Paradox -- 2 Corinthians 12: 2-10 -- Portions of sermon for St. James Lutheran

2 I know a person in Christ who fourteen years ago was caught up to the third heaven—whether in the body or out of the body I do not know; God knows. 3 And I know that such a person—whether in the body or out of the body I do not know; God knows— 4 was caught up into Paradise and heard things that are not to be told, that no mortal is permitted to repeat. 5 On behalf of such a one I will boast, but on my own behalf I will not boast, except of my weaknesses. 6 But if I wish to boast, I will not be a fool, for I will be speaking the truth. But I refrain from it, so that no one may think better of me than what is seen in me or heard from me, 7 even considering the exceptional character of the revelations. Therefore, to keep[a] me from being too elated, a thorn was given me in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to torment me, to keep me from being too elated.[b] 8 Three times I appealed to the Lord about this, that it would leave me, 9 but he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power[c] is made perfect in weakness.” So, I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me. 10 Therefore I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities for the sake of Christ; for whenever I am weak, then I am strong.

(2 Corinthians 12:2-10)

Something weird about me and certainly a few other people in this world is that I enjoy paradox.  Those things that may seem logical but lead to an impossible conclusion – or situations that combine things that contradict each other and themselves – they make my brain hurt, and it feels so good when it does – and even that is a paradox!!!
Have you heard the one about the impossibility of motion?  That to get somewhere you must always go halfway, and then halfway again and again and again – therefore never actually reaching your destination?

Or the question – if a person says “I always lie” is that statement true or false?  Heh yeah, just think about that one for a moment!   Doesn’t it hurt so good?

But my very favorite paradox is right in this passage from 2 Corinthians...We usually remember Paul’s conversion story as told by the author of Luke-Acts – riding the horse, bright light, voice of Jesus, blindness – but here in Second Corinthians is Paul telling us his version.  He was caught up – and he tells us two times that he doesn’t know if he was in the body or out of the body as a vision – into the third heaven, into paradise.

And there he heard wordless words – some translations say “inexpressible” or “unspeakable,” but the Greek has “word” in both – wordless words – now THAT’s a paradox to make my heart go pitter pat, but it gets even better!!  The next thing he says is that these wordless words are not permitted for people to speak – and then he spends the rest of his life trying to communicate them.  Epic paradox, even if we don’t go on to power found in weakness and the rest of this incredible passage.

I think the reason that I love this particular paradox so much is because I think that it encapsulates all of what ministry is – trying to communicate these wordless words that can’t be spoken – because they hold a message of life and joy and salvation.  These wordless words tell us about God, about us, about the mysteries of life and death – and I would say that there is no way to adequately communicate these ideas.  So instead, pastors take snapshots.  Try to communicate a tiny piece – in a sermon, a prayer, a hospital visit, in communion, in an encouraging word.  We hold this incredible infinite jewel and try to communicate one tiny facet at a time that points to the whole.  It’s impossible.  It’s a paradox, trying to communicate something infinite and unspeakable in finite moments and in words.

Paul was comfortable with paradox.  Wordless words, communicating the unspeakable, power in weakness – and I think Paul’s paradoxes were beyond the human mind but solvable not because of who he was but whose he was.

The thing about pastors, ministry, and churches, is that the “who” changes an awful lot.  But what never changes is the “whose.”  We are in a state of constant transition with infinite stability.  And that stability is provided not by us or anything we do, but by God.  The church is not defined by who is in it but by whose they are.
  But even in that there is an incredible, glorious paradox – you see, the church may not be defined by you and me and our pastors or our neighbors in the pews – but what we do is incredibly important.  It is desperately important for us and for the world that we are here.  It means something.
Yes, in a hundred years, there is almost a 100% guarantee that none of us in this room will still be living this life – but the church will still be, and what WE do makes a difference.  What we do today in this church makes a difference in how the love of God is communicated to future generations.  What we do makes a difference in how the church is perceived and received in the world.

What we do as people of God matters.  Sometimes in small ways as we encourage people, but sometimes in huge ways that we don’t even realize make an impact.

