“Come again? Say again? Again?”

Posted by stpauls on October 4, 2009 under Sermons |

“Come again? Say again? Again?”

I don’t know how many of you watch Little Britain. Little Britain is a comedy show produced by the British Broadcasting Cooperation and airs here on BBC Canada. It is quite something, to say the least. It is disrespectful, offensive, irreverent, rude, distasteful, outrageous, shocking, extreme, not suitable for children, well, it is … English. And it is funny – in a rather disconcerting way. Nothing remains sacrosanct.

One reccurring scene takes us to a self-help group of people trying to lose weight. The leader of this self-help group in Little Britain is everything but supportive. She is impossible! Despite being in the same boat as everybody else, she comes down hard on the other participants. And I mean HARD. She thinks she knows everything, feels superior to everybody else, talks down to others, and is condescending in the worst sense of the word. The leader of the group really doesn’t get it. And while she makes you laugh, you do want to slap her.

One of the other members of the support group is a woman of South Asian descent. Her English has a slight accent, but is impeccable. Yet, just because she is South Asian, the leader never seems to understand her. She always asks: “Come again? Say again? Again?”

Of course, this is how the show – in a rather outrageous way – points to the subtle and the not-so-subtle racism that is oh-so-present all over our Western societies, not just in the UK. But there is more: Little Britain might “just” be a comedy show, but there is a kernel of truth in how it portrays people who feel that that they are better, who think they are part of the in-crowd, the elite, yet, who in the end have no clue whatsoever.

“Come again? Say again? Again?”

I wonder if Paul – when dealing with the Galatians – felt like the South Asian woman in Little Britain. The Galatians sure thought of themselves as superior, considered themselves to be the elite and they sure could be patronizing. And they, too, didn’t get it. They just didn’t grasp the profound depth of the message of the Gospel, which alters lives radically and turns people around 180 degrees. Paul had tried, had tried hard to make this understood. Yet, all that the Galatians had to offer was a condescending “Come again? Say again? Again?”

Yes, the Galatians had skills, which they did use for the life of the church, but they had started to rely on their own skill-set, rather than rely on the One, who had gifted them these skills. They had forgotten how to be grateful, building their strength on their own achievements. But this is no secure foundation! As one commentator wrote: “It is not that […] the Galatians wish[ed] any intentional evil; it is simply that [they were] dazzled by [their] own brilliance, literally stupefied by [themselves.]”¹

And Paul had had it. In fact, by the time he writes his letter he is so outraged that he calls the Galatians “foolish,”² or in modern parlance: “stupid idiots.” What Paul proclaims, what he had experienced in his own life, and what the Galatians seem to not understand is this: the Gospel, the good news of God in Jesus Christ, is a radical message: God did not become one of us in Jesus Christ to be in awe with our skills and to stroke our ego. But in Jesus, God heals us, restores us to the beauty that God intends for us, and in Jesus, God radically challenges the way we do things. How did Paul put it in today’s text? “A new creation is everything!”³ A new creation! Outrageous! We all know how much humans like “newness,” after all that implies change, which is so hard…

Yet, Paul doesn’t want change for change’s sake. But the call for a new creation comes from the realization that our old ways suck the life out of our souls and suck the life out of the souls of those around us. God can see beyond our supposed skills and can point out our ignorance. God can make out the emptiness, the darkness, and the death that so often lie behind our accomplished masks, behind the facades we build. And God can reveal to us the emptiness, the darkness, and the death that our lifestyles create in the lives of others. Just like the Galatians, we might not “wish any intentional evil; it is simply that we are dazzled by our own brilliance, literally stupefied by ourselves.”⁴ Too often we just are blind to the needs of creation, the needs of our neighbours, and the true needs of our soul.

Yet God’s way is a different way. It is a way of life for all, for our souls and minds and bodies, and for the souls and minds and bodies of those around us, of all of creation. This is the challenge of the Gospel. It challenges us to change radically. It challenges us to die; not necessarily a natural death, but die to our human ways, which harm us in body, mind, and soul. The Gospel is not just a quaint story book, but it challenges us to change and to follow the life-giving ways of Christ not just a wee bit, not just in cultural ways, but with all that we are and all that we have.

No wonder that the Galatians didn’t understand. No wonder the Galatians didn’t want to understand.

“Come again? Say again? Again?”

There are fascinating parallels between the Galatians and the people of Assisi some eight centuries years ago. Or I should say the elites of Assisi, who produced a son who by responding to the radical challenges of the Gospel radically challenged the way things were done in Assisi.

Unfortunately, over time we have turned Francis of Assisi into a cute, quaint saint, not unlike what the Galatians and people of Assisi did to the gospel. We celebrate Francis by blessing pets and animals and make a huge affair out of it. And, yes, I thoroughly enjoy myself participating in it.

But why we do bless critters on this day?

Well, it is because the people of Assisi wouldn’t listen. It is because they were condescending idiots, who could only ask: “Come again? Say again? Again?”

By the time Francis came around, the Christian message in Assisi had degenerated into a cultural thing. Prayer and spiritual formation had become something left to professionals and to fanatics. The sacraments had become markers for life-events rather than events that marked life. There was not much left of the radical challenge of the Gospel. Consequently, they had grown blind: They would not see the beggars in the street, wouldn’t recognize the sick on their doorsteps, wouldn’t offer compassion to those in despair, wouldn’t share the good news of God in Jesus Christ.

Yet, Francis had been embraced by God’s compassion, God’s salvation, and God’s love. In return, he had embraced, he had literally hugged, a leper. Francis understood that the message of the Gospel could not leave things as they were. Things had to change.

So, he proclaimed the Gospel with gusto. He preached the good news in word and deed. God’s endless and abundant love had penetrated every fibre of his being and he in return had given all that he was and all that he had. No wonder the people of Assisi would not understand. “Come again? Say again? Again?”

The only creatures who would listen were the animals. They came, because they recognized that the Creator of all things spoke through Francis. And this is Francis’ connection to animals.

Of course, this is a legend. And, yes, the life of Francis teaches us that ecological stewardship including the care for all of God’s animals is part of God’s plan for us. But let us not turn this 12th-Century saint into a mere story-book character. Let us have ears to hear and eyes to see and let us listen to Francis as he preaches a radical message, as he preaches the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

The life of Francis reveals that Christ’s radical love seeks us out, all of us, each and every one of us. And Christ’s radical love invites us to let ourselves be taken into God’s compassion: with all that we are and all that we have.

Today, we will be challenged radically in our service too. Not just by the Gospel, which always prods us, but also by a liturgical change: At the offertory you are invited as always to respond to the good news of God in Jesus Christ with the offering of your life and labour. However, today the collection plate will not come to you. It won’t be as comfortable as that. But today we ask you to make a commitment. Today, if you are able to walk, we ask you to get up from the pew and walk to the collection plate, which will be placed on the altar. It is a way to make real with our bodies what we proclaim with our lips:  “to love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength” and to love “your neighbour as yourself.”⁵ It is a small yoke to take up, a small burden to carry.  But it is a small token to commit to the One who has compassion for us, who loves us like no other, and who has called us into life, called us to new life.

Footnotes
1 Portaro, Sam: Brightest and Best, A Companion to the Lesser Feasts and Fasts, Cambridge, MA 1998, p. 176
2 Galatians 3.1
3 Galatians 6.15
4 Cf. footnote (1)
5 Mark 12.30f

[The Reverend Markus Duenzkofer delivered this sermon on October 4, 2009.]