A Resurrection People
You may be surprised that I chose this passage from Paul’s letter to the Romans from today’s lectionary readings. Paul is not the most sympathetic character in the New Testament, and he often gets a bad rap in progressive theology circles. But I have gained some sympathy for Paul over the years, and I think that some of his writings are worth redeeming. Particularly in this case, where I happen to agree with the point he is trying to make.
When Paul sat down to write this long letter, he wasn’t writing to you or to me. He was writing, just as he did all of his letters, to a particular church in a particular time and in a particular place. Most of his letters are written to churches he either founded or spent some time with in their early days. This letter to the church at Rome is the exception, though. The church in Rome is well-established, and Paul has never been there. He is going to be visiting, though, and this letter is his letter of introduction. But this church is not only well-established, this is the church the apostles founded. This is Peter’s church. Can you imagine being the guest preacher at Peter’s church? It gives me hives just to think about it! I can’t imagine how Paul was feeling about this. Especially since Paul started out as a persecutor of the church. His conversion happened after Jesus death and resurrection, and since his missionary journeys carried him all over, he probably hadn’t even met most of Jesus’ disciples, much less spent any significant time with them. And, as if this were not all enough, Paul and Peter are in the midst of a theological disagreement. Peter thinks that if a non-Jew is going to become a Christian, that person must become Jewish first, circumcision, dietary laws, the whole thing, and then the conversion to Christianity is in the context of their Judaism. Paul thinks that if a person wishes to become a Christian, Christianity is a new thing, different from Judaism, and so a person can convert directly to Christianity without being bound by the rules of Judaism. The fact that this seems like an odd argument tells you who won out in the end, but in the early days of Christianity, this was the largest debate going on. As a result, this letter to the church at Rome is Paul’s most complete and complex theological treatise. It’s hard to follow, sometimes, and is best read in very small amounts.
So now we have arrived at today’s passage. Paul knows that how we live our lives is key, and he also knows that how we understand our relationship to God will have an affect on how we live our lives. Do we follow the rules of behavior laid out for faithful Christians? For faithful Jews? And if we do live by those rules, do we eventually become ruled by the rules? Or do we live our lives by grace? Can we do anything we want, certain of God’s mercy, free to do whatever we want, without regard for the community of people around us? How, exactly, do we balance these things? Paul doesn’t create a formula – 48.5% rules and 51.5% grace – he instead makes a metaphor, hoping that people will grasp a larger concept rather than following another rule about rules and grace. He poses the question – are we people of Jesus’ death? Or are we people of Jesus’ resurrection? In current liturgical terms, are we people defined by Good Friday, or are we people defined by Easter? He argues that we are Easter people. The thing that rules our understanding of our relationship with God is Jesus’ resurrection.
Our sacraments express this same definition. In baptism, we are acknowledging God’s grace, which already exists. The water, symbolizing life and power and all those things, also symbolizes death and rebirth. By dying in the water, we turn our backs on a life defined by sin and death. And when we rise from the water, we turn our faces to a life defined by God’s grace and life everlasting.
In communion, we remember a meal with community. Not a meal of death, but a meal full of promise about the time to come. A meal with a call to live out Jesus’ example into a whole new world and a whole new understanding.
I don’t think you even have to believe in a bodily resurrection to grasp Paul’s argument. He’s arguing for a state of mind – the state of God’s mind and the state of our mind. He is calling us to live our lives in the context of new life, in the context of a God who overcomes all that is evil, and in the context of a God who is even able to overcome death.
If I believe, with Jonathan Edwards, that I am a sinner in the hands of an angry God, that affects how I pray, how I act, how I try to curry God’s favor – it defines my relationship with God and it defines how I am in the world. Contrast that to what happens if I believe that I am created in God’s image, loved by God, and living in God’s grace. That also affects how I pray, how I act, and how I am in relationship with God and how I am in the world. Paul wants us to live in the latter, not in the former. This sunflower needs sun. If we planted it in the shade, it would not flourish. Paul wants us to see that we, like sunflowers, need to live in the sun in order to grow.
I find it hard to define how, exactly, this works, so let me borrow a different metaphor from Paul’s. As many of you know, I compete with my dog in a sport called Agility. Essentially, this is an obstacle course for dogs. There are jumps, tunnels, A-Frames, a long beam called a dog walk, a teeter, weave-poles, etc. And this sport, like all sports, has lots of rules. Some of the rules are to make the competition fair, and others are for the safety of both dogs and handlers. There is a correct way to deal with each obstacle, and for each competition, the judge lays out a course in a particular order. We handlers are allowed to walk the course without our dogs, learning the order of the obstacles and trying to decide how we will move our dogs through this. Then, we run it, one at a time, with our dogs. I can’t touch my dog or bring treats or toys into the ring. My dog has to run without a leash or a collar, and I may not run into (or over) obstacles, leave the ring, or block obstacles. In order to qualify (or Q), my dog has to run each obstacle correctly, in the correct order, and in the amount of time determined by the judge (it varies for length of course and height of dog). If I Q, I get a certain number of points, and the accumulation of points can allow me to advance to harder courses and earn titles for my dog.
There are lots of rules, and the rules sometimes change. I take lessons weekly to practice this with my dog, but before every trial starts, we all gather for a general briefing. We are introduced to the judges, announcements are made about food and vendors and any other relevant thing, and then the person in charge asks two questions –
“We pick up after our dogs where?”
“Everywhere on the planet,” we shout back.
“And we’re here why?”
“To have fun!”

To have fun. Not to Q, not to get a title, not to move up to the next level. And, sure, we do all like to do those things, but I am definitely there to have fun. I can’t even tell you what titles I have on my dog. I play this sport because I like to spend time with my dog, and he has a lot of energy, and this is a great challenge for him. I’ll stop playing when it stops becoming fun for either him or me. If I let the rules rule me, Agility is stressful. I am always in the way of my dog, I don’t practice enough at home, I didn’t study the course well enough, I used the wrong command, I pointed my feet in the wrong direction . . . . But if I’m having fun, then I don’t obsess over the course, I run as fast as I can, I apologize to my dog when I get in his way, I practice when we are able, I still say the wrong command, and I’m grateful when my dog does the right thing despite my feet being pointed in the wrong direction.
Agility, for me, is all about Easter and not about Good Friday. And I think if Paul were writing a letter to the church at Edina, he would encourage us to live our lives as Easter people, people created in the image of God, loved by God, and living in God’s grace. Amen.