Wine Coolers? Really?

The Rev. Brad Sullivan
Lord of the Streets, Houston
August 18, 2024
Proper 15, B
Ephesians 5:15-20
Psalm 34:9-14
John 6:51-58

“Give thanks to God at all times,” Paul said. “Unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you,” Jesus said. I wonder if those two things might be related. It’s a good bet, since I brought it up, that I believe they are. 

For weeks we’ve been talking about Jesus as the bread of life, and I’ve been talking about ways in which Jesus is that bread of life and ways that we receive that bread of life. So, today we get to add “giving thanks to God at all times” to the ways that we receive Jesus as the bread of life.

So, of course, that means we can’t get sad, or if we do, we have to give thanks about the fact that we’re really sad and miserable. I hope it’s obvious that I’m joking. Giving thanks to God at all times is not just a rule that needs to be followed. Jesus as the bread of life is not just some rule to be followed. 

Jesus as the bread of life is a way of life. If we’re looking at eating the bread that is Jesus’ body as a rule to be followed, then we’ve got plenty of systems and commands within the various parts of the church for how exactly we’re supposed to follow that rule. 

We share the sacrament of communion, we get baptized, we make an adult profession of faith, and on and on. If we follow these rules about Jesus, then we have life within us, so some teachings within some parts of the church would go. We get eternal life. We get to go to Heaven when we die. All of these rules for how we receive Jesus as the bread of life are fine, I suppose, but a lot of them tend to miss the point. The rules would say, receive Jesus as the bread of life in this particular way, and then you get to go to Heaven. The point of Jesus as the bread of life, however, is that the life of Jesus, the eternal life of God is what we get to live now in this world, following Jesus as a way of life, not just as a rule to be followed. 

Following Jesus, living the eternal life of God here and now, we live the truth that there is more beyond this life, so we needn’t fear death, nor be overcome by grief. Receiving Jesus’ bread of life as the way of letting go of our anger and desires for vengeance, we can let our anger turn to sadness, and our sadness to acceptance, trusting in God’s vengeance. Even though there are plenty of people whom we feel definitely deserve vengeance, and yet are obviously fat and happy in this life, we can trust in God’s justice, God’s vengeance, even as we trust in God’s mercy. That life of trust and acceptance, and the resulting peace that comes is the eternal life that Jesus gives as the bread of life.

If we look more at this way of life that Jesus is, we heard Paul say in Ephesians chapter four, “Do not get drunk with wine, for that is debauchery.” Well, if we look at this simply as a rule, then if ever you get drunk with wine, then you’ve done wrong, and you must repent. “I’m never going to do that again,” you say the next morning. Then of course, you do get drunk on wine again, at some point, and it becomes this cycle, eventually figuring, “Eh, I’ll be forgiven; I don’t need to take that rule too seriously,” or we take the rule way too seriously and not only do we not drink, but we say all drinking wine is wrong and evil. 

Even further, if we look at not getting drunk off wine as a rule, well then we get to say, “Paul only mentioned wine, so getting drunk with beer and liquor is ok.” Wine coolers? They’re obviously not ok, but they don’t break the rule. Do we really have to make a rule for each type of alcohol? 

Then, we have other drugs that Paul didn’t mention. Do we have to make rules for each of them? Do we have to make individual rules about not getting high or stoned off weed, heroin, cocaine, crack? We’d have to keep making up rules forever, wouldn’t we, because even 20 years ago, Fentanyl wasn’t a thing, so, now we’ve got to make a new rule against that.

Hopefully, all of that is obviously ridiculous. The way of life Paul describes points to the problem not of one substance or one time of getting drunk. Paul telling us not to get drunk off wine addresses how we can use everything I just mentioned: drugs, alcohol, and so many other things. When we’re using these things to escape reality, to feel better regardless of the consequences, that’s when Paul is saying we’re having a problem. When we use alcohol, drugs, sex, money, whatever else to feel better and escape reality, and we lose control and do other harmful things, those are the problems Paul is talking about. Wanting to feel better, heedless of the cost and consequences.

Trying to escape reality, rather than living in reality, that’s the real problem. Becoming addicted to changing the way we feel, rather than working with those feelings and working with others in the world, that’s the real problem. 

Enjoying oneself with friends, while “getting drunk with wine,” as Paul said, but being safe, not driving, enjoy the evening, and yes, feeling a little more tired crummy in the morning than you otherwise would, I’m not sure that’s what Paul was talking about. Ok, you enjoyed time with friends; that’s a good thing.

