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I don’t know about all of you, but this morning’s lectionary text from Ephesians is not one of my favorite passages. In fact, it’s one of those passages that upon first hearing, actually makes me cringe just a little bit. To begin with, the language can seem somewhat archaic to our modern ears with all its references to devils and cosmic forces of evil. It sort of harkens back to a time when people took for granted the existence of things like angels, demons, and devils, as well as the belief that the end times were near, and that all people needed to be prepared for a cosmic battle between the forces of good and evil. But for most people living in this postmodern age, all of this can sound somewhat superstitious. Most of us don’t think much about the end times, nor do we give much thought to the existence of literal devils or demons (even if we would concede, when pressed, that evil does exist in the world). And then as if all that weren’t enough to make us tune out then comes all the battlefield language— talk of swords and shields and flaming arrows. Language that for many of us conjures up of images of some of the less admirable moments of Christian history-- images of crusades and holy wars, times when Christians took up literal swords against their Jewish and Muslim neighbors. And quite frankly in this day and age— in an age of terrorism and war, in a culture where we worry about the violence our children see on TV and in the video games they play-- we may very well question the wisdom of Paul’s metaphor for our times. Given all of this, some preachers simply avoid this text when it comes up every three years in the lectionary-- choosing instead to preach on a kinder, gentler, safer passage-- one that doesn’t run the risk of losing the listener before the sermon even begins.
However, I think there is something to be said, for every now and then, wrestling with some of the more difficult passages in the Bible. Because here is the thing about God’s Word: while it may have been written for a particular group of people, in a particular time and place, it is also a living and dynamic word. And our God— as we like to proclaim in the UCC— is a still speaking God. And so I believe there is always something we can learn, even from the most difficult passages (perhaps especially from the most difficult passages) so long as we are willing to approach them with open minds and open hearts.
Often times I find it helps, in cases such as this, to start by laying down a little historical context. For instance, it’s important for us postmodern listeners to remember that when Paul first wrote these words, the early Christian community was struggling simply to survive. They lived amidst an oppressive Roman government that did not appreciate the radical and somewhat subversive nature of the early church. And it is in this context that Paul offers these words to the early church in Ephesus. In writing these words, Paul would have known that the sight of Roman soldiers patrolling the streets of Ephesus would have been a familiar sight to the Christians there, and that it was probably a sight that elicited a fearful reaction, given the persecution they faced. And so some scholars suggest that in choosing this metaphor of battle armor, this was Paul’s subtle way of subverting the power of the Roman government—his way of telling the Christians in Ephesus that while Rome might have military might and political power, followers of Christ have access to a power far deeper. And so originally, these words were never meant to be taken as a literal call to battle, but rather as words of comfort for a people living in difficult times. Paul was giving his followers the tools they needed to stand firm in their faith despite opposition and persecution all around them.
Perhaps it is in this contextual setting then, where we can begin to find new meaning in these words for today. Because while our struggles may not be the same as those of the early Christian church, we still have struggles. And so I would suggest that the two questions we need to ask ourselves as we seek God’s truth this morning are these:
Where do we see spiritual darkness operating in today’s world?
And how does this text offer us the tools we need to counter that darkness as people of light?
In regards to the first question— where do we see spiritual darkness in ourselves or the world around us— there are many answers we could give. For some of us, there is darkness within our very selves that we struggle with. Whether it’s addiction of some kind, or whether it’s the darkness of anxiety, fear, anger or depression, most of us know what it’s like to have darkness inside of us-- to struggle with the demon within— to use some of Paul’s language. And beyond our personal struggles, most of us would agree that there is spiritual darkness in the world as well. Darkness that, at times, threatens to crowd out the beauty and goodness in the world. Darkness that takes the form of poverty or disease, corporate greed, political corruption, racism, classism—or any other “ism” for that matter. The list could go on and on. Each one of us probably has something in particular that comes to mind. In the midst of all of this, it’s pretty clear that we too— just like the fledgling Christian church in Ephesus— need tools to help us stand firm in our faith. We too need something to hang onto so that we do not become overwhelmed with pessimism or cynicism that is so prevalent in the world around us.
I wish I had time to go through each individual piece of armor that Paul mentions, and talk about how each one can help us in this task, because there is so much there that could be said. But that would make for a very long sermon. So for now I have simply chosen three pieces of armor that seemed to me to be particularly relevant for us modern and postmodern believers— the belt of truth, the shoes of peace, and the shield of faith.
First, the belt of truth.
