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Foundry is an historic, progressive United Methodist Church that welcomes all, worships passionately, challenges the status quo, & seeks to transform the world.
Episodes
Sunday Oct 11, 2015
Sunday Oct 11, 2015
A sermon preached by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli at Foundry UMC, October 11, 2015, the twentieth Sunday after Pentecost.
Texts: 1 Peter 2:4-5, Mark 10:17-31
Have you ever felt used? It is a crummy feeling to be treated as a pawn or stepping stone in someone’s plan, as an unwilling object used for another’s benefit or pleasure. It is dehumanizing and painful. No one wants to be used in that way. But there is another way to think about being used. The text from 1 Peter is an invitation to let our lives be like “living stones” that are built into a “spiritual house.” God wants to use us in this divine building project that is always under construction. God wants to use our lives to help build the worldwide household of love, mercy, justice, and peace that is the Kin-dom. God wants to use us, not in a dehumanizing way, but in a way that makes us partners (some call it being co-creators) with God, in a way that helps us become more human, more ourselves, more whole. And, God knows, that humanizing effect happens as we love, as we serve, as we give.
Over the years, I have heard so many folks—of every age and stage of life—talk about how they want to find meaning and purpose in their lives. “Why am I here?”—that’s the big question. And our faith can be a primary resource in discerning an answer. I think many, if not most, of us would like to believe that if God communicated to us clearly and directly an answer and direction, we would go!—or if God let us know how our lives could be used for the greater good, we’d do it, even if it was difficult.
And this week, we encounter a wealthy man who gets what is so rare for most of us: a clear and unambiguous message and direction. The man asks, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?” And Jesus—out of love (vs.21)—tells him. And then the man turns away…not full of joy and purpose…but with grief.
Here we have someone who knows the way to go, who is told what to do, who is invited to follow Jesus with specific directions—no ambiguity or guessing games here—and he turns away grieving. Why? Perhaps because the direction that Jesus gave him wasn’t something he wanted to hear. Or maybe because what Jesus asked of him was something he didn’t feel capable of doing. I think it is important to note that this is the only story that Mark tells of someone who is called to follow Jesus who refuses.
The story provides clues for us to understand what is really going on here. We know that the man who approaches Jesus has “many possessions.” He is rich. And the question he asks of Jesus provides the first clue for us: “What must I do to inherit…?” The question has the sense of acquiring something, of earning something, perhaps even of buying something. The man is functioning within a market economy mindset: “What will it take to get this other thing that I want?” Jesus’ response is to recite the last six commandments of the Big Ten. He doesn’t name the first four—which have to do with our relationship with God—but rather, focuses on the last six, which are all about our relationship to our neighbor. And Jesus edits one of the commandments—evidently just for the benefit of this man before him. In verse 19 of our passage, instead of “you shall not covet” Jesus says, “you shall not defraud.” Obviously, this rich man probably doesn’t covet much—he doesn’t really need to! The thing that made folks wealthy in Jesus’ day was to own property, so we can assume that this rich man had lots of property. Folks gained more wealth by acquiring the land of debt-defaulting neighbors (foreclosures?); therefore, it is also reasonable to assume that those who had lots of property, lots of wealth, had gained that wealth at the expense of the poor. In fact, the Greek word for “defraud” literally means “to keep away from someone, to deprive, to take away what rightfully belongs to someone else.” “You shall not defraud” takes on a richer tone in this light, doesn’t it? It means that in order to follow the commandment would mean that the man has to give back what doesn’t really belong to him (Brueggemann’s definition of justice)—that he would have to take seriously the call to do something about the way that the goods of the earth are unequally distributed.
But the man insists that he has followed all these commandments “since his youth.” So Jesus just asks him to put his money where his mouth is. And here’s where the story really kicks in to high gear. Jesus says, “You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.” There it is. And at this, the man is “shocked” and goes away sad because he had many possessions.
This man was right there in the presence of Jesus who was calling him, reaching for him, wanting to embrace him on the journey toward becoming more human. Jesus was inviting him into a life of sharing and generosity and self-giving—a life of caring for the poor and suffering—a life that connects us like living stones into the household of God. All he had to do was to let go of his possessions—to return to the poor what didn’t really belong to him anyway—and to follow…and the man turned away—grieving!
