The Park Road Pulpit

If the meaning of Jesus is that God has become human, entered the human mess, to me that means God became flawed like me, engaged history’s complex of good and evil as a sure enough participant. It means God expects sin to be part of the human mix. It means God knows all about sin as an aspect of existence and doesn’t hate us for it. It means God isn’t afraid to have dirty hands.

Jesus as I read him was engaged in the very ambiguities, conflicts of motive, failures of imagination and chaos of consequences that I am. This is the Jesus I need to know. What did he do enmeshed in sin as I am? What liberation from the overwhelming tide of sin did he find?[1]

As I was planning this sermon series, my mind lit on this idea of following Jesus’ own path of discipleship by trying to hear these texts of scripture as he heard them. That driving preacher-need to find some connection between the texts, to give some order and structure to a sequence of messages, gave way to a cleverly alliterative strategy… “Jesus as Sojourner”… “Jesus as Singer”… “Jesus as Seeker”… The first three “S’s” fell right into place. And then I read today’s text, “Happy are those whose transgression is forgiven, whose ssssin is covered…”

As you now know, by the outline of our series, when it came down to it, I couldn’t say it. I ssstruggled for another “S,” but finally dejectedly threw out my alliteration and ssstarted over… but, I went home that night conflicted. You see, I just can’t call Jesus a sinner. It goes against every bone in my Baptist-bred-body. Whatever else we may say, it is clear to me that Jesus’ life was categorically different from most (if not all), lives ever lived. Why else is he so remembered? Why else does he still so inspire?

On the other hand, I have been cursed with a faith that will not let me rest! I am obsessed (maybe possessed?) with a life of asking questions -- which I know have no answers! Maybe most importantly, I am committed as your pastor to bringing to you my own, honest questions and struggles, in sermons that must be heard as invitations to dialogue, not as diatribes of self-proclaimed truth. And Amy and I have inherited this graciously “Open Pulpit,” which allows us the unique freedom to explore, with you, issues and theological ideas that are beyond the allowable scope of most of our colleagues. So, I come to you today with more consternation than I have experienced in some time. And with no absolute truth to offer. Only an invitation to dialogue.

Such an invitation I offered by phone to my dear friend, Dr. William E. Hull, in Birmingham. Two weeks ago, after the obligatory chit-chat, I put my question to him. As I expected, even after an hour-long conversation, several days later I received a lengthy correspondence, which Bill had dictated to his secretary. Here is one of his paragraphs:

I do not think you will get very far with your “Was Jesus a Sinner?” idea. The biblical records are silent or obscure at best on this subject. Theologians over the century have not been helpful, arguing mainly over whether Jesus could have sinned rather than about whether he in fact did sin. I know that you want to establish the possibility of a closer identification between our humanity and his humanity, but even his closest disciples knew that there was an ultimate difference between them and him (whether they viewed the difference as metaphysical or not.[2])

In our conversation, Bill asked me, “Have you found any text that makes reference to Jesus as Sinner?” Of course, I have not, and, if there were one (even a nuanced suggestion in some second-hand Greek manuscript obscured through translation), I can assure you that Bill Hull of Birmingham would know it! So, for those whose preaching is dependent on a strictly biblical, exposition of a text, the case is closed.

But I told you that my faith will not rest, so even in Bill’s letter, I was asking questions: “Why are the biblical records silent or obscure at best?” And why (for God’s sake and ours) have “theologians over the century… argued mainly over whether Jesus could have sinned rather than about whether he in fact did sin”? Bill is absolutely right: this is not helpful, at least not to this pastor. (Incidentally, the book I reference in today’s “Meditation of Commitment” in the bulletin is by a scholar at Auburn Theological Seminary who is dealing with my questions! Finally!) Though I am admittedly un-orthodox in many of my ideas, I am a deeply sincere follower, whose life in faith is defined by Bill’s words, seeking “to establish the possibility of a closer identification between our humanity and [Jesus own] humanity.” How else can his incarnation[3] make any real difference to us?

How can his humanity make any difference to ours if we have not asked the “metaphysical” question? Was Jesus really “like us in every way”[4] as scripture maintains – and what does that mean when we attach the affirmation of faith, as does the writer of Hebrews, “like us in every way… yet without sin”?

