A Sermon by Fr. Wood

In Creed or Chaos, Dorothy Sayers writes about the interplay between drama and dogma, between historical events that happened in a particular time and place, and doctrines the Church developed to explain the events.

Official Christianity, of late years [Sayers wrote in 1949], has been having what is known as ‘a bad press.’ We are constantly assured that the churches are empty because preachers insist too much upon doctrine – ‘dull dogma,’ as people call it. The fact is the precise opposite. It is the neglect of dogma that makes for dullness. The Christian faith is the most exciting drama that ever staggered the imagination of man – and the dogma is the drama.”1

Drama and dogma; narrative and proposition; story and statement. The church is constantly about the business of using our sacred stories to answer questions like

It’s this last question we come to in today’s readings from Luke (drama) and Galatians (dogma).

First, Luke’s story. Simon was a Pharisee, and if anyone appeared to be righteous before God, it was a Pharisee. No group was more meticulous at keeping God’s laws. Simon had heard rumors about a healer and prophet named Jesus, so he invited Jesus to dinner, but after Jesus showed up, a woman came in. Luke doesn’t tell us her name because the whole city knew who she was, a notorious sinner. She slipped in and stood behind Jesus as he reclined at the table, and her tears fell on Jesus’ feet. She brazenly took down her long hair and wiped and kissed and then perfumed Jesus’ feet. Simon thinks to himself that if Jesus was a real prophet, he would know the woman’s character and send her away. But Jesus asks Simon whether a debtor who was forgiven a debt of fifty pence would love his lender more than a debtor forgiven of ten times that amount. Of course, Simon says it’s the one who’d been forgiven most would love the most, and Jesus turns and asks: “Do you see this woman? You didn’t give me water, a kiss or perfume; she gave all three. Her many sins have been forgiven, for she loved much; but he who has been forgiven little loves little.”

In the drama, why were the woman’s sins forgiven? To use a big theological word, what “justified” her, what made her “righteous in the sight of God.”2 That’s really the question Paul takes up in Galatians 2. He called the answer the “truth of the gospel,” which for Paul was justification by faith. It became a Reformation principle to emphasize justification sola fide, “by faith alone,” as opposed to justification by keeping all the religious rules. Paul writes very plainly: “[A] man is not justified by observing the law, but by faith in Jesus Christ,” (Gal. 2.15 (NIV)), what Martin Luther called “passive righteousness.”

One of the first things I did as a young Christian in college was to try not to sin, like giving something up for Lent. Whether I realized it or not at the time, I had the idea that a Christian was, by definition, someone who lived by the rules of the Bible. The only problem was that I was so bad at it. I seldom went an hour, much less a day, without committing some kind of sin and then heaping guilt upon myself for it. A while back I heard someone read this prayer, and it’s something I could accurately have prayed as a new Christian:

After a long time trying unsuccessfully not to sin, I came across the doctrine of passive righteousness and thought it was exactly what I needed. And for a while it was. But over time I didn’t so much come to think that if I sinned it meant I wasn’t a Christian, but the things that I did just didn’t matter that much at all. The evil things I did weren’t horrors to me, and the good that I did wasn’t glorious, because the only thing that counted was what Jesus did. I had no real godly sorrow, and I had no real joy.

Here’s what I think happened: I got hung up on dogma about justification by faith and forgot the drama of faith in this unnamed woman’s life. I cultivated good theology about justification, but I missed Jesus’ question: Do you see this woman? She held the answer to my dilemma about how nothing I ever did could justify me before God, but the way I lived really mattered to God. She knew she was a sinner, knew she’d never be as righteous under the law as a Pharisee; but that self-knowledge drove her to Jesus, and the forgiveness she found there exploded into a love that didn’t try to appease God but worshipped him. She proved her faith by what she did that day for Jesus. She loved much precisely because she knew she had already been forgiven much.

