When I was in college, I went to my friends’ church event without knowing what it was about. I was just attracted by the fact that my friends were all going to Manhattan. I simply wanted to go over the bridge and look around the city. I did get to walk around that day but it wasn’t what I had imagined. My friends were going to the city to get training for street evangelism, and the training was literally to talk to random people and to proselytize them. Their tactic goes something like this: “Because you’ve sinned, there’s a gap between you and God. Before your time to return comes, you need to do something. There’s a way to bridge that gap. If you say with your mouth, ‘Jesus is my Lord and Savior,’ you’ll be saved.”
I so regretted my decision to follow my friends on that precious Saturday but it was a good learning lesson for me to see how my belief system differs from these street evangelists. I failed to proselytize a single person that day (though I didn’t feel like I left anyone in hell!) and ended up arguing with one of the trainers that their tactic was based on very bad theology, which was inspired by today’s lesson. I still think it’s unhealthy in that it has to make someone sinful first and then offer a remedy of cheap grace by selling Jesus. “Say that you believe in him and all will be better” would be the type of opioid that Friedrich Nietzsche refused to take. The irony of it all as well as the best part of it all, however, was to meet a crowd of “Deadheads,” the Grateful Dead’s devoted fans who were gathered for the concert. While my trainer was busy, making these peace-seeking Deadheads sinful, I had fun talking with them. I learned about the Grateful Dead from the most trusted source (!) and was recommended some songs. Deadheads’ effort to proselytize me failed since I’m a fan of Creedence Clearwater Revival but I greatly appreciate their song “Ripple” which was inspired by Psalm 23. Listening to Ripple, what would be much more loving and effective than singing the message, “Reach out your hand if your cup be empty / If your cup is full may it be again / Let it be known there is a fountain / That was not made by the hands of men.” What does it mean for us to confess that Jesus is Lord? We do have a choice to mean what we say. It doesn’t have to be Jesus or Jose or Joshua if what we want from this confession is to get what we want, whether that is to avoid going to hell or to have a successful life in our lifetime since all these reasons have nothing to do with the life of Jesus. We look at how this person from Nazareth experienced a sense of losing himself and rediscovering his human nature in the presence of God. This was most explicitly pictured at his baptism where his sense of self was resurrected as God’s beloved. This belovedness is not another identity to add on but the wholeness of God that completes our being. In this full immersion into God, there’s no void, no lack, no thirst, but deathless fulfillment. This is the “fountain that was not made by the hands of men.” Whatever identity goes into that immersion would expose its own incompleteness as if pasta sauce stains a white tablecloth. To say Jesus is Lord starts with curiosity about the person Jesus. What happened to him that he was so compelled to live a life for others? What did he experience? With this wonder and awe of his life, we want to try out his way of living, which originated from his spiritual life. Seeing himself as beloved or being embraced in God’s unconditional love, that all he ever needed for his life was God alone, we are constantly invited to this inner place of love. In this same respect, to confess Jesus is Lord wholeheartedly is to actualize the inner place of love outwardly in our neighborhood. It’s never a cheap way to salvation but a costly one that requires our entire lives. In our union with God, all our sociobiological identities become secondary. Rather, they are transformed to our spiritual means to love better and deeper. My male heterosexual identity (which is privileged in our society), for example, will be used to improve those without it by freely choosing to disempower it. A privilege can be happily given up when used for the benefit of others. It’s like finding the right place where pasta sauce should be on pasta, not on a clean tablecloth. So, is Jesus Lord? Do you believe in your heart God raises you from the dead? Each one of us has a unique worldview. We look at things with perspectives that have been shaped by personal experiences and expressed by concepts. All of us are somehow creating worlds that make sense to us. You and I can stand in the same place but our experiences would be quite different. Philosophers may say that this individually unique experience shifts our focus on the structure of the external world to the structure of the mind then to the structure of concepts. This worldview through which we make worlds is analogous to St. Paul’s image of a “veil” in today’s lesson.
