The Work of the Artist Ends With the Artwork

-or- On Whether the Artist Is to be Entrusted with the Interpretation of Her Own Work

In a word...no.

Recently, I led a devotion around an image found in Evangelical Lutheran Worship, the hymnal of the ELCA.  I interpreted several layers of meaning, showing that a picture is indeed worth a thousand words...perhaps more.  A member of the council remarked: "All of that is in this picture?"  I answered affirmatively.  Then, he asked (and this one I paraphrase), "Did the artist intend all of that or did you make it up?"  I responded that I was using Christian theology to help interpret the complex image.  I also mentioned that one should never trust an artist to interpret his or her own work.  I did not explain this last comment at the time, and so I feel compelled to treat the matter now.  Thus, here is the defense of my right to have an understanding and a relationship with the artwork outside of any relationship to the artist.

First of all, it will be helpful to discuss what an artwork is, in and of itself.  Any thinker in the field of fine art will tell you that art defies definition.  I do not propose a definition of art here.  Rather, I wish to present one of the qualities of the phenomenon of art.  In other words, I wish to assert one of the rights (or if you prefer, privileges) bestowed upon a work once it is considered art.

An artwork has peculiarity.  In the process of doing art, the artist takes something that is within him or her and objectifies that something--whether it is an idea or a perspective or a feeling or any other internal thought or mood.  Once objectified, however, the artwork becomes its own peculiar phenomenon.  Though still an inanimate object, it is an object that is no longer subject to the artist alone.  I, as the audience, can approach the artwork singularly, as an object in the world, and respond to it myself--just as I would respond to a sunset or some beautiful vista.  Put simply, once the artwork is an object, the artist must needs let it go.

A theological perspective may be helpful here:  In the act of art, human beings come closest to doing what God does, namely create.  Whatever the art-form, when we form art, we are participating in creation, we become co-creators, since we have added something new and peculiar to the creation God has made.  An artwork, then, becomes a creature (in the most literal sense of the word--I am not saying that the artwork takes on any sort of animate life, merely that it becomes "something created").  And, as with any other creature, I can approach and relate to that creature without mediation from another.

Furthermore the interpretation of art is a subjective task.  Taste in art is subjective.  I can listen to a piece of music or look at a painting, and I will have a reaction to it--and an interpretation of it--even if I know nothing about the author or composer.  Now, I will admit that there are some objective aesthetic reactions to art.  That is, there are some things that will be beautiful to the majority of humans--symmetry, the golden ratio, etc.  Some things are just ugly.  But each person's reaction to these objective traits will be different--and wholly subjective.  Some, although they admit that a work of art is ugly, will absolutely love said work of art.  Meanwhile, for others the ugliness will be a turn off.

The objectified artwork is also separated from the subject of the work.  And once objectified in this way, the audience is able to approach it subjectively.  For instance, I have a rather large coffee table book about the painter Rafael.  In it are many of his portraits and sketches of individuals.  I do not need to know who the individual is in order to decide whether or not I like the work of art--and I will display it based on my subjective opinion.  Now, I will concede that knowing some of the history behind the artwork, even knowing some of the artist's intentions in the artwork can help me to appreciate the work more (or less), however, these perspectives are not necessary.  In fact, they are sometimes unhelpful.

I find that an artist can always be depended upon to interpret their own work too narrowly.  So selfishly do they hold on to their work after it is completed, that they want to control how others approach the work.  In this way, they limit the possibilities of interpretation, and they prevent the work of art from becoming a peculiar object.  Instead, the artist wants the work to remain as a personal, subjective thing subsumed under their own subjective personality alone.  One would think that the highest goal of the artist would be to create something that could stand on its own before the onlooking public.

Besides, it is said in interpersonal relationships, that no matter what the intended communication, whatever the listener hears is what is communicated.  If I poke fun at someone, even if it is light-hearted, if they are offended, then I offended them.  If after an argument with a friend or significant other, I decide to give them space so that we both might cool down, if they interpret that silence as anger or simmering grudge, then I have communicated that I am still angry--not that I was trying to respect their feelings!  In the same way, whatever the artist intends, is not always what is communicated.  Nor should the artist so debilitatingly limit the effect their work might have.  Letting the artist, or anyone else, tell you what a work of art must mean only takes away your freedom--your right to encounter objects in the world as your own self.  Don't let them!  You can do more and better than they can!

