Saintly Sinners -- FPC sermon excerpt

Some of the greatest Christian art has been produced by really rotten Christians. You don’t need to be saintly to paint a saint.

In fact, writes journalist Elizabeth Lunday (mental_floss, September-October 2009), if you want a heavenly picture, it’s often best to hire a sinner.

Consider the depiction of St. Matthew by Michelangelo Merisi de Caravaggio. The apostle is shown in a dark and dirty Roman tavern, surrounded by low-lifes. That’s because Caravaggio spent plenty of time in these pubs himself, drinking and brawling. In the year 1606, this hot-tempered artist killed a Roman thug in a fight.

Or how about Rembrandt’s 1633 etching “The Good Samaritan”? It is on the cover of today’s bulletin. Take a look at it — it is so down-to-earth that it deserves a PG rating. Notice the dog in the foreground, relieving itself. And this is a story from the Bible!

Members of the Dutch Reformed Church loved Rembrandt’s realistic artwork, but they didn’t appreciate his relationships with women. He painted his wife Saskia as a prostitute in a tavern, sitting in the lap of one of Jesus’ characters, the prodigal son. After Saskia died, he became lovers with his housekeeper, and then left her for another servant, causing his housekeeper to take him to court. Messy, messy, messy.

Rembrandt lost the support of church members because of his behavior, and he died in poverty in 1669 — but not before he painted one of his greatest works¸ “Return of the Prodigal Son.” Like the sinful son in the parable, Rembrandt knew he needed forgiveness.

Then there’s Salvador Dali, the artist who created “The Sacrament of the Last Supper.” Although born to devout Catholic parents in Spain, he was an atheist who indulged every outlandish whim, including the throwing of orgies that he called “erotic Masses.” He returned to his Catholic roots after moving to the United States, but some questioned his sincerity. Dali may have been motivated more by money than by spirituality, bragging that postcards of his Last Supper sold more copies than all of the works of Leonardo da Vinci and Raphael combined.

These are all examples of great Christian art, produced by not-so-great Christian artists.

In Acts 9, a Pharisee named Saul is on the road to Damascus, and he is clearly no saint, “still breathing threats and murder against the disciples of the Lord” (v. 1). But Christ calls him and uses him to do great things — Jesus says that “he is an instrument whom I have chosen to bring my name before Gentiles and kings and before the people of Israel” (v. 15). Saul is “an instrument,” and Jesus is going to play him. Just as he plays Caravaggio, and Rembrandt, and Dali. Just as he plays you, and plays me. We are instruments.

One of the most amazing things about the grace of God is that it works through sinful human beings like ourselves. We are both saints and sinners, at the very same time; Martin Luther described us as simul justus et peccator — simultaneously righteous and sinful. This means that we do not achieve some kind of moral perfection before God begins to work through us; instead, God’s grace is doing great things while we are still struggling with sin. He paints truly beautiful pictures using people like ourselves, the saintly sinners of this world. We are his instruments — his paintbrushes — and he uses us to splash a wide range of colors on his canvas, including those hues that we might consider to be rather ugly.

Faith Creation -- FPC sermon excerpt

If you want better health, you’ve got to hop on a bike and pedal like crazy. I received a bike for my 50th birthday, and I’ve been riding hard on some nice long trips.

So biking is good for physical health. But what if you want stronger faith?

You should do the very same thing.

A man named Grant Harrison had a brainstorm one day, as he was working at the Innovation Center at the Humana health benefits company in Louisville. The Innovation Center is a think tank, so Harrison was … thinking. It was dawning on him that health-insurance companies need to change, that they cannot focus solely on health policy reform. Then the light-bulb went on in his head: Humana had to become “a health-creation company”!

Not health-insurance. Health-creation! And the goal had to be “to make fun things healthy.”

But how was he going to do it? The devil is always in the details.

