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“Love & Suffering”
I Corinthians 1.18-25
The Rev. Hal Chorpenning, Plymouth Congregational UCC
Fort Collins, Colorado
10 March 2024
 
Buddhism holds four Noble Truths: the first is the inevitability of human suffering; the next three involve the cause of suffering, its end, and the true path to end it.

Unlike our Buddhist sisters and brothers, suffering is something that many Protestants don’t talk about too often, perhaps because it is difficult. Our Catholic siblings are far more conversant with the topic, and some see suffering in itself as redemptive. Most Catholic churches feature a lot of images that illustrate the suffering of Jesus, including the crucifix: the cross with the corpus attached. Crucifixion is a horrific form of torture and execution that involves a painful and ignominious death and can be seen as human suffering at its worst.

Imagine yourself as one of Jesus’ followers in the days, the years, the centuries after the crucifixion. How do you explain the suffering of Jesus on the cross? How do you make sense of what happened? Paul writes extensively about it, saying that in our baptism we die and rise with Christ, and he acknowledges that the cross is “scandalous to the Judeans and foolishness to the Gentiles.” There is something powerful there that Paul is trying to convey by reappropriating the cross, pairing it always with resurrection.

Early Christian theologians continued to try to work out the “why” of Jesus’ death. Being a threat to the rule of empire and to Roman collaborators in Judea apparently was not reason enough for some. Tertullian, writing in the 3rd century espoused an idea that Jesus’ death happened in order for humanity to receive salvation by satisfying God’s need for an atoning sacrifice. (Dom Crossan once quipped that this is not the kind of god he’d like to meet in a dark alley.) And St. Anselm of Canterbury in the 11th century more clearly espoused the idea that “Christ’s death on the cross functioned as a gift to God on behalf of humanity to restore the order of justice subverted by sin.”[1] Where is the evidence that God would demand a sacrifice of his own son in order to restore relationship with humanity? What does this explanation do to describe a God who is merciful and loving?

All of these theories are trying to work out a reason for suffering, in this case the suffering of Jesus on the cross. Perhaps the “why” is that the Empire was morally bankrupt and thrived by military domination and extracting wealth from those who could least afford it.

But lots of revolutionaries have given their lives for a cause. Jesus was a different kind of radical, who in John’s gospel says, “No one has greater love than this than to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.”[2] The way of love can lead to suffering.
Why all of the theological muddle over the millennia to try and explain that Jesus loved his friends and followers so much that he was willing to give his own life for them?

His suffering is rooted in his willingness to engage in self-sacrifice, which itself is grounded in love.

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The truth is that all of us suffer. And we suffer in different ways at multiple points on our journey through life.

In 1960, Dr. King wrote, “My personal trials have also taught me the value of unmerited suffering. As my sufferings mounted I soon realized that there were two ways that I could respond to my situation: either to react with bitterness or seek to transform the suffering into a creative force. I decided to follow the latter course. Recognizing the necessity for suffering I have tried to make of it a virtue. If only to save myself from bitterness, I have attempted to see my personal ordeals as an opportunity to transform myself and heal the people involved in the tragic situation which now obtains. I have lived these last few years with the conviction that unearned suffering is redemptive.

“There are some who still find the cross a stumbling block, and others consider it foolishness, but I am more convinced than ever before that it is the power of God unto social and individual salvation.”[3]

While Dr. King’s self-sacrifice and his suffering were grounded in love and justice (and Cornel West reminds us that justice is what love looks like in public), I don’t think that all suffering is redemptive.

Physical suffering due to disease is not, in my view, redemptive. It is something that we can and should ameliorate. Karen Lebacqz, an ethicist and UCC minister writes, “The only redemptive suffering is that voluntarily undertaken in the cause of justice and the effort to combat disease. While the moral obligation to relieve suffering is not distinctively Christian, it is certainly central to Christian belief. Christians who, out of compassion, risk their lives by exposing themselves to contagion in an effort to heal others can be said to be modeling Christ’s compassion.”[4]

But what are we to say about everyday suffering that comes with simply living? I invite you to think of an occasion when you yourself have suffered. (As long as it is not so acute or recent that it is retraumatizing.) It might be grieving the loss of a spouse, a child, a parent. It might be rejection by a loved one. Perhaps a professional setback. Or when the physician delivers an unwelcome diagnosis. Maybe when someone has betrayed you. It might be an unrealized dream that haunts you. The ghost of loss can get into us and cause suffering. What is that time or occasion for you?

