August 03, 10:30am, 7pm (Sare Gordy)
And religion does something else – it sets an example for us to follow. Mostly that example is to be commended, but sometimes it is twisted horribly. In that way, it shares that tendency with the movie industry, and before movies, books, stories, and myths. In the words of Karen Armstrong, a philosopher and theologian, “The myths of the hero, for example, are not meant to give us historical information about Prometheus or Achilles – or for that matter, about Jesus or Buddha, [or, I would add, Luke Skywalker or Clark Kent]. Their purpose is to compel us to act in such a way that we bring out our own heroic potential.”
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This sermon could be entitled “How Movies are Like Religion, in ways both good and bad.”
Movies entice you to see them, to come and be entertained. Entertainment is the primary motive…until it isn’t. Because movies also inform us, enflame us, flood us with emotion or adrenaline – they speak to us of the human condition in all of its beauty, in all of its treachery. They exploit and work within and against the underlying assumptions of the culture – the genre that does this most skillfully is comedy, which is why it doesn’t translate well internationally – there is too much to explain concerning the nuances of culture and why the joke should be funny that by the time the explanation finishes, it’s not funny anymore.
Religion entices you to take part, to come and be fulfilled. Fulfillment is (arguably) the primary motive, but what does that mean, fulfillment? To be filled. That implies that there is something lacking. Another way to think about it is the search, or journey toward balance and wholeness, which implies that there might be lack, and there might also be everything needed, just in odd proportions. Religion addresses the human condition in all of its beauty, and in all of its treachery. It is set within and against the underlying assumptions of the culture from which it was born – which can be confounding, as most religions are between one to three thousand years old, and even those that have stayed within the same geographical context, cultures have evolved, merged, touched, recoiled, assimilated, risen and fallen since then.
And religion does something else – it sets an example for us to follow. Mostly that example is to be commended, but sometimes it is twisted horribly. In that way, it shares that tendency with the movie industry, and before movies, books, stories, and myths. In the words of Karen Armstrong, a philosopher and theologian, “The myths of the hero, for example, are not meant to give us historical information about Prometheus or Achilles – or for that matter, about Jesus or Buddha, [or, I would add, Luke Skywalker or Clark Kent]. Their purpose is to compel us to act in such a way that we bring out our own heroic potential.”
Of course, movies and religion share the same double-downfall in this respect as well. Sometimes, nothing happens at all. It was a nice story, whether it was about Spiderman or Moses, but we walk away cold, without any clear connection as to how this might change our life for the better, what we might do in a concrete way, that would be any different from what we’ve done before. In fact, not only is there nothing for us to do any differently, we don’t even have much of a handle on even thinking differently. Sometimes, there is neither comfort nor challenge. Sometimes, there’s nothing. And that’s not right.
And sometimes there’s something, and its dark and twisted. The deepest most dreadful part of the human experience is mined for its substance, but rather than bringing it up, showing it for what it is – pain, misery, suffering, a soul in need of healing, rest, and respite, it is put up on a pedestal, as if to say, ‘here it is, this is the only truth left to us: life’s tough and then you die.’ And whether that’s Heath Ledger as a creepy Joker, or a preacher with hellfire burning in his eyes, the message is the same: ‘Fear is the only thing I have to offer this world.’ And that’s not right.
No, it’s not right. And back to Karen Armstrong, she says, “the religious quest is not about discovering ‘the truth’ or ‘the meaning of life’ but about living as intensely as possible here and now. The idea is not to latch onto some superhuman personality or to ‘get to heaven’ but to discover how to be fully human – hence the images of the perfect or enlightened man, or the deified human being. Archetypal figures such as Muhammad, the Buddha, and Jesus become icons of fulfilled humanity. God or Nirvana is not an optional extra, tacked onto our human nature. Men and women have a potential for the divine, and are not complete unless they realize it within themselves.”
And God, I think, would agree. Here in Isaiah this morning, God invites us to the feast, where we can be fulfilled, and if you think we’re just talking about food here, let me invite you to broaden your mind: this part of Isaiah was maybe 25 centuries ago, a different time and place, but not so different from many parts of the world now: if you had food, you had life, and neither one was to be taken for granted. Images of feasting were a bit more directly related to living life abundantly then perhaps they are now for most of us.
We are invited by God to live life abundantly. We are invited by all of our heroes to live into our own heroism, into our own best selves. We have been invited to join the feast, to join the party, and the only thing that can possibly keep us away, is ourselves.
We have been invited. The invitations have been sent. Have you received yours?
Amen.
