Politics, Salvation and the Kingdom, 4
The Rev. Mark Sherwindt, Pastor
Zion Evangelical Lutheran Church
Easter 6: April 27, 2008
Now all the Athenians and the foreigners who lived in Athens spent their time in nothing except telling or hearing something new. So Paul, standing in the middle of the Areopagus, said: Men of Athens, I perceive that in every way you are very religious. For as I passed along, and observed the objects of your worship, I found also an altar with this inscription, 'To an unknown god.' What therefore you worship as unknown, this I proclaim to you. [Acts 17:21-23]
It's been an ongoing news story for quite some time, and regardless of whether the news is generally encouraging or downright depressing, most folks are pretty much in agreement that Iraq is a mess. Don't get me wrong. It was a mess long before we arrived, and it doesn't look like it's going to be clearing up any time soon. Some days, it's the usual line of Sunnis killing Shiites, or Shiites killing Sunnis. But other days it's Shiites killing Shiites, with one sect attacking another sect, or religious militia attacking secular Iraqis, or local Sunnis attacking foreign fighters. And then, there are the Kurds, and the Turks, and fringe groups galore, all with a penchant for fanaticism, and without much tolerance for folks who are different, whether we're talking religiously, or tribally, ethnically, ethically, or even politically. Many of us are wondering why folks can't just back off for a moment, and stop pouring gasoline on the sparks flying from the tensions that come from these differences. Folks need to reacquaint themselves with the courtesies that arise from trying not to offend folks who are different from us.
I know that for my part, for instance, whenever I am in a group where representatives from the Jewish faith are present, as with the Benefit Concert for Steve Dague, I try to make use of images of God that we share, whether it's God as Gracious Lord and Heavenly Father, or as Mighty God and Creator, or as the Great Shepherd who is known for his steadfast love and faithfulness. I know that it's not much, nothing more that the ordinary courtesy of refraining from the urge to highlight differences. In moving from the Green Book to the Blue Book, and now to the Red Book (that many of us have not yet seen), Lutherans continue to reach for language that can avoid needlessly offending others. When it comes to formulations of the Trinity, for example, we have tried to move away from models of male hierarchy to gender neutral language, referring to God as Creator, Redeemer and Sustainer rather than the Father, Son and Spirit. Again, it's not much, and can be accomplished without leaving offense when none is intended. Sure, we don't want to compromise essentials; but if we can avoid offending others when that's not our intention, shouldn't we make the minimal effort to do so?
Again, it's simply called common courtesy. It's all a part of our lifelong journey of learning how to get along with one another. Tolerance and humility are key virtues. In a sense, that's what the Greeks were trying to do in Athens. They knew the names of many gods, representing their own and other cultures, too. Zeus and Jupiter, Mercury and Apollo, Baal and Ishtaar, the names were many, representing the many tribes and cultures that the Romans were trying to get to live under the umbrella of their peace, called the Pax Romana. They knew that they couldn't anticipate all the strangers that would pass through their cities. So, they left room in the public square for gods not previously identified by name. It was all done in the name of inclusion and tolerance. It was the strength of paganism in the ancient world, making room for diversity through inclusion, rather than going the route of seeking a heavy handed unity through some sort of strictly enforced uniformity.
In that world, Judaism and Christianity were uncompromising thorns in the side of those looking to make room for the diversity of religious beliefs. According to Jews and Christians, there was one God, not many, and one way to God, not any which way. That was the meaning of Jesus' conversation with Thomas last week. I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except by me. (John 14:6) I often read this passage at funeral services, leaving out the second part of the verse, because they seem like fightin' words. They raise the classic battle between monotheism and polytheism, between the jealous God of Judaism and many gods of polytheism, between the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the gods worshipped by the many religions of the world. This is precisely what makes our First Lesson both interesting and ironic. It is ironic because there was an altar to an unknown God precisely to make room for strangers like Paul who wanted to worship their own God, not otherwise known or previously named at the other shrines that filled the public square in ancient cities. Paul now names that God with the name of a God that does not need, does not require, and does not allow the whole umbrella notion that there are many gods, or that all religions have equal claim to our courtesy and respect. Tolerance of many gods among Christians and Jews? Not a chance! Open-minded embrace of religious diversity? No way! There is one way, not many; and that way is through the God Paul names as Jesus.
