I’d like to thank you all for helping me with today’s sermon. Today’s sermon comes out of many conversations that have taken place over the past few months in the life of our congregation. Conversations that I’ve had with you. Conversations that you’ve had with each other.
This sermon does not come out of any one particular conversation or event. I say this because at some point in the sermon you may hear something that makes you think, “Oh, he’s talking about that one conversation I had,” or, “he’s referring to that one time when…” Well, I’m not really responding to any one conversation or event; but I am inspired by the larger conversation that I have heard taking place over the past several months.
What I’ve noticed in this ongoing conversation is that the people of Bixby Knolls Christian Church want to talk about their faith. We want to share our faith. We want to let our community know just what a difference our faith has made in our lives. We want to share with the world just what it is about our faith and our church that brings wholeness to our lives, that makes our lives complete.
However, we often struggle to find the right words, don’t we? Know, then, that this struggle places us right into Christian history, following a long line of Christian thinkers throughout the centuries.
I know, from reading church history books by Justo Gonzalez and others, that way back in the fourth century, the struggle to put words to one’s beliefs was different … but not that different. Back then, the Jewish tradition from which Christianity originated was quite different from Greek wisdom and philosophy which was prominent in many areas where Christianity was expanding. The challenge for those fourth century Christians was to explain their faith in ways that those raised with Greek philosophy could understand.
This led to some changes in the way Christians think about God. The Jewish tradition emphasized a God who is good; but Greek philosophy emphasized perfection over goodness. Today, when we talk about God as being perfect and unchanging, those are more Greek ideas than Judeo-Christian ideas.
Another topic of conversation in the fourth century was how, exactly, Jesus was related to God. If God was perfect, and Jesus was, well, human – and humans were, by nature, imperfect – then how could Jesus also be divine? How could one being be perfect and imperfect?
Greek philosophy had the idea of the Logos, the Word of God, which was soon applied to Jesus. However, the question arose: is the Word, the Logos, equally divine as the Father?
Alexander, the bishop of Alexandria in Egypt, said yes: the Word has always co-existed with the Father. But Arius, another leader in Alexandria, said no, that the Word was subservient to God, that it was, in fact, created by God as the first of God’s creatures. The implication of this was that, since the Word was created by God, the Word itself was not God.
Well, both Arius and Alexander found numerous proof-texts in the Bible to support their arguments. Arius accused Alexander of worship two gods, since Alexander insisted that there were two divine beings: the Father, and the Word. Alexander accused Arius of denying the divinity of Jesus Christ, which the church had worshiped since the beginning.
Alexander, being bishop, removed Arius from all his leadership positions. Arius, in turn, led massive protests and demonstrations on the streets of Alexandria. As they marched, these Arians (as they were known) shouted their motto: “There was when he was not!” Arius also wrote to other bishops in other cities, who responded by writing letters of support and speaking in favor of Arius. Thus the controversy spread throughout the church.
And you thought debates and conflicts were only a feature of modern Christianity!
The controversy became so great that eventually, in the year 325, Constantine, the new emperor of Rome, called a great assembly or council of bishops to meet together to resolve the controversy. They met in the city of Nicea, and it was the first time in history that bishops and leaders from throughout the Christian world had come together. From three different continents they came, some of them still bearing on their bodies the evidence of torture, signs that the days of Christian persecution had only recently ended. It was an exciting and historic gathering.
However, they did have to resolve the Arian controversy, as it had become known. Arius himself was not allowed to be present, since he was not a bishop, but others spoke on his behalf. Most of the bishops present were upset that this controversy had erupted, especially at a time when persecution had finally come to an end. They just wanted it resolved.
After debates, arguments, accusations, and shouting, the council decided that it had to formally reject Arianism, and the way to do that was to come up with a creed that would express the faith of the church in a way that Arianism was clearly excluded.
What they came up with was this:
We believe in one God, the Father Almighty, maker of all things visible and invisible.
And in one Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of God, the only-begotten of the Father, that is, from the substance of the Father, God of God, light of light, true God of true God, begotten, not made, of one substance with the Father, through whom all things were made, both in heaven and on earth, who for us humans and for our salvation descended and became incarnate, becoming human, suffered and rose again on the third day, ascended to the heavens, and will come to judge the living and the dead.
And in the Holy Spirit.
This document has been adapted slightly over the years, and is today known as the Nicene Creed. In some ways it is similar to the Apostles’ Creed, which was itself written in response to theological controversy, in this case, the controversy surrounding Marcionism and Gnosticism.
When you know the history, it becomes clear that these creeds were written as a way to exclude people and ideas which did not conform to what was commonly accepted. It was a way of drawing a line between who was “in” and who was “out.” It defined who was a part of the group, and who was not.
