July 24, 2016
Text: Colossians 2:6-19
When I was in my twenties, I identified with what was then called “The Movement.” It wasn’t exactly definable, but we knew who we were. It included anti-war activism, simplicity of lifestyle, community, work for justice, and so on. Integral to it were reflection, critique, energizing and hope. The movement had a darker side, of course, but—on balance—I believe it was a powerful force for good in our society.
It wasn’t an institution. There were no qualifications for membership. You became part of it because it was exciting and hopeful. If you wanted to be in the Movement, you were in it. You worked for peace and justice because it seemed simply the best way to live. I took it for granted then, but, in retrospect, I recognize its unique joyfulness and power.
The early Christian church was also a movement. Today’s lectionary scripture is to one of those early communities, the Colossians. (The letter was probably not actually written by Paul but by a follower who, as was customary then, identified himself as Paul.) The focus of the letter is that Christ has disarmed the world’s rulers, authorities, and idolatries.
In our day, some of those powers Christ has disarmed are consumerism, the idolatry of capitalism, violence as a way of solving problems, and the fear and exclusion of the stranger. Christ liberates us from those powers, giving us access to the unlimited grace of God.
Paul begins his letter by recognizing the faithfulness, joy and love that characterized the Jesus Movement to which the Colossians belonged. (But as you listen to me read what he’s written, imagine he’s writing to us at Eighth Day.)
We always thank God for you, for we have heard of your faith in Christ Jesus and of the love that you have for all the saints because of the hope laid up for you in heaven. You have heard of this hope in the word of truth, the gospel that has come to you. It is bearing fruit among yourselves in every good work and as you grow in the knowledge of God. May you be made strong with all the strength that comes from his glorious power, and may you be prepared to endure everything with patience, while giving thanks to the Father who has enabled you to share in the inheritance of the saints in the light. He has rescued us from the power of darkness. (Col 1:1-14[1])
Who wouldn’t want to be part of the excitement of that movement?
We here at Eighth Day are actually more like the Colossians than we recognize. Our community is less an institution and more part of a Movement, bearing fruit, finding hope, and sharing in the inheritance of the saints. Let’s remember that we are a community of Jesus’ disciples.
Living in the Roman Empire, where expressing simple disagreement with the dominant consciousness could result in crucifixion, the Colossians would have been very aware of themselves as a distinct community, actively challenging the surrounding culture.
For Eighth Day, that is different. In our pluralistic American Empire, even our direct challenge to the dominant consciousness more likely results in an invitation to a TV interview on interesting religious communities than in persecution. Our culture is not challenged by us; it invites us in. For us, the threat is not crucifixion but assimilation into the dominant consciousness. It’s easy to forget that—as followers of Jesus—we are called to be a radical alternative to the culture. And, like the Colossians, we need this community and each other if we’re to have much chance living that radical alternative. As Americans, we live physically within the Empire. But as part of this community we live intellectually and spiritually at the edge of the Empire.
The most important task of this community is to incarnate Jesus’ alternative consciousness, enabling us to live lives of freedom, peace, and hope in the face of the idolatry, violence and despair that surround us. As Paul reminded the Colossians in the first century, followers of Jesus are offered alternative, energizing life, rather than the numbness and death embedded in the dominant culture.
Before I get too far along, let me make clear that this is not a question of “us” (who get it) versus “them” (who don’t). There are other people and communities “out there” (Christian and non-Christian alike) who are members with us of a much larger spiritual Movement away from the consciousness based on consumerism, power, violence, and despair and toward a consciousness based on simplicity, invitation, non-violence, and hope.
Despite the obvious differences, the danger to us in the American Empire has much in common with the danger to the Christians in the Roman Empire. Paul writes to the Colossians:
See to it that no one takes you captive through philosophy and empty deceit, according to human tradition, according to the elemental spirits of the universe, and not according to Christ. (v 8)
In our contemporary world, we also have philosophies and deceits working to take us captive.
One is despair: “Global warming threatens the human species; the rich are getting richer; the US political system is terminally dysfunctional, racism is poisoning society. The violence is terrifying, the anti-immigrant backlash is growing. Hope’s an illusion. What’s the use?” That’s the despair.
