The Park Road Pulpit

    Sermons from Park Road Baptist Church

      Russ and Amy Jacks Dean, Pastors

 

“Things That Are Above: A Down-to-Earth Theology”

Colossians 3.1-11

Russ Dean

 

He was called St. Alypius. He lived in the sixth century in Paphligonia, a territory now occupied by the modern state of Turkey. His country must have been beautiful. It was a mountainous region that ran along the coast. And what a view he must have enjoyed, from the top of that stone pillar which was his home. I can imagine that as he stood there, he was the first each day to view the sparkle of sunrise on the waters of the Black Sea. That when it stormed, his eyes were the first to detect the formation of clouds on the horizon. From there he could see every white-capped step as the storm marched across those waters. No doubt, from atop his stone perch, the view of sunset was spectacular.

But, I did say that St. Alypius lived on the top of this pillar, so maybe he wasn’t as interested in the site-seeing as you and I might be if we traveled to Turkey! St. Alypius, you see, was known as a Stylite. That is, he was a monk whose life had been dedicated to the extreme ascetic practice of living on a pillar. (I’m not making this up!) The “Pillar Saints,” as they are called, were founded in the fifth century by St. Simeon, who lived in the area of Syria and Palestine. St. Simeon apparently developed this practice in a monastic “one-up-manship” which resulted in increasingly rigorous forms of self-mortification by those who had given their lives to the Monastery.  For nearly 1,000 years, Stylites practiced their strange existence, throughout the lands of the East.

It is said that St. Alypius stood for 53 years on his pillar before his condition deteriorated. (Maybe he suffered from fallen arches!) Tradition has it that he spent the remaining fourteen years of his life reclining on his side, yet still on his post. (“Stylites (Pillar Saints),” by Herbert Thurston. The Catholic Encyclopedia, Volume XIV, Online Edition Copyright © 1999 by Kevin Knight.  www.newadvent.org/cathen/14317b.htm.)

            Monastic history is replete with examples, as strange as that of St. Alypius, of men and women who gave their lives to the denial of the body and its comfort, in order to “set [their] minds on things that [were] above” (Col.. 3.2). I don’t know about you, but I don’t think I want to see the things that are “above” quite that badly!

 

            The Apostle Paul, or perhaps one of his disciples, wrote to the young church at Colossae, in part, to oppose a “philosophy” which had made its way into that congregation (Col. 2.8). This philosophy advocated a certain dedication to the “elemental spirits” (Col 2.8) as well as to numerous ascetic practices (Col. 2.18, 21-23).

The word “asceticism” derives from the Greek, “askesis,” which refers to athletic training. Athletes train by means of certain exercises, but the training itself is not the goal. In the same way, “ascetical practices were intended to serve watchfulness, to clear away distractions” (Michael Birkel, Earlham College, www.earlham.edu/~birkemi/ birkel_2.html, emphases added). Extreme examples of ascetic practice indicate that some have taken their practice a bit too far. The means has become the end. The true goal has been lost for the sake of keeping the discipline.

In his letter, the writer warns against such practices: “Do not let anyone disqualify you, insisting on self-abasement and worship of angels, dwelling on visions, puffed up without cause by a human way of thinking…” (Col. 2.18). Instead, the writers insists, “Set your mind on things that are above…” (Col. 3.1).

            In the cosmology (world view) of this philosophy, there was a clean distinction between the world “above” and the world “below.” Like many dualistic philosophies, this kind of religious thinking ordered its adherents to deny the body, to put aside everything of this world, to transcend this world by gaining a knowledge or vision of the world of the spirit. This dualism is as old as Plato and as current as many New Age philosophies, alive in our culture today. Along the way the “Gnosticism” of the first century[1], the “Transcendentalism” of Emerson and Thoreau, and the “Transcendental Meditation” of recent decades have emphasized the separation of the worlds of body and spirit, mind and matter, heaven and earth. And on a cursory reading, the advice to the Colossians might sound like an echo of this same school of thought, “Set your mind on things that are above, not on things that are on earth…” (Col. 3.2).

 

            But the New Testament makes clear its thorough opposition to dualism. The letter to the Colossians offers one of the strongest affirmations of the Lordship of Christ in all of the scripture (The Oxford Annotated Bible, NRSV, p.285.), yet it affirms as an integral part of his Lordship that he is the “firstborn of all creation” (Col. 1.15). In Christ, “God was pleased to reconcile… all things, whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace through the blood of his cross” (Col. 1.20). The New Testament makes it clear that Jesus did not just “seem human,” but that his work of redemption and reconciliation is relevant precisely because he was fully human. (The heresy of “Docetism,” from the Greek verb  “to seem,” was rejected by the early Church. The Docetists taught that Jesus was really a “spiritual being” – he just “seemed human” -- but was not really human at all.) The blood of his cross identifies his full humanity because it makes explicit his death (spiritual beings do not bleed or die). In addition, it stresses the very earthly reach of God’s work of redemption. God works in and through the very earthly, very human experiences of pain and death. Both of these affirmations would have been whole-heartedly rejected by a dualistic philosophy.

