Paul Walker, “Truth and Siren Songs”

Paul Walker      Christ Church      11/21/21     John 18      “Truth and Siren Songs”

     There is a “Jesus is the Truth” sign across the road from our driveway. I’m sure you’ve seen these signs. I’m not a fan of signs, especially that one. Presumably, it is meant to be apologetic and evangelical in nature. But, really, what are the chances of an unbeliever driving by, reading the sign, and crying out, “Oh! Jesus is the truth. Now I get it!”

     It’s like the church sign I passed last week that said in big, bold letters: “OBEY GOD!” It even had an exclamation mark! I could be wrong, but the likelihood of someone deciding to obey God because they have been yelled at by a church sign seems slim to none. Sort of like French speaking people in Paris being able to understand Americans when they speak English more loudly.

     Here’s the thing, though. Jesus is the Truth. I’m a believer and I believe it. He says so Himself. “I am the way and the truth and the life,” He says. And the scripture tells us that

“We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.” And, “the law was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ.” And in today’s gospel reading, Jesus says “For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.”

     If I hammer you with any more verses I’m going to start sounding like the sign. What does it mean to belong to the truth and listen to Christ’s voice? Let’s get at this in the via negativa fashion. Jesus says that his Kingdom is not of this world. What does the world peddle as truth? Peddle is probably the wrong word because it’s too weak. The lies of the world are aggressive and deadly. 

     In the Homer’s Odyssey, Ulysses orders his men to strap him to the mast when they sail past the Sirens. The Sirens Song is so bewitching that it renders a person incapable of rational thought. Ulysses put wax in his men’s ears so they would hear the song and jump into the sea. Under no circumstances were the men to release Ulysses, no matter what he said or did. 

     In a William Etty painting called The Sirens and Ulysses, the 19th century English artist portrays the 3 Sirens and alluring and naked young women on a beach. Ulysses is strapped to the mast, muscles bulging, fighting with all his might to swim to the temptresses. On the beach are corpses of men in various states of decay.

     Back to The Odyssey. When Ulysses sailed past the Sirens, singing their enchanting song, he was driven insane and struggled with all his might to break free. His men, however, kept their promise and refused to release them. In the end, Ulysses and his crewed sailed in safety passed the Sirens song.

     This is such a powerful illustration because of its truth. We are utterly vulnerable to the lies of this world. In fact, the bible calls the devil the “father of lies.” Like Ulysses, we cannot resist them on our own. And the consequences of those lies are often dire.

     The lies of the devil/world are legion, but I’ll give you three that seem to be embedded in our culture. To make them easy to remember, they all begin with “P”. The first is perfectionism. Perfectionism is the feeling/demand/pressure to do everything well. Perfectionism is being so darn hard on yourself. Perfectionism is not allowing yourself to make mistakes. 

     In an excellent This American Life podcast called “My Bad”, listeners were asked to send in their most embarrassing moments. Of course, the episode was hilarious, but the host’s summary was poignant.  

     She noticed that a large majority of people were still deeply ashamed of their embarrassing moment, some nearly crippled by it. Her conclusion – we think we are not allowed to make mistakes in life. We expect to skate through life with a perfect record. Ultimately, perfectionism is not really believing that the Gospel of Grace can really apply to you. And that is a terrible lie.

     The second lie is progressivism. I don’t mean political progressivism, but the lie that you should always be improving, getting better and better as you get older. Some versions of Christianity mistakenly call this “sanctification.”

     In contrast to the lie of progressivism, here is some real truth from director Kenneth Branagh, who burst on the scene at 28 years old with Henry V. He’s 60 now and has been to the school of hard knocks. A New York Time’s reported asked, “Have you solved anything now?” 

     Branagh answered, “No. But I may have discovered, for me at least, there is nothing to solve. That Beckett phrase of fail, fail again, fail better is maybe one to bear in mind. But who pretends that life is one slowly ascending curve of human development? Most of the time you have to smash into something: death, the broken relationship, the horrible career moment. Then you think, Well, what matters to me? What do I enjoy? Or even just, I’m still here.”

     Ultimately, progressivism is not really believing the Gospel of Grace can really apply to you. And that is a terrible lie.

     Our third lie is Pelagianism. Pelagianism is a late 4th century heresy named after a monk name Pelagius. He believed that we just have to apply more will power in order to get better. Although his beliefs were deemed heretical in 420 AD, his teachings are alive and well, especially in those first two P’s. 

     He believed that we need to step up and do our part in order for God to respond and do His part. And that is the ace hidden up the lying devil’s sleeve, causing us beloved humans all kinds of misery. Ultimately, Pelagianism is not really believing that the Gospel of Grace can really apply to you. 

     “Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.” This is what Jesus says. I sometimes wish I had a mast to strap myself to and a crew to guard me as we sail on this ship of fools. This church is built to be an upside- down ship; in here, in our liturgy and music and prayers and scripture and preached word, we hear what is true. We hear what leads not to death, but life.

     We don’t have a mast to be strapped to, but we have something better. Jesus was strapped to a mast in the shape of a cross in our place. And nothing could tempt him to come down until He accomplished everything on our behalf. There is nothing left to do, no perfection left to achieve, no treadmill of progressivism to get on, now power of will to produce. He has done it all, every bit of it.  And it’s all true.

     And what that truth means is this – the Gospel of Grace really, truly, applies to you. Amen.