What a missed opportunity. The man’s life and wealth could have been used to transform the world. He could have become a great benefactor in the Kin-dom, a restorer of justice, a contributor to God’s vision of mercy, generosity, and care for the poor. He had an opportunity to share in God’s way of giving life so that others receive life—and his own life could have been transformed in the process. But his possessions were his obstacle, his stumbling block. He just couldn’t let go.
Jesus goes on to teach the disciples about how hard it is for those with wealth to enter the Kin-dom of God. And this teaching is not that wealthy people can’t enter—after all there are plenty of accounts of Jesus welcoming wealthy folks into his fellowship and into the Kin-dom. No, the teaching isn’t that wealthy folks can’t enter the Kin-dom but just that it is very difficult… because of the seductive power of wealth, because the more we have the more we have to focus on taking care of what we have, because of the false sense of security that wealth provides, because the more money we have the more selfish we tend to become—it seems that for many rich people, the focus becomes serving the self and not serving the poor and the suffering. I can’t help but think about Martin Shkreli, the former hedge fund manager who founded a pharmaceutical company and proceeded to increase the price of a drug used on sick babies and AIDS and cancer patients from $13.50 a tablet to $750.[i] Jesus’s words reverberate: “Do not defraud”…
That, of course, is an extreme example. And we all find ourselves at very different places along the wealth spectrum. In fact some of you may be thinking, “I don’t have lots of possessions or money—I’m barely making ends meet. What can this story possibly have to say to me?” The answer, I think, is that the point of the story is not so much about how much you have, but about your relationship to whatever you have. The question posed to the man in today’s Gospel is a great litmus test. If Jesus asked you to part with some cherished possession for the sake of the poor, what would your response be? It is fairly common, I fear, to minimize the implications of the basic Christian proposition that all we have is a gift from God and that we are simply given responsibility to use God’s possessions wisely and lovingly. “Yeah, yeah,” we say, “all I have is a gift from God. But it’s still mine.” And so we cling to our possessions—and somewhere someone goes hungry and without shelter and without care and without what they need to be whole… Out of fear or control or selfishness we turn away from the one who can put our lives and our wealth to very good use. We turn away from the opportunity to be transformed through allowing all that we have and all that we are to become part of God’s project of love, healing, peace, and compassion. That’s what the man did in the gospel story. Could he have made a different choice? Of course he could. And so can we.
Richard Rohr tells the story of a couple he knows who are quite wealthy but who choose to live simply without excess luxuries or status symbols. They very intentionally use their money to support charities and the church. The mother gathers their six (!) children together each month as she writes checks, telling the kids a story about each charity to which the money is being sent—and helping them understand why other people need the money more than they do. Rohr says “I think the mother’s check-writing process is probably the best form of religious education. The rubber has met the road. It’s not highly metaphysical and spiritual; it’s ‘Jesus means this. Commitment means this. Love means this.’”[ii]
That is why I tithe my income to Foundry and why every year I increase—even if just a little. Because it’s where the rubber meets the road. “Jesus means this. Commitment means this. Love means this.” I wasn’t always able to tithe in my life, but I did what I could and every year I gave a little more until I had worked my way up to the tithe of 10%. And each year I think—how much more can I give each week to the work God is doing through the church? The cost of one lunch at Sweet Green? The cost of a theater or sports ticket? For me, the practice of writing a check each week is a regular spiritual reminder that what I have is a gift that is meant to be used for the building of God’s Kin-dom—that I am meant to be used for God’s purposes, that my life finds its meaning and purpose as I offer myself in love, service, and generosity. You may be thinking, “Yeah, well, you’re the ‘professional Christian’ and you have to say and do this.” But let me tell you, before I am anything else, I try to be a follower of Jesus Christ. I think you and I have that in common. // I love the line from the Broadway show Hello, Dolly!, “Money is like manure; it’s not worth a thing unless it’s spread around encouraging things to grow.”[iii] And I would suggest that what we do with our money is simply an extension of what we truly desire our lives to be about…
Today, Jesus invites you and me to be used for the Kin-dom, to allow our lives and whatever wealth we have to be spread around encouraging things to grow. Jesus says, “Come and follow me.” What do you say?
Sunday Sep 27, 2015
Sunday Sep 27, 2015
A sermon preached by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli at Foundry UMC September 27, 2015, the eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost.
