The Cross and the Raft
Old
Testament Reading: Genesis 6:11-17
New Testament
Reading: Matthhew
16:24
I have been planning to preach this morning's sermon
for some
time. But what made me decide to
write it and give it this week
was a conversation Carol and I
had after church last week. She
said she felt some people might
be affronted or at least confused by my not infrequent
remarks that "The Bible says this, but
I don't care," "We can't be sure Jesus
said this or that," etc. How can I make so free with the Holy Bible, a book
with a halo?
It's not that Carol's religious views are more
conservative than
mine -- far from it! But she is
always sensitive to people's
possible reactions, a skill that I
rely on.
And since this sermon idea bore on that topic, I
decided this might be the time for it.
I have to begin (as though I have not yet begun!)
with a parable
from Buddhist, I think
specifically Zen, tradition. A bit of
background: Zen is a radical sort of
Buddhism which is often
depicted by strange and shocking
images such as that of a monk
tearing asunder the scroll of
scripture, or using holy images as
so much kindling wood. I tell
you, I like a religion that can do
things like that! But how can
they? Here is where the Parable of
the Raft comes in.
In all forms of Buddhism, Buddhism itself is
compared to a raft. "Mahayana" Buddhism is the great raft,
"Hinayana" Buddhism the
narrow raft. The idea is that you
need to get from this place to
another, better place. You need to
get from Samsara to Nirvana,
from worldly existence with its
lust and pain to the other side
where lust and pain are
extinguished like a flame.
You have a river to cross to go from here to there,
and there is
no bridge. But luckily there
is a raft, or you can make one. The
raft, then, is absolutely
crucial -- but only while you are fording the stream. Hear then the
parable, or the conclusion thereof.
The Buddha asked,
Would he be a clever man if, out of gratitude for
the raft that
has carried him across the
stream to safety, he, having
reached the other shore, should
cling to it, take it on his
back, and walk about with the
weight of it? Would not the
clever man be the one who left the
raft (of no use to him any
longer) to the current of the
stream, and walked ahead with
out turning back to look at it?
Is it not simply a tool to be
cast away and forsaken once it
has served the purpose for
which it was made? In the same
way the vehicle of the doctrine is to be cast away and forsaken
once the other shore of
Enlightenment has
been attained.
I invite you to
contrast with this splendid parable the Gospel
text we read this morning. In it
Jesus says, "If any one would
join me, let him take up his
cross and follow me."
Insofar as this saying mandates the courage of one's
convictions,
it is to be accepted and
honored. There can be no excuse for what
in fact has become predominant
in our day: a popular Christianity
in which the cross is a plus
sign, as one TV evangelist says, in
which Christ has been confused
with Mammon, and the object of
faith is to get rich. If this
saying disabuses us of the fatal
illusion that following Christ is a
joy ride, well and good. It
has done its work.
But seen a different way, the implications of the
saying are a
little distressing. For in it does
not Jesus advocate doing just
what the Buddha lampooned?
In both sayings we have the striking
image of a man bearing about on
his back a heavy wooden structure
as an act of religious
discipleship. Only where Gautama the Buddha ridicules it, Jesus the
Christ urges it.
I do not mean to suggest that Jesus and the Buddha
were at odds. Rather my point is that I regard it as a mistake to
understand
and apply Jesus' saying in such
a way that it would fall prey to
the Buddha's criticism. For
me, it must mean something else.
Because I do believe that the doctrine, the faith,
the symbols of
the Christian tradition may and
eventually must be transcended. And that if you are unwilling even to entertain that
prospect,
you are in danger of committing
idolatry. Perhaps even an idolatry of the Cross.
You see, the Buddha is saying that none of the
trappings of
religion is important as anything
other than a vehicle to get you
to that farther shore. For
that, they are vitally important
(though,
Zen theorizes, not necessarily the only way to do it:
there may be shortcuts). But once
they have done their job, what
is their interest? Museum relics. Childish things to be put
aside.
Wouldn't that be equally true of the Cross and
Christianity? Are
they instruments of salvation?
Jesus may be the way, but is he
the destination? Isn't he the
way to God? He himself says he is
not the destination. What
does he say? "Whoever believes in me
believes not in me, but in
him who sent me."
What I'm getting at is that if what was supposed to
be a means to
an end becomes instead an end
in itself, then you are making it
an obstacle in the way of
the very goal it was designed to lead
to! By idolizing it, you are
stymieing its very purpose! The purpose of a raft is simply to
ford the stream, nothing else!
You may say that the Buddha's parable is true in the
abstract but
in practice irrelevant since
you and I are still crossing the
stream. None of us are beyond need
of the raft!
All right, maybe that's true. But the fact remains:
if you think
the raft is never to be
left behind, if it is for you a permanent
fixture -- you are making
absolutely sure you will never get to
the other side of the stream!
You will stay there in the river so you can stay on
the blessed
raft! What's the point? If you
are so certain you will never be
leaving the raft, you won't even
be on the look-out for the
shore!
If eventually you do hit it, you will tell
yourself, "Uh-oh! I
guess I'm running aground on some
rocks! I'd better pull out into
deeper waters!" And so you'll
retreat from the shore like the
faint-hearted Israelites who retreated
from the promised victory
at Kadesh-Barnea,
and went back into the desert for 40 dreary
years!
If all this Bible-plus-Buddhism sounds like
syncretism with a
thin Christian veneer, let me
remind you that this Zen attitude
is the very essence of
Protestantism, what Tillich called "the
Protestant Principle."