Many times when we suffer we feel alone in that anguish. Sometimes no one knows that you are suffering because you keep a stiff upper lip and keep on going. But inside, a piece of you feels as if you are dying. Each of us suffers in this way. Even when we feel alone, we are not. God is with us, we are not alone. Jesus tells us at such times to come with your heavy burdens and he will give you rest. Jesus himself underwent one of the worst forms of suffering imaginable, and in doing so, he had the full human experience of agony.

“Come bring your burdens to God, Come bring your burdens to God, Come bring your burdens to God, for Jesus will never say no.”

Not only is God there when you are suffering, so are your fellow Plymouth members. We form a family that supports one another, lifting up one another’s suffering and joy in prayer and in action. Paul writes in Galatians that we are to “bear one another’s burdens, and in this way, we will fulfill the law of Christ.”[5] What is the law of Christ? It’s love.

We can’t get around suffering, because it is a part of life. But we can show up for one another with love, and that helps our kindred to get through the suffering. Sometimes that means a warm embrace or a comforting pot of soup or listening compassionately or a note of encouragement. Just showing up is something any one of us can do for another. Even if we don’t think we have the right words, simply showing up can provide the solidarity and love that helps alleviate a bit of someone’s suffering.

I see people at Plymouth do this all the time! Our Congregational visitors drop in on some of our elders to say hello. Our Stephen Ministers have ongoing caring relationships with others in our congregation. And our Faith Community Nurses provide amazing, compassionate visits to those experiencing medical crises. I was with a family recently who have been going through a sequence of major medical issues — suffering — and they told me how helpful it was to have a faith community nurse guide them through the process and offer a prayer.

The English word compassion has two Latin roots: cum + passio, which means to suffer with. When we share someone’s burden, we do share a bit of their suffering with love and empathy. That isn’t to say we should be doormats or lose our footing by overidentifying with another’s suffering.

We may not be called to lay down our lives for those we love, but being present for another, acknowledging their anguish, letting them know they are loved and cared about can be a great help. Suffering is a real part of life. So is God’s presence. So is the love we share.

May it be so. Amen.
 
© 2024 Hal Chorpenning, all rights reserved. Please contact [email protected] for permission to reprint, which will typically be granted for non-profit uses.
 
[1] Brandon R. Peterson in Angelicum, Vol. 93, No. 4 (2016), pp. 875-894.
[2] John 15.13
[3] Martin Luther King, Jr., in Christian Century 77 (27 April 1960): 510.
[4] Karen Lebacqz in Suffering and Bioethics, ed. by Ronald Green and Nathan Palpant (New York: Oxford, 2014).
[5] Galatians 6.2

“Now Is the Time!”
Mark 1.9-15
The Rev. Hal Chorpenning, Plymouth Congregational UCC
Fort Collins, Colorado
18 February 2024
 
You’ve probably noticed that we have made a shift in worship, having Brooklyn introduce and read the scripture so that it is a bit more accessible to our younger worshipers… and some of our older worshipers as well! I really appreciate how she does this and how engaging she is. More often than not we have used the New Revised Standard Version for scripture readings, but Brooklyn has been using a newer translation, The Common English Bible, which is a bit more understandable for all ages, and was edited by our own David Petersen, a renowned Old Testament scholar.

I really appreciate some of the ways the Common English Bible translates the New Testament Greek, and in today’s reading, “metanoeo” is translated not as “repent,” but “change your hearts and lives.” That’s exactly what I was getting at in last Sunday’s sermon on transformation. It also translates the verb “pisteuo” not as believe, but as “trust in.” Here is what it sounds like in the NRSV: “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.” You hear two loaded words: repent and believe. And here is the CEB translation of the same verse: “Now is the time! Here comes God’s kingdom! Change your hearts and lives, and trust this good news!” Do you hear the difference?

So often clergy have asked us to believe – to give intellectual assent – to “six impossible things before breakfast” just like the Queen of Hearts speaking to Alice in Wonderland. But “pisteuo” in Greek has a stronger sense of “putting one’s trust in” rather than simply believing.

I think anything that can crack open scripture and help us internalize – like a new translation – is wonderful. Are you willing to open your heart and mind and put your trust in the good news of God’s realm? Please remember that question in the context of your Lenten journey.

