Phil Kniss: Only a Game? Don’t Think So!

October 31, 2010

"What's the gospel word on sports?"

Isaiah 40:28-31; Philippians 3:12-16; Luke 4:1-13

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I want to start this sermon by having us sing a hymn together.

Don’t reach for your hymnbook, because it’s not in there.

But don’t worry.

You already know the tune and all the words by heart.

You’ve all sung it so often you could sing it in your sleep.

Although I’m sure you’ve never sung it here at Park View,

and perhaps never in any church anywhere.

Because it’s not a hymn of the church.

It’s a hymn of our culture.

John, take it away! . . . We obviously have to stand to sing it.

Take me out to the ball game,

Take me out with the crowd.

Buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jack,

I don’t care if I never get back,

So let’s root, root, root for the home team,

If they don’t win it’s a shame.

For it’s one, two, three strikes, you’re out,

At the old ball game.

See, there really is a first time for everything.

That song we just sang, to me, captures the essence,

the very best of what organized sports can offer us.

I’m a baseball fan.

I never played Little League.

Never played baseball in school.

Not sure if I could hit a fastball if my life depended on it.

In elementary school, even in such tame,

scaled-down versions of the game, like softball and kickball,

I was always one of the last chosen on playground pick-up teams,

and my classmates wouldn’t let me forget it.

Nevertheless, I was endlessly fascinated

by these games played out on the diamond.

Baseball is a marvelous game.

It is endlessly complex.

It’s a perfect combination of individual athleticism and teamwork.

It brings together a highly developed strategy and rationality,

with a wild unpredictability of umpires making

split-second and irreversible judgement calls.

It brings together neighbors and community members

on an almost daily basis

like few other sports do.

At least, it has been that kind of game.

A lot of things have conspired to radically change baseball—

and almost every professional sport—

to the point where it seems it’s high time for Christians

who want to be faithful representatives

of the gospel in our culture,

to ask some hard questions of ourselves, and our sports culture,

from the pros, all the way down to church league ball games.

That baseball hymn we just sang was written in 1908.

It came from a very different era.

When the game built a genuine sense of community.

When because it wasn’t on TV and the seats were cheap

it actually brought real neighbors together repeatedly,

so they could say “I don’t care if I never get back,”

and mean it.

When baseball parks were much smaller,

and located in residential neighborhoods,

instead of entertainment districts.

When the parks were named after beloved local individuals,

rather than the highest-bidding corporation . . .

When ticket prices were modest

concessions menus were simple and cheap, and in fact,

not a whole lot more peanuts and Cracker-Jack . . .

When players had long-term relationships with their team,

and learned to know their fans

and contribute to the well-being of their hometown.

But not to paint too rosy a picture . . .

professional baseball has always had its problems.

Racism.

Corruption.

Athletes who failed as role models.

Violence.

And organized cheating . . .

most famously, by my beloved White Sox

in the 1919 World Series.

There probably never was a truly golden era for professional sports.

And Christians have a long history

of having uneasy relationships with pro sports.

In the late 1800s pro baseball was opposed by many clergy.

One Methodist minister wrote that baseball players were [quote]

“an idle and shiftless lot,” their pay was “ridiculously high.”

An Arkansas Baptist magazine proclaimed that baseball players

“could execute more deviltry, use more profanity,

and make idiots of themselves in more ways”

than anyone else in society.

A Disciples of Christ writer exclaimed,

“Our national game?” No, it’s “one of our national curses!

Keep the boys away from it.”

Sure, there’s a degree of overreaction there. Some religious hysteria.

But, to what have we now come?

Are Christians any more thoughtful and reflective about it now?

Not only have churches come to tolerate professional sports,

we have come to embrace sports uncritically.

We even bring professional sports heroes into the church

to inspire our young people,

to put their individual Christian faith on display,

without ever questioning the values or practices

of the very enterprise that pushed them into the limelight.

Is there a gospel word on sports?

Should there be a gospel word?

Or is this all just fun and games, an innocent social pastime,

and we should let the gospel speak to more important matters?

Does sports really have such a firm grip on our culture?

Consider this.

The Pulitzer-Prize winning classic To Kill a Mockingbird

has sold fewer copies in the 50 years since it was published,

than Sports Illustrated sells every single month.

The World Almanac devotes more pages to sports

than for business, science, and politics combined.

A new American history textbook for fifth graders

treated the Great Depression and FDR’s presidency in 33 lines,

but devoted two pages to (one of my heroes)

retired Baltimore Oriole Cal Ripken Jr.

Sports is something we, and our culture, highly value.

