the significance of mythology behind the world’s great religions – the priest insists upon asking questions of his own.

    “So,” the priest asks him, “do you say your morning and your evening prayers?  You don’t, eh?  Well, you will never learn to be good unless you pray regularly. You cannot love Jesus unless you speak with him.  Do you have trouble with purity? We all do, but you must pray to the Holy Ghost for it.  Mind, heart, body, and soul.  Nothing is overcome without prayer.  Pray with your family.  Do you pray with your family?” 

    By this time, the proud young intellectual is fit to be tied.  He isn’t having the kind of conversation he imagined.  And at the suggestion that he should pray with his family, he shouts, “God forbid!  My mother doesn’t have time to pray, and my sister is an atheist!”  The priest responds, “A shame.  Then you must pray for them.”

    The conversation only becomes more tense from here on out as the young man attempts to steer the priest toward the more comfortable shores of the arts by saying, “The artist prays by creating.” To which the old priest responds, “That’s not enough! If you do not pray daily you are neglecting your immortal soul.  Do you know your catechism?”

    Here the young man feels as though he is on firmer ground.  He doesn’t need a catechism.  He is an intellectual – an artist – free to experience the world and form his own opinions of it.  “Certainly not!” he replies.  “I do not know my catechism.  I do not need my catechism.”

    The priest moves on relentlessly – not justifying, not explaining – just walking through the catechism.  “Who made you?” he asks.  The young man replies, “Different people believe different things about that.”  “God made you,” the priest says.  “Now, who is God?”

    The young man replies, “God is an idea created by man.”  The priest responds as if he hadn’t even heard the young man’s answer.  “God is a Spirit; infinitely perfect,” he says.  “Now…why did God make you?” The young man tries to deny the premise but the priest cuts him off. “God made you to know him, to love him, to serve him in this world, and to be happy with him in the next.”

    Exasperated, the priest says at last, “If you don’t apply yourself to the catechism, how do you expect to know how to save your immortal soul?” “Listen,” the young man says, “I’m not a Roman Catholic.”  “A poor excuse for not saying your prayers,” the old priest answers.  “But I’m dying,” the young man says.  “You’re not dead yet,” the priest retorts.

    After a turn in the conversation in which the priest instructs the young man on how to receive the Holy Spirit, the old priest leaves.  The last thing the young man hears the priest say, however, is a comment to his mother.  “He is a good lad at heart,” the priest says, “but very ignorant.”

    What strikes me most about this conversation is the confidence of the priest.  He knows that the questions addressed in the catechism – fashionable or not – are the real questions at the heart of life.  The old priest standing beside the young man’s bed, tenaciously asking questions that he callously brushes aside, reminds us of what faith looks like…and the contribution it can make to our character.  Questions, like some of the great questions in the catechism, remind us that going deeper means asking very tried and true questions…whatever the preoccupation of contemporary culture may say about what matters most.

    We think it ordinary to spend twelve or sixteen or twenty years of a person’s life and many thousands of public dollars on education.   Yet we spend not one dime or give one thought to a person’s character.  Does character matter?  Is there a kind of wisdom or knowledge that exists outside of what we might learn in school? I think the old priest in that Flannery O’Connor story would say that character does matter and that there is a kind of wisdom or knowledge that exists outside of what we might learn in school.  What do you think?

    Consider the passage that I read from the gospel according to John.  Jesus had been crucified on a Friday afternoon. Come Sunday morning, the disciples heard some wild reports from a few women who’d been to the tomb claiming that he was alive, but they were a bit unsure as to what to make of them. Then – suddenly – Jesus himself appeared to them. The only problem here was that Thomas – better known as Doubting Thomas – was not with them, and he refused to believe what the other disciples were telling him.  “Unless I see the mark of the nails,” he said, “and put my finger in the mark of the nails…I will not believe.” 

    One week later, Thomas got his wish. Jesus appeared to them again and said to Thomas, “Put your finger here, and see my hands.  Reach out your hand and put it in my side.  Do not be faithless, Thomas, but believe.”  Thomas immediately blurted out, “My Lord and my God!”  And Jesus said to him, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and still believe.”

    Now after this event, the author of the gospel of John lays out the purpose of his book.  He writes, “Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of the disciples which are not written in this book.  But these are written…so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of the Living God; and that through believing, you may have life in his name.”

    Here’s the quandary.  What does it mean to have life in his name?  Our Americanized gospel has come to interpret life in his name to mean eternal life, and that’s true.  But it means a whole lot more than that.  The Greek word translated “life” here is zoane.  It literally means life in the physical sense...of the supernatural life believers will receive in the future, as well as that which they enjoy in the here and now. Ladies and gentlemen, listen closely.  Life in Jesus’ name has to do with eternal life.  But it also has to do with life in the here and now...a life of grace and peace and beauty and holiness.  This is what the old priest was trying to tell the dying young man.  The question for us now, I suppose, is this: “How do we get there?”  How do we attain a life of grace and peace and beauty and holiness ourselves?

