Laid Bare, Laid Out, And Laid Back
Sermon
Sermons On The Second Readings
For Sundays In Advent, Christmas, And Epiphany
Today's sermon to the Hebrews hits close to home for us in contemporary America. The word of God is a complex phenomenon when it is let loose. It exposes. It clarifies. It comforts. To miss any part of it is, perhaps, to miss it all. Fred Craddock, Professor of Preaching at Emory University, contends that the fault of preaching today is that it is preached as if nothing were at stake. Such is not the case with this message to the Hebrews. Everything is at stake. Uncomfortable and unwelcomed imagery floods those who are exposed to the vitality of God's word. The word is "living and alive." It pierces. It penetrates. It divides with sharpness. Sharper than a two-edged sword, God's word lays bare the rawness of soul and spirit. Nothing in all of creation is hidden from God's sight. It is clearly laid out in this passage that those who hear the word must give an account to God. And, finally, the passage offers the comfort of a great high priest through whose mercy and grace its hearers can lay back in certain assurance and peace. Laid bare. Laid out. Laid back.
No one can hide from God. The word of God "unveils" every human life. In the words of Thomas Long, it turns "wandering human beings into principle actors in the magnificent story of divine redemption."1 Indeed, realized or not, we wandering beings are clearly told that because of who Jesus is, a "divine claim"2 is laid on our lives.
The role that scripture as the "word" of God plays in our understanding of the gospel is as pivotal for contemporary Christians as it was for the early Christians. Israel always understands the divine word as a living active reality. Once spoken, it takes on a life of its own, bringing together past, present, and future.3 The word of God is depicted in raw, judgmental language. It culminates in a comforting notion of thanksgiving and praise, but its uncomfortable indictment of human life is unmistaken.
That God's word can pierce and divide when it runs upon and over human reality is without question. When we are laid bare, our offensive resistance to the divine reality can rip us apart. Soul and spirit and joints and marrow are divided. The thoughts and attitudes of the heart are, indeed, judged (4:13).
So penetrating is the reality of Christ that it can rip human understanding apart. Indeed, the image and words about Christ can become a downright threat to our cherished images.
A simple sculpture of a crucifix laid bare the Old First Reformed Church in Philadelphia. Larry Moog, a member of the Bird and Dirt Collaborative, was the artist. He fashioned a Christ figure out of trash he discovered in the doorways and alleys of buildings near the church. The figure, meant to represent all of humanity, was designed to transcend gender, race, and age. It possessed aluminum beads as hair, coconut shells for breasts, and sumac branches for arms. The 1,000 one-inch nails that held together the vinyl body were placed in ancient Christian patterns -- the fish and the Greek Chi-Rho. The crown of thorns on the head of the figure was composed of cast-off spark plugs. The horizontal beam of the cross bore the words: "He died to make us holy."
The huge crucifix-sculpture caused quite a stir. Geneva Butz wrote that the effect the artist wanted was for the figure to interact with the natural environment. "But the figure's interaction with the human environment was even more noteworthy."4
Many people thought the sculpture was a mockery of religion. Others found its grotesqueness to be inspiring. Words like "horrible," "hideous," and "horrendous" were used to describe the piece by those who considered it to be offensive. After only three weeks outside the church, the piece was ripped from the cross and stolen. When the sculpture was finally found, the artist reconfigured it. It was promptly stolen again.
The words of God, the images of God, the calls of God -- who would have guessed that they could lay us bare in such profound ways? The author of Hebrews was afraid that his readers were coming close to falling away from the living God. Would they remain faithful in the face of one before whom each creature's innermost thoughts and intentions are naked and laid bare?
In his best seller, The Good Book,5 Peter Gomes gives a striking example of the problems of anti-Semitism in Christian Scriptures and music. The Harvard University Choir, called by Gomes, "arguably one of the great choral groups in America," often sings the great works of Bach on Sunday mornings in the Memorial Church. One year after the choir had performed a Bach piece a female singer was in tears. They were not joyful tears. She was Jewish. She knew German. She had witnessed the pleasure the experience had given her and many others. Yet part of herself, while acknowledging the genius of Bach, knew also that the text represented everything horrid and hateful that had happened to Jews at the hands of Christians. The beauty of Bach's music was grounded in the realities of anti-Semitism.
Gomes asked the choirmaster why the Bach piece was not sung in English, since an English translation had been provided to the congregation. Why was it sung in German? The choirmaster responded: "In German it is less harsh; we can have much of the beauty without most of the pain." The "pain" referred to was the pain imposed on the Jews.6
Laid bare and laid out -- the word of God can, indeed, "pierce" with discernment as in the case of Old First Reformed Church. It can also "separate" the soul and the spirit as in Harvard's Memorial Church. Both illustrations vividly portray the inevitability of judgment. We all must render an account to God. God's discerning judgment can be quite terrifying. Laid bare and laid out! Enter the high priest and his sympathy and comfort.
