Preaching and Teaching

Western Presbyterian Church

Washington, D.C.

21 February 2010

Text: Luke 4:1-13

I’m sure there are some people who were waiting to hear what Tiger Woods had to say this week. The golfer was caught with a text message to a lover a while ago, and it seems that everything has fallen apart in his life since then.

I actually have a hard time following the story. It’s like a bad car wreck and I’m not even tempted to rubberneck. It just reminds me of the frailty of human life. No matter how rich, strong, successful, or talented you are, there always seems to be some weakness.

After 11 years in the ministry, I have talked to a lot of people who struggle with temptations. It’s odd the desires are different for different people. For some, there are sexual temptations–affairs, pornography, or prostitution. Sometimes it doesn’t seem to be about the sex, but more about the affection. There’s a craving for compliments, being held, and being desired. There might be a natural longing that can become destructive when we look to fulfill that yearning in the wrong ways.

For others it’s food, people are tempted to eat too much or starve themselves. For some it’s a chemical dependence on alcohol, drugs, or prescription medication.

For others it is work—they cannot stop working. They are sure that everything will fall apart if they go on vacation, and when they are on vacation, they cannot stop checking emails. Our technology feeds into this sort of addiction quite handily. Our gadgets were often sold to us as a way to get away from the office and still get our work done, but now they’ve turned into a way in which we can never leave the office. The work and the expectation to work are always with us.

Some people are addicted to anger, and they blow up and do things that they would never do in more levelheaded moments. It’s just that their own fears overtake them, and in order to combat those anxieties, they have this anger. When anger is unleashed in our bodies, we can feel a surge of power, and we can make other people afraid. Even though we do not like the consequences, we cannot seem to stop the cycle, because of that seemingly invincible rush of power that takes over.

It is different for different people. I have a friend whose greatest temptation is gambling. When she told me that, I just remembered going to the casinos in Louisiana. They often had the best food, but it was the oddest thing to watch people at the slot machines. They were glossy-eyed and sometimes they would have two machines going at one time.

One time, I decided that I would spend twenty dollars on slots. I wanted to understand the appeal. It did nothing for me. In fact, after ten dollars, I had to quit, because I felt like I could throw the money out on the street and it would do more good.

Gambling is not my temptation, but food depravation and working too much are. You see, I can boldly confess these things to you because these temptations to you, because they’re not shameful in our society. Our society congratulates people who are productive and thin, and it keeps awarding us even when we overwork and starve our bodies. Unfortunately, the two temptations conspire together. I work through breakfast; I work through lunch. I work, and I forget to eat.

I notice these temptations are common sins for women. There is a myth in our society that successful women put less hours into their jobs, because they have a better work/life balance. Especially, younger feminists. We’re supposed to have a good handle on all of this. That may be true for some women. But studies have shown that if you put a successful woman next to a successful man, the woman typically puts in more hours. This is, in part to crack the glass ceiling. It is also because we have to overcome the stereotype that we are going to work less than men. (It’s a vicious cycle.)

It is interesting that right after Jesus was baptized, and the Holy Spirit gently flew down like a beautiful dove, then it says that the Spirit hurled him into the wilderness for a time of testing and temptation. In the Greek, in Mark’s original account, the verb is just that harsh. Jesus was driven into the wilderness, to fast and pray for forty days—and to be tempted.

And it is interesting to see what tempted Jesus. First it was food, but after not eating for that long, anyone would be tempted by bread. It was also power. Jesus was tempted to gain power in inappropriate ways. This is fascinating because Jesus is known for his servant leadership. He is known for washing the feet of his friends, and carrying the cross. But I wonder if Jesus struggled more with all of that–even more than most people. I mean, when the adversary went to tempt Jesus, it was not with slot machines, sex, drugs, but it was with power.

I think it’s safe to say that many of us here in Washington have that in common with Jesus. People want power and they will try to gain it at all costs. Whether that means making up lies, slandering others, backstabbing friends, silencing minorities, ignoring the poor—it is a great temptation. We might be like Jesus, in the sense that we want the power so that we can eventually use it for good things, but we still have to fight the temptation of getting the power in the wrong way.

