Disaster and the Rhetoric of Sacrifice -- Sightings

The ongoing disaster in Japan has caught the imagination of the world.  It has given the world a new perspective on Japan and its people.  We see people seem to take things in stride, don't loot, follow directions, etc.  Of course there's another side -- a culture that includes principles of honor/shame has made it difficult for the government and corporate leadership to be forthcoming about the real threat of the damaged nuclear plants.  It goes to show you that cultures are complex!  We've also been watching as a small group of volunteers risk their lives to try to fix the damaged plants.  There is a cultural element to this as well that raises questions of how we understand and honor those who sacrifice their lives for others.   Beyond all of this we've heard words about divine judgment from American and Japanese figures.  Yuki Miyamoto, a Professor of Religious Studies at DePaul University helps us understand the complexity of the situation in this Sightings piece.  I invite you to read and respond.

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Sightings 3/24/2011

Disaster and the Rhetoric of Sacrifice

-- Yuki Miyamoto

Nearly two weeks have passed since a catastrophic earthquake and violent tsunami devastated northeastern Japan. Officials are struggling to calculate the still-mounting death toll and to assess the full scope of destruction, while efforts to avert meltdowns at crippled nuclear power plants intensify. Natural disasters, so often worsened by human failures, activate our religious imaginations.

Too often in times of crisis explicit religious expressions are appalling. In 2005, Hurricane Katrina stimulated an outpouring of hateful sentiment; the hurricane was deemed by some to be God’s punishment for homosexuality in New Orleans. In 2010, Pat Robertson infamously attributed the earthquake in Haiti to the Haitians’ “pact with the Devil.” Now, in connection with Japan’s current plight, right-wing firebrand Glenn Beck has speculated that the quake and tsunami were a “message from God.” To this he added, with telling ambiguity, that he is not “saying” that God caused the earthquake, but also not “not saying” it.

Religious rhetoric has also cropped up in Japan. Tokyo governor Shintaro Ishihara has claimed that the calamity is a “divine punishment.” “Japanese politics,” Ishihara remarked, “is tainted with egoism and populism. We need to use the tsunami to wipe out egoism, which has attached itself like rust to the mentality of the Japanese people over a long period of time.” Ishihara, a conservative politician whose troubling record also includes racist and sexist comments, later retracted his remarks and offered an apology.

More subtle than such explicit remarks, however, is the religious aura developing around the group of Japanese persons working to contain radiation and incapacitate nuclear reactors on the verge of meltdown. Dubbed by the Western media as the “Fukushima 50,” (though the group comprises more than fifty workers), these volunteers are dousing the burning reactors with water at close range. As the Guardian has put it, the Fukushima 50 “are the nuclear power industry's equivalent of frontline soldiers, exposing themselves to considerable risks while about 800 of their evacuated colleagues watch from a safe distance.” Here aptly analogized with soldiers, these volunteers evince a will to sacrifice themselves on behalf of their country.

As Chris Hogg of the BBC notes, Japan is fond of “heroes who sacrifice everything for the greater good,” in this case a country steeped in a tradition that holds the nation as sacred. Dying for the nation thus evokes a religious sensibility. For example, a Japanese newspaper reported that one woman sent a text message to her husband on the team, saying: “Please be a savior (kyuseishu) of Japan.”

The risks of the Fukushima 50 are indeed of heroic proportions, a fact I appreciate all the more from my comfortable vantage point here in Chicago, thousands of miles from the accident site. At the same time, an unsettling feeling has crept upon me—a feeling that recalls the unease I have experienced at the Yasukuni Shinto shrine in Tokyo, where soldiers who died for the “sacred” Japanese nation-state, which emerged in the nineteenth century and is embodied in the deific emperor, are enshrined. Deifying soldiers who have given their lives on behalf of the country, however, has the effect of glorifying and upholding, rather than challenging, the conditions giving rise to the disasters of war.

Within this religio-political tradition, civilians may also be granted the status of deity after death in Japan. For example, in the Saga prefecture of southwest Japan, one shrine is dedicated to police officer Masuda Keitaro, who devoted himself to treating those suffering from cholera in 1895. He himself eventually fell victim to the epidemic he was fighting and passed away. Since containment of the disease coincided with Masuda’s demise, the officer’s death was deemed a sacred sacrifice, and he was enshrined as a protector of the villagers from disease.

The present threat of illness is of a different sort, but like Masuda, the Fukushima 50 are widely hailed as “sacrificial” heroes for their noble and necessary endeavors. Without wanting to diminish the genuine dedication and risk of this group, however, one might call critical attention to the problematic religious underpinnings of the worshipful attitude with which they are being treated, for such attitudes may mask a latent nationalism that sees the nation as sacred and therefore infallible; such attitudes—hardly unique to Japan—may explain in part the Japanese government’s reticence about the full extent of the threat of nuclear disaster.

Whatever the case, the religious tradition and sacrificial rhetoric that inform such attitudes threaten to divert attention from investigations of what “necessitated” the risk, and potential deaths, in the first place. The glorifying rhetoric of sacrifice in service of the greater good potentially deflects attention from the task of interrogating the conditions that gave rise to disaster—in this case, the matter of nuclear power: its threat to individuals, communities, and the global environment.

We do not know, of course, if the Fukushima 50 will someday be enshrined as deities for their sacrifices. But perhaps the best show of gratitude we might now offer would be to turn a critical eye to our own complicity in the disaster to which they respond. Japan has for too long relied on uranium and plutonium for energy, notwithstanding the fact that there is no safe way to dispose of nuclear waste, nor to make the power plants that convert these elements into usable energy entirely secure.

In gratefully considering the risks and efforts of the Fukushima 50, we must move beyond potentially-distracting religious rhetoric and sensibilities to remind ourselves who is accountable for their lives, and why we have so far failed to choose a safer energy alternative that would not require such risks.

References

Max Blumenthal, “Blaming Katrina on Gays, Israel, and Man-on-Horse Sex,” Huffington Post, September 5, 2005.

Nicholas D. Kristof, “Some Frank Talk about Haiti,” New York Times, January 20, 2010.

Elizabeth Tenety, “Glenn Beck: Japan earthquake ‘message’ from God,” The Washington Post, March 15, 2011.

Tania Branigan and Justin McCurry, “Fukushima 50 battle radiation risks as Japan nuclear crisis deepens,” Guardian, March 15, 2011.

Chris Hogg, “Japan Hails the heroic ‘Fukushima 50’,” BBC News, March 17, 2011.

“Tokyo shōbō chō: Hibaku to tatakai hōsui—kazoku ‘kyūseishu ni’” (“Tokyo Fire Department: Watering and battling against radiation exposure—‘be a savior,’ said the wife,”) Yomiuri Online, March 21, 2011.

Komatsu, Kazuhiko. Kami ni natta hitobito: Nihonjin ni totte “Yasukuni no kami” towa nani ka (People who became gods: What ‘Yasukuni Deities” means to Japanese) (Tokyo: Kobunsha, 2006).

Yuki Miyamoto holds a PhD from the University of Chicago Divinity School and is an assistant professor in the Department of Religious Studies at DePaul University. Her book Beyond the Mushroom Cloud: Commemoration, Religion, and Responsibility After Hiroshima is forthcoming from Fordham University Press.

