They heard the sound
of the Lord God walking in the garden at the time of the evening breeze, and
the man and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God among the
trees of the garden. But the Lord God called to the man, and said to him,
‘Where are you?’ He said, ‘I heard the sound of you in the garden, and I was
afraid, because I was naked; and I hid myself.’ He said, ‘Who told you that you
were naked? Have you eaten from the tree of which I commanded you not to eat?’
The man said, ‘The woman whom you gave to be with me, she gave me fruit from
the tree, and I ate.’ Then the Lord God said to the woman, ‘What is this that
you have done?’ The woman said, ‘The serpent tricked me, and I ate.’ The Lord
God said to the serpent, ‘Because you have done this, cursed are you among all
animals and among all wild creatures; upon your belly you shall go, and dust
you shall eat all the days of your life.
I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring
and hers; he will strike your head, and you will strike his heel.’ To the woman
he said, ‘I will greatly increase your pangs in childbearing; in pain you shall
bring forth children, yet your desire shall be for your husband, and he shall
rule over you.’ And to the man he said, ‘Because you have listened to the voice
of your wife, and have eaten of the tree about which I commanded you, “You
shall not eat of it”, cursed is the ground because of you; in toil you shall eat
of it all the days of your life; thorns and thistles it shall bring forth for
you; and you shall eat the plants of the field. By the sweat of your face you
shall eat bread until you return to the ground, for out of it you were taken;
you are dust, and to dust you shall return.’
Genesis 3:8-19
Have
you ever seen the movie “Matchstick Men”? It stars Nicholas Cage as a con man
with a unique personality quirk – he’s an obsessive compulsive cleaner.
To
dramatically illustrate this, at one point during the film, there is an
extensive montage scene of him performing a thorough cleaning of every square
inch of his home. The camera zooms in on him as he lies on his back carefully
dusting beneath his living room table with a rag and cleaner.
It’s a
convincing performance. And I have to confess to you that I secretly envied him
while watching him there on his back.
You
see, while I don’t mean to treat mental disorders lightly, part of me really
wishes I could be that obsessed with cleanliness. As I sat there watching his
absurd devotion to this perfection I couldn’t help but think, “Oh, if I only
had the time and energy. Wouldn’t it just be great to live in such an
impeccable home?!?”
Part of
this desire is the recognition that I simply do not live up to this standard –
by any stretch of the imagination. Anyone who has visited our home knows that
it is a chaos of children and pets and laundry and dishes.
This
felt absence of achieving a standard drives a subconscious sense that if I only
could all would be well. I would be satisfied and whole.
The
flip side of this, of course, is my continual failure to succeed means that I
can never truly feel satisfied and whole. All is not well because I simply cannot
arrive at this level of purity and perfection. And we’re not talking about the
whole world here, but just the small space of my own home.
I have
waged mini-wars against dust, but I always lose. Changing furnace filters,
cleaning ducts, washing fans, vacuuming, wiping down walls and window
sills…nothing ever seems to end the cycle.
Worse,
at a deeper level there is the real disappointment that it’s not just me. Even
Nicholas Cage and his dust rag can’t keep something perfectly clean forever.
A well-cleaned home today will need to be cleaned again tomorrow.
This is
due to a fact of life – dust is everywhere, unavoidable. Have you ever paused
for a moment to look at a sunbeam shining through a window? What do you notice?
The air
all around you isn’t just oxygen. There’s a glittering, swirling mass of
visible particles floating all around us that we don’t even notice or think
about until it stares us right in the face.
And I
know I add to the problem with my nasty human habit of constantly shedding skin
and hair particles. Just like that house, no matter how long I spend in the
shower today, I’ll still need one tomorrow.
You
shed dust, you are dust, and to dust you shall return.
This is
the reality of our human condition. I think that’s perhaps why it’s such a
foundational part of the narrative of humanity we find in Genesis. And I think
that this very intimate and personal cycle of creation, consumption, and
dissolution that connects us to all others and the world in its wholeness, its
past and its future, is described here in this passage at this moment in this
text for a reason.
