Looking In All The Wrong Places
Sermon
Sermons on the Second Readings
Series II, Cycle B
Author's Note: a fun way to animate this sermon might be to play sections of the several hit songs mentioned. In my case, the music program director at the local "Golden Oldies" station was immensely helpful.
The song has long been relegated to the "Golden Oldies" category, but occasionally it can be heard on the airwaves. Long before one-name singers like Cher, Blondie, or Madonna made their mark in pop music, a little-known and even less-remembered singer named "Charlene" topped the charts. The song was addressed within the lyrics to the "frustrated mother" and "unappreciated wife" from the perspective of a woman who has been everywhere and "seen a thousand things a woman ain't s'posed to see." Yet for all her adventures and exciting travel she feels unfulfilled, even a bit envious of those with a man to fight with, and sleep with every night. She grieves for the children she will not bear and reflects, "I've been to Paradise, but I've never been to me."
The song was released amidst the turmoil of the women's liberation movement and the aftermath sexual revolution of the 1970s; and even then not everyone agreed with its sentiment (or even understood it). It stood as a kind of counterbalance to Helen Reddy's earlier smash hit, "I Am Woman." Taken together, both songs musically depict the struggle of the gender throughout the last century to find the female place in the world.
For centuries, women have been told by their cultural and religious leaders that the way to fulfillment was through homemaking and motherhood -- a kind of "Stand By Your Man" mentality (to quote another female music artist of the era). But World War II and its production demands brought economic independence to thousands of women who entered the workforce. And after that "the Pill" brought reproductive choices to millions more. Yet with those choices also came consequences. To succeed in the work place challenged the relationships of home and family. Even today, most women struggle to find the balance. Some balance their Daytimers in one hand and their children's soccer schedules in the other, all in an effort to "have it all" -- only to lose their sense of self in the process. "Finding me" has become as an intense a spiritual quest to the present generation as "finding God" has been to previous ones.
Not that men have it any easier. At the same time Helen Reddy was singing "I am woman hear me roar," the guys were watching Easy Rider, lip-synching "Born To Be Wild," and saving their money to buy a chopper. After trying to fulfill the demands of duty to family and community and nation instilled by culture and tradition, many males also experienced a loss of self. In the 1960s many did their civic duty in a place called Vietnam only to come home physically mangled and spiritually disillusioned. Even today, a man in his quest for self might abandon family and career for a flirtation with a younger woman, a fast car, and social independence. And, while only a minority of men and women actually take such drastic measures, many agonize in silence through a dull and seemingly pointless cycle of eating, sleeping, and working.
The tragedy in all of this is that, even today, we humans expend so much of our time and energy looking in all the wrong places in our search for meaning and connection. The idols of household and duty to which we were taught to bow offer precious little comfort or inspiration, and ultimately no wholeness.
None of these are evil in themselves except when they become our top priority. In fact, all have great value. Family is vitally important and enriching; but no other person can fulfill one's needs completely (even the one with whom we are madly in love, or the one to whom we gave birth). Community is essential, but likewise, it can't be counted on to meet our greatest needs. Then on the other side of the spectrum we find those who sacrifice both family and community for the sake of the quest -- for fun, for freedom, for adventure or excitement, or for the profit margin. But these also fall flat in the end.
So, do we stay in the proper place dictated to us by social conventions and traditions, or do we break all the rules and do it "My Way"? That's another "Golden Oldie" we used to play until the record broke.
In the end, the goal of the modern spiritual longing is not all that different from that of our ancient ancestors -- to be free, but connected, to experience the adventures of the world beyond the everyday and still have the comfort of human love and friendship.
The goal is to escape the dirty diapers, but keep the cuddly kisses; to find both intimacy and transcendence, relationship without vulnerability. And if we are really good we'll put these experiences to music so others can sing along!
It's a tall order.
The Christians in Rome to which the Apostle Paul wrote were part of an urbanized culture similar to our own. The gathered community had believers from various pagan and Jewish backgrounds. Voices from the synagogue insisted that the path to wholeness lay in strict adherence to the rules (of the Jewish faith, that is). Belief in Jesus was tolerated at the time for the most part, yet they insisted that salvation lay in observing the Law. But many Gentiles saw little value in circumcision or dietary demands of the Old Testament. To the Greek way of thinking, what happened to the body had little to do with the state of the soul (which departed at death). For the hedonists sensual pleasure was the ticket, "If it feels good -- do it!" And in Rome's civil religion fulfillment lay in good citizenship.
