2017-10-02
Brooke Strong
Scripture: Philippians 2:1-13
Reformation: Solo Christo
This morning, we’ll have a sermon in three acts. Three short acts, to be sure. But three distinct yet inter-related parts, all centered on the Reformation phrase, “Only Christ.”
The first part may seem like something of an academic point, but it’s one that needs to be made to clarify any possible confusion about how we think about our focus for this morning. Here’s the potential problem. When we hear the phrase, “only Christ,” or “only through Christ,” what many of us hear, unconsciously, is, “Only Christianity.” We hear that phrase “only Christ,” and we may be tempted to think, “This means that Christianity is superior to every religion. ‘Only Christ’ means ‘Not Judaism or Islam or Buddhism or Hinduism.’”
So the first act of our sermon this morning involves correcting that misunderstanding. When reformers of the sixteenth century used the phrase “Solus Christus,” meaning “only Christ,” or “Solo Christo,” meaning “only by way of Christ,” the issue of comparing Christianity to any other religion was not on anyone’s radar screen. The only church the reformers and those to whom they were speaking knew was the Roman Church. And while a number of people might have had a nodding acquaintance with Judaism, only a few would have been even peripherally aware of other religions—most likely Islam. But the reformers were not at all trying to persuade people that Christianity was superior to any other religion. That was not their issue.
What Martin Luther and others were talking about was the importance of Christ, not in comparison to other religions, but in comparison to the hierarchy of the church, the priests and bishops and pope. As you may remember from earlier weeks in this series on the Protestant Reformation, the issue that most irked Luther was the notion that salvation could be put up for sale. When the clergy sold indulgences to their parishioners, it fried him, because that’s not the way salvation happens. Priests can’t claim that power. They should not be allowed to dole out God’s grace and favor according to their own greed and parched spirituality. Only by the grace of Christ are we saved, not by the machinations of priests beholden to paltry agendas.
“Only Christ” means, in the church, that only Jesus Christ can bring about oneness with God, and deep peace, and the fullness of the presence of the Spirit. Not priests. Not bishops. Not the Pope. Only Christ. That’s Act I of the sermon.
Act II. The way this Christ shapes us grows out of the core of who Jesus was and is. And we see that Jesus in the remarkable counter-cultural image of a servant giving up self for the sake of others. The apostle Paul writes with aching beauty about the wonders of a Christ who took the form of a servant, “and being found in human form, . . . humbled Christ’s self and became obedient to the point of death—even death on a cross” (Philippians 2:7-8). The core of Jesus—and the call to us—lies in self-giving, in letting go of insistence on our own way, of finding unity in diversity precisely because we are willing to deny ourselves some of the things we cling to most passionately. That’s Act II of the sermon: humility is at the core of this Christ.
And here’s Act III. There are 1000 different directions we could go this morning in reflecting on the significance of Christ in our midst. Christ is made manifest in an endless variety of ways in our daily lives and in the larger world. In this act of the sermon, we’re going to focus on one dimension. I want to unpack some of the admirable reactions that have emerged to the controversy swirling in our country about how professional athletes deport themselves when our national anthem is played. In large swaths of the discussion, there is much heat and little, if any, light. Where is the risen Christ in it all?
Striking, though comparatively under-publicized, is that in the midst of the sometimes strident voices dominating in this matter, there are other voices that speak in a measured, humble way, and that call us to a different way of seeing things. Two people I want to lift up in particular this morning are Alejandro Villanueva and Terry Francona. Because I think their thoughtful reflections on the issue can point us in some helpful and healing directions.
First, it’s incumbent upon us to say clearly that calling out football players and labeling them “SOBs”—though without the abbreviations—as the president has done, is over-the-line. It is not remotely helpful or salutary in moving us through this in a healthy way. All it does is fan flames of disrespect and lead to further discord. What we need are graced and nuanced ways through this impasse.
We see that with Alejandro Villanueva. Villanueva is a left tackle who plays for the Pittsburgh Steelers. Last Sunday, as the game was about to begin, he stood on the field where the players’ tunnel emerges from the locker room. He was the only Steeler standing on the field, and he put his hand on his heart and sang the national anthem. He was praised in many quarters for his willingness to buck the other Steelers and show his patriotism. His jersey became the hottest selling NFL jersey.
Striking in all this was the colossal misunderstanding that led to this misdirected praise. So Villanueva held a press conference the next day, to say how sorry he was that he had embarrassed his teammates, and that what viewers saw was not at all what he had intended.