The motive force of
Protestantism was the recognition that only
God is ultimate. There is properly no ultimate
concern but he. Everything else is secondary at best. Is the eucharist holy in
its own right? No, only insofar
as it mediates salvation to us.
Is the Bible holy? Yes, but only insofar as it
"bears Christ" to
us. Martin Luther was quite
clear on this point. The creeds, the
doctrines, none of them is a sacred
cow. No ark is untouchable. Because if they are, then they are God.
No opinion, no theological theory, not even the
Trinity or the
divine nature of Christ, can be
unquestionable, but if they are,
then they have become the
objects of worship. The true God has
been shrunk down to the
proportions of an idol.
Let me switch religions again. Here is a saying of
Jesus from an
Islamic source. In it Jesus is referring to
this world, but I
think it equally applicable to
the Bible and all religious trap
pings. "This world is a
bridge: pass over it, but do not build
your dwelling upon it." And
so with the Bible: not an end in
itself; rather a stop-gap
measure.
I may seem to you to speak of holy things in a
cavalier way. But
that is because I have learned
this lesson, if no other.
Last Sunday night Carol and I were watching a C-SPAN
broadcast of
a panel of political handlers
and spin doctors discussing the
presidential campaign. The inevitable
soon became obvious. These
guys were all committed
supporters of Bush, Perot, or Clinton. Thus the whole thing was a charade. They were party
hacks. Everything they said was axe-grinding propaganda.
All of it was
worthless. No one could be trusted to
say what he really thought. They were a bunch of miserable yes-men, like the
court prophets
of
Israel, on the king's payroll to use
God as a ventriloquist
dummy to prophesy whatever the
king wanted to hear!
Must a theologian, must a preacher, be a party hack
for the
church? Must he or she bend over
backwards to defend the Bible or
the institution at every point?
When we do that, we discredit the
whole thing! If there is really
any value in the thing, the only
way to find out is to call a
spade a spade. Take a sober look at
it with as clear and
unprejudiced an eye as you can manage.
If you don't, let me tell you what will happen. You
will lose all
sense of judgment. Matthew tells
you to beware false prophets. How? "By their fruits you shall know
them." But you will no
longer be able to perform that
task.
If you are a good theologian, licking the boots of
the Holy
Bible, that is, making every part of the Bible sound
holy, no
matter what it really sounds
like, you will soon lose any sense
for what deserves to be called
holy and what doesn't!
You read the
wonderful utterances of the Sermon on the Mount or
the Prophet Isaiah, and you
recognize there something so special
that you are tempted to call it
the Word of God. And then you read the bogeyman stories of Leviticus
and Acts,
where erring believers are struck
down by a peevish deity for
failing to meet their church pledge
or for daring to challenge
the authority of God's
self-appointed spokesmen. If you had any
moral judgment at all, you would
reject this as so much priest
craft and humbug.
But you have been taught that it is better
Christianity to eschew
judgment. To make these absurdities
as much the Word of God as
the sublime oracles of Jesus
Christ. Woe unto you, who call good
evil and evil good! And woe to
the fossilized doctrine that made
you do it!
This misdirected veneration is like that of the
fanatical fan. Have you met someone who is so devoted to the work
of a particular actor, artist, writer, or
whatever, that he can no longer see
any difference in quality
between the artist's masterpieces and
his pathetic juvenilia? He
loves the artist's work too much! He
degrades the masterpiece by thinking
the dreck just as good!
So with the Bible! By raising the voodoo killing of Ananias and
Sapphira or Dathan
and Abiram to the level of the poetry of
Isaiah, you are
really lowering the great prophet to their level!
The Bible is a raft! Sail on it, but if you think
your job is to
bear it up forever, with all its
superstitions and moral out
rages, you will need the strength
of Atlas. Cast it aside!
Or at least cast aside the blasphemy that in whole
and in part it
is the Word of God!
Some years ago John McKenzie wrote a couple of books
called The
Old Testament Without
Illusion
and The New Testament Without
Illusion. I am trying to strip from
myself any illusions about
the Bible, to see if there is
anything there that is not illusion! And of course you know I
see remaining a great chest open
and filled with treasures. I
have named some of them. There are
many more.
Another thing happened to me last Sunday. In the
afternoon I
participated in the ordination of Jo
Ellen Willis to the Unitarian ministry. I knew Jo Ellen
briefly at Drew. One afternoon she
had introduced herself to me,
telling me she knew me from my
writings in The Epistle.
A couple of weeks ago, I received the engraved
invitation to her
ordination. Then I assumed it was pro
forma to invite all the
clergy of the town. I decided to
go. When I got there I realized
she had invited me personally,
and that all the other clergy
present were Unitarian Universalists! I had, as it were, been honorarily added to their number for
the day! I felt quite honored. And as the service
proceeded, God help me, I felt like I belonged there!
But I will admit to one complaint: there were no Bible
readings,
no scripture readings of any
kind, not Christian, not Buddhist,
as I read you this morning!
Instead there were only a couple of
sappy blank verse, touchy-feely
poems.
I have not reached the farther shore. So I still use
and love the
Bible. But I do not think the
Bible is the farther shore, so I do
not worship the Bible. I do not
speak of it meekly, in hushed
tones. I do not flinch at being
judged by it, but neither do I
flinch at judging it when
necessary. I may not have the courage
to carry the cross, but I do
have sense enough not to carry the
raft. How about you?
Robert M. Price