We do allow it to form our identity as persons,

to shape our loyalty as members of a human community,

to prioritize how we spend our money, our time,

and our emotional energy?

And yes, the gospel speaks to matters of identity, loyalty,

and stewardship of resources.

But human beings have always valued athletic competition.

Even in biblical times, organized sports were present,

and influential enough that biblical writers

didn’t think twice about using sports

to make a point about the Christian life.

Biblical sports metaphors include

racing, boxing, and athletic training.

We heard one of these texts this morning.

In Philippians 3 the Apostle Paul talked about life as a race,

“forgetting what lies behind and

straining forward to what lies ahead,

pressing on toward the goal.”

We need this kind of encouragement.

We could also have read 1 Corinthians 9,

which reminds us we run the race together.

And the apostle adds, “I do not run aimlessly,

nor do I box as though beating the air.”

And we heard the prophet Isaiah, in chapter 40,

remind us that God gives us strength when we are weak.

Like a marathon runner about to fall exhausted,

God will lift us up, renew our strength,

give us wings like eagles.

So we can run and not be weary, walk and not faint.

_____________________

But we can’t stop with those texts.

I think when it comes to modern sports,

there is more biblical discernment to be done,

than read the verses that say

run hard, train hard, push yourself to the end.

There’s much wisdom in these texts, pertaining to the Christian life:

persistence, discipline, working together.

But there is more to be said,

at least if we dare allow ourselves to hold up the culture of sports

and shine a gospel light on it.

Perhaps today’s gospel story of Jesus’ temptations in the wilderness

has more to say to us, in our sports-obsessed culture.

Jesus was tempted three times to veer away

from his God-given identity and calling,

and to become something less than God meant him to be . . .

when Satan presented him with these powerful temptations

to prove his worthiness by working a miracle,

turning stone into bread and satisfying his hunger . . .

to be given immense wealth and power and fame . . .

and to do the spectacular, to consider himself invincible.

Can you think of any sports heroes who fell for those temptations?

Can you think of many who haven’t?

Including the (quote) “Christian” ones?

In using sports metaphors,

Biblical writers could not have envisioned

the dominating force that sports has become in our culture,

a force that is economic, psychological, social, and

yes, religious.

In 2005 the Pope convened a major international symposium in Rome,

led by the Church and Sport Section

of the Pontifical Council for the Laity.

Scholars, athletes, coaches, and clergy from all over the world

came together for this spiritual sports summit.

They issued a summary paper afterward,

containing, as you would expect, a number of affirmations

for the positive role sports can play in our lives.

But they also issued this strong cautionary word, and I quote:

“In many people’s lives,

sport has acquired an importance

that goes beyond that of mere amusement or entertainment.

For many of our contemporaries sport has become a way of life . . .

a factor that . . . determines a sense of identity and belonging,

[and] the meaning of life itself.

And that is not all: sport has become, in every respect,

a surrogate for religious experience . . .

In our secularized society,

sports events have taken on the character of collective rituals . . .

Stadiums and gymnasiums are like temples to this

‘new religion’ . . .

Far from [aiding] the healthy growth of the individual person,

the practice of sport is increasingly threatening people . . .

enslaving them to themselves, to imposed fads and fashions,

and to the [economic] interests

which are concealed behind sports events.”

Only a game? We should, at least, wonder.

But I’m still an avid sports fan.

As are many of you.

I thoroughly enjoy this time of year.

The World Series is thrilling competition.

I freely admit I’ll be watching it tonight.

Although some of you would be happier if it was

World Cup soccer,

or the bowl season of College Football

or March Madness, the Stanley Cup, the Super Bowl,

Wimbledon, or the Masters.

Is it okay to get excited about these things?

I certainly hope so.

Because I don’t think I can just turn off a switch

and become disinterested.

But is there a spiritual or moral limit to my fandom?

_____________________

How many of you admit, as I do, to being a sports fan?

Do you know the meaning of the word “fan”?

Fan is simply a short form of the word fanatic,

which comes from the Latin word fanaticus,

meaning “inspired by a deity, frenzied.”

And that word derives from fanum, Latin for “temple.”

In a temple, frenzied, inspired by something god-like.

Hmmm.

Sounds like the modern use of the word,

isn’t too far from the original, is it?

So how should a Christian be a fan?

What does a fan look like,

who has been shaped first by the gospel,

and only secondarily, by the sport?

How does a gospel-shaped fan

root, root, root for the home team?

Does cheering on our favorite athletes necessarily have to include

joining in with all the mob behavior that sports has made normal?

Like boo-ing opposing players?

Or boo-ing one of our own players

who made an unfortunate mistake?