Harrison thought of bicycles, and how they could become a healthy way for people to commute to work. “Fifty percent of people drive to work less than 5 miles in their cars,” he said to Fast Company magazine (September 2009). “They could be doing this on a bike. If somebody starts commuting this way, within a year, he or she will have lost 13 pounds on average.” Plus, “when you get people on two wheels, you unlock this feeling of being a kid again.”

He’s right. Biking to work and back is a good way to make fun things healthy.

So Harrison created a system at Humana called B-cycle — automated kiosks that let riders rent bikes. A quarter of Humana’s 10,000 employees signed up within the first six weeks. The next step is to bring 50,000 bikes to a dozen cities in the next three years.

B-cycle is a great example of health-creation. And it is fun as well, unlocking the feeling of being a kid again!

Churches, unfortunately, are sometimes viewed as divine insurance companies, providing protection against spiritual disaster and eternal damnation. You’ve probably seen the church sign that says, “The way some people live, they ought to obtain eternal fire insurance.”

But shouldn’t church be in the faith-creation business? When the risen Jesus appears to his followers in the Gospel of John, he doesn’t ask them to take out an insurance policy to provide protection in the afterlife. Instead, he says, “Peace be with you,” “I send you,” “Receive the Holy Spirit,” “Forgive sins,” and “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” Jesus comes back from the dead to do the work of faith-creation, so that his followers will move forward as strong, healthy, and vigorous disciples.

He gives them a bicycle — or maybe a faith-cycle — and sends them out, saying, “Hop on and ride!”

Don't say "social justice" -- USA TODAY, April 5, 2010

Sunday's Easter celebration provided the bookend to Holy Week, the most sacred but spiritually divisive week of the year. We Christians use this time to focus on the suffering, death and resurrection of Jesus — the one we believe to be the Messiah and son of God. This uniquely Christian belief perplexes not only atheists, but fellow people of faith as well.

At the same time, Jews began their celebration of Passover with a place at the table for the prophet Elijah, the precursor of their still-to-come Messiah.

Muslims gathered for prayer this past Friday, but they did not focus on the cross. In their beliefs, Jesus was neither killed nor crucified, but was raised directly to heaven.

I don't point out these differences in some effort to find a theological common ground. But what's critical for people of these three faiths — or of no faith — to understand is that a lack of doctrinal agreement does not mean that Muslims, Christians, Jews and anyone else cannot work together to advance human causes.

Politics and pastors

Across the country, in fact, the most exciting and productive interfaith efforts involve articulating differences and finding ways to join forces on social issues. Such work is not controversial in my clergy circles, but it inflames the Glenn Becks of the world who say that "social justice" and "economic justice" are code words for communism. Even in local congregations, parishioners accuse pastors of being "too political" when they take action on immigration, housing or health care.

But Beck is right that there is a reluctance among Americans to mix politics and religion. According to surveys by the Pew Research Center, Americans of late have had a change of heart. In 1996, 54% of the public felt that churches should express their views about social and political matters. By 2008, only 45% believed so while a majority — 52% — said churches should keep out of politics. This reticence is understandable when one sees the way politicians use faith, or religions play the game of politics. But religions have a long tradition of uplifting those in need, and we cannot let cynicism keep us from doing what God demands.

In Northern Virginia, an interfaith organization called Virginians Organized for Interfaith Community Engagement (VOICE) is working to preserve affordable housing, increase dental care for the poor and help immigrants. Made up of clergy and laypeople from 45 congregations, this multifaith group speaks with one voice to political leaders while advocating for the homeless and the working poor.

As a Christian leader in VOICE, I accept the fact that the rabbis and imams in the group will not agree with me on the divinity of Jesus. But we are united in our conviction that county and state budgets should not be balanced on the backs of the poor. We pray as individuals but lobby as one.

And then there's Eboo Patel, a Muslim who grew up in the Chicago area. At age 22, he founded the Interfaith Youth Core, a movement that focuses on service and cooperation. This decade-old group contains orthodox believers from a variety of traditions, with wildly divergent theologies. But they are united in their commitment to service — for example, mobilizing tens of thousands of young people to help combat malaria in Africa.