St. Paul talks about a biblical image of a “veil” that lies over the minds of his fellow Jewish people. This veil image comes from the story where Moses’s face shines too bright after his encounter with God and receiving of the two tablets of the covenant. His dazzling face triggers fear in the Israelites because of the belief that anyone who sees God face to face dies. There may be a glimpse of God in Moses’ face, which can kill them. So, he has to put a veil over his face to prevent everyone from seeing his face or from dying. (Exodus 34:29-35) St. Paul interprets this well-known story to criticize his fellow Jewish people’s unacceptance of the gospel that the veil still covers their minds. They cannot see God in Jesus face to face because their minds are still covered with the same veil triggered by fear of death. It’s worth questioning ourselves, “What veils do we cover our minds with? What’s my veil made of?” This is to ask three things: 1) Am I aware of my worldview? 2) If so, what worldview do I look at? And 3) What are the driving forces or motivating factors of this particular worldview? In the case of the Israelites, fear of death is the driving force of their veil. The way they see and relate to God is through death. This isn’t too different from hell-fire talks that depict God punitive, fearful, always watching over everyone’s shoulders. I’m not sure if our school system explicitly talks about various worldviews or what worldview it directly educates (or promotes) students with. Yet, one worldview that all of us are familiar with would be the First Amendment which protects one’s rights to the freedom of speech, press, assembly, and petition. It’s interesting to see that freedom is at the heart of both St. Paul’s lesson and the First Amendment. Paul says, “Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.” and freedom in Christ uncovers the veil of fear. The First Amendment would say, “Where two or more Americans are, there is freedom of speech or expression.” and freedom is without fear of retaliation. It seems the opposite of freedom is fear that locks us and enslaves us in a certain state of illusion. I ask myself those three questions. The first two questions are hard to answer and the third one is even harder. To respond to these questions, I find myself in the place of contemplation because they bring me to honestly face my own biases, prejudices, etc. This is a challenging task that eventually leads to the place of metanoia where I’ve missed the mark, turning away from our old ways. While each one of us has various worldviews and different kinds of veils multilayered through our diverse experiences, the Christian worldview starts with Christ. Then, what matters more is not so much about defining what worldviews I have but rather having Christ reveal what they are and what they are made of so that we no longer live under the veil but with “unveiled faces.” Again and again, I come back to the inner place of contemplation. I also invite all of us to come. This is where Christ shines in us as Paul describes, “...all of us, with unveiled faces, seeing the glory of the Lord as though reflected in a mirror, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another; for this comes from the Lord, the Spirit.” In Christ, our fear of death, which is the basis of all fears, is overcome. Our language of the resurrection in and of Christ becomes meaningful only when we truly experience our own overcoming of it in Christ. To do so is through being gazed by and gazing at God face to face in Christ. In doing so, we’re transfigured. Today, we celebrate the last Sunday after the Epiphany and this coming Wednesday begins the Lenten Season. We remember the light of Christ by embodying this light within ourselves and begin our Lenten Season with the same light so that we build hope upon hope. May we find the light of Christ every moment, especially when our old veils seem to linger. Amen. Do you drink milk? (I do but only when I eat Oreos.) When we buy a carton of milk, we first look at which brand to drink and whether it’s organic, grass-fed, or not (if you care) and then check its expiration date. In this simple act, we create a sense of identity as someone who drinks organic, grass-fed milk. We become someone who is nutritionally and ethically conscious. And as we drink it, it becomes truly ours in that both our identity and body gain their strength.
According to Jeremiah, our act of trusting in something is related to our strength. So he says, “Cursed are those who trust in mere mortals and make mere flesh their strength…” We trust in something that helps us form our identities. Here, “mere mortals” or “mere flesh” can be understood as that which doesn’t last forever. It’s something that has an expiration date. In the example of milk, no one has a strong attachment to the identity that milk strengthens. But we can expand this simple idea to something larger such as political, economic, and social privileges. These can be considered mere mortals or flesh because they don’t last forever. We might tend to think that our act of trusting in something can be detected easily but I don’t think it’s that evident. Jeremiah seems to suggest to us to look at how we strengthen certain identities we would like to continue with. What raw materials are we using to strengthen a sense of who we are? This question leads us to examine our hearts whether we know what we have our trust in. What’s the foundation of my being? What’s the ultimate ground of my existence? Using the milk example again, suppose I want to continue my identity as a nutritionally and ethically conscious, conscientious person. I’ll continue to drink organic, grass-fed milk to strengthen this identity. But I will have to make sure to check its expiration date so that I don’t get sick. The means of crafting as a nutritionally and ethically conscious and conscientious being has an expiration date. It doesn’t last more than two months. Milk can be easily replaced with anything that our society highly values. One can build one’s identity on abundant financial gains and become a billionaire. Money itself doesn’t expire but the identity as a billionaire does when money is no longer available or if that person’s assets are less than a billion. To keep this identity, that person will have to strengthen one’s assets and never stop investing. But again, this effort has its expiration date. When death comes, no financial gains will be available. Unless anyone is satisfied by the fact that this person at least died as a billionaire, it is hard to say that person trusted in God. This billionaire might have said he believed in God but his primary identity choice was a billionaire. God may have been used to strengthen his billionaire identity. Both milk and billionaire examples, you might feel, can be a bit far-reaching but you get my point. Where do we find our strength to build upon who we want to be? For Jeremiah, trusting in mere mortals is about what raw materials we craft and invent ourselves with and what identities we would like to hold onto. The issue lies in our desire to put on lots of self-images so that we can never imagine ourselves to be something else. We’re locked and closed up in all these identities that do not last forever. We find meanings based upon them, which become our strength to live. All these identities aren’t bad but they all fade away. They expire. It’s like drinking expired milk continuously to keep my nutritionally and ethically conscious and conscientious being. We certainly do not want to feed onto that which is past the expiration date. Jeremiah may shout at our world: “You’re not just how much you make. You’re not just how healthy you are. You’re not just how smart, intelligent, spiritual, religious you are. You’re not just your skin. You’re not just your job. You’re not just who you think you are.” It is crucial in our spiritual growth to hear this prophetic voice of Jeremiah, and we do so only when we keep silent. In contemplation, we can listen to “Be still and know that I am God” but we also need to listen to “Be still and know what you are not.” The first step to learning how to trust in God then begins with recognizing what identities we want to cling to and checking their expiration dates. Knowing that this identity that I’m holding onto is for the sake of serving others and it does have its expiration date, we are not fixated on one thing. We learn when to take it and when to let go so that we’re free. This freedom is linked with our act of trusting in God because we’re not enslaved to anything in this world but simply free in God, like a tree planted by water, growing its roots and branches freely. |
Paul"...life up your love to that cloud [of unknowing]...let God draw your love up to that cloud...through the help of his grace, to forget every other thing." Archives
January 2025
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