Do I still believe in justification by faith alone? Yes, absolutely I do, but it’s more complex than a two-word Latin phrase can account for. Real faith always shows up in action. Listen to what Martin Luther, a justification by faith guy if there ever was one, says about faith:

It is my great honor to serve as your curate for the next two years. In the time we’ve been here already, I was profoundly affected by the worship and the preaching in this place, but that’s not what kept us here. What held us is the chance to be part of a community that’s asking how a Christian should live in the city. Having been forgiven so much, how then do we forgive, love and serve those around us? My family and I need you to remind us of the whole truth of the gospel day after day after day, to ask us: Do you see this woman? See how she knew herself; see how she reveled in grace; see how she loved Jesus. Her pleasure and her duty, though opposite before, once she had seen his beauty, were joined to part no more.

1. Sayers, 3.

2. Alister E. McGrath, Christian Theology: An Introduction, 2d ed. (Oxford: Blackwell, 1997): 437.

3. Martin Luther, Preface to the Letter of St. Paul to the Romans, Christian Classics Ethereal Library (http://www.ccel.org/l/luther/romans/pref_romans.html) (last visited 15 June 2007).

4. John Newton, “Shall Men Pretend to Pleasure,” Christian Classics Ethereal Library, http://www.ccel.org/ccel/newton/olneyhymns.h3_3.html (last visited 15 June 2007).

