Where The Rubber Meets The Road
Sermon
Sermons On The First Readings
Series II, Cycle A
Object:
I don't need to tell you that we belong to a portion of the Christian family called the "Protestant Church." I also don't need to tell you that there's a whole lot of history behind all this, and frankly, I am going to choose to share that on another day. One part of our Protestant identity is something that we see every time we come into our church. It's something we look at every day, and don't think about too much. Take a look up on our altar. What do you see? That's right. It's the cross.
On our altar is a representation of the instrument of execution that was used by the Romans to kill Jesus. We've lost much of the power of this symbol over time. There are a lot of reasons for this, not the least of which is the fact that we no longer execute people on crosses these days. A more contemporary expression of the cross might be an electric chair or a syringe. That way people would have a clearer grip on what it is that we are focusing on tonight.
As it is, we have our cross, and I offer no complaints or radical calls to change our symbol. What I am really seeking to point out is the fact that if we went into a Roman Catholic church tonight or any time, the cross would look different. Can anyone say why? Of course you can. A Roman Catholic cross is different because it displays the figure of the crucified Jesus hanging right there in front of you. Little imagination is required there. The message is clear. The Son of God was hung on a cross for you and for me. It's called a crucifix.
In our Protestant process we did away with the body on the cross because, I was told, we focus on the risen Christ, which I was also told, is really the point anyway.
So there you have it. Body or no body, it's still the cross, and now that I've brought all this up, I want to say that I'm going to choose to avoid this discussion in any meaningful way except to say that tonight, it's important that we think together about that body hanging from the cross. Tonight, the image of our Lord having made that sacrifice is something we really need to consider in prayer and in worship.
Tonight, let us imagine the sacrifice that was made for you and for me.
In our life of faith, we do not have what the scholars would call "a theology of the cross." That is, we don't spend a whole lot of time dwelling on the sacrifice that atoned for our sins and brought us the chance to participate in the new life we have in Christ. But, tonight is a good time to go there. Tonight, let us walk to the foot of the cross.
This graphic reading from the prophet Isaiah that we shared this evening is the template for what we call "atonement theology." It is at the core of how we understand that on this night, Jesus died for our sins. In this much, I concur with my Roman Catholic sisters and brothers in their placement of Jesus' body on the cross. We Protestants may wish to focus on the empty cross and the risen Christ, but without the crucifixion, none of this would be possible. Indeed, some of my Jesuit friends have accused us of skipping over the tough spot and heading right for the dessert bar.
The theology of atonement puts it pretty simply. God, in Christ Jesus, went to the cross to take on the sins of the world so that we might find salvation. We can see this thinking in Isaiah as he writes, "and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of all" (Isaiah 53:6). For most people this is a tough one to grasp, so let me put it another way.
Have you ever had someone take the fall for you? Maybe it was in school and you broke the window, but your friend accepted the blame rather than see you get in trouble. Or possibly it was someone who stood up for you and took punishment that would have come on you had this person not intervened. There are countless stories of self-sacrifice in time of tumult and war. I am reminded of the story of the father who stepped in front of his son so that he would go to the Nazi gas chambers in his son's place.
All of these stories reveal to some extent, what we claim in the crucifixion of Jesus Christ. What we accept, indeed, what we affirm with power tonight is the notion that it wasn't just one thing or one error or a couple of bad things, but the sins and brokenness of the whole world that Jesus took on himself. Think for a minute of the worst thing you've done. Multiply that times humanity and then you begin to get it.
Yes, I know, atonement is not popular in some circles these days. As a culture we don't much like the idea of sacrifice in any form, let alone a blood sacrifice. Moreover, we don't much like the idea of the idea that we are broken and sinful. In an "I'm okay you're okay" kind of world, any idea that challenges this is suspect. The undeniable truth, though, is that we're not okay. We somehow, as Paul writes so cogently, cannot manage to do the things we know are good and right, but instead we do the things that we know are wrong.
I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate. Now if I do what I do not want, I agree that the law is good. But in fact it is no longer I that do it, but sin that dwells within me. For I know that nothing good dwells within me, that is, in my flesh. I can will what is right, but I cannot do it. For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do. Now if I do what I do not want, it is no longer I that do it, but sin that dwells within me.
-- Romans 7:15-20
Paul's insight here is startling in its honesty and openness. How often do we do things that we know are wrong, but for all manner of justifiable reasons, we do them. Likewise, how often do we shy away from doing the right thing when it's staring us right in the face? I would say, for most of us, the answer is, daily, if not hourly.
It is into this stew of human brokenness that the Son of God came to extricate us from our plight. Tonight we both grieve the loss and honor the gift. Tonight we stand in muted awe trying to find words that are adequate, only to fail and slip into a prayerful and awe-filled silence. Tonight is the night we notice that there is a body on the cross, that someone has stepped in and paid the price so that you and I can begin again. Tonight we confess that this sacrifice made for us is at the core of who we are as a people.
For Christianity, this is where the rubber hits the road. It is at the apex of who we are and it grounds us in every thought, prayer, and action we take. The fundamental notion that our sins are forgiven and that we ourselves are called in turn to be forgiving is really the core value of our faith. Once again, Paul gets clear with us.
In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace that he lavished on us.
-- Ephesians 1:7-8
And being forgiven, we are called ourselves to forgiveness.
For if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you; but if you do not forgive others, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.
