Sunday, May 15th: "Acting is Easier"

Watch the sermon here

The First United Presbyterian Church of Loveland

“Acting is Easier”

Rev. Amy Morgan

May 15, 2022

Hebrews 2:14-18 

Since, therefore, the children share flesh and blood, he himself likewise shared the same things, so that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil,

 15 and free those who all their lives were held in slavery by the fear of death.

 16 For it is clear that he did not come to help angels, but the descendants of Abraham.

 17 Therefore he had to become like his brothers and sisters in every respect, so that he might be a merciful and faithful high priest in the service of God, to make a sacrifice of atonement for the sins of the people.

 18 Because he himself was tested by what he suffered, he is able to help those who are being tested.

Dustin Hoffman hadn’t slept for days. He was filming the moving “Marathon Man,” in which he portrayed a character named Thomas "Babe" Levy, a graduate student who became entwined in an elaborate spy plot.  Hoffman deprived himself of sleep to try to embed himself more deeply in the character’s experience. But when Hoffman arrived on set one day, he was in such a state of disarray that fellow cast member Laurence Olivier reportedly asked him, "Why not try acting? It's much easier."

While acting in the Olivier sense – crafting the external qualities of a character - might seem easier, actors who ascribe to what is known as “The Method,” believe they have to go deeper.  “The Method” is an acting technique that teaches actors to access their personal emotional life and draw on their actual experiences to portray a character.  It assumes that we cannot accurately portray an emotion we have not actually felt.  

To prepare for his role as a concert pianist and Holocaust victim, actor Adrian Brody practiced the piano for four hours a day. To further immerse himself in the role, Brody sold his car and apartment, stopped using phones and moved to Europe with only two bags and a keyboard. The 6'5" actor eventually dropped down to a weight of 130 pounds.  He explained his method, saying, “There is an emptiness that comes with really starving that I hadn't experienced... I couldn't have acted that without knowing it. I've experienced loss, I've experienced sadness in my life, but I didn't know the desperation that comes with hunger.”

In a way, the writer of Hebrews believes God is like a method actor.  In the great cosmic theatre, God desires to be in intimate relationship with humans.  In order to accomplish this, God became fully immersed in humanity – sharing our flesh and blood, knowing suffering and pain, becoming like us in every respect.  Gregory of Nazianzus, a fourth-century monk, asserted, "That which was not assumed is not healed.”  Like a method actor, Christ had to experience the fullness of humanity to accurately portray the role of the Son of Man, the Savior of humankind.  

Extreme method actors may starve themselves, gain weight, spend months in character off-screen, live in mental hospitals and refuse to walk or see to get as close as possible to the experience of the character they are playing.  But what they cannot finally do is rewrite their DNA or their actual life experience.  The transformation of method acting can go a long way, but there is a limit beyond which it cannot take us.  At the end of the day, Dustin Hoffman is still Dustin Hoffman and Adrian Brody is still Adrian Brody. 

God, on the other hand, is not subject to these limitations.

In the first few centuries of Christianity, a major debate arose around the limits of Christ’s incarnation.

Some theologians argued that the Logos, the Word of God spoken of in the beginning of John’s gospel, was a kind of divine wisdom that inhabited the human Jesus.  I like to think of this as body-snatchers Christology.

Others believed that Christ’s flesh was not really human flesh.  Jesus looked human, but he was really God looking and acting like a human.  He did a great job of making us think he was human from the outside, but ultimately, he was completely divine.  We might call this Lawrence Olivier Christology.  

These positions were meant to protect the divinity of Christ, to keep God from becoming co-mingled with humanity.  God was understood to be almighty, unchanging, and immortal.  So these early theologians believed that if Jesus were “fully human” and “fully God,” as the Nicene Creed says, it would open the door to believing that God was able to be hurt, to change, even to die.  And these were not acceptable theological propositions.  And so they sought out ways to separate the divine and human natures of Jesus.  It was fine for God to be a method actor, to go through the motions and experiences of being human, so long as God’s nature did not actually change.

