Advent: An Irrational Sense Of Peace
Sermon
Sermons on the Second Readings
Series II, Cycle C
We are always touched by newspaper or media stories of people who have come through some terrible experience and yet seem unhinged by it all. Some people find their health slipping away, yet exhibit courage and trust in both the provisional and ultimate goodness of life. Others witness the death of a child, or spouse, or partner, and do not give in to the despair that invites them into its darkness. We hear of people who live through one of nature's raging storms, inflicting great damage to their homes and surrounding areas, but after a brief period of grief, set about to rebuild their homes and neighborhoods. Many discover the betrayal of friends or loved ones, their character and reputation sullied, yet, like many of the psalmists, remain faithful and composed.
Our scripture this morning gives witness to this God-given human capacity. Paul tells the Philippian congregation, "Do not worry about anything" (4:6a). We know that Paul's life as a witness to the gospel in Jesus Christ gave him a lot to worry about. He was badgered constantly by those who wanted to keep the new faith a matter of rules. Then he had to deal with those who preached that detachment from the world was the way to go. He was physically beaten and stoned, and in one of his writings he spoke of experiencing hunger and thirst. Perhaps Paul won more converts by his trusting demeanor than by his preaching or teaching.
At any rate, Paul says that if we pray and give God thanks, speaking to God of our honest needs, then we will know "the peace of God, which passes all understanding (guarding our) hearts and minds in Christ Jesus" (4:7).
The inner peace to which Paul attests does not pass the "reason test." This test comes in three forms. The first: Does our peace seem appropriate in the face of some great personal tribulation? Isn't a deep pessimism a more realistic response to our life's shattering? To cease believing in any goodness, provisionally or ultimately, often feels more reasonable. Paul's articulation of peace in spite of all sufferings and troubles fails this first reason test -- it comes on as quite abnormal and strange.
The biographers of Mark Twain point this out. They tell us this folksy humorist hid a deep sense of the unreasonableness of human existence in his writing. This rejection of any present or final peace was fed by continual financial troubles, then the death of his daughter, and finally by the death of his wife. We must not lightly judge Twain, for in similar circumstances all of us would discover the almost insurmountable temptation to give in to despair. All of this makes Paul's offering a hope that is unattainable and likely an unreasonable possibility.
The second reason test looming up in the face of Paul's "the peace of God, which passes all understanding," holds that seeking or testifying to this peace is a form of escape from life's troubles and sufferings. Some people are burdened by terrible panic attacks. They become unable to function on their job or in the normal run of their lives. Some of them progress until they cannot leave their home or those places where they feel safe and free from their paralyzing panic. We know that much of their panic is caused by a malfunction of the chemistry in the brain. Most of them cannot free themselves from their panic by trying harder. Wise medication from a doctor or specialist, along with some helpful therapy, enables them to resume a more normal life.
But these panic-ridden folks, while not deserving any of our moral judgment for their escapist life responses, do depict some of our chosen escapisms seemingly tied to the detachment Paul offers. Some religiously inspired detachment from living a normal life, by ministering to the sufferings of others, and accepting our share of making the world a less harmful place, also fails reason's insistence that we cannot and should not withdraw from life.
When Buddha found the same "peace that passes all understanding" as Paul, he insisted one could not enjoy this peace while others suffered. Instead of stepping over into the ultimate peace of Nirvana, Buddha gave himself to teaching others how to reach this peaceful goal. Christians in the season of Lent focus on Jesus who did not stay out of harm's way by remaining in the peace and safety of Galilee. Rather, he headed up to Jerusalem, plunging himself into the middle of the personal and public sufferings of others.
A recent best-seller, How the Irish Saved Civilization, tells how Irish monks tenderly preserved much of the classic literature of Greece and Rome during a time when the educational lights had died out in Europe. Wonderfully, the book argues that these Irish monks were not satisfied with keeping these classic treasures for themselves. Instead they set out to leave their safe island, taking this lost learning to schools, which they created on the continent. They saved, says the author, civilized literature and philosophy for civilization then and now. So any temptations for our inward peace, pushing us to detach from a worldly life fails this second form of the test of reason. Therefore, it must be rejected.
The third reason test of Paul's "the peace of God that passes all understanding" is that this peace is finally at the mercy of personal and cosmic oblivion. A young college student in a philosophy course was studying the works of Immanuel Kant, an eighteenth-century German philosopher. Thinking that Kant's detailed reasoning would nail down some important philosophical matters, the student was distressed to learn that Kant said that philosophically all the great issues could be argued both ways -- for and against. Reason gives no firm conclusion. The student wondered if we were all adrift in a meaninglessness sea.
