In the name of the Risen ☩ Lord. Amen.
Easter is, of course, at the center of our faith. In his first letter to the Corinthians, St. Paul puts it clearly: “If Christ has not been raised, then our proclamation has been in vain and your faith has been in vain… If Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile and you are still in your sins… If for this life only we have hoped in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied.” It’s true, the Resurrection is what animates our faith, undergirds our hope, and inspires our witness.
In the early Church, it was said that Easter morning occurred on the eighth day, a clear reference to the Creation narrative in Genesis. The Resurrection, if it is seen as taking place on the eighth day, stands in continuity with all that has come before, but is also something utterly new. The Resurrection of Jesus was not a resetting back to how things were in the Garden of Eden, rather it was the dawning of the New Creation – a Creation in which we are reconciled to God.
The first Creation was obvious and measurable – whether you view it as the Big Bang, God speaking “let there be light,” or when life first appeared on our planet, there was a clear difference between before and after the start of Creation. The dawning of the New Creation in the Resurrection isn’t as obvious though. If you hadn’t heard of the Resurrection, there’s a decent chance you’d have missed the fact that there is a New Creation in which we live, move, and have our being. After the Resurrection, diseases continued to plague people, death still happened, wars were still fought, Rome still occupied Jerusalem, sin still infects our relationships. So, you might reasonably draw the conclusion that the Resurrection really didn’t change that much.
This question is not a modern one, but is at the very heart of the New Testament. Nearly all of Paul’s letters are working through the implications for the Resurrection of the Crucified Christ. And the Book of Acts, which we read from each week during the Easter season, is the story of the earliest followers of Jesus seeking to answer the question “what now?” That is the question of faith – what now? It’s the question that we all must contend with. Will you live in the New Creation, in the light of the Resurrection? Or will you pattern your life around another story, another way of interpreting the world? What is the truth that informs your life?
The question isn’t “what truth do you profess?” but “what truth shapes your life?” It’s a question not of the contents of our faith, but rather the consequences; not of what we believe, but rather how we believe it. The Psalm this morning poses a searing question to us, and one worthy of our consideration: “You mortals, how long will you dishonor my glory; how long will you worship dumb idols and run after false gods?”
When considering idolatry, it’s helpful not to think in terms of bowing down in front of bronze statues and offering worship to Zeus, Buddha, or Caesar. Idolatry, at its core, isn’t about what you worship as much as it is about what truth is at the center of your life. Anytime that we put something at the center of our lives other than God, it is idolatry. And ours is an idolatrous culture; each of us are in the grips of idolatry.
The most obvious source of idolatry is materialism. The self-storage business, which exists because we have more stuff than can actually fit into our homes, is a $38 billion dollar a year industry. The average US household has $137,000 of debt. I could continue to quote numbers, but I recently read a modern-day parable that describes our materialist idolatry well.
A wealthy businessman is returning to work after lunch and sees a fisherman getting up from the side of a river with a bucket of fish. He asks the fisherman, “Where are you going?” “To the market to sell these fish,” he replies. “How long did it take you to catch those fish?” “A few hours.” “And what will you do for the rest of the day?” The fisherman says “Oh, not much. Maybe I’ll go sit on the beach with my family, drink wine, and chat with passersby.” The businessman says “But if you kept fishing, you could catch enough to earn more money!” “And why would I do that?” “Well, you could buy better equipment to catch more fish. Within a few years, you’ll have enough for a boat and a large net. Why, eventually you might even own a fleet of boats!” “And then what?” wondered the fisherman. “Why, then you could sit on the beach with your family, drink wine, and chat with passersby.”
It’s a parable of idolatry, and it’s a parable that describes the way that most of us live our lives. One theologian has said that “possessions are a life sentence of involuntary servitude.” At the heart of our materialistic culture and desires is the notion that our life is not good enough. When we measure our worth in units of dollars and possessions, we ignore God because God does not have a currency conversion rate. But what would happen if we measured our net worth by how many friendships we have, by when was the last time we laughed, by what kind of stewards we are of our time, talent, and treasure, by how often we worship God? That might change things.
Martin Luther, 500 years ago, commented that security is the ultimate idol. There’s a billboard that was put up on I-40 in Burlington recently by the North Carolina Council of Churches. It shows a large collection of guns and the text says “You shall not make for yourself any idols.” As you might expect, it has stirred up a bit of controversy. One opponent of the billboard was quoted as saying “I don’t idolize guns, but if you’re going to walk in the valley of the shadow of death, I’m going to want my 9 millimeter with me.” Now, this isn’t a sermon about gun ownership; if it were, you’d know it. But this example is a perfect example of how idolatry seeps into our worldview.
