Help us to tell the truth about ourselves, that in
doing so, we might find ourselves to be grounded in your love, O God. Amen.
I realize that this might sound a bit strange, but I love the doctrine of Sin. That doesn’t mean that’s the only teaching of the Church that I find attractive and helpful; I’m also a big fan of Grace and salvation, but I also really appreciate the Christian understanding of Sin. A lot of people, especially in The Episcopal Church, have an aversion to the doctrine of Sin. They would say that it’s just so negative, oppressive, and condescending. But not me, I love the doctrine of Sin.
One
theologian has said that the doctrine of Sin is the only empirically verifiable
belief in the Christian faith. Meaning, one look at humanity, either as a
society or individuals, and we’ve got plenty of evidence that points to the
fact that something is wrong with us. And that’s all Sin means. Being a sinner
doesn’t mean that any of us are a wretched creature who is not worthy of
dignity, mercy, or respect. Sin is simply a way of describing the reality that
none of us are perfect and that perfection simply isn’t possible. But this
doesn’t mean that we need to give in to self-loathing. Because of our
physiology, no human is capable of flight in the way that a bird is. It just
means that, by our very nature, we are limited from flying. Well, Sin says the
same thing when it comes to living mistake-free lives.
Sin
is the way that the Church has traditionally talked about the fact that we are
all broken and imperfect. And when our rough and broken edges rub up against
one another, there is friction. Because of the limits of our bodies and minds,
the trauma of our past experiences, our fears about the future, we all make
mistakes. And it’s not just that we make mistakes, it’s that we can’t not make
mistakes. We act on faulty assumptions, we’re not always in touch with our
subconsciousness which leads to flawed thoughts and actions, we give ourselves
the benefit of the doubt while shaking our fingers at others saying “You should
have known better.” This is simply what it means to be a human. And the
shorthand way of saying all of this is that we are sinners.
And
I love the fact that I’m a sinner. Because being a sinner means that perfection
is not something that I should expect out of myself, nor is it something that I
should allow others to expect of me, nor is it a burden that I should put on my
spouse, children, coworkers, neighbors, or anyone else. The fact that you have
faults do not make you a failure. The reality that I’ve made mistakes does not
take away my dignity or belovedness. The truth that others let us down and are
not perfect does not make them evil. On the contrary, because we are all
sinners, we ought to treat one another with compassion, understanding, and
mercy, not judgment, disgust, or shock.
Speaking
personally, the doctrine of Sin has been an incredibly healing and liberating
thing for me. For one, it helps me to not carry around the burden and idol of
perfection. And it has also helped me to be more tender with others. When
people do things to annoy or wrong me, instead of jumping all over them, I tell
myself, “No need to be surprised or offended, a sinner sinned, what else were
you expecting?” Because, in truth, the doctrine of Sin is a doctrine of Grace.
The
person who helped me to see Sin as being full of Grace is the author and
theologian David Zahl who is the author of a book called Low Anthropology.
Anthropology is the fancy word for describing our theory of human nature. In
essence, what you think about humanity, in general, is your anthropology. And
there are two ends of the spectrum – a high anthropology and a low
anthropology.
A
high anthropology means that you think that humans are capable of perfection or
holiness, or at least getting pretty close. This view means that we can hold
one another to high standards and that when mistakes happen, they are because
of deliberate and avoidable mistakes that should be met with punitive
consequences. There are a lot of reasons why someone might have a high
anthropology – maybe they’re a perfectionist, or an optimist, or maybe they
believe in the idea of human progress, that each generation is slightly
improving and that, one day, we’ll achieve utopia. This is the idea put forth
in the Star Trek series – that one day humanity will be united, poverty
will be eliminated, wars will cease, and we will all live in harmony as we
explore the galaxy.
Contrasting
this is the perspective of low anthropology, which I’ve already laid out. It’s
what you find in novels like Animal Farm or Brave New World. A
low anthropology is, theologically and practically speaking, more realistic.
Those of us who subscribe to low anthropology don’t necessarily have low
standards, it’s just our expectations are more rooted in experience than
potential. Some will look at this perspective and call it fatalistic or
pessimistic, to which someone with a low anthropology will say “I’m not at all
surprised that some have an incomplete understanding of this.”
