Romans 5:1-5
May 26, 2013/Trinity Sunday
The Ethics
course that I taught at the Community College in Iowa was considered a survey
course. What that meant was that I
taught a whole variety of ethical theories and perspectives so the students
would come out of the course with a broad view of ethics and ethical
understandings.
One
of the perspectives that we touched on, briefly, was Stoicism. It was taught alongside Aristotelian ethics
and Hedonism. There was an analogy about
Stoicism that I made my students learn each semester. It was that of a dog tied behind a moving
cart. The Stoics worldview was that the
universe was the moving cart and humanity the dog. If the dog resisted the moving cart, or
struggled or balked or tried to stay still, the dog would suffer. If the dog chewed at the rope or tried to go
a different way, the dog would suffer.
But if the dog trusted that the cart was moving in the direction it was
supposed to and just followed along, then it would be all right. The cart might take the dog through times of
suffering, but resisting the cart made the suffering far worse. The Stoics believed that following behind the cart without resistance
was the best way to, if not avoid, than at least minimize suffering.
It's
a great analogy. Unless you're actually
in the midst of suffering, then I'm not sure it works so well. I don't think I would make a good stoic. I would be the dog who not only resists the
rope and the cart but would have to be dragged behind it. Because let's face it, suffering stinks. It has been horrendous this past week seeing
the suffering in our community and in the community of Moore.
While
it has been heartbreaking watching all of this unfold on television, I can only
imagine how awful it has been for those who are on the ground in the midst of
it. Suffering stinks. It's terrible. I don't believe that any of us want to
suffer, any more than I believe God causes it.
Suffering stinks.
Paul
would have been well acquainted with the Stoics point of view. You don't expect too much because that might
produce hope and "hope disappoints."
You just follow along behind the cart and try not to resist the
rope. But Paul seemed to see suffering
differently. I don't think that he was
trying to promote suffering, as this passage has sometimes been
interpreted. When Paul writes about
boasting in suffering, I'm not convinced that he meant that as a call to seek
out suffering solely for the purpose of building endurance to grow character to
embrace hope. I think, instead, that
Paul realized that we are not alone in our suffering. God is there with us. As Dr. David Lose wrote this week in his
Working Preacher column, Paul's particular lens for seeing the world and seeing
suffering in it was shaped by the cross.
The
real human being, Jesus of Nazareth, suffered.
The divine being, Jesus the Christ, suffered. When we suffer we are not alone. God is with us. God is in the midst of it. God is made visible in all of the hands and
all of the faces that reach out to help after disasters like the ones
Oklahomans have suffered this week. God
is in the midst of the quieter suffering that people endure as well. God is with us in the daily trials and
tribulations that we all endure. God is
in the midst of it.
The
difficulty comes in the midst of it. It
seems to me that when we're in the midst of suffering, recognizing God is the
hardest thing to do. Maybe I'm wrong,
but I wouldn't be surprised if the people who lost loved ones this past week
are struggling to see God in all of this.
If I were one of them, I would be.
So it's up to the rest of us to continue to show them that God is with
them through our love for them. It's up
to the rest of us to be the hands of God for them.
Today is Trinity Sunday. If Pentecost is one of my favorite Sundays of the year, then Trinity Sunday is my least favorite. It's not that I don't appreciate the Trinity; it's that it's not an easily or satisfactorily explainable doctrine. As I may have said to you all before my dear and wonderful Church History professor, Rebecca Weaver, told us never to fall back on the words, "it's a mystery" when it came to the Trinity. There are ways to talk about it, ways to make it meaningful if not completely understood.
Today is Trinity Sunday. If Pentecost is one of my favorite Sundays of the year, then Trinity Sunday is my least favorite. It's not that I don't appreciate the Trinity; it's that it's not an easily or satisfactorily explainable doctrine. As I may have said to you all before my dear and wonderful Church History professor, Rebecca Weaver, told us never to fall back on the words, "it's a mystery" when it came to the Trinity. There are ways to talk about it, ways to make it meaningful if not completely understood.
If
there is anything that I grasp about the Trinity it is this. The Trinity is God in relationship. The
nature of God is relationship, and that relationship models for us what it
means to be in relationship, in community.
I think it is in times like these when we fully reflect that model of
relationship. We reach out, we care, we
help, we comfort, we work to restore and rebuild. I've seen that kind of relationship, that
kind of community, at work this past week.
And I know that it will continue in the weeks and months ahead.
All
of this great, but it doesn't change or minimize the reality that suffering
stinks. And we are in a time where there
is great suffering. Even if the
tornadoes hadn't happened, there would still be great suffering all around us;
suffering of poverty and abuse and broken relationship. Suffering stinks. And we desperately need a word of hope.
Yet
when the present is this difficult, trying to hope for the future seems almost
impossible. So I think that sometimes
the way we find hope in the present is by remembering the past. I told you once that I trust God in
memory. I look back over my life and I
see how God has worked. I didn't always
recognize God's presence at the time, but looking back I realize how fully God
was with me. So I trust that memory and
I trust that God is with me now, even if I can't see or feel God's presence in
the moment. Perhaps that is how hope
works. We hope for the future because we
recognize that God was with us in the past.
Think
back over your own life. Think back to
the times when you've suffered, hurt, when you felt lost or alone. Can you see now that God was with you? Can you see how even in suffering some good
came from it? I will never proclaim that
God causes suffering, but looking back I can see how diligently God worked to
pull good out of suffering.
Writer,
pastor, preacher Frederick Buechner wrote these words about hope in a sermon
entitled, A Room Called Remember.
"Then
at last we see what hope is and where it comes from, hope as the driving power
and outermost edge of faith. Hope stands up to its knees in the past and keeps
its eyes on the future. There has never been a time past when God wasn't with
us as the strength beyond our strength, the wisdom beyond our wisdom, as
whatever it is in our hearts--whether we believe in God or not--that keeps us
human enough at least to get by despite everything in our lives that tends to
wither the heart and make us less than human."
"Hope
stands up to its knees in the past and keeps its eyes on the future."
Paul
saw human suffering through the lens of Christ on the cross. God suffered and God suffered
profoundly. This does not diminish our
suffering, but provides us with the assurance that even as we suffer God is
with us. Even as we suffer, we trust
that something more, something beyond our present reality, beyond our
understanding is coming from our suffering.
Suffering produces endurance.
Endurance produces character.
Character produces hope and hope does not disappoint. Remember, as best as we can, that God is with
us and let us hope. The past, present
and future are God’s
and so are we. Let all God's children
say, "Amen."
Amy Lou, (in case you haven't read it yet), Tom Wolfe's novel "A Man in Full" has a very interesting portrait of a modern Stoic -- of a character who makes sense of his tragic and absurd predicament and finds a satisfactory pattern of behaviour for himself by reading Epictetus, all on his own without instruction. Part of the comedy is that the people he encounters are completely flabbergasted by this turn of events. Highly recommended!
ReplyDeleteThank you for the recommendation. I haven't read it, but it's going on my to-read list. I appreciate your comment.
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