This person is quoting the well-known 23rd Psalm, which, as you know, states “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil; for you are with me.” This person who offered an opinion on the billboard is essentially saying “I don’t trust God to be with me, so I’m going to take this into my own hands.” I’m not going to speak for any of you, but that is a particular version of idolatry of which I am often guilty.
How often do we offer a prayer and then go off and do something to make the situation worse before being patient and seeing how the grace of God will be manifest in that situation? How often do we save up for a rainy day while not giving an umbrella to those who are in the midst of a downpour? Despite the fact that Jesus very clearly has told us that he is always with us and that we have nothing to be afraid of, how often are we in a state of fear or anxiety? How often do we try to secure our own salvation instead of trusting that in Christ, we are already saved?
The thing about idolatry that is so dangerous is that it leads us away from the abundant life in the New Creation that God intends for us. St. John Chrysostom said that idolatry is futility, that idols are “something in name but nothing in substance.” Idols can never make good on the promises they make. Materialism promises happiness, but only leads to emptiness. Security promises that nothing bad will happen, but only introduces new ways for bad things to happen. Wealth, glory, power, reputation all assure us that life will be better if we have more of those things, but as we know, life only gets more complicated when we add things that give us less time for God.
In the reading from Acts, Peter is preaching about Jesus’ Crucifixion at the hands of both Temple and Roman authorities and he says to them “And now, friends, I know that you acted in ignorance.” This is the insidious nature of idolatry: it often happens in ignorance. At the core of the word “ignorance” is “ignore.” This is at the root of idolatry, ignoring the story of God in our lives. On occasion, we intentionally ignore God by doing something that we very much know that we should not be doing. Certainly, that’s a sin for which we ought to repent. But the more dangerous sort of ignoring is the ignorance variety, when we say, after the fact, “Oh, I didn’t even think about that.” I very much doubt that any of us choose to make a purchase through the lens of “Will this bring me closer to the truth of God, or separate me further from it?” And that’s how idolatry happens, other narratives work their way into our logic. So we make decisions based on what others will think of us, or what will give us the most pleasure, or what will be easiest, or if we can afford it. We’ve been trained to ask the question “Can I?,” when the question of faith is “Should I?”
As Peter continues in his sermon, he says “Repent therefore, and turn to God so that your sins may be wiped out.” You might be starting to get tired of me explaining what Biblical repentance means, but I’m going to continue hitting this point that is so central to our faith. Repenting does not mean saying you’re sorry or promising never to do it again. Repentance means to change your mind. In the frame of idolatry and ignorance, repenting means paying attention more to God. It means aligning ourselves with God’s truth. It means living in the New Creation.
CS Lewis wrote “Fallen humanity is not simply an imperfect creature who needs improvement: he is a rebel who needs to lay down his arms. Realising that you have been on the wrong track and getting ready to start life over again from the ground floor – that is the only way out of our ‘hole.’ This process of surrender – this movement full speed astern – is what Christians call repentance.” Certainly, what Lewis suggests is difficult, but it is the path of faith. We surrender all the false narratives that we’ve used to get by and align ourselves with God’s narrative.
God’s narrative is this – you are loved, you are enough, you belong to God, and you are a witness to this saving grace. There is nothing left to prove, to fear, to earn, to accumulate, to protect. By rising from the grave on Easter, Jesus opens for us this new way of being by showing us that God’s love has accomplished all that we need. In Easter, our truth is that we are not lacking, but have in abundance all that we need to thrive. It is by aligning ourselves to this truth that we avoid idolatry and encounter the depths of God’s grace. In short, it’s about trusting that Easter really happened.
What makes this difficult work is that fear, greed, and uncertainty all run better marketing campaigns than do peace or love. Whether it’s corporations, governments, politicians, interest groups, even the Church at times, what are too often before us are false narratives that are designed to take our time, our energy, our souls in exchange for false promises. We need to be reminded over and over and over again of the truth of God’s love for us. It’s why coming to Sunday worship each week is so important. For one, you gather with other resistance fighters to the ways of the world; and you need a community to support you in this holy work of living differently. In worship, we also hear the story of God’s truth read in Scripture. We partake of the sacred meal of the Eucharist which reminds us that God lifts up the lowly, that what unites us is stronger than that which seeks to divide us, that the least shall become the greatest. In the Eucharist, we are given the heavenly sustenance to stay true to God’s story in our lives.
St. Augustine once said that truth is what blesses us. May this Easter season be a time of reminding ourselves of God’s truth, and putting our whole trust in God’s grace and love instead of the idols which surround us and offer us empty promises. May God grant us the perseverance and courage to repent, to change our minds, about what truly matters. Through regular worship, may we always know that we are alive in the New Creation through the Resurrection of Jesus Christ. Amen.