When it comes to this piece of armor, I can’t help but think of the particular cultural moment we are living through right now as a nation. We live in an age where information and misinformation is everywhere— on TV, on the radio, and on the internet. And admittedly it’s hard, sometimes, to know what’s true. It’s hard to distinguish between the facts, the half-truths, and the propaganda that’s floating around out there at the present moment. Just take a look at some of the political ads we’re starting to see as election season gets underway. Frankly, I’m thankful that we don’t live in a swing state so we aren’t completely bombarded with negative political ads, most of which, I fear, are full of half-truths and even downright lies. But it’s not just politics where this is the case. Every day we are presented with conflicting versions of what is true on a whole range of issues in a variety of situations. But perhaps in one way or another, this has always been the case, even before the age of cable news and the internet. And perhaps that’s why Paul lists the belt of truth as the very first item in his armory. As a reminder that before anything else, we must first be intentional about seeking after genuine truth.
One scholar suggests that the reason Paul chooses a belt to represent truth, rather than anything else, is because the Romans had to wear belts in order to avoid tripping on their traditional togas, and Paul wants to make sure the Christians in Ephesus do not stumble in their walk of faith-- that they are not led astray by the challenges they face. If we simply accept what is given to us without question, or to let others distract us with half-truths or propaganda, or even if we let our inner demons deceive us with some half-truth about ourselves, then we run the risk of stumbling down the wrong path. Paul is instructing us not to be lazy or half-hearted about our quest for truth, but to seek after it with every fiber of our being, to make that our first and foremost weapon in the struggle against the dark. For only then are we prepared to take the next step.
Which brings me to our next piece of armor-- the shoes of peace. It is certainly an odd contradiction Paul is presenting here. In the midst of all these tools of battle, he entreats his followers to seek peace. Perhaps that’s because he wants to highlight the fact that there is often a contradiction between the ways of the world and the ways of Christ. According to the ways of the world, after all, when someone strikes you, you strike back. When someone attacks your truth, you attack theirs. If you feel threatened by someone or something, you find a way to put them down. These are the ways of the world. But, Paul says, this is not the way of Christ. And if you want to walk the path Christ laid out for us— if you want to call yourself a Christian-- then you need to strap on the kind of sandals Jesus himself wore-- sandals of peace, forgiveness, and mercy. Perhaps the reason Paul includes this in his armor metaphor is because walking this path can often seem like a uphill battle. It can seem like the more difficult, more strenuous path. It strains our sense of credulity to think that non-violence, mercy, and gentleness can actually solve some of the larger problems threatening our world. To be sure, striking back and putting others down so that you come out on top often seems to work better. But I think Paul would say that’s taking the easy way out. Putting on the shoes of peace means we are preparing for a more difficult road, but ultimately it’s a road that Christ walks with us every step of the way.
Finally, we come to the shield of faith, which is perhaps the most important piece of armor in the collection. It is our faith which ultimately shields us from the darkness of the world. This doesn’t mean that we shield ourselves by turning a blind eye to what’s going on around us. It doesn’t mean we adopt a naïve optimism and refuse to see the world as it is. But it does mean that we don’t let the cynicism and brokenness around us overcome us. And I don’t know about all of you, but for me, this is a challenge. Watching the news—in particular these days following the election-- it is so easy for me to want to thrown my hands up and cry out “it’s all so broken-- nothing’s ever going to change!” And you know that might be the end of it-- if our shield of faith was meant to protect only ourselves. But here is where a closer look at Paul’s metaphor shines light onto just how wise he was. The shields used by Roman soldiers in 1st century Palestine were interlocking shields— meaning that two thirds of the shield protected the individual soldier, and one third of the shield would cover the soldier next to them. This is what made the Roman army at the time nearly invincible, because there was no gap in their protection. If we had to go it alone, we may very well lose faith. But Paul’s point here is that we are not meant to go it alone. Our shield of faith is ours, but it is strengthened in community-- when your faith interlocks with the person sitting next to you, and the person sitting next to them, and on and on until each one of us is lifted up in an invisible web of faith that binds all of us together and is ultimately strengthened by God. So that when one of us finds our faith weakened by whatever darkness we struggle against, we are upheld by the faith of others around us. And at other times, we may find we are the ones left keeping the faith for someone else during their difficult time.
So whatever the struggle may be that you feel most deeply in this present moment, whatever the darkness may be that threatens to overwhelm you, remember these three things: to fasten the belt of truth around your waist to prepare you for your journey, to put on the shoes of peace so that you are able to walk the path that Christ has set out for you with peace and grace, and know that you are protected, shielded, and forever held by the faith of this gathered community.
Amen, and let it be so.