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This month’s Religion and Culture Web Forum is written by D. Max Moerman and entitled “The Death of the Dharma: Buddhist Sutra Burials in Early Medieval Japan.” In eleventh-century Japan, Buddhists fearing the arrival of the "Final Dharma"--an age of religious decline--began to bury sutras in sometimes-elaborate reliquaries. Why entomb a text, making it impossible for anyone to see or read it? And what do such practices teach us about the meaning and purpose of texts in Buddhism and other religions? Max Moerman of Barnard College takes up these questions with responses from Jeff Wilson (Renison University College), James W. Watts (Syracuse University) and Vincent Wimbush (Claremont Graduate University).

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Sightings comes from the Martin Marty Center at the University of Chicago Divinity School.

Why so much concern about Hell?

I've yet to go to Hell and back -- Hell, Michigan that is!   

With that bit of humor I thought I'd weigh into the big debate surrounding hell and universal salvation that has been stirred up by Rob Bell's yet to be released book entitled Love Wins (Harper One, 2011).  I've yet to read the book, so all I can go on is the video, which I've already posted, and the Harper publicity efforts that promise a provocative read (one thing people need to understand about the publishing industry is that if they hope to sell books in this day and age, then publishers have to get provocative). 

With that said, I'd like to ask a question:  Why are people making such a big deal about Hell (not the village in Michigan this time)?  Why do some people think that without a doctrine of Hell the Christian faith crumbles?   

    

If you read the New Testament closely you'll notice that they give at least some attention to an afterlife.  Resurrection is an important doctrine in early Christianity.  The promise of union with God in the heavenly realm figures prominently in the gospel proclamation.  If heaven is part of the equation, so is judgment. 

From the earliest days of Christianity there have been differences of view regarding God's ultimate purpose for humanity.  Some voices seem to hold out the promise of a universal reconciliation (e.g. Rom. 5:18), while others believe that at the very least those who do not believe in Christ will cease to exist (annihilation) if not eternal torment in hell.  I won't go into details here about the nature of all these positions, lets just all agree that there are texts in Scripture that promise judgment and punishment (whatever that may entail).  I will only add that the picture that is in the minds of many as to what this eternal punishment owes more to Dante's Inferno than to Scripture. 

I understand that there are texts that seem to promise eternal punishment and that theologians have taught it down through the ages.   I've been part of the conservative evangelical community.  But, having that said this, I want to ask the question:  why all the fuss about Hell? 

The answer most will give has to do with God's justice or God's honor.  Some might even ask why Jesus even needed to come to earth if there is no hell to rescue people from.  When I was teaching this to college students years ago, one of the responses was simply -- if there's no hell then why bother being a Christian?  I mean if there is no threat of punishment why bother with religion?

I'll confess here and now that I don't believe in hell and I've not believed in hell for close to 30 years.  I abandoned this belief a long time ago (back when I was studying at an evangelical seminary) for several reasons, one of which was that I didn't find the idea of an immortal soul present in Scripture.  Therefore, if one experiences judgment, and then fire, then shouldn't you cease to exist?  But ultimately there was another reason why I could no longer abide the idea that God consigned human beings to eternal punishment in hell.  I could not square this belief with the confession that God is Love.   

So, although I've not read the book, I'm in agreement with the title of Rob Bell's book -- Love Wins.   Think about it for a moment.  Jesus tells us to love not just our neighbors but our enemies (Matt. 5:38-48).  If God expects us to love our enemies and do good to them and for them, then should we expect less of God?  If we believe that a parent's love should be unconditional (yes there's room for discipline, but discipline is designed to restore not exclude) then should we expect less of God?  I simply cannot fathom the idea God's sense of honor or justice is somehow enhanced by the eternal punishment of someone for simply because they either didn't hear the gospel or didn't find it compelling (because of our lives and presentations of it).  If Jesus rejects the "proportionate justice" of an "eye for an eye" then what manner of evil does it take on our part to deserve eternal punishment in a place called Hell?  How does this enhance God's majesty or glory or honor?   If this is heresy, then so be it? 

In closing, let me put it this way:  The argument for universal salvation ultimately rests not on a specific set of biblical texts, but rather it rests upon one’s definition of God’s nature.  If it is assumed that God is love, then is it possible that God would, in the end, discard anyone?  To put it another way, if God is portrayed as a loving parent, can we truly believe that God would reject one’s own child – no matter what they had done?

Who is Going to Heaven? Enquiring Minds Want to Know!

Before anyone decides to register a complaint about the phrasing of the question, suggesting that heaven is metaphor and not fact -- let me just say that for this exercise we're going to err on the side of tradition!  So, then, the question is, according to the studies, who is going to heaven?  Is it just members of the one true religion (whatever that might be) or is everyone going to make it?  Remember that in my last posting I noted that the American people, by and large are faithful, but not fanatical!  Ours is a moderate faith.

The context here is understandings developed within a context of religious diversity.  And the answer to the question -- who gets in?  Well, according to the Faith Matters Survey undertaken by Robert Putnam and David Campbell, 89% of Americans say that people outside one's own faith will get to heaven.  They write:

Their hesitation to adopt a "members only" perspective on who goes to heaven illuminates their positive attitude toward religious diversity.  It is not just that they have adopted Jefferson's minimal standard of avoiding picked pockets and broken legs.  Rather they endorse the legitimacy of others' religious beliefs.  Large majorities of even stricter religious traditions believe in an equal opportunity heaven.  Eighty-three percent of evangelicals, for example, say that other religions can bring salvation; eighty-seven percent of Black Protestants believe so.  (American Grace, p. 535).

Indeed, their studies show that the group with the highest percentage of people saying that a good person not of your faith will get to heaven are Mormon at 98%, with Mainline Protestants coming in second at 96%. 

What is even more interesting is that they're not getting this openness from their clergy.  Indeed, whereas laity by and large have an open view of heaven, even mainline Protestant Clergy take a predominantly exclusivist view.  Consider that 63% of Evangelical Lutheran Church of America (ELCA) clergy say that salvation is through Jesus alone, while 59% of United Methodist and 57% of PCUSA clergy agree.  Now, it's possible that these mainliners have a more nuanced view -- that salvation come through Jesus, but one need not confess Jesus in this life to be welcomed into the presence of God.  This view is often called inclusivist rather than universalist.  I myself would sort of fit into this camp.  But what is clear is that one's view of salvation for those outside one's religion is being determined not by one's clergy, but by one's context living in a pluralist society. 

So, what should we do?  Should we work harder to teach people the "truth"?  Or do we admit that maybe the pluralists have a point?  The fact that even Missouri Synod Lutheran Clergy, one of the most conservative Christian denominations, can't convince their people is telling. 

Faith without Fanticism -- America's Creed

As I continue to blog my way through American Grace, the book I named Book of the Year for 2010, I thought it worth noting this observation about the American people and their religious perspectives. 

Robert Putnam and David Campbell enlighten us about the realities of American religious life.  We may be more "religious" than most other Western nations, but our religious preferences can be well described with a phrase traditionally reserved for Episcopalians -- "In all things moderation."  We're spiritual, even religious, but we're not fanatics.  There is a small core of what the authors call "True Believers," but they make up only 10% of the population.  This is a group that, according to the authors, that "live in religiously monochromatic social environments."  That is, they tend not to marry outside their religious group and are much more insistent that their children remain true to the true faith.  Perhaps more importantly, they have fewer social/kinship ties to people outside their faith community (American Grace, pp. 546-547).  

