Sermon: Telling the story of responsibility (June 7, 2015)

Pentecost 2B

June 7, 2014

Genesis 3:8-15

Mark 3:20-35

            This morning, our opening hymn is one that many of you probably have sung countless times, an old favorite: “I love to tell the story, ‘twill be my theme in glory, to tell the old, old story of Jesus and his love.” It’s sort of ironic though, really, that this hymn is so loved by Lutherans, because Lutherans are historically and statistically not very good at telling the story, at least outside of the safe circle of the church (and even there it can be a struggle). Evangelism has, shall we say, not always been our strong suit as Lutherans. Which is precisely why “telling the story” became the theme of our synod assembly last weekend: “God’s story, our voices.” In various capacities, we

talked and learned about how we tell the story, how we hear the story, how we see the story, how we live the story. We were inspired even as we were convicted that indeed we are not very good at this… yet.

            Part of the reason we are not so good at this, I suppose, is that biblical literacy is no longer a given like it was 50 years ago. As a result, many people don’t face a life situation and immediately think of a Bible passage that speaks to it. Even I am in this boat, after so many Bible classes and so much study, simply because biblical literacy is not ingrained as a cultural norm like it once was. And yet, the Bible is full of stories that are terrifically relevant to our lives. So, one of my jobs as your pastor is to help you develop this skill.

            And today’s Old Testament reading is a great place to start, because this story about Adam and Eve and the serpent is one that speaks so perfectly to the human condition. In fact, that was its purpose all along. This is one of those stories in the Bible that is written not to be taken as fact, but rather to portray a truth. It’s an etiology of sorts, that is, a story describing a way of life we know to be true, and after the fact, coming up with a reason for it – in this case, the origins of good and evil, of original sin, of pride. An etiology is by its very nature, a literary form that people can relate to. It is a story that sheds light on something about ourselves. We have all wanted to know more than we

Adam and Eve by Ralph Milton

should (like Adam and Eve), we have all tried to cover or hide from our mistakes (like Adam and Eve), we have all blamed someone else when really we know deep down that we are just as much at fault – and so we can all relate to and learn from this story, because it serves as a mirror into our hearts.

            This is especially easy to see in our personal relationships. Just think: who here has ever had an argument with someone? (Let’s see those hands!) Try to remember a specific disagreement you had. Now, I’m no psychic, but… my guess is that the disagreement arose because both parties believed they were right. Am I correct? Or perhaps more accurately, it arose because no one wanted to admit they were wrong. In my experience, I find that while being right is very nice, the bigger concern is that I don’t want to be wrong – because being wrong, and especially having to admit we are wrong, is one of the hardest things we have to do. In your experience, why is that? What makes admitting you are wrong so difficult? [wait for answers] It is hard because admitting you are wrong requires relinquishing some control in the situation. As long as you are right, you have the upper hand, but letting go of that control means you risk getting hurt, being ashamed, and losing your dignity and self-respect. And so blaming someone else becomes a shield, a protection, a way of keeping control and eliminating that risk of being hurt and ashamed.

            It’s exactly what Adam and Eve do. They both knew they were wrong – that is why they hide! They are exposed – both their hearts and even, they realize, their bodies – and so they try to hide themselves. But of course God finds them (God always does), and realizes right away that they have done something wrong. “Adam, did you do the very thing I told you not to do?” Well, Adam is not about to take the blame for this (even though if he’s being honest, he knows that he could very easily have made his own decisions and declined the fruit Eve offered). He is already standing naked before God, feeling about as exposed and unprotected as he possibly can. The only way out is to shift the blame. “I only did it because Eve made me,” he says. Sigh, relief. God’s attention turns to Eve. “Eve, what have you got to say for yourself?” Stammering and scrambling to somehow shirk the

responsibility and escape from this horrific insecurity and regain her sense of control and self-respect, she too shifts the blame: “It was the serpent. He said it was the right thing to do, and I believed him.” Phew. Saved. They can’t undo the damage, but at least they can escape this awkward encounter with a shred of their former dignity.

            Sound at all familiar? I can think of several fights I’ve had that have followed this pattern. But the real conviction happens when we broaden our scope to think not only about our personal relationships, but about our role in the larger issues the world faces, about our public responsibilities that we slough off on someone else. For example: none of us are the reason there is no rain in California, but does that mean we bear no responsibility for our neighbors out west? After all, here in NY we still buy almonds, an incredibly thirsty crop, 80% of which are grown in California, and we buy bottled water that uses water from drought-ridden California,[1] and we buy a host of produce products grown in California. You see, it is easy to remove ourselves from this drought 3000 miles away as we grab another case of water and pick out the choicest oranges, and take no responsibility for that tragedy. That’s what Adam and Eve

Evidence of drought in CA

did: “It was Eve!” “It was the snake!” “I didn’t have any other option, and this is definitely not my fault!”

            Is that what Jesus would have us do? Look around at the various tragedies of the world – whether they are natural disasters, or deeply ingrained systemic issues like racism, or more specific injustices like the high rate of incarceration in this country, or the possibility that a 15-year-old known by all as a “good kid” can get stabbed to death on the streets of Rochester, or all-pervasive worldwide issues like hunger and poverty… Would Jesus have us look at these issues and others and shake our heads sadly and say, “That’s a shame, but it’s not my fault. I’ll give some food to the local pantry to try and help, but ultimately, I can’t fix this, because I didn’t cause it. Fixing it long-term is someone else’s job, not mine.”

            Is that what Jesus would have us do? Or would Jesus have us do something more like what we see in today’s Gospel lesson, in which Jesus goes from town to town healing and teaching and doing so in such a manner that people actually think he is possessed! But he will not sit idle while the world

needs to know the love of God, even if that means people judge him, and that he has to redefine his family, and that people discredit his work because they think he is crazy for even trying.

            “I love to tell the story, ‘twill be my theme in glory,” we sang with such gusto this morning. And do we? Do we love to tell that story in such a way that we may put ourselves at the same risk that Jesus did of being judged and ostracized and declared crazy and eventually put to death? Do we love to tell the story with our dramatic works to make this world more like God intended? Do we love to tell the story by sharing with others that although it may seem we are acting all crazy and irrationally in our efforts to serve God and neighbor, we are actually doing it because we are baptized, and the Holy Spirit is in us and upon us, and this is what it looks like to be faithful Christians – even if it means inconveniencing ourselves, or upsetting the apple cart like Jesus did?

            Sisters and brothers in Christ, let us tell that story. Let us learn a lesson from Adam and Eve, and instead of always placing blame elsewhere, let’s recognize what role we have played in injustice, and then use that awareness to play a role in bringing about the kingdom of God on earth. Let us tell the old, old story of Jesus and his love, in whatever way it takes to get the word out.

            And let us begin with prayer… Holy Spirit, you came upon us in our baptism and empowered us for ministry in this world. Help us not to turn a blind eye to the needs of the world, dismissing them as “not our problem.” Help us take responsibility, and guide us toward the paths that will best serve the world, and that will share the old, old story of Jesus and his love. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

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[1] “Some Brands are Still Bottling Water in Drought-Stricken Regions,” http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2015/04/10/bottled-water-drought-california_n_7028058.html