Following Kant, reason can say that Paul's insistence upon an inward peace beyond our sufferings and despair is unreliable. Reason can argue powerfully that this so-called inner peace is an illusion, often self-created to shield us from present troubles, and from the conclusion that life -- the cosmos and ours -- is doomed. Atheists, scientific materialists, and many types of humanists all reason this way. The classic statement of this is found in Sigmund Freud's, The Future of an Illusion. From the title of this book we instantly know that he finds religion an unreasonable commitment, illusionary but helpful to many who cannot face their troubles and the everlasting death that awaits all creation and us.
Christians must take this third objection of reason seriously. We do not want to live with a basic illusion. Later Kant offered a place for faith beyond any of reason's questions, saying that God, freedom, and immortality, while not affirmed by reason could be held beyond reason. Kant's lean faith was not sufficient for any full explication of the gospel, or of Paul's testimony to the "peace that passes all understanding." Yet, he made room for us, along with Paul, to trust in the basic goodness of life, despite all the hurts, disappointments, and suffering we face along the way.
Sometimes this trust formed by our inward peace pushes us into risky and courageous actions. An elderly and "straight" retired pastor was distressed by his denomination's refusal to accept and bless marital unions and ordain gay and lesbian people. Of course, as for heterosexuals, he held gay and lesbian people to the basic Christian standards of committed and faithful relationships. But in his deep concern, he surrendered his ordinational credentials and all his pension and health benefits as a form of protest. Now he functions as a lay person in another denomination. His sacrifice will not create changes in the denomination that he served for so many years. However, he becomes a small part in creating the tension that will someday honor his convictions.
For most of us, our discovery in the reality of Paul's "peace that passes all understanding" will not take such drastic form. As someone once said, "We are not to die on all the crosses; and certainly not all of us are to die on any cross. But in exuding a calm, trusting faith in life's basic goodness we make an important witness that others can hardly miss noting." In one of William Faulkner's novels, he tells of Dilsey, the domestic who was the single person in Faulkner's fictitious, yet believable southern family, who was stable. Summing up Dilsey, Faulkner said, "She endured."
Well, endurance is certainly a Christian virtue. One pastor says he found himself telling troubled people coming to him for strength, "Hang in there!" This wasn't said glibly or as taking lightly the pains and sufferings of those looking to him for help. It was said with the unspoken belief that in our resolve to endure, we discover a strength and ability beyond ourselves. Our peace is grounded in God's love, not something we manufacture. To suggest that we must come up with this strength all by ourselves would be cruel. We cannot create it, but we can open ourselves to receiving it into our lives.
When this happens, nothing outward may be changed. We still suffer the same hurts and tragedies as anyone else. The world continues to be a place disappointing our hopes for peace, justice, and well being for the lowly. But inwardly, we are freed from the despair that keeps us running away from life and for concluding that life adds up to absurdity. Instead, we have the "peace that passes all understanding" so that we can live with dignity, peace, and rejoicing in the present blessings and provisional goodness that are finally caught up in God's everlasting life.
Our scripture this morning gives witness to this God-given human capacity. Paul tells the Philippian congregation, "Do not worry about anything" (4:6a). We know that Paul's life as a witness to the gospel in Jesus Christ gave him a lot to worry about. He was badgered constantly by those who wanted to keep the new faith a matter of rules. Then he had to deal with those who preached that detachment from the world was the way to go. He was physically beaten and stoned, and in one of his writings he spoke of experiencing hunger and thirst. Perhaps Paul won more converts by his trusting demeanor than by his preaching or teaching.
At any rate, Paul says that if we pray and give God thanks, speaking to God of our honest needs, then we will know "the peace of God, which passes all understanding (guarding our) hearts and minds in Christ Jesus" (4:7).
The inner peace to which Paul attests does not pass the "reason test." This test comes in three forms. The first: Does our peace seem appropriate in the face of some great personal tribulation? Isn't a deep pessimism a more realistic response to our life's shattering? To cease believing in any goodness, provisionally or ultimately, often feels more reasonable. Paul's articulation of peace in spite of all sufferings and troubles fails this first reason test -- it comes on as quite abnormal and strange.
The biographers of Mark Twain point this out. They tell us this folksy humorist hid a deep sense of the unreasonableness of human existence in his writing. This rejection of any present or final peace was fed by continual financial troubles, then the death of his daughter, and finally by the death of his wife. We must not lightly judge Twain, for in similar circumstances all of us would discover the almost insurmountable temptation to give in to despair. All of this makes Paul's offering a hope that is unattainable and likely an unreasonable possibility.
The second reason test looming up in the face of Paul's "the peace of God, which passes all understanding," holds that seeking or testifying to this peace is a form of escape from life's troubles and sufferings. Some people are burdened by terrible panic attacks. They become unable to function on their job or in the normal run of their lives. Some of them progress until they cannot leave their home or those places where they feel safe and free from their paralyzing panic. We know that much of their panic is caused by a malfunction of the chemistry in the brain. Most of them cannot free themselves from their panic by trying harder. Wise medication from a doctor or specialist, along with some helpful therapy, enables them to resume a more normal life.