Scripture text: Mark 9:38-50
We have just journeyed through several weeks of big events—here at Foundry and in our city and nation. Following our extraordinary Bicentennial Homecoming service, Pope Francis arrived in the U.S. and the whole world has been watching. I have been observing with great interest the reactions to the Pope’s words and actions. It is profound the ways in which persons from all faiths and none respond to Pope Francis’s humble presence and his message of care, compassion, and service. And is it not a sad commentary on the state of the witness of the American church in the public square, that people seem genuinely surprised by this most powerful Christian leader’s emphasis on peace, on humility, on welcoming the stranger, on the dignity of every person, and serving the poor and oppressed? Isn’t that what is at the heart of the Christian message? What has happened to us?
I immediately think of Martin Luther King, Jr.’s words from his Letter from the Birmingham Jail: “The contemporary Church is so often a weak, ineffectual voice with an uncertain sound. It is so often the archsupporter of the status quo.” Today there are some widely-known Christian voices that, perhaps benignly, encourage a self-focused faith, voices that strive to never make anyone uncomfortable. And then there are other voices all over the media, voices of so-called Christian people that are not weak or ineffectual; rather the position is strong and more certain than true Christian faith allows; it is a voice of condemnation, a voice of exclusion, a voice of fear and control and—at its worst—outright hatred. These kinds of “Christian” voices are the ones most associated with the church by those outside it. And then add to that all the various and sundry ways that you and I and other Christian folks fail in the “walk your talk” category and you’ve got a pretty solid, and very sad answer for why so many seem surprised by Pope Francis’s words and way.
In the Gospel, the report John makes to Jesus is that the disciples had seen someone succeeding where they had failed—and they told him to stop doing it! Earlier in this chapter, the disciples couldn’t cast out the demon from a boy who was brought to them. (9:17-18) And just after this epic fail, they (ironically) got all tangled up in an argument about who was the greatest among them. (9:33-37) And then today we get John’s comment to Jesus: “Teacher, we saw someone casting out demons in your name, and we tried to stop him, because he was not with us.” (9:38) It’s as if he is saying, “Well, if we couldn’t do it, we’re hardly going to stand by and let somebody else who isn’t even a disciple do it!” The disciples failed to appreciate that this person who was not formally a part of “the church” was calling on the name of Jesus—this person was on the path perhaps without fully knowing it. And the disciples’ self-centeredness and gate-keeping—and need to be the “great” and powerful ones—puts a big old stumbling block in the way. What do you suppose folks thought about the so-called Jesus-followers who said that acts of healing had to stop because the agent of healing wasn’t in the right club?
Jesus doesn’t mince words in his response; his examples are extreme: if something you are doing causes a person to close their mind or heart to the love of God in Christ, you might as well throw yourself overboard with a weight tied to your leg. And if your hands and feet—the agents of your actions—are doing things and walking in ways destructive to faith, hope, and love, then get rid of them! If your eyes—the agents of your perception—lead you to hate and exclude, cut them out. Jesus is not advocating self-mutilation here. Hyperbole was a common way of teaching in Jesus’ day. And Jesus is teaching that any obstacle, any stumbling block, any skandalon—which is the Greek word—that trips someone up on their way to getting closer to God must be removed. Anything that is an obstacle to God get rid of it. Jesus isn’t messing around here! Jesus calls for an extreme makeover.
What is our particular calling as we hear these words of Jesus? First of all, we need to consider what we are doing—or not doing—that is getting in the way of our living a more whole, faithful, peaceful, and just life. What are we/you doing that places a stumbling block in the way of someone opening their heart or mind to God? What are we doing—or not doing—that presents an obstacle to others’ seeing Christian faith as credible and life-giving? That is the place to start. Perhaps you know where the makeover needs to happen in your life…
Here at Foundry, we know there changes that need to be made—some things need a makeover! Last week, we reflected upon the changes that will be happening in our building over the next 6-10 months; and we particularly focused on the first part of any remodeling project—abatement and demolition. We considered the discomfort and challenges presented by “the dust” of such a project—as well as potential ways to come through with a sense of purpose. The second part of a remodeling process involves structural changes and adding the finishes that make a space safe, inviting and beautiful. There are aspects of our current physical plant that present obstacles to the kind of radical hospitality we want to be known for. There are parts of the current setup that fail to highlight the beauty of various features already present—such as the stained glass windows. We are choosing to make life messy for a while in order to strengthen our ability to welcome and to serve others. Even as we address the structural changes that need to be made in our building, we are also looking at structural changes in our programs—looking at our habits and practices to see where there may be obstacles to making connections and going deeper in relationship with one another and with God. This is a primary focus for us as we move forward.