Or hurling verbal abuse on the officials?

And let’s not imagine this kind of behavior

is limited to professional sports.

We’ve all seen it evidenced by parents at their own kids’ games.

Even, occasionally, at church-league games.

I’ve often seen it at our own small-town baseball institution,

the Harrisonburg Turks,

which Irene and I frequent on summer evenings.

I’ve been known to groan loud enough to be heard by the ump,

or to holler out a one-word question . . . “Whaaaa-aaatt?”

But I do draw the line at name-calling,

or shouting insults,

or boo-ing the players or officials.

I just can’t bring myself to do that,

even though our sports culture blesses that behavior

as just “part of the game.”

If sports are supposed to be a character-building enterprise,

and teach us the lofty values of teamwork and

the persistent pursuit of excellence,

why wouldn’t a gospel-shaped fan

find some measure of joy in seeing an excellent performance,

even if it occurred on the other team?

why wouldn’t we cheer and congratulate anyone

who made a truly outstanding play,

and exhibited the highest level of athleticism?

Once in a great while,

this kind of sportsmanship comes out in amazing ways.

Often by the players themselves.

A couple years ago, a women’s softball player of average ability,

in her senior year at Western Oregon University,

did something she never did in all her four years of college,

or high school.

She hit a home run.

But after rounding first base, she collapsed with a knee injury,

and couldn’t make it any further.

Rules dictate a runner has to touch all four bases to score a home run.

If a pinch runner is sent in, it’s only a single.

If any of her teammates assist her, she’s automatically out.

So while she lay on the ground in pain,

two of the players on the opposing team, Central Washington,

came to her aid, and carried her around the bases,

helping her touch every bag,

and giving her the home run she deserved,

and keeping them from moving on to the championship.

Sportsmanship? I would say so.

But even more,

it’s what the gospel word would have said for us to do.

Even on the athletic field,

God’s priorities don’t change, do they?

Doesn’t God still have compassion for those in pain,

for the least of these,

for the weaker ones among us?

Is it necessary to forget that little gospel truth,

in order to be a good athlete, or a good fan?

Must we wish ill on all our opponents?

Must we sulk in despair when the better team wins,

and it’s not our team?

Geoff Bowden, a professor at Malone, in Ohio,

wrote an essay about Christian fandom,

which he entitled, creatively,

“Would Jesus wear face-paint?”

In that essay, he says this:

“Good-natured competition and light-hearted ribbing

of opposing fans and referees

constitutes a moral practice that is healthy for us,

but only if we keep it properly ordered

within the larger hierarchy of human goods.

When we begin to think being a fan is an activity

that can be wholly separated from being Christian,

we have crossed a line.

No activities, relationships, or practices

are outside the lordship of Christ.”

Now, some people might object to taking this all too seriously.

It’s only for fun.

It’s only a game.

Sports is kind of like theater.

We only pretend to love the hero and hate the villain.

But when we devote so much of our time and emotional energy

cheering for our teams,

and villifying the teams we love to hate,

I do have to wonder if it does anything to our patterns of thinking,

if it impacts our emotional responses to other life situations.

Does it prepare us for a gospel-shaped life,

in which our identity in Christ

makes it instinctive to pick up those who have fallen down,

rather than pass by on the other side?

Does it prepare us for a gospel-shaped life,

in which we are called to give our all to God,

and to God’s kingdom?

Would you turn in your hymnal to #389,

“Take my life and let it be consecrated . . .”

Before we start singing this song,

position yourself where you are in regard to sports,

as an avid fan,

as a parent of a young player,

as a coach,

or as a player yourself, at the youth league level,

or on a school team, high school or college.

Be thinking of yourself and your relation to sports,

as we sing together

about these parts of our lives that we consecrate to God.

And if you are one (of the very few here)

who have no interest or connection to sports at all,

then think of whatever it is you are passionate about,

and place yourself in that role as we sing together, prayerfully.

Take my life, and let it be consecrated, Lord, to Thee.

Take my moments and my days; let them flow in ceaseless praise.

Take my hands, and let them move at the impulse of Thy love.

Take my feet, and let them be swift and beautiful for Thee.

Take my voice, and let me sing always, only, for my King.

Take my lips, and let them be filled with messages from Thee.

Take my silver and my gold; not a mite would I withhold.

Take my intellect, and use every power as Thou shalt choose.

Take my will, and make it Thine; it shall be no longer mine.

Take my heart, it is Thine own; it shall be Thy royal throne.

Take my love, my Lord, I pour at Thy feet its treasure store.

Take myself, and I will be ever, only, all for Thee.