 

            Well, our cosmology has changed. We no longer view the world as a three tiered universe: with heaven “above,” hell “below,” and earth caught in between. The ever-expanding limits of the living universe and the microscopic discoveries of “inner space” evidence a world that is far more complex than the physical world envisioned by the pre-scientific Colossians. Yet I wonder if our theology has changed much?

            The “up” and “down” of heaven and hell are still very much a part of the Church’s language, aren’t they? Do you still think of God as “up there”? Jesus instructed his disciples that the “Kingdom of God” was not to be found out there somewhere but “in your midst (among you, even within you)” (Luke 17.20-21). But we often still act as if we are alone in the universe. We pray for God to “intervene” as if God were the one perched on some Heavenly pillar…. “Come from your world, into ours, and do something!”

When we pray in such a way, we reveal a misunderstanding of, or a deep mistrust in two of our central tenets of faith. 1) The Incarnation reveals Jesus Christ as Emanuel, “God With Us.” 2) Pentecost makes it clear that though Jesus is no longer in our presence, the Spirit of God will never be farther than a breath away. What do we really believe? Is God with us? Or not?

 

            In the final analysis, it doesn’t really matter whether we stand on a pillar in order to “set our minds on things that are above,” or whether we refuse to remove God from such a heavenly height. In either case the disappointing outcome will be the same -- we will miss God in this “land of the living” (Psalm 27.13). And in real, earthly, practical, existential terms, it is only here that we can meet God. “The earth is the Lord’s and all that is in it” (Psalm 24.1).

 

In writing to the Colossians, this heaven-to-earth gap is bridged in two ways. The writer begins this section in the indicative mood. His language reflects the affirmation that our death and resurrection with Christ has already been accomplished. Whatever chasm is envisioned between our life and Christ’s life has been bridged by our baptism. We have died. And we have been raised in Christ’s resurrection, even now. This is what Paul means, elsewhere, when he says we are “in Christ.” Heaven has been brought to earth.

But the writer moves on to a second emphasis, this one in the imperative. “How do we ‘set our minds on things above’?” By living on a pillar? By practicing some un-earthly form of silence or solitude or celibacy? No.[2] The way to “set your mind on the things that are above,” is to have your feet well-grounded in the dust of the earth. By being fully human. By living in the here and now. By experiencing the fullness of life and relationship that God desires for all humanity.

When we rid ourselves of “sexual immorality,” for example, we don’t become less human, or experience less of the “good life.” Quite the opposite. A life of appropriate sexuality is not a life free from pleasure, but a life that has been freed to know the fullness of sexuality, because it is experienced through mutual love, commitment, self-giving. A life free from “greed” does not become an impoverished existence, but a humanity which is grounded in the rich soil of good living. Greed is selfish and isolating. Real life comes through dynamic relationships. Through sharing, fellowship, exchange.

The entire list of ethical imperatives (“rid yourselves of: anger, rage, malice, slander, filthy language, impurity, lust, evil desires…”) is given as a means of making us, precisely, more earthly, more human, and not less. And by becoming fully human we come to know the life that Jesus lived. The life God seeks to live in each of us.

 

            I love to observe the way popular wisdom and religious wisdom get all mixed up. We can’t keep “what the Bible says” and what “they say” separate. How many times have I been asked something like, “Where in the Bible does it say, ‘A penny saved is a penny earned’? I know it’s in there!”

Heaven, I believe, is one of those frequently mis-understood concepts. What does the Bible say about our life with God after this one? That we will sit “up there” on clouds, playing our harps for the next million years. Hardly. In that beautiful new world pictured in John’s Revelation, the new Jerusalem itself descends from “heaven” to a new earth, where God will live in the midst of the people (cf. Revelation 21-22). It’s life in the big city, forever!

            If heaven does, in fact, look a lot like earth, maybe God is trying to tell us that life here is not all that different from life there. So come down from your Pillars, put your feet on the ground. No God has ever been so down-to-earth!

            From dust we have come. From dust we shall return. Blessed be the name of the Lord! Amen!

Pastoral Prayer

O God of Heaven and Earth

   Whose home is within the heart

    of each who loves you

      make us aware this day of worship

      of the very nearness of your presence

 

O God of every human heart,

   our words teach us

   that you are “high and lifted up”

      and we shudder in insecurity

   that “your ways are not our ways”

      and we cower in fear

   that “your thoughts are not our thoughts”

      and we withdraw from an already distant God

 

Forgive us when we misunderstand

Our own words about you.

 

For we are also taught through Christ,

That you have drawn near:

   You know our flesh

   You know our fears

   You know our failures

 

O God of Heaven and Earth,

   Open our eyes to your constant

   work within us

      That we might know the ways

   That you are still “incarnate” in this world

      In our own gifts and thoughts

      and experiences.

 

   Open our eyes to your constant

   work around us,

      That we might see you in but one world,

      And know that your presence makes

         The mundane miraculous,

      That your grace makes

         The secular sacred,

      That your love makes

         The ordinary, extraordinary indeed!

 

   Open our eyes to your constant

   work among us

      That we might see you

         In each other.

 

O God of Heaven and Earth,

   Make us human, that we might live

      As Christ lived.

 

And in him,

   Make us divine light,

      that we might love as you love.

 

Set our minds on things that are “above,”

That we might know you, even now.

 

Amen.