Sermon for All Saints-by-the-Sea, Proper 7, June 22, 2008
by The Rev. Dr. Jeffrey L. Bullock

“For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his. We know that our old self was crucified with him so that the body of sin might be destroyed, and we might no longer be enslaved to sin. For whoever has died is freed from sin. But if we have died with Christ, we believe that we will also live with him.”

Many years ago, the parish I served did an exchange every Thanksgiving with the local Presbyterian Church.  One year we worshipped with them, the next with us.  Lots of jokes were tossed around over the fact that when the Presbyterians prayed the Lord’s Prayer, they prayed, “Forgive us our debts.”  The Episcopalians allowed as how we ought to adopt Presbyterian language.  On the other side, the Presbyterians often went confused over our version of the Lord’s Prayer where we used the expression, “Forgive us our trespasses.”  I remember one year when a Presbyterian asked me, “Father, what does ‘trespass’ mean?”  Not to be undone, the next time we worshipped at the Episcopal Church, we used the far better translation in our prayer book, “Forgive us our sins.”  At the door, one of the Episcopalian wags said to me, “Father, I didn’t know we ever mentioned sin in polite company.”

Sin has disappeared from the landscape of the American language.  For that matter, sin appears to have disappeared from the whole Western culture.  To be just, I have to note this observation is not new.  As long as forty years ago, one the Menninger brothers, Karl, of the brothers who founded the famed clinic in Kansas, published a book entitled, “Whatever became of sin?”  In 1973, the book enjoyed a brief stay on the bestsellers list.  But I think it would be safe to say that with the exception of people like Gary Wills and William Buckley, talk about sin has practically disappeared from our thinking.

What replaced sin in our thinking?  Mistakes, oversights, failures of nerve, slips, blunders and miscalculations.  People don’t sin anymore in the common parlance, they make mistakes.  They misinterpret.  They get things wrong.  But they don’t sin.

Now I may say something at this moment that may surprise you--with our present way of thinking about ourselves, we truly can’t sin.  In order to sin,  (and this is not so hard to understand is it?), we need to have something over which to sin against.  Not too long ago, someone asked me with great earnestness if it were possible to be a Christian while living in isolation for more than a decade, miles and miles from everyone else.  The person asking the question had thought it possible.  The people on the other side, posing the problem, thought you could only be a Christian if a church building were available. (I found myself wondering if these were the same people who once answered a national survey question, “What’s your favorite church?” by writing in, “Brick.”)  The answer, as you may have already surmised, is yes.  We can be a Christian not because other people are required--though it’s a good deal easier to be a Christian in the company of other Christians--we can be a Christian because we have a deep and affirming relationship with God in Jesus Christ. 

And that’s just the rub isn’t it?  If we cannot recognize a power greater than ourselves or even for that matter, any other power outside ourselves to which we might be beholden, then we cannot sin.  We can only measure all our faults by our own standards.  And when we can only measure by our own measure, the worst we can do is make a mistake, an error in judgment, a blunder in commitment.  But we surely cannot sin. 

Nancy, has over the years, became a good friend of Stanley Hauerwas, the foremost theologian in America, at least according to Time magazine.  Stan tells a story that illustrates very well what I mean.  Once, while returning to South Bend where he was teaching at the time, he found himself alone a plane with just the flight attendant.  The kindly attendant asked Stan if he wanted anything and they struck up a conversation. Now let me be clear--as much as I admire Stanley Hauerwas, and I do as much as any person, he’s not attractive.  He doesn’t even sound attractive with his high-pitched, West Texas accent.  But suffice it to say, as soon as Stan starts talking he could, as his father was giving to saying, ‘talk a raccoon down out of a tree.”  In no time at all, the young woman was entranced with Stan and asked him if he would mind showing her the sights of South Bend that evening. Trust me, Stan reported, never in my life had someone so attractive asked me to show her around.  What was Stan to do?  And it’s at that moment he realized there was nothing, absolutely nothing standing between him and showing the young woman around except this:  he couldn’t explain it to his family and friends. 
Do you see what happened there?  Stanley Hauerwas has another power in his life, a power at least as important as his family and friends.  If he could not explain his actions to them, if he could not be accountable to them, then Stan had violated their trust.  Stanley had put himself and his needs before anyone else’s.  He had in fact sinned because he had made an idol of his own wants before anyone else’s needs.

That’s not the only problem with sin though, is it?  If we have no transcendent power to which we can look, then to whom can we look for help? For hope? For reconciliation?  For forgiveness?  You may have realized this already, but all three of this morning’s lessons are shot through with this theme of sin and relationship.  If we deny our relationship to God, we have sinfully broken trust.  And just as badly, we have broken our own hope.  Remember how the people of the exodus ran from Pharaoh?  God helped them to pass without danger through the waters of death to find life in a new promised land.  But what happened?  They complained bitterly about the comforts they had left behind.  Frightened by their new future, Israel lost heart and wanted to go back to the safety of what they knew, not matter how ugly and oppressed.  That’s just what Paul is writing of this morning in Romans--we have been baptized into death, that is, passed through the Red Sea, to be brought into a land of eternal hope.  Do you really want to go back?  Do you want to break off the hope, the salvation that’s been promised you?  If that’s so, then you have sinned against God, yourself and everyone you know and love. 

Here’s the strange but hopeful thing about sin; if we are Christians and sinners, we can be forgiven.  There’s a power outside of us, whether it be family or friends or God, who can reconcile with us, forgive us, and give us hope.  But if we are only measured by our own measure, can we save ourselves?  The jury is still out.  If I can speak for mine and those I love, I choose God, the hope and promise of a saving life.  Amen. 

The Rev. Jeffrey L Bullock
All Saints-by-the-Sea Church
Santa Barbara, CA   93108