John 8:31-36
Jesus said to some of the Jews who had believed in him, “If you continue in my word, you are truly my disciples, and you will know the truth and the truth will make you free.” They said to him, “We are descendant of Abraham, and have never been slaves to anyone. What do you mean by saying, ‘You will be made free.’?”
He answered them, “Very truly I tell you, anyone who commits sin is a slave to sin. The slave does not have a permanent place in the household, but the son has a place there forever. So, if the son makes you free, you will be free indeed.”
Did you hear the breaking news this week about King Charles praying with Pope Leo in the Sistine Chapel on Thursday? It was breaking news because a Pope hadn’t shared space in worship with an English monarch since Henry VIII broke up with Rome in 1534 because, among other things, the Pope at the time refused to annul Henry’s first marriage to Catherine of Aragon.
Anyway, on Thursday, King Charles, who’s considered the supreme governor of the Church of England, sat near the altar in the Vatican as Pope Leo led worship that included two English royal choirs sharing space and song with the Sistine Chapel Choir. It was apparently, quite an occasion.
The fact that this was “breaking news” at all – in light of everything else going on in the world these days – was as fantastic as it was frustrating for me to hear in the week leading up to Reformation Sunday, which I never heard mentioned, by the way.
For one thing, it’s a good reminder that Martin Luther never meant for his beef with the Roman Catholic Church to split or divide or start new denominations of Christianity. Luther’s hope was to merely, but profoundly, change – to REFORM – the church he loved by expanding the way it practiced, proclaimed, and promised God’s grace to believers. It’s good to know that 508 years later, some the Pope and the King seem to be getting on board. Fantastic.
But it’s frustrating, too, because, if I weren’t a believer – let alone a Lutheran-flavored believer – I’d wonder what the heck was up with those Christians?
They believe in this Jesus who gave his life for the sake of the world, but it’s breaking-freaking news when two of his followers share space in worship? They preach a Gospel of grace, but they disagree about who’s allowed to receive it at the communion table? They say we’re all God’s children, but they have different sets of rules about which men or women are allowed to preach that Good News – or not? They say and sing “they will know we are Christians by our love” but they police that love when marriage isn’t “traditional?”
All of this is to say, things haven’t changed much – and certainly not enough – since that day Jesus reminded some of the Jews who believed in him about what it meant to be slaves to sin. The willful ignorance or spiritual amnesia evident in their response to him is shocking – “We’re descendants of Abraham and have never been slaves to anyone…”
Their Jewish identity as descendants of Abraham … and Isaac … and Jacob … and MOSES, too, was wrapped up in, and very much defined, by their historical slavery in Egypt, under Pharaoh. Sure maybe THEY, THEMSELVES, generations later, had never been slaves in the same way. But for them to forget about or to deny that piece of their history and – even more – to deny the freedom that was also theirs because of God’s deliverance, was part of Jesus’ point.
If it was that easy for them to forget or to deny the historical status of their ancestors as enslaved people, how easy was it for them to forget or to deny their own spiritual enslavement to the sin Jesus came to redeem? And, are we the same … or better … or any different?
On days like today – and very often as progressively Lutheran-flavored people on the planet – we like to see ourselves as being on the right side of history, as ones who “get it,” as the faithful ones who do grace with no strings attached, in ways others don’t. And I think that’s true a lot of the time, when we get it right.
But when we get too comfortable in that skin… when we blow our own proverbial horn too proudly… when we forget to look in the mirror and to the cross every now and then… we risk forgetting – like our ancestors in this morning’s Gospel – that, just like everybody else, we are slaves to sin, and need to be set free by the same mercy, grace, and love we know in Jesus.
This is Martin Luther’s understanding of grace that the Reformation set loose in the world … that we are all sinners, all beggars, all broken, all in need of forgiveness and redemption … in order to experience the fullness of life on this side of heaven and the next. But too many haven’t heard this good news. Too many deny the fullness of it for all people. And too many refuse to accept it for themselves and to share it quite so fully with others.
President Trump seems to be wrestling with a spiritual, existential crisis of sorts these days. More than once, recently, I’ve seen him imply that he’s not sure he’s getting into heaven. I’ve heard him ask reporters if they thought he was getting into heaven. I’m aware of what a lot of people might say, or desire, or even pray for in that regard. But I think Jesus would say, simply, “If the Son makes you free, you will be free, indeed.” Free from the sins you think will keep you from heaven. Free from the Sin that keeps you bound by fear and concern, right where you live. And free from the sins so many believe to be insurmountable and unforgiveable.
I had a couple of conversations this week about whether someone who dies by suicide is worthy of God’s heaven. Someone I care a great deal about was curious and concerned about a friend. Another person I know is sure that suicide is an unforgiveable sin. I’m certain Jesus would say, “If the Son makes you free, you will be free indeed.” Free – on this side of heaven – not to be bound or afraid or ashamed or enslaved – outside of clinical depression, of course – by whatever might tempt a person to such a fate. And free – on the other side of eternity, too – if all else fails – free to be redeemed, saved, and showered with a love you couldn’t find or feel on this side of it all.
And I’m convinced, if we could embrace and buy the good news of this kind of grace – in all of its fullness for all of God’s people – our concerns and conversations could change the world.
I mean, if we could see in all people the common ground we share where our sinfulness is concerned – EVERYONE WHO COMMITS SIN IS A SLAVE TO SIN, remember – then we would live and move and breathe and support policy and promote laws and do justice and share the Gospel and do God’s bidding – with more of a WE and US mission, than a THEY and THEM mentality.
And if we could see in all people the common ground we share where our promised redemption is concerned – IF THE SON SETS YOU FREE, YOU WILL BE FREE INDEED (yes, you and him and her and them, too) – than we might live with such astonishment and so much gratitude at the abundance of this gift, that we would live more generosity, more humility, more selflessness, more of the same kind of grace that has first been given to us. And wouldn’t that be a change, a transformation, a reformation the world could use right about now?
As part of the festivities at the Vatican last week, King Charles was gifted a special chair – for him to use during his visit and that will be reserved for use only by British monarchs in the future. It’s decorated with the king’s coat of arms and a phrase in Latin which means, “That they may be one,” which is a lovely gesture of hospitality, welcome, and Christian unity.
May we all imagine – not just popes and kings – but ourselves and each other – our neighbors and the strangers who surround us – sinners, all – sharing such a seat of welcome, hospitality, mercy, and forgiveness.
And may that change us for the better, change us for the sake of the world, and transform us into the saints God calls each of us to be in response to the savior we know in Jesus – the Son who has a permanent place in the household, who sets the table for the sake of the world, and who saves us all a seat, by way of his amazing grace.
Amen