One of the things that I do at Christ Lutheran is lead what I call “Reconciliation Groups” – they are basically small discussion groups for CLC host members and members of our community who are gay or transgender who have been hurt by the church at large.  They have stories to tell, we have a willingness to ask for forgiveness on behalf of the Christian church.  It’s powerful, it’s healing.

One of the things that has been most difficult for me in leading these groups is hearing stories of abuse to young people that are attached to “I’m doing this because God loves you and doesn’t want you to go to hell.”  This abuse ranges from psychological and isolation to beatings to systematic sexual abuse to show people that “they aren’t gay.”  I have to be honest, I was naïve.  I had no idea when I started this ministry what would come up.  That stuff, if I even conceived it, was “out there” somewhere, and not in my community.  Not sitting with me and my church family trying to figure out how God’s love is present in all of this awfulness.

But I told you all of that to tell you THIS.  Every one of the abuse and trauma survivors say that they are on a journey to becoming healthy and whole people because someone intervened along the way.  And the ways of intervention can be seemingly microscopic.  Someone who asked if they were having a bad day, whether or not they answered honestly.  Someone who told them, even in a small way, that they had worth, that they deserved love, or that they were loved.  Someone who believed them when they tried to tell them what was happening, even if that person was powerless to stop it.

Every single one of these individuals has a story of a small way in which their story was re-written by another person.  They say that those small moments are what prevented them from staying in the pattern and becoming abusers themselves.  The people who gave them those moments usually have no idea.  But the ripples of healing and are incredible.  Not only for these people but in those they interact with, their families, and the pathway into breaking the cycle of abuse.

Whose we are and how we behave, what we do because of that has an eternal impact.  It is another paradox.  The church may not be defined by the individuals within it but when those individuals act upon their identity as followers in Jesus Christ they then define what the church will be for future generations.

Whose we are matters.  Whose we are means that we can bring love to individuals and to our community.  Whose we are means that at all times we are part of a bigger picture, an epic story, and an eternal plan.  Whose we are never changes though all around us might.

So I encourage you to enjoy times of transition.  Enjoy your stability in all the changes.  Enjoy the paradox!  For the rest, my friends, rejoice, be restored, be encouraged, have purpose together and be at peace, and the God of love and peace will be with you.  Amen.

Prayers for Today -- Stay Awake

God, you have told us that true power comes in weakness and compassion.  And so in times that are heavy with wrong, we come to you not in anger but in anguish.  We feel your passion for those created in your image that are far from you and feel alone, that are sick or hurting, those that are powerless, abused, unjustly imprisoned, and afraid, that are victims of violence both large and small, in body, emotion, or spirit.  And so, God, as circumstances are beyond our power and we come to you in weakness -- we pray today simply that we will stay awake.  That we will not become numb to pain beside us or across the world, but will feel with others as you do through Jesus Christ. 

God of Relationship, awaken us to those who do not know your saving love.  Give us passion for those who need to hear your words of life, forgiveness, and salvation, and we ask for opportunities to speak them.    

God who touched lepers, awaken us to the sick and the hurting in body, mind, or spirit.  Give us passion for those who are powerless due to physical impairment, overwhelming medical bills, or mental illness.  We ask for your healing.  God let the sick not be invisible to us as we seek to bring your life to those around us. 

God of Children, we ask that you would awaken us to these most powerless of those created in your image.  Jesus tells us that we receive him when we receive and protect children, yet instead we abuse, traumatize, separate, and imprison them. God forgive us.  Forgive us our numbness, our voyeurism, our complacency.  We cry out to you in our own powerlessness and ask that we may instead have your passion.   

God of All Nations, we ask that you would awaken us to the plight of your creation.  What you have pronounced good we have corrupted and endangered through sin and greed.  Have mercy on us. Let us see creation with your eyes – not as a resource to be used but as a beauty to preserve.  Give us your passion for all peoples, that clean air, fresh water, and peaceful environments would again be your free gifts to your creation.  Let us not become numb to war and violence, but in your compassion let us share in the pain and grief held by victims of all violence.    

God of the Church, we ask that you would awaken us to the desperate importance of your church in the world.  We ask for your passion for this family of faith, to be a counter-cultural force for love, generosity, forgiveness, justice, and unity.  You tell us and all your people to take up our cross and follow you – you shared the pain of the world on the cross and in this prayer we ask to overcome our numbness and share in that pain as well, confident that as your compassion brings hope to the world, ours through you will do the same. 

