Sermon text: Matthew 14:22-33
It was one of those epic match-ups from history. Two rivals, bitterly opposed, facing off against one another. Japan vs. the United States in WWII. It was Ali vs. Foreman in boxing. Douglas vs. Lincoln in their great debates. Hunt vs. Lauda in Formula One racing. Only instead of all those various genres, it was theology, the setting was the early 5th century. However, to historians and religious scholars, the combatants were just as legendary as all those other examples.
In one corner, you had Pelagius. An Irish ascetic (we might have called him a monk if any monastic orders existed at this early date), Pelagius taught that man was free with regards to sin. In all things, one can chose either sin or obedience to God, and in the end, one could earn their salvation through the deliberate choice to do good.
In the other corner was Augustine, bishop of Hippo, a city in North Africa. Augustine was a scoundrel and reprobate in his early years, but had converted to Christianity and had become widely revered as a scholar of the church. He argued that all of creation is tainted by sin, that we are born into it, and cannot escape it, therefore it is only by divine intervention in the form of God’s grace that we can achieve any goodness at all. Salvation is given freely, without merit or cost, by the sacrifice of Jesus Christ on the cross.
This was a battle for the heart of Christianity. Which was it? Was salvation given or earned? The great scholars of the church, including the pope at that time, gathered and debated at council. A decision was made. Pelagius was wrong. Augustine was right. No human being could be good enough to earn salvation; no one was that righteous, that obedient. If we could, there would be no need for Christ, no need for Jesus to come to earth at all.
Pelagius was condemned as a heretic and he was exiled. He died in anonymity, largely forgotten except for the condemnations we still have of him in church doctrine today. Augustine is still regarded today as one of the foundational theologians of the Church. Among his disciples, removed by a few hundred years, was a German monk named Martin Luther.
That would seem to be the end of it, right? A great battle, a great debate, but one with a clear winner and a clear loser. But Pelagius’ teachings carry with them a certain appeal. They’re simple. Basic. Easy to understand. If I’m just good enough, God will like me. God will save me. If I just do enough...
Pelagius has never quite gone away, not really. His teachings pop up in every generation. The whole reason for Luther’s reformation was that the Church of his day had largely forgotten (intentionally, as it turned out) Augustine in order to separate the great masses of Christian disciples from their money. The indulgence practice was not far removed from Pelagius. If I just pay enough, God will save me.
And it’s still with us today. I remember during my teenage years and my flirtation with evangelicalism. How often was I told the more souls you win for Christ the more gems you’ll have in your crown in heaven? How often did I hear echos of long-dead Pelagius? Each time I and others were told about how hard we had to work to earn God’s favor. It’s still around. We Americans in particular like his take on things. After all, we’re the people of pull-yourself- up-by-your-bootstraps and “there’s no such thing as a free lunch.” Everything else in life worth having must be earned, why not salvation?
For those of us so inclined to heed Pelagius’ voice, we might do well to see the lesson in today’s Gospel. On the surface, this would seem a somewhat amusing miracle story. Jesus walks on water out to the disciples and when Peter sees him coming, he asks to join him. But after a few steps, he becomes frightened and down into the drink he goes. LOL. Typical Peter. Ain’t that funny?
Keep something in mind however. For a time, Peter actually does it. He does the impossible. He walks on water, just like Jesus. But it doesn’t last and down he goes. I think there’s a metaphor here in this strange little story. You see the Gospels aren’t just history or biography. They’re rhetoric. They’re literature, and the authors intend us (the readers) to see ourselves in the disciples, Peter perhaps most of all.
And that’s what I see here. Peter is us, trying his best. He truly does mean well. He is a good man with a good heart, and no more foolish than any of us would be in his circumstances. And for a moment, he does something amazing. Just like us, in brief moments, scattered throughout our lives, we can do the miraculous. We can achieve the greatest of good. Wonders of righteousness.
But it never lasts. We get distracted. We grow fearful. We decide our vices are a lot more fun. And the moment that happens, we are again like Peter and we sink beneath the waves.
Pelagius was wrong. Yes, we can do great and wondrous things. We can be righteous, but only in the briefest of moments and that’s the problem. It’s not enough. We can’t make it across the water to Jesus, just like Peter couldn’t. We’re never good enough. Never righteous enough. Never sinless enough. Even at our best, it’s simply not enough.
But there is hope, because Augustine was right. Where we fail, Christ succeeds. That was why he came, to do what we could not do. He could be sinless. He could be righteous all the time. And when we sink into the depths of sin, it is Jesus who fishes us out. He reaches down with nail-scarred hands and takes hold of us. And he does not let go.
Jesus was never going to let Peter drown. Yes, Peter failed...again, but he is friend and follower of Jesus and Jesus is going to do whatever he can to save him. And so it is with us. Jesus came to earth for us, for you and for me. He went to the cross for us. He rose again from the tomb for us. Because there wasn’t going to be any other way that it would work. Certainly not anything we could do. We’d go five steps and be sucking water before you could blink. But the moment that happens, Jesus is there. He grabs hold and pulls us from death to life. Amen.
No comments:
Post a Comment