Austin | Purple Theology

Recap For a quick recap, we’re in the third week of our series called War & Peace, a series where we’re trying to figure out what the Bible has to say about matters of violence and conflict and hostility and justice and forgiveness. And what we’ve learned so far is this. The very first and last thing the Bible has to say about war and peace is peace. Violence was not in the beginning and it won’t be in the end, because while we find violence fascinating, God doesn’t, and while we find peace naïve and boring, God doesn’t. That said, we live in a world filled with war and violence and faced with such a world, God’s peace moves forward by forgiveness instead of vengeance because God’s goal is not revenge but reconciliation. And it’s almost impossible to properly emphasize just how radical a thing this is—that Christians believe in a God who would rather die for his enemies than give them what they deserve. That Christians believe in a God who desires to embrace his enemies in the arms of forgiveness. And while that’s the most beautiful thing any of us could ever hear, here’s where it gets hard. Christians are not just called to accept God’s peace and forgiveness—we’re called to practice it, we’re called to embody it, we’re called to be a community that lives out God’s peace and forgiveness right smack dab in the middle of our families and our workplaces and our towns and our nations. Last week, we talked about what God’s peace does when confronted with a world at war, and so this week we have to talk about how we (the church) practice God’s peace in a world at war. The Sunflower During WW2, Simon Wiesenthal was a Jewish inmate at a concentration camp in Poland when he was asked to do the unthinkable. He was led down a hallway and brought to a room where a young Nazi soldier was dying. And in the moments before his death, this Nazi soldier wanted to confess his sins and receive forgiveness from a Jew. And so as Simon stood at the bed of this soldier, the soldier started confessing his shame at being a Nazi and admitted he’d been a part of a group that had rounded up hundreds of Jews into a house and then set it on fire, burning them all alive. And as Simon listens to the confession, he’s moved by the soldier’s grief and shame but sickened and repulsed by the things he’s done. So Simon listens in silence to the confession and when the soldier finishes, Simon walks away without saying a word—certainly not a word of forgiveness. Years later, Simon wrote a book called The Sunflower where he tells this story and then ends by asking the question: what would you have done? I’d like us to take up Simon’s challenging, troubling question this morning and think about it as the church, as a community of people who follow Jesus: what should we have done? We’re going to use two important texts from Matthew to help us move toward an answer: Matthew 18:21-22, 5:43-48. Matthew 18:21-22…70 x 7 So Peter comes up to Jesus and asks him, “Jesus, how often should I forgive one of my brothers when he sins against me? Should I forgive him as many as seven times?” Peter clearly thinks he’s made a very generous proposal, and I have to agree—I mean, forgiving somebody seven times is a lot, isn’t it? Can you imagine forgiving your spouse seven times for cheating on you? Can you imagine forgiving your buddy seven times for roundhouse kicking you in the face? Both of those things would be hard for me, so I think Peter is being awfully generous. And yet Jesus has other ideas, so he says, “Actually Peter, you shouldn’t just be willing to forgive somebody seven times but seventy-seven times.” Jesus is alluding to Genesis 4:24, where Cain’s great, great, great, great, great grandson, Lamech, brags to his wives that if anybody messes with him, he will seek 77-fold vengeance upon them. If you roundhouse kick Lamech in the face, he would roundhouse kick you back 77 times. Jesus’ point here is clear. Our capacity for forgiveness toward each other (in the church) must be deeper than even the world’s capacity for vengeance. Do you have any idea how deep the world’s capacity for vengeance is? How far people will go to seek revenge? Of course we do, because we’ve felt it—that primal, gut reaction of rage that wants to track down our enemy to the ends of the earth to get them back. Yes, we know the world’s capacity for vengeance, which is why we’re shocked and stunned when Jesus says we’re supposed to be more serious about forgiving than Liam Neeson is about revenge. We’re called to be better at forgiveness than the world is at vengeance. In the church, forgiveness is willing to move toward infinity. And now Matthew 5:43-48. Matthew 5:43-48…Love Your Enemies So as if having a capacity for forgiveness within the church that moves toward infinity is not enough, now we have to deal with this—a teaching from Jesus that seems so ridiculous and impossible that Christians have been trying to explain it away for 2000 years. What Jesus says is really clear. You’ve been told...