If you’re reading Mark’s gospel along with us during Lent, one of the things you’ve probably noticed is that the author is succinct, VERY succinct. The way Mark describes Jesus’ 40-day trek in the wilderness takes exactly two sentences: “And the Spirit immediately drove him out into the wilderness. He was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by Satan; and he was with the wild beasts; and the angels waited on him.” Short and to the point. No extraneous details.

Matthew’s and Luke’s accounts are more extensive and include the dialogue with the tempter, Satan, who offers Jesus bodily sustenance, all the kingdoms of this world, and putting God to the test as part of the 40-day quest that is preparing Jesus for something. Mark doesn’t even allow Jesus to say, “One does not live by bread alone!”

Lent is a contemporary reflection of that story of Jesus undergoing a time of preparation. His time in the wilderness was an example of the mythic hero’s journey that Joseph Campbell described: departure, encounter and testing, and return. I wonder if it was something akin to an initiation ritual or vision quest for Jesus, because immediately thereafter he begins his public ministry.

What is Lent really about for us? Is it a time of fasting and penitence in the forty days that precede Easter? Or is it more of a re-enactment of the forty days Jesus spent in the wilderness? The answer will depend upon the person responding. There is no evidence that the apostles observed Lent, and the church didn’t do so for at least its first four centuries. The origins of Lent are sketchy at best. It certainly was not something Jesus or the disciples observed, unless you go for the “vision quest” explanation.

My own tendency is to see the story of Jesus’ forty days in the wilderness as the paradigm for our Lenten journey. For Jesus, this was a time of spiritual awakening. And for us, it can be a time of blossoming spiritual awareness.

We don’t get a very clear picture of Jesus’ forty days from the gospels. It isn’t as though we have six weeks of closed-circuit video to go through, examining his every movement and thought.

But imagine yourself for a moment on a vision quest. The Spirit leads you out into the wilderness: a place where there are no distractions: no internet, no email, no cell phone reception, no streaming, and no social media. Just you and the Holy Spirit…and temptation.

I wonder if we encounter a lot more temptation than most of us are willing to admit. (I’m not talking about chocolate or sex.) More often than not, our temptations involve making something that isn’t God the object of our worship, whether that is economic security or power and influence.

It may not be that we set up an altar to economic security, and it may not be that we build a golden calf to serve as an emblem of power and influence. We are not quite that obvious, and temptation is more subtle than that. One way to think about it is what you over-give influence and attention to. Do you allow fear to predominate your thinking? There is plenty of news to draw your attention in and cause you to be upset; does that dominate your thinking? I can tell you that it sometimes consumes more of my attention and emotional bandwidth than I’d like.

If we allow God to lead us, and if we put our trust in God, then the other stuff can take a back seat. Sounds simple enough. But, if it took Jesus forty days of internal struggle to work through the temptations of having bread (what we might call fear about our economic security) and authority (the things we refer to as power and influence, often in our careers), how long will it take you and me to work through these issues? A lifetime? Fortunately, God has given us more than forty days. But these forty days can be a good place to start.

Even though few of us are preparing ourselves for a ministry like Jesus’, Lent affords us the occasion and opportunity to do some spiritual deepening. Our Plymouth Reads Bible study and our Matisse-based devotional and Christian formation classes are mean to provide an opening for you to take a step further on your journey, to see what else might open up for you spiritually.

I grew up primarily in a Congregational church that didn’t observe Lent or Ash Wednesday…I think they considered it “too Catholic,” which meant that some of the baby got thrown out with the bathwater. For me, Lent is a season of invitation to explore “changing my heart and my life” and putting more trust in the good news of God’s realm, here and now and still unfolding. It’s a time when we all are invited to go a bit deeper through a spiritual exercise here at Plymouth. Part of the idea for me is doing something that helps us feel more connected to the Spirit. There are no guarantees that any of it will work, but we’re purposefully aligning ourselves more deeply with God., and that’s enough! Other people like to give something up for Lent, seeing what it’s like to strip away some of the baggage. I applaud that, too, if it enhances your awareness of the holy.

The other phrase that struck me in the Common English Bible translation is rather than Jesus saying, “The time is fulfilled,” he says, “NOW IS THE TIME!” If you have been waiting for an invitation to go deeper in your spiritual quest, consider it done! Pick up a copy of the Lenten devotional booklet or a Plymouth Reads bookmark at the back of the sanctuary and dig in. You are invited on our Lenten journey, and now is the time!

 May it be so. Amen.
 
© 2024 Hal Chorpenning, all rights reserved. Please contact hal at plymouthucc.org for permission to reprint, which will typically be granted for non-profit uses.