—Phil Kniss, October 31, 2010

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Phil Kniss: Renovating the Spiritual House

October 24, 2010

"What’s the gospel word on monasticism?"

1 Peter 2:1-12

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It’s hard to be a Christian.

We know it’s hard to be a Christian in some other parts of the world.

Where Christian activity is severely limited,

because government bans such activity.

Or where there is outright repression, persecution, or violence

directed at Christians.

But that’s not what I’m talking about.

It’s hard to be a Christian . . . here . . . today.

At least if we take our faith seriously.

Oh, it’s easy to take the name, and even wear it publicly,

engage in worthy Christian activities

like regular church attendance, communion,

doing mission and service,

being active in Sunday School and small group.

But living as an intentional Christian—that’s a challenge.

Which is exactly why there is such a thing as monasticism.

And exactly why you and I should consider such a thing.

I imagine many, if not most of you here, don’t have a clue

why I included in this series on contemporary cultural issues,

a Sunday to explore the gospel word on monasticism.

I imagine some of you think I might lecture on this

quaint, old, small, minority expression of the Christian life,

and draw on a few inspirational examples,

and find some way to

take some poignant lesson from them,

lift it out,

and apply it to our complex American life.

I don’t imagine any of you thought I would come here this morning,

and encourage all of you to consider monasticism.

Surprise!

Now, before any of you husbands and wives

grab onto your spouses’ sleeves for dear life,

let me assure you I am not going to say to anyone,

“Get thee to a nunnery!” as Shakespeare said,

or “Get thee to a monastery!”

That may be a noble calling.

But I think for that, only a very few are called.

But I want all of us to consider . . . deeply consider . . .

what monasticism is, why it keeps emerging in new forms,

and what elements of it we might, in fact, be called to practice.

_____________________

I had us listen to a reading of 1 Peter 2 this morning,

because this is a wonderful metaphor for the Christian life,

that we have much to learn from.

In this letter, the writer is appealing to the members of the church

to put away the sinful practices that so many of them

had fallen prey to.

He starts the chapter that way: “Rid yourselves, therefore,

of all malice, and all guile, insincerity, envy, and all slander.

Like newborn infants, long for the pure, spiritual milk,

so that by it you may grow into salvation.”

At the end of this section, he repeats his concern,

“Beloved, I urge you as aliens and exiles

to abstain from the desires of the flesh

that wage war against the soul.

Conduct yourselves honorably among the Gentiles.”

And in between these two similar appeals,

this passage paints a picture of how to structure our lives

to make this possible.

It’s summed up in this phrase, from verse 5:

“let yourselves be built into a spiritual house.”

And no, this cannot be re-interpreted—

as many individualistic American Christians have done—

to mean just an inward spiritual house, within my own soul,

where Jesus lives quietly, and privately.

The letter writer’s instructions are for the church, as a community.

We need to hear the plural “you,” clear in the original Greek,

but invisible in English,

unless you read it in the Southern Revised Standard Version:

“Y’all rid yourselves of malice, envy, slander, etc . . .

so that y’all may grow into salvation.

Y’all come to Jesus, the living stone,

and all y’all be built, like living stones,

into one spiritual house.”

The letter writer is telling the church

how to structure its life together,

so as to be one strong spiritual household.

Putting away these sinful practices, and experiencing a holy life,

is not something you can do alone.

It’s too hard.

So get together and help each other out.

All of you; be a royal priesthood.

That is, be each other’s connection to God.

Be a holy nation.

God chose you as a people. So be that people of God.

V. 10:

“Once you were not a people,

but now you are God’s people;

once you had not received mercy,

but now you have received mercy.”

V. 11:

“You are aliens and exiles in this world.”

And the only way to survive as aliens,

and maintain your identity as a people,

is to be built into this spiritual house.

A strong house that can both safeguard this treasure,

and be a place of welcome and hospitality,

for others to experience the treasure.

This is monasticism at its best.

The building of a spiritual house,

as a place to treasure the gospel,

to serve the needs of the world,

and to welcome the stranger.

_____________________

No, I don’t believe that all Christians are called to live

under one roof, out of one purse.

We may not be called to live in an intentional Christian community.

But we are called to live in a community of intentional Christians.

Say it either way.

But the Christian life was never meant to be lived alone.

Kyle Childress is a serious student of monasticism,

and—you might find interesting—

is a married pastor of a Baptist church in Texas.

He wrote an essay in the journal Christian Reflection,

in which he stated things pretty strongly.

