Sunday, February 12, 2017

How free is our will?



A Sermon preached on Epiphany VI, February 12th 2017 at St. Augustine’s, Wiesbaden
Deuteronomy 30:15-20; 1 Corinthians 3:1-9; Matthew 5:21-37

As you will no doubt hear me say more than once this year, we are celebrating the 500th anniversary of the beginning of the Reformation. One of the big Reformation themes was Free Will, and this was also the theme that lead to a brutally abrupt end of the relationship between Martin Luther and Erasmus of Rotterdam. That is Erasmus with an E by the way, as opposed to Rasmus my dog. Erasmus was a renowned humanist philosopher and at least initially a friend of the reformers. In fact it was his new Latin Bible translation based on the original Hebrew and the Greek that helped identify some of the errors in the official Vulgate Bible on which some of the more contentious Catholic doctrine was built. But Erasmus was not happy when the Reformation lead to division and his and Luther’s ways eventually parted over the topic of Free Will.

Erasmus continued to insist that there was a part of the human will, which could participate in doing good works. He denied that humans were totally corrupt – or to use the later Calvinist term, depraved. Luther on the other hand believed that humans will always tend towards Satan. There is therefore no way in which they can ever truly choose; only God’s grace can enable us to anything good. In his pamphlet “On the Enslaved Will” Luther wrote:
“As for me, I firmly confess that if it were possible I would not wish to be given free will or to have anything left in my power by which I could endeavor to be saved… for my conscience would never be certain and sure how much it had to do to satisfy God. “

Here, as so often, we see a classic case of over-correction. When we encounter an error or mistake, we tend to over-correct. The pendulum swings not to the middle, but to the opposite extreme. That is why I failed my driving test several times. The first time I failed because I was too close to the parked cars, the second time too close to the middle of the road: I over corrected.

Luther and the other reformers denied free will as a reaction to the abuses of the medieval church in setting up systems through which Christians were supposed to be able to earn salvation and the love of God.  The more good works we choose to do, including the good work of paying for ever bigger and more beautiful churches, the more God will love us and the quicker we will get into heaven when we die. For Luther and Co. this was not only corrupt, but also dangerous. If our salvation depends on us, then there will always be uncertainty about whether we have done enough. And Luther suffered massively from this insecurity while still a monk. The denial of free will was – paradoxically – for him liberating:
“I am certain and safe, because he (God) is trustworthy and will not lie to me, and also because he is so powerful and great that no devils, no adversities could break him or snatch him from me.”

But I think it is still an over-correction and I do not believe in the doctrine that all human action is utterly corrupt. If it were, and if we were not able to choose life and the path of righteousness that Moses describes in Deuteronomy, then of course we also have a problem with today’s Gospel passage. Luther’s great hero, Augustine of Hippo, stated in his book “Our Lord’s Sermon on the Mount” that “if anyone, will piously and soberly consider the sermon which our Lord Jesus Christ spoke on the mount, as we read it in the Gospel according to Matthew, I think that he will find it, so far as regards the highest morals, a perfect standard of the Christian Life.” But what is the point of there being a perfect standard of Christian Life if we cannot attain it? 

In this morning’s extract from the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus cites various Old Testament commandments. You have heard that it was said, “You shall not murder.” You have heard that it was said, “You shall not commit adultery.” You have heard that it was said, “You shall not swear falsely, but carry out the vows you have made to the Lord,” which is a combination of the two commandments, “You shall not take the LORD's name in vain” and “You shall not bear false witness.” Then with the words, “but I say,” Jesus seems to strengthen, deepen, even intensify them. You shall not be angry, you shall not look at another with lust, you shall not swear at all.

The idea that the acts forbidden by the 10 Commandments do not happen in a vacuum is not rocket science. It is clear that the roots of actual violence, of betrayal, of lies are much earlier. We all get angry, we all desire something we shouldn't, we all find ourselves in situations where a lie seems the easiest way out. The question is, what do we do next? Do we get angrier and angrier; do we let the resentment smolder, until it catches fire and breaks out as verbal or physical violence? Or do we deescalate, and reach out to the person we have angered or are angry about and reconcile ourselves? Ignore all the Oriental exaggeration of being thrown into prison, or tearing your eye out. They are just vivid warnings about the consequences and costs. It is all about turning back, all about taking a step back from the brink. This is our free choice in any given situation. Step back, reconcile, compromise, be truthful, Jesus says, not because we it gives us a special place in God’s heart. We already have that. But because it is good for us and good for the world. 

Is Jesus asking us to do something impossible? Or do these rules only apply, as Martin Luther later explained, to the heavenly kingdom? No to both. The Jesus I know would never ask us to do something impossible – and as Jesus will say later in Matthew, when discussing the dialogue with the rich young man with his disciples, for God nothing is impossible.

The idea that Jesus’ teachings only apply to the next life also runs against everything he said and taught – including in the Lord’s Prayer: your will be done, on earth as in heaven. 

Jesus presents us with a series of practical steps and actions to counter our instincts. Achieving the perfect standard of the Christian Life is not something we can do straight away or probably every day. It is something we grow into when we choose to follow Jesus.  We do not become better humans at that moment. We choose a path, we choose a process of transformation, we choose God, we ask for God’s help in prayer, and we ask for and receive God’s forgiveness when we stray and when we miss the mark.  

So, I am with Erasmus on this. We have free will and we are able to participate in doing good works, because that is how God created us, not as slaves but as partners and as co-workers. We strive for Christian perfection not as the price of being accepted and loved by God, but as the consequence of our choice for God. We have seen the perfect human, Jesus, and we strive to achieve the ideal he embodied. 