I must say a word here about art critics.  Each word flowing from a critic of art must be seasoned with a grain of salt.  Critics can be helpful, but only as far as artists are helpful in the interpretation of art--and no farther.  Critics are third party mediators between the artwork and the audience.  In fact, they are even more removed.  As I have argued, the artist is a third party entity that tries to wedge his or her way between me and the artwork.  A critic, then, is a fourth party.  Why do we have critics?  Any time you have a pursuit that stands to make money (particularly large amounts) the industry needs mediators.  Critics are like beauty pageant judges.  They have the authority to choose the official winner, the one who is officially the most beautiful inwardly and outwardly.  However, we do not need the beauty pageant judge to tell us whether or not our spouse is beautiful inwardly and outwardly--and OUR first choice in these categories.

A critic may tell me that there are better works of art than Rafael's School of Athens, but that is my favorite painting nonetheless.  Critics are merely the industry's experts.  Critics are trained and practiced in looking at the history of art, discerning the various styles and techniques, and judging a work based on these categories.  Because of this training and practice, critics can be helpful, but the artwork loses nothing by discounting these commentators.

When one sits before a work of art, then, each person becomes their own critic (with varying degrees of discernment and technical knowledge).  And this is quite all right.

In freedom, I judge a work of art using my own measures.  When I encounter a work of art, I am required to make some meaning out of it--that is my task as the audience.   In this way every person is an artist!  For there is a certain art to interpretation.  An artist sits down to look at a nature scene, and paints an interpretation of that scene.  So, too, a common person who appreciates art sits down on a bench in an art museum and paints a mental picture interpreting what he or she sees.  I do not need an artist telling me how to take meaning out of their artwork, I must do that myself.  Besides, they already tried to tell me--through the artwork itself.  Ought the artwork not stand on its own?

Therefore, it is not just my freedom at stake, but the freedom of the peculiar object--the work of art.  An artwork is dead when no new interpretations are met in it because the artist and the critics have interpreted it to death.  An artwork yet lives when it can freely communicate, that is, be freely approached and interpreted by the people who encounter it.

Artists, take a sabbath day, and let your work of art work for itself.  We don't need help appreciating your labors of love.

The Joy of It: That God Waits for Us

Where there is faith, there is always expectancy.

In expectancy, one has the joy of waiting.

At Augustana College, I had a Philosophy professor who often said: 'The worst thing, the most offensive thing you can do to a person is to make them wait.'  Thus, being late to work, class, an appointment, etc. is, he believes, a crime against humanity (I think he phrased it that way, too).

And so it seems, because when you make another person wait, are you not sending the message that they are unimportant...that they are not worth your time, or that your time is much more valuable than theirs?  Are you not making it clear that you are too busy?  And isn't it true that it is always the one with power and authority that requires the powerless (relatively speaking) to wait?  We wait at the doctors office; the doctor is the one with the authority.  Waiters and waitresses wait on patrons; the ones with the power are the ones being served.  And some look upon a waiter's job just that way--as somehow a lesser career.

Yet, God commands us to wait.  (Psalm 27:13-14)

Our response is often: "Why, O God?!?" (Psalm 22:1) and "How long?!?" (Psalm 13:1-2)  Even when it is God for whom we wait, it is as though it were with great suffering.  And we are offended, even when it is God that makes us wait.  In faith we expect salvation, which is abundant life (here, now!) and eternal life.  Yet, life sometimes brings us adversity.

