Defining Stories

Every week she was in worship, and she sat in the back next to the door almost like she could make a quick get-a-way if necessary.  She always arrived at the last minute, and she left very quickly never lingering for conversation.  She wore an expression that I perceived to be a combination of sadness and anger.   

One Sunday while going out the door, she momentarily paused and asked if she could make an appointment to speak with me.  I said, “Of course”, and we made arrangements. 

A few days later she arrived at my office and sat down.  For several very long minutes she just sat silently, eyes cast downward as if she was afraid to speak.   I had the good sense to not invade the holy silence with saying something stupid or trivial.  I figured she would speak when she was ready. 

She finally spoke, but didn’t look up.  In a voice barely above a whisper she said, “Is it OK to be angry at God?”  I said, “Yes, it is!”  She then said, “No, you don’t understand. I mean really angry. I mean filled with rage!  In fact, I think I hate God,”  her voice increasing in intensity and passion.

I said, “Tell me about it. Tell me your story.”  When she was five years old living in Germany in 1943, the Nazis discovered that her parents were helping the underground smuggle Jews out of the country.  One day the Nazis showed up at their home and executed her parents, shot them dead, in front of her eyes.  Her life took many difficult turns after that, but in the late 1950’s she made it to the United States.  I was the first person with whom she had dared share her intense anger at God. 

That was the defining story of Susan’s life.  How could it not be??  The image of her parents being executed and her intense hostility toward God who would allow such atrocities to occur dominated the landscape of her consciousness every day of her life.  Somewhere along the line she had also been told it was sinful to express anger toward God, so she lived in the exile of her hot anger and profound grief.  That was her defining story: horrific and evil injustice, profound grief, white-hot rage, and then told her rage at God was sinful.  I have no idea why she kept coming to church, other than in her despair, she didn't know where else to go.

That afternoon we eventually went into the sanctuary, and we sat down in the front row.  I encouraged her to try to speak her feelings out loud to God.  At first she couldn’t.  She buried her face in her trembling hands and tightly closed her eyes.  But after awhile she began to speak; first in a whisper; then an audible voice: to speak her pain; to speak her anger; to speak her rage; to speak her grief – and her speaking turned into shrieks --  which finally became unbridled sobs of grief that spilled forth from her tormented soul. 

That day marked a little new beginning for Susan.  On that day the spark of a new defining story was kindled.  A new defining story began to emerge – not in a day – or a week – or a year – but ever so slowly a new story began to redefine her life. In releasing her grief and rage upon God, she began to see and experience God in a new and different way - a God who was willing to hear and respect her feelings as poignant as they were; more than that- a God that heard her pain;  more than that - she came to know God as One who felt and absorbed her pain into God’s own heart and soul - a God who made her pain God's very own.  A new defining story of a different view of God, which led to a different experience of God, began to emerge for her. 

She told me some time later, that as we sat in the sanctuary with the cross before us that day, the cross, at that moment, suddenly transformed for her; transformed into a powerful living symbol of God's pathos for the her pain and the world's pain.  The God of sin and guilt, that she had lived with for so long, hadn't meant much to her; in fact had only exacerbated her pain.  But the God of her pathos; who absorbed her pain into God's very own heart and soul began, on that day, began to mean so much more. 

Transformation began to happen in her life in little ways.  Her demeanor changed – her spirit changed – she began to smile – she even laughed – she began to linger and didn’t run out the door after church, but engaged in conversation.  Why?  How?  All I can say is that she changed as the defining story of her life changed.

This morning in our gospel we have this rather comedic scene of four committed friends of a paralyzed man who weren't going to allow anything to stop them from getting their friend to Jesus.  They arrived at the house where he was, but there were so many people they couldn't even get to the door. So they climbed the exterior stairs that led to the roof, as the roofs of houses in those days were utilized as  living space.  Once up there they removed some roofing sections, and they began to lower the man down on his stretcher in front of Jesus. 

Before the man's stretcher even hit the floor, he said to the paralyzed man, "Your sins are forgiven!"   Sins!  Who asked about sins?  They brought him there to be healed of his paralysis for Jesus was known as a healer.  But, you see, this isn't a story about a physical healing.  That's not why Mark told the story and included it in his gospel.  If that's what we think this story is about, we miss the whole point of the story.  Mark wove this story into the fabric of his gospel because he wanted his readers to know that Jesus was in the business of radically and scandalously changing their most sacred defining stories.  What we have in this little episode in Mark's gospel is one of their defining stories being redefined - and the subsequent creation of a new story. 