Ancient Judaism, though quite different from Christianity in the fourth century, had its own ways of determining who was in and who was out. Those who were “in” followed certain practices that set them apart, some of which can be found in the eleventh chapter of Leviticus, which describes which foods can and cannot be eaten:
From among all the land animals, these are the creatures that you may eat. Any animal that has divided hoofs and is cloven-footed and chews the cud—such you may eat. But among those that chew the cud or have divided hoofs, you shall not eat the following: the camel, for even though it chews the cud, it does not have divided hoofs; it is unclean for you. The rock-badger, for even though it chews the cud, it does not have divided hoofs; it is unclean for you. The hare, for even though it chews the cud, it does not have divided hoofs; it is unclean for you. The pig, for even though it has divided hoofs and is cloven-footed, it does not chew the cud; it is unclean for you. Of their flesh you shall not eat, and their carcasses you shall not touch; they are unclean for you.
These you may eat, of all that are in the waters. Everything in the waters that has fins and scales, whether in the seas or in the streams—such you may eat. But anything in the seas or the streams that does not have fins and scales, of the swarming creatures in the waters and among all the other living creatures that are in the waters—they are detestable to you and detestable they shall remain. Of their flesh you shall not eat, and their carcasses you shall regard as detestable. Everything in the waters that does not have fins and scales is detestable to you.
Well, it goes on and on.
You know, a few weeks ago, I said in a sermon – I don’t know if you were listening or not – but I said that the kingdom of God is bigger than any religion. I don’t know if you were startled by that statement, but I was. I know I preached it, but I’m not quite sure where it came from. And I’ve been pondering it ever since.
Well, I think today’s scripture shows that it is a true statement. Peter – a faithful Jew – followed all the teachings of Judaism, including the dietary restrictions. But then he had this strange vision, in which all the animals that he was not supposed to eat were lowered down on a sheet from heaven, and a voice was heard saying, “Get up Peter; kill and eat.” Peter refused; he was a good Jew, after all. But then the voice said, “What God has made clean, you must not call profane.” And then the whole vision repeated itself, a total of three times.
Eventually Peter understood: the kingdom of God is bigger than any religion. There is room for both Jews and gentiles, with no distinction between them. And since the apostle Paul wrote to the Ephesians that God is the father of every family in heaven and earth, one could even say that there is room in the kingdom of God for Muslims, Buddhists, and even atheists. The line between who’s in and who’s out, the line between us and them, does not exist in the kingdom of God.
I’m pretty sure that stories like these were important stories to Alexander Campbell, Barton Stone, and other leaders of the Restoration Movement. They were tired of the distinctions Christians made between each other. They insisted that all who believe in Jesus are one in the body of Christ. All who seek to follow Jesus are a part of the church.
So it’s not surprising that, when they planned their worship services, they did not include a reciting of one of the ancient creeds. They knew that creeds were historically used to make distinctions, to define who was in and who was out.
And it’s not surprising that, even today, many of us in the Disciples of Christ struggle to put words to our beliefs. Even if we don’t know the history of the church all that well, we do know that, among Christians, words have more often caused division than they have brought people together.
And many of us have been a part of organizations that required us to agree to a statement of faith; and even though the organization was one we believed in, one that did a lot of good, we signed the statement of faith reluctantly, because it seemed to us that the statement was designed to exclude, to make distinctions … to keep the gentiles out.
So what can we say? Rob Bell wrote a book called Velvet Elvis, which I’ve not read, but might have to just because of the title, and in that book he says: “The church must stop thinking about everybody primarily in categories of in or out, saved or not, believer or nonbeliever. Besides the fact that these terms are offensive to those who are the ‘un” and ‘non,’ they work against Jesus’s teaching about how we are to treat others… As the book of James says, ‘God shows no favoritism.’ So we don’t either.”
Maybe that, we can say.
I read recently the words of a Presbyterian pastor named Jon Walton, who said this:
“Christians have always struggled with two images that describe the church: is the church the Virgin Mother, pure, unsullied and unstained? Or is she an Earth Mother gathering her wayward children to her skirts? In the church of the Virgin, no eye is pure enough to see God, no tongue clean enough to speak God’s name. This church is vigilant in covering her children’s ears and tries to keep them from seeing or touching the world’s impurity. Its clergy are a model to the flock in morality, goodness, and self-control.
“In the church of the Earth Mother, however, the dirty hands and unwashed faces of her children are a delight. ‘I am come that you might have life,’ Jesus said, ‘and that you might have it abundantly.’ This church’s children gather to her like Ma Kettle’s kids come in from the barnyard, frogs in their pockets and grass stains on their jeans. What they lack in cleanliness they more than make up in joy. Her clergy are earthen vessels.”
Maybe that, we can say.
The Center for Progressive Christianity has a website, and on that website it says this: “We have a greater concern for the way people treat each other than for the way people express their beliefs. How we treat others is the fullest expression of what we believe.” It also says this: “We find more grace in the search for understanding than we do in dogmatic certainty.”
Maybe that, we can say.
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