As we enter Lent, we are reminded of this dynamic in all of our lives. Our temptations may be different, but they are there.

How do we resist them? Some of this might seem completely elementary, but as anyone who has been caught with his or her hand in the proverbial cookie jar, we know that we can end up acting like children. So, I guess it’s good to remind each other of the basics.

First, identify what your temptations are. If your sins are ones that are encouraged by our society, like mine are, they can be hard to identify. But a close friend or spouse can usually tell you exactly what they are. In fact, they probably already have.

Sometimes we can’t hear them, if we’re not ready to identify our temptations. I knew a guy a few years ago who went in for counseling, and the therapist started asking about his drinking habits. He kept telling the therapist, “I don’t have a problem with drinking.” She kept asking the usual questions about how much he drank and when he drank and what sort of social situations he drank in. He refused to answer her and never went back to therapy again.

I don’t know if he has a problem, but I do know that if he does, he won’t identify it. The sad thing is that our problems don’t go away if we don’t name them.

Second, think about the circumstances surrounding the tempting situation. Are there common triggers that you can avoid? Do you overwork when you are receiving a lot of criticism? Do you find refuge at the office when things are rough at home? Do you get angry when you are afraid? Do you seek unhealthy affection when you feel unattractive? Do you participate in unhealthy behavior when you are around particular people? If you have a common trigger, then think about ways to avoid the trigger. Sometimes it’s easier to avoid the entire wilderness than it is to avoid the temptation in the wilderness.

If you feel overwhelmed by criticism, do things to take care of yourself. I often take walks and pray. I even buy myself flowers, on occasion.

If there are problems at home, try to talk about them to your spouse. Or go to counseling, instead of sweeping it under the rug. When you find yourself angry, take a pulse on your emotions. Is there something that you are afraid of? Is there something that is making you depressed?

What about your friends? If there is someone you drink too much with, and you want to quit drinking, then don’t call that person to tell her how you want to stop. That’s just not going to work. You’ll have to find some other friends.

Speaking of friends, that leads me to the third point. Gather some support. Twelve-step groups have saved my family members. I have watched them save marriages, relationships, careers, and lives. I have heard a thousand arguments against them. I have heard the feminist critiques. I know that there have been some pretty severe problems with an AA group here in D.C. But I also know their power to change lives. They are free. They are always available. If you’re creeped out by one, then find another one. But if you need it, then go.

I have watched friends and loved ones come up with every excuse in the world not to go to a 12-step program, while their lives went into a complete shambles. When they finally ran out of excuses, then they were able to get the support they needed. And they rebuilt their lives.

If there is no group, and you’re serious about making a change, then find someone who can support you. A friend you can call, at any time day or night, when you feel like you’re in the wilderness. I know it’s hard to make friends here in D.C. Everyone is so transient and work-oriented. But you might need to reach out to someone, because you need someone whom you can call. No one needs to be in the wilderness, facing your temptation all by yourself. Find someone you can trust. Talk to them. You might be thinking that it could ruin your career if you talked to someone. But it just might ruin your career if you don’t talk to someone.

And look at me, I’m a pastor. Pastors are often the first people to get fired if they have a temptation that they can’t overcome. And I found someone. (The trick might be to find someone who has more to lose than you do!) Pray about it. You’ll find someone.

The beautiful thing about church, about coming together here, the amazing thing about Lent, is that we are called to examine our lives, we are called to look at our wilderness situations, we are called to think about the times when we are tempted. We are called to confess what we have done, not so that we can be judged and condemned. Not so that someone can tell you that you are going to hell. But so that you can find that place of mercy and grace, so that you can be so surrounded by the love of God that it will transform your life. We are held by the embrace of God, who loves us as a mother loves her child, and in this season, we have a chance to be forgiven by God and to change.

Thanks be to God, our Creator,

God, our Liberator,

            and God, our Sustainer. Amen.

Western Presbyterian Church

Washington, D.C.

