Wednesday, April 9, 2014

Sermon, Lent 2: Kierkegaard, Nicodemus, and messiness

Preached at St Paul's Cathedral
Lent 2
March 16, 2014

Lessons
http://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu/texts.php?id=25


In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.

In the north of Denmark is the medieval city of Aalborg, famous in past times for its thriving trade in salted herring.  And in this small, quiet Danish city in the 19th century, the Bishop of Aalborg had a problem.  Actually, it was a problem that involved the whole of the Lutheran Church of Denmark, but it was a unique problem in Aalborg.  At that time, the bishop of Aalborg, Peter Kierkegaard, found himself often needing to speak out against the secular and anti-Christian writings of a difficult and prolific writer.  This was a messy thing for the bishop of Aalborg because that writer happened to be his younger brother, Soren Kierkegaard.  Peter frequently had to choose between relationship and faith.

The Danish bishops claimed that Soren called into question the tenets and traditions of the Church, and high on the bishops’ list of criticisms was Soren’s short work entitled Fear and Trembling.  That book is an exploration of Abraham, and a review of faith: the virtue for which Abraham is so well known.  And it is Abraham who in ancient times, in 19th century Denmark, and even today the Church still lifts up as a model of faith.  There is no one else in the Church’s history who is so esteemed as a perfect example of faith.  Soren Kierkegaard thought, however, that faith might be more complicated than Abraham’s example of unquestioned obedience.

In the first lesson from Genesis, the epistle reading from the Letter to the Romans, and in the Gospel this morning, we hear Sacred Scripture mention faith.  The readings remember Abraham for his faith for a number of reasons, but in particular for a story that unfolds on the slopes of Mt Moriah, when God asks Abraham to sacrifice his son, Isaac; Abraham readies a knife meant for his son, but is stopped at the last moment and given a ram to sacrifice in Isaac’s stead.  Kierkegaard criticizes the Church for holding up Abraham and his faith based on this act.

Even though the Church has used that passage from Genesis to instruct about the virtue of faith, it’s actually a brief story, and includes few details.  So, in Fear and Trembling, Kierkegaard paints in a hypothetical background for us.  In one passage about what may have unfolded, Kierkegaard writes that Abraham’s faith in God is so absolute that requires that he follow God’s command to sacrifice Isaac.  But, Kierkegaard wonders if Abraham worries that, as Isaac is laid out for sacrifice he will kick and scream and curse their God who asked for the sacrifice, that Isaac will lose his faith even as he is given up according to his God’s desire.

And so, Kierkegaard wonders if Abraham so valued his faith in God and so valued Isaac’s faith in God, that Abraham would do anything to preserve both.  Kierkegaard writes:

The two of them climbed Mt Moriah, but Isaac did not understand Abraham’s words about sacrifice.  Then for an instant, Abraham turned away from Isaac, and when Isaac again saw Abraham’s face it was changed, his glance was wild, his form was horror.  He seized Isaac by the throat, threw him to the ground, and said, “Stupid boy, do you then suppose that I am your protector? Do you suppose that this is God’s bidding?  NO!  It is my desire.” Then Isaac trembled and cried out in his terror “O God in heaven, have compassion on me! If I have no father on earth, then you are my father in heaven!”  And Abraham in a low voice whispered to himself  “O lord in heaven, I thank you. After all, it is better for him to believe I am a monster, rather than that he should lose faith in you”.

Faith, Kierkegaard thought, was not something to be valued above all other things; faith, Kierkegaard thought, was not a simple thing.

In today’s Gospel, Christ told Nicodemus that faith was not a simple thing.  Nicodemus came at night, secretly, asking about how the works that Christ was doing, how those works were part of God’s plan.  Christ immediately avoids the issue and changes the topic to what is truly at the heart of the discussion: faith.  Christ responds to Nicodemus that seeing the kingdom of God, that having faith, is only possible if you are born again, if you’re born from above.  Faith, Christ tells Nicodemus, is taking on the mind of God, and seeing in a new way how God is working in the world and in our lives.

We can often think of faith in God like Kierkegaard wondered if Abraham may have thought of it: as something so precious that it must be protected at all costs, as something that must never be defiled, that it might be better to destroy a relationship but keep our faith intact, better to maintain utmost fidelity than to fall, better to obey than to love.

But hear again how Christ describes faith, not as a litmus test, not as a standard to be obeyed: Christ, in a dark garden, whispered to Nicodemus that faith was being born from above. 

In Scripture, we are often given images and recollections of God that seem entirely contradictory.  In Genesis, God demanded Abraham kill and burn his son Isaac to show that he was truly devoted to God.  We hear of God bringing death and destruction, vengeful armies, pestilence, disease.  We hear of God sending angels to bear us up lest we dash our foot against a stone, of our God who loves us like a mother, of our God who so loved the world that he sent his only Son.  How can all of these stories, all of these images be of the same God?  Of the same God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob?  Of the same God of Nicodemus?  Of the same God of Jesus?
 
If we accept that faith is only as deep as the last command we received, as a list of instructions, then these different stories of God stand as a testimony that our faith is hollow, nothing but the dust from which we are made and to which we will return.  But, if we are born from above, if we begin to see ourselves and our lives as God sees us then it becomes so much clearer.  The stories of an angry God, of a compassionate God, of a jealous God, of a self-sacrificing God are stories given to us, true stories written by those who lived these experiences of God.  They are given to us because we can be angry, we can be compassionate, we are jealous, we are self-sacrificing.  God, in his perfection, reveals himself to us, by being more than only one thing, just as we are more than only one thing.  God is perfect, and holy, and the source of all goodness, but that doesn’t mean that he is not complex, that he’s not messy.

We are messy, too.

This is our second Sunday in Lent, and we do well to recall that the season of Lent follows immediately after the season of Epiphany.  In Epiphany, the lessons focus on the divine and miraculous nature of God’s work in the world, especially in his work in Christ: water is changed into wine, Christ converses with Moses and Elijah in dazzling light, wise men follow a supernatural sign to the east.  And then Lent opens with this perfect and dazzling Christ doing what?  Being tempted…being pulled toward denying God and accepting power from the Devil.  Our God is not just one thing: he is both dazzling and able to be tempted, just as we can be both dazzling and also be tempted.

Abandoning faith as a list of commands that must be always believed and blindly obeyed, abandoning that and replacing it with a birth from above means that we accept that we are both dazzling and tempted.  When we are in the midst of our achievements and highest points, we must also remember our sins, remember the sufferings of our neighbors.  And when we’ve hit rock bottom, when all seems lost, we remember that we are loved, that a ram was given in place of our sacrifice.

Epiphany is about God’s glory and about majesty shining forth in the world.  Lent is about God’s temptation, his suffering, and his loss.  And Lent is about our temptation, our suffering, our loss.  It’s about all of that, coupled with our love, with our glory.  Lent is about the very reality that our lives, our God are messy.

We may think about Lent as a time of penitence: breast-beating, crawling, weeping penitence and self-denial for our manifold sins and wickedness.  However, it is impossible to be penitent unless the first step we take is to be honest.  Honesty requires us to admit and cherish that we are beloved children of God, that we are given life as a free and beautiful gift, and that we have often betrayed that gift through negligence and selfishness.  Being honest means that we accept our lives as being messy, accept that no list of rules can make us holy, no list can be copyrighted as faith. 

Honesty also should lead us to find faith, not only in obedience as Abraham found it, but also finding faith by being born from above, by taking on the mind of God in Christ, and seeing as God sees.  For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have everlasting life.



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