The Second Sunday after Pentecost — Proper 4
When you’re a priest married to a pastor, a lot of your in jokes revolve around scripture quotes. For instance, when Bryon has a headache, he’ll say “this slight momentary affliction will soon pass.” And I know that he’s quoting the Bible, and specifically 2 Corinthians in the verses following the one we read today.
This passage in chapter 4 is rarely preached on because it’s linked with the important texts from Deuteronomy and Mark, which focus on the commandment to keep the Sabbath. In fact, when I brought this up to Bryon, he forgot that this lesson is part of today’s readings since he was digging into the Old Testament and Gospel lessons and thinking about the importance of Sabbath.
But this Epistle is what’s resonating for me this week. In particular, verse 7 where Paul states, “We have this treasure in clay jars, so that it may be made clear that this extraordinary power belongs to God and does not come from us.” Clay jars are modest. They are humble containers for basic substances. They are not alabaster or porcelain or polished stone, but formed of mud, shaped into simple vessels and fired in a kiln.
I remember passing by a pottery manufacturing company where there were hundreds of look-a-like pots lined up outside. There was nothing special about them. They were functional but not necessarily pretty. They were to be put to humble use. You wouldn’t store perfume or good wine in them. Plus they break fairly easily and after time, they form cracks and are no longer useful. These are not meant to last forever.
When the Apostle Paul likens himself and his fellow apostles to clay jars, he’s making a pretty profound association. He acknowledges that he is made of earth and to earth he shall return. He is modest with regards to his own qualifications, not counting himself too highly or boasting. He knows he’s not perfect, in fact, he is weak and vulnerable. It is from this verse that we get the more modern translation, “we are like cracked pots.”
Honestly, the longer I live, the more I’m aware of these cracks. Maybe you are too. There’s a lot of pressure on our frail, flawed beings. Paul mentions affliction, perplexity, persecution, grief and death. It seems like there’s plenty of that going around right now. It’s easy to be overwhelmed by the persecution experienced by people of color, LGBTQ+ folks, and those under attack in Ukraine, Gaza, Haiti and Sudan. It seems that humanity is being crushed by war, genocide, racism and hatred. There are cracks in democracy, the justice system, the police force and every human institution, including the church. Sometimes it feels like everything is breaking down and we don’t know how to mend it.
In our own bodies and the bodies of those we love and care for there are afflictions. COVID hasn’t stopped infecting and afflicting us. Various illnesses and diseases along with the dangers of pregnancy, accidents and violence can stop us in our tracks and make us aware of our vulnerabilities.
And if we’re honest, we’re perplexed. How come bad things keep happening to good people? Where is God? Why can’t we all just get along? Why don’t people think the way I do? How will we ever recover from the crises we are facing in our nation, world and planet? The more we consider these questions, the more we feel out of control, powerless and anxious. Things can seem pretty dark.
“And yet, out of darkness, light shines: the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God. And it is this light that has shone in our hearts, the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ. This is not of our own doing but is from the grace of God.” We cannot believe light into being, create light or control it. The glory of God is a gift poured into our lives to grant us faith, hope and love.
When we are cracked open, it is God’s light that will pour forth. When we get out of the way by not trying to be God but just to be our most authentic, vulnerable and true selves, then the light of Christ will show in our lives. This is so counterintuitive. We try to be strong, to be perfect, to fix everything and to overcome every challenge. Meanwhile there is a more glorious and beautiful light that can only illumine us when we allow ourselves to be weak.
As Paul writes later to the Corinthians, “[God] said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.’ So, I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me. Therefore I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecution, and calamities for the sake of Christ; for whenever I am weak, then I am strong.”
This is astonishing. So often we try to hide or cover up our weaknesses. It feels dangerous to admit our flaws and failings, to confess what we don’t know or can’t do. We even praise people for “having it all together,” rather than falling apart.
Some of you have heard of the Japanese art of Kintsugi which refers to the art of mending pottery. It literally means to “join with gold,” so that instead of covering up the cracks and flaws, they are highlighted by a precious substance, sometimes making the pot more valuable by revealing its cracks. Of course this has become a metaphor for embracing our own flaws and imperfections or even the healing we experience after trauma and grief. It can be beautiful to be a whole but cracked pot, mended by the precious love of God and the light of Christ which shines through our cracked places.
Some of the most beautiful people I know are those who have suffered greatly through loss and brokenness. Some are in recovery from addiction. Others are living with long-term illness and disability. Many struggle with depression, anxiety and mental illness. And there are those who have been cracked open by the pain of broken relationships and grief. “While we live, we are always being given up to death for Jesus’s sake, so that the life of Jesus may be made visible in our mortal flesh.”
When I was a new Christian in my 20’s most of the Christian music was far too sappy and boring for me, but one band did catch my attention, in part for their name, Jars of Clay. They mingled biblical imagery with real human vulnerability. They weren’t the happy, clappy Christians for whom all of life was bright and successful. Like the lyrics from their song, Flood, they admitted to being mired in the mud. But then they sang this chorus and I felt myself begin to hope that in spite of my weakness and failure, God has got me. God can still do good things, beautiful things through this cracked pot. In fact, God has chosen only to work through flawed and imperfect human beings, people like you and me.
I won’t sing it for you, you can always look it up on YouTube, but here’s the chorus that means so much to me:
Down pour on my soul
Splashing in the ocean
I’m losing control
Dark sky all around
Can’t feel my feet
Touching the ground
But if I can’t swim after 40 days
And my mind is crushed
By the crashing waves
Lift me up so high
That I cannot fall
Lift me up
Lift me up when I’m falling
Lift me up I’m weak and I’m dying
Lift me up I need you to hold me
Lift me up and keep me from drowning again