14 February 2010

Text: Luke 9:28-36

I was at Austin Seminary, and we were having a series of lectures on evolution. It was extremely important for the future pastors at the school to be exposed to the intricacies of these matters. Our seminary was training Presbyterians and Methodists who would be pastors all over the world, but most of us would be concentrated in Texas, Louisiana, Oklahoma, and Arkansas—and these are places where there are often heated debates over evolution.

We don’t always get a sense of it here in the D.C. region, but there’s a strong religious movement to keep the scientific findings of evolution from the textbooks, and to present theories like “Intelligent Design” in the classroom.

Many Christians in Texas saw evolution as a threat to our faith. They took the words of Scripture literally, so they believed that God created the world roughly six thousand years ago, and the entire process happened in 144 hours. They fought long and hard against any scientific theory that might deviate from those presuppositions, because they believed that to question would begin to crack the very foundations of Christianity.

This issue is so important to many Christians that they have set up Think Tanks dedicated to the work of Creationism. They set up powerful lobbies, to make sure that politicians hear their views. They carefully study textbooks, and protest when evolution is taught in schools. Many times parents will even home-school their children, so that there won’t be a chance that their kids would be exposed to evolution.

I have watched Christians ridicule scientific findings for years. We know how the scientific method ought to work. You have a hypothesis, and then you gather data and test that hypothesis. If the data collected supports the hypothesis, then you have a conclusion.

But, sometimes Conservative Evangelical Christians can get it all backwards. Sometimes Christians start with a conclusion (like the world was created 6,000 years ago in six days), and if data that goes against that conclusion, then they try to disprove the data.

This practice points to the awkward relationship that science and religion has had since the 16^th and 17^th century. Now we look at the text and we see stories like the Transfiguration, and we wonder, How could this be possible? How can these men suddenly be on the mountaintop, talking with each other? It’s not scientifically possible for these miracles to occur. So what’s the use of Scripture? What’s the use of religion? Why do we gather together and pray and worship God, when the very first chapter of this book cannot hold up to an eight-grade biology class?

All of this points to this awkward relationship between science and the Bible.

So, our seminary invited some of the professors and academics from University of Texas to talk to us about evolution. They knew that as religious leaders, we would be in the front lines of this debate. We would have parishioners who would come to us with concerns about their child’s eighth grade biology class, and they wanted to make sure that we were ready to answer those questions.

Most of the visiting professors were wonderful. They helped us to understand the scientific findings, and they gave us the tools that we would need as we talked to the ordinary people who might be struggling with what they should believe. 

But there was one man, who presented the Big Bang Theory, who was not so courteous. Just before his lecture was complete, he launched into an extended tirade against Christians. Basically, calling us all idiots.

Perhaps if I were a scientist in Texas, I would have the same reaction to Christians. I can certainly understand when certain groups, have been targeted by certain Christians, why they would make generalizations about all Christians. But, it was still rather unfair, when we were on his side, for him to be making these assumptions about us. And, in my humble opinion, if he was that vehemently opposed to us, then he ought to have turned down the invitation. And the honorarium. Instead of using our hospitality as an opportunity to tell us what morons we were.

But I digress… the point is that when we look at miracles in the Bible, often our modern minds don’t quite know what to do with them. And much of this uncomfortable relationship between science and the Bible is rooted in our ideas of how the world began.

It hasn’t always been this way. The author Karen Armstrong writes and about this in her book The Case for God. She said in an interview that the ancient mind had two different ways of acquiring knowledge. In Ancient Greek, the original language of the New Testament, there are two words: one is logos and the other is mythos.

When we look at the etymology, or the original root of words like Biology, Sociology, Anthropology, we can get a sense of what the term logos means. It means words, but there is something a bit more exact about the term as it was used in ancient culture. Logos pointed to science, reason. Logos helped us to function practically in the world, and logos helped us to accurately reflect the realities of the world around us.