War & Peace: The Problem with Nuremburg

By Austin on Nov 11, 2014

So we’re in the second week of our series called “War & Peace” and the question that is driving the whole series, the question that we’re all wrestling with for the next month, is this: when it comes to war and peace—to conflict and violence and hostility and justice and forgiveness—what sort of story does Christianity tell? Over and against everything the world has to say, what does the Bible have to say about war and peace? And so last week we started that conversation with this: the very first and last thing the Bible has to say about war and peace, is peace. Period. Violence was not in the beginning and it will not be in the end. We find violence fascinating, but God doesn’t. We find peace boring and naïve, but God doesn’t. The universe has always, does always, and will always revolve around the wild and unpredictable peace of God. That said, we live in a world that sure does seem to revolve around violence. So how do we explain that? And perhaps more importantly, what does God’s peace do when it’s confronted with a world at war? Let’s turn to Genesis 3 and we’ll read 3:22-4:16. East of Eden Genesis 3 and 4 tell us the story of how God’s world of peace becomes a world at war. Adam and Eve have been cast out of the garden and they travel east of Eden—that’s an important phrase. In the Bible, to move east of Eden is to move away from God. Humanity has moved east of Eden, and the very first thing that happens is this. Adam and Eve have two sons, Cain and Abel. And if Adam and Eve are the primal, archetypal husband and wife, Cain and Abel are the primal, archetypal brothers. Cain is the firstborn and he’s a farmer. Abel is the younger and he’s a shepherd. And one day they bring their offerings to God, and for some reason, God accepts Abel’s offering and reject’s Cain’s. This rejection makes Cain very angry—with God and with Abel—and what happens next will reverberate down the halls of history. Faced with conflict and needing to resolve it, needing to find a way forward, Cain sacrifices Abel. In order to secure his own future, Cain takes somebody else’s blood. Cain lures Abel out into a lonely field and murders him. And immediately, God’s ears are filled with a terrible sound, a sound he’s never heard before. It’s the sound of Abel’s blood, crying out from the ground—and it cries out for vengeance. So God marks Cain and sends him even further east of Eden and in the stories that follow, more and more blood is shed, and more and more vengeance is called for. And we’re left wondering: how is God going to deal with the world’s cry for vengeance and justice? Nuremburg The courthouse in Nuremburg, Germany is sight of the most famous trials of the 20th century. In the aftermath of WW2 and the fall of the Nazi regime, it was clear to the world that justice had to be served for the atrocities of the Holocaust. The blood of many Abels, millions of Jewish men, women, and children cried out for justice. Even now, so many years later, our hearts can hardly bear to hear the stories of the gas chambers and death marches and grotesque experiments. And so faced with so much spilt blood, the Allies dealt with the cry for justice with Nuremburg, a series of trials where prominent Nazi leaders were tried and given a punishment that fit the crime—a number were sentenced to life in prison and twelve were sentenced to death by hanging. And I don’t know about you, but few things bring me more satisfaction than seeing justice served by revenge and retribution. When I see pictures of a pile of shoes a mile high—shoes stolen from the feet of Jewish victims—and I think about all the little bitty shoes that are in that pile, there is nothing I’d like more than to tie the noose around the neck of every single person responsible. Because that’s what they deserve. Just a few months ago, three teenagers were arrested in New Mexico for beating two homeless men to death. When asked why they did it, they answered that they were bored and one of them was angry about a break-up with his girlfriend. They beat two homeless human beings to death because they didn’t have anything better to do. And so help me God, when I hear stories like that, everything in me calls for Nuremburg—for justice via revenge and retribution. I can think of nothing more just than spilling the blood of someone who has spilt somebody else’s blood. I like Nuremburg. I like giving people what they deserve. I like justice by means of revenge and retribution. But here’s the problem with Nuremburg. You Are the Man! In 2 Samuel, we’re told the sickening story of David and Bathsheba. King David sees Bathsheba, the wife of another man, bathing, and lusts after her, has sex with her, gets her pregnant, and to avoid a scandal has her husband (Uriah) murdered. And David thinks he has gotten away with it. Time passes when one day a wild, old prophet named Nathan comes knocking...

War & Peace: The Oldest Story of All?

