Sermon; St. Matthew’s, Chandler
“For
our struggle is not against enemies of blood and flesh, but against the rulers,
against the authorities, against the cosmic powers of this present darkness,
against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places.”
I have always
been interested in why people do the things they do. I was blessed that I was
able to focus on that passion in my academic work. In my undergraduate program, I focused on
history and sociology to prepare for teaching social studies. During that time,
my studies took a dark turn. I focused
on 20th century history with an emphasis in genocide and religious
violence. An intense class on holy war within
Judaism, Christianity, and Islam set the trajectory that took me from teaching
high school to further study of religion and conflict at ASU, where I studied
violence, torture, religion, sexuality, and politics—all of which are topics one
is supposed to avoid in polite conversation at dinner parties.
As I was studying
these grisly topics, and continuing today, I’m haunted by this question: To what extent can we name the violence of
the last century and this century as something beyond the depravity of
humankind? What do we make of the Holocaust?
Rwanda? Armenia? This country’s genocide
of (and later attempts to wipe out the cultures of) indigenous peoples? Is it
enough to chalk up the body count of the last 120 years to mechanized warfare,
arms races, totalitarian governments, and effective propaganda campaigns by
regimes bent on eliminating others? We
can fairly accurately describe the mechanisms of war, of economic oppression,
of the social systems that hold others as deserving of apathy or death, but is
there something else? Is there something
beyond the materialistic phenomenon we can study that accounts for the
depravity humankind visits upon others?
Paul would say
there is something else afoot, something more than the material world we see. And he does so in language that sounds odd to
modern ears. Paul speaks in a number of his
letters of the "principalities and powers." By this Paul means the spiritual
and worldly forces that exist in opposition to God. We hear about these
powers in Ephesians today.
Contrary to the
modern division between the spiritual and political that holds that the
political is no place for the spiritual, Paul is:[1]
concerned
with spiritual realities precisely in their relationship to political
realities. Ephesians 6:12 contrasts the “enemies of blood and flesh” with the
true enemies, using a five-fold repetition of the word “against”:
For
our struggle is not against enemies of blood and flesh
but against the
rulersagainst the authorities
against the cosmic powers
against the spiritual forces of evil in heavenly places
While
the first use of “against” describes those whom the struggle is not against, the remaining four
uses describe the actual enemies against whom Christians are called to
struggle. These four references move from the earthly realm to the heavenly,
connecting the political realm to the spiritual. The terms “rulers” (archas) and
“authorities” (exousias)
are common terms in the New Testament and usually refer to human rulers and the
authority they wield.[2] The third term, “cosmic
powers” (kosmokratoras),
is understood by most scholars as referring to a supernatural power, moving us
from the [material] political realm into the spiritual. Finally, “spiritual
forces” (pneumatika)
refer explicitly to nonhuman forces, which are said to be not on earth but “in
the heavenly places” (en
tois epouraviois).
Taken
together, these four terms describe “enemies” that span both the earthly and
heavenly realms—transcendent, spiritual realities with earthly, political
manifestations. The verse recognizes that earthly power relations are animated
by spiritual realities that transcend any specific “flesh and blood” person or
ruler.
More can be said about the powers and principalities,
which stand for a dominion opposed to God.
The powers and principalities traffic in practices and ideas that keep
us from seeing each other as equally beloved and redeemable by God. The powers would prefer to derail the ministry
of reconciliation Christians are called to witness to.[3] Remember that a few weeks ago we read in
Ephesians that Christ created in himself one new humanity, reconciling all to
God in one body.[4] In contrast, the powers and principalities
keep telling us our differences are final and irreconcilable; attempting to cut
us off from God and others. Further, for the principalities and powers,
there is active hostility to the equal loving regard we are offered by God.[5] Colonialism, sexism, racism, and other forms
of social stigma all fall within the control of principalities and powers that
devalue the beloved of God while simultaneously telling others that they have a
divine right to maintain an oppressive social order "for the good of us
all." Control and power is sanctified in lieu of holiness,
forbearance, love, justice, and grace. The principalities and powers
resort to threat, harm, shame, and death. You can know who you are
dealing with by the fruits they produce.
And it is important to call the demons by their names.
The powers and principalities are not as transcendent nor
as powerful as God, and yet they are more powerful than we humans on our own. The promise of order and control that the
powers and principalities offer is seductive.