Listen to him:

“If our people are going to live the Christ-like life, then they had better do it as a body or else they will never make it. Lone individuals trying to live faithfully cannot stand against sin, death, the Powers, and the overwhelming pressure of society. Church members, as individuals, are easy pickings for the Powers of Death; they will separate us, isolate us, dismember us, pick us off one at a time, and grind us down into the dust.”

You know, the earliest Benedictine monasteries

were the result of Christians trying to figure out

a sustainable way of living the Christian life

while society as they knew it—the Roman Empire—

was crumbling around them.

St. Benedict developed what came to be known as the

Rule of Life.

In a society where people struggled to get by, just survive,

Benedict organized a counter-culture way of life

that became like an island of stability.

He called these communities,

“Schools for the Lord’s service.”

Their way of life was summed up in the Latin phrase,

ora et labora . . . to pray and to work.

St. Benedict’s Rule became a model for community life.

In these communities,

people lived a life of prayer,

they served each other,

and they served the community around them.

And they welcomed others into their community.

They practiced hospitality.

It was a radical alternative society to the so-called

Dark Ages.

There is something similar, yet very different, going on today.

We also live in what might be described as a crumbling Empire.

The Christianized West, Christendom, is on its last breath.

The church has been pushed aside as irrelevant.

All citizens of our society, including Christians,

are being well-trained in the school of individualism,

and materialism,

and autonomy,

and self-determination.

We live hectic, and fragmented lives.

We don’t have the kind of communal life that can sustain

a consistent, Christian, moral life,

even at the most basic level.

Philosopher Alisdair MacIntyre, in his famous book, After Virtue,

said that a turning point in early history occurred when people

abandoned the task of shoring up the Roman Empire,

and gave up believing that civility and moral community

depended on maintaining that Empire.

So under St. Benedict’s leadership,

they created a kind of monastic community that changed Europe.

So MacIntyre ends his book by saying we too

have reached that turning point.

We need local forms of community within which

civility and the intellectual and moral life can be sustained

through the new dark ages which are already upon us.

And [quote] “if the tradition of the virtues was able to survive

the horrors of the dark ages,

we are not entirely without grounds for hope.

This time, however, the barbarians are not waiting on the frontiers;

they have already been among us for some time.”

He says our problem is our lack of consciousness that this is happening.

And his closing line is,

“We are waiting . . . for another—doubtless very different—

St. Benedict.”

In a similar vein,

theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote to his brother in 1935, saying,

“The restoration of the church will surely come from a sort of new monasticism which has in common with the old only the uncompromising attitude of a life lived according to the Sermon on the Mount in the following of Christ. I believe it is now time to call people to this.”

In fact, there is a growing movement in the Christian church today,

especially here in America,

called “new monasticism.”

And it is gaining traction.

It is being taken seriously by young adults,

and by pastors, and academics, and others.

Perhaps the most well-known face of “new monasticism”

in evangelical circles is Shane Claiborne,

who has had high-profile visits to EMU

twice in the last few years,

and was one of the preachers in the adult worship

at last year’s MCUSA assembly in Columbus.

Less well-known, but even more influential among the movement,

is Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove,

a well-educated 30-year-old living at Rutba House,

an intentional Christian community.

He could easily have built a name for himself in academics,

but instead is living with his wife and family

in this small Christian community with other singles and couples,

in a poor neighborhood in Durham, NC,

practicing radical hospitality,

welcoming recovering addicts,

engaging in a rhythm of morning and evening prayers,

raising food and sharing meals with their neighbors,

practicing economic sharing,

and teaching, preaching, and writing for the larger church.

His latest book is The Wisdom of Stability,

in which he as . . . yes . . . a 30-year-old young adult,

is promoting the idea of staying put, as a spiritual discipline,

not running off to something newer and bigger and better,

but working out your faith where you are now.

As an early desert father, Abba Anthony, said,

“In whatever place you live, do not easily leave it.”

About six years ago, Jonathan and his community

invited persons from new monastic communities all over

to spend some days together at Rutba House,

and share with each other what they were learning.

Out of this came what is known as 12 Marks of New Monasticism.

They are:

• Relocation to the abandoned places of Empire (that is, the deserts, the spiritual and economic and social wastelands)
• Sharing economic resources with the community and with the needy
• Hospitality to the stranger
• Lament for racial divisions and pursuit of a just reconciliation
• Humble submission to Christ’s body, the church
• Intentional formation in the way of Christ
• Nurturing common life
• Support for celibate singles alongside monogamous married couples and children
• Geographical proximity to community members who share a common rule of life
• Care for the plot of God’s earth given to us, and support of local economies
• Peacemaking in the midst of violence
• Commitment to a disciplined contemplative life

These are not new ideas.

Read the book of Acts.