We ask these and all things in your name, our Passionate and Com-Passionate Lord and Savior Jesus Christ-- Amen.

The Postmodern Human Condition: Burning Grief, the Abyss, and the Weakness of Love

A Luther Seminary Master's of Divinity Paper
Spring, 2018

The Postmodern Human Condition:
Burning Grief, the Abyss, and the Weakness of Love

            The transition from modernity to postmodernity has been a puzzling and even paralyzing one for academics and pastors alike.  The modern certainty and confidence in reason and ability to understand the world has been replaced by a postmodern pluralism, acknowledgement of radical “otherness,” and paradox.  This transition has confounded many Christian leaders; attempts to reach postmodern individuals through modern thought processes are fruitless, and these failures create despair in those who could help others cope with this new world.

Christian leaders and theologians have an opportunity brought by postmodernism to emerge with a more truthful representation of our faith and of Jesus Christ.  The postmodern condition is one of hopelessness and a lack of foundations; the metaphysical God and subsequent empty discussions of providence and a theology of glory cannot answer to this any more than the culture of pluralism and consumerism can.  In contrast, a theology of the cross includes an acknowledgement of the grief that results from any relationship, particularly the relationships within a triune God.  This theology also acknowledges the chaotic abyss above which we all hover – an abyss ignored and rejected by a theology of glory. A true understanding of the nature of the divine love brought by Jesus Christ to the world can address the postmodern condition and provide hope which is the “spirit, the aspiration, the very respiration of God’s spirit, of God’s insistence… Hope that dares to say ‘come,’ dares to pray, ‘come,’ to what it cannot see coming.  Hope that is hope in the promise of the world.”[1]

GRIEF

            The postmodern experience is punctuated by precariousness and the ever-present specter of grief.  Though once the domain of philosophers, the contemplation of future grief and loss is now a common thought brought about by greater awareness of war, disease, and sudden violence.  Postmodern philosopher Jacques Derrida writes,

To have a friend, to look at him, to follow him with your eyes, to admire him in friendship, is to know in a more intense way, already injured, always insistent, and more and more unforgettable, that one of the two of you will inevitably see the other die.^[2]

This is the condition of grief with which we continually live, and though it is no different today than in modernity, postmodern individuals are more likely to be preoccupied with this knowledge. 

Mark Buchanan, in his recent book “Things Unseen,” extends this idea into longing for God and for the experience of God in eternity:

Isn’t that how you feel much of the time? That what you want the most—and most of the time you’re not even sure what that is—seems always out of reach? That your most robust laughter rings with the echo of your weeping? That your most joyous homecomings are haunted at the edges by unnamable sorrows? That your victories and breakthroughs are mixed with complaint and doubt? That something’s always missing? We were not created for earth alone. We were created for eternity.[3]

Ancient erotic literature addressed this feeling in a way which reason and modernity lost track of.  In descriptions and the experience of the beloved, “Presence itself points to absence,”[4] and “…the ache of longing and grief of remembering contradict the reports of joy when the absent one is imagined to be present.”[5]  This pre-emptive grief for the friend or the beloved is a natural state for postmodern individuals, which continues through actual experiences of loss. 

Jurgen Moltmann describes this experience of sorrow in spiritual terms:

“Sorrow is something deeper, something more intimate and more spiritual than mere pain.  Sorrow often penetrates right into what we call happiness, and even into what is truly happiness – happiness which is not yet sufficient for the person who sorrows, and before which he even trembles.”[6] 

Grief and the subsequent constant state of unrest in the postmodern psyche, take us naturally to the cross.  As Moltmann writes, “To understand what happened between Jesus and his God and Father on the cross, it is necessary to talk in trinitarian terms.  The Son suffers dying, the Father suffers the death of the Son.  The grief of the Father here is just as important as the death of the Son.”[7]

