Martyrs
a sermon by John W. Wimberly, Jr.
Pastor, Western Presbyterian Church
Washington, D.C.
August 10, 2008

Text: II Corinthians 11:21b-31

There are approximately one billion Muslims in the world.  Within the enormous and multi-cultural religious movement called Islam, a few extreme, fundamentalist Muslim sects have generated a 21st century revival of the theology of martyrdom.  The reaction to this revival has puzzled me a bit. 

It doesn’t puzzle me that people respond negatively to the idea of a believer willingly offering up his or her life as a human sacrifice to God.  As the story of Abraham and Isaac reveals, God doesn’t want human sacrifices.  God wants human life to be valued and preserved. 

Obviously, it also doesn’t bother me that people object to suicide bombing.  No matter how it is spun theologically or ideologically, suicide bombing is cold-blooded murder.

It also doesn’t surprise me that very small numbers of extremists can smear the reputation of a wonderful faith community such as Islam.  Extremists within Christianity, Judaism, Hinduism and other religions also defame their faith communities.

What puzzles me is the failure by Christians to note the glorified state martyrs hold in our own tradition.  When I served a church in Bethesda, some members crocheted covers for seats in the chancel area of the sanctuary.  In each cover was placed a symbol historically associated with one of Jesus’ Twelve Disciples.  During that process, I learned that the symbols or shields, as they are called, mostly relate to the method by which each disciple was killed as a martyr.  The shields don’t recognize the way the disciple lived.  They memorialize the brutal way each disciple died.  They lift up martyrdom.

For example, the symbol for Bartholomew is three knives because, according to tradition, Bartholomew was flayed alive, crucified and then beheaded.  According to tradition, James the Lesser was pushed from a pinnacle of the temple at the age of 96.  Near death, he rose to ask forgiveness for his enemies, who then beat him with a fuller’s bat and sawed his body in pieces.  James’ symbol is a saw.  Matthew is said to have been stoned to death and beheaded.  His symbol is a knife.  Of the Twelve, only John is believed to have died a natural death. 

With these stories and symbols, we have enshrined in the Christian tradition the nobility, even virtue of dying a martyr’s death.  Passing the stories from one generation to the next, we teach these stories to our children.  Well, here at Western we don’t.  But there are lots of churches where they do.

While Christianity has elevated martyrs to a place of sainthood, some religions have a more nuanced approach to the relationship of faith and life.  One of my favorite parts of Judaism’s Yom Kippur liturgy is a prayer asking for God’s understanding and forgiveness for those Jews who have been forced to deny their faith rather than be killed for it.  This is rooted in the experience of Jews during the Inquisition who converted, at least verbally, to Christianity rather than see their entire families slaughtered.  In my opinion this approach rightly expresses what God values highest: preserving human life.  Living to be faithful another day is more important to God than is maintaining a religious identity at any cost.

At times, we find a martyrdom theology at work in Paul’s writings.  This morning we heard him speak at some length about how his sufferings proved his faithfulness.  In comparing himself to other evangelists, he wrote, “I am a better one: with far greater labors, far more imprisonments, with countless floggings, and often near death.  Five times I have received...the forty lashes minus one.  Three times I was beaten with rods. Once I received a stoning. Three times I was shipwrecked....” And that is just the opening salvo in his description of his problems.

Now granted, many early Christians, such as Paul, were martyrs.  They suffered and died because of their faith.  However, it is a mistake of the highest magnitude to transform their sufferings into a model for ministry.  It is a classic case of mistaking the exception for the rule.  What they had to undergo is not necessarily the same thing we must do to be faithful in our time and place.

All of this would be irrelevant were it not for the continuing existence of Christians who think faithfulness and suffering are one in the same thing.  It is as if these folks want to suffer to prove to themselves and/or the world that they are faithful.  Instead of having suffering imposed upon them by an antagonistic state or culture, they look for and willingly take on suffering. 

In more than three decades of social justice work, I have worked with more than a few folks who seem to be happier when they are losing and suffering than when they are prevailing in the creation of justice.  Make no mistake about it, they do great work.  But they feel a need to suffer.  If they aren’t suffering, these particular folks will find a way to suffer.  They then wear their self-imposed suffering like a badge of honor. 

These folks want to get arrested at a demonstration to prove they are willing to go to the mat for their faith.  In contrast, Rosa Parks got arrested to prove a point about racist segregation.

Some of us here at Western were prepared to go to jail when the city threatened to close down Miriam’s Kitchen because of neighborhood opposition to our relocation down here on Virginia Avenue.  But none us wanted to go to jail.  We simply weren’t willing to cooperate with an unjust government decree.  Thankfully, we didn’t have to go to jail.

Francis of Assisi decided to give up his riches and live a spartan existence.  It was a choice he made which gave him greater freedom than his previous life. He didn’t consider it suffering and he didn’t consider himself better than others because of his self-imposed poverty.

Paul suffered.  But in his writings, he clearly indicates that he would have preferred not to suffer.

Anti-slavery activist Sojourner Truth suffered.  But like most social justice advocates, she was fighting for a world where people don’t have to suffer.