Faith is a journey--not a process, but a progress.  We travel along the Way (Jesus Christ).  But as we walk the paths our Savior has trod, we begin to meet hardship.  [Soren Kierkegaard once made the distinction: the road is not hard, but hardship is the road.  In other words, following Christ is not tricky, but it is choosing hardship instead of comfort, choosing to take up our cross and follow (Mark 8:34-37).  It is easy to follow someone, but following someone into hardship!]  When we meet hardship--suffering--sometimes it becomes too much for us, and so our journey slows.  Now and again, we must stop walking altogether, on account of the pain.  And as we stand at the side of the road we call to God for help and we wait.  Sometimes it feels like God is a long time coming.

And the one who endures hardship in this way takes offense at God, thinking either that God has given a curse instead of a blessing, or thinking that God is altogether too slow to bring goodness and mercy.
And so, we think to ourselves, what a horrible thing God does, to make us wait.

Oh, but how backwards our point of view!

Now, it is easy for us to think that we wait for God to come.  After all, it is the weak that are forced to wait...and it is the powerful that make them wait.  And in our piety, we say, 'None is more powerful than God!'  And so we plead for God to make our waiting end, for salvation to come.

But such piety is backward!  Such piety throws God way off in the distance, it creates a picture in the mind of a God who is alien and remote.  Such piety forgets that God has come near--that even now God is near to you--in your very midst.  In our impatience for salvation, we forget Jesus Christ.

If it is we who are traveling--following Jesus Christ along the road, the Way--then we are not waiting.  Oh, even if our progress is slow, we are moving!  Even if we stop for fear of traveling at night, we will still awake again the next day to continue our travels.  You see, even if we are impatient on our journey, we are still progressing.  We are not just waiting, we are building toward.

Meanwhile, it is God who waits for us to arrive.

Our Father waits for our return.  Just as in the story of the prodigal son, the father waited for his wayward son to return in worry and in hope (Luke 15:11-32), God stands along and at the end of the road of faith that we journey.  God waits for us to return to him.

When one looks at it this way, one sees the same theme throughout all of scriptures.  The prophets spoke, and God waited for the people to understand.  God sent his Son as a more direct communication, and waited for people to realize who was in their midst.  God poured out forgiveness on the cross, and waits for people to realize that guilt is already conquered.  God raised Jesus from the tomb, and God waits for all of us to see the powerlessness of death.  It is God who is waiting for us.  But we, seemingly, love to make God wait.

But God waits with the most perfect and blessed patience.
The Joy of It: God waits for us.

Real Men Love Jesus

-or- How Jesus Reveals the Father and Good Fatherhood

Sunday was Father's day.  Many of my ordained colleagues chafe under Father's Day and other, what they call, "Hallmark Holidays."  They believe that these sentimental, secular, cultural holidays don't really have a place in the church--Mother's Day, Father's Day, Valentine's Day, etc.  And yet, if the church is to remain relevant, we need to meet the culture where it is, and speak to what the culture holds as important.

Therefore, on Sunday, I preached on the "hallmarks" of Fatherhood.  And to prevent myself from becoming too sentimental, I based my reflection on the 1st Lesson (2 Samuel 11:26--12:10; 12:13-15), in which the prophet Nathan confronts King David for the sin of killing Uriah in order to take his wife, Bathsheba.  When you read it, you will realize that it is a dreadful Father's Day text.  However, we must "get real" when treating these sentimental holidays, if we are to understand them in a Christian way.  So, I preached on David's sins, and how he learned from God (via Nathan) the qualities necessary for being a father (and a disciples, as the case may be): integrity, humbleness and mercy.  Read the text, and you can figure out how David learned each of these.  For this post, I would like to treat something related, but slightly different.  And I would like to focus on the Gospel Lesson we shared on Father's Day:

Luke 7:26--8:3 (please pause now and read it, if you like)

In the Gospel, we share the story of the woman with the alabaster jar who washes Jesus' feet with her tears, dries them with her hair and anoints his feet with oil.  Again, not a text that most people would think of as a good Father's Day text.  A woman serving a man by kneeling at his feet and washing them seems to perpetuate traditional cultural gender roles instead of commenting on fatherhood.  However, if we look a little more closely we see that, in this story, Jesus does display those qualities I mentioned above: integrity, humbleness and mercy.