THE ABYSS IN POSTMODERN EXPERIENCE

            Anxiety and the emotional and spiritual experience of looking over a precipice are also characteristics of the postmodern experience.  Modernism put up blocks against this abyss, hoping to fill it with reason, and the theologies of providence and glory were results of these blocks.  Religion presented and perceived as false expressions of happiness, stability, and facades has been rejected by the postmodern soul unable to believe in these falsehoods.  We have feared to acknowledge the abyss in our faith communities and pulpits, afraid that acknowledging our own lack of knowledge and certainty will destabilize our communities.  The postmodern understanding of “radical otherness,” where individuals feel disconnected from others could be met through an acknowledgement of the abyss.  Caputo writes, “In the postmodern world of advanced transportation and information technologies, the multiplex and multicultural diversity of life now comes rushing in upon us, inundating us in waves of differences.  We postmodern people are becoming less and less identical with ourselves, and more rapidly so with each passing day.”^[8]  Elizabeth Jantzen, exploring the work of Medieval mystic Hadewijch, also extends this idea into religion: “Once one has looked into the nihilistic abyss and found the abyss returning the gaze, then the untroubled empirical imagination of Anglo-American philosophy of religion can hardly seem other than naïve.”^[9]

            In contrast to this naive theology of providence that cannot address the postmodern world, the abyss is precisely where God is found.  Our congregations, friends, neighbors and we ourselves are guaranteed to find ourselves in these precipice experiences.  Theology of the cross addresses these experiences honestly and forthrightly.  Gerhard Forde addressed this even without considering the postmodern condition:   

The cross cannot be considered therefore as one option among several in our attempts to see God.  The cross shuts down alternatives.  It destroys the wisdom of the wise.  It blinds the sight of the theologian of glory.  What is revealed is precisely that we don’t know God.[10] 

Though this abyss of the unknowable is frightening, it is real, and it is precisely in embracing this reality that we can reach postmodern individuals who truly have nowhere else to turn.  Caputo writes, “This darker dialogue takes place among communities of faith, communities of those without community practicing an unconditional faith, a faith without protection from doubt.”^[11]

THE WEAKNESS OF LOVE

            Jantzen and Hadewijch find this chaotic, unknowable abyss to be a generative force, one in which we can find the creativity of God.  “Whatever other meanings the abyss carries in Hadewijch, it is fundamentally a womb.  It is the depths of love from which God is brought into the world, first in the incarnation, and then as the soul is born into the divine and the divine brought to birth again in the soul.”[12]  This creativity is ultimately a characteristic of the way God loves the world.  Moltmann contended that “Creative love is ultimately suffering love because it is only through suffering that it acts creatively and redemptively for the freedom of the beloved.”^[13] 

            Because postmodernity is beginning to discover, if not in power systems then in the souls and hearts of individuals, that progress as we have imagined it has only led to empty consumerism, manipulation in marketing, and social fragmentation as well as war and environmental destruction, theology that understands that God’s love and incoming kingdom as the antithesis to these developments can address the lack of satisfaction brought about by them.  In fact, as Caputo asserts, “…the mark of God in Christianity… is systematically found on the side of the “weak” features – of forgiveness, peace, nonviolence, poverty – not of the string or ‘virile’ features.”^[14]

            Ancient erotic poets and other writers understood this “weakness” as a feature of love.  According to David Frederickson, they describe a “wounded heart, tenderness, madness, ecstasy, intoxication – and sweetness!  These erotic motifs from classical literature describe the vulnerability of the lover to the beloved’s welfare and response.”^[15]  In fact, “…eros is love when the beloved is present and pothos is love when the beloved is absent.  They teach us that there is no escape from the vulnerability to loss and grief written inside of love… there is no dichotomy that can insulate love from longing.”^[16]  Finding in the “Christ-Hymn” of Philippians that both human and divine love are characterized by desire for communion and suffering over absence, Frederickson contends that the love of Christ for humanity “…is not love at arms’ length.  Not pity, nor condescending grace… Like the lover of Latin elegy, Christ is defenseless against the power of love.  It conquers him and makes him a prisoner.  The Lord is a slave of love.”^[17] 

This outpoured love, not in subservience but in pure desire, is a love that is desperately needed by the postmodern world.  The perception is that the love of God has conditions, has exceptions, and therefore this indispensable love is rejected.  This is not something for pastors and theologians to shrug off as a symptom of the age. “For the loving God, nothing is a matter of indifference. Before an equivocal, an undecided God, nothing is significant.  For the God who in his love is free, everything is infinitely important.”[18]