Here is a kicker that needs to be considered, and I'll be coming back to this point later, is that while 52% of "True Believers" are Evangelicals -- that is, they believe that their faith alone is the true faith -- 75% of Evangelicals cannot be categorized as "True Believers."  And the reason for this?  Well, the message that comes through time and again is that our pluralistic context means that we are simply not able to write off what the authors call our "Aunt Susan's," the members of our kinship circle who are outside our faith tradition.  But, even more common than having someone of another faith in our kinship circle, is our wider friendship circile.  The authors note:

Most Americans have at least one close friend of another religion, and many have multiple friends of other faiths.  Even over a short period of time, we have seen that a small increase in such religious bridging corresponds to warmer feelings toward at least two relatively unpopular religious groups (Mormons and non-religious).  Furthermore, we have seen that a religious bridging can expand American's sense of who is fully a member of the national community. (p. 548).

There is a lot of "exclusivist" yelling going on in our socieity today, but it would appear that these voices represent a very small percentage of the American population.  Of course, as I'll show later, clergy are much less likely than laity, to believe this way!

Maybe the Story of Noah isn't for Kids!

The story of Noah is a favorite of many Sunday School teachers -- isn't it a wonderful story that Noah built an ark so he and his family, along with a pair of each kind of animal might be spared from the flood. But what we don't tell the children is why this big boat has to be built.

My Disciple colleague from the west side of Michigan, Rev. David Stout, using a sort of Mr. Roger's demeanor, tells the story in a way that turns the tables on the usual presentation -- reminding us that maybe this isn't really a kids's tale after all!  The further question concerns the way we interpret Scripture and understand the nature of God.

Gloria in Excelsis Deo -- A Sermon for Christmas Eve

Luke 2:8-20

Shepherds are tending their sheep in the hills near Bethlehem, when to their surprise a choir of angels gathers in the heavens and begins singing Gloria in Excelsis Deo. What a treat that must have been! After all angelic visits don’t happen every day, and it can get a bit boring sitting out there in the fields in the cold of night.

In the spirit of angelic visits, J.B. Phillips tells a wonderful story about the day when a senior angel takes a new recruit on a tour of the cosmos. This rookie angel is quite impressed by the grandeur of the cosmos – who wouldn’t -- but then, as they walk through the multitude of galaxies and stars, the older angel points out a small insignificant star and the planet that orbits around it. To the young angel, this "small rather insignificant sphere turning on its axis . . . looked as dull as a dirty tennis-ball.” Why would this senior angel point out this plant? It seemed so insignificant and unimpressive in light of what she had just seen in her tour of the cosmos. In spite of his first impressions, the guide leaned over and said, look closely because this is the "visited planet."

"You mean, visited by . . ."

Yes, the senior angel replies, it has been "visited by our young Prince of Glory."

Now this news made no sense to the young angel. Why would the Prince of Glory stoop to visit this little planet?

The senior angel replies: it's not for us to know the reason, but remember, God isn’t impressed by size or numbers.

"Do you mean to tell me," he said, "that he stooped so low as to become one of those creeping, crawling creatures of that floating ball?" Yes, said the senior angel, but God would prefer that you not call them "creeping, crawling creatures."

The increasingly skeptical rookie angel, couldn’t see the wisdom of this, and so the mentor takes the recruit back on a little tour of the past so that the younger angel could witness the glorious event described for us by Luke. As they watched this scene from above, they saw a tiny, but intensely bright, light shine in the midst of the darkness, and then they watched as the light was extinguished. The younger angel turned to the older one and asked, why would these creatures do such a stupid thing as to kill the prince of glory? But, then to his amazement, a bright blazing, radiant point of light emerged on the planet. That, said the senior angel is the resurrection of the prince of glory. What a glorious sight it was to behold, but the story isn’t over yet.

Watch said the older to the younger.

As they looked, in place of the dazzling light there was a bright glow which throbbed and pulsated. And then as the Earth turned many times little points of light spread out. A few flickered and died; but for the most part the lights burned steadily, and as they continued to watch, in many parts of the globe there was a glow over many areas.

"You see what is happening?" asked the senior angel. "The bright glow is the company of loyal men and women He left behind, and with His help they spread the glow and now lights begin to shine all over the Earth."

"Yes, yes" said the little angel impatiently, "but how does it end? Will the little lights join up with each other? Will it all be light, as it is in Heaven?"

His senior shook his head. "We simply do not know," he replied. "It is in the Father's hands. Sometimes it is agony to watch and sometimes it is joy unspeakable. The end is not yet, But now I am sure you can see why this little ball is so important. He has visited it. He is working out His Plan upon it."

"Yes, I see, though I don't understand. I shall never forget that this is the visited planet." [J.B. Phillips, "The Angel's Point of View," in Behold that Star: A Christmas Anthology, edited by the Bruderhof, (Farmington, PA: The Plough Publishing Company, 1996), 2-9.]

The angels sing Gloria in Excelsis Deo that night because the Prince of Glory has visited our planet. In visiting our planet in the person of the babe of Bethlehem, God brought into the open the promise of peace and joy for all of creation. It is as Isaiah declared:

For a child has been born for us, a son given to us;

authority rests upon his shoulders;

and he is named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,

Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. (Isa. 9:6 NRSV)

But, the end of this story has yet to be written. As the senior angel said, only God has foresight to know where this story is leading. We don’t even have the same vantage point as the Angel, for we can’t look down upon the flow of history from above. All we can do is join with the Prince of Peace in the work of spreading the joy and the love and the peace that is embodied by the Christmas event. It is our calling as followers of the one whose birth we celebrate this night, to participate in spreading the light of God around the globe.

Tonight we will light our candles and sing "Silent Night" and then go into the world as light bearers with the song "Joy to the World" upon our lips and in our hearts. Like that littlest angel, we may not understand the “hows” and the “whys,” of God’s ways, but let us not forget that this is the visited planet, and that God has chosen to visit us in the one who was born the babe of Bethlehem. Therefore let us join the angels and boldly sing boldly: Gloria in Excelsis Deo!

Salvation Amidst Suffering -- A Lectionary Meditation for the Sunday after Christmas

Isaiah 63:7-9



Hebrews 2:10-18


Matthew 2:13-23

Salvation Amidst Suffering

As we moved through Advent into Christmas, we focused on the emergence of light into the realm of darkness. Where darkness sought to rule the day, light ultimately won the battle. It is a struggle that is marked by the observance of the Solstice, which while not Christian aspects of this observance have been drawn up into our observance of Christmas. The message of light breaking into the darkness is seen in the greeting given to the Christ child by the Angelic chorus, and we see it in the star that led the Magi to the Christ child. Yes, the message of the season is that a great light is shining into the darkness, and the darkness, though it will try, cannot overwhelm it. Despite the message of the season that we have been blessed by the unconquerable light of God, this doesn’t mean that the darkness has given up without a fight. The one who brings light into the world may have arrived, but the darkness will do all that is necessary to extinguish it.