    I encountered a startling story in a book by Eugene Peterson entitled, Practice Resurrection.  There was a woman who grew up in poverty in Arkansas in a harsh fundamentalist atmosphere and abusive circumstances.  When she was eighteen-years-old, she escaped her home town and her family and fled to California.  It wasn’t long before she became pregnant.  She was ecstatic about this new life growing inside of her.  She had never felt more “herself.”  She had meaning; she had joy; she felt for the very first time as if she was taking part in the mystery of life.  While she was no longer religious in any conventional sense, she was convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that God had created and given this life that was within her.

    She gave birth to the baby.  It was sheer ecstasy, beauty and goodness.  And then, a few weeks later, she fell apart. She knew nothing about life. She didn’t know what to do. She was confused, bewildered, and without bearings. She had no idea what to do with a baby...and no visible means to support one. She started drinking and became an alcoholic. She went on to use cocaine and became an addict.  It wasn’t long before she turned to prostitution.  She spent the next twenty years on the streets of San Francisco, trying to keep herself and her son afloat.

    And then one day, she wandered into a church.  The church was empty, so she sat down and prayed.  And then it happened.  She didn’t know exactly how or why, but she knew that it had happened.  She had become a Christian.  Then it turned out that she was pregnant again.  This time around, she knew that she knew nothing about living…but she also knew that this time around there wasn’t going to be any hand-to-mouth existence on alcohol, drugs and prostitution. After poking around a bit, she discovered and embraced the Christian faith, and gave herself up entirely to Jesus Christ.  

    But do you know what she found most difficult from that point on?  American churches.  It’s not that she wasn’t welcomed. She was. In fact, she was something of a prize to the church. She was one who had been plucked from the underbelly of the world, and had been transformed, literally. What she found, however, was that these American churches seemed to know a lot about being born again in Jesus’ name.  The problem was that they seemed neither interested nor competent in matters pertaining to spiritual growth. They knew a lot about the life of Christ, but they weren’t very good at navigating life in Christ.  The people of the church were unable to help her as she struggled to live this side of the cross.  She was drowning in a sea of chaos, and there was no one there to toss her a lifeline.

    What do you think about that story?  Should the members of the church have been able to   help her in matters pertaining to spiritual growth, or is that something that’s pretty much the responsibility of the individual? Should the members of the church have been able to help her to live this side of the cross, or are we pretty much on our own when it comes to such things?  What it all comes down to is this: People are bobbing in a sea of chaos all around us.  Are we equipped, as Christians, to toss them a lifeline?  Or are we willing to simply let them drown?

    At our Lake Erie Presbytery meeting last Tuesday night, a minister friend of mine by the name of Harry Johns addressed the presbytery.  He said, “The church is one generation from death.” He said that when he used to make that statement as a young preacher he didn’t really believe it.  But now, as a retired veteran of fifty years of ministry, he sees it as a distinct possibility.  The church is one generation from death.

    Jesus transformed the world with but eleven disciples.  Judas, of course, betrayed him and was no longer counted among the twelve.  The way I like to look at that is this: Even Jesus could only keep eleven out of twelve happy.  That gives me consolation when people get upset with me. Ladies and gentlemen, we have nearly 1000 members on our rolls.   Don’t you think we could make a difference in the name of Jesus Christ in our community…if we only knew how?

    The sermon series we begin today is entitled, “Living This Side of the Cross.”  It has to do with spiritual growth.  As Howie read a moment ago from the book of Ephesians, “We must no longer be children, tossed to and fro, and blown about by every wind of doctrine.  But speaking the truth in love, we must grow up in every way into him who is the head...into Christ Jesus our Lord.”  Join me over the course of the next few weeks.  We’re going to spend a little time exploring spiritual growth.  We’re going to spend a little time learning how to throw a lifeline.  We’re going to spend a little time...developing character.  Don’t you think it’s high time we did? Amen.

 

04-01-2012 Sermon by The Rev. Dr. Brian K. Jensen

THE SUPERFICIAL SAGA: PART VIII

    In the year of 1970 – I suspect that sounds like ancient history to some of you, while it seems like only yesterday to others – in the year of 1970 a single man and a single woman on a college campus started living together…and it made national news.  You see, prior to 1970 it was illegal for a man and a woman to live together without the benefit of marriage. Today I’m guessing that at least 75% of the couples I marry are living together before their wedding day. It’s gotten to the point where I don’t bother to even ask any more.  I figure…at least they’re trying to do the right thing now.   We Americans have rationalized our way into believing that living together prior to marriage is a morally and socially acceptable practice.

