The Far Side Of Our Estrangement

Good morning.  When I was in college, I was a member of a non-denominational Christian ministry at the University of Colorado. One Fall we had a retreat in the mountains, and the leader of our group, I'll call him Larry, gave a wonderful talk called "The Far Side Of Our Estrangement."  Larry's message was that God came all the way into our sinful humanity in Christ, identifying with our every weakness and shortcoming. Larry's text was 2nd Corinthians 5:21, where Paul says that "God made him (Christ) who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God." Larry pushed this idea that Christ became sin for us as far as it could go, almost, almost, saying that Christ actually sinned so He could partake of our estrangement. 

After the talk I was talking to another campus minister, I'll call him Rick, and I said something that I regret saying to this day. What I said to Rick set in motion a chain of events that led to misunderstanding, deep bitterness, and broken relationships. What I said to Rick is one of those things that if I could get a do-over about things in my past, this would be one of those things I would change. 

Our gospel reading this morning is a difficult passage. Jesus gives us some guidelines about how to deal with conflict with our brothers and sisters in the church, and His principles are difficult to understand, they are very hard to practice, and, to be honest, they have been terribly abused by Christians throughout church history.  Hopefully, by telling you what went wrong with Rick and Larry, as initiated by me, we can gain some insights into what Christians should be striving for when there is conflict in the church. 

When I was chatting with Rick after Larry's message, not for the first time my sense of humor got me into trouble. I praised Larry's talk, but I said, "boy, it sounded like Larry said that Christ sinned. That Larry is a real heretic." A week later Larry asked to speak to me, and he asked me what I thought he had said at the retreat. I said I thought he pushed the idea that Jesus became sin as far as he could go, but not too far.  Larry then showed me a letter from Rick. In the letter Rick said he was very concerned about Larry's theology, he had spoken to a bright young student named Jim Banks, that would be me, who thought Larry was teaching heresy, and that Larry needed to repent of his heresies and make a public apology.  Uh oh.  I felt terrible. I assured Larry that I was kidding when I said he was a heretic, and I in no way felt he really was. Larry thanked me, and said he would try to patch things up with Rick. What a mess.

We all hope that church can be a safe place to fellowship, grow, and learn, and that with our brothers and sisters in Christ we can be safe from the problems of the world. But we learn quickly, unfortunately, that church can be as rough, and sometimes rougher, than the world. I'm sure all of us, at some time in our life, have been hurt by a brother or sister in Christ. And we may well have hurt others.  That's why Jesus in Matthew 18 tells us how to handle a situation where a brother or sister has wounded us. He says if we've been hurt, go and talk to the person, in private, tell him or her our issue, and if our brother or sister listens to us, then we have won them back. Go in private with humility, in the spirit of reconciliation, with the goal of restoring your relationship.

Unfortunately, Rick did not do this with Larry.  Rick's sense of Christian theology was offended, and he should have gone to Larry, humbly, and asked for clarification, told him his concerns, and sought to bring harmony and understanding to the situation.  Instead, Rick, in a spirit of superiority, did not go to Larry but wrote a letter. He was not seeking reconciliation, but vindication, and as a judge told Larry to publicly repent. Everything Rick could do wrong, he did wrong. 

In fairness to Rick, I think we have all played the part of Rick at some point in our church lives.  Someone has hurt us, and we have not gone to them about it. Instead, we let our anger simmer. We are not particularly humble in our feelings toward our brother or sister. We know what they need to do to correct the situation, and we are not so much interested in reconciliation, as in being right. By doing this we do not win back our brother or sister.  Instead we grow cold towards them. We avoid them. Maybe we even start to get burned out about the church and about people who go to church. That's why Jesus says go to your brother and sister and try to make things right. Go in private with humility, in the spirit of reconciliation, striving to restore your relationship.  Easy to hear, but very hard to do. 

About a week and a half after I talked to Larry, he asked to meet with me again. He had sent a letter to Rick apologizing for the confusion, and he promised to meet personally with every student at the retreat to correct any misconceptions he may have inadvertently left them with. I thought that sounded very reasonable.  But then Larry showed me Rick's response.  Rick said no, not a private apology with with each student, but only a public apology would do. In addition, Rick had met "discreetly" with a theology professor at Denver seminary, and the professor agreed that Larry was teaching heresy, and there were hints that Larry might have to appear before a seminary tribunal to "clarify" his teachings. This had turned into a disaster. 

In Matthew Jesus says if you go to your brother or sister, and there is no healing, then take one or two people with you, humbly and privately, with the goal of healing and reconciliation. The force of Jesus's teaching is that reconciliation is so important that you keep working at it if it isn't happening, and you bring a small crisis team with you to give you the best possible chance for success. Do whatever it takes to achieve reconciliation. 