Do we have an answer?  Moltmann writes, “If there were no God, the world as it is would be all right.  It is only the desire, the passion, the thirst for God which turns suffering into conscious pain and turns the consciousness of pain into a protest against suffering.”^[19]  He says that this is “…the open wound of life in this world.  It is the real task of faith and theology to make it possible for us to survive, to go on living, with this open wound.”^[20]

For some, this open wound can be described as nihilism, and the terror that accompanies it.  However, John Caputo finds in grace the ultimate nihilism.  He writes that “The nihilism of grace is hidden in plain sight.  It sits silently in the center of cosmic nihilism, waiting to be noticed, according to the logic of being for nothing, living life without why.  The nothing is the purifying fire of the gift, which burns off every why and wherefore.”^[21]  He continues that this grace “…issues in a view of human life that deprivileges the order of possessions, power, property, and prestige, and instead privileges a simplicity and poverty of life that is at odds with the rule of global capitalism and politics.”^[22] 

This grace, this kingdom of God, is more imminently a hope for the world now than ever before.  We hover at the edge of an abyss of deconstruction and despair, searching for satisfaction in materialism and other false gods.  But eventually as we come to face grief and a chaotic future, these things will prove empty.  “But the logos of the cross is not a recipe for impotence and nihilism.  On the contrary, it is the very tissue of hope in life.”[23] 

Moltmann’s conclusion was that

In the crucified God is the basis for a real hope which both embraces and overcomes the world, and the ground for a love which is stronger than death and can sustain death.  It is the ground for living with the terror of history and the end of history, and nevertheless remaining in love and meeting what comes in openness for God’s future.[24]

            Our conclusion can be the same.  Instead of rejecting the postmodern world with either attempts to entrench and shore up modernity or withdrawal, disengagement, and resignation toward a “dying church,” we can engage and embrace it.  Admitting that relationships are fraught with grief, we can uphold the grief inherent in the triune God.  Understanding that the abyss is part of the human condition and not a failure of character or faith, we can show that God is present in the abyss:  creative, generative, and restorative.  Viewing the love of God as weakness and desire instead of sovereignty and obedience, we can demonstrate and share this love with a broken world. 

                                                                                                                                               

---

[1] Caputo, John D. Hoping Against Hope: Confessions of a Postmodern Pilgrim. Fortress Press, Minneapolis, Minnesota: 2015  Pg 199

[2] Derrida, Jacques.  The Work of Mourning.  University of Chicago Press, Chicago: 2001. Pg 107

[3] Buchanan, Mark.  Things Unseen.  Multnomah Publishers, Colorado Springs:  2002.  Pg 44

[4] Frederickson, David E.  Eros and the Christ.  Fortress Press, Minneapolis: 2013.  Pg 48

[5] Frederickson, Pg 26

[6] Moltmann, Jurgen.  The Trinity and the Kingdom.  Harper and Row, San Francisco: 1981. 
Kindle edition, Location 692

[7] Moltmann, Jurgen.  The Crucified God.  Fortress Press, Minneapolis: 1993. Pg. 243

[8] Caputo, Hoping Against Hope, Pg 100

[9] Jantzen, Pg 256

[10] Forde, Gerhard O.  On Being a Theologian of the Cross.  William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, Grand Rapids, Michigan: 1997.  Pg 80

[11] Caputo, Pg 102

[12] Jantzen, Pg 249

[13] Moltmann, Loc 961

[14] Caputo, John D.  “The Weakness of God: A Radical Theology of the Cross” in The Wisdom and Foolishness of God, Christophe Chalamet and Hans-Christoph Askani, Editors.  Fortress Press, Minneapolis: 2015 Pg 32

[15] Frederickson, Pg 40

[16] Frederickson, Pg 151

[17] Frederickson, Pg 69

[18] Moltmann, The Trinity and the Kingdom, Loc 2225

[19] Moltmann, Loc. 796

[20] Moltmann, Loc 813

[21] Caputo, Hoping Against Hope, Pg 172

[22] Caputo, The Weakness of God, Pg 41

[23] Caputo, Pg 58

[24] Moltmann, The Crucified God, Pg 278