Villanueva is a former Army Ranger, and what he had wanted was to stand with the Steelers’ captains just inside the tunnel entrance so he could see the American flag and sing the anthem, and to do so in the presence of his teammates. By going too far out of that tunnel, it looked as though he was the only one on the team who cared enough to sing and honor the flag. That, he says, was not at all the case. “I’ve made Coach Tomlin look bad, and that is my fault and my fault only. I’ve made my teammates look bad, and that is my fault and my fault only. And I’ve made the Steelers also look bad, and that is my fault and my fault only.”
What Villanueva had wanted was to stand with his teammates and to demonstrate the unity that he views as so crucial in this cultural climate. He himself has a reverence for the American flag, and he wants to be able to honor it before football games. But he is just as aware that many of his teammates have different feelings, and that they feel a need to protest the inequality and injustice they see in this country. It’s a palpably humble approach that Villanueva has taken. “I have learned,” he said, “that I don’t know what it’s like to be from Dade County. I don’t know what it’s like to be from Lakeland. I can’t tell you that I know what my teammates have gone through, so I’m not going to pretend like I have the righteous sort of voice to tell you that you should stand up for the national anthem.” Villanueva’s intent was to join his teammates in showing their unity even amidst their diversity, and he felt he had let them down.
What we see in Villanueva is a man strongly committed to his own demonstration of patriotism, while also aware of his own limits, and of the crucial and different voices of others, on his team and in the country. Return for a moment to the words of the apostle Paul. Modeling yourselves on the humility of Christ, he says to the Philippians: “Agree with each other, love each other, be deep-spirited friends. Don’t push your way to the front; don’t sweet-talk your way to the top. Put yourself aside, and help others get ahead. Don’t be obsessed with getting your own advantage. Forget yourselves long enough to lend a helping hand” (2:2-4, The Message). That’s Villanueva and his Christ-shaped humility.
Then there’s our own local manager, Terry Francona of the Indians. Francona is as nuanced and gracious as Villanueva. After the widespread protests occurring in NFL stadiums, Francona didn’t know what his baseball team would do. So he went to talk to some of his players, including African-Americans Austin Jackson and Greg Allen this past Sunday to see if they planned on protesting. Here’s Francona’s account of his conversations: “I talked to a couple guys, and I’ve talked to them before. My point to them was, one, I wanted to listen. But I just kind of wanted to express that I wasn’t talking to them to dissuade somebody. I just think if somebody felt strong enough about it, there would be a way as a team to show support, because we do things together.
“It’s easy for me to sit here and say, ‘Well, I think this is the greatest country in the world,’ because I do. But I also haven’t walked in other people’s shoes. So until I think, not just our country, but our world, until we realize that, hey, people are actually equal—it shouldn’t be a revelation—and that different doesn’t mean less. It’s just different. We’ve got work to do.
“So I just wanted to make sure that they understood, like if they felt pressure or whatever was on their minds, that as a team we can support each other. That was kind of all it was” (The Plain Dealer, Sept. 25, 2017, p. B3). That may be “all it was,” but it’s brilliant. Christ-like humility in Terry Francona.
Villanueva and Francona are bright lights in this sometimes halting and frayed national conversation about race. Because what each of them does is express his strongly-held opinion—in both cases, a patriotic fervor—while also knowing that there are palpable fissures and unconscionable injustices. Each of them knows that a healing balm is needed if there is to be any real progress.
And they both provide it. They listen to voices different from their own. They refrain from name-calling. They respect variety of thought and expression. They eschew self-righteous moralizing. And they’re intent on making what’s broken whole. Unity and humility are vital to them both.
That’s Act III of the sermon. If we had more time, we’d explore this in more depth, and we’d invite conversation. We don’t have that time in this setting, though. So we’ll suffice to leave it at this. A humble Christ is at the core of our faith. Not the slightest bit wishy-washy or soft-spined, this is a Christ who is deeply principled. It is also a Christ who is eager to hear the opinions of others, a Christ who seeks to understand, a Christ who knows that wisdom is bigger than all of us. On this communion Sunday, in the midst of what is often steamy national conversation, heed again the Christ to whom alone we are called to pledge our deepest allegiance. And listen again to those words of Paul’s: “Agree with each other, love each other, be deep-spirited friends. Don’t push your way to the front; don’t sweet-talk your way to the top. Put yourself aside, and help others get ahead. Don’t be obsessed with getting your own advantage. Forget yourselves long enough to lend a helping hand.” That’s the gospel of the humble Christ. So be it.