TRINITY SERMONS
Trinity Presbyterian Church
2200 North Bell Avenue # Denton, Texas 76209
Rev. Craig Hunter
March 29, 2009
Crossing the Line
Scriptures: Jeremiah 31:31-34; John 12:20-33
For years he was considered by many as Christianity's number one preacher. His weekly services, with the catchy phrase "The Hour of Power", were broadcast all over the world to an estimated 20 million listeners. This was Robert Schuller, the founder of the Crystal Cathedral in California. He wanted to create a church in which non-Christians felt welcome, so he went around asking people what kind of church they would like to attend. In order to make people feel comfortable, he preached only positive messages, eliminating anything about human sinfulness. As part of his message and his mission, he once offered a new meaning for the season of Lent, the season in which we now find ourselves. Instead of Lent being a time for reflection and meditation, and preparation, Schuller suggested that Lent could mean, "Let's Eliminate Negative Thinking." Sin, suffering, sacrifice -- let's eliminate all those negative "s" words, let's focus on the positive. He wrote such books as "The Power of Positive Thinking," "Move Ahead with Possibility Thinking," "Achieve Your True Potential Through Power Thinking or Power Thoughts," etc. Christianity Today once reported, "Schuller is now reaching more non-Christians than any other religious leader in America. . . Schuller's influence has had a tremendous impact on our culture." (see www.ukapologetics.net/schuller.htm)
With his advancing age and the changing times, Robert Schuller has since been eclipsed by others. But much of his basic message, which traces itself back to Norman Vincent Peale, continues today in other forms. Joel Osteen, pastor of the Lakewood Church in Houston, a bit closer to home, continues in the same general line. His non-denominational church is the largest church in the United States, averaging 43,000 people in attendance each week. (see www.en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lakewood_Church) The titles of his books suggest his continuity with Robert Schuller; for example, "Become a Better You," "Your Best Life Now," "Living Stress Free," "Reaching Your Highest Potential," etc. (as referenced on www.amazon.com)
Schuller and Osteen may be near one end of the spectrum in terms of this gospel of self-esteem and positive thinking that they preach, but their success is indicative of the resonance their message holds with society as a whole. Indeed, one could argue that they are merely giving voice to what is basically part of American civil religion. This is the religion that we get from our culture, the religion that tells us that the change we need is a change of personal perspective, the religion that recognizes no limits, a religion focused on individual attainment, a religion of the self.
We see it in pop culture in movies and songs. I am reminded of the humorous movie produced by Monty Python over twenty years ago, The Life of Brian. Set in first century Palestine, Brian is a hapless idiot whose life roughly parallels that of Christ, until at the end of the movie, finding himself crucified, he is urged to alter his grim, negative attitude, and instead, "Always look on the bright side of life." It is quite a funny scene, really, the heads of these guys on crosses bobbing back and forth as they sing together in harmony, Always look on the bright side of life. It is the gospel of positive thinking carried to its extreme and exposed as hollow. Another song that captures the same basic message is the Bobby McFerrin song, "Don't Worry, Be Happy." "Ain't got no place to lay your head, somebody came and took your bed, don't worry, be happy. The landlord says your rent is late, he may have to litigate, don't worry, be happy. Look at me I am happy. Don't worry, be happy. Here, I give you my phone number. When you worry, call me. I make you happy. Don't worry, be happy."
We see elements of this same attitude in the church in our own squeamishness to face the cross, in our own reluctance to hear the depressing stories of others, in our desire to turn off the news with all of its negative stories, because, well, you know, that kind of stuff just brings me down. And we don't want to be brought down. We too want to focus on the positive. Let's get this party started.
Into this context comes our Scripture passage this morning from John's gospel. It marks a turning point in John's narrative. Most of John's gospel up to this point has been focused on signs that Jesus gives as a witness to his mission as an agent of eternal life. But the twelfth chapter of John's gospel begins what has been called, "The Book of Glory." Continuing through the 20th chapter, this portion of John's gospel shifts the focus to the glorification of Christ through suffering and death.