Read the Benedict’s Rule of Life

Pull out the founding document for Anabaptists in the 16th century,

the Schleitheim Confession.

You will find many parallels.

This way of being Christian is not a new invention.

But it is a movement of people today, in our own culture,

in our town, and across our land,

who are saying to each other,

there has to be more to being Christian

than what the narrative of the American Dream

has been telling us for so long.

They are saying,

the life we’ve been taught to live,

cannot be the life for which God created us.

It’s too empty. And too full, at the same time.

It’s too fragmented. Too short-sighted. Too temporary.

They are rediscovering what is at the root of Christian faith.

Root . . . Latin, radix. Where we get the word radical.

These are radicals who are not fringe religious lunatics.

They are on to something important for us. For all of us here.

They are looking at what the “spiritual house”

called the Western church, has become.

They see it is broken, and falling down.

And they are seeking to renovate it.

They are trying an Extreme Makeover to our Spiritual House.

And we need to listen to them.

No, I’m not calling us all to sell all our houses and possessions,

and move in together,

and open one bank account.

That is not a wrong way to live out our faith.

But I wouldn’t suggest we are all called to that.

But we are—all—called to go to the deserts of this world—

to be with . . . the land and people

that the world is ignoring and abandoning.

Whether they are in the middle of a big city,

or in a part of our own small town that we usually avoid.

We are—all—called to share resources with each other and those in need.

We are—all—called to welcome the stranger.

We are—all—called to lament division and work for justice.

We are—all—called to submit to Christ’s body.

We are—all—called to nurture Christian community.

We are—all—called to care for God’s earth.

We are—all—called to reject violence and build peace.

We are—all—called to be disciplined and to contemplate God.

The question is how we can do that here and now.

If that is our common calling,

and the present way of structuring our lives makes that calling

difficult if not impossible,

what kind of restructuring might be called for?

How can we find ways to spend more time together,

living out a covenant with each other?

Almost anyone can do what it takes to go to church.

But can we be church in this way?

Can we be church for each other and for the world?

This is what we must figure out, together.

We must talk with one another,

and explore creative and faithful ways

to restructure our lives

so that the good, moral, Christian life is sustainable.

I don’t know what that will look like for all of you.

But I am certain it will need to be more than

going to church every Sunday.

Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove said

the roots of God’s kingdom are like rhizomes.

They spread beneath the surface, effecting change from below.

It is a quiet revolution, one often ignored,

but it’s how God plans to save the world.

He wrote, “It’s like the rhizome called kudzu

that covers so much of the South where I live.

God’s kingdom just won’t go away.

It is, as the book of Daniel says, a mountain

that grows to fill the whole earth.”

And then he concludes, as I will conclude,

“May we slip God’s kingdom in the cracks

of this world’s broken systems.

And may it spread like kudzu.”

—Phil Kniss, October 24, 2010

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Phil Kniss: To serve God and the land

October 17, 2010

Genesis 1:28, 31; 2:8-10, 15; 9:8-10, 14-17; Matthew 6:25-30

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When I opened this “what’s-the-gospel-word” series

with the subject of global wealth and poverty,

I said that topic was perhaps the easiest one

in which to find the gospel word,

because scripture had so much to say

about money and how we use it,

and about how God loves the poor.

This one is just as easy.

Scripture is packed with stories, psalms, and direct teachings,

that all speak clearly with one voice—

or in seminary-speak, “scripture is univocal”

on this subject.

There is nothing ambiguous about the “gospel word”

concerning God’s relationship with creation,

and about how God has called us to relate to creation.

That’s not to say we all agree on the specifics

of how best to take care of creation,

or where, and if, it might be necessary

to extend some grace or accept some compromise.

But there should be no doubt in anyone’s mind here

that an essential—not optional, but essential—

part of our lives as Christian disciples

is working for the improvement of,

and restoration of, this environment God has given us.

If we are seeking to please God with our lives on this earth . . .

and I trust we are . . .

there are so many aspects of our lives,

for which we do well to ground ourselves in the story of Creation.

If we are ever to live into our calling,

to live the life we were made for,

we need to start with Genesis 1 and 2.

You might have noticed, in this sermon series,

I’ve made a direct appeal to the creation story

in all but one of the sermons,

and I easily could have in that one.

That was not accidental. I’m not just on a Genesis kick.

You see, the Bible, as a whole, is not a random collection.

It has a plot.

The plot begins in Genesis with creation.

It ends in Revelation with a new creation.

And everything in between is a long story

of God working to save and redeem and restore creation,

which has suffered from the destructive forces of sin.