This
break with God’s will, this action or failure to act WELL, is tied here to our
birth, and life, and death, and it applies to us all.
Yes,
I’m talking about the “s” word – sin. I’ll just come out and say it. Like dust,
it exists all around us close to home and far away. And we participate in it,
and it is in us, personally, corporately, globally, from the sneer and the
turning aside to the torture and the distant bomb dropped in our names.
The
fact is that no matter how hard we try, you and I cannot extricate ourselves completely
from this all-encompassing, all-pervasive reality.
And
yet, and yet, while not discounting or dismissing this reality, I believe
Scripture does not make it the focal point. In fact, quite the opposite.
Let’s
take a moment and reflect on this. To whom does Jesus reserve his harshest
rebukes, for example? For the most
religious members of the community. Why is this?
Why
would he call them whitewashed sepulchers?
Why would he tell us to hide our prayers rather than say them in public?
Why
does Paul carry this forward with lengthy arguments against law over faith in
letter after letter?
I think
at least part of the answer has to be that they recognized that a desire for
purity and perfection can consume you.
It’s an
impossible standard – Paul in Romans, all have sinned and fallen short of the
glory of God.
An
argument can be made that this is one of, if not THE central theme of the New
Testament.
In the
book Viral, George Fox University
professor Leonard Sweet explains it like this: “Christianity is a wabi-sabi
religion.
“Wabi-sabi
is the Japanese tradition of celebrating the beauty in what’s flawed or worn,
decrepit or commonplace. I call it the art of imperfect beauty. Wabi-sabi
offers an inspiring new way to look at your home, your life, your ministry,
your church…”
“To
discover wabi-sabi,” says Sweet, “is to understand God’s hallowing of
hollowed-out, broken people to bless a harried world. Wabi-sabi understands the
singular beauty of wetlands, the raw richness of repentance, the tender
acceptance of another day lived with all its marvels and mistakes.”
“A
wabi-sabi home does not confuse godliness with cleanliness and is at peace with
the dirt of its surroundings.”
“Christianity
is a wabi-sabi religion.”
In
contrast, an overly zealous pursuit of cleanliness – moral or otherwise – can
turn a person into a moral monster, robbing both themselves and others of peace
and blessing and grace.
One
that scolds another for bringing healing at the wrong time or the wrong place,
for spending time in the wrong places with the wrong people, for neglecting “holy”
purity in order step off the road and into the gutter to pick up and care for a
wounded stranger. One that, for whatever good reason, confuses following the
letter of the law with its spirit.
So I
don’t think Scripture gives us an image of humanity absent a tremendous
capacity for evil, but I also don’t think it denies us the opportunity to be a
part of its tremendous capacity for good.
Jesus
doesn’t deny the sin of adultery, he just says to go and do it no more. And where
the overwhelming weight of our own and the world’s sin could lead us to despair,
bitterness, rage, or paralysis, Paul says “No, you no longer have to be
consumed by obedience and disobedience to the law.
“Instead,
strive toward the finish and the fullness of Christ. Run the good race in spite
of the thorns in your flesh.”
To me
this means two steps - first acknowledging the reality of sin – its hold on us,
and our embeddeness and participation in it.
But
then it also means not letting that sin be our master – to strive but not be
overcome. To hold onto that reality, but to hold it lightly.
This leads
to a potentially profound turn. I think it may be part of what Jesus and Paul tried
so desperately to get across.
When we
take seriously both the reality of our place within sin as well as our freedom
from its choking hold, this places us in a very different relation to those
around us, those whom we might be tempted to judge or scorn.
We can
be humble before God and before our neighbor. We can be broken people blessing
a harried world.
When we
make this move, we can finally let go of the rocks we hold so tightly in our
hands…and let them fall away like so much dust.
A friend once told me if there is no solution there is no problem...humanity's desperate certainty that our sin is more true than our love, hope, joy, etc. creates a problem without a real world solution. Mystically we may be made whole in Christ Jesus, but that relationship doesn't seem to make us perfect people. Maybe what it does is communicate to us the upside down truth of the gospel. We can boldly approach God irregardless of our ability to see ourselves as God sees us.
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