But
you don’t have to take my word for it. Consider the sociologist Brene Brown who
says that being truthful about our limits and our vulnerabilities is the
birthplace of love. Or how about the attorney and civil rights advocate Bryan
Stevenson who says “Our shared vulnerability and imperfection nurtures and
sustains our capacity for compassion. Our brokenness is the source of our
common humanity.” He goes on to say that what motivates him to do the
challenging and holy work that he does comes out of his sense of finitude.
Because he is honest about his brokenness, he is not scared to address the
brokenness he sees in society. Plus, let’s be honest, no one likes to be
treated like there’s something wrong with them when we make an error. Low
anthropology allows to greet sins as opportunities for reconciliation, for
growth, for restoration, as opposed to situations for feeling ashamed,
inadequate, or berated.
And
then there is Jesus, who says “Healthy people don’t need a physician, but sick
people do; I have come to call not the righteous but sinners.” And then, later,
Jesus adds, “Come to me, all you who are weary and are carrying heavy burdens,
and I will give you rest.” Jesus is our Good Shepherd, our Great Physician, who
comes to heal our sin-sick souls. But a high anthropology would reject the
medicine and the doctor and say “No thanks, I’m good.”
The
traditional Psalm of Ash Wednesday is the 51st, which says “Wash me
through and through from my wickedness and cleanse me from my sin. For I know
my transgressions and my sin is ever before me.” The Psalmist prays and trusts
that God can and will make in us clean hearts. And as Psalm 103 puts it, “As
far as the east is from the west, so far has God removed our sins from us.” In
the Litany for Ash Wednesday, we confess and name all sorts of things that we
have done but should not have done and things that we have not done but would
have if we were more fully walking the way of love.
The
ashes that we will bear on our foreheads this day are a further sign of this low
anthropology. Not only do the ashes show us our destination and signify that we
shall all return to the dust in our deaths, but the ashes also remind us of our
origins. The beginning of Scripture tells us that humanity was created from the
dust of the earth. We are earthlings, mud creatures made of dust and dirt. This
isn’t an insult, it’s an honest assessment of what we are. God created us from
the earth which was called “good” when it was made. And, indeed, we bear the
divine image and are God’s beloved children. But we were not created to be
perfect, to know all things, or to be able to do all things. We are dust, and
to dust we shall return.
But
as we return to that dust, we are reshaped and made whole, just as a potter
shapes a piece of clay. By the mercy and cross of Jesus, we are forgiven and set
aright on the way of love. This does not mean that we won’t continue to sin,
but, being forgiven, we recognize that our Sin for what it is – a part of what
it means to be human, not a sign that we are horrible or irredeemable people. Sin
gives us an occasion to practice the craft of love by confessing that we have
made a mistake, by seeking reconciliation with those we have harmed, and by
trusting that God’s mercy alone will make us whole. God’s grace is far more
definitive than any of our errors and sins. As the prayer for Ash Wednesday
tells us, it is by lamenting our sins that we are made ready to receive God’s
infinite goodness and mercy.
This
is why the practice of Confession is so healthy and life-giving. If you’ve
never gone to individual Confession, I cannot recommend it highly enough. When
we tweak our backs, we see a massage therapist or a chiropractor. If our tooth
hurts, we see a dentist. If we’ve broken a bone, we go to the hospital. In the
same way, when we are tired of carrying the burdens of our sins and want to
make a new start of thing, we go to a priest and tell the truth, receiving
assurance of God’s forgiveness.
Each Wednesday in Lent, I’ll
be in our Chapel from 4:30-5pm. No appointment needed, just come with a humble
and contrite heart. And if Wednesday afternoons don’t work for you, let me know
and we’ll find a time that does. Confession is a way of embracing the doctrine
of Sin and seeing in our brokenness the love that restores all things.
Put
most simply, Sin is a lack of love. For many reasons, we all fall short of love.
Sometimes we are tired, scared, wounded, jealous, selfish, or stressed, and sometimes,
try as we might, we’re not sure how to love. We are all finite and limited
creatures. Though God fills us with love, that love seeps out through the
cracks of our brokenness. That doesn’t mean we are useless pottery, it just
means that we need to be honest about our cracks and trust that God’s grace and
forgiveness are strong enough to repair what is broken. Because though we so often
are lacking in love, God is love and pours an abundant and unconditional love
into each of us day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute. Lent is a season in
which we name that brokenness so that we might also rejoice that, even in the midst
of our Sin, God is making all things well.