I am sailing in relatively uncharted waters, here, folks. And Bill is right that this is more a “rhetorical exercise,” than a scriptural exposition. But as I read today’s Psalm, I simply could not envision Jesus hearing this text utterly removed from its human impact. Happy are those (as if to say, everyone else) whose transgression is forgiven… So the Bible doesn’t speak of it, specifically… So centuries of theologians have been neglectfully silent… Can we really imagine Jesus, the devoted Jesus, of whom we spoke last week, Jesus the disciple, who so hungered and thirsted for God (Matthew 5.6) that he willingly gave his innocent life in that pursuit, can we really imagine him reading this Psalm detached from its deepest passion?

Some may question the legitimacy of this entire sermon series, my suggestion that we try to hear and read as Jesus did, but if we continue to take seriously the biblical claim that Jesus grew … in favor with God (Luke 2.52). I simply cannot hear him as a child, a youth, a young man, before beginning his ministry at the Jordan, hearing the Psalm and translating in his own head: “Happy are those whose transgression [I will forgive]… whose sin [my own death will cover]… Happy are those to whom [I will impute no iniquity]…”

Was there never a time that the growing Jesus read those words, and as a deeply religious individual, approached God – fully in touch with his true humanity -- with a heavy heart and in need of a whisper of grace?

I believe that to be able, willing to voice such need is to be aware of our humanity (the reason we practice a “Confession” in our worship service).

I believe that to learn to accept ourselves, within the context of our human need, is to know God (the reason we always speak an “Assurance of Pardon”).

In other words, the only way to know God is to accept our humanity by Receiving Grace. To be fully human is not to be removed from the human condition, it is to transcend the human condition by living so fully immersed in who we are and so fully immersed in a Grace of Receiving that the human condition itself no longer becomes a limiting condition.[5]

I believe that Jesus was just that fully human. So fully, that the conditions of his humanity no longer limited the reach of his life. As a Christian, a devoted follower, I can claim that he is the only human to ever so live.[6]

The writer of the Gospel of John brings together two oral traditions when he records Jesus’ anointing at Bethany.[7] In one tradition, found in Mark’s gospel, an un-named woman anoints Jesus’ head with an expensive oil. In another, told by Luke, an un-named woman washes Jesus’ feet with her tears. John’s highly theological setting brings together these two traditions in a masterfully literary foreshadowing of Jesus’ death. John alone names the woman, Mary of Bethany, and he pictures her symbolically preparing Jesus’ body for the tomb. A second theme that John emphasizes here is the modeling of discipleship. Before Jesus has taught his own disciples this striking lesson, Mary will wash his feet. John’s telling is beautifully constructed, a narrative with important theological significance for all who have ears to hear.[8]

I chose this story for today’s sermon, though, not because of this legitimate and meaningful interpretation. John’s setting elevates Jesus far above his disciples, and in so doing, further separates them, and us, from his humanity. I chose this story, though the traditional interpretation obscures the view, because I believe in this powerful event, we might glimpse the human Jesus, and see him as a Receiver of Grace.

I think she was a beautiful woman, with long, dark, sensuous hair. I imagine that dramatic moment between the two of them as filled with the tension-and-excitement of every emotion that can be conveyed between two human beings: Love and Ambiguity. Celebration and Expectation, Knowledge and Desire. Certainty and Doubt. Was this woman Mary of Bethany, or an anonymous disciple? Was it her tears, or an expensive perfume? Did she pour it onto his head, or cry them onto his feet? I don’t believe any of those questions really matter. I believe that at the heart of this event in the life of Jesus, if we care to strip away all of the theological symbolism, is an act of genuine caring, of gracious giving -- from one human being to another.

Behind it all, I believe, was one who stood in need. Jesus. Being hassled by demanding crowds, being misunderstood even by his own best friends, being hounded by the tensions, which were building between himself and the Jewish authorities, I can imagine a Jesus who was at that moment, simply tired of giving. And this woman, I believe, saw this need. Call it feminine intuition, call it maternal instinct, call it human compassion, I see her display as a lavish act of simple love. Maybe his response has been covered over by a developing church that needed a powerful, self-sufficient, never-needing Savior. But I can hear him, behind the tradition, saying simply, “Leave her alone. She bought this for me. Thank you.”

… never doubt for a second (says Pat Jobe) that we have been saved; and that this is a deeply personal and liberating salvation. Like a child pulled from a hole in the ice, like a rescue from a burning building, like an almost-bobbled play in baseball, like an account saved from a competitor, we are saved.