First some theological foundation.  Jesus is the epitome of human life and being.  Not only is God revealed in the person of Jesus Christ, but in him also we find THE exemplary model of human selfhood.  So looking at Jesus anywhere in the scriptures is going to help us understand what it means to be human and a human in relationship.  Moreover, Jesus said in the Gospel According to John: "The Father and I are one."  And so if we can learn anything about fatherhood from our heavenly Father, then we also see the same demonstrated by Jesus Christ.

So, in the story of the woman with the alabaster jar, how can we learn about integrity, humbleness and mercy.

1. INTEGRITY: Jesus showed a great deal of integrity by showing kindness and love to the woman, who was a sinner.  Often we see Jesus socializing with sinners, but not always at such an intimate semi-public event.  He welcomed the sinful woman, despite what the host and the other dinner guests might think.  He maintained his values no matter what other's thought of him.  This is the core of integrity--to stick to ethical rules and stand up for what one believes in the face of differing attitudes or pressure to make exceptions.  Besides, if Jesus was going to eat with Pharisees, which are hardly models of faithfulness in the Gospels, he must also welcome the woman with the alabaster jar.  And he did.

2. HUMBLENESS: Ostensibly, Jesus shows no humbleness as he sits back, getting his feet washed.  In fact, he seems to act like he deserves the foot-washing treatment.  Who does he think he is?  This part of the story seems to perpetuate sexist gender roles.  Should the woman in the relationship be a servant or slave to the man?  (A resounding no.)

But when you look deeper into what is going on, that the woman is washing his feet in an act of love and gratitude for having been forgiven, for having been saved.  Jesus tells simon in verse 47 "...her sins, which were many, have been forgiven; hence [this is why] she has shown great love...."  One must be humble in order to accept such a work of love, and, indeed, one is humbled by such works of love.  And I am not simply talking about the humiliation of having the woman wash his feet in the middle of a dinner party.  Accepting any gift takes humbleness and grace.  Moreover, Jesus, who was without sin, could very well have remained haughty and dismissed the woman as unworthy to be with him.  Instead, in humbleness, he welcomed the sinner as though she deserved to be there--because she did.

3. MERCY: Jesus shows the woman mercy more than once.  First of all, as I said, she was forgiven before she came into the room, as she wanted to wash his feet precisely because she was thankful for already having been forgiven.  Jesus recognizes and believes that God's mercy was active in the woman's life, and believed that that was why she was compelled to interrupt the dinner party.  Second, Jesus forgives her presently, after she completes the foot washing.  Third, Jesus sends her out with words of peace, promising that she will be shown mercy even into the future.  Mercy in the past, present and future.  This means that Jesus knew she was a sinner and knew that she would probably sin again, and still he knew that showing mercy (and promising it) was what he wanted to do.  Because God shows mercy eternally and continuously and repetitiously in the same way.

And so, these hallmarks of a good father (and a good disciple) are embodied and perfected in Jesus Christ.  Precisely because Jesus Christ was sent by the Father to emulate and reveal the way the Father operates.  When we look to Jesus, we see a glimpse of our Father in heaven.  And when we imitate Jesus, we become more like our Father.  It is hard work.  But it is the work of becoming truly human, of becoming a true man.  And that's why real men love Jesus.

The Joy of It: To Wait

[From the draft archive, dear Reader.  Part I of the Joy of Waiting]

“Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for,

the conviction of things not seen.” 

(Hebrews 11:1)

“I wait for the LORD, my soul waits, and in his word I hope;

my soul waits for the Lord more than those who watch for the morning....” 

(Psalm 130:5-6)

“I believe that I shall see the goodness of the LORD

in the land of the living.

Wait for the LORD;

be strong, and let your heart take courage;

wait for the LORD! 

(Psalm 27:13-14)

Where there is faith, there is always expectancy.

Expectancy itself implies and requires one thing of the expectant one, namely to wait.

What is the Christian waiting for?  The disciple has many and great expectations.  The first, most obvious answer might be: she is waiting for God to come into the world.  However, this has already happened, and happens continually.  Faith believes that Jesus is present even now, and so the general answer of waiting for Jesus is meaningless to the person of faith.  