Jesus suffered an awful death.  But most of his life was filled with joy, satisfaction, fulfillment and flat out fun.

So suffering is not the default Christian position in life.  In fact, suffering is the negation of what Christians think God intends for us.  God wants us to prosper, not suffer.

The occasional glorification of suffering and martyrdom in the Christian and other religious traditions has a perverse side effect.  We begin to view pleasure and comfort as a sinful state of being.  Indeed, if we are succeeding in life, we think we have been compromised by a seductive culture.

One of my lifelong debates with liberal friends in the church has to do with church growth.  As you know, I think churches should grow.  Unless there are some very specific reasons, our attendance, membership, pledged giving, and mission programs should all grow.  If they are not, I think a congregation needs to rethink its overall strategic plan (of course that assumes a congregation has a strategic plan which, incredibly, most don’t have.). 

Some of my liberal friends argue the reverse.  If we are growing, we must be selling out.  We must be watering down our message so it is palatable to the masses.  We are taking the cutting edges off the Gospel.  We are pedaling cheap grace.  These folks see the forty year decline of our denomination’s membership as a sign that we are actually being more faithful than we were when we were growing during the 1950s.  Amazing. 

Given that Jesus’ ministry attracted ever larger crowds, that the church grew at the speed of light in the first four centuries, that our own Reformed tradition grew into a major theological movement in a matter of several decades, how does one argue that success is failure?  Was Jesus watering-down the Gospel?  How does one argue that a positive response from people is actually negative?  It is really quite astounding.

The same reversal of values happens to individuals on a personal level.  I can’t count the number of people who have come into my office and said, “I am just too comfortable.  I have no real problems.  What is wrong with me?” I am tempted to say, “The person who just left the office with cancer would really like to trade places with you.” But I don’t.  Usually.

Of course, there is such a state of being as “too comfortable” just as one can be truly overwhelmed by suffering.  But we rarely find the true path in life by focusing on the extreme options. 

If we go back and look at the biblical vision of what God has in mind for us, it is a vision of comfort, extreme comfort.  We aren’t fighting one another.  We aren’t scrounging around for food, shelter or healthcare.  On the contrary, the biblical vision has us residing in a land of plenty, living harmoniously with God, one another and nature.  The fields are fertile; our families are healthy and happy.  It is called Eden.

So the issue isn’t being too comfortable.  The issue is what we do with our comfort.  Do we roll around in our comfort like pigs in a trough?  Or do we use our comfortable position to help others become comfortable?

One model for life is Francis of Assisi.  His choice helps us put all of our material possessions in perspective.  He enables us to see, literally, that we can live without all of our “stuff.” Indeed, we can live very happily.

Another model for life are the folks who decide they are going to use their enormous wealth to help others.  I read of one fellow who said that by the time he died he was going to spend every dime he had on others (They didn’t interview his adult children!).  There are many instances of people with money creating large philanthropic foundations that do remarkable amounts of good.  These individuals use their comfort to make life more comfortable for others.

Most of us are yet another model.  We lead comfortable lives.  Yet, we don’t have a ton of money.  So we use our gifts at work, in the community, at church to help create a better world for others.  We stand up for right but the world doesn’t crucify us. 

Suffering in the name of justice and peace is sometimes necessary.  There are times when we stand with people who are oppressed and suffer, even die as a result.  Every great movement for justice and peace has, as one of its components, people who have suffered greatly for the cause. 

But the suffering model is the model least preferred in God’s eyes.  It is the last, not first, option.  It is a model for which we are working to eliminate the need.

Lest I be misunderstood, let me clarify that suffering and sacrifice are not necessarily synonymous.  Each of us is called to lead a sacrificial rather than self-indulgent lifestyle.  Giving generously to the church and other important organizations, not indulging ourselves at the expense of the environment, thinking of other people’s needs not just our own needs, these kinds of sacrifices are at the heart of Christian discipleship. 

Looking back on it now, it is simply mind-boggling to remember President Bush telling us, after 9/11, to go out and spend money to help America rebound from that awful tragedy. Unfortunately, we followed his advice, didn’t we?  If we had been asked to make sacrifices seven years ago, maybe we could have avoided the suffering so many are experiencing today as a result of our personal and national spending sprees.

In God’s default setting for humanity, we are not called to suffer for God.  We are called to serve God.  If suffering cannot be avoided as we serve God, so be it.  But we do not seek it.

Yes, people who suffered terribly because of their faith surely end up in heaven.  But so do millions upon millions of people who live quietly faithful lives, doing the right thing day in and day out—in their homes, neighborhoods, and beyond.  Such everyday faithfulness may not be as dramatic as martyrdom.  But in the end, it is the stuff of which a new creation is built.

Let us pray: Loving God, like little children, we want to prove ourselves—to You, ourselves and others.  You, on the other hand, don’t want proof.  You simply ask us to live out our faith humbly and courageously.  Help us to stand against injustice in all its forms and build peace in its many incarnations.  As we do so, be with us, guiding us, filling us with Spirit and truth.  All this we pray in the name of the One who shows us the Way, Jesus the Christ.  Amen.