As a fan of the original Star Wars trilogy, I see this Sunday’s texts, especially the Gospel text, representing the theme of the second film in the series – The Empire Strikes Back. Is that not the message of the text from Matthew? Despite the victory won by the incarnation, when light pushed back at the darkness, the darkness has struck back with a vengeance. This leaves us with a question – shall the empire win? And if not, what resources may we bring to bear to resist the darkness? How will the light prevail? And the answer that these three texts seem to deliver is that this effort will involve suffering. The Incarnate One will suffer, but so will those who are identified with him.

In this set of lectionary readings laid out for the Sunday after Christmas, we find much that requires thought and interpretation. We must wrestle with texts that suggest suffering is the path through which salvation makes it way, and we must also deal with passages that suggest that substitutionary atonement might be part of the deal. There is also the slaughter of the innocents to deal with, along with a passage that emerges from a time of concern about the future, a time when suffering continues to hang over the people. Yes, there is much darkness to contend within these texts – human sin and rebellion and cruelty – a reminder that God’s work of bringing wholeness to our broken world doesn’t come easily. But, there is hope present here in this set of texts. Isaiah 63 reminds us that by God’s presence the people are saved, Hebrews suggests that the one who is incarnate has shared our lives and will wipe away our sins. And despite the attempt on his life, Jesus and family escape so that they may live for another day. Yes, but all of this comes in the midst of suffering.

Let us look more closely at our texts, beginning with the selection from Isaiah. Whereas the two Isaiah texts we most closely connect with Advent and Christmas, Isaiah 7 and 9, come from a much earlier period in Israel’s history, a time when Judah is under pressure from enemies north and south, but it remains intact. This text, three verses that emerge from a much longer poem, comes from either the exile, or more likely from the post-exilic period. There is restoration, but this restoration has not come without difficulties. There is a mixture of emotions in the complete poem, but these three verses that lead us into the discussion of salvation in the midst of suffering, calls on us to offer praise to God. As we go forth to resist the darkness, that is itself resisting the light, we must recognize that we go forth in the presence of the one who brings to bear grace, steadfast love, and mercy. Yes, even as God became their savior in the midst of their distress, and saved them through God’s great love and pity, redeeming them and lifting them and carrying them all their days, while things might look bad, God in God’s faithfulness was there to lift them up and carry them. Do you not hear a bit of the Footprints poem in this text?

The Lord replied, "My precious, precious child. I love you, and I would never, never leave you during your times of trial and suffering.

When you saw only one set of footprints,

It was then that I carried you."

If Isaiah holds out the promise of God’s saving presence and offers words of praise in response, the anonymous sermon that goes by the title of the Letter to the Hebrews speaks of the one who has been tested in all things as we have, and therefore is able to wipe away the sins of the people. The passage begins by reminding us that God had thought it fitting that the “pioneer of their salvation” should be made “perfect through sufferings.” This passage seems to suggest that Christ has died in our stead to take care of sins, but it doesn’t define what that means. Perhaps, then, it is better that we stay clear of atonement theory and instead see Christ as the one who, being the pioneer of our salvation, and having tasted life as we experience it, understands that part of experience is suffering. By going through this experience of suffering, indeed, even going through death itself (thought death isn’t mentioned here) we begin to understand the true message of incarnation. This one who came into the world didn’t just make an appearance, but experienced all that we experience, and due to his embrace of God’s mission, faced inordinate suffering. As a result, he has become for us a merciful and faithful high priest before God, representing us before God and as a result wiping away all our sins. He tasted life in the darkness, and brought light instead – but not without experiencing suffering.

The Gospel lesson for this Sunday after Christmas makes us skip over the story of the Magi, which is reserved for the Day of Epiphany. It is a text that offers a story of salvation, but it also offers the most graphic description of the manner in which darkness resists the light. Here is the story of Herod and the “Slaughter of the Innocents.” Herod is the one who builds the grand Temple in Jerusalem, but whose own sins are so great that he stands among the pantheon of history’s cruelest tyrants. As Matthew tells the story, Herod reenacts the story of Pharaoh’s slaughter of the Hebrew male children, by having his soldiers massacre all the male children two years and younger. In the case of Herod, the malevolent despot fears anyone who would threaten his hold on the throne, even a small and innocent child. Although there isn’t any historical evidence that Herod ordered the slaughter of the male children of Bethlehem, such an action wasn’t beyond the capabilities of this ruler, who had members of his own family killed lest they try to supplant him. Yes, because he was cruel and sadistic, such an act represents well his personality. And he does stand forth as a symbol of the empire of darkness.

In this story, the child who would be a threat to his throne escapes due to an angelic vision. A father has a dream, and as a result, takes his family to safety in Egypt, reversing the trip the Hebrews took from slavery in Egypt to the freedom of the Promised Land. Isn’t it ironic that the land of light had become a place of darkness?

And the message here? Could it be that the mission of God often comes with a cost to those involved? In this story, the suffering comes not to the one through whom the darkness is defeated, but those near him. We call this collateral damage. Why, we ask, must this be so?

Perhaps the answer to the question of why suffering is part of the story is that darkness will not allow the light to take root without a struggle that leads to suffering. Yes, the darkness will not give up easily. Jesus may have, according to Matthew, survived this first onslaught of darkness unscathed, but as we continue reading, we’ll discover that darkness, and with it suffering, will not go away without a fight. Yes, even as Rachel weeps for her children, a day will come when Mary will weep for her child. But, darkness will not have the last word. Christmas marks the beginning, but a full orbed gospel includes Good Friday and Easter. There is joy and there is sadness. There is victory and seeming defeat. But the reality here is that in the end, the God who comes to us not with violence, but with peace, will bring us healing and salvation.

It's a Boy! -- An Advent Sermon

Matthew 1:18-25

Four Advent candles are now lit, which means that Christmas is close at hand. Except for some last minute shopping, mostly by husbands, all the packages should be wrapped, and either put under the tree or mailed. The kids, of course, are getting anxious. They’re shaking the packages and wondering about what’s inside the box. If it rattles, then it can’t be underwear or socks, and if it does rattle, then the imagination goes wild! Of course, everyone is on their best behavior, hoping that their fondest wishes will be fulfilled. But as you can see there’s still one candle that needs to be lit. The first four candles call on us to live lives of hope, peace, joy, and love, as we prepare ourselves to receive into our lives the full presence of God in the person of the Christ child. This last candle, the Christ Candle, represents the light that shines into the darkness of our world, lighting a pathway so that we might truly experience hope, peace, joy and love that are represented by the candles that we’ve already lit.

1. A MURKY START

As we ponder the meaning of these candles that we’ve been lighting these past four Sundays, and then look over at the Christmas tree, which is enwrapped by a multitude of lights, it should become clearer that part of the message of Christmas is enlightenment. For a moment let your mind drift to your evening drives through the many neighborhoods that we inhabit. Think of all the houses bedecked with Christmas lights. Normally dark streets can come alive with brightly colored lights, shining into the ever increasing winter darkness.

Even as Christmas is on the horizon, so is the Winter Solstice. In just two days, we will reach the point where the darkness of night reaches its fullest extent of the year, before the sun begins to reclaim the day from the darkness of night. It may be true that Constantine merged the Roman observance of the Solstice with Christmas, and that many of our Christmas traditions have their roots in this observance, but maybe that’s okay – as long as we recognize this to be true. Perhaps it’s appropriate that at the point at which the light of the sun pushes back the night, we will be celebrating the coming of the Son of God into the World to push back the darkness that has tried to take hold in our world.