// As I pondered all this—and read the Pope’s speech to Congress—I found another connection with our Gospel lesson. Here is an excerpt from the speech: “Now is the time for courageous actions and strategies, aimed at implementing a “culture of care” (Laudato Si’, 231) and “an integrated approach to combating poverty, restoring dignity to the excluded, and at the same time protecting nature” (ibid., 139). “We have the freedom needed to limit and direct technology” (ibid., 112); “to devise intelligent ways of… developing and limiting our power” (ibid., 78); and to put technology “at the service of another type of progress, one which is healthier, more human, more social, more integral” (ibid., 112).”
There is much in this short quote to take in—the connection between poverty, the dignity of those who have been excluded, and creation care is profound. I am hopeful that we will continue to discover ways to allow these insights to inform our own mission and advocacy efforts. But I must admit that the line that struck me as the most challenging at a very basic, structural level is this: “We have the freedom needed to…devise intelligent ways of…developing and limiting our power.” Developing and LIMITING our power. That is downright un-American. Why develop power if you have to just turn around and limit it??
When Jesus speaks of cutting off that which leads into “sin” is he not talking about “limiting” or curbing how we use the gifts at our disposal so that they do good and not harm? Hands and feet and eyes—and the technologies that the Pope references—are good gifts. But these gifts can be used for good or for ill. Jesus teaches us to use our gifts and our power in ways that build up rather than destroy. Of course what some people argue builds up, others are convinced is absolutely destructive. It’s not easy…but it our call is clear: We simply must find ways to discern what is truly most life-giving and to work together to “cut off” those things that do harm and to develop and use technologies that heal. The idea of intentionally “limiting” our power—for any reason—is radical in our current cultural climate.
And that brings me back around to where we started. In the wake of Pope Francis’s visit to DC I have been left with a nagging conviction that the Christian witness and voice in our nation needs an extreme makeover. The current prevailing Christian voice and vibe is more than a stumbling block on the path to Christ, it is an absolute deterrent to so many people. We who find ourselves in the Christian Mainline, who are advocates for peace with justice in all areas of our human life, for the radical hospitality and steadfast love of our God for all people, for the engagement of the biblical texts with all the faculties of tradition, reason and experience at our disposal, for the cultivation of faith community that calls forth and values all the diverse gifts that people bring, for the amazing and saving grace of God, for the care of all living creatures and an absolute commitment to the poor and oppressed—we simply must find a way to raise our voices and to change the trajectory in the public square. I know that we are part of a denomination that has yet to embrace full inclusion for LGBTQ people and that that is a deterrent in itself, but the Pope is part of a denomination with similar issues—not to mention some others—and he creates an aura of welcoming, safe, and beautiful space. His presence and his message are inviting—even if you don’t agree with everything that he or his church says.
I’m not suggesting that Foundry is the equivalent of the Pope—I mean, he’s the Pope! But I am asking this: How can we at Foundry lead in removing from the public square the stumbling blocks of bad theology, exclusionary practices, and a perverted vision of Christianity that would suggest that Jesus is in favor of unchecked power—might makes right—even to the point of destruction? How can we make not only Foundry—but our Christian faith—inviting, safe, and beautiful for those who long for love, hope, and meaning? We are certainly trying to do our part within our walls—we’re even changing our walls! I would hope that each of us tries to live in the world as a walking, talking reflection of the faith that we profess, that we do all we can to remove obstacles to faith for ourselves and for others, and that we each take every opportunity to invite people to experience the life in Christ that we share here at Foundry. But the question for which I don’t yet have the full answer is this: how can we at Foundry truly make an impact on airwaves and twitter feeds and all the tributaries of information and influence that run throughout our land? How can we—can we?—participate in that extreme makeover? If there’s a chance that we can, I pray that you and I will have the courage to go under the knife, whatever that might mean…
In any case, the message today is about our witness…
Sunday Sep 13, 2015
Sunday Sep 13, 2015
Past Foundry UMC members Hillary Rodham Clinton and Chelsea Clinton returned to Foundry as guest speakers, delivering the Bicentennial Homecoming message on Sunday, September 13, 2015.