A Sermon by Fr. Wood, 17 June 2007.		Return to previous
Pentecost III 2 Sam. 11.26-12.10, 13-15 Gal. 2.11-21 Luke 7.36-50 + In the Name of God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen. In Creed or Chaos, Dorothy Sayers writes about the interplay between drama and dogma, between historical events that happened in a particular time and place, and doctrines the Church developed to explain the events. Official Christianity, of late years [Sayers wrote in 1949], has been having what is known as ‘a bad press.’ We are constantly assured that the churches are empty because preachers insist too much upon doctrine – ‘dull dogma,’ as people call it. The fact is the precise opposite. It is the neglect of dogma that makes for dullness. The Christian faith is the most exciting drama that ever staggered the imagination of man – and the dogma is the drama.”1 Drama and dogma; narrative and proposition; story and statement. The church is constantly about the business of using our sacred stories to answer questions like “If God is good, how can there be so much suffering in the world?” “Would Jesus drive a hybrid?” “How can sinful humanity ever be in relationship with a holy God?” It’s this last question we come to in today’s readings from Luke (drama) and Galatians (dogma). First, Luke’s story. Simon was a Pharisee, and if anyone appeared to be righteous before God, it was a Pharisee. No group was more meticulous at keeping God’s laws. Simon had heard rumors about a healer and prophet named Jesus, so he invited Jesus to dinner, but after Jesus showed up, a woman came in. Luke doesn’t tell us her name because the whole city knew who she was, a notorious sinner. She slipped in and stood behind Jesus as he reclined at the table, and her tears fell on Jesus’ feet. She brazenly took down her long hair and wiped and kissed and then perfumed Jesus’ feet. Simon thinks to himself that if Jesus was a real prophet, he would know the woman’s character and send her away. But Jesus asks Simon whether a debtor who was forgiven a debt of fifty pence would love his lender more than a debtor forgiven of ten times that amount. Of course, Simon says it’s the one who’d been forgiven most would love the most, and Jesus turns and asks: “Do you see this woman? You didn’t give me water, a kiss or perfume; she gave all three. Her many sins have been forgiven, for she loved much; but he who has been forgiven little loves little.” In the drama, why were the woman’s sins forgiven? To use a big theological word, what “justified” her, what made her “righteous in the sight of God.”2 That’s really the question Paul takes up in Galatians 2. He called the answer the “truth of the gospel,” which for Paul was justification by faith. It became a Reformation principle to emphasize justification sola fide, “by faith alone,” as opposed to justification by keeping all the religious rules. Paul writes very plainly: “[A] man is not justified by observing the law, but by faith in Jesus Christ,” (Gal. 2.15 (NIV)), what Martin Luther called “passive righteousness.” One of the first things I did as a young Christian in college was to try not to sin, like giving something up for Lent. Whether I realized it or not at the time, I had the idea that a Christian was, by definition, someone who lived by the rules of the Bible. The only problem was that I was so bad at it. I seldom went an hour, much less a day, without committing some kind of sin and then heaping guilt upon myself for it. A while back I heard someone read this prayer, and it’s something I could accurately have prayed as a new Christian: Dear God, So far today, I've done all right. I haven't gossiped, and I haven't lost my temper. I hadn't been grumpy, nasty or selfish. But in a few minutes, God, I'm going to get out of bed, and that is when I'm going to need a lot of help. Amen. After a long time trying unsuccessfully not to sin, I came across the doctrine of passive righteousness and thought it was exactly what I needed. And for a while it was. But over time I didn’t so much come to think that if I sinned it meant I wasn’t a Christian, but the things that I did just didn’t matter that much at all. The evil things I did weren’t horrors to me, and the good that I did wasn’t glorious, because the only thing that counted was what Jesus did. I had no real godly sorrow, and I had no real joy. Here’s what I think happened: I got hung up on dogma about justification by faith and forgot the drama of faith in this unnamed woman’s life. I cultivated good theology about justification, but I missed Jesus’ question: Do you see this woman? She held the answer to my dilemma about how nothing I ever did could justify me before God, but the way I lived really mattered to God. She knew she was a sinner, knew she’d never be as righteous under the law as a Pharisee; but that self-knowledge drove her to Jesus, and the forgiveness she found there exploded into a love that didn’t try to appease God but worshipped him. She proved her faith by what she did that day for Jesus. She loved much precisely because she knew she had already been forgiven much. Do I still believe in justification by faith alone? Yes, absolutely I do, but it’s more complex than a two-word Latin phrase can account for. Real faith always shows up in action. Listen to what Martin Luther, a justification by faith guy if there ever was one, says about faith: Faith is a living, daring confidence in God’s grace . . . . It makes men glad and bold and happy in dealing with God and all His creatures . . . . Hence a man is ready and glad, without compulsion, to do good to everyone, to serve everyone, to suffer everything, in love and praise to God, who has shown him this grace; and thus it is impossible to separate works from faith, quite as impossible as to separate heat and light from fire.”3 Hymn-writer John Newton put it another way: Our pleasure and our duty, Though opposite before; Since we have seen his beauty, Are joined to part no more: It is our highest pleasure, No less than duty’s call; To love him beyond measure, And serve him with our all.4 Loving God may have been religious duty for the Pharisee, but it was the woman’s greatest pleasure because the dogma of forgiveness and righteousness by faith was the backdrop of the drama of her life. It is my great honor to serve as your curate for the next two years. In the time we’ve been here already, I was profoundly affected by the worship and the preaching in this place, but that’s not what kept us here. What held us is the chance to be part of a community that’s asking how a Christian should live in the city. Having been forgiven so much, how then do we forgive, love and serve those around us? My family and I need you to remind us of the whole truth of the gospel day after day after day, to ask us: Do you see this woman? See how she knew herself; see how she reveled in grace; see how she loved Jesus. Her pleasure and her duty, though opposite before, once she had seen his beauty, were joined to part no more. + In the Name of God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen. 1. Sayers, 3. 2. Alister E. McGrath, Christian Theology: An Introduction, 2d ed. (Oxford: Blackwell, 1997): 437. 3. Martin Luther, Preface to the Letter of St. Paul to the Romans, Christian Classics Ethereal Library (http://www.ccel.org/l/luther/romans/pref_romans.html) (last visited 15 June 2007). 4. John Newton, “Shall Men Pretend to Pleasure,” Christian Classics Ethereal Library, http://www.ccel.org/ccel/newton/olneyhymns.h3_3.html (last visited 15 June 2007).
Return to previous	© 2007 Sam Woodt

Pentecost III