And there was another term: mythos. Mythos was different than logos because the point of mythos was not to give us the words to accurately reflect with reason and science, but it was to give comfort in the midst of sorrow. It was to be there, to help us to get over our egos. It was to inspire us into a life of compassion. It drew us into a silent awe. Mythos was a discourse, it was stories and poetry that helped to comfort us when we were suffering and in pain.

If we have a child who dies, we absolutely want to know the scientific reason why that child has died. But after we know that, we want something else. We need something that will help us to come to terms with the tragedy. We want the poetry of Romans eight, that will comfort us with knowledge that there is nothing that will separate us from the love of God—not even sickness or death. We want the comfort of Psalm twenty-three, which speaks to our soul and tells us that even though we walk through the shadow of death, God will comfort us. God will eventually lead us to the green grass and the waters.

Mythos tries to explain and comfort in the midst of human suffering. When there were no easy answers, mythos tried to give meaning to our lives, with full realization that there are things that we don’t understand. As the Scriptures say, we see through a dark glass.    

I the ancient mind there was the idea of two things. There was no competition between the two ideas. In fact, the early theologian, Augustine, made it clear that if there was a contradiction between science and the Scripture, then the Scripture needed to be re-interpreted.

There was just the sense that both were necessary.

In the 16-17^th century, there was a radical shifting of religions and science. The Protestant Reformation was taking place, so there was this destabilization of religion.

Meanwhile, modern science began to take hold, and there were great strides that were being made–cures for sickness and disease. Science began to explain so many things. And mythos began to look flimsy, it was discredited. Logos became the only reliable, credible means of truth.

We can see how the tension became evident between the time of Copernicus and Galileo. When Copernicus presented his ideas to the Vatican, the Vatican was in nominal support of his finding. But when Galileo presented some of the same ideas, it was in a new time, and the Pope made the terrible mistake of putting Galileo under house arrest.

There was still an idea of logos and mythos. Among the Protestant Reformers, John Calvin said that the Bible did not speak to science. He called people who try to impede science “frantic persons.” If you want to learn about cosmology, don’t go to the Bible, go elsewhere.

Then something interesting happened. Sir Isaac Newton, and Rene Descates said that they could prove, scientifically, that God exists. Newton and Descartes began to point to science and they said that there had to be a divine intelligence to create all of this. There had to be an original source that was skilled in geometry and mathematics. If we look at nature, then there is undeniable proof that there is a Creator.

The church was thrilled by this notion that there would be scientific proof for our religious beliefs. Mythos was no longer discredited, because logos had proved it! And we began to make Newton’s God central.

With the discoveries of the Big-Bang theory and the findings of evolution, this proof that was so central to the church, came into question.

Something happened within conservative Christianity in the midst of all this. With the advent of modern science, many Christians no longer read the stories of Scripture with the same lenses. They began to see the Bible as a literal, factual book.

Again, the story of creation plays a central role in this. In the Bible, there are four accounts of Creation—there are two in Genesis, one in Proverbs, and the other in John. In one of the earliest church councils, it was declared that the creation accounts were metaphorical and should be read as such. Early mystics often came us with different creations myths.

Now, in conservative Evangelical Christianity, there is the sense that the Bible is a book of stories, wisdom and poetry that speaks to our deepest sufferings and stirs us to compassion, but it is more than that, it is also factually correct. Many conservatives believe that if we begin to say that the Bible might have some scientific or factual errors in it, then we nullify our entire faith. And we are doing nothing short of calling God a liar.

There are some people, like Richard Dawkins, who say that with the advent of modern science, mythos is irrelevant, and a movement of new atheists have gained great ground. But even though modern thinkers have declared that God is dead many times, the vast majority of people around the world are still religious. There is still a longing for mythos. There is something about these stories that comforts us in the midst of our pain, there is something about gathering here that stirs our compassion. There is something here that changes lives.

We cannot make scientific sense of why two dead people were talking to a Jesus, a man we declare is divine. We cannot, scientifically, prove that regular clothes and faces are turned into glowing brilliance. We cannot make those things happen in a laboratory. But we have this story of God incarnate, who is learning from prophets of old how to die.