Sunday Aug 23, 2015
Sunday Aug 23, 2015
A guest sermon preached by Mark A. Schaefer at Foundry United Methodist Church on Sunday, August 23, 2015.
Text: John 20:19-31
It was still the first day of the week. That evening, while the disciples were behind closed doors because they were afraid of the Jewish authorities, Jesus came and stood among them. He said, “Peace be with you.” After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. When the disciples saw the Lord, they were filled with joy. Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father sent me, so I am sending you.” Then he breathed on them and said, “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive anyone’s sins, they are forgiven; if you don’t forgive them, they aren’t forgiven.” Thomas, the one called Didymus, one of the Twelve, wasn’t with the disciples when Jesus came. The other disciples told him, “We’ve seen the Lord!”
But he replied, “Unless I see the nail marks in his hands, put my finger in the wounds left by the nails, and put my hand into his side, I won’t believe.”
After eight days his disciples were again in a house and Thomas was with them. Even though the doors were locked, Jesus entered and stood among them. He said, “Peace be with you.” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here. Look at my hands. Put your hand into my side. No more disbelief. Believe!”
Thomas responded to Jesus, “My Lord and my God!”
Jesus replied, “Do you believe because you see me? Happy are those who don’t see and yet believe.”
Then Jesus did many other miraculous signs in his disciples’ presence, signs that aren’t recorded in this scroll. But these things are written so that you will believe that Jesus is the Christ, God’s Son, and that believing, you will have life in his name.
I. BEGINNING
So, here we are in Washington, D.C.—a city full of people who have come to make a name for themselves. Who have come to change the world and through hard work and sheer determination, seek to make a mark on history.
If you’re going to get a place in history, be sure you get a good epithet to accompany your name. Like “the Great”, if you can swing it. King Alfred the Great—the only “the Great” in all of English history—earned that distinction likely for his promotion of Anglo-Saxon literature. Pope Gregory the Great earned that epithet for his guidance of the church into the post-Imperial world and his presiding over the collection of the Gregorian Sacramentary and Gregorian Chant.
You’ll want to aim high, of course, and go for epithets like “the Conqueror” or “the Magnificent” or “the Powerful”. And if they called you “the Fair” or “the Just” or “the Merciful” that wouldn’t be bad either.
Of course there are other epithets you could earn like “Pepin the Short”, “Charles the Bald”, or “John the Theologian.” Those are mostly harmless. But definitely try to avoid ones like “the Accursed”, “the Impaler,” or “the Apostate.” You wouldn’t want to go through life with an epithet like that hanging over you.
Which is why I always feel so bad for poor Thomas. Thomas the Doubter. Doubting Thomas. That’s a rough nickname to live down, especially in church, right?
II. DOUBTING THOMAS
Here it is, still on the first day of the week, still on that first Easter Sunday. The disciples are all huddled together and afraid and Jesus appears among them. He breathes the Holy Spirit on them and tells everyone “If you forgive anyone’s sins, they are forgiven; if you don’t forgive them, they aren’t forgiven.” Well, he tells everyone but Thomas because Thomas, for some reason, isn’t there.
Now that merits a whole sermon in and of itself, I think. Where on earth is Thomas? Seriously, why isn’t he there with the rest of them? I guess we’ll never know.
But when he does return and the other disciples all tell him that Jesus has appeared to them, he says: “Unless I see the nail marks in his hands, put my finger in the wounds left by the nails, and put my hand into his side, I won’t believe.”
Now let me ask you something: is there any one of us, having been through the week that the disciples have just been through, entering into Jerusalem with Jesus in triumph, witnessing conflict and controversy, his betrayal, arrest, trial, and crucifixion, who upon hearing that Jesus had been raised from the dead wouldn’t say exactly what Thomas does? Forget us, would any of the other disciples have answered any differently? You remember the disciples, right? The ones who all scattered and fled when Jesus was arrested, who betrayed or denied him, who’ve been hiding out in an upper room for three days. These paragons of faithfulness. Will anyone insist that had it been Peter out running errands (or whatever it was Thomas was doing), or James, or John, that their responses would be any different?
Of course not.
But it was Thomas who wasn’t there and so he gets to go through history known as Doubting Thomas. Now, he will later come to believe, after seeing Jesus, but Jesus will remind him (and the reader) that happy are those who do not see and yet still believe. So even though Thomas now believes, it’s only because he’s had proof. Without the proof, he’d still have his doubts.