But these panic-ridden folks, while not deserving any of our moral judgment for their escapist life responses, do depict some of our chosen escapisms seemingly tied to the detachment Paul offers. Some religiously inspired detachment from living a normal life, by ministering to the sufferings of others, and accepting our share of making the world a less harmful place, also fails reason's insistence that we cannot and should not withdraw from life.
When Buddha found the same "peace that passes all understanding" as Paul, he insisted one could not enjoy this peace while others suffered. Instead of stepping over into the ultimate peace of Nirvana, Buddha gave himself to teaching others how to reach this peaceful goal. Christians in the season of Lent focus on Jesus who did not stay out of harm's way by remaining in the peace and safety of Galilee. Rather, he headed up to Jerusalem, plunging himself into the middle of the personal and public sufferings of others.
A recent best-seller, How the Irish Saved Civilization, tells how Irish monks tenderly preserved much of the classic literature of Greece and Rome during a time when the educational lights had died out in Europe. Wonderfully, the book argues that these Irish monks were not satisfied with keeping these classic treasures for themselves. Instead they set out to leave their safe island, taking this lost learning to schools, which they created on the continent. They saved, says the author, civilized literature and philosophy for civilization then and now. So any temptations for our inward peace, pushing us to detach from a worldly life fails this second form of the test of reason. Therefore, it must be rejected.
The third reason test of Paul's "the peace of God that passes all understanding" is that this peace is finally at the mercy of personal and cosmic oblivion. A young college student in a philosophy course was studying the works of Immanuel Kant, an eighteenth-century German philosopher. Thinking that Kant's detailed reasoning would nail down some important philosophical matters, the student was distressed to learn that Kant said that philosophically all the great issues could be argued both ways -- for and against. Reason gives no firm conclusion. The student wondered if we were all adrift in a meaninglessness sea.
Following Kant, reason can say that Paul's insistence upon an inward peace beyond our sufferings and despair is unreliable. Reason can argue powerfully that this so-called inner peace is an illusion, often self-created to shield us from present troubles, and from the conclusion that life -- the cosmos and ours -- is doomed. Atheists, scientific materialists, and many types of humanists all reason this way. The classic statement of this is found in Sigmund Freud's, The Future of an Illusion. From the title of this book we instantly know that he finds religion an unreasonable commitment, illusionary but helpful to many who cannot face their troubles and the everlasting death that awaits all creation and us.
Christians must take this third objection of reason seriously. We do not want to live with a basic illusion. Later Kant offered a place for faith beyond any of reason's questions, saying that God, freedom, and immortality, while not affirmed by reason could be held beyond reason. Kant's lean faith was not sufficient for any full explication of the gospel, or of Paul's testimony to the "peace that passes all understanding." Yet, he made room for us, along with Paul, to trust in the basic goodness of life, despite all the hurts, disappointments, and suffering we face along the way.
Sometimes this trust formed by our inward peace pushes us into risky and courageous actions. An elderly and "straight" retired pastor was distressed by his denomination's refusal to accept and bless marital unions and ordain gay and lesbian people. Of course, as for heterosexuals, he held gay and lesbian people to the basic Christian standards of committed and faithful relationships. But in his deep concern, he surrendered his ordinational credentials and all his pension and health benefits as a form of protest. Now he functions as a lay person in another denomination. His sacrifice will not create changes in the denomination that he served for so many years. However, he becomes a small part in creating the tension that will someday honor his convictions.
For most of us, our discovery in the reality of Paul's "peace that passes all understanding" will not take such drastic form. As someone once said, "We are not to die on all the crosses; and certainly not all of us are to die on any cross. But in exuding a calm, trusting faith in life's basic goodness we make an important witness that others can hardly miss noting." In one of William Faulkner's novels, he tells of Dilsey, the domestic who was the single person in Faulkner's fictitious, yet believable southern family, who was stable. Summing up Dilsey, Faulkner said, "She endured."
Well, endurance is certainly a Christian virtue. One pastor says he found himself telling troubled people coming to him for strength, "Hang in there!" This wasn't said glibly or as taking lightly the pains and sufferings of those looking to him for help. It was said with the unspoken belief that in our resolve to endure, we discover a strength and ability beyond ourselves. Our peace is grounded in God's love, not something we manufacture. To suggest that we must come up with this strength all by ourselves would be cruel. We cannot create it, but we can open ourselves to receiving it into our lives.
When this happens, nothing outward may be changed. We still suffer the same hurts and tragedies as anyone else. The world continues to be a place disappointing our hopes for peace, justice, and well being for the lowly. But inwardly, we are freed from the despair that keeps us running away from life and for concluding that life adds up to absurdity. Instead, we have the "peace that passes all understanding" so that we can live with dignity, peace, and rejoicing in the present blessings and provisional goodness that are finally caught up in God's everlasting life.