Luther said, “I am certain and safe, because he (God) is trustworthy and will not lie to me.” I agree. For me part of that trust is that if I choose to follow the example of God’s Son, and allowing myself to be guided and empowered by God’s Spirit, and put myself fully and freely in God’s hands, then nothing is impossible.
Amen.


Sunday, February 5, 2017

Salt and light



A Sermon preached on Epiphany V, February 5th 2017 at St. Augustine’s, Wiesbaden
 Isaiah 58:1-9a, 1 Corinthians 2:1-12, Matthew 5:13-20

I was away at a clergy retreat for three days last week. One of the exercises our retreat leader, Bishop Gayle Harris of Massachusetts, gave us was to first write down what we thought we did well, what we believed or what others had told us that our strengths were as priests and pastors. Then we broke up into small groups and in these groups had to tell the others what we had written down. Finally, each member of the group, there were three others in total, reflected back in their own words what they heard and from that, what they felt that person’s particular gifts or strengths were. We moved from “I am” statements to “You are/you do” statements and while some were very similar to what we had said, others were not, and I certainly received some genuine new insights. Now I just have to live up to them to all – so I am not telling you what they told me!

John’s Gospel is famous for its “I am” statements that Jesus uses to describe himself, his role, what sort of person we follow, and what sort of behavior we are called to imitate. I am the bread of life. I am the good shepherd. I am the vine. I am the light of the world. Matthew’s Jesus on the other hand, especially in the long teaching passage we call the Sermon on the Mount, instead uses lots of “You” statements, telling his listeners, his followers, telling all Christians very clearly and directly what he expects them to do and to be. “Jesus said, ‘You are the salt of the earth.’ ‘You are the light of the world.’ ‘Let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.’” (Matthew 5:13, 14, 16) Jesus says “you are” not you will be, or you might be. So how do we live up to being salt and light? 

We are salt when we help people realize that life is not worth living without God. That life is bland and flavorless, i.e. meaningless without a relationship with the Divine. We are salt when people see God in our lives, in our joy, in our mutual trust, in our faith especially when things are not going so well. If they see no difference, if we seem like everyone else, then our salt has lost its taste and is no longer fit for purpose. 

We are light when we give direction and clarity. We are light when we use our light to bring injustice into the open, when people’s faces light up with joy because of what we have done. This is the light of God that we carry within us and it is not to be hidden. None of these ideas was new when Jesus used them. Israel was always supposed to be a light to the world and Jerusalem a beacon beckoning all nations through its doors. That is what Jesus means when he says, “do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfil.” (Matthew 5:17) He has not brought a new God or a brand new law with him. He has come to renew the law. The ethical teaching of the Old Testament is a key component of Jesus’ teaching. We heard the prophet Isaiah say that what God wants is not empty ritual or lip service, but concrete action:  To loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke. To share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house. To cover the naked. (Isaiah 58:6-7) It is not a coincidence that we will hear almost the same words and phrases from Jesus later in Matthew’s Gospel, in the parable of the sheep and the goats.

When Jesus says, “unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven,” (Matthew 5:20) he is not asking us to invent and observe ever stricter rules and laws, as the Pharisees were accused of doing, but simply to make the compassion and the love that is at the core of God’s law part of our lives.  Because it is in doing so that we make God visible and tangible. “So that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.” (5:16)

A city built on a hill cannot be hid, cannot be made invisible. (5:14) For those he spoke to on that day, on the mountain, it was clear what Jesus was referring to: Jerusalem, a city built on a hill and so visible from far away. This particular image resonated with the founders and leaders of the United States from the very beginning. Even before the first puritan settlers arrived in what is now Massachusetts, while still aboard their ship Arbella, their leader John Winthrop preached a sermon "A Model of Christian Charity" to the future Massachusetts Bay colonists.  "We must always consider", he said, "that we shall be as a city upon a hill—the eyes of all people are upon us.“ By which he meant, that their new community in New England should set an example of communal charity, affection, and unity to the world. Other American leaders have used the phrase. John F. Kennedy did in 1961 and so did Ronald Reagan in his farewell speech to the nation on January 11, 1989. I will be honest with you, I never thought I would quote Ronald Reagan with appreciation. Anyway, in his speech he said:
“I've spoken of the shining city all my political life, but I don't know if I ever quite communicated what I saw when I said it. But in my mind it was a tall, proud city built on rocks stronger than oceans, wind-swept, God-blessed, and teeming with people of all kinds living in harmony and peace; a city with free ports that hummed with commerce and creativity. And if there had to be city walls, the walls had doors and the doors were open to anyone with the will and the heart to get here. That's how I saw it, and see it still.”

That is not the image the USA is currently projecting to the world, nor for that matter is it the image the United Kingdom is projecting, or Poland, or Hungary, or that the would-be leaders of France, the Netherlands and the German AfD party and even some “Christian Democrat” politicians would like their countries to project. I see and hear a rejection of diversity and difference. I see and hear walls being built and doors closed. I see isolation. I see the breaking down of relationships. I see hate, not love.

How do we react? Do not fear. Do not despair. Our faith rests not on human wisdom but on the power of God. As St. Paul tells the Corinthians, if the rulers of that age had understood God’s wisdom, they would not have crucified the Lord. But they didn’t and they still don’t. We do not have to accept what the rulers of our age do and say. On the contrary, if it contradicts what God has revealed to us through the Spirit and in God’s Son, it is our calling as salt and light to continually and persistently proclaim God’s commandments and Jesus’ teaching and to stop the world getting any darker.
Amen