I know that the news in Iraq has little to do with the dynamics present in the public square in Athens. The issue of violence so prevalent in Iraq is not at all at stake in Acts. I also know that common courtesies that display humility and tolerance are hardly the answer to the militant fanaticism that is tearing Iraqi society apart. On the other hand, there probably is something to the ongoing cultural clash pitting Western culture's drive for tolerance of diversity and this Middle Eastern resistance to efforts that would dilute the radical claims of an uncompromising deity. Christianity, of course, was a part of that Middle Eastern resistance; but even in this regard it is important to remember that Christianity pursued its uncompromising monotheistic aims without appeal to a use of violent force or political power or governmental policy, for the first two-and-a-half centuries of its history. That is interesting, in and of itself. In fact, it magnifies the miracle of Christianity's emergence from nowhere to prominence everywhere. It means that Christianity's influence spread solely through the power of its preaching about God's grace, Christ's love, and the Spirit's power to transform ordinary folks into the sociological miracle we call the church. Its sister religions cannot make this claim. Judaism and Islam have different origins. Israel's taking hold of the promised land proceeded hand-in-hand with stories of divine intervention through violent force. Islam arrived on the scene when Christianity had already found itself entrenched in the dominant political class and aligned with the expanding presence of Roman rule. Of course, this happened without Christians seeking the power and influence they came to enjoy, without their fighting for it, and certainly without their killing for it. In a sense, Islam emerged as a desert movement designed to resist the rolling tide of Roman rule and Christian influence. But that's a different lecture unrelated to today's sermon.
I just think it's interesting that Paul, who seems like a nice enough chap just wanting to talk to Athenians about Jesus, was not at all naive about his intentions in making use of what Greeks and Romans regarded as paganism's greatest strength, namely, making room for everyone's gods, even those that hadn't yet had a chance to be acknowledged formally with a shrine in their name. Paul turned this tolerance against his hosts, and argued that the system that made room for him actually denied the very nature of serious claims to truth, which ultimately is what religion is about. God draws a line - whether it is in the sands of a Middle Eastern desert, or expressed through the exclusive claims of a jealous God, or simply claimed to be the nature of the case that there must be only one, true God. Israel never had enough power to enforce its insistence on one true God. In two-hundred-and-fifty years, that public square in Athens would have to be remodeled and revamped to reflect the new political reality that arose with Christian prominence, when that small shrine to an unnamed god found a name, a name that was above every other name, that at the name of Jesus, every knee should bow and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father. (Phil. 2:10)
We are not going to replay that history, but that is the point that we sang with the hymn All Hail the Power of Jesus' Name, and celebrated with the hymn May Jesus Christ Be Praised. These are great hymns that tell the story of Paul's confidence in naming the altar to the unknown god with the name of Jesus. Paul had some simple ways of expressing the glory of the name that had an exclusive claim to Lordship. But whether our confession of faith follows Paul's simpler expression like Jesus is Lord, or the more complicated formulations of our Nicene Creed, which says that Jesus is God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God, the point is the same: Let ev'ry kindred and ev'ry tribe on this terrestrial ball to him all majesty ascribe, and crown him Lord of all. (LBW #328, verse 6) The truth is that God is not like a commodity we can value or choose, like gold or silver, nor is God a matter of personal preference or individual choice. God is God, regardless of our choice, and in Jesus we find a God who has found us, a God who has chosen to love us as His own, and to enlist us in the cause of His kingdom so that we might spread this Good News about the one, true God. That's the God we are called to worship, and that's the God we worship today in Jesus' name. Amen