This message of enlightenment is also present in the two gospel stories of Christ’s birth. Luke speaks of the angelic glory that breaks into the night sky, revealing the glory that is God, while Matthew speaks of a star that draws a group of sages from the east so that they might honor the one who is born king of the Jews.

There is much beauty in the traditional telling of the Christmas story, but we can also fall into a trap of romanticizing the story. Carols like “Away in a manger” envision the little Lord Jesus lying sound asleep, without a worry in his head, while Mary and Joseph, are surrounded by shepherds and magi, cooing at the little child. But, the biblical story is a bit more complicated than many of our beloved carols would suggest.

As Matthew tells it, an angel visits Joseph in a dream, and says to him: “Fear not.” Do you remember these words from last Sunday’s Cantata? “Fear not Joseph.” You see, Joseph has something to be concerned about. His betrothed is pregnant, and he’s not the father. By every right he can cast Mary off in shame, but being a good man, he wants to put her away quietly. But the angel, tells Joseph: Go ahead, get married, because this child, which Mary carries, is from the Holy Spirit, and he is a sign to the world that God is with us. In this dream Joseph learns the true message of Christmas: God is present and at work redeeming the world, through a mother and her child. Yes, Matthew’s story of Jesus’ birth is truly one of redemption, but before Jesus can redeem the world, Joseph must first redeem him and his mother, by claiming this boy as his own and by giving him a name, so he can have a future. Only then can he claim us as his own.

There are also hints of this redemption story encrypted in Matthew’s genealogy. Genealogies are fun, especially when we find skeletons in the closet. Those skeletons can be just as exciting to us as the family’s shining stars. Over all, this list that links Joseph to David and Abraham is unremarkable, except for the four women it mentions. Yes, four important but unusual women, appear in Jesus’ genealogy. Although Matthew doesn’t say anything about them, if we know their stories then we get a fuller picture of this one whose birth we’re about to celebrate. One of these women, Tamar, seduces her father-in-law, Judah, because he failed to provide for her. Rahab is the Harlot from Jericho who saves the Hebrew spies, while Ruth is a Moabite woman, a foreigner, whose great-grandson is none other than David. Finally, there’s Uriah’s wife, who bears David a son. Each woman plays a significant role in the life of God’s people and each woman, as is true of Mary, is claimed by God for a purpose. Yes, the Christmas story is one of redemption, Had Joseph not claimed Jesus as his son, then Jesus would have been born with a stigma. Fortunately, Joseph listened to the angel and took away that stigma, even as Jesus takes away ours by claiming us as his own. The story of Christmas reminds us that God doesn’t stand above the fray, untouched by human emotion and tragedy, No, even though darkness may surround us, God is present as the light that cannot be extinguished.

2. THE WORD OF SALVATION

Matthew says very little about Jesus’ birth, but he does emphasize the naming of Jesus. Unlike today, names back then carried meaning. When we name our children we don’t think about what these names mean, we simply choose names that are either popular in our culture or represent a family relationship. Since most parents want to make sure that their kids don’t have odd names, unless, of course, they’re from Hollywood, so today we see a lot more Jacobs and Isabellas in the nation’s nurseries than we do Gertrudes or Homers. As all parents know, picking out a name for a child isn’t easy, but in this case the parents had help from an angel, who tells Joseph to name the child, who is to be born to Mary, Yeshua, which means "he will save his people from their sins." By giving him this name, Joseph affirms God’s call on the life of Jesus, who will bring healing to a fragmented and broken world. Yes, in him the world’s pain, suffering, disappointment, and terror will be replaced with hope, peace, joy, and love. Because of him, the darkness that lays claim to our world will begin to dissipate and lose its hold on our lives. In giving him this name, Joseph is affirming God’s choice to redeem us, even as God chose to redeem and work through Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, and Uriah’s wife, better known to us as Bathsheba.

3. EMMANUEL IS WITH US

As we consider Matthew’s presentation of the Christmas story, we find ourselves standing on a river bank, looking across the water, into the Promised Land. While we can see Christmas on the horizon, Advent isn’t finished with us yet. Remember the words of our opening hymn: "O Come, O Come, Emmanuel, and ransom captive Israel, that mourns in lonely exile here, until the Son of God to appear. " Is this not the cry of our hearts, that God’s realm would come in its fulness bringing to our land hope and peace and justice? If we’re willing to join with God in this work of redemption by living into the realm of God, we’ll be ready to join in singing the chorus of this hymn: "Rejoice, rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel!"

Yes, as the angel said to Joseph, you shall call him “Emmanuel” for God is with us, binding our wounds and setting us free. This hope is well stated, as the hymn continues: . "O come, Desire of nations, bind all peoples in one heart and mind; bid envy, strife and quarrels cease; fill the whole world with heaven's peace."

Although we live in a world torn by war and strife, our own lives need not be torn by bitterness and disappointment, for Emmanuel has come to “bind all peoples in one heart and mind” and fill the world with “heaven’s peace.” The choice is ours – will we accept this offer to live into God’s realm? Are we willing to cross the river into the Promised Land?

When we gather Friday evening to celebrate the coming of Emmanuel into our world, we will light the Christ Candle and gather joyfully to sing the songs of the season, before sharing together in the sign of Christ’s everlasting presence at the Lord’s Table. As we move through this week, may we prepare ourselves to hear a proud father named Joseph cry out to all who would listen: “It’s a boy.” And when we hear this proud father shout out in joy, we can offer our reply by singing: “come and worship, come and worship, worship Christ, the new-born King” (Angels, from the Realms of Glory, refrain).

 

Preached by:

Dr. Robert D. Cornwall

Pastor, Central Woodward Christian Church

Troy, MI

4th Sunday of Advent

December 19, 2010

The Coming of the Lord

Habakkuk 1:1-4; 2:1-4



2 Thessalonians 1:1-4, 11-12


Luke 19:1-10

The Coming of the Lord

Whenever preachers look at the week’s lectionary texts they tend to look for any common threads. Sometimes, in our eagerness to find the threads, we push the envelope, and I suppose that I could be accused of that in titling today’s meditation. Except that each of the texts, even the Gospel text, speaks of the coming of the Lord. It is true that in Luke’s gospel, the Lord is simply inviting himself over for dinner at Zacchaeus’s house, but it still has that “eschatological flavor” that is present in the other two texts. In the Lord’s coming, there is salvation. And salvation involves or leads to righteousness – a word that needs defining.

The Habakkuk text closes with the phrase “The righteous shall live by faith,” a phrase that is repeated in Romans 1:17 (not the lectionary reading for the week). This phrase proved troubling to Martin Luther, who saw in it the possibility of “work’s righteousness,” and so he wanted to emphasize the faith part of it, and insist that whatever righteousness is involved, that righteousness comes from Christ and not our own works. But that doesn’t seem to be the concern of Habakkuk. In these two brief selections from this so-called Minor Prophet, we hear the cry of a suffering people, who were witnessing in their midst violence, wrong-doing, and trouble-making. Indeed, considering the political bickering of the moment, these words stand out: “strife and contention arise.” The prophet is wondering when God will respond, going as far as declaring that he would stand at his watch post and keep watch until God answers his complaint. It is then that the Lord responds, telling him to write down a vision on a tablet that the runner can take around to the people. And the word that came to the people was this: “If it seems to tarry, wait for it; it will surely come. It will not delay.” And then comes the kicker – be sure to look at the proud, for their spirit isn’t right – but “the righteous will live by faith.” And what is faith? It is living by trusting God? What is righteousness? It is God’s justice – God’s commitment to the poor and the marginalized of society. It may not have been what Luther had in mind at the time, but that seems to be what was on Habakkuk’s mind.