Even though there is always danger of wasting what has been freely given, the reckless indulgence of a spoiled child, the salvation is absolute, nonnegotiable. It is a light at the end of every tunnel, comfort at the end of the longest nights, even in the midst of the longest nights, it is complete, unconditional, thorough, soaking to the bone, filling bellies, wetting throats, curing diseases, bringing peace.[9]

“Amazing Grace… how sweet the sound!” I believe that Jesus knew it, that Jesus, better than anyone who has ever lived, knew the sound of Grace Happening. It is why he lived so uniquely. Why he can so uniquely offers that Grace and Peace and Healing and Forgiveness to us today.

The Greek word for “forgiveness” is translated in a number of ways. Listen to them, and as you hear them, think about Jesus’ life. Forgiveness means: cancellation (of sins), release (of prisoners). Forgiveness means: to allow, to let be, to tolerate. Forgiveness means: to leave, to leave behind, to forsake, to neglect, to let go… In Matthew’s Gospel, we are told that “Jesus cried again with a loud voice and [forgave his spirit].[10] Do you hear it?

Forgiveness is the first-born child of God’s freedom. And no one has ever been so free as Jesus was free!

Walter Wink, who calls Jesus simply “The Human Being,” speaks of his life, a life lived among the sinners, a life which was regarded by the church of his day (the Jewish establishment) as “sinful,” in this way:

“The Human Being “comes” among them as an archetypal mutation, as an eruption of joie de vivre (the joy of the life) from the center of a celebratory universe, and all are invited.”[11]

[1] From a sermon entitled, “Born in Sin,” by George Williamson, the pastor of the First Baptist Church of Granville, Ohio.

[2] Metaphysical is defined as: dealing with the nature of existence and of truth and knowledge.

[3] I believe that the Christian doctrine of The Incarnation is the central tenet of Christian faith, that “in Christ God was reconciling the world” (2 Corinthians 5.19). And yet, I have come to feel that a Christology that places Christ so far removed “above us,” renders his “incarnation” virtually meaningless to us. If Jesus was, to borrow Walter Wink’s words, just “the omnipotent God in a man-suit” (The Human Being, p.11), what has he to do with me, a human being?

[4] I have misquoted my scripture here, perhaps to a misrepresentation of the message. My NRSV translates, “”but we have one (high priest) who in every respect has been tested as we are, yet without sin” (Hebrew 4.15), opening to the more traditional understanding that his unique nature rendered him open to our temptations, yet still not like us (at least, not in every way). At risk of criticism, however, I prefer my mis-quotation, thinking of him, whom centuries of theologians have called “fully human,” “like us in every way.”

[5] This is the essence of my argument, that traditional Christologies posit Christ as essentially “super-human,” i.e. above the real ambiguities and tensions of human life in its truest “predicament” (which we generally refer to as “sin”), thus essentially denying the essence of his “full humanity” from the outset. I am trying to argue for a “fully human” Jesus (in its full implications, threatening to a traditional understanding), yet to maintain a uniqueness of character (but not of “nature”). Because of the way he lived, and because the Church came to recognize God in him, he came to be regarded as “sinless.” This affirmation is surely a retrospective statement of faith. How could he, in whom God was “reconciling the world,” be regarded as “sinful”?

[6] In his book, When Religion Becomes Evil, Dr. Charles Kimball refers to the claims of the Christian faith (such as John’s affirmation that Jesus is “The way, The truth, The life…”) as employing a language of devotion and love, and not as exclusive claims to Absolute Truth.

[7] See “John,” in the New Interpreter’s Bible.

[8] Jesus frequently added this statement to his teachings. See, for example, Mark 4.9. By using his statement, I am hinting at the fact that perhaps all scripture is laden with multiple layers of meaning, if we can hear.

[9] Pat Jobe is a retired minister who lives in the mountains of North Carolina. This came to me in an e-mail from our mutual friend, Charlie Milford.

[10] Matthew 27.50, NRSV, “and breathed his last.” My translation is a very wooden translation of the Greek, but shows that the root word employed here (apheken) is derived from the root “to forgive” (aphes).

[11] Wink, The Human Being: Jesus and the Enigma of the Son of the Man, p.89.

[12] From the speech by Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. “Free at last, free at last. Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!”