Thus, we need a more specific question.  So, we will not continue on the path of asking "What are we waiting for?" because there are so many right and salutary answers.  Indeed, this question must be asked of each individual.  God comes to you and asks: "What are YOU waiting for?"  If you wait for nothing, then your answer must be: "I am waiting for faith to come through the Holy Spirit."  For there is always expectancy with faith.  Without expectation, there is no faith.

But let us treat a more profitable question: how is one to wait?

Waiting can be empty.
The one who expects nothing, absolutely nothing--the one who has no goals, who has such a low opinion of others as to look for nothing from them, who banks on nothing, who has nothing to look forward to--this one still waits...but the waiting is empty.  For what does this one wait?  Perhaps simply for time to pass.  But even that waiting launches most of us to expect something--anything--to happen.  Perhaps the one waits, but has no idea for what.  Waiting in expectancy without content is empty.

Waiting can also be full.  This statement launches us into several distinctions, since one whose waiting is full is not always satisfied.  Satisfaction, that is faith, depends on both the substance of the thing and the conviction towards which one approaches the object of expectancy.  Allow me to explain:

As to the substance:

+ To expect the good is hope.  

+ However to expect evil is faithlessness or despair.  

As to the nature of the conviction:

If one expects evil, one can relate to such an object of expectation either positively or negatively.  
+ To happily expect the evil is demonic.  
+ To unhappily expect the evil is pure fear.  

If one expects good, the same distinctions also apply:

+ To happily (or positively) expect the good is hope.  Hope is full of patience and is purely, precisely pregnant waiting.  Ah, this is joy.  
+ Yet, to unhappily expect the good, then one joylessly suffers impatience and exasperation.  Restively expecting the good is not exactly empty waiting, as one is still waiting for something, namely the good.  The waiting is full, but full of anxiety.    

Why would all of this matter? 

Friends it matters so that we might reflect on our own waiting, that is, its nature.  Do we fear or hope?  Are we demonic in our waiting, or do we stand in the full light of the Morning Star?  Asking these very questions of our waiting is the only way to alter the nature of our waiting.  In order to strive for hope, which is the task of faith, we must first assess from whence we begin the journey.  We must reflect on how we wait, so that we might take the chance to--if necessary--turn, repent.  If I follow the path of despair, fear, or faithlessness, if I walk the path demons have trod, then I must repent, that is, turn back and seek a different Way.  And so we must be cognizant that there are different kinds of waiting, cognizant of how we wait.

For example, I hate waiting.  I am not good at it in the least.  I usually expect the good (though certainly not always), but I often unhappily expect the good.  I am often impatient, often anxious about timing.  I don't like waiting in lines, neither in the supermarket nor at red lights.  And sometimes I am short with people.  It is not how I want to be.  However, I must recognize this trait in myself if I am ever going to correct myself, or allow the Holy Spirit guide me along straighter paths.  At times it is just to be impatient, at times impatience is not a sin--but I would rather not make a habit of it.

But through all of this, there is no joy in the waiting, but only after the waiting is over.  Once the waiting is done, and that which was expected is accomplished, then there is certainly joy.  But our little discourse promised that it was a joy to wait, and not just to be allowed to cease waiting.

Therefore, we must go on and ask: What joy is there in waiting?
The most blessed joy.
That is, the most blessed joy if your expectancy is predicated (founded on, resting within) on God.
With God, the object of expectancy does not matter, but only that it is God from whom one expects something.
With God, how one waits (ultimately) does not matter, but only that one waits.
Even the one who waits for healing but fears the worst, even that one is loved by God and is given a measure more of grace.
Even the one who demonically anticipates evil, even that one is loved by God and is given an extra measure of grace.
If you are waiting--no matter how, no matter for what--God will come.
Waiting opens a path between the present and the future...a path that God's eternity wishes to immediately travel upon and come directly to you.
Waiting prepares a highway for our God--in our minds and hearts...in our lives.
What blessed joy that waiting is always the imminent potential of basking in the presence of God!
Wait for it...
...Thanks be to God for that.  Amen.