The second text, the one that comes from 2 Thessalonians serves as a response to concerns that the “parousia” or the return of Christ had already come. To use the title of a recent series of “apocalyptic themed books” they were afraid they had been “Left Behind,” and so the author (presumably Paul, but there are questions about authorship) offers a word of assurance. Don’t worry, because before anything like that happens you’ll start seeing the signs of rebellion and the rise of the lawless one, who will seat himself on God’s throne in the Temple, declaring himself to be God. But, don’t get too concerned, and don’t be alarmed by any “spirit, word, or letter” claiming to be from us declaring that the “day of the Lord” is already here. The Lord is coming, but don’t believe everything you hear. But the word that we need to hear comes at the end, in verses 11-12, which offers a word a judgment against those who take “pleasure in unrighteousness.” That is, those who fail to believe the truth and follow the Lawless One by living lives of unrighteousness. And what is meant by unrighteousness? Surely the definition is rooted in the message of the prophets, who call on the people of God to act justly toward those who are poor, to the widow, and the orphan.

Finally, we come to the story of Zacchaeus, one of the best known stories in the New Testament. We know this story because Zacchaeus seems to always be the butt of “short-people” jokes. He’s so short, he has to climb a tree to see Jesus. But it should be noted that this story falls on the heels of the previous week’s lectionary text where the attitudes of the Pharisee and the Tax Collector are compared. The Pharisee is sure of his own righteousness and needs no help from God; while the tax collector humbly asks that God take mercy on him, for he is a miserable sinner. Now, in this text, which follows on that parable, we meet up with a real tax collector who is keen on seeing Jesus. And, as a result the Lord decides to come to his house. Although the “righteous” folks in town are scandalized that Jesus would hang out with a sinner, Zacchaeus, the chief tax agent in Jericho, is so pleased by Jesus’ willingness to come to his house that he vows to change his life. And how might he do this? He commits himself to giving half of his possessions to the poor (an act of righteousness) and will repay those he has defrauded four times the amount that he had taken from them (considering that this is how he made his money – the profit that lies beyond what he had to give to Rome, he was essentially doing what Jesus asked of the rich young man (Luke 17:18ff) – he committed himself to giving everything he had and in return Jesus says that salvation had come to this house. He had committed himself to live by faith and doing so had become righteous.

The two messages that are embedded in these texts are these: First, the day of the Lord is coming, so keep watch, because God is faithful and will come at the appropriate time. And second the “righteous shall live by faith,” which means that if we’re trusting our lives into the care of God, we should live in the interim period in such a way that the righteousness of God will be on display – a righteousness that is illustrated by the decisions made by Zacchaeus.

 

Reposted from [D]mergent

Being a Christian in Today's World -- A Sermon

Luke 10:25-37

Growing up, my world seemed pretty simple. Being religious meant being a Christian. I didn't know many Jews, Muslims, Hindus, or Buddhists. I didn't really even know anything about them. About as exotic as any of my friends got was being a Mormon. Today things are different, even if we don't always notice it. Mosques, synagogues, and Temples are everywhere. Just go two miles up Adams, and you’ll see a Hindu Temple under construction. Continue on up to Auburn Road and take a right, as you head toward Rochester Road, you’ll see two different mosques, one on the left and one on the right. Further down you’ll find an Albanian Catholic church, and then coming back down John R, at the corner of Long Lake, you’ll find a Romanian Pentecostal church. Turning right on Wattles, you’ll come to a Serbian Orthodox Church sitting next to Troy Athens High School, and then further on down Wattles, you’ll find a Croatian Catholic Church, a Greek Orthodox Church, a Jehovah’s Witness church, and a Reformed Jewish Synagogue. Scattered all along this route you’ll find Catholic, Episcopal, Lutheran, evangelical, Presbyterian, Methodist, and many other traditions. This is just a bit of the religious world I experience all the time, driving around this community.

It is common to hear people say, I'm not religious, but I am spiritual. People who speak of themselves in such a manner tend to be theologically eclectic and often stay clear of the kinds of religious communities I just mentioned. They’re concerned that such entities, whether big or small, Christian or not, might put boundaries on their ability to pick and choose what they believe and practice. With all of this religious diversity, from the institutional to the non-institutional, what does it mean to be a Christian? Or perhaps better, what does it mean to be a follower of Jesus in today’s world?

1. Being a Follower of Jesus Today

To get this admittedly rhetorical conversation going, I’ll give you a definition of what it means to be a Christian. Your definition might differ from mine, but that’s okay. This is just the beginning of our conversation.

A Christian is a follower of Jesus whose life is formed by a relationship with the God whom Jesus revealed to the world, when he took on flesh, lived, and died, and then was raised from the dead, so that in him all things might be made new. Yes, and a Christian is someone who loves God with all of their heart, soul, mind and strength, and then loves one’s neighbor as oneself.

Maybe your definition adds to or subtracts from this brief statement, but hopefully we can all agree that if we love God and seek to follow Jesus, then this relationship with God will impact the way we live our lives.

In order for us to stay in relationship with God, we must nourish that relationship by spending time in God's presence. There are many spiritual practices that can aid in nurturing the faith we profess. We can talk to God through our prayers and listen for God's voice in quiet meditation. We can read and contemplate the scriptures, aided by other devotional and theological works. There is music and there is nature, which stir our souls and lead us back to the God who made all of this possible. Nurturing this relationship can and should happen both in moments spent alone with God and in moments spent in the company of others – especially as we gather together at the Lord’s Table. This love for God, which is nurtured by our faith practices, should lead naturally to loving our neighbor. As the prophet Micah put it, God has called us to "do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with your God" (Mic. 6:8).

2. Living in Right Relationship with Your Neighbor

But, who is this neighbor that we’re supposed to love? That’s what the lawyer wanted to know! He wanted to know where the boundaries were. From the nature of the discussion it would appear that his neighborhood was smaller than that of Jesus.

Jesus answered the lawyer’s question with a parable that turned his world and ours upside down. It wouldn’t be a priest or a Levite, the religious leaders of the day, who would exemplify this love of neighbor. Instead, it would be a Samaritan. This suggestion must have repulsed the lawyer, who likely viewed Samaritans as dirty, evil, and detestable! To get a sense of his surprise, think in terms of an illegal alien from Mexico giving aid to a white suburbanite in Phoenix, as a pastor and an elder from a good middle class Protestant church pass by.

Mohandas Gandhi wasn’t a Christian, but he offers us a good example of the kind of neighbor Jesus is envisioning. It’s interesting that Jesus was one of the influences on Gandhi’s ethic of nonviolence. He took seriously Jesus' call to turn the other cheek and he used it effectively to lead his people to independence, in part by reminding the British of the teachings of their own faith. Gandhi would have appreciated the question everyone was asking just a few years back: “What would Jesus do?” Although Jesus didn't give us instructions on how to deal with modern technology or national policy discussions, he did show us how to love God and neighbor. I don't know what kind of car he would drive – remember he was known for walking -- but I do think that Jesus would have agreed with Micah, when the prophet says that God requires of us justice, loving kindness, and humility as we walk with God.