When we do theology,

we need to begin with God’s sheer delight and joy and, yes, ecstasy,

in the wonderful, and beautiful, and diverse creation,

created to give God glory.

One problem with many evangelical Christians

is that their theology begins with the cross,

and often gets stuck there.

“Jesus died for me, and for my sins.”

“I invite Jesus into my heart.”

“I am saved and redeemed.”

That saving work of Christ in our lives,

to redeem and transform us,

is, of course, important and even necessary to affirm.

It’s true that Jesus makes all the difference,

in our ability to live a whole life.

But when we start with the cross,

and don’t look backward or forward,

we end up with a very human-centered, individualistic

brand of Christian faith.

A brand of Christian faith that has often been far too slow

to see Creation Care as central to our walk with God.

A brand of Christian faith that

has sometimes even been outright hostile to the idea

that we need to treat the earth with love and respect,

because I’m saved,

and this world’s all going to burn up anyway.

_____________________

But happens when we start with this wonderful creation narrative?

What happens when we start with the story that

God created the world in beauty and wholeness and shalom,

and after God’s human creation rebelled

God’s full-time project is bringing creation back to shalom?

Well . . . what happens is that

the cross of Jesus Christ finds its rightful place.

The cross stands at the apex, the pinnacle, of this sweeping saga

of God’s work to save and restore all of creation.

It was not just for me and my sins that Jesus died.

It was for all the brokenness in creation

that resulted, directly or indirectly, from human sin.

And the other thing that happens is that we see God in the right light.

We begin to grasp the intimate, loving relationship

God has with all creation,

even in its broken state.

And therefore we get a more complete picture

of how we are meant to relate to God and creation.

It’s all spelled out in Genesis.

We heard part of both creation stories, Genesis 1 and 2.

In both, we saw how much God loved and valued creation,

and how God put us in charge—us humans—

to take care of things the way God would take care of it.

Genesis 1: “God saw everything that he had made, and indeed,

it was very good.”

And, God blessed the male and female humans he just made, and said,

“Be fruitful and multiply, fill the earth and subdue it;

and have dominion over the fish of the sea

and over the birds of the air

and over every living thing that moves upon the earth.”

Some well-meaning, environmentally-minded Christians

have tried to downplay, or re-interpret that word “dominion,”

because it’s been so misused.

I won’t do that.

Dominion is exactly what it sounds like.

It is a God-like power and authority.

And—just like God’s power—our power is defined by love . . .

and . . . limited by love.

God loves this world intimately.

And God entrusted its care into our hands,

has given us both the authority

and the responsibility, to act on God’s behalf.

God trusts us to use our power to love the earth and its creatures

the same way God does.

Then in the second story, Genesis 2,

God prepared the Garden for human enjoyment and use,

and Adam and Eve were put into it to “till it and keep it.”

Till and keep.

Despite how that sounds to our modern ears,

that verse is not saying we have the right

to make the land do our bidding,

to dig it up and throw it around and make it serve our purposes.

It actually says it the other way around.

That’s “keep” as in, the keeper of the gate,

the one who guards and protects what is precious inside.

We are earth-keepers, earth-protectors.

And when we hear the word “till” we right away think “dig.”

The Hebrew word that’s translated “till” . . .

occurs almost 300 times in the Old Testament.

In the vast majority, over 250, it’s translated “serve.”

Literally, the word that God uses,

when God tells Adam and Eve to “till” the garden,

is the very same word that God uses,

when God tells the people of Israel to “serve the Lord your God.”

Exact same verb—

till the garden, serve the Lord.

It’s spelled out right there in Genesis, in plain sight.

We are to treat the earth, the same way we are to treat God.

With love, respect, reverence,

We serve God and the land.

To do otherwise, is an insult to Creator God.

And it is sin.

And we heard in chapter 9 in Genesis, that in the days of Noah,

God made a covenant with us, and with all living creatures.

After the great flood God made a covenant with all creation

and put up a rainbow as a reminder—a reminder for God.

“When the bow is in the clouds, I will see it

and remember the everlasting covenant between God

and every . . . living . . . creature of all flesh that is on the earth.”

How often do you stop to think about the fact

that God is in covenant with all the animals and birds,

with every living creature on earth?

It should occur to us at least as often as we see a rainbow.

God is in love with this world. The one we live in.

God loves the earth and everything in it.

Even . . . the smallest things. Remember Matthew 6?

The tiniest sparrow, the most delicate lily, the grass of the field.

Even . . . in its broken state, God loves this world.

_____________________

Having established that,

I could now build a strong case,

based on should’s and ought’s.

I could moralize about what we ought to do,

if we really believe God loves and cares for the earth.