This seductive quality of the powers and principalities explains their
continued presence in our world. We find
ourselves caught by the powers and principalities in fallen institutions
greater than the sum of our personal failings.[6] And these powers are strong enough to corrupt
even the holy things of God to their own use. For instance, the very passage we are talking
about this morning has the blood-stained dishonor of being one of the passages
used to justify the slaughter of millions over the centuries through holy war
In which Christians traded the spiritual armor and sword of God for that of leather and
steel.[7]
This is the reality that
Paul is speaking to: that behind the
forces of evil and degradation we see on earth, there are active spiritual
forces at work seeking to destroy and corrupt the creatures of God. To make such a case for spiritual evil in our
modern setting is difficult. And yet, it
is worth noting that regardless of the degree to which we claim human or
demonic agency in the problems of the world, it is evident that there are
forces and institutions and persons that profit from death, degradation,
alienation, and division. These are
powers that Christians have a duty to unmask, name, and engage.[8]
And there is good
news. Earlier in Ephesians, Paul writes
that the greatness and goodness of God is at work through and in Christ, who is
placed above the principalities and powers.[9]
The Church's role is one of proclaiming God's power—testifying to God's
coming reign to these spiritual forces.[10]
And the promise we inherit is the coming complete destruction of these
forces at the consummation of history.[11]
How do we live into this
good news? How do we face this
in-between time?
One way in which we practically live out our commitment
to unmasking and engaging the powers is by heeding the reminder that they exist
and that we are called to resist them.
At our baptism, and at our reaffirmation of the baptismal covenant, we
promise and pray that we will “renounce
Satan and all the spiritual forces of wickedness that rebel against God"
and ”renounce the evil powers of this world which corrupt and destroy the
creatures of God."[12]
These renunciations speak of throwing off the world's claims about the
proper place of others and seeking instead to discern the wild and radical
things God is choosing to do. It means de-centering the will to power we find within
ourselves in favor of God's will and mission for humanity. It may mean taking chances since resisting
the powers and principalities is not a popular option; hence Paul’s warning to
stand firm in truth and faith and righteousness.
But there is also a promise we share; a conviction Paul
held that we are also offered in sure and certain hope. Paul was convinced “that neither death, nor
life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor
powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be
able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”[13] This persistent love, stronger than the worst
that the world and its powers can attack us with, is a love worth clinging
to. It is also the basis for a gospel
worth proclaiming with boldness.
_________________
[1] The
following block of text is taken verbatim from Robert Williamson’s “The Politics of White Supremacy—Ephesians 6:10-20.” http://www.politicaltheology.com/blog/the-politics-of-white-supremacy/.
[2] See, for example, 1 Corinthians 15:24; Ephesians
1:21.
[3] 2 Cor 5:14-21
[4]
See Eph 2:11-22.
[5]
See Gal 3:28.
[6]
This current course of the world is what is meant by the terms institutional
sin, or structural sin.
[7]
As I was meditating on these verses from Paul’s
letter to the Ephesians, I couldn’t help but consider how these verses have
been used in Christian moral reasoning in relation to violence. In Christianity, there are three frameworks
for understanding the use of violence:
pacifism, the just war tradition, and holy war (which is more of a notion
than a clear framework). Both pacifism and the just war tradition name who is
or is not a legitimate target of violence.
Pacifism holds that no one is a legitimate target of violence, and this
was the prevailing opinion until the 300s AD.
Following Christianity’s conversion to the state religion of the Roman
Empire, the just war tradition began its development. A component of that moral reasoning was the
attempt to delineate between combatants and non-combatants. What makes holy war more of a notion than a
framework is also what makes it instructive across religious lines—and holy war
is different from pacifism or a concept of a just and limited war in that it
divides the world into good and evil, eliminates neutrality, raises the stakes
to a matter of ultimacy and immediacy, and prescribes no limits to the violence
that can be visited upon the enemy. What makes holy war so dangerous and bloody
is that the enemies made of flesh and blood are considered to be the earthly
warriors in the ultimate cosmic battle of Good vs. Evil. What happens on Earth is interpreted as a
mirror or an outworking of the battle in the heavens, and so the targets of
violence are to be given no quarter. In this thinking, there is no proper etiquette fit for those
deemed to be direct agents of Satan.
[8]
These actions echo Walter Wink’s trilogy of books about Engaging, naming, and
unmasking the powers and principalities.
[9] Eph 1:20-23
[10] Eph 3:7-12
[11] 1 Cor 15:24-28
[12]
BCP, 302.
[13]
Romans 8:38