All of these approaches have their appeal. Some valued freedom and others connection. Some emphasized the earthly realm and others the heavenly. Some focused on paradise, and others on self-knowledge and pleasure.
Sadly enough, they all leave Christ and his love on the periphery, as do we at times. As both a Pharisee and a Roman citizen, Paul knew both sides of the religious quest. He had seen the moral decay of pagan idolatry and self-indulgence, and he had witnessed the self-righteous legalism of his Jewish colleagues. His zealousness for his Jewish traditions had once led him to participate in the murder of the believer Stephen. And in his own ministry he had witnessed Gentile converts exhibiting the fruits of the Holy Spirit without the trappings of Jewish covenant.
We can follow the rules and do our religious duty to the utmost, and never experience divine love. We can amass fortunes, achieve world renown, and view all the wonders of the world and still be empty inside. In the end, there is nothing we can do to get God's attention and earn God's favor, because it has already been given us through Christ.
In the end, Paul insists, it is neither obedience to the Law nor defiant self-determination that gains us access to God's divine favor. In the end, it is only Christ who opens the door and only by faith do we gain entrance. Neither Jew nor Gentile can lay claim to God's favor, because all have broken faith and sinned. Both Jew and Gentile can lay claim because Christ died for all.
It is a wondrous truth; but we forget from time to time, and because we find it hard to believe that our holy Creator could love us so much, we tend to look for insurance. We'll trust in Christ and obey the rules. We'll ask God to "give us this day our daily bread," but stock up our cupboards just in case. We'll pray for deliverance from our enemies, but stockpile our weapons to be sure. We'll confess Christ as Lord, but take charge of our own lives when it suits our purposes.
The church forgets this truth from time to time, as well. For a while, a few centuries ago, the Roman Catholic church was the only religious establishment in town, in western Europe at least. And, for a while, its priests and bishops and popes mistakenly believed they had a monopoly on divine grace. They sought to meter it out to those who professed their doctrine, obeyed their rules, and paid their apportionments (oops! make that indulgences). And when a priest named Martin Luther begged to disagree, they threatened to kick him out, or do even worse. They said if he valued his eternal soul, he'd best do his priestly duty and not question orders.
Now Martin Luther had read Paul's letter to the church at Rome, and he figured that if grace is God's prerogative and Jesus' gift to those who trust in him, then nobody but Christ could take that grace away from him, or any other believer for that matter. If Jesus' death on the cross atoned for his sins then nobody had the power to renege on the promise made in scripture: "we are justified by faith." He figured his eternal soul was in God's hands and none others'. So he nailed his protests to the door of the church and changed the course of Christian history.
Not that the protestants who agreed with him have lived happily ever after, mind you. We still struggle with many of the same issues. We hear many of those same voices from our world that Paul and Luther addressed in theirs. Right doctrine and correct behavior are still held up as the path to salvation. Giving homage to earthly forces, or learning to manipulate them, is still proclaimed as the ticket to ultimate success and fulfillment.
Martin Luther, like the Apostle Paul, knew that real salvation -- real connection with our divine Creator -- is made possible only through Christ's love for us. Other reformers like Wycliff, Calvin, and the Wesley brothers understood it, too. Deep down, the whole church does, but we profess this grace in different ways and with differing emphases.
In Christ, our spiritual quest is complete, our longings are fulfilled by:
¥
trusting in his mercy we are freed from our guilt.
¥
submitting to his dominion we are emancipated from bondage to legalism and delivered from slavery to selfishness and empty pleasures.
¥
being filled with his Spirit we are given liberty to love others in creative and inspired ways without regard to their return of affection. We are freed to connect joyfully with others without fear of their demands.
¥
being perfected in his love. Through this perfected love we are able to know ourselves through the eyes and heart of our Creator, and we are challenged to grow and achieve beyond anything we thought possible. In serving Christ we find our true selves, and achieve our true calling. We are given a purpose beyond ourselves and find our true life beyond our mortal existence.