The Frightening Power of God's Love

[I wrote this during the long hiatus, in January 2013.  I don't know why I didn't post it then.  In any event, straight from the draft archives, here it is, dear reader.]

On the Day of Epiphany, 2013

"Fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom." (Proverbs 9:10; Psalm 111:10)
"God is love."  (1 John 4:8)

These are perhaps the two most misunderstood truths found in the Scriptures.  And they are all the more puzzling because they are statements that belong together.  The Day of Epiphany is about coming to a realization about these statements.  Just as the Day of Pentecost and the time afterwards is about coming to live according to these statements, being able to say: "Fear of myself is the beginning of wisdom." and "I am love."

But let us stick with Epiphany, so that we might be prepared for Lent and Easter (which need to come before Pentecost, for the effect to take hold in us, anyway).

We hear of the Three Wise Men, following a star so that they might find Jesus, the Christ, and pay him homage--worship him.  These wise men were not kings, but Magi.  What is a Magus (the singular of magi), you ask?  Well, we get the word magician from the word magi.  So, these "three" men were magicians.  They used magic to find their way through life, they used hocus pocus to advise rulers and common people.  They were astrologers.  They were augurs.  They searched the stars for supernatural wisdom.  They used magical spells and techniques to control the events of and the people in their lives.  They were sorcerers...warlocks.  Even the gifts they brought to Jesus were the demonic tools of their trade, materials that they believed had magical properties, materials that were used to cast spells and peer into the future.  The star they followed was a symbol in their pagan belief system.  And through that star, God called them to be near to Jesus Christ.

It is hard for us to understand how offensive it was for these wise men to stand before the Messiah.  Sorcery was against the Law.  The three wise men were pagans--gentiles--who were unclean.  And without being purified, without converting to the true belief in the one God, while they were yet sinners, they came and stood before Immanuel, God-on-Earth.  They entered the Holy of Holies--even in their demonic state of being.  And they came because God called them.  They came because God invited and welcomed them.  They were called because God even loved them.

This Gospel passage for Epiphany is paired with Paul's words to the Ephesians (3:1-12).  Paul tries to explain to the Church that in Christ Jesus, the gentiles have been made heirs with Israel.  How, because of Jesus, those who were far off have been called near.  And that is the mystery of the Good News about Jesus: God's overwhelming love for the whole world.

It is a love that we do not share.  It is a love that we refuse to have in our hearts.  And by "we" I mean Christians, a body of which I am a part.

Oh, we do love--our family (sometimes), our friends (most of the time), our spouses (with some effort), etc.  Many Christians even get to the point of loving those who are in need.  Many give to the poor, feed the hungry, heal the sick, visit the prisoners---all out of love.  Some Christians even make it to loving the stranger.  Some Christians will help a person even if they don't know whether that person is worthy of that help or not.  We, at times, give money to the street beggar, never knowing and never giving a thought to what the person will use the money for---out of love.  But only a few Christians progress enough in their own soul to love even the enemy.

Let me give you a clear example.  A great majority of Christians in our culture and country see Muslims as enemies.  For the sake of argument, let me allow what is not true, let me say what is summarily false: Muslims are our enemy because they are terrorists who are taught to bring terror in the world.  And let me say something that is truth: Muslims are seen as enemies because they do not believe that Jesus Christ is God--they are not baptized, they do not receive Communion, and they do not hear the Word rightly preached.  Something else that is true: Muslims have killed our Christian relatives in wars that Americans have waged in Islamic lands.

The task of the Christian faith is to love these same Muslims.
Yes, the ones that do not believe and who are not baptized.  Yes, the ones that are terrorists.  Yes, the ones that have killed our relatives.

Why?  Because God loves them.  (And if you need another reason, then our task is much larger and harder than I anticipated.)

Remember, God invited the Magi who were demonic and unclean (God's own enemies) to be near his Son.  He welcomed them, he insisted they come, dragging them across the known world.  God didn't convert them in order to bring them, he brought them because he was excited to show them what he was doing--whether it converted them or not.