This morning's passage begins with some Greeks coming to a festival to see Jesus. I picture some Sig Eps, some Chi Rhos, some Kappa Alphas wearing their letters, some Greek fraternities and sororities coming together on a Friday night. Excitement hangs heavy in the air. I mean the text says Greeks and festivals, after all, is it really so hard to imagine. This party has been advertized around campus, or around the Galilee as the case may be, word has gotten out, that Jesus dude, he's a miracle worker, you've got to check him out, he'll blow your mind. Pump us up, Jesus, change that water into wine, pump up the volume, that's what I'm talking about, let's get this party started, it's time to feel good again.
Then Jesus goes and talks about a grain of wheat falling and dying. Say what? He talks about suffering and death. Come again? Come on, Jesus, don't be such a party pooper. Let's change that channel. I mean, there is nothing quite like a little suffering and death to diffuse the mood, nothing else works so effectively to let the air out. This isn't what people come for, this isn't what packs the pews.
Not only are these subjects rather depressing, and certainly not positive thinking, they are rather confusing, too. This idea that death leads to life; well, to me it often seems that death leads to . . . well, death. The end. Game over.
And this connection between glorification and suffering tends to strike me as a bit off, perhaps even a bit psychologically disturbed. You know that Jesus guy, he's a little bit _____ , I'm not quite sure he has all his marbles. The word "masochism" comes to mind.
So what is going on here, Jesus? How are we to understand this suffering and death of which you speak? What is good or redemptive about it?
One way that the question of the redemptive value of Christ's suffering and death has often been answered in Christian history is in terms of his atoning sacrifice.
This is known as the substitutionary theory of atonement and I suspect we all know it. For most Christians, it is probably their primary way of thinking about Christ's death. As we learned in the church history class I taught, it found full expression in the Middle Ages under such theologians such as Anselm of Canterbury. Influenced by the feudal relationships of those times, this understanding suggests that human sin offends God and that God's righteousness demands satisfaction. Somebody had to suffer to make things right, not just somebody, but somebody pure. So Jesus, the Son of God, takes on the divine punishment we deserve in order to relieve us of our guilt and condemnation.
But as prevalent as this interpretation may be, it is quite problematic. It suggests that God is a vengeful God that demands appeasement. And to my theological reading, there is not much in the New Testament to support that image, and certainly nothing from Jesus. Jesus doesn't seem particularly concerned with individual sins, or with personal guilt.
Another problem with the substitutionary theory of atonement is what it suggests about suffering itself. It suggests that suffering is some sort of valuable commodity that can be accumulated and exchanged for holy points. Righteous suffering is defined as a good thing. This warped understanding leads to the belief that suffering is valuable as end in and of itself. I am conscious of how this understanding of suffering has been used over the years to keep people in their places. Slaves. Abused wives. Those in co-dependent relationships.
But God's economy is not based on suffering points. No, there is something else at work here.
The famous French existentialist philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre wrote a play called The Living Dead. It is set in the attic of a house in France during World War II. A half-dozen captured members of the French resistance are being held there by the Nazis. Abuse is rife as the prisoners wait anxiously for the following morning, when they will be executed. Then something unexpected happens. The door opens and the Nazi soldiers throw in the leader of the Resistance. The Nazis don't know he is the leader. Detained for being caught out after curfew, he will be released the next day.
The prisoners begin to rally behind their leader. "Don't worry. We will hold our tongues." The leader responds, "I thank you, for myself, for the Resistance, for France. Your courage and your sacrifice will not be forgotten." Suddenly, however, one of the prisoners who is eventually revealed to be the leader's fiancee, speaks up and says, "Oh, shut up. Nothing you have to say could possibly mean anything to us. I am not blaming you . . . the fact is that you are a living man and I am a dead woman, and the living and the dead have nothing to say to each other . . . and that fact puts an impenetrable barrier between us." (see Michael Battle's arcticle on pp. 140 of Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary, Year B, vol. 2, Louisville: John Knox Press, 2008).