By Austin on Nov 4, 2014

Here’s the first sermon in our new series, “War & Peace” Light Versus Dark Perhaps the best new TV series to come out last year was True Detective; a brooding, dark drama starring Matthew McConnaughey and Woody Harrelson as Rust and Marty, two detectives working a particularly sinister and perplexing murder case. And in the very last scene of the very last episode, Rust and Marty gaze up at the night sky. They’ve solved the case, but they’ve seen some terrible things. They’ve had to do some terrible things. And as they stare up at the sky, at a vast sea of dark speckled by small islands of light, Rust makes a simple but profound observation: when it really comes down to it, all of life is just one story…the oldest story of all—light versus dark. Now to be sure, life can be unpredictable—constantly changing, constantly moving, never at rest. And yet it seems that every change and movement is really just a fresh reenactment of the oldest story of all—light versus dark. Or to borrow the title of Leo Tolstoy’s famous book: if there is one story that the world is always telling, it’s the story of war and peace. War and Peace Just look at the world news from any time and place (be it on an IPad, a newspaper, a smoke signal, a cuneiform tablet, or a scribbling on a caveman’s wall) and what will you find? Stories of the battle between war and peace. Turn on the local news in any town, and what will you find? Stories of the battle between war and peace. Eavesdrop on the conversations and observe the interactions of any family or workplace and what will you find? Stories of the battle between war and peace. I could go on but you get the point. From the surface down to the soul of things, and on scales big, average, and small—human life, at bottom, is one unending, ancient story of the battle between war and peace. And so for the next 4 weeks, this is the question we’re gonna be asking ourselves, the question that I’m gonna invite all of you to wrestle and live with for the next month: when it comes to war and peace—to conflict and violence and justice—what sort of story does Christianity tell? Over and against everything the world has to say, what does the Bible have to say about war and peace? Enuma Elish In 1849, a man was on an archaeological dig in Iraq when he unearthed 7 clay tablets. And scribbled across these 7 clay tablets was a most remarkable story that came to be known as the Enuma Elish. The Enuma Elish is an ancient Babylonian creation story, thousands and thousands and thousands of years old—a story about where the world came from and why things are the way they are. It’s a story similar, in some ways, to what we find in Genesis 1, and yet very different in some ways. Here’s the cliff notes version. In the beginning, there are these two primeval gods: Apsu and Tiamat. But then, there comes this second generation of gods, and they’re really noisy and boisterous and this bothers Apsu and Tiamat…so, they decide to kill them because that’s what you do when somebody bothers you. And go figure, the second generation of gods doesn’t really want to be killed, so a battle of the gods ensues and it finally results with Marduk, this powerful, young god, defeating Tiamat in battle and then ripping her dead carcass into two halves, one of which he uses to make the heavens, the other of which he uses to make the earth. The heavens and the earth, the entire cosmos, are the two halves of a murdered god’s dismembered carcass. Which leads us to the next question: so where did humans come from? Well, after Marduk murders Tiamat, rips her in half, and uses to carcass to create the cosmos, he gets in another fight with another god. And you guessed it, he kills that god too and then uses that murdered god’s blood to create human beings. Human beings are created from the blood of a murdered god. So in summary, according to one of humanity’s oldest creation stories, the universe we live in is built from the carcass of a murdered god and we owe our existence to the spilt blood of a murdered god. The universe is a battleground, the product of a primeval conflict, a primordial war. And so when humans fight and hate and take and spill each other’s blood, we’re just doing what the gods have always done and will always do. The universe revolves around war. The Myth of Chaos And while most of us have probably never read the Enuma Elish, this is actually a story we’re all quite familiar with. Think about it. All of life as a battle of good against evil. Conflict and violence as the necessary repercussions of this essential battle. All of humanity divided into allies and enemies. Peace as a naïve illusion, a temporary armistice, a brief break in the action while everybody reloads. As George Orwell is said to have said it, “People sleep peaceably in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf.” You know this story. Indeed, this is the...