Who are we that we are not required to do the same?  To love in the same way?

We are called to participate in God's love in such a way that we love even our enemies.  What's more, we are to love them while they are enemies.

Returning to our example: If you love a Muslim person only once they have converted to Christianity, then you are not loving an enemy but a friend--you love your Christian family, not the gentiles.  If you love someone after they had repented of killing you child, then you love an enemy that has become something besides an enemy--perhaps a friend, perhaps not quite that far.  But to love while they are Muslim, while they are killing your loved one...that is loving your enemy.

Jesus loved us before we were Christian.  Jesus loved us while we were killing him.  And yet how we groan under the burden of being like him in this respect, the burden of following---of imitating---him.

It is only when we love the enemy that we truly begin to understand the Gospel.
It is only when we love the enemy that we truly begin to love Jesus.
It is only when we love the enemy that we truly begin to love those we love.
It is only by learning to love the enemy that we truly begin to learn how to love our own selves.

God loves his creatures.
Jews, Gentiles and Pagans alike.
God loves even the atheist.
God loved the three wise warlocks.
God loved even King Herod.

Such is the strength and power of God's love.
Does that frighten you?
It does me.
And so it should.
That is the beginning of wisdom: God is love.

For, until we are frightened by the power of God's love, we will never truly begin to understand what love is.  Therefore, we shall never understand who God is.  Our epiphany about Jesus will never come, and we will never truly appreciate that God loves even us, while we are yet sinners.

What is the gospel?  God's love is awesome.  Amen.

[Next up, from the draft archive: a two part blog entitled, "The Joy of It: To Wait" and "The Joy of It: That God Waits for Us."  Wait for it...]

Got Eternity?

-or- What the World Needs Now...

"What the age needs in the deepest sense can be said fully and completely with one single word: it needs...eternity."  -Soren Kierkegaard

The temporal and the eternal are absolutely different.  Eternity is not simply slices of time (say, days for instance) that are added in succession forever.  Rather, eternity is atemporal--totally without time.  Temporality can be sliced up and measured.  Eternity cannot be measured in the same way.

In the person of Jesus Christ, eternity breaks into the world.  God, whose existence is in eternity first and foremost--who IS eternity--takes on temporality.  Of a sudden, in an absolute paradox, the chasm between eternity and temporality is bridged--time and timelessness are unified.

As we follow Jesus Christ, as we become disciples--true human beings, the purpose is to combine within our own lives time and eternity.  Our goal is to allow the Eternal Spirit become one with our temporal self.  In this way, we become truly human, washed in the image of God.

This is what Soren Kierkegaard, existentialist theologian and philosopher, argued.  But how much sense does it really make?  What does it mean, practically, for us to be--in our being--both temporal and eternal beings?  What does it look like?

Let us go to the Bible for an example.  On Sunday, June 16th, 2013, we will share the story of the woman who washes Jesus' feet with her tears and dries them with her hair.  This story comes from the Gospel according to Luke 7:36--8:3 (please pause and read it now).

The woman, a sinner, displays all the signs of having become a pure and absolute mixture of both time and eternity, of both the profane and the sacred, the mundane and divine.  Notice, it is not the disciples who exist in this way (at least not in this story), nor the Pharisees, or any of the other religious or "good" people present.  It is this woman, "a woman from the city, who was a sinner" who lays hold of the perfect being and selfhood attainable only through faith.

First of all, we must note that such a phenomenon can only occur in the presence of Jesus Christ.  For this reason we say in worship: "May Jesus Christ be with you always.  And also with you."  For this reason, we receive the sacraments, especially Holy Communion, as often as possible.  For this reason, Jesus sent the Holy Spirit to be his presence with us after he ascended to be with the Father.

Second, we must note the moment when eternity touches the temporal within the woman.  Eternity can only present itself momentarily--that is, in the moment.  Time always marches on, and eternity must become present anew in each moment, lest it become time or lest it overwhelms time and destroys it.