-- Matthew 6:14-15
On this "Good Friday," let us join our hearts in a prayer of muted and awe-filled thanksgiving at the sacrifice made in our behalf. Let us, in our prayers and our lives, become the people who are worthy of such a sacrifice. Amen.
On our altar is a representation of the instrument of execution that was used by the Romans to kill Jesus. We've lost much of the power of this symbol over time. There are a lot of reasons for this, not the least of which is the fact that we no longer execute people on crosses these days. A more contemporary expression of the cross might be an electric chair or a syringe. That way people would have a clearer grip on what it is that we are focusing on tonight.
As it is, we have our cross, and I offer no complaints or radical calls to change our symbol. What I am really seeking to point out is the fact that if we went into a Roman Catholic church tonight or any time, the cross would look different. Can anyone say why? Of course you can. A Roman Catholic cross is different because it displays the figure of the crucified Jesus hanging right there in front of you. Little imagination is required there. The message is clear. The Son of God was hung on a cross for you and for me. It's called a crucifix.
In our Protestant process we did away with the body on the cross because, I was told, we focus on the risen Christ, which I was also told, is really the point anyway.
So there you have it. Body or no body, it's still the cross, and now that I've brought all this up, I want to say that I'm going to choose to avoid this discussion in any meaningful way except to say that tonight, it's important that we think together about that body hanging from the cross. Tonight, the image of our Lord having made that sacrifice is something we really need to consider in prayer and in worship.
Tonight, let us imagine the sacrifice that was made for you and for me.
In our life of faith, we do not have what the scholars would call "a theology of the cross." That is, we don't spend a whole lot of time dwelling on the sacrifice that atoned for our sins and brought us the chance to participate in the new life we have in Christ. But, tonight is a good time to go there. Tonight, let us walk to the foot of the cross.
This graphic reading from the prophet Isaiah that we shared this evening is the template for what we call "atonement theology." It is at the core of how we understand that on this night, Jesus died for our sins. In this much, I concur with my Roman Catholic sisters and brothers in their placement of Jesus' body on the cross. We Protestants may wish to focus on the empty cross and the risen Christ, but without the crucifixion, none of this would be possible. Indeed, some of my Jesuit friends have accused us of skipping over the tough spot and heading right for the dessert bar.
The theology of atonement puts it pretty simply. God, in Christ Jesus, went to the cross to take on the sins of the world so that we might find salvation. We can see this thinking in Isaiah as he writes, "and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of all" (Isaiah 53:6). For most people this is a tough one to grasp, so let me put it another way.
Have you ever had someone take the fall for you? Maybe it was in school and you broke the window, but your friend accepted the blame rather than see you get in trouble. Or possibly it was someone who stood up for you and took punishment that would have come on you had this person not intervened. There are countless stories of self-sacrifice in time of tumult and war. I am reminded of the story of the father who stepped in front of his son so that he would go to the Nazi gas chambers in his son's place.
All of these stories reveal to some extent, what we claim in the crucifixion of Jesus Christ. What we accept, indeed, what we affirm with power tonight is the notion that it wasn't just one thing or one error or a couple of bad things, but the sins and brokenness of the whole world that Jesus took on himself. Think for a minute of the worst thing you've done. Multiply that times humanity and then you begin to get it.
Yes, I know, atonement is not popular in some circles these days. As a culture we don't much like the idea of sacrifice in any form, let alone a blood sacrifice. Moreover, we don't much like the idea of the idea that we are broken and sinful. In an "I'm okay you're okay" kind of world, any idea that challenges this is suspect. The undeniable truth, though, is that we're not okay. We somehow, as Paul writes so cogently, cannot manage to do the things we know are good and right, but instead we do the things that we know are wrong.
I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate. Now if I do what I do not want, I agree that the law is good. But in fact it is no longer I that do it, but sin that dwells within me. For I know that nothing good dwells within me, that is, in my flesh. I can will what is right, but I cannot do it. For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do. Now if I do what I do not want, it is no longer I that do it, but sin that dwells within me.
-- Romans 7:15-20
Paul's insight here is startling in its honesty and openness. How often do we do things that we know are wrong, but for all manner of justifiable reasons, we do them. Likewise, how often do we shy away from doing the right thing when it's staring us right in the face? I would say, for most of us, the answer is, daily, if not hourly.
It is into this stew of human brokenness that the Son of God came to extricate us from our plight. Tonight we both grieve the loss and honor the gift. Tonight we stand in muted awe trying to find words that are adequate, only to fail and slip into a prayerful and awe-filled silence. Tonight is the night we notice that there is a body on the cross, that someone has stepped in and paid the price so that you and I can begin again. Tonight we confess that this sacrifice made for us is at the core of who we are as a people.
For Christianity, this is where the rubber hits the road. It is at the apex of who we are and it grounds us in every thought, prayer, and action we take. The fundamental notion that our sins are forgiven and that we ourselves are called in turn to be forgiving is really the core value of our faith. Once again, Paul gets clear with us.
In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace that he lavished on us.
-- Ephesians 1:7-8
And being forgiven, we are called ourselves to forgiveness.
For if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you; but if you do not forgive others, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.
-- Matthew 6:14-15
On this "Good Friday," let us join our hearts in a prayer of muted and awe-filled thanksgiving at the sacrifice made in our behalf. Let us, in our prayers and our lives, become the people who are worthy of such a sacrifice. Amen.
