September 25, 2011 – “Living the Contradiction”
Phil Blackwell
“Living the Contradiction”
Philippians 2:1-13
I still remember his last name, McWilliams. Back in my university days I was walking along the sidewalk from class back to my room when someone came up to me and asked, “Are you a Christian?”
I thought that was a rather strange question out-of-the-blue, and I said, “Yes, I grew up in the church.”
“But is your soul really saved by our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ?”
“I believe so,” I said, but apparently too tentatively. His response was, “If you really want to be sure, all you have to do is say this prayer with me, the Jesus Prayer,” and he opened a notebook with a brief prayer written on a page. “That is all there is to it.”
And I thought, though I might have been too intimidated to say, “Is that all there is to it, just to say the right words?” He did not say, “Repeat these words and then go and sell all that you have and give it to the poor and follow Jesus.” He did not say that he would meet me on Saturday morning so that we could go and tutor some school kids on the east side. He did not offer to pick me up and drive me to the mental hospital on the other side of the lake where we might at least be friends for a couple of hours with patients living there. It was just, “Say these words and everything will be perfect.”
You know, I do not remember if I said those words, or not. I must not have because I remember that our encounter ended when he shut his notebook, called me a “submarine Christian” for not being obvious enough, and walked away. But I clearly have remembered the offense of being told what to say, not what to do, to be a Christian.
Paul writes to the Christians in Philippi to tell them what to do. “Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others better than yourselves. Let each of you look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others. Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus.”
Then Paul continues with his thinking behind his instruction, “Christ Jesus, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death – even death on a cross.”
Here Paul sets up a paradox. What a contradiction in terms is “Jesus the Christ.” How can “Jesus,” the man, fully human, be entirely and at the same time “Christ,” God present in our midst, fully divine? This affirmation is at the heart of the Christian faith, yet it is the most challenging of all the things that we say we believe.
Was Jesus really human, or was he just God masquerading as one of us? That always has been a point of contention in the Church for those who have such an elevated view of the Christ that they cannot imagine him snoring, having indigestion, and doing all the things humans do.
But Paul says, “No, this was not an elaborate cosmic charade. The proof of his humanity is found in his humility, his lowliness, his servanthood, and his real, painful, embarrassing death as a common criminal. No ‘pretending to be one of us’ here.”
But then, for those convinced of Jesus’ humanity but unimaginative about his divinity, Paul continues his hymn of glory, “Therefore God also highly exalted him and gave him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.”
“Do not try to domesticate this Jesus,” warns Paul, “for he is the Christ, the Messiah, who is not simply God’s son in a derivative sense, a ‘chip off the old block,’ ‘God, Jr.,’ but God in a fully divine sense.”
Jesus the Christ . . . a contradiction in terms, a paradox.
As I said, this always has been a point of contention in the Church. Read the creeds over the centuries. The argument had become so strenuous after 300 years that the Council of Nicea came up with this torturous formulation: “We believe in one Lord, Jesus Christ, the only Son of God, eternally begotten of the Father, God from God, Light form Light, true God from true God, begotten, not made, of one Being with the Father, through him all things were made.” The effort it takes to hold “Jesus” and “Christ” together!
For most of the 2000 years of Christian history, I suspect that the challenging question to most believers was, “Was Christ truly human?” The idea of divinity made sense, but the notion of humanity was a bit too crude. In our modern time I judge that the reverse is true: Christians have little trouble accepting that there was such a man, named Jesus, who lived in a specific place at a specific time and was an admirably good man, maybe the best person who ever lived on earth. But more than that, truly divine? God in the flesh in our midst? That is a bit of a stretch.
Truly human and truly divine . . . that is a theological claim, not a biological one. “With what kind of body will the risen Christ come and how will we look when we are raised from the dead?” the Corinthians ask Paul. And he discounts the question as irrelevant. “God will give us a body as God chooses.” This is not a question of DNA but of how we think about life, having the “same mind in you that was in Christ Jesus.” That is what Paul tells the Philippians to do.
What does that mean? Well, Paul stresses humility. “Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves.” Is there anything more contradictory to our current American view of life than that?
We can fill sports arenas with people who will pay big bucks to hear a series of motivational speakers drone on about how to succeed in life, and I suspect that not one of the presenters dwells on how essential humility is in amassing more money and arresting more power. We can fill churches, some of which used to be sports arenas, to hear the gospel of self-promotion, and seldom is heard a self-emptying word about taking on the form of a servant. Paul wants us to be truly human as Jesus was truly human, fully engaged in life through humility . . . putting others’ interests before our own, tending to the needs of the least among us, even advocating for others to the point of self-sacrifice. Being crucified, being the victim of the death penalty enacted by the state against an innocent person, is nothing new.
