Difference between revisions of "Sermon for February 11th, 2018"

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2 corinthians 4:15-18

15 Yes, everything is for your sake, so that grace, as it extends to more and more people, may increase thanksgiving, to the glory of God. 16 So we do not lose heart. Even though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day. 17 For this slight momentary affliction is preparing us for an eternal weight of glory beyond all measure, 18 because we look not at what can be seen but at what cannot be seen; for what can be seen is temporary, but what cannot be seen is eternal.

Faith & Film VI: The Last Jedi

• Film Clip #1 - Trailer

Three Minute Film Synopsis

Two years ago, I preached on the Star Wars film "The Force Awakens" and I told myself at the time that I probably wouldn't preach on another Star Wars film for a long time. So why did I change my mind? Quite simply, it's this: More people saw "Star Wars: The Last Jedi" than any other film in 2017. In just under three months, it has already become the 13th most watched film of all time, and that number will only continue to climb. If you haven't seen this movie, you are in the minority.

A big part of why I do this series every year is not because of any merit the films may have in themselves (although this one does have quite a bit of merit!) but because the films we pay money to go see in droves each year tell us a lot about ourselves--what we're interested in, what we're afraid of, what we hope and dream and think. And then when you throw in a popular film franchise like Star Wars, with a four decade long history, you really have a chance to see how we as a culture are changing, growing, evolving through the years.

On the surface, "Star Wars: The Last Jedi" is just another familiar Star Wars film with a very familiar plot line: It begins with some rebel fighters (the resistance) in space on the run from a militaristic empire (the First Order) with a tyrannical leader (Supreme Leader Snoke) and his evil henchman (Kylo Ren). One of the rebels (in this case, the young girl Rey) is dispatched to a distant part of the galaxy to find a reclusive Jedi (Luke Skywalker) who can save the day, or at least train her to become the next Jedi and the next great light of hope.

There are great battle scenes, great chase scenes, great plot twists, and just when everything seems on the verge of utter disaster and defeat is imminent for the heroes, they manage to pull out a few more surprises and escape from the bad guys to fight another day...more precisely on December 20, 2019 when the story continues with Star Wars Episode IX.

What I'm going to focus on for the rest of the sermon, though, is how if you look just below the surface, this Star Wars film was actually quite revolutionary, intentionally breaking with 40 years of tradition and sending a 20th century story in a very new direction--one that makes a lot more sense for a 21st century audience.

Up to this point, I haven't given away any spoilers, but I'm about to, so if you're one of the last three people in our country who hasn't seen this movie yet, consider yourself warned.

Where Can Hope Be Found?

But I'm actually going to start a long time ago in a different country far, far away: Ancient Israel, about halfway through the first century. Jesus of Nazareth, who inspired many Jews of his day with the hope that he was the long awaited Messiah, the one who would restore balance to the force--I mean, who would restore Israel to its former glory--had been crucified by Rome. His few remaining followers were scattered and on the run, persecuted by the Roman Empire. There were rumors that God had raised Jesus from the dead, and that he would soon come back to save his people, but it had been twenty years since his departure...and people were beginning to despair.

It was to these people that the Apostle Paul wrote the words of today's scripture passage: Do not lose heart in this momentary affliction. Don't look at what can be seen, but instead at what cannot be seen. Paul's words signaled a shift in early Christian thinking away from the tangible, the temporal (i.e. God as a physically present messiah with earthly power to change political realities) to the intangible, the spiritual, the personal (i.e. God as Holy Spirit living within each of us, transforming our hearts and minds).

Back to Star Wars. Throughout this film, the question of where the characters should place their hope is raised over and over again. And we know what the answer is supposed to be--you put your hope in the savior, the lone hero fighting against the odds. The opening sequence of the film shows the brave pilot Poe Dameron facing down the entire Imperial Starfleet in his tiny X-Wing Fighter. Luke Skywalker, the famous (but now reclusive) Jedi is referred to by one of the characters as the "spark of hope that will light the fire that will burn down the First Order (the bad guys)." And the young heroine Rey surrenders herself to her nemesis, Kylo Ren, with the steadfast the hope that she can save him, redeem him through the power of her love, just like Luke Skywalker saved and redeemed Darth Vader in the original series.

And yet, as quickly as these hope-giving heroes are established, the film completely dismantles them. Poe Dameron is demoted and repeatedly chastised for his recklessness and failure to be a team player. Luke Skywalker squarely rejects and even undermines the hope that is placed in him and the entire Jedi order. And Rey fails in her attempt to redeem Kylo Ren, her efforts only helping him to become more powerful and resolute in his evil.

Where then is hope to be found? Just like Paul's teachings in the early Christian church, this film signals a massive shift away from lone heroes and earthly saviors as a source of hope, to a more mature understanding that hope is a spiritual force that resides in each one of us. Toward the climax of the film, Poe Dameron proclaims that "WE are the spark of hope that will light the fire that will burn down the First Order." And the closing image of the film is not of one of our heroes, but of a lowly stable boy in a distant part of the galaxy who looks up to the stars while using the force to summon his broomstick into his hand like a lightsaber. Hope can come from anywhere, anyone.

Reformed and Always Reforming

Fast forward another millennia and a half, to the 16th century as Europe was just coming out of the "dark ages" that followed the fall of the Roman Empire, and into the light of the artistic, cultural and theological movements known as the Renaissance and Reformation. This is the movement that gave birth to the Presbyterian Church, among others. Reformers like John Calvin and Martin Luther took on the task of bringing the church into the modern era. To do this, they had to throw a lot of things out--traditions and structures that had been loved and revered by countless people for centuries. In the process, they made a lot of people angry.

Rian Johnson was given a similar impossible task when he was asked to write and direct Star Wars: The Last Jedi. Take this universe, with all its beloved characters and fans and unwritten rules, tear it down to its foundations and rebuild it. Otherwise you risk telling the same story over and over again to people who will care less and less about it.

There's a great scene early in the film--the first time we see Luke Skywalker--Rey has journeyed across the galaxy to find him, and she climbs a great hill where is standing looking out over the ocean. He turns to face her, and she hands him his old lightsaber. The message is clear: Help us. Come save us. You're our only hope. Luke looks at the lightsaber, takes it in his hand...and then casually tosses it over his shoulder down the side of the mountain. This is highly symbolic, and Rian Johnson has gone on record acknowledging that it represents a tossing aside of things once sacred and unquestionable.

Later in the film, Luke (with a little help from the ghost of his teacher, the Jedi Master Yoda) burns down a sacred Jedi shrine containing the sacred texts of their religion. When I saw this, I was reminded of an old saying from Zen Buddhism: If you see the Buddha on the road, kill the Buddha. The idea behind that saying is that if you so revere and lift up the teacher that you take your eyes off the teachings (the road), then the teacher becomes a distraction and should be eliminated.

At one point in the film, Kylo Ren voices this when he tells Rey to "Let the past die. Kill it if you have to. It's the only way to become what you were meant to be."

The 16th century reformers taught something similar--that if any of their changes or reforms ever became so enshrined or set in stone that people followed ritualistically or superstitiously, then it was time to change or reform all over again. This gave rise to one of our mottoes: We are reformed, and always being reformed according to the word of God.

That last part of our motto, "according to the Word of God" is important to note. We don't just randomly or completely kill everything that is part of the past: We kill or let die specific things--sacred rituals, sacred places, and even sacred texts--when those things become so important to us that we lose sight of what they were designed to accomplish in the first place.

The Priesthood of All Believers: Everyone's a Jedi Now