VOICE and Patel's Interfaith Youth Core are but two examples of what I hope will become a trend in religious America, where diversity of faith becomes a strength — just as diversity of color has.

Crossing the minefield

The challenge for religious leaders is to work for change in a non-partisan way, navigating the no-man's land between the extreme right and the far left — and between Republicans and Democrats. It's a minefield, because when clergy work to secure funding for free dental clinics and affordable housing, they run into conservatives who want lower taxes and smaller government. Yet when clergy take action to move parishioners through the current immigration system, they face criticism from progressives who insist on amnesty for millions of illegal immigrants. Because congregations are intimately involved with the poor, interfaith action will always be focused on issues of social justice — or if those two words offend, let's go with the less-controversial "uplifting the needy." But clergy and laypeople know how difficult — and even dangerous this work can be. The Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. gave his life for this cause.

And Jesus? He was nailed to the cross because he was considered to be a political — not theological — threat to the power of Rome. That's a Holy Week message that all faiths can embrace.

Henry G. Brinton is pastor of Fairfax Presbyterian Church in Virginia and author of Balancing Acts: Obligation, Liberation, and Contemporary Christian Conflicts.

He is not here -- FPC sermon excerpt

If you want to win a Peeps contest, stay away from the empty tomb.

What’s a “Peeps contest,” you ask? If you opened The Washington Post this morning, you know what I am talking about.

Peeps are fluffy chicks and bunnies, made of marshmallow. They appear in the candy section of the grocery store each spring before Easter. Every year, The Post has a Peeps contest, inviting readers to create a diorama of a famous scene from history, pop culture, or current events, using Peeps chicks and bunnies as characters. The winners are announced on Easter Sunday.

Last year, there were over 1,100 gooey submissions:

- There was a scene of a line of Peeps standing on the wings of a US Airways plane in the Hudson River.
- There were Peeps attending the inauguration of President Barack Obama.
- There were Peeps winning gold medals at the Olympics.
- There was a scene from the movie Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Peep Street. Get it, “Peep Street”?
- There were Peeps standing in line to get into the hot DC bakery, Georgetown Cupcake. It was, of course, called Peeptown Cupcake.
- There was a display of Steve Jobs of Apple presenting the new iPeep Nano.
- And there was a monster movie called Peepzilla!, created by the Krupka family of Fairfax. They ingeniously combined multiple Peeps into a giant monster. Go Fairfax!

So why would I recommend that you not use the empty tomb as your Peeps contest entry?

Because there is nothing there. The Easter diorama is an empty box.

The Gospel of Luke tells the story of the resurrection in a way that leaves Jesus completely out of the picture. On the first day of the week, at early dawn, a group of women come to the tomb, taking the spices that they had prepared to anoint the body of Jesus for final burial.

The door to the diorama is wide open, with the stone rolled away from the tomb, and when they go inside they discover that the body is missing. They are perplexed, and suddenly two men in dazzling clothes stand beside them — shocking and terrifying them.

But the mystery men try to bring them up to speed, saying, “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen” (Luke 24:5).

He is not here. That’s a surprising message, isn’t it? It’s not really very satisfying, in and of itself. Think of making an appointment with a doctor or a lawyer, and after rushing to be at the office on time, you are told by the receptionist, “He is not here.” Imagine going to the White House, expecting to see the President, and when you get there, the Secret Service says, “He is not here.”

How much more satisfying it would be for Jesus to be standing inside the empty tomb, in all of his resurrected glory, announcing, “Here I am. I have been raised!”

But Easter reminds us that the resurrection is more about Jesus than it is about us. “Remember how he told you,” say the mystery men, “while he was still in Galilee, that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners, and be crucified, and on the third day rise again” (vv. 6-7). Jesus knew that he must be handed over and crucified, before being raised from the dead. This was his mission, his destiny, his role in God’s plan.