• 
  
  JUSTICE:

Martin Luther King had a dream "that one day this nation will rise up, and live out the true meaning of its creed: we hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal." We still haven't reached that day. Racism and discrimination are still with us. After 9/11 many Muslims became victims of prejudice and fear. Christian preachers continue to disparage Islam, Muhammad, and Muslims. Then there’s the issue of immigration, which we as a nation have been unable to resolve. In calling us to love our neighbor, I believe that Jesus wants us to work for the good of everyone, no matter their religion, politics, national origin, gender, sexual orientation, race, or social class.

Although we all fall short in this calling, sometimes things begin to change for us when a new relationship stirs us to action. I had never really thought much about the place of women in church or society until I met Kari. We worked together at a Christian book store when I was in seminary. We quickly became close friends, and since both of us were studying theology and ministry – she at a local Bible college and me at the seminary – we talked a lot about her call to ministry. Although she had the gifts and the calling, her faith community put limits on what she could do. Through our friendship I received a gentle nudge from the Spirit to become an advocate for the equality of women in church and society. Some of you may have felt a similar push from the Spirit on other issues. Being a Christian means being an advocate for justice and that means advocating for the equality of all human beings, even those we don't agree with!

• 
  
  LOVING KINDNESS:

Christian faith leads to compassion and mercy toward others, no matter who they are. The Samaritan didn't ask the injured man about his religion, race, economic status, immigration status, sexual orientation, or political affiliation. He was simply moved with pity for a person in need. Consider Mother Theresa, she didn’t ask about the background of the lepers she served in India. She saw the need and got busy. Sharing God’s loving kindness with my neighbor might lead me to volunteer with hospice, serve meals at a homeless shelter, build houses in Mexico or in Detroit, or care for AIDS victims as they face death.

• 
  
  HUMILITY:

Being a Christian also means being humble. Humility recognizes that we don't have all the answers. It leaves room for doubt, and it allows us to listen to the voice of others. We like to be right and we want our answers black and white, with no shades of gray. As Joe Friday used to say, "Just the facts, ma'am." But, in today's postmodern, pluralistic world we must be ready to hear God’s voice in unexpected ways. Disciple pastor Jan Linn speaks of living with "clear ambiguity." That is, sometimes the answers we seek are "as clear as mud." (Jan Linn, How to be an Open-minded Christian without Losing Your Faith, Chalice Press, 2002, p.72).

As Christians living in the 21st Century, we face difficult and complicated questions, and often we don’t have a clear and unequivocal word from God. Issues like the environment, immigration, war, divorce, homosexuality, the use of alcohol, capital punishment, abortion, and the role of women in the church all stand before us. Devout Christians take stands on all sides of these issues, so, what should we do? It takes humility to stop and listen to the other side. History can help us in this. Remember that in the 19th century many Christians believed that it was okay to have slaves. After all, Paul told slaves to obey their masters. It took a war to get our attention, but today most American Christians abhor slavery.

It isn't easy being a Christian. But then justice, compassion, and humility don't come easily. Fortunately, we have a loving and gracious God, who is slow to anger and quick to show mercy. God's wondrous grace allows us to take risks. If we fall, the Spirit is there to lift us up. So, as we consider our calling to be a Christian in today's world, let us recite and meditate upon the “Prayer of St. Francis,” (Chalice Hymnal, 468), praying that God will make each of us an instrument of God’s peace in today's world.

 

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace;

where there is hatred, let me sow love;

where there is injury, pardon:

where there is doubt, faith ;

where there is despair, hope

where there is darkness, light

where there is sadness, joy

O divine Master,

grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;

to be understood, as to understand;

to be loved, as to love;

for it is in giving that we receive,

it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,

and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.

Amen.

Preached by:
Dr. Robert D. Cornwall
Pastor, Central Woodward Christian Church (Disciples of Christ)
Troy, Michigan
July 11, 2010
7th Sunday after Pentecost

A Healing Presence -- A Sermon

Luke 8:26-39

What do Aimee Semple McPherson, Katherine Kuhlman, Benny Hinn and Jesus have in common? The answer: They all connected healing with faith. I realize that putting Jesus in the company of these other faith healers may seem inappropriate to many, but I think it will help us think about how Jesus’ healing ministry should be understood. There have always been those who claim to heal in the name of God. Some have been shysters and frauds, but others have brought gifts of grace and healing to the lives of many. Some have used the tools of modern medicine, while others have turned to alternative forms of healing, including prayer and anointing with oil. Jesus is among those who have brought God’s healing presence into our lives in ways that are beyond a scientifically-based medicine. The healing stories involving Jesus are often dramatic, but they also raise questions. If Jesus can heal this demoniac or Blind Bartimaeus, why not me?

People of faith often wrestle with the relationship of faith and healing. While pray for the healing of our loved ones, perhaps hoping that God will do something “miraculous,” most of us also go to the doctor and take our medicine. That is, even while we pray we look to human wisdom for healing. And yet, we also sense that prayer could and should play a role in this process.

In recent years, the scientific community has sensed that spirituality or prayer might play a role in healing, and they’ve done studies to figure out the relationship. Some of these studies seem rather silly, and none of these studies have truly explained how all of this works, which isn’t surprising since people of faith understand that God usually works at deeper levels than can be perceived by science. Still, even if these studies are inconclusive, they suggest that we’re more than the sum of our body parts and that people of faith tend to recover better and faster.

This cautious embrace of spirituality by the medical community is controversial, and a degree of skepticism is always healthy, for we don’t want to fall prey to the quacks and frauds and other purveyors of false hopes. At the same time it’s appropriate to recognize that we are -- to use a medical term -- a psychosomatic whole. Because we seem to be more than simply a mass of carbon-based atoms magnetically linked together, there may be room for God to act in the healing process. Bruce Epperly, who has been writing a series of blog posts for me on the topic of healing makes this point quite directly:

Progressive Christians are challenged to consider the possibility that Jesus was able to achieve what many contemporary holistic and spiritual healers as well as faithful Christians at liturgical healing services regularly experience - the transformation of the whole person through healing touch, anointing with oil, reiki, prayer, or laying on of hands.1

1. Jesus and the Gerasene Demoniac

If we look closely at the gospels we’ll discover that healing forms a major part of Jesus’ ministry. In fact, healing stories, whether physical or spiritual, make up nearly 20% of the Gospel texts. There’s the man with an unclean spirit and Peter's mother-in-law, a leper and a man with a withered hand, there’s Jairus' daughter and the woman with the hemorrhages. Morton Kelsey says that "wherever Jesus went he was simply besieged by the people who wanted to be healed." Even his enemies didn't "contest the fact that Jesus healed; they only tried to cast doubts upon the agency through which he did it."2

This morning we hear the story of Jesus’ encounter with the Gerasene demoniac after crossing the Sea of Galilee into Gentile territory. As soon as he lands, he’s accosted by a naked man who runs out of the cemetery shouting incoherently at him. Obviously this guy’s out of his mind! Tormented and seemingly beyond help, his neighbors have tried to keep him under control by chaining him up, but each time they do this, he breaks loose and hides out in the cemetery – homeless, naked, and forgotten. The man Jesus encounters is of two minds – part of him wants help, but the other resists. He shouts at Jesus: "What do you want of me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God?" While Jesus could have turned away from the man, he doesn’t. Instead, he reaches out to the man in compassion and confronts the demons that bind him, releasing him from the hold of “Legion,” which interestingly enough leads to the death of a herd of pigs.