It is not by our own efforts, our own striving, our own brilliance, that we find our place in the cosmos, or find purpose and power in our place on earth. By trusting in Christ and yielding only to his command, we find both ourselves and our home in paradise.
The song has long been relegated to the "Golden Oldies" category, but occasionally it can be heard on the airwaves. Long before one-name singers like Cher, Blondie, or Madonna made their mark in pop music, a little-known and even less-remembered singer named "Charlene" topped the charts. The song was addressed within the lyrics to the "frustrated mother" and "unappreciated wife" from the perspective of a woman who has been everywhere and "seen a thousand things a woman ain't s'posed to see." Yet for all her adventures and exciting travel she feels unfulfilled, even a bit envious of those with a man to fight with, and sleep with every night. She grieves for the children she will not bear and reflects, "I've been to Paradise, but I've never been to me."
The song was released amidst the turmoil of the women's liberation movement and the aftermath sexual revolution of the 1970s; and even then not everyone agreed with its sentiment (or even understood it). It stood as a kind of counterbalance to Helen Reddy's earlier smash hit, "I Am Woman." Taken together, both songs musically depict the struggle of the gender throughout the last century to find the female place in the world.
For centuries, women have been told by their cultural and religious leaders that the way to fulfillment was through homemaking and motherhood -- a kind of "Stand By Your Man" mentality (to quote another female music artist of the era). But World War II and its production demands brought economic independence to thousands of women who entered the workforce. And after that "the Pill" brought reproductive choices to millions more. Yet with those choices also came consequences. To succeed in the work place challenged the relationships of home and family. Even today, most women struggle to find the balance. Some balance their Daytimers in one hand and their children's soccer schedules in the other, all in an effort to "have it all" -- only to lose their sense of self in the process. "Finding me" has become as an intense a spiritual quest to the present generation as "finding God" has been to previous ones.
Not that men have it any easier. At the same time Helen Reddy was singing "I am woman hear me roar," the guys were watching Easy Rider, lip-synching "Born To Be Wild," and saving their money to buy a chopper. After trying to fulfill the demands of duty to family and community and nation instilled by culture and tradition, many males also experienced a loss of self. In the 1960s many did their civic duty in a place called Vietnam only to come home physically mangled and spiritually disillusioned. Even today, a man in his quest for self might abandon family and career for a flirtation with a younger woman, a fast car, and social independence. And, while only a minority of men and women actually take such drastic measures, many agonize in silence through a dull and seemingly pointless cycle of eating, sleeping, and working.
The tragedy in all of this is that, even today, we humans expend so much of our time and energy looking in all the wrong places in our search for meaning and connection. The idols of household and duty to which we were taught to bow offer precious little comfort or inspiration, and ultimately no wholeness.
None of these are evil in themselves except when they become our top priority. In fact, all have great value. Family is vitally important and enriching; but no other person can fulfill one's needs completely (even the one with whom we are madly in love, or the one to whom we gave birth). Community is essential, but likewise, it can't be counted on to meet our greatest needs. Then on the other side of the spectrum we find those who sacrifice both family and community for the sake of the quest -- for fun, for freedom, for adventure or excitement, or for the profit margin. But these also fall flat in the end.
So, do we stay in the proper place dictated to us by social conventions and traditions, or do we break all the rules and do it "My Way"? That's another "Golden Oldie" we used to play until the record broke.
In the end, the goal of the modern spiritual longing is not all that different from that of our ancient ancestors -- to be free, but connected, to experience the adventures of the world beyond the everyday and still have the comfort of human love and friendship.
The goal is to escape the dirty diapers, but keep the cuddly kisses; to find both intimacy and transcendence, relationship without vulnerability. And if we are really good we'll put these experiences to music so others can sing along!
It's a tall order.
The Christians in Rome to which the Apostle Paul wrote were part of an urbanized culture similar to our own. The gathered community had believers from various pagan and Jewish backgrounds. Voices from the synagogue insisted that the path to wholeness lay in strict adherence to the rules (of the Jewish faith, that is). Belief in Jesus was tolerated at the time for the most part, yet they insisted that salvation lay in observing the Law. But many Gentiles saw little value in circumcision or dietary demands of the Old Testament. To the Greek way of thinking, what happened to the body had little to do with the state of the soul (which departed at death). For the hedonists sensual pleasure was the ticket, "If it feels good -- do it!" And in Rome's civil religion fulfillment lay in good citizenship.
