Paradoxes of Faith

A sermon delivered by Rev. Dr. Randy K. Hammer, February 17, 2019

Mark 9:33-37; 1 Corinthians 1:18-20; Matthew 20:26-28 GNT

The Christian religion by its very nature at times can be paradoxical.  That is to say, Christianity from its inception just after the death of Jesus, and Christian faith as a way of life, exhibit contradictory aspects and sometimes conflict with expectations or common sense.

For instance, the chief symbol of the Christian faith itself – the cross – in itself presents a paradox, as the Apostle Paul pointed out to the Corinthian Christians.  Crucifixion upon a cross was a primary means of punishment, torture, and death employed by the mighty Roman Empire.  It has been said that thousands of trouble-makers, would-be insurrectionists, and enemies of Rome suffered the horrible death of crucifixion.  The cross was a symbol of imperial power and control. 

So how was it that this horrible instrument of torture and death that served as a constant threat to any who might get crossways with Rome ended up becoming the beloved icon and symbol of the Christian faith to such an extent that millions proudly wear it around their necks as gold jewelry or as earrings dangling from their ears, or display it as photographs or artwork adorning the walls of their homes?  Sometimes we even see movie stars and rock stars donning cross jewelry or cross tatooes, with the implication that it is the fashionable thing to do.

To much of the world, Paul pointed out, the cross was considered nonsense, foolishness.  And yet, the early Christians were able to flip the thinking of the world upside down by taking a symbol of the worst evil the world had to offer and instilling it with divine hope and promise.  As comparative religion expert, Joseph Campbell puts it, the cross came to symbolize “God’s presence and participation in the agony of all living things” (The Power of Myth, 116).  But how could that be, considering the cross’s origin?  It is a paradox.

And then there is the name “Christian” itself.  In the beginning, you know, the name Christian was sometimes intended to be a derogatory designation for those deemed to be “heretical” followers of Jesus.  Indeed, in the Apostle Paul’s defense before King Agrippa (after he was arrested, as Luke records it in Acts), we likely detect a bit of sarcasm when Agrippa says to Paul, “do you think you will make me a Christian?” (Acts 26:28 GNT).  (As a side note, the names “Lutheran” and “Quaker” likewise started out as derogatory names for the followers of reformer Martin Luther and Friends founder George Fox.)  But regarding the name “Christian,” which was often uttered in derision, today some 2.3 billion people around the world proudly claim the name “Christian,” which from the beginning was not always a popular name to bear.  It is a paradox.

And Jesus, in the course of his teachings, presented a number of paradoxes for any and all who would seek to follow him.  As today’s gospel readings relate, if we want to be great according to God’s standard, or according Jesus’ playbook, then we should seek to be a servant to others.  Greatness is achieved, not by the one who accumulates the most wealth or financial holdings, not necessarily by the one who rises to great fame, not necessarily by the one who is afforded the greatest position of power or best position of leadership (as the disciples were said to be arguing over among themselves).  But true greatness is revealed in the lives of those who give themselves in service to others and make a positive difference in the world and leave the world a better place because they passed through it. 

Where might true greatness be seen in America today?  Some would say not in most of what we see going on in our nation’s capital.  Certainly not in the images of the rich and famous whose pictures grace the gossip tabloids.  If you ask me to cite an example of true greatness today, I might direct you to the life, service, and work of former President Jimmy Carter.  Carter gives much of his time to building houses for the poor through Habitat for Humanity and works as an advocate for peace, human rights, and democracy around the world.  He is still active in spite of the fact that he is in his 90’s and suffered a life-threatening brain tumor.  And I am told that Jimmy and Rosalynn still live in a simple, small two-bedroom house in Plains, Georgia.  Would you care to guess how many Habitat for Humanity houses Jimmy Carter and his wife Rosalynn have worked on to date?  AS of 2018, the Jimmy & Rosalynn Carter Work Project has helped more than 4,300 families move into safe, affordable housing.  That, I contend, is an example of true greatness, according to the standard outlined by Jesus. “If one of you wants to be great, you must be the servant of the rest,” Jesus advises (Matthew 20:26).  But by the same token, we cannot set out to be a servant of all as a means to achieving greatness or with greatness as the end goal in mind.  It is a paradox.

If we want to “get with the program,” according to Jesus, then we need to learn how to love our enemies and forgive those who do us wrong.  But doing such is contrary to human nature and human desire.  It is much easier to harbor a grudge than it is to extend forgiveness.  And down deep inside, we may not really want to forgive those who we feel have done us great wrong. 

And there are those who contend, and rightly so, that to insist that everyone should be quick to forgive those who have done them great wrong can be insensitive and irresponsible.  For instance, I have concluded that it is not my place to tell a victim of domestic violence who was been repeatedly emotionally and physically abused by her husband that she should quickly forgive him and forget.  I have concluded that it is not my place to tell a Holocaust survivor that he should quickly forgive his Nazi captors.  And I have concluded that it is not my place to tell the parents of a teenager who was kidnapped and killed by a sexual predator that they should quickly forgive her assailant.  I realize, understand, and readily admit that I have no right to counsel such that they should be quick to forgive and forget.  And yet, in a number of places Jesus instructs his followers to love your enemies and forgive those who mistreat you (Matthew 6:14-15).  It is a paradox.

For some, religion or faith should mean a way of certainty.  There should be no gray areas; everything should be clearly black and white.  And some people don’t do well with uncertainty and ambiguity.  Many people need structure and clearly-defined rules.  And their personalities make no room for contradiction, conflicting ideas, or paradoxes.

But I have come to accept that faith – and especially Christian faith – by its very nature can be contradictory; faith can hold some uncertainly, and it is built on paradoxes.  Or to put it another way, Christian faith might be seen as a dance or a tangle between faith and doubt.  Throughout our Christian lives we may go back and forth between strong faith and wavering doubt.  We may sometimes feel like the father of the sick child who was having fits and convulsions who asked Jesus to have compassion and help them.  Jesus said to the father, “If you can believe.”  And the father said in reply, “Lord, I believe; [but] help my unbelief!” (Mark 9:23-24 NKJV).  Have you ever felt that way?

We may swing back and forth between altruistic service to others and wanting to look out for number one; back and forth between the desire to forgive those who have wronged us and an I’m not ready to let go and forgive attitude.  We may dance back and forth between believing the pragmatic stance much of the year that when you’re dead, you’re dead, but then on Easter Sunday we may embrace the belief that Christ lives again and so shall I!

I think that many of us may have come to accept the paradoxical nature faith, belief, and practice to such an extent that we no longer even think about it.  Perhaps the important thing is we keep ourselves open, and admit to ourselves that faith at times can be a struggle, and that we commit ourselves to continuing to wrestle with the doubts, questions, contradictions, and paradoxes of faith.

To quote Joseph Campbell again, “When we quit thinking primarily about ourselves and our own self-preservation, we undergo a truly heroic transformation of consciousness” (The Power of Myth, 126).  But isn’t that what Christianity is all about at its core anyway – a transformation of consciousness?  An openness, a willingness to try to see things in a new, hopeful light, and a willingness and desire to let ourselves be changed for the better?  That, perhaps, it true greatness – the willingness to let ourselves be changed for the better.  May it be so.  Amen.

Cited: Joseph Campbell, The Power of Myth: with Bill Moyers.  New York: Doubleday, 1988.