When you start doing it every night? Doing it to numb your life? Doing it so you can make bad decisions and not really care? That’s where the “getting drunk off wine” becomes a problem. That’s where it becomes a way of life that brings death. 

So, “Do not get drunk with wine” is not just some rule to be followed, but a way of life in which we seek to deal with life and handle life with the help of others, not just numbing away our feelings to trying to feel good so we don’t ever have to feel. 

Part of life is pain and having to deal with that pain, and following Jesus as the bread of life helps us deal with that pain.  “Give thanks to God at all times,” Paul wrote. That’s part of how we deal with the pain of life, again, not as a rule, but as a way of life. 

Consider the way of gratitude. Following in this way, we work at finding things for which to be grateful, and then we give thanks. We practice living gratitude every day. That doesn’t mean we ignore the bad or push our sadness aside, saying “thank you,” to God just because we’re supposed to. Practicing gratitude means even in the midst of suffering, we look for something for which we can be legitimately grateful. Our sadness is still there, but there’s a little bit of hope too, a little bit of peace. 

Following the way of gratitude, we can choose, to some extent, what the world looks like. If we only focus on the negative, the problems, the complaints, then those things become our food.

If we practice gratitude, on the other hand, focusing on the good, giving thanks for blessings we see, then that becomes our food. Feeding off of gratitude, and the goodness in the world, and the blessings we see, that sounds like the bread of life which came down from Heaven. Feeding off that bread of life, we find Jesus is right there with us in our suffering, strengthening us, holding us, helping us join with others. We can practice gratitude, and let that be our food. Doing so, we can receive Jesus as the bread of life, and we can “be filled with the Spirit, as we sing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs among ourselves, singing and making melody to the Lord in our hearts, giving thanks to God the Father at all times and for everything in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.”

Rejoicing as Calm, Peace, and Striving for Justice

The Rev. Brad Sullivan
Lord of the Streets Episcopal Church
May 21, 2023
7 Easter, Year A
Acts 1:6-14
1 Peter 4:12-14; 5:6-11
John 17:1-11

 Rejoicing as Calm, Peace, and Striving for Justice

In the movie, “Flight,” Denzel Washington plays an airline pilot who made a miraculous landing in a crippled airplane that should have crashed, and he was able to save all but three people on board, and those three died because they took off their seat belts. The only problem was, he was drunk and high on coke while he was flying.

Throughout the movie, he’s heralded as a hero, which he certainly was, and there was an investigation into the flight, as there certainly should have been. So, as he’s hiding the fact that he was drunk and high during the flight, he spirals further and further into alcoholism. He fights the truth because in his mind, it doesn’t matter if he was drunk. He’d landed the plane. No one else could have done what he did. He was a hero, and he should have been lauded as a hero. At the same time, he is thoroughly miserable and pretty much seems to hate himself, his life, and most everyone in his life.

The investigation turns up missing vodka from the plane, which he had drunk, and his team of lawyers decide to say that one of the flight attendants who had died, had drunk the vodka. All Denzel has to do is lie, agree to that story, and he’ll be off scot-free, and exalted by everyone as a hero.

As he’s about to give this lie, he finally realizes that he can’t do it. He can’t lie about this flight attendant who had herself saved another passenger, buckling a kid into his seat, which is why she was out of her seat and died. He admits to being drunk and high while flying and ends up in prison over the whole thing. No more flying. No more career. No more being a hero in people’s eyes.

Rather than being miserable, however, he ends up sober, happy, glad that he finally admitted what had been going on. He says that for the first time in his life, even though he’s in prison, he’s finally free.

“Humble yourselves,” Peter wrote. “Humble yourselves therefore under the mighty hand of God, so that in due time he may exalt you.” Until the end of the movie, Denzel Washington’s character, was seen as a hero, lauded up high by everyone, but inside, he was down in the dirt low. He was miserable. He was angry. He was scared, and he resented and drove off everyone around him.

Then, he humbled himself by admitting the truth, and finally, he was exalted. He was in prison, but he was exalted, because he was finally joyous and free. He was also no longer alone. We see, while he’s in prison, pictures and letters from people who care about him, people whom he had driven, but who have now been able to reestablish their relationship with him. Even though he’s in prison, he’s finally exalted.

“Humble yourselves therefore under the mighty hand of God, so that in due time he may exalt you.”