You might be wondering how this text speaks to the question of healing. Well, Luke like many of his contemporaries, made no distinction between healing and exorcisms. To heal was to engage evil in spiritual battle, and therefore Luke understands Jesus’ healings to be signs that the kingdom of God is spreading its influence. These healings are also expressions of Jesus’ own calling to “seek out and save the lost” (Lk 19:10). Healing and saving are really the same thing. They bring wholeness where there is brokenness. Whatever our modern diagnosis might be, this tormented man was experiencing brokenness, and Jesus brought wholeness to his life. The man’s neighbors came and found him to be “clothed and in his right mind.” Interestingly, their response was one of fear, a fear that led them to encourage Jesus’ departure.

  

2. God’s Healing Presence

It’s clear from the Scriptures that God is the source of healing, but if this is true, then why doesn't God heal everybody? We all know people, people who are close to us, for whom we pray, perhaps daily, hoping for a cure, and yet we don’t see them healed. There are those who say that maybe God healed back in the bible days God doesn’t do that sort of thing anymore. I’m afraid that explanation doesn’t work for me, because it suggests that rather than being present in our lives today, God is absent. Others say that God will heal you, if you have enough faith, but that sounds kind of cruel. Besides this guy doesn’t seem to have all that much faith, and yet Jesus heals him. And, I’ve known people with plenty of faith who never experience physical healing.

Consider the story of my high school youth minister. Steve died a number of years ago from stomach cancer. He was probably in his early 40s then. He had a wife and children, and pastored a church. He believed in healing and his church practiced it and prayed for it. In fact, they prayed intensely and continually that Steve would be healed. They claimed his healing, and as I’ve heard the story told, the church kept everyone away who had doubts about whether God was going to heal him. If all it took was faith, then surely Steve would be alive today.

So what do we do with these biblical texts that suggest that Jesus was involved in healing the bodies and the minds of people? I’m tempted to leave them be, and just rest in the mystery that is God. But to do so, means turning my back on stories that can have a transformative effect on our lives. I may be more of a rationalist than a mystic, but even I believe that God is at work in our lives, bringing wholeness and even healing to them. It doesn’t always happen immediately or in the way we might expect or desire. Sometimes it’s a rather slow and gradual process. Bruce Epperly writes:

I believe that God moves toward wholeness within all things, but most of the time, the divine quest for abundant life is revealed in gradual, almost imperceptible ways. Our health and illness, and the healing process occur in the context of factors such as DNA, physical condition, economics, health care accessibility and treatment, faith, and community support, along with our prayers and the prayers of others and movements of God in our lives. When a cure occurs, God is always the ultimate source, even though God works relationally and persuasively through the many factors of life, from meditation to medication, and contemplation to chemotherapy.

There are times when people are cured, but healing isn’t always about curing. Healing can take place in a number of ways, but as Bruce notes, God is always involved, even if the context of this healing is found in modern medicine, psychotherapy, or other therapies. While not everyone is cured, if healing is understood to mean wholeness, then this wholeness can be experienced in ways that do not always involve physical wholeness. Sometimes it involves finding peace in the midst of an illness or a disability.

In my reading of Scripture, it seems appropriate that we come before God and ask God’s blessing for people who are hurting. It’s appropriate to anoint the sick, the injured, and the dying with oil, as a sign of God’s grace. We do this while praying that the one we love will experience wholeness of body, mind, and spirit, always acknowledging that healing comes in different forms. It could be physical, but it might also be spiritual.

In the early church, when a person was sick, they called for the elders to come and anoint with oil and pray for the one in need. Oil was used in part because it was believed to have medicinal value, but it was also believed that when accompanied by prayer, God would be present in the healing process. Faith and medicine need not be seen as two ships passing in the night. We can embrace both in the pursuit of wholeness of body and spirit. And when we find that we’re whole again – whether or not we’re cured -- it’s appropriate to give thanks and share the good news. After Jesus brought healing to the Gerasene man, he told him to share the good news with his neighbors, who, to tell the truth were a bit disturbed to see this man, whom they had thought was under the control of demons, once again in his right mind. And the same is true for us – when God has touched our lives, we’re called to make that known to the world.

 

1. 
   
    Bruce Epperly, “Did Jesus Cure Anybody?” Ponderings on a Faith Journey, http://pastorbobcornwall.blogspot.com/2010/06/did-jesus-cure-anybody-bruce-epperly.html
2. 
   
   Morton Kelsey, Healing and Christianity, (Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1995), 45.
3. 
   
   Bruce Epperly, “The Gift of Gradual Healing,” Ponderings on a Faith Journey,
   http://pastorbobcornwall.blogspot.com/2010/06/gift-of-gradual-healing-bruce-epperly.html

Preached by:
Dr. Robert D. Cornwall
Pastor, Central Woodward Christian Church (Disciples of Christ)
Troy, Michigan
June 20, 2010
4th Sunday after Pentecost

Resurrection and the Nature of Salvation

We have been thinking about the resurrection of late -- both that of Jesus and more generally.  Resurrection fits in with other related issues, including judgment and salvation.  I'll leave off the discussion of judgment for the moment, except to say that in one form or another judgment does take place.  But more to the point of salvation.  

In today's study groups, we'll be looking at N.T. Wright's consideration of the "Hope of Salvation."  In that context we must ask what salvation entails?  Does it mean, being pulled off the earth to live in some "heavenly estate," most likely disembodied - a sort of Caspar the Friendly Ghost?  For our discussion, I'd like to throw out a statement from Wright's book Surprised By Hope.

As long as we see salvation in terms of going to heaven when we die, the main work of the church is bound to be seen in terms of saving souls for that future.  But when we see salvation, as the New Testament sees it, in terms of God's promised new heavens and new earth and of our promised resurrection to share in that new and gloriously embodied reality -- what I have called life after life after death -- then the main work of the church here and now demands to be rethought in consequence.  (Surprised by Hope, p. 197)

So, the question is -- how does our view of salvation impact our view of life before death?

Wright notes that the New Testament understanding of salvation starts with life here and now.  We enjoy it partially, but it is there for us to experience and live out.  As Wright ruminates about salvation, I'm reminded of the Disciples of Christ identity statement:  "A Movement of Wholeness in a Fragmented World."  What we do and say, the invitation we give, is a means to bring wholeness/healing/salvation to a world that is broken and fragmented.  We do not bring this in its fullness, but we work toward it.  

Wright offers:  

For the first Christians, the ultimate salvation was all about God's new world, and the point of what Jesus and the apostles were doing when they were healing people or being rescued from shipwreck or whatever was that this was a proper anticipation of that ultimate salvation, that healing transformation of space, time, and matter.  The future rescue that God had planned and promised was starting to come true in the present.  We are saved not as souls but as wholes.  (pp. 198-199).   

 Wholeness for a fragmented world -- salvation!