Monday, September 12, 2016

Sermon from Sunday, September 11, 2016

Reading:  1 Timothy 1:12-17 (Paul has been a faithful man all his adult life.  At first, his faith was narrow, rigid and violent.  But then he met Jesus and had to come to grips with Jesus' open, forgiving, healing, non-violent way as the way of God.  Given his experience of such a radical transformation in his faith, he is well suited to help the Christian church keep true to its calling.)

Sermon:  I thought I was doing the right thing
 
I’m thinking about an eight-word sentence that seems to stand in the background of the reading and shine through it: “I thought I was doing the right thing.”  Or, it might even be, “I thought I was doing what God wanted.”

It’s one of the ways Paul describes the way he lived out his faith in God before he really saw, heard and came to grips with Jesus. 

He was a zealot – a man of deep faith, committed to God, educated to know and defend God’s name, and ready to attack those who were enemies of God’s law for the world.

Today, I don’t think he would have been a suicide bomber.  But he would have been a commander of a religiously-inspired militia with orders to search and destroy, engaged in one of the “holy wars” that trouble us.  In the right circumstances he would have been a fundamentalist sniper or bomber.  He used violence against others -- even lethal violence in the name of God, and he says quite honestly, “I thought I was doing what God wanted.  I thought I was doing the right thing.”

There are different ways, of course, that this can be said – with different emphasis and meaning, and for different purposes.

It can be a statement of self-defence – a way of excusing or even justifying what one has done and the kind of activity one was involved in. 

“I was just following orders,” is a defence we associate with the Nuremberg trials of Nazi officers and soldiers after the Holocaust of the Second Great War.  Good soldiers, they were following the orders of their superiors; good Germans of the time, they were serving the will of the god they were taught to believe in.

Like suicide bombers today blowing up infidels to begin a holy war.  Like Klansmen a few generations ago lynching people who were muddying the pool of God’s chosen people.  Like religious people who cause of the kind of god they believe in, pray for gays and lesbians to contract AIDS.  Or maybe like us a generation or two from now, when our culture’s consumerist lifestyle further degrades the Earth.  Will we say, “We honestly thought God wanted us just to enjoy all this stuff”?

That’s twelve words.  But it amounts to the same thing in the end.  “I thought I was doing the right thing.  I was doing what the god -- or the gods, of my time wanted.”  It’s an attempt to defend what is increasingly indefensible in the face of mounting evidence to the contrary. 

Which can lead to a second way – a second spirit in which this statement can be offered – a spirit of shame for what one has done, when the reality of it really sinks in, and one can only be bewildered at how thoroughly everything is changed.

I wonder if this is the way Paul felt these words – “I thought I was doing what God wanted” – in those first few days and maybe even weeks and months after his experience of Jesus as the Word of God on the way to Damascus.  He was arresting, killing and terrorizing people in the name of God – treating them as less than full brothers and sisters because they believed in and understood God differently than he did.  And after he came to see and know Jesus as the Word of God, and the way of Jesus as the way of God, how could he not be deeply ashamed, wracked with guilt, aware only of his own deep error?

“I used to speak against him, attack his people, and I was proud.  I’m the biggest sinner of all,” he says in the opening sentences of the letter to Timothy.  Echoes of shame persist even years later.

I wouldn’t be surprised if all of us can identify with this – if at some point in our life, maybe more than once, maybe even continually in some way, each one of us feels or has felt this kind of shame for something we did, some activity we were involved in, some way we were or are.  “I was just doing what I knew how to do, doing what I had learned, doing what everyone else was doing … and I’m so ashamed when I look at it now.”

I wonder if this is also where we are at this point in time in relation to what we’re learning through the Truth and Reconciliation Commission about the residential schools, our historical treatment of the First Nations, and the racism deeply rooted in Canadian society.  It’s understandable that we feel shame, and the problem is that shame is paralyzing.  It immobilizes the soul.  Often it leads to denial as the only way out we can imagine.  If we can only deny that it was really that bad – or is that bad, we don’t need to feel so ashamed.

Thank goodness there’s another way, though – a third way of speaking that honest statement, “I thought I was doing the right thing; I thought I was doing what God wanted.” 

It’s the way of grace – of experiencing and knowing God’s grace, and of gratitude – of honestly confessing how limited our first experience of God was, and being truly grateful for the grace of being able to grow in our knowledge and understanding of God.

This is what happened to Paul, and what enabled him to be the leader that he was for the church of his time.  He began as we all do, with a true but limited knowledge and experience of God and God’s good will – a limited experience of God that he made so absolute that he felt justified in dismissing, demonizing and attacking people who didn’t believe and live as he did.  But along the way – on the road to Damascus and for three years in the desert in prayerful and probably guided retreat, he came to see God in new ways, came to grips with the radicality of Jesus as the Word of God in real life, and grew beyond what he had known and been.  And he knew deep down it was a loving and patiently nurturing God who helped him do this.

The challenge for us – as it was for the churches for which 1 Timothy was first written, is to be open in that same way to God and to the way of God in our own life and in the world today.

How many times do we find ourselves saying, “I thought I was doing the right thing” in a defensive spirit.  

How many times in shame, feeling immobilized and paralyzed by guilt and regret?

And are there situations today – either individually or as a church, where we find ourselves saying, “I thought I was doing what God wanted,” or “We thought we were doing what God wanted” in a spirit of honest and humble gratitude for the ways in which God is patiently helping us to grow in our understanding and knowledge of what is right?

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