Garner Preaching Prize

This is the sermon I preached today for the Garner Preaching Prize.  Most of you probably know that preaching hasn't really been a part of my vision for my vocation, but sometimes there is a vision greater than our own so...  The only parameters were that the audience we were preaching to was the BU School of Theology audience.  Here it is:
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Goodness, you all are a good looking crowd, an intimidatingly good looking crowd. 

I had the realization earlier today that as the last preacher I had the option of pulling a Jimmy Stuart and going for the filibuster.  Today Marsh Chapel, tomorrow Washington.  But I won’t.

 

Our reading this afternoon comes from Paul’s letter to the Romans, Chapter 12, verses 1 and 2:

¹I appeal to you therefore, brothers and sisters, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.  ²Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God—what is good and acceptable and perfect. 

The word of God for the people of God.
Thanks be to God.

When I sat down to write this sermon I debated whether or not to begin by telling you my conclusion in advance.  Is it more elegant to lead you gently there, letting the prose slowly unfurl like a gently budding blossom, or should I just load you on the number 57 bus, send you hurtling through traffic to the station, and shove you out the door at my conclusion?  Given that 2:40 in the afternoon is prime nap time, and you’ve been listening to sermons all day, I’ve opted for the latter.  You’re welcome.

My conclusion is this: we have completely missed the point when it comes to thinking about sacrifice, to our detriment.  Simply hearing the word causes us to shut down.  We have thought of it as privation, as taking, as gruesome, primitive, and entirely without merit.  Given the vision of sacrifice we’ve inherited our reticence is understandable, but we’ve been wrong.

Today I’m going to offer an alternative, life giving understanding of sacrifice as self-limitation, which I believe has the potential to free us individually and to allow us collectively to be the people God has called us to be.

Okay, now that you know the destination, let’s get to the unfurling.

For those of you who have not spent your recent free time ambling through commentaries on Romans, I’ll offer a very brief, sweeping recap of the chapters prior to today’s verses, and a summary of the chapters which follow:

In Chapters 1-4 Paul begins his argument by explaining that the gospel unveils the fact that through Jesus the Messiah God has been faithful to the Abrahamic covenant by creating a world-wide family for Abraham.

Chapters 5-8 go on to detail that through Jesus, God is doing for this new family what was done for Israel, namely redeeming them from enslavement and guiding them through this life to future inheritance.

Chapters 9-11 state that though Israel has failed to recognize this new manifestation of the covenant, and though this covenant has been opened to peoples beyond Israel, God still desires Israel’s participation in covenantal blessings.

The two verses we’ll be examining today (Chapter 12:1-2) serve as the hinge between these points and the conclusion of Paul’s argument found in chapters 12-16.  In these concluding chapters Paul closes by claiming that the community of the gospel should reflect God’s desire that Jew and Gentile come together to worship Christ, one body with one mission.  Paul has all kinds of suggestions on how one ought to live, but I’ll leave these for you to investigate and evaluate for yourself.  I know that, following midterms, you are without things to read and research.

           

This whole letter is an exposition of God’s faithfulness and justice rooted in the Abrahamic covenant which, through Jesus the Messiah, has been opened to the rest of the world, ushering in God’s kingdom of vindication and hope.  Paul wants to show the Jesus followers in Rome what God has been up to all along, and where they might fit into that plan.  Now, to claim that the seat of justice is not in the capital of the Roman Empire, but in Christ is a bold claim to make especially to those living in said capital, but Paul was nothing if not bold.

           

So, with that background let’s take a look at the text for today.  My initial read through raised a couple of questions for me, so, in good exegetical faith, I took myself to the library.  Lo and behold there were these things called books (gasp!) full of helpful information.

On to the questions.

Question 1: When Paul says, “I appeal to you therefore, brothers and sisters, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship,” what he mean by “body”?  Does God just want me for my body?  Am I left to do what I like with the rest of me?

By body Paul is referring to not simply the physical flesh and bone, but the entirety of our person.  An all-inclusive view of ourselves.  Not only all we are, but all that we will be.

             Question 2: What is a “living sacrifice”?  Is Paul into some kind of early church equivalent of

             “The Walking Dead”?

It appears Paul did have an interest in the undead.  A living sacrifice implies a bloodless sacrifice, and when we combine that with the holistic notion of the body, we see that Paul is entreating us to offer to God all that we are, body, mind, soul, strength.  Our very identity.

           Question 3: What is “spiritual worship” and how am I supposed to do it with my fleshly body?

The word translated as “spiritual” is in no way related to pneuma (or spirit), a word we know very well.  Instead of pneuma we find the word logikos, which would be better translated as “rational” or “reasonable”.  This word would have resonated with Jewish and Hellenistic philosophers alike, adding to Paul’s main theme of the world-wide covenant made possible in Christ.

When we add this final bit to our understanding of verse 1, Paul’s appeal becomes clear: in light of God’s continued faithfulness to the covenant people, of which the gentiles and Jews are both part, the only lifestyle that makes sense is one of worship.  In our coming in and going out, the devotion of our entire person gives glory to God.

