Proper 9

Some questions for you. Not important questions, but questions nonetheless:

Why do snooze buttons only give you nine more minutes of sleep?

Why can’t you tickle yourself?

Those big clocks in the parlor — why do we call them “grandfather clocks?”

It’s unlikely that these questions have crossed your mind, but they’ve crossed someone’s mind. The editors at Mental_Floss, a trivia magazine, have included them in an article called “The 25 most important questions in the history of the universe.”

Tongue firmly planted in cheek.

These questions and more — like “Why does Hawaii have Interstate highways”? — are adult versions of the riddles we used to ask as kids.

What did the sock say to the foot? You’re putting me on.

What do whales like to chew? Blubber gum.

What animal keeps the best time? A watchdog.

Questions intrigue us, even if they’re trivial or humorous in a grade-school sort of way. And then sometimes we get hit with questions that stop us in our tracks, conundrums that confuse us and paradoxes that perplex us. Like the dilemma the apostle Paul poses in today’s Epistle: “I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate” (7:15). He repeats himself in verse 19: “For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do.”

Here’s a mystery that matters, a riddle that rocks: Why do we do what we don’t want to do, and — the corollary question — why don’t we do the good that we want to do?

The answer to Paul’s question has to begin with sin. In Paul’s experience, sin is more than a bad deed, evil action or wrong decision.

It’s a power that pervades his inner self, and dwells deep within him like a V-chip programming his every move. It’s the worm at the core of the apple. It’s sin with a capital S. The action (sin), “What I do,” is the outcome of the state of Sin within him. It’s the poisoned fruit of the tree.

Paul has bad DNA; he’s part of a corrupt gene pool. Augustine calls it “original sin,” and John Calvin and others call it “total depravity.” It’s a problem that corrupts Paul’s relationship with God and neighbor. This predisposition causes him to do the things he hates, it prevents him from doing what is right, and it causes him to do evil. “Now if I do what I do not want,” he concludes, “it is no longer I that do it, but sin that dwells in me” (v. 20).

We can certainly relate to Paul’s inner struggle. Sin is what causes us to gossip with our friends when we know we shouldn’t, to cheat on school assignments against our better judgment, to waste time on the job when we don’t want to, to mislead our customers for a buck, to lust after our coworkers, to abuse drugs and alcohol, to snap at friends and loved ones, to covet wealth and material possessions, to turn a blind eye to the needs of others — all this and more, when we know full well what course of action we should take — but don’t.

The ancient Greek philosopher, Socrates, who argued that the unexamined life is not worth living, proposed that no one chooses evil or chooses to act in ignorance. We pursue what is good, but fail to achieve it because of ignorance, or we lack the knowledge as to how to obtain what is good, or how to do what is right.

Aristotle, the intellectual grandchild of Socrates, and pupil of Plato, scoffed at the notion. Simple observation of human behavior, he said, tells us that an individual might know what is best, right and true, yet still do what’s bad, wrong and false. Moreover, if evil is never done deliberately or voluntarily, then evil is an involuntary act and no one can properly be held responsible for the evil that is done.

Our own life and times show us that Socrates got it wrong, and that Aristotle and the apostle Paul got it right. So with Paul, we agree: “I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do” (7:19).

Even worse, our best intentions are often thwarted by our sinfulness. Sin would seem to play a corrupting role in every deed we do. We do a good deed, and hope we’ll be rewarded for it. We work hard, and end up becoming workaholics. We make a sacrifice for someone else, and feel selfish pride about our selfless act.

The evidence of Sin is everywhere: in the schoolroom and the boardroom, the home and the office, in business and politics, in communities and nations.

Sin: It’s all over. Not to say that everything we do is completely sinful, but that every dimension of our life — personal, community, national, global — is tainted by Sin.

So where does this leave us? What — or who — will get us out of this mess? Paul puts it this way: “Who will rescue me from this body of death?” (7:24). “Thanks be to God,” he continues, “through Jesus Christ our Lord!” (7:25). The only antidote to total depravity is total grace, a grace that comes to us through our faith in Jesus Christ.

Paul sees this as a rescue.

This perspective is typical of those who see themselves as caught in an event, situation or crisis that is now beyond their control.

Rescue. That’s what Paul — and what we — are looking for.

Good intentions won’t rescue us. More education, more money, more discipline, more time, more second chances won’t rescue us.

Jesus Christ is our Rescuer. Costly for him, because he died in the “rescue” process. But that’s what makes it grace.

That’s why Paul’s startling discovery as he ponders the riddle before him is that through Jesus Christ the rescue has already taken place.

It’s our business now to live as though it were true.

That is to say, there’s no point staying in the coal mine when the rescue has been accomplished. No point staying at the bottom of a well. No point in clinging to a tree in the middle of a raging river.

No point clinging to an old resentment. No point refusing to forgive. No point cheating, lusting, fighting, carping, harping, stealing, lying — any of these things. It’s not who we are!

Does this mean we become perfect? Not quite. We’re forgiven, not flawless. And Paul knows that there is always a war going on between the flesh and the spirit.

But the riddle is solved. Why do I do the bad I don’t want to do, and don’t do the good I do want to do? Because of the power of Sin that is activated when I “serve” the “flesh.”

But when I remember who I am, and when I serve “the law of the mind,” then I know what it means to be “rescued” and to live the way God wants me to.

A Cherokee Elder was teaching his grandson about life. He said to him, “A fight is going on inside me … it is a terrible fight between two wolves.

“One wolf represents fear, anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride and superiority.

“The other stands for joy, peace, love, hope, sharing, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, friendship, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith.

“This same fight is going on inside you, and inside every other person, too.”

They thought about it for a minute and then the boy asked his grandfather, “Which wolf will win?”

The old man simply replied, “The one you feed.”

Which wolf will you feed?