Ok, so let’s look at what this passage obviously doesn’t mean. If you talk like crap about yourself, and if think like crap about yourself, then God will reward you by making you ruler of everything. That’s obviously not what this passage means. Being humble does not mean thinking badly of yourself, and being exalted by God does not mean becoming the best, most important person ever.

True humility means seeing ourselves as we truly are and accepting ourselves as we truly are. If we’re great at stuff, we can admit that. We don’t have to be jerks about it, but can admit that we’re good at things. Where we’re not good at things and probably never will be, we get to admit that too. We look deep within ourselves and admit our faults. We get to admit our triumphs. We get admit where we’ve hurt and harmed others. We get to look at ourselves with deep honesty. That’s humility.

Now another thing Peter writes about in his letter is not just when we hurt others, but when we are unjustly hurt by others. What does humility have to say about that?

Humbling ourselves when we are unjustly hurt by others can mean not accepting their hurt and denigration of us. Humbling ourselves, again, means accepting ourselves as we truly are, not as the person who hurt us sees us. Then, humility can be letting go of the resentment we have toward that person. “Cast all your anxieties upon [God], for he cares about you,” Peter writes. Letting go of anger and fear is an act of humility. Doing so gives God something to work with to help heal us. I’m angry, I’m fearful because this person is hurting me, Lord, and I can’t handle it all on my own. I need your help. As we seek humility, even when we’ve been harmed, we open ourselves up to God’s healing.

What about, however, when we’ve hurt others? Well, humility in that case is admitting the fact that we have hurt them, and then also looking at why we hurt them. Perhaps because they hurt us first, and they absolutely deserved whatever we did? Perhaps we hurt someone because we were scared or anxious? Again, when we look humbly into the depths of ourselves, at the truth within us, we give God something to work with to be able to exalt us.

So then, what does being exalted look like? I first talked about Denzel Washington’s movie character being exalted by being in prison but also, finally being joyous and free. I said that being exalted does not mean becoming the best, most important person ever. In this life, being exalted is not about being raised up above others. Being exalted is about being raised up out of our own misery and fear. Being exalted means being able to love who we are, warts and all. Being exalted means trusting that God cares about us, casting our anxieties upon God rather than lashing out at others because of our anxieties and self-soothing through destructive means.

Calm. Peace. Acceptance. That’s what being exalted by God looks like. Freedom from the bondage of hatred and resentment toward those who harm us unjustly. That’s what being exalted by God looks like. Even when our enemies are society at large or our governments, even when they are the ones who harm us unjustly, Peter writes for us to rejoice. That sounds odd.

“Rejoice insofar as you are sharing Christ's sufferings, so that you may also be glad and shout for joy when his glory is revealed.” Rejoicing doesn’t mean pretending to be happy and acting like nothing is wrong. Rejoicing can look like can look like calm, peace, acceptance, and letting go of hatred and resentment. Rejoicing can look like casting our anxieties upon God. Rejoicing can look like trusting that while in this life, all will not go as we want or deserve, there is a new life after death in which God will grant us the love, the delight, and the exaltation we deserve.

With rejoicing as calm, peace, acceptance, and freedom from hatred and resentment, we get to rejoice and still admit sorrow. Admitting the fact that we are still hurting and afraid is part of humility and being exalted. Rejoicing, exaltation, and humility don’t mean that we’re going to be a doormat. When being unjustly oppressed by others, rejoicing doesn’t mean that we say, “No, it’s fine. You can keep on oppressing me. I’m good.” That’s not rejoicing. Rejoicing means striving for justice. Rejoicing means joining with others to stand up to oppressors, but doing so with love rather than hatred.

Rejoicing doesn’t mean denying the hurt or pretending all is well when all is not well. Doing so is the opposite of humility: pretending, lying to ourselves and everyone else around us.

That’s what Denzel Washington’s character was doing in the movie, Flight. Humility is honesty with ourselves, honesty with others, and honesty with God. Exaltation is freedom from the bondage of hatred and fear, freedom from self-loathing, freedom from anxiety and misery.

Rejoicing, even amidst suffering, is calm, peace, acceptance, and freedom from hatred and resentment. Rejoicing is sometimes still mingled with sorrow, but rejoicing is trusting in God. Even though all will not be right in this life, all will not be as it should be in this life, we rejoice as all will be well. Whether in this life or the next, we rejoice as all will be well. We rejoice with the exaltation of calm, peace, acceptance, and freedom from hatred and resentment that is brought by humbling ourselves under the mighty hand of God and casting our anxieties upon him, for he cares about us.