Rev. Eugene N. Nelson, Jr.
The Community Church of Sebastopol
October 12, 2008
Romans 7:15-25
At the conclusion of the Lord of the Rings trilogy, after the evil power of Mordor has been defeated and the ring of power destroyed, Frodo, and his fellow Hobbits - Sam, Pippen, and Merry - return to their peaceful home in the Shire and attempt to pick up their lives where they left them, before all this trouble began. But Frodo, who carried the burden of the ring and the evil it represented, and who was, in fact, wounded by one of the weapons of Mordor, cannot settle in. He's at home, yet not at home. And finally he says, "How do you pick up the pieces of your old life and begin again? How do you go on? There are some things time cannot mend. There are some hurts that go too deep, that have taken hold." Finally, he realizes he can no longer stay in the Shire. His battle with the forces of evil and darkness have just taken too much out of him, have changed him too much. His friend and fellow traveler Sam, tries to convince him to stay. After all, this is home. But Frodo says, "We set out to save the Shire, Sam, and it has been saved. But not for me."
The closing scene of Lord of the Rings reminds me of the closing scene from the classic western, Shane. You may recall the film. A lonely gunfighter, Shane, hires on as a hand on a small farm operated by the farmer, his wife and young son. It's an idyllic existence for Shane, living there with that family, rather like the life in the Shire for Frodo, and gradually, over time, Shane is freed from his demons and really has the hope of true contentment. But it cannot last. Blatant evil, in the form of several violent criminals and another gunfighter, intrudes on the paradise, and it painfully dawns on Shane that paradise and its people can only be saved if he straps on his guns once again. He does so and heads into town for a final, violent confrontation with evil. (A movie clip is shown) You heard what he said. "There's no living with the killing, no going back from it. Right or wrong, it's a brand and the brand sticks. No going back." The bloodshed and violence, however necessary and justified, have changed everything, and like Frodo, Shane must go. Paradise has been saved, but not for him.
When Rick Warren, pastor of Saddleback Church, asked John McCain how he would deal with evil, Senator McCain quickly answered, "Destroy it!" Everybody applauded. I was tempted to applaud. I mean, why not destroy evil? Get it before it gets us. It is the American myth of redemptive violence, and a powerful myth it is. There are some problems, some evil, that only violence can overcome, and when the violence is over and we have prevailed, as we will prevail, we can return to life as it was, return to innocence, essentially unchanged. But is it true? Frodo and Shane learn another truth about the struggle with evil. No one is left unchanged.
At this point, another film comes to mind - the most recent Batman epic, The Dark Knight. I don't know if you saw it - but folks, this was one intense film. There was some humor, but not much, it was just a relentlessly dark movie. And I really liked it. And I think one reason is because in the film, as Batman struggles with the evil out there, as personified by the Joker, hauntingly played by the late Heath Ledger, he also struggles with the evil in here, in his own heart. He is fearful that that which he struggles against might very well overwhelm him, if it has not done so already. As people die and the violence spreads in Gotham, he confides to Alfred, his butler and often his conscience, that perhaps, somehow, he is responsible for this, that he is caught up in the moral anarchy being spread by the Joker and may not be able to escape. The very evil he fights might, in fact, be a fatal infection within himself. Does he desire the very evil he has dedicated his life to destroying? And so, when the Joker says to Batman, "We're really not that different, you and me," we wonder if perhaps the Joker might be pretty close to the truth. The evil he fights has its own attraction.
And the great stories seem to understand this. Who is good, who is evil, who is condemned, who is saved, who is innocent, who is guilty? It can get so muddled, so confusing, and it's seemingly impossible to come out of the struggle unscathed. And today, in our text, we heard from someone who seems to understand this: "I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing that I hate. I can will what is right, but I cannot do it. For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do." It is an amazing moment of self-honesty from one who usually seems so confident about everything, right and wrong, black and white. But in this text, I think Paul has really nailed the struggle for himself, for Batman, for Frodo, for Shane, for you and me. When I want to do good, when I want to do what is right, evil lies so very close at hand. Even actions with the best of intentions can get all turned around. And we discover we may not be as innocent, as blameless, as pure of heart as we might like to think.