Again, Rick didn't do this. If he believed that Larry was resisting his attempts to deal with their problems, he should have met with Larry, with one or two others, and in a spirit of grace and humility done everything possible to to achieve a breakthrough. Instead, Rick went privately to someone else with his grievances, and began to devise a "remedy" for the situation. This was not a graceful next step. This was not a step seeking reconciliation. 

It's easy to do what Rick did in this situation. A fellow Christian hurts you, and your first instinct is to go tell someone about it, and to find an ally who will understand and agree with you. We've all done it. But this is not the path of grace and reconciliation. In a church body, wounds between people are like an infection, and if left untreated that infection will certainly spread. Too many churches have died because a rampant infection of bitterness and side-taking has killed them. That's why Jesus says if need be, take one or two people with you, not to spread the conflict, but to contain it.  Strive to quickly to heal the wound. 

There is a church in Denver that does something I really like. When someone wants to become a member, they tell them all about the church, and then they sit the person down, and tell them very honestly, we are going to fail you. We will hurt you, and we will disappoint you. We guarantee it. But, if you can hang in there with us, if you can patiently bring  your frustrations to us and deal with them, then that is where grace begins.  That is where grace begins.  That is so wonderful!  But that is so very hard.  When something goes wrong with another Christian, our first instinct is to believe that grace has failed and been defeated. But the opposite can be true Grace can begin when we are wounded by our brothers and sisters, if we are open to it, and if we strive for it.

Two weeks after reading Rick's second letter, Larry asked to meet with me one more time. Oh boy.  Larry told me that he had written to Rick telling him that he believed they were at an impasse, and that if Rick felt the need to continue dealing with this, then they would have to proceed according to our gospel reading, Matthew 18.  Larry meant that Rick should bring one or two along, and meet with Larry, and see if they could work it out. But Rick thought that Larry meant that Larry wanted to bring one or two along and go after Rick, and get Rick to repent. A total and complete misunderstanding. Rick said he was prepared to fight Larry, and basically, come and get me. 

What do we do in a church or Christian organization when something like this happens?  Jesus says in Matthew 18 that if you go to your brother and sister with one or two others, and you still aren't reconciled, then take it to the whole church. Of course, when a situation has gotten this bad, it will come before the church, one way or another. It always does. The question is, how will a church deal with it?  Jesus says hopefully those who are involved will listen to, and follow, the wisdom of the church. And if that doesn't work? Then let the resisting brother or sister be to you as a Gentile  and a tax collector.  We can't avoid it, these are very hard words. But in my opinion, Christians have consistently misunderstood and terribly abused this passage. Christians have believed that if a person won't listen to the church, then throw the bum out. You had your chance. Adios. But this isn't what Jesus is saying. 

We need to remember that Jesus loved Gentiles and building inspectors. Uh, tax collectors. He spent lots of time with them. He even said that Gentiles and tax collectors were going into the Kingdom of God before a lot of Jews.  Jesus is saying that if someone won't listen even to the church, then something has gone wrong.  On some level they haven't understood what the church is, or what reconciliation is, and in that sense they are like a Gentile or tax-collector. But Gentiles and tax collectors they are of infinite worth.  Go get them!  Strive to love them even more. What do you think?  If a man owns a hundred sheep, and one of them wanders away, will he not leave the ninety-nine on the hills and go to look for the one that wandered off ?  And if he finds it, truly I tell you, he is happier about that one sheep than about the ninety-nine that did not wander off. In the same way your Father in heaven is not willing that any of these little ones should perish. Jesus spoke these words right before our passage in Matthew 18.

Matthew 18 is a tough passage. We must take problems with our brothers and sisters very seriously. If I can use our Old Testament reading as an analogy, to be honest, there is an angel of death that hovers over every church, and that dark angel is the angel of hurt feelings, misunderstandings, gossip, and division. No church is immune. My guess is that at some time in our church lives, at some church, we have felt the presence of this angel of death, and maybe we have been members at a church where this angel has caused great destruction. It isn't pretty.  

But there are things we can do to make sure this angel passes over us.  We can paint our door posts with the grace of Jesus, a grace that seeks reconciliation at all costs, a grace that doesn't divide but heals, and a grace that doesn't cast out our problems, but believes instead that our problems are where grace begins.  If we cover our door posts with this attitude, we will be delivered from the darkness.

The angel of death did not spare Rick and Larry. Though Rick eventually dropped everything, he and Larry have never spoken again. They could not find the grace that heals. They could not find the grace that reconciles. It is a true tragedy.

So, one last thought.  The passionate Christians of St. Barnabas Episcopal Church are about to embark on a large building project. Some feelings will be hurt. Misunderstandings will occur. Some relationships might be strained. Are we ready?  Does the reconciling grace of God cover our door posts?  Just askin.

