Fundamentals
John Wilkinson Third
Presbyterian Church
January 21, 2007
Luke 4:14-21
As we will affirm again this morning, we live with the faith
that in life and in death we belong to God. We cling to that
faith as we learned of and now share the news of the tragic
and untimely death of the Reverend Pamela Harvey, whose ministry
many of us remember with gratitude as she served as assistant
and associate pastor here at Third Church in the 1980’s.
We have been in touch with Pamela’s family in California
and the churches she most recently served in the Long Island
and Hudson River presbyteries. A memorial prayer service will
be held here at the Third Church Chapel next Sunday, January
28 at 12:30 in the afternoon, to which all are invited. Let
us pray…
***
The word itself, fundamental, is not nearly as problematic
as we’ve made it. It derives from the same word that means
“foundation,” and so we get the sense that a fundamental
is something essential, necessary, basic. Fundamentals are,
well, fundamental.
Several days ago, we went to a basketball game at the University
of Rochester, and I could not help but remember the hours upon
hours I worked on basketball fundamentals in an earlier life:
blocking out to get a rebound, moving your feet rather than
reaching out with your hands on defense, squaring your shoulders
to the basket before shooting. In baseball, the most basic of
all fundamentals is keeping your eye on the ball, whether hitting
or fielding. I never played football, but there must be some
fundamentals at work there, too, although my beloved Ohio State
Buckeyes apparently forgot them out in Arizona several weeks
ago.
Every arena has them. In grammar, the basics of noun-verb agreement
and the parts of speech. In music, I remember needing to learn
the scales before learning the chords before learning a rudimentary
version of “Für Elise” before learning to play
Scott Joplin. In law, in architecture, in medicine, in truck
driving, in cooking, in life itself, first things do come first.
For most of our history, we American Presbyterians have had
a rather informal and fluid relationship with fundamental matters
of belief. That may seem odd, but it is true. Of course, we
have issued creedal statements for several centuries, with doctrinal
declarations about God, Jesus, the Bible, the sacraments, salvation,
and so forth. Those exercises have been and remain important.
I often am asked what we Presbyterians believe, and I am grateful
for resources to which to turn to begin that conversation. But
we’ve had a funny relationship with doctrine at the same
time.
As early as nearly 300 years ago, we refused to engage in something
called “subscriptionism,” in which a minister being
considered for ordination would need to subscribe to a certain
set of belief statements. In earlier eras, our ordination vows
included adherence to the notion that the Westminster Confession
contained the full expression of biblical faith, but not allegiance
to the Westminster Confession itself. For the past several decades,
our vows, taken by many of you in this room as you’ve
been ordained and installed as a Deacon or Elder, have included
the notion that the confessions of the church contain the essential
tenets of the Reformed faith. But we never state with precision
what those tenets are.
I like that. I like the notion that a doctrinal conversation
is just that, a dialogue with the tradition, rather than adherence
to a litmus test. For sure, any Presbyterian officer needs to
affirm that the Bible has authority, or something about the
lordship of Jesus Christ, but what that affirmation looks like
unfolds in context and in conversation.
In fact, the first use of the word “fundamental”
in anything like the way we might think of it now came about
only 100 years ago or so, in a much different context. When
the wheels seemed to be spinning off of everything religious,
mainline Protestants, including some Presbyterians, decided
that the church and the culture needed some assistance, some
help, in articulating what we believed and what we didn’t.
At that point, what became known as the “five fundamentals”
were intended to welcome people in, rather than bracketing them
out, teaching guides rather than debating points.
The five fundamentals articulated then were:
* belief in the deity of Jesus Christ;
* the Virgin birth;
* blood atonement (Christ died to save us);
* bodily resurrection and;
* the inerrancy of scriptures.
For several years we Presbyterians did affirm these officially,
but then we came to our senses and remembered that while doctrinal
faithfulness is a good thing, litmus test subscriptionism is
not.
In fact, Reformed Christianity, of which we are a part, has
been making lists for generations. The most famous one came
out of the early Reformation era as an attempt to understand
– rather than dictate – beliefs about grace and
predestination that were perplexing our forbears. Perhaps you
have heard of T.U.L.I.P., an acronym coming out of Dutch Calvinism,
of course.
T.U.L.I.P., as a means to help understand God’s grace:
* total depravity (we are “unsavable” on our own);
* unconditional election (we can’t save ourselves, but
once you’re “in,” you’re “in”);
limited atonement (all are not “in”);
* irresistible grace;
* and the perseverance of the saints.