Trying to follow Jesus in the way of love is as hard for us as it was for the Christians who first heard the mini-sermon presented in Hebrews. Yet the scripture lays it out: "... the word of God is living and active." If judgment is active and alive, then so is grace. Jesus is not just a prophet. Jesus is also a priest in the fullest sense of the term. Everything is in motion and everything undergoes change. Even the heavens are not static but violent beyond our imagining. Science has, thankfully, shown us that stars are born, live and die, and both wreak havoc and display beauty.
In a very real way, the same is in play in spiritual matters. We believe in an incarnate God, one who has been revealed in physical form by choice. Jesus comes not only to judge but also to reconcile us to God and one another through showing us what true love means. That is our hope. Jesus lives through the physical world so that we can discover the grace in our own lives. We can lay back and trust the high priest to lead us to the place where "we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need" (Hebrews 4:16). What gives meaning to our travel through life is the constant recognition that we have a security net below us that guarantees safe passage. Consequently, while we live with a measure of prudence and caution, we are also living laid back in love with certain confident assurances ever in hand. This is called living by faith. An author of Hebrews poignantly calls the merger of action and faith "the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen."
Laid bare, laid out, and laid back -- all three postures must be taken very seriously. Some of us recovering prophets need a priest. We have laid it bare and laid it out so long until it is hard to tell where our insolence and cynicism drown out the Good News of God's salvation. Laid bare in truth; laid out in judgment; but not laid back in love. And some of us recovering priests need a prophet. We have been highly diverted from the importance of uttering uncomfortable warnings. All living things need nourishment and pabulum and syrup cannot feed a hungry soul in a world composed of the harassed and helpless and the mangled and miserable. Tailoring a church's menu to what it perceives to be the tastes of the masses will not cut it. The church is not an institutional cafeteria to cater to impulses and transient desires. The Good News of God's salvation is not just a cuddly child in a manger but a stark figure on barren Calvary.
Laid bare, laid out, and laid back. So be it!
____________
1. Thomas G. Long, Hebrews: Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1997), p. 61.
2. The term is taken from Marion Soards, Thomas Dozeman, Kendall McCabe, Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary: Year B, After Pentecost 2 (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1993), p. 86.
3. See Harold C. Warlick, Jr., How To Be A Minister and A Human Being (Valley Forge, Pennsylvania: Judson Press, 1982), p. 75. This prophetic interpenetration of past, present, and future is called the "future perfect" by scholars.
4. Geneva M. Butz, Christmas in All Seasons (Cleveland: United Church Press, 1995), pp. 73-75. The account by Butz is a first-person account of the experience.
5. Peter J. Gomes, The Good Book: Reading the Bible With Mind and Heart (New York: William Morrow and Company, Inc., 1996), see especially, Chapter Six, "The Bible and Anti-Semitism: Christianity's Original Sin." Author's note: the six times I preached in Memorial Church, the anthem was sung in German three times, all Bach pieces.
6. Ibid.
No one can hide from God. The word of God "unveils" every human life. In the words of Thomas Long, it turns "wandering human beings into principle actors in the magnificent story of divine redemption."1 Indeed, realized or not, we wandering beings are clearly told that because of who Jesus is, a "divine claim"2 is laid on our lives.
The role that scripture as the "word" of God plays in our understanding of the gospel is as pivotal for contemporary Christians as it was for the early Christians. Israel always understands the divine word as a living active reality. Once spoken, it takes on a life of its own, bringing together past, present, and future.3 The word of God is depicted in raw, judgmental language. It culminates in a comforting notion of thanksgiving and praise, but its uncomfortable indictment of human life is unmistaken.
That God's word can pierce and divide when it runs upon and over human reality is without question. When we are laid bare, our offensive resistance to the divine reality can rip us apart. Soul and spirit and joints and marrow are divided. The thoughts and attitudes of the heart are, indeed, judged (4:13).
So penetrating is the reality of Christ that it can rip human understanding apart. Indeed, the image and words about Christ can become a downright threat to our cherished images.
A simple sculpture of a crucifix laid bare the Old First Reformed Church in Philadelphia. Larry Moog, a member of the Bird and Dirt Collaborative, was the artist. He fashioned a Christ figure out of trash he discovered in the doorways and alleys of buildings near the church. The figure, meant to represent all of humanity, was designed to transcend gender, race, and age. It possessed aluminum beads as hair, coconut shells for breasts, and sumac branches for arms. The 1,000 one-inch nails that held together the vinyl body were placed in ancient Christian patterns -- the fish and the Greek Chi-Rho. The crown of thorns on the head of the figure was composed of cast-off spark plugs. The horizontal beam of the cross bore the words: "He died to make us holy."