In contrast, I’m not sure we recognize how hopeful we are as a community and how much hope we give to others. In the face of a culture of despair, anyone who founds Academy of Hope or Bethany, anyone who works at L’Arche, anyone who offers rooms in their homes to refugees or to the homeless expresses a fundamental hope and faith in the coming of the Kin-dom. A community that gives hundreds of thousands of dollars to institutions of justice and charity or tens of thousands of dollars to individuals who need it lives with profound hope and faith in God’s creation. Those who work to expose and battle the racism embedded in our society are expressing a fundamental hope. We certainly don’t do these things perfectly, but we are part of a community that challenges the despair of the dominant consciousness.
The second deceit is the secular spirituality that claims that all truth is relative. “We all have our own values,” it whispers. “You have yours and I have mine; you embrace simplicity and value equality; I buy what I can afford; I know have to take care of myself first. Don’t preach to me about your values. Your narrow-mindedness is just another form of oppression.”
In contrast, in our faith, in our lives together, and in our work, we claim there is one truth revealed in love, sharing, sacrifice, and inclusion. Do we as a community recognize how our commitment to this one truth distinguishes us from the dominant consciousness that claims that all truth is relative? Many of us have taken on vegetarian or vegan diets out of concern for the earth. Others of us have tithed out of meager incomes. Some of you have given much of your lives to protest the evils of our country’s racism and injustice. Our community has discovered the joy in a deeper inclusiveness over lines of race, class, and intellectual and mental differences. These activities speak of a dedication to the holy truth of love.
Almost four years ago when I was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease, I told you about my fear of a future of increasing isolation and loneliness. I remember your crowding around to pray for me and my experience of your love for me. Some of you were quite aware of how difficult it can be to care for a demented person; you knew what sacrifice it would require. Yet you came to me specifically to promise you would stay with me throughout. That’s not a little thing. (The fact that my diagnosis was, happily, in error doesn’t change the love I feel for you and from you.)
Perhaps the most seductive and powerful of the idolatries we face is consumerism. Our culture is preoccupied with material needs and wants. Economic security trumps all other values. How many politicians, for instance, dare to advocate for policies that will lower the American standard of living, no matter how much consumerism threatens our society? But in the reading for today, Paul writes that:
Jesus has disarmed the rulers and authorities and made a public example of them, triumphing over them. (v 15)
I’d like to suggest that we actually believe this. Jesus has disarmed consumerism. We all struggle with it, of course; none of us is free of it. Yet we do struggle; we do understand the evil in it. Last fall I offered a course examining biblical attitudes toward wealth. All of us were quite aware that our study would challenge our ways of life intensely. Yet twenty-six people signed up and came out at 8:45 Sunday mornings for eight weeks. None of us underestimates the power of consumerism nor its seduction, but we do challenge it, offering teachings and classes, and—maybe most important—modeling for one another what a simpler lifestyle might look like.
There’s one more element of this movement we claim. One of the marks of Eighth Day is our sharing with one another our spiritual and emotional lives. We honor being real with one another; we give each other invitation to that kind of honesty. Each of us in a mission group and the many who are in one-to-one relationships, for instance, come together regularly to share with one or more other people the depths of our lives. We ask to be held accountable for our spiritual practices because—as much as we recognize the importance of those practices—we also know our tendency to let them slide. In a culture of extreme individualism, we’re distinguished from the dominant consciousness not only by our commitment to certain practices but also by our willingness to be accountable to one another for them.
For some of you—perhaps especially for visitors—this teaching may seem to be my trumpeting how-great-we-are-at-Eighth-Day; but any of you who knows me well knows that self-congratulations is rarely one of my many temptations. I tend to be a voice of critique. But in faithfulness to the gospel, in our celebration of our commitment, in recognition of our lives together, I simply must affirm our place within the Movement toward the Kin-dom. … We … are … part of the Jesus Movement.
From the letter to the Colossians and to Eighth Day again:
As you, therefore, have received Christ Jesus the Lord, continue to live your lives in him, rooted and built up in him and established in the faith, just as you were taught, abounding in thanksgiving. (Col 6:6-7)
Amen.
[1] Significantly edited true to spirit of the letter