Sermons

Sep 16 - The Rev. Brian C. Taylor

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The 16th Sunday after Pentecost
Jeremiah 4:11-12, 22-28, Ps. 51, 1 Timothy 1:12-17, Luke 15:1-10

Many of you know the biblical scholar Marcus Borg. He is one of the most popular writers today on the subjects of Jesus and faith, at least among congregations like ours. In one of his books, he comments that other than Christian fundamentalists, most contemporary people are just not preoccupied with sin anymore. Even the megachurches, who are what I call “Evangelical Lite,” talk more about self-realization than sin.

And so when we hear scriptures like those appointed for today, we cringe. An old world rises up to meet us, and we don’t quite know what to do with it. Desolation, wickedness, judgment, blasphemy, repentance, and the fierce anger of the Lord. Doesn’t this express a view of human nature that we’ve outgrown? Isn’t it an awfully primitive way of seeing our relationship with the divine?

We just don’t relate to the view that as humans we are somehow stained with an ugly, unclean nature, that we are without a shred of goodness on our own, that even an innocent baby is a wicked sinner until they are baptized. Those who talk this way seem to be from an oppressive time in history that is thankfully long gone.

But if we go beneath the surface of our readings today, if we can get past the words that make us cringe, we see that they speak about human sin and God’s goodness not only in ways that we can relate to, but in ways that give us great hope.

Jeremiah is like other Hebrew prophets - he is more concerned about the social sins of a nation than he is about personal moral failings. He draws a striking, imaginative picture of the whole creation lying in desolation because of the sin of Jerusalem. Because God’s people are foolish, because they don’t know God, because they are stupid and skilled in doing evil, a hot wind comes out of the desert mountains. The earth is waste and void, the mountains quake and even the birds have vanished. Cities are laid in ruins and the skies are black. It is an apocalyptic scene.

For you and for me, this living Word of God spoken to us today is not just about ancient Jerusalem. It certainly isn’t about some imagined stain of guilt on our individual souls. It is about human stupidity and skillfulness in doing evil. It is about social sins. Jeremiah spoke once to Israel, but today he speaks to us about wars in Iraq and Darfur; about economic exploitation of innocent desperate people who are just trying to survive; about millions of precious children of God living in squalor, orphans dying of AIDS, people going hungry because we’re too confused, corrupt, apathetic, or lazy to figure out how to transfer some of our abundant resources and obscene wealth in the right directions.

There is for us, as there was for Jeremiah, an apocalyptic quality to this stupidity. Picture the polluted skies over China’s coal factories, the stripped mountaintops of Appalachia, and the rising oceans and weather changes that always threaten the world’s most vulnerable people and animal species. Then picture Iraq. The mountains quake and a hot desert wind blows on the people, giant bombs reduce the cities to ruins, tear apart human bodies, and blacken the skies. The whole land is a desolation.

Jeremiah says I looked, and lo, the fruitful land was a desert, and all the birds of the air had fled. My people are foolish; they are stupid children, they have no understanding. They are skilled in doing evil, but do not know how to do good.

Then Paul speaks about personal sin that we can also relate to. Almost with cheerful abandon, he describes his former life: Oh yes, I was a blasphemer, a persecutor, a man of violence! He was not speaking about the kind of sin that has to do with being stained with a vague human badness, but actions he had done, actions he regretted. Prior to his conversion, he had been a self-righteous hunter of Christians, even putting them to death.

This brings to mind for us the personal sins of very bad choices that we regret – perhaps dishonesty, cowardice, addiction, adultery, rage, or indifference. Rather than seeing ourselves as “sinners,” Paul, by example, asks us to remember that we sometimes do sinful things that we later regret.

And so as a nation, as the human race, as individuals, we understand what the scriptures say about sin. We’ve hardly outgrown it; we live with it every day.

What do our scriptures today then advise us to do about it? Surprisingly, they don’t ask us to wallow around in guilt; they don’t advise us to believe certain things about Jesus; they don’t assign an arduous program of penance. They simply offer the unstoppable love of God, and invite us to turn towards it and live. There is no divine punishment needed; we provide punishment enough for one another and for ourselves. There is only love and an invitation to turn towards life.

Jeremiah knows that God never forsakes Israel, but constantly points them towards justice and mercy. The psalm sings of loving-kindness, compassion, and cleansing. Paul speaks of the grace of the Lord that saved him from himself.

And Jesus tells stories about God’s gentle persistence. It is, he says, like you when you have one lost sheep out of a hundred, one lost coin out of ten, and you search diligently until you find them. God seeks us out constantly, trying to get through to a people who are lost and stupid. God mourns over our stubbornness and confusion, and works unceasingly to reach us, to invite us towards goodness, justice and peace. And then when we turn in this direction, there is no scolding, no “You made your bed; now you’re just going to have to lie in it!” There is rejoicing among the angels.

This is not just an esoteric, spiritual truth. It is real, in this world. When we turn towards goodness, life happens. When South Africa turned from the sin of apartheid toward truth and reconciliation, the spirit of justice was immediately released. If we change our energy habits, the earth will immediately begin to renew itself. If we devote all our efforts to eliminate extreme poverty, people will start to live, right away. And I believe that if today we admit our mistakes and our failure in the Middle East, if we turn towards the regional and international community and humbly ask for help to get us out of the mess we have made, if we approach Muslims with respect and a real desire to address their concerns, I believe that things will begin to heal.

And in our individual lives, the Spirit is just as ready, just as willing to bring life out of death, if we will but turn. When we hit our bottom and know how stupid and foolish we’ve been, when we see how lost we are, God immediately begins to find us. When we drop our pride and our shame, when we admit the harmful things we do, when we turn and ask for help, we don’t face an angry and disappointed God. There is no such God. There is only divine mercy and a supernatural hand that gently pushes us towards new life.

The Spirit of God is standing by with mercy, always ready to respond to any genuine turn towards goodness. The Spirit is a current of living water that leads to resurrection. All we have to do is step into it. It may take a long time for God and for us to undo the harm that we have done. But the minute we turn towards God, a divine energy moves into us and starts to make us new. We have to stay with it, of course, making that choice for life every day. Gradually resurrection happens.

If we can adopt this view, a life-changing thing happens. We then dwell not on the intractable evils of the world or our own frustratingly persistent faults. We look instead to the unstoppable love of God, always waiting in the wings, waiting for us to call upon its resurrecting power. And we look to the angels, ready to rejoice over our return.