The woman spoke truly. Although it wasn't detectable by any scientific instrument, she was right to notice that there was an invisible line in that room, a spiritual line separating the living from the dead. It was more real than anything else.
I was reminded of a movie I watched last night, "Taxi to the Dark Side," which explored prisoner abuse at Bagram and Abu Ghraib. I couldn't help but think of those contexts as analogous to the one in Sartre's play.
In such a context, the power of positive thinking has nothing to say. Boost yourself up by your bootstraps theology and look on the bright side of life psychology are exposed as hollow. They come from the other side of the line, they have no power here.
But what is redemptive about Christ's suffering and death is that in and through that suffering and death, God steps across the line. Deliberately. Definitively. The entire trajectory of Christ's life, the entire trajectory of salvation history, is a stepping out of place, it is God's stepping out of place to stand with us. With God's very self, God steps across the line, God chooses suffering
that could be avoided, not out of any love for suffering itself, but out of commitment to love those who suffer.
As William Obalil writes, "Cross-bearing is not enduring unavoidable suffering nor submitting to suffering injustice (which is masochism, the religion oppressors sell to the exploited). Cross-bearing is the suffering which must be risked and endured in order to eliminate the suffering that can be ended or to stand with those whose suffering cannot be ended. It is not loving pain, but loving others enough to accept pain. It is precisely avoidable suffering, the suffering of God, at once senseless and noble to the modern imagination." ("Word and Witness," March 17, 1991, vol. 15, No. 4)
Similarly, Dorothy Soelle writes in her book Suffering,"Who is working on the abolition of social concerns which of necessity produce suffering? Surely not those who are free from suffering. Surely not those who are incapable of suffering, who at the same time have lost the ability to perceive the suffering of others. Neither is it those who are so thoroughly destroyed through continual suffering that they can respond only in helpless or aggressive attempts to flee.
Only those who themselves are suffering will work for the abolition of concerns under which people are exposed to senseless, patently unnecessary suffering, such as hunger, oppression, or torture. Are we going to ally ourselves with them -- or are we going to remain on the other side of the barrier?
When you look at human suffering concretely you destroy all innocence, all neutrality, every attempt to say, 'It wasn't I; there is nothing I could do; I didn't know.' In the face of suffering you are either with the victim or the executioner -- there is no other option." (as quoted in "Word and Witness," March 17, 1991.)
It is through this suffering, this suffering for the sake of others, that God brings redemption. God brings redemption by exposing and destroying systems that would keep people in their places --Systems of power and privilege, systems of injustice -- God exposes as hollow all systems of domination and control built on fear and subjugation. In the cross, we see the power of God to expose the powers of the world, we see that God's love for us cannot be diminished by violence or fear. Jesus says, "Now is the judgment of this world; now the ruler of this world will be driven out. And I, when I am lifted up from earth, will draw all people to myself." In Christ's love, witnessed to in his life and in his death, there won't be places anymore, nor powers that be that keep people in them, there won't be lines, rich and poor, male and female, gay and straight, those distinctions won't matter anymore, God colors outside the lines, heaven is a child's painting, an explosion of color.
In the meantime, however, we face a choice. As Christ says, "Those who love their life will lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life. Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves me, the Father will honor."
The choice we face is whether we will bear our own crosses, whether we will risk suffering out of love of another, whether we too, like Christ, will cross the line.
Will you cross the line? Will we? Will we cross the line to stand with the living dead? Will we cross the line to stand with the tortured from Abu Ghraib, exposing the powers that be and casting out the ruler of the world? Will we cross theological lines to listen to those with whom we disagree? Will we cross the line to work to end economic injustice and suffer with the poor? Will we cross the line to stand with immigrants? with prisoners?
May God so grant us the strength and courage.