A few years ago, Frederick Buechner reflected on this theme, when he wrote, "Despair, destruction and death are the ancient enemies, and yet we are always so helplessly drawn to them as if we are more than half in love with them. Even our noblest impulses and purest dreams get all tangled up with them, as in Vietnam where, in the name of human dignity and freedom, the bombs fell on the just and the unjust and we recoiled from the horror of it...We seem doomed to seek our own doom, and the turbulent waters of chaos and nightmare are always threatening to burst forth and flood the earth." Like Frodo and Batman and Shane, how do I confront the evil out there, without first taking a hard look at the evil in here? How do I engage a monster without myself becoming a monster? Shane finally decides he can't risk it. He is what he is. And so all he can do is ride away alone.
Ah, the great stories are not afraid to confront the chaos and nightmare that live, not only in our world, but also in our hearts, chaos and nightmare which always threaten to overwhelm us and against which we struggle. And in those stories, the struggle always exacts a price. There is no return to blessed innocence. The struggle cannot leave one unchanged. But, you know, we already know this. It shouldn't surprise us, because we tell one more story, the story of another one who faced evil, indeed who took it on himself, and found himself alone, even forced to carry his own cross, one who could not go home again, and who most assuredly, was not left unscathed.
But, you see, this is a story with an unexpected twist. Because rather than riding off into the sunset or fleeing into the darkness of Gotham City, or just giving into the power of evel and death which is all around him, Jesus turns and invites us to join him in the struggle, to join him on a new way, a new path. In all of our weakness, in all of our ambivalence, in all of our hesitation, he invites us to join him in the struggle and to engage the powers in his way - the way of love and forgiveness, self-giving and peace, reconciliation, hope. Don't give up and don't give in, he says. In fact, dare to follow me. Will you be wounded along the way? No doubt. Will you be changed? I guarantee it. Will all of this ever look the same? Probably not. But once you have tasted this life, this life that is always giving itself away and yet somehow is always full, none of the rest of that stuff is going to matter much. And once you have glimpsed this kingdom where even as we engage and are wounded by the powers of evil, we encounter an even greater power that always mends and renews, once you glimpse the kingdom, you won't be interested in serving other kingdoms. Just follow me!
In Wendell Berry's novel, Jayber Crow, Jayber is a barber in Port William, Kentucky, who interacts with a variety of people as they come into his barbershop. He struggles to get along with one man, Troy Chatham, an aggressive agribusinessman whom Jayber is convinced is destroying the land. To make matters worse, Troy has married Mattie, the woman who Jayber had secretly loved for years. It's the late 1960's and divisions in America over civil rights and the Vietnam War have come to Port William. Troy is a fierce supporter of the war, and one evening in the barbershop, he starts talking about how much he hates war protesters: "They ought to round up every one of them sob's and put them right in front of the damned communists, and then whoever killed who, it would all be to the good."
Jayber narrates, "There was a little pause after that. Nobody in the barbershop wanted to try to top it. It was hard to do, but I quit cutting hair and looked at Troy, and I said, 'Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you.'
"Troy jerked his head up, widened his eyes at me, 'Where did you get that crap?
"I said, 'Jesus Christ.'
"And Troy said, 'Oh.'
Says Jayber, "It would have been a great moment in the history of Christianity, except, except that I did not love Troy."
Loving Troy, whoever he or she may be in your life, loving your enemy, overcoming evil with good, giving your life to find life...not the accepted path, not the easy path, and as the presidential race is sadly proving, not the preferred path. And in a world full of dark shadows, both the world without and the world within, it can be a path that is hard and long and often hard to find. But it's his path, his way of engaging the powers, and he invites us to join him. And you know, for me, as time goes by and the world's pain only seems to deepen, the intuitions of my own heart tell me this is an invitation I can trust. And finally one I must accept.