Sermons

Mar 1 - The Rev. Brian C. Taylor - Ash Wednesday

Listen to audio version of this sermon.

Whatever became of sin? Oh, we know that other people sin, of course – those who do really bad things. They steal, cheat, lie, abuse, and kill. But I would assume that most of us in this room haven’t recently hit anyone or forged documents or broken into somebody’s house.

We’ve made mistakes, of course; maybe we’ve said the wrong thing and hurt someone’s feelings. We’ve failed to always love people as fully as they needed. We’ve thought about our own desires more than we’ve thought of other people’s needs. But surely these less serious failings aren’t sin? Sin has such an awful sound to it. It reminds us of the finger-pointing, guilt-tripping hypocrites who nearly drove us away from religion long ago.

We heard this kind of language at the very beginning of this liturgy: We worthily lament our sins and acknowledge our wretchedness. I usually don’t think of myself wretched. I don’t walk around lamenting my sinfulness.

We live in a very psychological age. We understand far more than we used to about why we behave the way we do. We know that childhood trauma can result in an inability to communicate well, to become addicted, to fail. We know that if we were raised badly or abused we will probably find ourselves hurting others unintentionally. There are always reasons why we hurt ourselves and others.

My understanding of original sin is that we are all born into a web of hurt and dysfunction. In fact, we are all affected and harmed by this human web long before we have any ability to resist or understand it. A baby in the womb who is subjected to angry loud voices in the home or alcohol in the mother’s body will be affected.

And so we develop survival mechanisms in response to this web of dysfunction and harm we are born into. We learn that we have to protect ourselves by pleasing everyone, by fighting, by not revealing anything, by pushing people away. There are good reasons why we have faults and bad habits.

The web of original sin is not limited to its effects on us personally. We are born into a society that abuses and harms. We are caught in a web of social and historical reasons for everything that is wrong with the world. Poverty results in poor education, broken homes, and crime. One ethnic or national group oppresses another, resentment builds, and violence explodes. Those who wage war or exploit others or who ignore the needs of the poor can always come up with a very good reason why things became the way they are.

So what happened to sin? Nothing’s really our fault, is it?

I’d like to suggest that while there are always reasons for our problems and faults, at some point we stop having excuses for them. At some point, the adult who lost a parent or was habitually neglected and condemned as a youngster must take responsibility for the anger or fear or emotional paralysis that they’ve chosen to perpetuate every day of their life. At some point, the nation or group that was harmed by others must take responsibility for the harm they inflict on others in the name of security and self-defense.

The point at which a very understandable survival mechanism turns into sin is the point where we choose it when it is no longer needed. Even if it doesn’t work, we choose it out of habit, because the alternative seems too difficult. We choose to overeat or overdrink even though it really doesn’t give us comfort anymore; we choose to vent our anger and frustration at others even though we don’t have to protect ourselves by it anymore; we choose to hide and pretend even though it long ago stopped being necessary to do so. As a society, we choose to continue to exploit or ignore or inflict violence on others even though we know it won’t work in the long run.

At some point there are only old reasons and habits, and no excuses. At some point we must confess the harm we choose to perpetuate on ourselves and to others as sin.

What then? Well, after confession comes repentance, doesn’t it? If we have named what we do as sin, then we are asked to turn and change. It doesn’t do any good to feel badly about ourselves, ask for forgiveness, and then go on doing the same old thing. When we admit our sin, that admission comes with a responsibility to repent, to turn and change.

Change is hard, to be sure. But I’m always amazed at the resources that are available to us for change, especially in our privileged society. There are recovery groups of every kind for those who feel stuck in addictive behavior. There are therapists, clergy and social workers; health clinics, ways to exercise, diets and stress management techniques. What we often lack is the willingness to take advantage of these things; we lack the real desire to change, to repent.

There are also plenty of social resources to change the world around us, too. As Fr. Bill Easter has said, as he looks ahead to the day he will stand before God’s judgment at the pearly gates, he isn’t afraid that God will point out all his little faults and moral failings. He’s afraid that God will say “Ah, you’re one of those 21st-century Americans. The richest and most powerful and supposedly smartest country in the history of the world, and you can’t figure out how to feed the hungry and get medicines and clean water to people.” We’ve got enough resources and good ideas; what we lack is the willingness to change, to repent.

But there’s something else we lack besides willingness. We lack the very ability to change. As St. Paul said, I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate (Romans 7:15).

This is where grace comes in. This is where Christianity has a real advantage over other programs of self-improvement and social change. We understand that we cannot fix ourselves or the world around us without God’s help. On our own, we will fail time and time again. When we take responsibility for our personal sin and our social failings, when we confess them as sin, when we then assume a willingness to act and to change, we are not left to our own will power alone. We have an inner resource, a Spirit in our communities, that comes to our aid.

And so as people of faith, our willingness to repent includes a daily opening of the heart to someone much wiser and more powerful than ourselves. Our desire to improve the world around us includes a trust in the wisdom of the group, a willingness to be patient, to listen prayerfully to social groups and individuals who are very different from us, a capacity for humility and working together so that the Spirit can guide us together.

It is amazing to me how many Christians really don’t know how to access the resource of grace. We go on sinning, feeling bad, asking for forgiveness, making resolutions to change, and failing muster up the strength to change. Then the whole cycle starts all over again.

Each of us must learn how to access the unquenchable well of grace in our own way, but prayer is always at the heart of it. Prayer leads us into relationship with the source of new life. Prayer opens us to one another, to people who can help, to new ideas and ways forward. Prayer is where we surrender our power to perfect ourselves and the world, and rely upon our common Creator to lead us from death into life.

So we begin our season of Lent by taking responsibility for our sin. We begin with an intention to repent, to change the way we live. But don’t make the common mistake of thinking you can do this on your own. Use this holy season as a time for prayer, that you may be lead into a deeper relationship with the only One who is able to make all things new.