American Gods

You gotta believe in something. Why not believe in me?

Propers: The Second Sunday after Epiphany, A.D. 2020 A

Homily:

Grace, mercy and peace to you from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

“Behold the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!”

That should sound familiar. Not only is it the proclamation of John the Baptist following the Baptism of Our Lord, but it is also the words that we sing together—every single Sunday that we celebrate Communion—holding high the Body and Blood of Christ, boldly proclaiming, “Lamb of God, You take away the sin of the world! Have mercy on us!”

Now, I think it safe to say that that word “sin” has a lot of connotations, a lot of baggage. Use it around others, especially the unchurched, and it can come across as archaic. Sin, in popular imagination, has to do with a list of old-fashioned taboos that we used to not be allowed to do in a less liberated, less libertine time. But I promise you that sin is very much alive and well, and not only in the pages of dusty books or upon the lips of crusty old preachers.

In the Greek, the word for sin is hamartia, which literally means to miss the mark, to fall short, to err—in other words, to fail to be good enough. And that’s what sin is, really. It is not enough: not being enough, not doing enough, not having enough. Sin is failure, deep within our bones. And our society understands failure, oh, all too well.

You see there’s this myth that we are becoming less religious. And that simply isn’t true. Globally atheists and those unaffiliated with any given religious tradition are actually shrinking as a proportion of the population. Christianity is growing, as are other faiths. But even here in the West, in America, we are not less religious. We’re less organized, that’s for sure. We don’t voluntarily associate, let alone join churches, the way we used to—back in the day when all you had to do to be a card-carrying Christian was be vocally anti-Communist.

But that doesn’t mean we’re less religious. A surprising percentage of self-described atheists still claim to believe in God, which is admittedly rather bizarre. And all sorts of folks who denounce faith as irrational still read horoscopes and look for ghosts and talk about the benevolent will of the universe, which is even stranger. Even so, religion is more than all this, more than just organizations or superstitions.

Religion is the story we tell to justify our lives. Religion is whatever we do, whatever we believe, to make ourselves feel good enough, righteous enough—indeed, just plain enough. How can we ultimately know peace? How can we finally be enough: enough for ourselves, enough for our loved ones, enough for our gods? That’s religion. And it is everywhere in American society.

What all is it that we do, as a people, as Americans, to be righteous, to be enough? Well, first of all, we’re busy. We’re so busy. And we’re so proud of being busy. Parul Sehgal wrote that “the most purely, proudly American genre of writing might be the to-do list.” If we’re busy, if we’re moving, if we’re frazzled—if we’re keeping up with the Joneses, if we’re winning the Rat Race—maybe then we’ll be enough. Maybe then we’ll be justified. Maybe then we’ll be righteous, not just failures.

The cardinal sin of America then is leisure. Who has time just to rest, to think, to read, to pray? We’re all too busy pulling ourselves up by the bootstraps! We’re all too busy trying to prove to ourselves, and to our parents, and to our neighbors, and to our children, that we might just be enough. Because we’re busy!

But it doesn’t end there. That’s just where it begins. In our quest to avoid secular sin, our quest to be enough, we look to romance. We have to find that one perfect partner who will complete us, who will make us enough, who will be our soulmate. If we just pick the right one—The One—then we’ll be happily ever after. Then we’ll ride off into the sunset. Then we’ll finally be made whole. So choose wisely.

We all know it doesn’t work that way, right? We all know that you can’t marry someone to fill that hole inside of you, to patch up the parts of you that are missing. That’s not what love is about. Indeed, I’m pretty sure that’s why Hollywood starlets seem to swap spouses every six months or so, like trying on new shoes. Romance can’t blot out our sins. Romance can’t make us be enough.

Well then maybe parenting will, right? Maybe having kids, being the perfect dad or the have-it-all mom, will make us good enough, righteous enough, justified enough. Look how perfect my family is, everybody! Look how effortless it all is! Have I made it? Are you proud of me now? Just ignore the sleepless nights and the wet beds and the house that looks like a bomb has gone off. And definitely ignore the crushing disappointment when we expect our kids to shoulder the existential weight of all our hopes and dreams and self-justifications.

Maybe technology will do it? Technology is the great savior, the bleeding edge. Every day, in every way, things are getting better and better! Get the latest, the greatest, the slickest, the smartest. Get just a little more and then it’ll be enough, right? Oh, or how about work? Yeah, that’s the ticket. My career will make me happy. My career will define me as a person, so that my distant father will finally be pleased with how I turned out, so that the old flame I never got over will be jealous of my success. No? That doesn’t do it either?

Okay then, food. Yes, food. Eat right. Keto diet. South Beach diet. Paleo diet? Pescatarian, vegetarian—“I’m a Level Five Vegan. I won’t eat anything that casts a shadow!” Does that make me righteous? Does that make me enough? Or how about my vacations? Or my hobbies? Or my workout routine? Or the shows I watch! Check out these selfies. Follow on Instagram. Like and share.

Wait, I’ve got it—politics! Yes, politics! Have the right opinions. Pick the stronger tribe. Feel so damned justified that your opponents don’t just disagree with you but are actually horrible, immoral, America-hating fifth columnists who have no place in our society! God, doesn’t it feel good to be righteous amongst all these sinners?

Or maybe it’s even going to church. Maybe it’s wearing your Sunday best. Maybe it’s volunteering for everything on the congregational calendar. Maybe it’s making sure that you look Christian, sound Christian, buy all the Christian accessories to wear your faith on your sleeve—or on your bumper sticker—and feel good about being the frozen chosen, the righteous remnant, the few, the proud, the kitschy religious.

These are your gods, America. This is your religion. So how’s it working? Do you feel good enough yet? Do you feel justified? Have you taken away your sin?

Now don’t get me wrong. Getting stuff done, falling in love, having kids; new technologies, meaningful work, eating right, exercising, staying in touch; taking time off, and, yes, voting in elections and joining a community of faith—these are all good things. These are all true things, gifts that we are given to cherish, to share, to enjoy. But they cannot be our gods. They cannot take away our sin. They cannot make us be enough. They simply are not built to bear that load. Nothing in this world can.

But thanks be to God, One from beyond this world, beyond this vale of tears, has come down to us, as one of us, to serve as our Passover Lamb: the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world; whose Blood marks us as God’s own; who forgives us all our wrongs and heals all our wounds and says, “You are enough!

“I love you. I claim you. I die for you. And as surely as I rise triumphant from that tomb, with death and hell and sin defeated, you too shall rise to glorious new life. Not because you earned it. Not because you were busy or healthy or political or churchy. But because you are my own. And I will go all the way to hell and back to bring you home in Me. And there is nothing you can do to stop Me.”

This, O sinners, is the promise of grace, which outlives every sin, every false idol.

You are enough, because God loves you. Always has, always will. And nothing in Heaven or in hell, in this or all possible worlds, can ever change that, can ever steal that, can ever snatch you out from those loving and crucified hands. Only God can save you. And only God has.

“Behold the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.”

Deal with it, America.

In the Name of the Father and of the +Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

This homily draws inspiration from Seculosity.