Knowing the meaning of T.U.L.I.P. may not win you any money
on Jeopardy, but it is a reminder of how useful theology can
be when used in the right way, and how mischievous it can be
when it is not.
Theology matters, to be sure, but if fundamentals lead to fundamentalism,
then we have a problem. Theology should edify, rather than condemn,
nurture, rather than divide, invite a conversation, rather than
close one off.
How much better off would the church be right now if we could
have a full and honest theological conversation that sets aside
for the moment the matter of who’s in and who’s
out, and rather be nurtured by the richness and faithfulness
of our tradition?
How much better off would we be if newspaper stories about
us – what ones there are – would be about theology,
about matters of faith, ethical responses to difficult moral
issues, rather than our endless dispute?
And as important as that point is, there may be an even more
important one to consider this morning, about theology itself.
“You shall love the Lord your God with your heart and
soul and mind and strength.” We learned that as children.
At its heart, faith is not a set of propositions, as much as
the propositions matter. Faith is action, faith is love, faith
is embodied in a person, God incarnate, and not a book.
We remember that, therefore, as we encounter one of the most
decisive gospel moments.
We are 30 years past the events we are just recovering from
celebrating. John the Baptist has developed an active and radical
ministry. Jesus has been baptized, identified as God’s
son. He is, according to Luke, led to the wilderness and tempted
by the devil, which suggests to us that Lent is almost here.
And then his ministry begins. It begins in his home synagogue
– a sermon for another time but a reminder for every preacher
of that sometimes-interesting moment when you return to your
home church to preach.
Here Jesus is, Mary and Joseph’s son. The congregation
is hanging on his first public words. He is invited to read
a scripture passage, and is presented the scroll containing
the words of the prophet Isaiah, from Isaiah 61 and 58. You
can look it up. He reads and sits down, and then utters words
that sent the congregation on end and signaled what his ministry
would be like. Public. Provocative. Active.
When given the opportunity to make his opening statement, to
share with the community, the world, and future history, Jesus
said that his ministry would be about good news to the poor,
release, recovery, an end to oppression.
When given the opportunity to declare his fundamentals, the
core of his ministry and therefore the heart of the gospel,
Jesus uttered a transformative vision of justice and mercy and
righteousness that trumps any doctrinal formulation, and defines
his community so much less so on belief and so much more so
on faithfulness in action.
Alan Culpepper writes that “The importance of the reading
of Isaiah…can scarcely be exaggerated…It proclaimed
the fulfillment of Scripture and the hopes of Israel through
Jesus’ ministry as the Son of God. It stated the social
concern that guided Jesus’ work and allowed the reader
to understand all that Jesus did as fulfillment of his anointing
by the Spirit.” (New Interpreter’s Bible, Volume
IX, page 106)
It all comes together: scripture, the Spirit, an unwavering
commitment to the poor, the outcast, the sick, the blind. This
is what will give his ministry meaning, and it is what will
get him killed.
Whatever expectations people had for this Messiah, whatever
expectations we have for this Messiah, here are his expectations.
Whatever our expectations are about matters of war and peace,
poverty and wealth, inclusion and exclusion, Jesus – borrowing
and appropriating from the core of the Hebrew prophetic tradition
– proclaims his expectations for all to hear, a benchmark
for faithfulness, for doctrine, for living, for transformation.
From the context of South Africa, Bishop Desmond Tutu writes
that “(God) is the transcendent one who fills us with
awe…but He does not allow those who worship Him to remain
in an exclusive spiritual ghetto. Our encounter with (God) launches
us into the world to work together with this God for the establishment
of His kingdom. This is a kingdom of justice, peace, righteousness,
compassion, caring and sharing. We become agents of transfiguration,
transformation and radical change.” (“Spirituality:
Christian and African”)
The great 20th century theologian Karl Bath – who would
have had much to say about T.U.L.I.P. and the five fundamentals
and matters of doctrine and the nature of doctrine itself –
said it differently one time, but no less prophetically. Christians
should approach life, he said, with the Bible in one hand and
the newspaper in the other.
Or the prophet Micah, who addressed the fundamental question
what does the Lord require of you? To do justice, he responded,
and love mercy, and walk humbly with God.
That is what scripture teaches us. That is where the Spirit
leads us. That is what Jesus commands us.
“Preach the gospel at all times,” St. Francis said.
“Use words if necessary.”
Amen.