All of these approaches have their appeal. Some valued freedom and others connection. Some emphasized the earthly realm and others the heavenly. Some focused on paradise, and others on self-knowledge and pleasure.
Sadly enough, they all leave Christ and his love on the periphery, as do we at times. As both a Pharisee and a Roman citizen, Paul knew both sides of the religious quest. He had seen the moral decay of pagan idolatry and self-indulgence, and he had witnessed the self-righteous legalism of his Jewish colleagues. His zealousness for his Jewish traditions had once led him to participate in the murder of the believer Stephen. And in his own ministry he had witnessed Gentile converts exhibiting the fruits of the Holy Spirit without the trappings of Jewish covenant.
We can follow the rules and do our religious duty to the utmost, and never experience divine love. We can amass fortunes, achieve world renown, and view all the wonders of the world and still be empty inside. In the end, there is nothing we can do to get God's attention and earn God's favor, because it has already been given us through Christ.
In the end, Paul insists, it is neither obedience to the Law nor defiant self-determination that gains us access to God's divine favor. In the end, it is only Christ who opens the door and only by faith do we gain entrance. Neither Jew nor Gentile can lay claim to God's favor, because all have broken faith and sinned. Both Jew and Gentile can lay claim because Christ died for all.
It is a wondrous truth; but we forget from time to time, and because we find it hard to believe that our holy Creator could love us so much, we tend to look for insurance. We'll trust in Christ and obey the rules. We'll ask God to "give us this day our daily bread," but stock up our cupboards just in case. We'll pray for deliverance from our enemies, but stockpile our weapons to be sure. We'll confess Christ as Lord, but take charge of our own lives when it suits our purposes.
The church forgets this truth from time to time, as well. For a while, a few centuries ago, the Roman Catholic church was the only religious establishment in town, in western Europe at least. And, for a while, its priests and bishops and popes mistakenly believed they had a monopoly on divine grace. They sought to meter it out to those who professed their doctrine, obeyed their rules, and paid their apportionments (oops! make that indulgences). And when a priest named Martin Luther begged to disagree, they threatened to kick him out, or do even worse. They said if he valued his eternal soul, he'd best do his priestly duty and not question orders.
Now Martin Luther had read Paul's letter to the church at Rome, and he figured that if grace is God's prerogative and Jesus' gift to those who trust in him, then nobody but Christ could take that grace away from him, or any other believer for that matter. If Jesus' death on the cross atoned for his sins then nobody had the power to renege on the promise made in scripture: "we are justified by faith." He figured his eternal soul was in God's hands and none others'. So he nailed his protests to the door of the church and changed the course of Christian history.
Not that the protestants who agreed with him have lived happily ever after, mind you. We still struggle with many of the same issues. We hear many of those same voices from our world that Paul and Luther addressed in theirs. Right doctrine and correct behavior are still held up as the path to salvation. Giving homage to earthly forces, or learning to manipulate them, is still proclaimed as the ticket to ultimate success and fulfillment.
Martin Luther, like the Apostle Paul, knew that real salvation -- real connection with our divine Creator -- is made possible only through Christ's love for us. Other reformers like Wycliff, Calvin, and the Wesley brothers understood it, too. Deep down, the whole church does, but we profess this grace in different ways and with differing emphases.
In Christ, our spiritual quest is complete, our longings are fulfilled by:
¥
trusting in his mercy we are freed from our guilt.
¥
submitting to his dominion we are emancipated from bondage to legalism and delivered from slavery to selfishness and empty pleasures.
¥
being filled with his Spirit we are given liberty to love others in creative and inspired ways without regard to their return of affection. We are freed to connect joyfully with others without fear of their demands.
¥
being perfected in his love. Through this perfected love we are able to know ourselves through the eyes and heart of our Creator, and we are challenged to grow and achieve beyond anything we thought possible. In serving Christ we find our true selves, and achieve our true calling. We are given a purpose beyond ourselves and find our true life beyond our mortal existence.
It is not by our own efforts, our own striving, our own brilliance, that we find our place in the cosmos, or find purpose and power in our place on earth. By trusting in Christ and yielding only to his command, we find both ourselves and our home in paradise.