Amen

Doubting Thomas

Good morning. He is Risen!  When my oldest son Mario was a junior in high school, he and a friend and his friend's father traveled to Missouri for a camping trip. When Mario got back he was very excited.  Dad, I saw a spook light!  Spook light, I said? Yeah, a spook light. We were in our car at the bottom of a hill on a dirt road, and these lights appeared right after dark at the top of the hill. As we watched them, one of the lights came flying down the road and went right past us. It was a spook light!  Okay Mario, I said. That's nice.  Mario sensed my disbelief. Don't you believe me dad?  Do you think I'm making this up? I said no, I don't think you're making it up, but, a spook light?  Mario was less than happy with my reluctance to believe his story.  So I said look Mario, I'm not sure what you saw, it sounds amazing, but I guess I would have to be there to see it before I can really believe it.  Putting it mildly, Mario found my lack of faith disturbing. 

In our gospel today we read about the story of doubting Thomas. Over the course of church history, many sermons have been preached about Thomas, faith and doubt.  Should Thomas have simply believed his friends when they told him that Jesus had risen from the dead? Was he right to doubt? Did Jesus find Thomas' lack of faith disturbing?  These are difficult questions.  But for me, they leave out the question of context.  Questions of faith and doubt cannot be examined in the abstract.  You can't answer these questions without looking at the context of Thomas' life and experiences. In the same way, for each of us, questions of faith and doubt can only be answered in the context of who we are, and what is going on in our lives.  

When I was discussing with Mario his vision of the spook light, the very first thing that came to mind was not whether he really saw something, or if he was fibbing. My first thought was, what is my relationship with my son?  This was the context in which I had to address my doubts.  Though I had questions about Mario's story, I knew if I expressed these doubts to Mario that this could endanger our relationship. The relationship between dads and teenage sons is precarious anyway, and I knew that if I told Mario I doubted him that I could make our father/ teenager journey more dicey.  

I had to weigh being honest on the one hand, with preserving our relationship on the other hand.

 I believe that Thomas was responding to the other disciples in a similar context.  He and the other disciples had been through a lot together. They had spent three years with Jesus. They had seen his miracles and listened to His teachings, and they had spent the last week with him in Jerusalem, from the triumphal entry to the crucifixion. Thomas and the other disciples were a team, a band of brothers and sisters, and if Thomas told them he didn't believe them, which was to say he didn't trust them, then his relationship with them might be in big trouble. This is part of the context of Thomas' story.

So I think that Thomas telling them that he needed to put his hands in Jesus' wounds in order to believe their testimony was actually an act not so much of doubt, but of courage. He was taking a big risk that his honesty might damage his relationship with them.  He was risking being compared to another disciple, Judas, who didn't really believe in Jesus and ended up betraying him. I took a risk in being honest with Mario, and in a similar way I believe Thomas took a big risk in being honest with his friends.

It is never easy to find the courage to speak a difficult truth in a close relationship. Sometimes we need to talk to a friend, a spouse, or a family member about a problem, an addiction, or some other issue.  We all know how scary that can be, because we might be putting our relationship with them in jeopardy.  Sometimes we need to talk to a fellow employee, or maybe our boss, about something going on that needs to change, and that takes courage.  Our jobs and our livelihood can be at risk by telling the truth.  As hard as these are, it is infinitely harder to tell someone that you are close to that you don't believe them. I believe, in context, that Thomas had to make this decision, whether to be honest about his doubts, or not, even if that meant that his relationship with his friends and disciples might be damaged.  Thomas found the courage to be honest. 

Here is another story, this time from my college days. When I was a sophomore I had a crush on a girl in our campus ministry named Marilyn.  We started dating, and getting closer, until one day her old boyfriend came back into town.  Within a week Marilyn and I were no longer an item. That was really hard for me.  Well, about a year later, Marilyn started giving me hints and signals that maybe she was interested in me again (it didn't work out with her old boyfriend).  And some friends confirmed that they thought Marilyn was again looking romantically in my direction.  I wanted to believe it, because I still had feelings for her. But I was too wounded to do anything about it. I told everyone, I'm just too scarred from what happened last time. If Marilyn wants to be involved with me again, she'll have to show me. She'll have to make the first move, and make it abundantly clear that this is what she wants. I just don't have the energy to believe her. 

