Easter 5, Year A

April 20, 2008

The Rev. Dena Cleaver-Bartholomew

Confidence can be a great advantage. There was a story this week on National Public Radio about the emergence of a new swimsuit by Speedo which was developed with the assistance of technology from NASA. The neck to ankle swimsuit has been worn by four out of six recent world record setters and is causing controversy in the swimming world as the summer Olympics approach. One previous Olympic swimmer downplayed the significance of the technological advantage such a swimsuit might offer. The true advantage, he maintained, was psychological. It is the swimmer who stands on the swim block feeling fully confident that he has what it takes to win who has the real advantage. Any slight bonus in the technology is nothing compared to what is in the swimmer’s head.

Anxiety, the opposite of confidence, can also hold great influence in both how we approach a situation and what the outcome is. In today’s Gospel we hear Jesus addressing the implied anxiety of the disciples as the time for Jesus to be arrested and crucified draws near. “Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me.” One of the antidotes for anxiety is faith, faith as in belief, trust, or confidence. The more serious the situation, the more challenging such faith can be. Anxiety tends to make us less receptive, less imaginative, and more demanding of certainty and concreteness. It is no wonder Thomas got practical, saying “Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?” The more Jesus moved toward metaphor to open up a new level of understanding, the more the disciples articulated their need for the literal, the tangible, to address their own level of discomfort. A little proof would be handy. Philip said “Lord, show us the Father, and we will be satisfied.” The disciples had been given what they need to believe, even if it was not all the evidence they would have liked. Our relationship with God is in a basic way like other relationships. We spend what time we can with the other and at some point must decide whether we are willing to risk the leap of love and trust with them or not. Yes, it’s good to make an informed decision. Yes, we could be wrong. We will not know for sure, however, unless we try.

Author William James gave a powerful illustration of what it means to take that leap with confidence. James was a mountain climber and posited a situation in which he would find himself stuck on the side of a cliff. The only way out is to leap across an abyss to safety. It is a leap he is not sure he can make, but it is essential that he does. He therefore has two choices. He can decide it is impossible, make a poor attempt at the leap he knows is too difficult, and die. Or he can turn in hope and confidence to the one path to safety and make the leap, possibly buoyed by ability beyond his normal scope because he believes he can do it. Having faith is to our advantage, claims James. “Believe, and you shall be right, for you shall save yourself; doubt, and you shall again be right, for you shall perish. The only difference is that to believe is greatly to your advantage.”

We all walk that fine line between belief and doubt, sometimes feeling the pull of both, like the father who cried to Jesus “I believe; help my unbelief!” We begin with what we know to be true and see where it leads us. Today’s reading from the Acts of the Apostles provides two very different responses to the Good News of Jesus Christ. The first is that of Stephen, who was chosen and ordained as one of the original deacons. Stephen was described as “full of grace and power.” So certain of his faith was he that after his arrest on trumped up charges Stephen preached an overview of salvation history before the high priest and the council, culminating in Jesus as the fulfillment of God’s saving plan. Stephen believed, and he was right, for he was granted a glimpse of Jesus standing at the right hand of God. Yet Stephen preached the Gospel in a way that was condemnatory, saying “You stiff-necked people, uncircumcised in heart and ears, you are forever opposing the Holy Spirit, just as your ancestors used to do.” It is not terribly surprising that the Jewish people present respond by covering their ears and stoning him. Had he been a televangelist I would have rolled my eyes at the missed opportunity and changed the channel. Yes, Stephen was right—dead right. Had he preached invitation rather than judgment the result might have been quite different. As it was, he became the first Christian martyr and many a Jewish heart was hardened against Jesus. It appears that Stephen was busy reacting to the crucifixion of Jesus and the Jewish people were busy reacting to his offensive words. In the middle of all the anxiety it seems like the Gospel got lost, or at least overlooked.

How is it that we, as disciples of Christ, can move through all that makes us anxious and come to believe? How could we share our faith with others in a way that invites them to belief? The model set by the father who uttered the cry “I believe; help my unbelief!” is a great place to start. He acknowledges the tension between where he is in faith and where he hopes to be, and he asks for help. Jesus modeled many ways of opening up possibilities for a leap of faith in his ministry. He used metaphor and simile to move us out of always being literal and concrete. He told parables that required thought and didn’t give direct answers to questions. He was both prayerful and playful, which people sometimes found disconcerting. Jesus dealt with matters of life and death in ways that were not always deadly serious. His ministry modeled invitation, yet he could clearly say no, express anger, and establish boundaries. Jesus looked fear and death right in the face and, despite his own real desire to avoid the pain and suffering of crucifixion, went forward in confidence. In the end, we have to make the choice for ourselves and be able to talk about it with others, wherever we are in the process. God invites, cajoles, lures, persists, and even shoves. We can cling to the side of the cliff and refuse to try or we can take the risk. You’ll find plenty of people to champion both approaches to faith. Personally, I like one written long ago by Apollinaire:

“COME TO THE EDGE.”

“No, we will fall.”

“COME TO THE EDGE.”

“No, we will fall.”

They came to the edge.

He pushed them, and they flew.