      Biblical mores aside, I used to be able to say that living together prior to marriage greatly increased the odds that the marriage would end in divorce.  My theory was, “How do you go from a relationship with virtually no commitment to a relationship of the highest commitment?”  And there were statistics to back me up on that.  Then I read an article on the front page of The Meadville Tribune entitled, “Pre-Marriage Move-In No Longer Predicts Divorce.”  Essentially, it said that nearly 50% of all first marriages break up in the first 20 years. And living together first is no longer a factor in determining the success rate of marriage.

    Yet could it be that there is another factor that has contributed to the high rate of divorce in this country?  Could it be that there is something deeper than couples living together that impacts the success or failure of a marriage?  Keep that thought in mind as we move on.

    This is the eighth in a series of sermons entitled, The Superficial Saga.  It’s a sermon series on the seven deadly sins. We poke a lot of fun at sin these days. Truth be told, I don’t think we take sin very seriously.  Yet God takes sin seriously.  In fact, God takes sin so seriously…that he sent his Son to die on a cross in order to overcome it.  Sin is not a matter to be taken lightly, as though a person could saunter into God’s presence at any time, in any mood, with any sort of life behind them…and at once perceive God there.   No, the sense of God’s reality is a progressive and often laborious achievement of the soul; the soul that takes sin seriously and earnestly tries to dispel it.

    Six weeks ago we examined the sin of pride.  We determined that pride is a sin basically because Jesus said it was.  The secret to overcoming pride is humility.  And the key to humility is to approach God not as the big, self-sufficient, and self-reliant adults we pretend to be.  Instead, we approach God as little children: frail, empty, dependent...needing a gracious and loving God in the worst possible way.

    Five weeks ago we examined the sin of envy.  We determined that envy is cold-hearted and cruel.  From a theological standpoint envy is basically our own sense of dissatisfaction with the way God made us.  The secret to conquering envy is love.  And the secret to love…is to wish what’s best for someone else.

    Four weeks ago we examined the sin of wrath or anger.  We determined that anger is a normal human emotion that needs to be expressed.  Yet that anger needs to be expressed in the form of an offering to God.  In other words, we express our anger to God in prayer…and then leave it in God’s hands to rectify the situation.  The secret to conquering anger is forgiveness.  Forgiveness then breaks the cycle of anger that peace might rule the day.

    Three weeks ago we examined the sin of sloth.  We determined that sloth is essentially a spiritual apathy that stems from a sense of hopelessness about the world. The key to overcoming sloth is to remember that we serve God, not anyone else.  We are called to remain diligent in our tasks, and in our belief, that God’s kingdom will come to pass when all the world comes to serve God.

    Two weeks ago we examined the sin of greed.  We determined that all that greed gets us is a whole lot of stress and a much shorter life.  Greed says, “I want, I need, I’ve simply got to have.”  Charity says, “Thank you, God, for what I do have.” Thus, perhaps charity is just as much for us as it is for whatever charitable institution it is to which we choose to give.

    Last week we examined the sin of gluttony.  We determined that gluttony is weakness…and that weakness is the door through which the devil always tries to enter.  The key to overcoming said weakness is more a positive frame of mind than it is anything else.

    Today we examine the sin you’ve all been waiting for – the sin of lust.  As we saw in our passage from the first chapter of the book of Genesis, sexuality started out as a good gift from God. It says, “So God created humanity in his image; in the image of God he created them – male and female he created them.  God blessed them and said to them, ‘Be fruitful, and multiply…and fill the earth.’”  In the first chapter of the book of Genesis men and women are seen as equals – both having been created in the image of God and charged to propagate the species.  It’s in the second chapter of the book of Genesis where things start to get messy...because that’s where we begin to make distinctions.

    The second chapter of the book of Genesis records another account of creation.  There we see that God caused a deep sleep to fall upon Adam.  Then God took one of Adam’s ribs and with it he created Eve.  And for the last six thousand years, women have been seen as being subservient to men.

    It started with their temptation by the serpent in the Garden of Eden.  For centuries, Eve was seen as the culprit.  She was the one that was tempted by the Serpent, and she was the one who led poor Adam astray.  Recent scholarship, however, has tried to get Eve off the hook.  Experts say that at least Eve was thoughtful about what she did.  Adam just did it.  As one woman said, “That’s just like a man…always thinking about his stomach!”

    I want to put a different slant on that story.  I want every married man in the sanctuary this morning to raise his hand.  Now, keep your hand up…if you think it’s a good idea to complain about what your wife puts in front of you for dinner. I don’t complain about what my wife puts in front of me for dinner. I’m afraid to!  That’s probably what happened in the Garden of Eden.  Eve put an apple in front of Adam and said, “Here.  Eat this.”  Adam knew better than to question Eve. So you see, I’m not letting either one of them off the hook. In any case, by the end of the story, when Adam and Eve are banished from the Garden, they are clearly at odds with one another.  And it seems we’ve been unable to see one another as equals ever since.