The most stunning moment of faith occurs in the moment the woman washes Jesus feet.  What produces this work of love?  Lutheran theology argues that the woman did not come to wash her Savior's feet in order to earn forgiveness.  Rather, it is gratitude to God for God's grace that produces in us works of love.  Therefore, the woman came to wash Jesus' feet precisely because she was forgiven.

The moment, then, (that is, the moment when eternity touches temporality) is when our inner self and our outer deeds come perfectly into line.  The woman willed but one thing: to give thanks to her Savior.  And in that moment when she knelt down at his feet, her will and her actions were perfectly harmonious.  Gratitude coincided perfectly with the work of love.  The woman did not think of other considerations: what the others would think; that her hair would get dirty; that Jesus' feet stank; that washing Jesus feet was the action of a slave.  The woman didn't even stop to think how Jesus would react, but instead, in perfect faith, her will and desire was to combine her inner gratitude to its external expression.  Not for payment--for salvation--but simply because.

Ah, but here we have ascertained the role of time, but not of eternity!  For an action is only temporary, it has a beginning and an end.  And even our human will and desire, in all its fickleness, is purely temporal.  Wherein, then, lies the eternal?  In the eternal will and action of God that meets the will and action of the woman in such a way that you cannot distinguish the two.  We can discern it, though, by looking at forgiveness in time.

As I said, when Lutherans read this story, they must say that the woman came to wash Jesus' feet because of gratitude to her Savior.  Gratitude for what?  The woman, who was a sinner, must have been thankful for Jesus' grace.  This means that already, before she entered the room, she believed that God had forgiven her (past tense).  The woman acted by grace through faith.

Then, after she dried his feet with her hair, Jesus said, "Therefore, I tell you, her sins, which were many, are being forgiven [this is actually present tense--the NRSV fudges the translation slightly]" and again he says to her directly, "Your sins are forgiven" (present tense).

Lastly, Jesus tells her to "Go in peace."  In other words, when the woman leaves, she must and will be able to continue to trust in God's grace.  Going from there, she has the faith that her subsequent sins will be forgiven (future tense).

Here we have hit on eternity!  The one moment in time, in which the woman washes Jesus feet, is but one instance of the forgiveness that comes from eternity and comes eternally.  It is the one moment when the woman's knowledge of forgiveness and her response are commensurate.  God and the woman are one--on the same page--in that moment.  But that moment is soon over and divided by time.  However, and here is the blessed joy that is ours, God repeats his act of grace in the next moment, and the next, ad infinitum.  Eternity, again and again, breaks into time.  To us, in time, this appears as simple repetition, however, for God it is one continuous, eternal movement.  In other words, when God acts he always and eternally acts to save.  For this reason, God's repetition of salvation unites these different temporary occurrences, making them one eternal action:
          Saving Noah and his family from the Flood
          Leading his people through the Red Sea
          Jesus' baptism in the River Jordan
          Our baptism into Christ Jesus
          Providing the river of the Water of Life flowing in the city (from Revelation)
Over the course of history, water turns from a bringer of death to the Water of life.  And in each event, life is attained or reclaimed by going through the chaotic waters and being raised up to new life.  Each of these are singular events in the march of salvation history, and yet each action is, in and of itself, wholly and completely salvific.  In other words, God's one repeated action unites these various temporal events in eternity.  When recollected, each event inspires gratitude which propels us, by faith, to Jesus Christ, for the divine action to be repeated again.  In this way, time and eternity meet in unity in the moment.

Let me break down why all of this matters.
I pray that, by the power of the Holy Spirit, you will--this moment--remember God's love and grace given to you.  And in that recollection, eternity will touch you in time and transform you, so that your will and action will become absolutely one.  Let each moment in your life become so focussed that you do not lose sight of Christ Jesus, but always turn your face toward eternity, transcending time within the moment.  In each moment, let the Spirit make you grateful...and let the Spirit help you act out of love.

For such is what happens when eternity breaks into temporality.  We call it faith...we call it freedom...we call it love.  Amen.