In context, Thomas and the other disciples were deeply wounded. They had given up everything to follow Jesus, they believed he was the messiah and the son of God, and they expected the kingdom of God to be revealed at any moment. But then their hopes, their dreams, and their beloved leader were killed, and their world ended.  Now the other disciples were telling Thomas that they had seen Jesus.  He was alive!  I'm sure Thomas wanted to believe.  He had heard Jesus say that if you destroy this temple in three days I will rebuild it.  But like I was with Marilyn, he was too wounded to believe, too wounded to make a step of faith. Jesus would have to meet him.  Jesus would have to show him the wounds in His feet and hands. It is only in the context of Thomas' woundedness that we can understand Thomas' doubts.

We all know people who for a variety of reasons are too wounded by life to hear and accept the good news of Jesus' resurrection.  For whatever reason they just can't put their faith in God.  And all of us know what it's like to be  wounded to the point where we can barely reach out to God. Sometimes we go through through seasons where we have to retreat from the church, and maybe even God, and tend our wounds.  And you know what?  That's okay. God understands. In fact, I believe that these seasons of pain and doubt are a key part of our faith journey. God's ways are hard sometimes. Very hard. Sometimes God wounds us almost to our breaking point.  And it is often at these times of doubt and darkness that God does his deepest work in us. God understands when we can't reach out.  God understands our wounded contexts. Just like with Thomas, Jesus will gladly show us his hands and feet.

One more story from my life.  My mom died last year, and in January we started to remodel her house so we could use it as a rental.  Her backyard was a mess, and my youngest son Joey and some others were cleaning things up outside. In early February Joey called me, and said, hey, we found something buried in your Mom's backyard.   What is it, I asked?  He said his friend found a hole, and there was a can in it, and there was something in the can. But his friend had found it, so Joey wasn't sure what it was.  As you can imagine, I found this news very exciting.  What treasure was buried in that can?  What gift had my mom or dad left me, knowing I would only find it after their deaths?  I am a Jungian oriented psychotherapist, and this archetypal symbolism of parental buried treasure was pure gold!  I had to get over there as soon as I could!  But, I was also hesitant, and a bit reluctant.  Was this too good to be true?  Though I felt like a kid on Christmas morning, I didn't want to get my hopes up, and I didn't want to be disappointed.  I would have to calmly wait and see what treasure was buried in that can. 

In context, I imagine Thomas must have felt the same way.  The other disciples were clearly very excited about having seen Jesus.  And Thomas knew the Old Testament prophecies, he had seen the miracles, and He believed Jesus was the messiah. But was this too good to be true?  Jesus had been betrayed, condemned to death, and then crucified.  Was it possible that this story might have a happy ending?  Was it really possible that the other disciples had seen Jesus alive?  Thomas was afraid to hope.  He didn't want to be disappointed. Again. He needed to see for himself. 

We know what this is like. Maybe we hear about someone who has been miraculously healed. We wonder, can this really be true? Could God do this for me?  Or maybe we hear about someone who has had a miraculous conversion to Christianity. We wonder, is it real? Will it last?  Is it too good to be true?  Or maybe a family member tells us that this time, it's going to be different. None of us want to be disappointed. We have all had our hopes raised, only to be dashed, and we don't want to go through that again. We understandably defend ourselves against disappointment. In context, I think this is what Thomas was doing.  When he said he needed to see the wounds in Jesus' feet and hands, he was saying he couldn't bear to be disappointed. 

So was Thomas flippant? Cynical? A man of little faith?  I don't think so.  Thomas was just like us.  He was honest with his doubts, He was wounded and didn't have the energy to believe, and he wanted to believe, but was afraid of being disappointed.  

So you're probably wondering, what treasure did I find in that can? You're curious, aren't you?  Well, for now, I'm not going to tell you. But hold that feeling of curiosity.  Because, in the context of of John's gospel, curiosity and anticipation are what Easter is all about.  Mary was curious about who moved the stone.  John and Peter were curious and filled with anticipation as they ran to the tomb to check out Mary's story. And I believe Thomas must have been beyond curious about whether the disciple's story of seeing Jesus alive was true.  Though he was wounded and didn't want to be disappointed, in every hour of every day, and every time he was in a room with the other disciples, he must have wondered if Jesus was going to show up.  And he did show up!  

We must never lose that feeling of curiosity and wonder. Curiosity and wonder are our Easter faith. When we have doubts, and when we are wounded and can't bear to be disappointed again, we must keep the flame of curiosity burning. When we have to back off and heal our wounds, we must keep anticipating what our next season will look like, and what God will do next. We must understand that Easter is not just something that happened two thousand years ago.  Easter is happening all the time. Jesus is coming alive in our hearts every day.  This is the faith of Doubting Thomas. This is the faith of the church.  And this is the faith that will set us free.

So let us never forget our contexts and the contexts of others, and when we are filled with doubt, and when we are locked up in fear of being disappointed again, tell Jesus you need to feel him and touch him.  He'll show up.  He always does.

Amen

By the way, there was candy in the can.