What’s Sin Got to Do with It?

In today’s world, sin is not a popular topic. Some have said that the decline in the popularity of Christian religion is its obsession about sin and sinfulness. In the minds of many this leads to a dour, downcast view of the world that recalls the puritanical days of Hester Prynne and The Scarlet Letter. Add to it all the larger than life scandals of the last decade in Christian churches of every stripe and we have a heady mix of moralistic preaching, inauthenticity, and skepticism about anything the Church might have to say about sin and the need for redemption.

This morning at Ridley Hall, a presentation on the spirituality of sin (you got that right) by a recent graduate working on his PhD in theology, The Rev’d Johnny Torrence, introduced some helpful imagery that might go a long way to return us to a more helpful view of this central doctrine of Christian teaching.

Luther and Melancthon
from the windows in the
Chapel at Ridley Hall

Focusing on Martin Luther’s teaching (Luther in an Anglican College?), Torrence suggested we look less at sin from the usual legal metaphors of judgment we so often use. Rather, he suggested, look at sin primarily from a medical point of view.

In this view sin is not merely a series of bad choices (guilty acts) but rather a state of ill health for which we must seek a cure. The cause of the that illness is the conviction that we can somehow find the solution to our deepest problems (regardless of what they are) within ourselves – that we need nothing or no one else. Consequently, we dig deeper and deeper – ever downward, only to come up empty – and when we do, we too often turn to the quick fix – to something that will take away the emptiness or pain that we feel – whether it be some substance, self-soothing behavior, or other temporary, and always short-term fix. The only long-term remedy is a long, hard look at ourselves to assess our brokenness and to determine our true need, namely, to turn out of ourselves to recognize our need another, for the One who understands every element of what is truly human about us – the God-Man, Jesus.

As Torrence went on, I began to think about the series Doc Martin, which I have long enjoyed on PBS. Martin Ellingham is a deeply flawed character. Who ever heard of a physician, a surgeon, no less, who pales at the sight of blood? That is the least of his problems. Throughout the series, he is portrayed as a self-righteous know-it-all, who, despite his phlebo-phobia, is an overly competent physician assigned by the National Health Service to a small fishing town populated by simple, working-class people. Daily, they present themselves with illnesses, for which he is usually able to find an appropriate treatment. He cannot always offer a cure, and his bedside manner isn’t always the best, but he always brings his skills to bear on his patients and allows them to accept (or not) the solution he offers. Sometimes they can be stubborn, but so can he. Sometimes, they will refuse to recognize what ails them, until they reach the point that they are in mortal danger and critical decisions must be made.

I think that is the way it is with God’s healing grace, too. In our brokenness, we can all be stubborn. We can all refuse the advice of the Great Physician – we can refuse to recognize what ails us and continue doing just what we have been doing, all the while wondering why our souls still hurt and our hearts still ache. Yet, God’s grace abounds. That healing grace is always there for our taking – if only we would recognize that which is broken within – our sin – and allow the healer's art to work.

Back to Dr. Ellingham. As members of the Anglican family of Christians, we believe that we live in a sacramental world - a world where God's grace is transmitted through signs that we can perceive - words, things, touch, symbols of every kind. As a priest, I am supposed to be one of those sacramental signs for the Church. Today, I confess that I can identify a whole lot with Doc Martin. I have a whole lot of knowledge and skill crammed in this head of mine. Academic degrees, certificates, years of experience, but I, too, am still broken, like you. I can be stubborn and strong-willed, a bit of a know-it-all at times. Perhaps lacking in bedside manner. Perhaps there are things like Martin’s phobia that I look to avoid in the conduct of my ministry. Yes, I, too, am a sinner. But as one called to be a priest I am a sinner called into the grace of Jesus Christ not only for my salvation but for yours as well. I am called to be a priest with you and for you – to tell you that you are sinners, like me, not to scold you or put you down or disparage you, but to help you see that the grace of God abounds all the more. And that it is by that grace we are healed, that we are saved. Together. 

Thanks be to God. Alleluia! Alleluia!