Sermons

"I Am, I Am Not"

Delivered from the Pulpit of First Congregational Church by The Reverend Mark E. Long on March 15, 2009

Lections:  Ps. 82

                  Ex. 3.7-14

                  II Cor. 12.9-10

                  Jn. 10.31-39

She loves me, she loves me not; she loves me, she loves me not; she loves me - at least that is how I hoped my ritual of divination concerning my object of love of first, second, and almost all of third grade would end.  I know that this game of double-barreled doubt is customarily played with flowers but I played out of my hand with candy, often M & Ms.  A silly game of childhood, of course, what could eating M & Ms possibly have to do with the object of early "puppy" love, particularly when I was not above rigging the result.

These rituals of divination of this or that follow us through life.  As a youth, M & Ms were exchanged for basketball "makes" and the stakes climbed considerably higher such as whether I would do my homework.

As we continue to age, the rituals of divination become increasingly sophisticated and the stakes ever higher.  Similar to the belief of a gambler having an up and down day, we believe the next hand played will ensure us that "life loves us."  Sometimes it does, sometimes not so much.  Life loves me, life loves me not; life loves me, life loves me not and on it goes as we fearfully encounter wave after wave of evidence of life's indecisiveness about us.

At some point, often later than sooner, some sort of wisdom taps us to understand that it is not so much life's tossing us to and fro but our doubt about ourselves which lies at the root of our fear.  I love me, I love me not, I love me, I love me not - definitely not.

We find ourselves staring into the "face" of the fear that scares us most of all; we lack the love of the one that counts the most - ourselves.  This dis-ease gives rise to so many other related "faces" of fear that take shape inside its shadowy dysfunction.

We have all heard the sunny side up phrase, "God don't make no junk," but, honestly, don't many of you believe this phrase is more sunny than the evidence warrants?  Otherwise, why do we cleave to a religion that tells us we are sinners in need of rescue?  Something has gone horribly wrong somewhere in the process of getting us to today; we have a perception problem.

What has gone wrong we hear reflected in the story of Moses' standing barefoot (might as well have been naked for what he reveals) before a "burning bush" out of which a voice calls him to go and tell the Israelites that Pharaoh will let them go.  Moses would not be keen to do this, but the call gets even more difficult.  Go tell Pharaoh as well.

There is an impressive show of divine presence to accompany these words but not enough to get Moses past the flash of his imminent death so he blurts out; "Who am I to go do this?"  The voice tells Moses simply, "I will be with you."

Now for the devout, this should have been the end of the conversation but Moses, so unsure of himself he is more than unsure of the voices he hears, tries to get a deity name.  "Who shall I say sent me?"  Then comes this perplexing answer from the bush, not the name of a god, not the name of a lesser god even, not a name at all; "I AM WHO I AM.  Tell them that I AM sent you."

The story doesn't say so, but I can imagine Moses scrunching his face up in disbelief and repeating under his breath sarcastically, "I AM, just great."  Moses is not done with the protests and there will be more shows of power before this conversation is over and Moses is, if not convinced, at least willing to do as the voice commands.  But we have heard enough to carry my point.

Moses thinks himself I AM NOT, "I am God's junk."  I can't do this, no way; whoever I AM is, I AM is not me.  I can't; I won't do this.   The tape "loop" of "what ifs" plays in his head contrary evidence to the experience of standing barefoot before I AM.  The circus show was great but how does it help me to have seen it when I am standing before Pharaoh shakily telling him to do what he has no will to do.  This will all turn out badly, he seems to be thinking, and at several points along the way before and after the Israelites leave Egypt; it does.

But what Moses does not realize as he stands barefoot in front of I AM, or later in front of Pharaoh, St. Paul catches later so clearly in his second letter to the churches of Corinth:  "&whenever I am weak, then I am strong."  Paul explains to the Corinthians in context of his own odd experience of the Lord that "[the Lord's] grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness."  "So, I will boast," goes on Paul, "all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me."

This passage is embedded with spiritual wisdom but notable for me in the context of my thoughts is not that the power is "with" Paul but "within" him.  His belief is that the "power of Christ may dwell in [him]."  We either have then a form of Spirit possession of Paul by something outside of him, or Paul awakening to a power latent within him which surfaces in the moments he has the good sense to consciously get out of his own way.

Paul is either "I AM NOT' all moments except the moments when the Spirit comes into him and takes control of his faculties for a time or Paul is I AM all along but surface life leads him to believe something much less of himself.  There is another possibility, I admit, that Paul is "I AM NOT," and never is anything other than deluded.  (But evidence or show of divine power in my life tends for me to discount this.)

Paul seems to believe that he is I AM NOT and that the Spirit of Jesus, the Christ, has with his consent possessed him.  This is the essence of Pauline theology; I AM NOT but I can become I AM; not because I AM of my natural state but I AM by adoption or possession if you will.

But this is not the understanding of the true nature of man as set out in the tradition of the Israelites.  The Psalms says plainly in the scolding of the kings of the earth:  "You are gods, children of the Most High, all of you &"  Paul may not have picked up on this idea that I AM is the true nature of man but St. John did in his gospel. 

In John's stories, Jesus is never very far from being the object of a stoning because of the directness of his answers to the religious leaders' questions.  He speaks plainly what he thinks and doesn't seem to care how it comes out - the truth may sting but the truth will set its hearers free as well.  Some of Jesus' "truth" makes him sound remarkably blasphemous, e.g. "The Father and I are one."  Perhaps understandable in many ages of the church, folks start to pick up rocks.  Less literally today, some still do.

Our passage from John is one of these where Jesus challenges his critics:  "I do good works.  Why do you want to stone me?"  They return:  "It isn't your good works that bother us it is "making yourself God."  Jesus answers along the line:  Wait a second - isn't it written in your law (the Psalms), you are gods?  If 'you are gods' - and the scripture cannot be annulled - how can you say that the one whom the Father sends to help you understand things blasphemes because he says, 'I am God's Son?  He concludes the speech,   "if you don't believe me, believe in what I do so that you will understand that I AM."  John seems to believe that not only Jesus is I AM but everyone else as well and the proof is in the "doing," as Jesus says, the scripture cannot be annulled.

My adult choice, as yours, is not so different from my choice of elementary school days.  I can live in fear of who I AM NOT and play out my ritual of divination which may at the last, and at best, give me hope but a false hope that leads to dependence on something from somewhere else.

Or alternatively, I can recognize such rituals as human foolishness which keep me from listening for and to the voice that tells me that I AM and that the way to know whether my life will be with or without my love is to go ask her whether I can hold her hand.  It is in the doing, an active response to the call, that we are set free.

This is how I see it with one more "face" of fear confronted in Lent - this "face" reaching to the very foundation of why we can not see that our "faces" are those of God.  Amen.

Next week, we look into two "faces" of fear - pride and its first cousin anger - that arise out of the shadow of a misunderstood nature.