The huge crucifix-sculpture caused quite a stir. Geneva Butz wrote that the effect the artist wanted was for the figure to interact with the natural environment. "But the figure's interaction with the human environment was even more noteworthy."4
Many people thought the sculpture was a mockery of religion. Others found its grotesqueness to be inspiring. Words like "horrible," "hideous," and "horrendous" were used to describe the piece by those who considered it to be offensive. After only three weeks outside the church, the piece was ripped from the cross and stolen. When the sculpture was finally found, the artist reconfigured it. It was promptly stolen again.
The words of God, the images of God, the calls of God -- who would have guessed that they could lay us bare in such profound ways? The author of Hebrews was afraid that his readers were coming close to falling away from the living God. Would they remain faithful in the face of one before whom each creature's innermost thoughts and intentions are naked and laid bare?
In his best seller, The Good Book,5 Peter Gomes gives a striking example of the problems of anti-Semitism in Christian Scriptures and music. The Harvard University Choir, called by Gomes, "arguably one of the great choral groups in America," often sings the great works of Bach on Sunday mornings in the Memorial Church. One year after the choir had performed a Bach piece a female singer was in tears. They were not joyful tears. She was Jewish. She knew German. She had witnessed the pleasure the experience had given her and many others. Yet part of herself, while acknowledging the genius of Bach, knew also that the text represented everything horrid and hateful that had happened to Jews at the hands of Christians. The beauty of Bach's music was grounded in the realities of anti-Semitism.
Gomes asked the choirmaster why the Bach piece was not sung in English, since an English translation had been provided to the congregation. Why was it sung in German? The choirmaster responded: "In German it is less harsh; we can have much of the beauty without most of the pain." The "pain" referred to was the pain imposed on the Jews.6
Laid bare and laid out -- the word of God can, indeed, "pierce" with discernment as in the case of Old First Reformed Church. It can also "separate" the soul and the spirit as in Harvard's Memorial Church. Both illustrations vividly portray the inevitability of judgment. We all must render an account to God. God's discerning judgment can be quite terrifying. Laid bare and laid out! Enter the high priest and his sympathy and comfort.
Trying to follow Jesus in the way of love is as hard for us as it was for the Christians who first heard the mini-sermon presented in Hebrews. Yet the scripture lays it out: "... the word of God is living and active." If judgment is active and alive, then so is grace. Jesus is not just a prophet. Jesus is also a priest in the fullest sense of the term. Everything is in motion and everything undergoes change. Even the heavens are not static but violent beyond our imagining. Science has, thankfully, shown us that stars are born, live and die, and both wreak havoc and display beauty.
In a very real way, the same is in play in spiritual matters. We believe in an incarnate God, one who has been revealed in physical form by choice. Jesus comes not only to judge but also to reconcile us to God and one another through showing us what true love means. That is our hope. Jesus lives through the physical world so that we can discover the grace in our own lives. We can lay back and trust the high priest to lead us to the place where "we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need" (Hebrews 4:16). What gives meaning to our travel through life is the constant recognition that we have a security net below us that guarantees safe passage. Consequently, while we live with a measure of prudence and caution, we are also living laid back in love with certain confident assurances ever in hand. This is called living by faith. An author of Hebrews poignantly calls the merger of action and faith "the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen."
Laid bare, laid out, and laid back -- all three postures must be taken very seriously. Some of us recovering prophets need a priest. We have laid it bare and laid it out so long until it is hard to tell where our insolence and cynicism drown out the Good News of God's salvation. Laid bare in truth; laid out in judgment; but not laid back in love. And some of us recovering priests need a prophet. We have been highly diverted from the importance of uttering uncomfortable warnings. All living things need nourishment and pabulum and syrup cannot feed a hungry soul in a world composed of the harassed and helpless and the mangled and miserable. Tailoring a church's menu to what it perceives to be the tastes of the masses will not cut it. The church is not an institutional cafeteria to cater to impulses and transient desires. The Good News of God's salvation is not just a cuddly child in a manger but a stark figure on barren Calvary.
Laid bare, laid out, and laid back. So be it!
____________
1. Thomas G. Long, Hebrews: Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1997), p. 61.
2. The term is taken from Marion Soards, Thomas Dozeman, Kendall McCabe, Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary: Year B, After Pentecost 2 (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1993), p. 86.
3. See Harold C. Warlick, Jr., How To Be A Minister and A Human Being (Valley Forge, Pennsylvania: Judson Press, 1982), p. 75. This prophetic interpenetration of past, present, and future is called the "future perfect" by scholars.
4. Geneva M. Butz, Christmas in All Seasons (Cleveland: United Church Press, 1995), pp. 73-75. The account by Butz is a first-person account of the experience.
5. Peter J. Gomes, The Good Book: Reading the Bible With Mind and Heart (New York: William Morrow and Company, Inc., 1996), see especially, Chapter Six, "The Bible and Anti-Semitism: Christianity's Original Sin." Author's note: the six times I preached in Memorial Church, the anthem was sung in German three times, all Bach pieces.
6. Ibid.
