We can tell that the spiritual season of Lent is fast approaching, because the lectionary readings are already starting to lean in that direction. Today's passage from 1st Corinthians (9:24-27) captures one of Lent's central themes, and so I thought it would be worth our while this morning to take a closer look at this Corinthians text, as a way of preparing our hearts and minds for the coming of this new season:

Do you not know that in a race the runners all compete, but only one receives the prize?

Run in such a way that you may win it.

Athletes exercise self-discipline in all things; they do it to receive a perishable wreath, but we an imperishable one.

So I do not run aimlessly, nor do I box as though beating the air;

but I allow my body to bruised and brought into servitude, so that after proclaiming to others, I myself should not be disqualified.

If we were to look in any of the classical texts on the spiritual life that was written before the 20th century (whether Protestant or Catholic, Anglican or Orthodox), we would likely find a prominent chapter with the scary title “mortification of the flesh,” and in it we would find today's text from Corinthians, as a primary source of the doctrine. We don't hear much about the mortification of the flesh any more, except in Hollywood movies, that depict historical distortions of the doctrine, in which persons would inflict acts of physical abuse on themselves.

And, actually, it is not hard to see how this text might easily be misinterpreted if the reader does not realize that, in this entire passage, Paul is not talking about a physical process. He is using a gross, physical analogy to say something significant about a psychological and spiritual process.

The Isthmian games, took place near Corinth. They were the forerunner to the Olympics. And to Greeks, like the Corinthians, these games were very significant & all-consuming... they were a passion, not just entertainment. And so Paul decides to use these particular images of the disciplined runner, the boxer, and the process of athletic training of the body as an analogy of what he really wants to talk about – which is the spiritual development of the human soul.

So, if its properly understood, not as some kind of physical abuse, but as an aspect of our spiritual development, what does traditional Lenten theme of “mortification of the flesh” actually refer to? I think if we expressed it in more contemporary language we could say that it has a great deal to do with becoming more honest with ourselves about our extraordinary vulnerability as human beings.

Think back to the stories of Paul's conversion, on the road to Damascus, back when his name was still “Saul” (Acts 7:52-8:2; 9:1-30; 11:25-26; 21:37-22:21; 1Cor 15:8-10.) Saul is the perfect example of a life that is (1) centered around its own image – around his own ego, and (2) defended like a mighty fortress against discovering the real truth about himself.... the truth that he was actually a weak little man who had become what, in our day, we would call a right wing serial killer (or, at the very least, an accomplice)! In truth, Saul was serving no one but himself. He was his own God. But he had so twisted events in his mind that was able to see himself as God's great avenger. What a nightmare!

Thankfully, the story doesn't end there. Saul receives a mysterious gift..., the de-centering, or dethroning, of his ego,... when he is enabled to see a vision of Jesus on the road to Damascus, a vision which knocks him off of his high horse, and wakes him up to the fact that far from being a servant of God, he is, in truth, an enemy – a persecutor of God's way and God's children.

Ouch! That must have really bruised the ego of this man Saul, this Roman citizen, Pharisee of Pharisees, so terribly proud of his religious status and accomplishments. Because... that was all Saul had. That was his life's center, what he lived for. But, suddenly, he is enabled to see the truth that his own will is running in this direction (full of greed and hatred), but God's will is running in the opposite direction (full of generosity and self-giving love.) And his ego is mortally wounded.... The source of his self-esteem is revealed to be a total sham.. He loses his inner center and becomes confused and disoriented. That inner barricade of defenses against the truth came crumbling down. It's mortifying.

But, at the very same time, it's beautiful... because God is also awakening his heart and mind to a new path, and graciously inviting him to enter it. It is an honest path, that will enable him to become the person he was created to be, a person whose strength lies in his awareness of his absolute dependence on God.

Paul still clearly has his “issues.” In terms of the conversion of his character, he didn't go from vicious murderer in one moment to venerable saint in the next (even though he might have phrased it that way on his resume).

But he had begun the process of recovery, which, according to him, we never finish in this life, but we can keep moving forward, day by day (Phil 3:4-16), if we train spiritually, like good athletes train physically – (1) with very clear goals; (2) with helpful training processes that enable us to actually move forward in relation to those goals; and (3) with the self-discipline that we require to actually engage on a regular basis in those helpful training processes. If such a program could cure a right wing serial killer, it must surely be potent enough for those of us with only garden variety neuroses, addictions, and other such ego-centricities.

What is the goal of spiritual development? We know from other passages in Paul's writings that for him it involved a passage from what he called “life in the flesh” to “life in the Spirit. “Life in the flesh” (sarx) referred to a spiritual condition in which a person has a false center; a condition in which the person's own image of himself or herself – the ego – becomes the very center of that person's life. In contrast, “life in the Spirit,” for Paul refers to a spiritual condition in which a person's life is centered on the divine image of God, which Paul understands to be the Living Christ. So the goal of the spiritual life, in a nutshell, becomes: “Where ego was, let Christ be.” At the very center.

What are the spiritual training processes, that enable Christ, rather than the ego, to be at the center of our lives? There is the ministry of the Word, like we are engaging in this very moment; the ministry of the Sacraments, which we will be engaging in very shortly; the ministry of pastorally caring relationships with others, in which we both give and receive the real caring presence of Christ. In each of these areas, we are provided with real moments of that bittersweet opportunity when an ego-centered aspect of our lives can be crucified with Christ, and we can be raised from the dead to a new life, centered in the reality of God (Rom 6:6; 8:13; Gal 5:24; Col 3:5.) There are also special trainings that draw us into this kind of interior transformation. I encourage you to read through Archie's article in today's Banner on helpful new ways of thinking about practices like fasting and prayer.

As far as the self-discipline that engaging in such training requires, where does that come from? You may remember the film Chariots of Fire, the fact-based story of two athletes in the 1924 Olympics. At the end of the film, the winner of the race, Eric Liddel, preaches a little one minute homily to his congregation. (Some think I should learn from his example...)  I will close with a quote from that homily. He says, I quote:

Where does the power come from, to see the race to its end? From within.

Jesus said, "Behold, the Kingdom of God is within you.

If with all your hearts you truly seek me, you shall ever surely find me."

Amen.

Rishi Sativihari

February 12, 2012, Epiphany 6B

Church of St. John The Evangelist

London, Ontario