The predominant defining story of their religion was that the temple priesthood mediated God's grace.  The temple claimed to have a monopoly on forgiveness and access to God.  Also, a belief of their time was that illness were understood as punishment from God for sin.   I know, our 21st century sensibilities obviously take issue with that, but the point is that's what they believed so we must understand the story in its historical setting.   

So, when Jesus said, "Your sins are forgiven", he stepped across one of the most sacred boundaries of their religion, and as a result began to unravel one of their most entrenched defining stories.  Jesus did that which was exclusively reserved for the priesthood.  The priesthood and temple authorities were the mediators of God's grace and no one else..  Who does this Jesus think he is to throw grace and forgiveness around so recklessly?  This paralyzed man didn't ask for it.  This man didn't even deserve it.  He hadn't offered any sacrifice.  He hadn't fulfilled any of the prescribed ritual procedures required for forgiveness.  It was blasphemy and they even said so.

This story declared the most scandalous thing possible - that people have access to God's grace apart from the temple and its system of sacrifice.  This story became for Mark's community and the early Christian community their defining story - a metaphor of God's radical and amazing grace  - grace set loose in the world apart from temple mediation. 

The temple rationed out grace and forgiveness like it was in short supply - like they were going to run out.!   In the name of God, if they were going to give you grace, then you had darn well better deserve it!  (Think about the irony of that statement for a moment)

In contrast to the temple authority, Jesus spread grace around lavishly and generously, profusely and prolifically, copiously and extravagantly as if there was an inexhaustible supply - and he gave it to all the folks who didn't deserve it - at least according to temple standards and requirements - people like tax collectors, prostitutes - the scorned and forlorn of all kinds - and he gave it without restriction or constraint.  And he and God's amazing grace became the new defining story of the early Christian community, and it transformed them and had a transformational impact on human life. 

But what's so tragic and ironic is that within 400 years the religion that formed around Jesus and his amazing grace began to exclusively claim for itself an institutional monopoly on grace and access to God - and the Christian religion became all as restrictive with grace, if not more, as the temple had been at the time of Jesus. 

We have inherited this defining story of God's grace as revealed in Jesus.  The question is what are we going to do with it?  Are we going to be like the temple authorities of old or what the church came to be a few hundred years after Jesus and ration grace restrictively only to a selected few - only those who "deserve" it  because we deem they have the "correct beliefs?"   Or we going to be more like Jesus and love recklessly and lavishly?

What are your defining stories?  What are the events and circumstances,  joys and sorrows, tragedies and triumphs that define your life?  They do you know - define your life.  How might the story of God's grace redefine your defining story/stories?

As Christians we say that Jesus is our defining story.  But which Jesus  are we talking about?  He is not the same for everyone, and we commit a terrible offense when we try to make him the same for everyone.   The reason that the New Testament has so many metaphors defining Jesus is that as a defining story he was different for different people.

For those languishing in some kind of self-imposed or otherwise forced exile he takes on greatest relevance as "the Way" - the highway home to God and restoration.

For those in bondage and oppression he is the Liberator.  That's largely how the African American community of the United States and other oppressed peoples in the world have experienced him.  A theology of liberation has been their defining story - and Jesus as the liberator of oppression

For those suffering from various forms of blindness from prejudice to ignorance, he may be the Light of the World who brings new perspective, greater wisdom and depth of understanding.

For those suffering from want, disease and starvation on this planet they may understand him best as the Bread of Life - and pray that the halves of this world, like us,  may see him in a similar way and be motivated to share from our over-abundance and advocate for the poor out our power.

For those immersed in guilt, he becomes the great Forgiver who speaks unrestricted words of forgiveness. 

When our hearts become closed, he becomes the giver of a new compassionate heart.

When we are thirsty from boredom or stress, he is the Living Water of new depth of purpose. 

The early community of Jesus followers experienced him as their defining story, that led to transformation.  What will we do with the inheritance of grace?  I pray it will be for us as well.