Of Stars and Starvation

By Austin on Oct 9, 2014

Here’s a sermon from a couple of weeks ago, addressing the why of Christian worship. Of Stars and Starvation Why do we bother with astronomy when people are starving in the world? Guy lies in bed unable to sleep. He is thirty years old with a Ph.D. in planetary science. He’s done post-graduate work at MIT and Harvard. He’s taught at MIT and Harvard. He’s a rising star in the world of astronomy. Every day he sees things that few other eyes will ever see: comets hurling through solar systems, supernova explosions, black holes. He loves it, all of it, and yet there he lies, unable able to sleep, thinking about leaving his career as an astronomer because he can’t answer this question: why am I doing astronomy when people are starving in the world? Isn’t looking at stars a massive waste of time when matters of life and death press in on us from all sides at all times? Who’s got time for comets, supernovas, and black holes when empty stomachs, broken hearts, and ruined souls surround us? It’s a disturbing question because the word astronomy could be replaced by any number of things. Why do we bother with music when people are starving in the world? Why do we bother with sports when people are starving in the world? Why do we bother with laughter and parties and vacations when people are starving in the world? Why do we bother? Genesis 1 Take a second to read Genesis 1…slowly. Genesis 1 has been the site for lots of bloodshed over the years. Are we supposed to take it literally? Are we supposed to take it figuratively? Are we supposed to take it somewhere in between literally and figuratively? How long are the days? How old is the earth? And most importantly, where the heck are the dinosaurs? And while I don’t mean to belittle such questions because some of them are important, most of them are simply exercises in missing the point because Genesis 1 is less about science and more about a song. Indeed it’s quite remarkable that across the theological spectrum—liberal, moderate, conservative—most biblical scholars agree that Genesis 1 has more in common with a song we might sing in worship than a paragraph we might find a scientific textbook. Listen to it—it has a very clear cadence and rhythm. Then God said, let there be light…and there was…and God saw that it was good. Then God said, let there be a sky…and there was…and God saw that it was good. Then God said, let there be oceans and lands and trees…and there was…and God saw that it was good. Then God said, let there be sun and moon and stars…and there was…and God saw that it was good. Unless you’re tone-deaf, you hear it—the rhythm and groove of “Then God said, and there was, and it was good. And then God said, and there was, and it was good.” Genesis 1 tells us the truth about creation (no doubt about it), and it tells it through song. And it’s no coincidence that the story of creation is told in a song. Music, Food, Sex I’ll go out on a limb and guess that every person who reads this likes music, because everybody likes music. Across time and culture and gender and race, everybody likes music. It’s not a matter of taste, it’s not up for debate—if you don’t like music, there’s something wrong with you. You need Jesus. It is not ok to not like music. We all know this. But why do we like music so much? In 2001, a pair of neuroscientists from the University of Montreal tackled this question and this is what they found. When we do certain things, our brains reward us with a rush of something called dopamine—a neurotransmitter that, basically, makes us feel good. For example, when we eat food, our brain rewards us with a dopamine rush—that’s why we like eating so much. Or when we have sex, our brain rewards us with a dopamine rush—that’s why we like sex so much. But why do our brains do this? The evolutionary theory is that our brain rewards behaviors that contribute to the survival of the species—things like food and sex. So when we do something that helps homo sapiens thrive, our brain goes, “Good job! Here’s some dopamine. Keep doing that.” And that’s a sound theory, but here’s where things get interesting. Echoes of the Song The study found that listening to music also causes the brain to reward us with a rush of dopamine. We listen to music, and for some reason our brain rewards us—it says, “Good job, Austin. Here’s some dopamine. Keep listening.” And this has puzzled the scientific community because, well, music doesn’t contribute to the survival of the species. We don’t need music. It doesn’t sustain us physically. It doesn’t aid in procreation (although sometimes it helps). Why would our brain want us listening to music? This may puzzle the scientist, but not the person who has read Genesis 1 where the story of creation is told in a song because creation itself is best understood as a song—something unnecessary, gratuitous, over the top, extravagant. As Job 38:4,7 says it, “Where...

NFL Scandals and Hero-Worship

By Austin on Sep 22, 2014

I love sports-always have and always will. But here are a few, brief thoughts regarding the recent NFL ethical “scandals”. ——————————- Over the past month, the NFL has faced a number of scandals involving abuse. And as I’ve listened to the endless volley of opinion responding to these scandals, there is an unspoken assumption I find puzzling; namely, that the NFL has to punish athletes severely because they set an example for the rest of society. And so without commenting on what did or didn’t happen in the cases involving Ray Rice and Adrian Peterson and what their punishment should or shouldn’t be, I’d just like to point out the absurdity of the notion that the NFL should be setting an ethical example for the rest of society. Really? The NFL (or NBA, MLB, etc, etc, etc) is where we look to learn what it means to live the good life? NFL players have some added responsibility to serve as role models? Why? Because they’re public figures? Because kids look up to them? I’ve come to the conclusion that we would be far better off if we quit insisting that athletes be great role models (and then whining and complaining when they’re not) and start teaching our children and ourselves that athletes aren’t role models by virtue of being athletes. In a sense, the moral failings of athletes are not near as big a problem as our comically misplaced adoration of them (or any “famous” figure for that matter). But it seems we’d rather just keep insisting that they get their act together so we can continue unabated with our “hero-worship” instead of calling our hero-worship into question. On a related note, one can’t help but notice the NFL seems to embrace this notion that its athletes must be good role models because it reinforces its narrative of self-importance, it’s propaganda—“Our players have to be good role models because everyone looks to them for guidance and moral vision.” I’m not disagreeing that this is the case. I just think it’s pathetic that it is the case…especially for Christians, because we know...