The goal of religion is not to accurately reflect the realities of the world around us in the same way that science does—it is not to gather all of the words and details that will fully encompass the world. The goal of religion is to bring us to a sense of silence and awe. It is a humble understanding that there are things that our human minds cannot explain.

But, on the other hand, we will try to explain those things that we can, with the all of the robust scientific energy and intelligence that we can muster, we will study, test, try and prove.

There is the understanding that God is so infinite and so vast, that we may not be able to scientifically prove the existence of God, but that does not mean that we do not have wonder. And, when we look at this wonderful account of the Transfiguration, we know that lives can be transformed with the humble acknowledgement of God.

For the glory of God, our Creator,

            God, our Liberator,

                        and God, our Sustainer. Amen.

Pastor, Western Presbyterian Church
Washington, D.C.
February 7, 2010

Text: I Corinthians 15:1-11

In what I consider the best book on the development of Christology in the church, Roger Haight states “The question of salvation is the religious question” (My underline). Haight is absolutely correct. Put beside the question of the meaning of salvation, every other theological question pales in significance. Doctrines about the church, Trinity, the last days, they are all secondary to our doctrine of salvation. Only the doctrine of God itself rivals our beliefs about salvation.

I am going to devote two Sundays to this critical question—today and a Sunday in March. Today I will talk briefly about the history of the doctrine and why I think it is not terribly helpful to Christians today. In March, I will talk about where we are today on the doctrine of salvation and how it addresses the most fundamental need we have—to know that we are loved by our Divine Parent. Obviously, the two are so inter-related, so there will be a bit of overlap.

In the 15^th chapter of Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians, Paul states his doctrine of salvation in very simple, concise words: “Christ died for our sins in accordance with the Scriptures.” For Paul and the early church, salvation wasn’t about the meaning and purpose of our lives. It was about sin.

This shouldn’t be surprising since Paul was a person who, by his own account, was wracked with guilt over things he had done. He had done some pretty awful things, including persecuting members of the early church prior to his conversion. Paul was also obsessed with his failure to live faithfully according to the Jewish Law.

We all know Paul’s personality type. We may see it in a colleague at work who is never satisfied with her work product. She always sees the flaws in her work; rarely does she see the positive things she produces. We may see it at home with a family member who can’t satisfy him or herself. Maybe one of our kids can’t be satisfied with a B in some subject that is very difficult or one of our siblings is forever critical of little things he or she does less than perfectly. Or maybe we see this type of hypercritical tendency at work in ourselves. We can please others but not ourselves.

At some point, Paul came to the correct conclusion that he couldn’t forgive himself for his mistakes real and imagined. Judging himself by an external law, he needed an external source to experience forgiveness. Not able to find relief in the world, he rightly looked to God. Once oriented toward and accepting of God’s grace, Paul’s life took a change for the better that also changed the world as he became the lead disciple of a graceful God.

This is the context for what Paul meant when he said that Jesus died for our sins. God, as revealed in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus, can do that which we cannot do—liberate us from guilt by forgiving our sins. The grace of God can wipe out, erase, bury forever our sins and with them the guilt that is so debilitating and destructive of our lives.

How is this message of forgiveness connected to Jesus’ death? If God can forgive humanity after we killed the Christ, surely God can forgive you and me. So often, we think we are unforgivable. We basically say to God, “You don’t understand just how bad I have been.” Well, yes, God does understand. And when we confess our failures, no matter how bad they are, God does forgive us. This was Jesus’ core message.

I should add that for Paul, our sins stood between us and life eternal. If we remain unforgiven while on earth, Paul believed the possibility of heaven doesn’t exist. So for us to join God for eternity, in his mind, the issue of sinfulness had to be addressed. Paul felt Jesus did so directly and unequivocally.

Paul’s teaching remained the primary understanding of God’s redemptive work through the first eleven centuries of the church. Augustine in the fourth century began to develop some systematic thoughts. But the church’s teaching on salvation didn’t engender a large debate until the 11^th century when two of the church’s greatest thinkers went toe to toe: Anselm, an Italian Benedictine monk, and Abelard, a French monk about fifty years younger than Anselm.