How is this meaningful to us in this room today?  In a world that equates our worth with our status, belongings, appearance, gender normativity, and overall hipness factor the pressure to do whatever it takes to fit in, to be taken seriously, is undeniable.  American society tells us that we must have the contemporary equivalent of the white picket fence, what is sometimes referred to as “the standard package” – the latest cell phone, nice enough car, a varied wardrobe so that people don’t see us in the same outfit too often, etc.  These are not luxurious wants, these are basic necessities.  These things are the foundation of our identity. 

We all, to some extent, know this isn’t the truth—that these are the things that “moths and rust will soon destroy,” things that won’t ultimately satisfy our dissatisfactions.  We know that our identity is not defined by what the world thinks, but rather by what God thinks.  We know this, and in many cases we’ve spent years developing our thoughts on what God does think.  Seeking to master God’s name, as one of my colleagues earlier in the day said.

And that is precisely why this matter to us in this room.  We have had the privilege to stop and think.  To think lofty thoughts, to dive into mysteries.  To absorb the best of what critical scholarship has to offer.  And this privilege requires us to do something about it.  Privilege is a loaded word.  I recognize that.  Feminist theologian Sarah Cokley asserts that we are all privileged in some fashion and I stand with her on that.  We in this room, students and faculty of Boston University School of Theology, are privileged.  And it is the privileged who have the most to gain and most to lose by choosing to see sacrifice as self-limitation.

When we hear or see played out the false narratives of consumerism, nationalism, individualism, dualism, that tell us our salvation is found in isms, that we can consume our way to heaven, when we see these things, we have a choice.  The thoughts we think, the work we do, and the way we live all buy into this myth…or reject it.  These insidious myths circumscribe our worldview.  They limit the possibilities we see to what the "isms" want us to see.  When we reject these narratives we naturally limit ourselves—we limit our consumption to what is fair, sustainable, and respectful.  We limit the hold nationalism has on our imaginations.  We recognize the limits of our individuality, and the ways our perceived limitlessness can limit others.  We limit our belief in easy fixes and clear solutions promised to us by dualism.  In this way, self-limitation is resistance.

Now, you may have heard me mention that those with privilege have the most to lose when we begin self-limiting.  I felt everybody get a little uncomfortable, a little shifty.  So what do we lose?  We stand to lose the status the world attributes to us.  You see, when you cease to buy into the world’s schtick the world ceases to buy into you.

What do we gain? We gain freedom.  Freedom from the notion that we can have it all.  That we should have it all.  Freedom from the drive that keeps us from looking up, looking around, or looking inside.  Friends, we are finite for a reason.  Our createdness isn’t a fluke.  When we live into the Messianic covenant, recognizing that the only reasonable response to grace is a life lived as worship, we limit ourselves, not as a negation of self, but to transform the self into the image of God.  When we limit ourselves we are free to be nothing more and nothing less than what God has called us to be.  This is Paul’s point in verse 2—to reject the confines of the world’s imagination and be made in the image of God is to be transformed.  When we live in the world with praise, we are given possibilities to see anew God’s mercies.  This is the good news!

Now, I recognize that the concept of self-limitation could be harmful for those who have been denied agency, either through systemic or personal abuse.  For these people sacrifice has been taking rather than giving, and we must be careful and attentive to the ways their experience differs from ours.  For these people transformation happens in different ways, but I believe that for us, our self-limitation is what helps open our eyes and hearts to the pain of others.  In this way self-limitation intertwines our transformation with theirs.

 

I believe this is a message that we, the people in this room and the church, need to hear.  As I face graduation and entrance into full time church service I wonder if the church is ready to hear this message not as condemnation, but as good news.  As I face the likelihood of bi-vocational ministry, decreased giving, and increasing poverty I wonder if I will serve churches that expect me to uphold the status they feel they’re due.  I wonder if I will be expected to drive, at the minimum, a program Honda Civic instead of a dependable 1994 Buick Century named Velma.

I wonder if I will be able to help a community re-narrate their life and help them see freedom in their midst.  I wonder if I will be able to resist the siren call of status.  With any luck my natural introversion and dislike of anything resembling schmoozing will keep that program Civic well beyond my grasp.

It seems fitting to give this sermon in this chapel on this day.  All Saints Day gives us the opportunity to reflect on and remember our spiritual ancestors.  As we sit in this chapel we are surrounded by windows and carvings of those who have made our lives possible.  Who limited themselves to the call of God on their lives.  Those who could not rest until they were found in God.  Likewise we anticipate the future saints.  Those who depend on us to worship God with our identities. 

My sister was due to have her second child, a little girl named Etta, three days ago.  As of yet no news…so I wait…it’s all about me, you know.  Anyway, I’ve been thinking about the kind of world I want for her.  A world where the grace limited by the neat boxes of dualism is set free.  Where the boundaries of nation are porous enough for Jew and gentile to commune as one.  One where the chasm of oblivion accessed through drugs, domestic violence, and war is filled and healed.  Where all of creation is respected, not for what can be taken from it, but for the way it witnesses to God’s great faithfulness, mercy, and love.

This is the world I want, and I feel comfortable in saying that this is the world we all want.  A world made new.  God has given us hands, hearts, and minds freed to do the work set before us.  In light of the mercies of God isn’t this our reasonable worship?