a rebirth of the imagination

Recently there have been a lot of interviews with folks involved with new film based on the life of Charles Darwin, Creation. It is a film adaptation of the biographical novel, Annie's Box, by Randal Keynes, Darwin's great-great grandson. Annie is the name of Charles and Emma Darwin's daughter who died at the age of 10. Keynes, the film adaptation of his book , and many Darwin scholars agree that the tragic death of Annie to chronic illnesses was a turning point for Charles Darwin in his relationship to the Christian faith. Always very dubious of Christian doctrine, Darwin seemed to decisively step away after losing their daughter. As I listened to Randal Keynes talk about this last week on NPR my first response was that is probably exactly what I would have done; I might have had that empathetic thought before becoming a father - not sure - but now as a father I think my empathy for his response is more profound. I was thinking about all of this as I was preparing for our homily this past week which dealt with the powerful metaphor of new birth.

In 1 Peter, Peter talks about our relationship with God in this way: "By his great mercy he has given us a new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead". Joel Green in his commentary on 1 Peter suggests that we think of new birth as a conversion of the imagination: "life events do not come with self-contained and immediately obvious interpretations, we conceptualize them in terms of imaginative structures we take to be true, normal and good...". In other words and put a bit differently, we tend to look at our lives and the world according to the story of the world we take to be true, normal and good. Some may say they do not subscribe to any narrative which could offer insight into the course of history, the future, or our individual lives. That certainly may be the case looking at it from one point of view, but is it not also the case that we all make decisions about what to do based on what we think in the moment is the right thing to do? Do we not also look for meaningful perspectives by which to evaluate major events in our lives? Many of those hearing Peter's words proclaimed in worship had just suffered a profound identity crisis (see previous homily recap). They had converted to the Christian faith from their pagan world and had been promptly ostracized by Roman society. Roman society had no place for Christians and ostracizing would eventually lead to out-right persecution. It is within this context that Peter tells his people the true story of what God is doing in the world. God's story of the world is grounded in an ancient promise to a band of nomads: the promise that God would always be their God and that they would always be his people. In the making of this promise to Abraham God also purposed that through his relationship with Israel he would bring salvation to the world. This salvation is pictured in the prophets as forgiveness of sins, redemption, the making of all things new, the conquest and eradication of evil, and the bringing forth of shalom, God's new peace for this fallen world. In short hand fashion Peter tells us that this story has come to a climax in the life, death and (especially) the resurrection of Jesus Christ. This story of what God is doing in the world speaks directly to the question of life's meaning, purpose and direction for those in Peter's original audience and for us. Jesus brings God's purposes to fruition in the world in a way that the powers that be in the world refuse to see as good news. Strength, grace, mercy, and victory, are brought forth through the suffering of Jesus: not a story we like to call our own. And when we think of the world according to limits of human reason and our fatigued imaginations we don't want to see God reveal himself in this way either. Yet this is God's way of talking about hope and what he is doing to bring redemption to us and our world: hope comes to us by the promise of resurrection and resurrection comes to us through suffering.

For those who lost everything to become Christians, for those of us who suffer from the thorns and thistles of this fallen world, for those who suffer profound loss (e.g. Darwin's story of loss above), the gospel confronts all other stories of the world which would deny hope or offer hope falsely. The radical and paradoxical power of the gospel story is not simply that God brings hope in spite of suffering but that he does it through suffering. This is the story that tells us the truth about our lives and the life of this world. May God grant us a revivification of our imaginations that we would live in the light of this truth.

1. Though this is not right at the heart of our homily from this week I think it is an important question so I am putting it out there for your consideration: do you regard empathy as an important attribute and one that reflects the heart of God as shown in the gospel? If not, why not? If you do, do you think very often about becoming more empathetic or asking God to make you more empathetic? Do you think becoming more empathetic could help you tell God's story more authentically to those who do not yet accept it their story?

2. How would you tell God's story of what he is doing in the world to someone who had just lost a child or loved one. Imagine that they had asked you to talk to them about where you get your hope from? How, in your own words, would you answer them: presuming that they do not yet accept God's story of the gospel?

3. Does coming to see our trials in this world in light of Jesus' story mean we must be able to say what specifically we have "learned" from our experience of suffering? What are we supposed to "learn" from suffering?

4. What are some stories we are often tempted to believe in our socio-cultural setting that are not the gospel and try cheaply to take the place of the gospel story in our imaginations?