Have the mind of Jesus the fully human one, and have the mind of the risen Christ, the fully divine one. That may be a stretch for us, but then, the very purpose of our narrative about the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ is to portray for us what is on God’s mind, what is God’s will. People will say, “I would do God’s will if only I knew what it is.” But we know, and here is where the convergence of the human and the divine takes root. Jesus in his lifetime revealed to us God’s will for our lives . . .we are to embrace each day by telling the truth, seeking justice, offering mercy, doing what is right, acting in love, and always seeing the beauty of the world around us.
Truth, justice, mercy, righteousness, love, and beauty . . . on that the mind of the risen Christ concentrates. “Let the same mind be in you,” Paul urges the Philippians.
So far this has been a dissertation on belief. How do we understand the contradiction between Jesus the truly human and the Christ the truly divine? And I think that we can confess, “Uneasily.” Instead of settling arguments, paradoxes often unsettle us. And so, “Jesus the Christ” always is a notion that tests our sense of balance. But Paul goes on to encourage the congregation in Philippi, “Therefore, my beloved . . . work out your own salvation with fear and trembling; for it is God who is at work in you, enabling you both to will and to work for his good pleasure.”
Put into action what you believe. If you believe that Jesus is the Christ who, in all humility, showed us how to live an exalted life, then do not just tell me about it; do it. That is the very simple reading of the parable from the Gospel of Matthew that is paired with Philippians in the lectionary, the three-year cycle of readings for public worship.
“A man had two sons,” says Jesus, “and he asked the first son to work in the vineyard. The son said, ‘No,’ but eventually changed his mind and did the work. The father also asked the second son to go to the vineyard to do some work. He answered, ‘Yes,’ but did not go. “Who did the will of his father?” Jesus asks. And they give the obvious answer, “The first son.”
A simple little story except for the fact that Jesus was telling it to a group of “second sons.” Here are the chief priests and elders of the temple surrounding him and baiting him with leading questions about authority, trying to catch him saying something heretical. Instead, he tells those who say all the right things, who get all of the creeds right and the theology straight, but who do nothing, that they are going to the end of the line. Not that they are being kicked out of the line, but they have to stand at the back behind the tax collectors and prostitutes to get into heaven.
This parable leads to Jesus’ crucifixion. Being humble does not mean that you have to be weak.
So, back to Paul and working out our own salvation in fear and trembling. Paul is not implying that our salvation is a result of our own doing and we had better get busy. He is consistent, and most of Christian history has agreed, that salvation comes from God as a gift to us. We do not save ourselves. That is the point of the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. But in good Wesleyan fashion, we must accept the gift. We need to do something in response in order to complete the transaction.
And what is it that we must do? Say the right words? Get the creeds down pat? William Sloan Coffin, Jr.’s, reminder comes in handy: the creeds of the Church are mileposts, not hitching posts. They show us the way we have come, not where we must stay.
No, do not be the second son who says the right thing but does none of the work. At the very least, be the first son who wavers in his declaration but gets to work in the vineyard. Barbara Brown Taylor, one of the premier preachers of our own day, quotes Søren Kierkegaard on this point: “Jesus wants followers, not admirers.” She continues in her own commentary on the parable of the two sons, “Whether we say yes or no to God is apparently less important to God than what we actually do.” Can you tell which brother you are? she asks. “Look in any mirror. What is moving? Your mouth or your feet?”
When some of our music people gather here after work on November 2nd with many others to present “Urban Dolorosa,” a choral and dramatic lament over the violent deaths of children in our city, they will be telling the truth.
When we in our congregation follow the lead of the Reconciling Congregations Task Force to consider our denomination’s legislation concerning issues of sexual identity, we will be seeking justice.
When people feed the hungry on Saturday mornings they are offering mercy.
When we engage with people who have severely handicapping conditions, as we did last week with Project Renewal, we are doing what is right.
When we tutor children after school in their reading skills, we are acting in love.
When we accept an invitation from our brothers and sisters at the Gorham United Methodist Church at 56th and Indiana on the south side to share in ministry, we are seeing the beauty of the world around us.
God’s will revealed through the paradox that is Jesus the Christ; telling the truth, seeking justice, offering mercy, doing what is right, acting in love, seeing the beauty of the world around us. We embrace God’s will not just by saying it, but primarily by doing it. Living the contradiction . . . with fear and trembling. Not “fear” in the sense of being afraid, not “trembling” in the sense of being scared to death. But with a sense of awe, of wonder . . . of humility.
Living the contradiction; Jesus did it. “Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus.” Amen.