III. FAITH AND DOUBT
A. Belief and Certainty
And see, that’s a problem. Because Christianity is all about faith. And Thomas doubts. And we’re not supposed to do that. We’re supposed to have faith.
It’s a dilemma for Christians, especially those of us of the Protestant variety. See, we led the Reformation centered on the principle that salvation was by God’s grace through faith. The saving was God’s doing but the confirmation of that salvation came through our faith. So, faith is pretty important.
And what does faith entail? Well, we had dismissed the notion that faith was all about works—the mass, the prayers, the indulgences, etc. etc.—but we quickly transitioned to the notion that faith was about belief. I mean, we had all these creeds, you know, that all begin with things like “I believe in God the Father Almighty…” and talk about things we’re supposed to believe.
In the Nineteenth Century, certain segments of the church even doubled-down on this idea. As new scientific understandings were emerging that challenged traditional beliefs, certain Christians publish a list of five “fundamentals” that were essential to Christian faith. They were five things that had to be believed in order to maintain authentic Christian faith, in their minds. Things like Biblical inerrancy, Virgin Birth, and so on. This gave rise to the term “Fundamentalist”. But if we’re honest, the emphasis on certainty in faith and on belief in certain doctrines has a much wider area of application than the Fundamentalists alone.
Very often in religion, we equate faith with assent to doctrine or blind acceptance of certain things to be true. And we require certainty.
In one of the more unusual first dates I ever went on, I once went to a Maundy Thursday service at a church of another denomination. As the pastor broke the bread for communion, he stated—as we do here—that this is the Lord’s table not our own. “However,” he continued, “If you have any doubt as to your commitment to Christ, you should not partake of this meal because then you are drinking the Cup of Judgment.” Any doubt? Any?
That seemed like a tall order. For anyone. How could anyone not have doubt? I doubt all the time.
I doubt a lot. There are times when I doubt that I’m any good at what I do. Or that it has any meaning in the long run. I have doubts that I know what I’m talking about. I have doubts that any of this matters. I have doubts that there’s meaning to anything in this world or that the world is proceeding along any kind of plan. I have doubts about whether we’re not all just in some absurdist farce of utterly pointless endeavors against the background of an unfeeling, uncaring abyss. Of course I doubt. The pastor’s question seemed to me an absurdity. How could you be certain of anything?
But not for the people in the pews around me, I guess. They didn’t seem to have a problem with it. (That may explain why that first date didn’t turn into a second date.) They were certain. Or at least weren’t about to admit otherwise.
B. The Impossibility of Certainty
But can that certainty ever really be found? I doubt it. It seems to be everywhere we go. It even shows up in the scriptures, in places we don’t expect.
At the end of Matthew’s gospel, right after the Easter story, we have a curious scene. The women have returned from the empty tomb. They have told the eleven disciples that Jesus has been raised from the dead and that the angel of God has told them to go back to Galilee where they will see him. And we read:
Now the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them. When they saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted.
They hear this fantastic story from the women. They go back to Galilee to the mountain they were told to go to. There they encounter the Resurrected Christ and fall down before him, but some doubted? What?
People doubt all kinds of things. That’s not strange or unusual. But here the disciples encounter the Jesus raised from the dead and they still aren’t sure? What are they waiting for, a sign from God? I mean, another sign from God? This is even worse than the story of Thomas from John’s gospel, because while he doubts what he has not seen, they doubt what they have. It seems that even with those who were present with Jesus, there was doubt. Perhaps doubt is inescapable after all.
The more we learn about the universe we inhabit, it’s hard not to come to that conclusion. The universe seemed to be such a predictable place. The physicists had it all worked out. Action and reaction. Motion and inertia. Kinetic and potential energy. Force equals mass times acceleration. Everything nice and consistent.
Except that certain observations of the universe brought some of those understandings into doubt. Either our observations were wrong or our physics was wrong. Along comes Einstein and turns the whole world on its head by promoting a Theory of Relativity in which time itself can be a variable. Once even time became a variable, the sense that the world had become a lot less certain took hold. This was due in large measure to the advancement of relativity in a host of other disciplines. If velocity and acceleration were variable based on the observer’s point of view, then perhaps everything else was relative, too. Morality. Ideology. Culture. Religion. This kind of uncertainty terrified everyone, religious folks, especially.