    Jesus weighs in on the matter, as well, in the passage we read from the gospel according to Matthew.  There he says, “You have heard it said, ‘You shall not commit adultery.’  But I say   to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lust has already committed adultery with her   in his heart.”  Now granted, it would have been nice if Jesus had talked about women looking at men with lust as well, but the point remains the same. To look at a person with lust is to not see them as a person.  It is to see them...as an object.  Lust sees another person as an object for the gratification of its own lewd desires.  And therein lies the problem.

    But hey, that’s easier said than done, is it not?  We humans are passionate by nature.  It’s biological, for crying out loud!  But I submit to you that lust is not the same as love. Lust says,   “I can’t wait to see him again,” or, “I can hardly keep my hands off her.”  That’s what we call romantic infatuation.  Love is showing compassion even when you don’t feel very compassionate.  Love is continuing to give in spite of the desire to take.  Love is holding on when it would be so much easier to just let go.  Love is a mutual respect that is built upon years and years of hard work and sacrifice. You see, love is not something so fleeting as a fickle emotion.  Love… is a state of being.

    As I frequently say in my wedding sermons, love is bringing a beautiful, healthy child into a world full of pain because you truly believe your love can make a difference.  Love is watching that child grow up and decide to share his or her life with that of another.  Love is standing beside your spouse when they’re lying in a hospital bed…worried sick about what life would be like without them.  Love is sitting across the room from one another after the kids have grown and gone – perhaps not saying a word to each other – but looking at each other and remembering a lifetime of shared memories.  Love takes time because love is so much more than a fickle emotion.  Love…is a state of being.

    Now back to the notion of living together before marriage.  It seems as though it is now a proven fact that living together prior to marriage does not impact the success rate of marriage in any way.  Could it be that there is something deeper than couples living together that impacts the success or failure of a marriage?  I think there is.

    The general rule of thumb these days…is that after three dates, a couple is expected to sleep together.  And by sleep, I don’t mean sleep. So here’s what happens. A couple sleeps together, and the sex is good.  So then they move in together, and the sex is still good. Then they decide   to get married, and the sex is still good.  Then a few years down the road, the thrill wears off a little bit.  Suddenly a couple discovers that they’re married to someone that, a) they don’t really know, and b) they don’t really like!  Such is the fruit of a relationship built on lust.  Now that’s just my theory.   I’ve never read it or heard it anywhere.   I just think that’s what the problem is.   A relationship that is not built on mutual trust and respect is simply destined to fail. 

    So what have we learned so far?  We’ve examined the seven deadly sins.  And along with that, we’ve examined the seven holy virtues or the seven cardinal virtues.  The seven holy virtues are meant to counteract the seven deadly sins.  As I’ve mentioned in every sermon for the last seven weeks, the only way to conquer sin…is to replace it with something better.

    Yet truth be told, we will never be able to completely master our sin, no matter how hard we try.  If we could, then God would have sent his Son into the world for nothing.  So we have a bit of a conundrum here. On the one hand we are miserable, wretched, hopeless sinners in desperate need of the grace of God.  Yet on the other hand, we are the beloved children of God – more precious to God than life itself. 

    Martin Luther called this situation, simul iustis et peccator.  What that means is this.  We are both justified and sinner at the same time.  We are loved, accepted, redeemed and saved – and we are rebellious, deceitful, dishonorable and vile – at the same time.  Perhaps all this means… is that God isn’t finished with us yet. 

    My oldest son is going to have my hide for telling this story, but I’m going to tell it anyway.  About ten years ago, my son and two of his friends had a book of matches and some fireworks.  They were in a field and it had been very dry that summer.  Let’s just say that shortly after they left the area where they had been…six to eight-foot flames erupted.  A vigilant neighbor called the fire department and disaster was averted. Now in fairness to my son, he did not light the fire.  But as far as I was concerned, he was guilty by association.

    When I found out what had happened, I rounded up my son, Rob, and one of the other boys –   a boy named Neal – and drug them down to the police station. There they made their confession and essentially received a slap on the wrist.  As we were driving home, I said to the boys, “You got off easy.  The next time, you may not be so lucky.”

    I knew I had done the right thing when Rob immediately said, “There won’t be a next time.”  He learned from his mistake.  And Neal…Neal just rolled his eyes.  Ladies and gentlemen, my son is currently interviewing for acceptance into a pharmacy school.  Neal died last summer of a drug overdose.

    Did I love my son any less for his mistake?  No.  Did I love him enough to let him learn the consequences of his actions? Yes.  Maybe that’s what God is doing for us as well.  He loved us enough to send his only Son.  And he loves us enough to let us learn from our mistakes.  God’s not finished with us yet.  What will you make of your mistakes?  Amen.