Picking up on Paul’s claim that Jesus died for our sins, Anselm shifted theology in a direction it followed almost unchallenged until the 19^th century. He decided that Jesus had to die for our sins because humanity, on its own, could not atone for them. Beginning with Adam and Eve and continuing onward, our sins were too many and too awful for any sufficient act of contrition on our part.

Anselm asserted that our redemption could be achieved only through an internal transaction within the Godhead. God demanded satisfaction for the sins of humanity just as a judge demands satisfaction from a criminal for a crime. And yet, no human could make that satisfaction because the crimes were too numerous for any one person to make restitution. Therefore and logically, only God could satisfy God’s need for the debt to be settled. As a result, God became human to do what humanity could not—satisfy the debt. Jesus died for our sins.

Anselm’s theology of atonement has a certain logic but seems bizarre to many of us in the 21^st century. It is certainly bizarre to me. But it wasn’t bizarre in the Middle Ages. It appealed to the “eye for an eye” reality in which they lived. Scores had to be settled with the appropriate punishment. Only God could settle this particular score. God did so by offering up Jesus as the price to be paid for humanity’s thousands of years of sin.

Anselm and generations after him saw this as God’s supreme act of sacrifice. God loved us so much that God gave up God’s only begotten to create the grounds for New Life for humanity. What amazing grace it was, they believed.

Abelard didn’t buy it. He did not believe God’s thinking toward a sinful humanity had to be changed by some act of atonement, a supernatural settling of the score. It felt like an all-too-human a way of dealing with sin.

In opposition to the idea of a divine self-sacrifice, Abelard wrote that what needed to take place was not a judicial transaction in which our sins were negated. No, what needed to change was sinful humanity’s attitude toward God. It was this change that Jesus accomplished. By remaining faithful even unto death, Jesus showed us the proper attitude for humans to have toward God. Forgiven we become grateful for the renewed possibility of a faithful life. From this flows an grateful effort to live as Jesus lived—faithfully, creatively, lovingly.

We confess our sins. They are forgiven. We are restored to the path of faithful discipleship. This sacred progression is the essence of Abelard’s teaching.

Anselm’s notion of redemption is called objective because it happens independent of us. God does it, not us. We receive the benefits unaided by anything we have done. We are the objects of salvation, not participants in it.

Abelard’s concept is called subjective. God can only do what God can do: forgive us. Salvation takes place as we respond faithfully to a loving and graceful God. We make it happen when we repent and rejoin God’s family.

These two theories, objective and subjective, are at the heart of many of the differences between conservative and progressive Christian theologies.

Much of the language of our tradition, especially as found in our hymns, proclaims Anselm’s theology of salvation. We hear about Jesus’ blood, his suffering on the cross and death as being the essence of God’s redemptive act. In a way they are.

However, such an approach also makes no sense to many of us. Why would God kill an innocent, family member to satisfy a debt? There had to be another way. There was and Abelard described it.

As I and many others understand God’s redemptive work, Jesus’ death did not satisfy an angry God. His death satisfied an angry Roman empire and angry religious leaders. Jesus’ death was the result of our sinfulness, not part of a cosmic drama to satisfy God.

We are saved by Jesus because he introduces us to a realm of grace the likes of which we can find nowhere else. He ushers us into a world where prodigal children and adulteress people are forgiven, tax collectors and persecutors of the church become leaders of the church, lepers are embraced and those given up for dead find new life. In this mystical realm, we see ourselves as good rather than sinful; forgiven rather than burdened; children of God rather than children of a struggling world.

God does save us from our sins. As we are forgiven, we are freed, yes, saved to live a healthy and holy life. It is this forgiveness and the new life it engenders, this salvation that we celebrate around the Lord’s Table.

Gracious God, your love for us is, indeed, amazing. Even though we sin and sin again, you forgive and forgive again, refusing to give up on us. In this sacred process, you save us from ourselves. Thank you. Help us to live lives worthy of such love, following the example of Jesus who shows us the Way to you. Amen.