And then along came the quantum physicists. Werner Heisenberg argued that it was impossible to know both the location and the momentum of a subatomic particle. One could know either where it was, or where it was going, but not both things at once. It was a claim that caused Einstein to object famously, “God does not play dice with the universe!” Einstein later retracted that objection when the evidence was clear.
And quantum mechanics only gets weirder. It appears that an unobserved electron takes every single path on its way to a target, such that its position can only be stated as a function of probability. That is, when asked whether an electron is in a given place, all a scientist can say is, “Probably.” Probably? This is science. The folks with the microscopes and the slide-rules and all that precision equipment and the best description they can give of something that should be fairly easy is “probably.”
It seems, my friends, that uncertainty is written into the very fabric of the universe. Doubt, it seems, is unavoidable.
C. Faith and Doubt
And not only unavoidable. It’s necessary.
We often fall into the trap of equating faith with belief. But faith is not belief. Faith is trust. And there’s an interesting thing about trust—it is not rooted in certainty.
Those of you who know me will not be surprised to discover that I am a huge science fiction fan. And so I think that one of the best things ever said about trust and knowing comes from the TV show Battlestar Galactica. In one episode, a character who had previously betrayed another character is being sent out on a mission by that second person. She asks him, “How do you know you can really trust me?” He responds, “I don’t; that’s what trust is.”
How is it that the writers of a science fiction television series can articulate a truth that is seemingly so hard for the church to get? (If you doubt that, take a look through the hymnal and see if there are any hymns about doubt, or hymns that don’t try to resolve your doubt.)
Faith is trust, and trust is not about certainty. Trust is about setting out in spite of uncertainty. Were we to have certainty we could not trust. We would just simply know. And that’s not what we’re called to do. We are not Gnostics, saved by what we know. We are saved by trusting.
Our faith has never been about knowing. It has never been about certainty. It has never been about belief. It has been about stepping into the unknown, about taking that leap of faith.
This is not a blind leap. It is not a leap of ignorance. It is not a leap wherein we cover our ears and our eyes and ignore what the world has to say. It’s where we acknowledge what we don’t know; we acknowledge our own limitations, our own gaps in understanding, our own fears, our own doubts… and we go anyway.
IV. THE TWIN
Another thought occurs to me about our friend Thomas. Did you know that Thomas isn’t even his real name? It’s his nickname. Thomas (called Didymus) is just the Aramaic word for “twin.” Which is what “Didymus” means in Greek, by the way. Thomas is “Twin” (called “Twin”). So, let me ask you this question: whose twin is he? How can you have just one twin? It stands to reason that Thomas must be somebody’s twin.
Even if the term “twin” is just a nickname because he really looks like someone else, who is the person that he looks like? Isn’t it weird to call someone “twin” or “lookalike” and not say who it is he is a twin to or who it is he looks like?
Unless you stop and think about it. This isn’t just any old grouping of friends. This is a group of a master and his disciples. It you’re going to call one of the members of that group “the twin” and his twin is unspoken, it’s pretty obvious that it’s got to be the master. Thomas is Jesus’ “twin” or “lookalike.”
Now, if true, this would certainly explain why Judas needed to identify Jesus to the Temple Guard in the garden—because there was another guy there who looked a lot like him. (It also bears noting, as an aside, that Judas does not simply say, “Oh, he’ll be easy to spot: he’s the tall, blond-haired, blue-eyed, white guy.”)
And of course, if you really want to run with this, as a friend of mine once did, you can invent all kinds of conspiracy theories where it was Thomas who was crucified and Jesus who went to India to found Christianity there.
But let’s consider the implications of Thomas being Jesus’ “twin.” If Jesus is the model of perfect faith, and his twin is Thomas, who models doubt, then what we understand is that faith and doubt are not antitheses, they are twins. Faith and doubt are paired together. Bound up in relationship. Just as you cannot have just one twin, you cannot have faith without its twin, doubt. Like a yin and yang, the two go hand in hand.
Perhaps it’s not the worst thing in the world to go through life known as Doubting Thomas. Perhaps of all the epithets we could earn, it would be the most honest of them all. And the most indicative of the kind of trust that we as disciples are meant to have.
To own our doubt, to embrace our unknowing, and to set out on the journey wherever it may take us.
Sunday Aug 16, 2015
Sunday Aug 16, 2015
A sermon preached by Executive Pastor Rev. Dawn M. Hand at Foundry UMC on Sunday, August 16, 2015.