I could build a spiritual lesson on this model:

If A is true, then we ought to do B.

And I could go on and on about our responsibilities.

But we don’t start with our should’s and ought’s.

We start with seeing, with grasping, the awesome work of God.

We grasp God’s intimate relationship with creation,

God’s purposes for and delight in what God created.

We grasp God’s all-out effort, since the day sin entered the picture,

to restore and save and redeem creation . . .

and especially to restore shalom between God and humankind.

If we see our relationship with God in that clear light of day,

we will see our relationship with creation in the light as well.

We will get it.

Getting our relationship with God right,

and getting our relationship with creation right,

are two things, that by very definition, go hand in hand.

It is impossible to respect God, and disrespect creation, simultaneously.

It cannot be done.

_____________________

There are a number of good metaphors in scripture,

that describe God’s relationship with creation.

One of those is found in Psalm 104, where it says,

“O LORD my God, you are very great.

You are clothed with honor and majesty,

wrapped in light as with a garment.”

Old Testament scholar John Stek expanded on this metaphor

by suggesting that all creation is like a robe God wears.

He called creation God’s “glory-robe.”

Creation is a garment that enhances the glory of God.

It’s not the same as God.

But identified closely with God.

It reveals God’s beauty and personality,

in much the same way that well-chosen clothing does for us.

It’s something that gives God joy and delight

like putting on a favorite outfit.

Clearly, we cannot say we show respect for God,

when we spit on the clothes

that God designed, made, and is wearing.

Another biblical image

is that creation is a symphony of praise.

The thunder proclaims God’s power,

the birds sing God’s praises,

the trees clap their hands.

The psalm we read together this morning was full of this imagery.

Praise him sun and moon!

Praise the Lord, you sea creatures!

Mountains and hills, fruit trees and cedars,

Wild animals and all cattle, creeping things and flying birds!

Kings and all peoples, princes and all rulers

Men and women, old and young!

Let them praise the name of the LORD!

Scott Hoezee, a Christian Reformed pastor in Michigan,

said these words in an interview, and I quote,

“In the preservation of the physical cosmos

we are helping to preserve and perpetuate

what to God is a most beautiful song of praise.”

Scott said, “I [want] to turn the ecological movement

of preservation of species, habitats, and the like

in a decidedly biblical direction:

to see those efforts as not merely keeping alive this or that species

for our grandchildren to enjoy, though that’s a noble goal,

but also as keeping all of the members of God’s choir in place.”

So did you ever think about that?

When we shrug our shoulders

at the extinction of yet another little species?

That’s taking away another voice part in the choir God put together

for the express purpose of singing God’s praise

to all who will listen.

We are diminishing creation’s capacity to praise God.

_____________________

I’m not here this morning

to create a laundry list of sins and virtues,

in terms of our everyday practices . . .

it’s probably not the most helpful to make a list

of what cars Jesus would drive,

or what soap Jesus would use,

or at what temperature Jesus would set the thermostat.

Yes, we need to keep sorting that out together,

learning as we go along.

But this morning I do hope and pray that what we do

is adamantly refuse to accept the argument we often hear,

that these things don’t matter.

I do hope and pray that we don’t make decisions based on

what is most convenient for us,

or what will save us money.

Buying the cheap thing,

and buying the right thing,

are often not the same thing.

I worry that what motivates so much

of the anti-environmental movement out there—

people who are looking for tiny flaws in a process,

or one weak spot in an argument,

so they can through all the science out the window,

and ignore the big picture—

I worry that what motivates them . . . us . . .

is personal, short-term impact.

The truth really is hard to hear.

It is not only inconvenient.

It is costly.

If there are any who have good reason

to look past the short term,

to live for the long-term,

it ought to be people of faith.

Faith is not afraid of delayed gratification.

People of faith know that commitment requires sacrifice.

Like I said, we don’t have to all agree, in the end,

on all the specifics.

But I hope I don’t ever hear any of us who claim to follow Jesus,

make the ridiculous argument

that it’s not a priority to care for the earth.

It is our priority.

Because it is God’s priority.

God is working hard right now

for the redemption and restoration of creation.

We need to join God in that work.

It’s our divine calling.

So let us serve God and serve the land God made.

The Great Creator is still creating,

There’s a hymn that says,

As each far horizon beckons,

may it challenge us anew,

children of creative purpose

serving others, honoring you.

May our dreams prove rich with promise,

each endeavor well begun.

Great Creator, give us guidance

till our goals and yours are one.

Let’s sing together hymn #414, God who stretched the spangled heavens

—Phil Kniss, October 17, 2010

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