Other theologians, like Gregory of Nazianzus, were more concerned with maintaining the oneness of God’s nature.  This school of thought believed that to separate the Christ or the Logos from Jesus, to divide the human and divine natures, was akin to polytheism. So they asserted that Jesus was of one nature, both human and divine, without separation of the two natures and undivided from God.  In Jesus, God was able to remain God and take on full humanity at the same time.  

The debate between these competing views of Christ was heated and at times violent, with bishops writing nasty letters, accusations of heresy flying back and forth, and occasional fist-fights breaking out.  We might wish for such WWE-style theologians today.  

What was at stake for them, in addition to the peripheral political jockeying, was the very nature of God.  Could God really become human?  Could God be more than a method actor?  Could God actually assume humanity in all its fullness and still be God?

Long before this particular debate broke out, Irenaeus of Lyon said: “Our Lord Jesus Christ…became what we are, that he might bring us to be even what he is himself.”  This changes the subject of the debate.  Instead of a concern about the nature of God, it attends to the work of God.  If God is not fully human, can God really redeem our humanity?  

God became what we are – flesh and blood, a descendant of Abraham, like us in every respect – so that we might become what God is – holy and whole, imperishable and incorruptible.  Within this theological argument lies the question of our relationship with God, our ability to be reconciled.  

Given that God is essentially unfathomable, I’m much more comfortable theologizing about God’s work in the world than about God’s nature.  I’d prefer to look at what God has done rather than argue about what God can do.  

And that is where the writer of Hebrews focuses his efforts as well.  In discussing Christ’s incarnation, life, death, and resurrection, he concentrates on the “so what?”   

Christ shared our human flesh and blood so that he might destroy the power of death and free all who are held in slavery by the fear of death.  

One of my Confirmation students years ago wondered if people only believe in God because they are afraid of death.  While I don’t think it builds a very strong faith to have fear as your foundation, this is one aspect of the hope we have in Jesus Christ.  We might still fear death, not having a clear picture of what happens next.  But we don’t have to be enslaved to that fear.  

Slavery to the fear of death means that we will do whatever it takes to stay alive.  No matter what moral or ethical sacrifices must be made, personal preservation is the ultimate goal of life.  There are plenty of people who live this way, who live in that slavery to the fear of death.  

But as Christians, we have been freed from that slavery.  We might have fears and doubts that remain, but we can seek out a higher good, we can give our lives for others because we know that the power of death has been destroyed.  God fully experienced the terror and finality of a human death so that God could prove to us that it no longer holds power over us.  

The writer of Hebrews says that Christ became like us in every respect so that he might make a sacrifice of atonement.  I’m not going to get into different theories of atonement here, but essentially this means that Christ has made it possible for humans to be in relationship with God, for God and humanity to be united.  There is, therefore, as the apostle Paul says, nothing that will separate us from the love of God in Jesus Christ.    

Finally, the writer of Hebrews says that Christ was tested by what he suffered so that he is able to help those who are being tested.  The philosopher Aristotle believed that the secret to moving the passions in others is to be moved oneself.  We can be moved by God because God was moved by us.  God was subject to the same trials and temptations that every human experiences.  So we know that in the midst of our struggles our God is there.  

In the end, Lawrence Olivier was right.  Acting is easier.  It is easier to imagine a God who would remain invincible in the heavens.  It is easier for God to be God and humans to be human.  

But God is not interested in the easy way.  God desires the most effective way to redeem humanity.  God chose the hard way.  The way of the cross and the grave.  

God did this so that we might be free to live our lives for God and for others.  God did this so that we might have a way into the heart of God.  God did this so that we might be moved toward God.  God did this so that we might have strength and guidance in our struggles.  

If you or someone you know and love is struggling today, I pray you might be comforted by this knowledge and by Christ’s presence. But I also hope you will reach out to this community, this Body of Christ, the Heart of Christ in the Heart of Loveland. 

The month of May is Mental Health Awareness Month. Our witness as Christians in this time of epidemic levels of mental illness, especially among young people in our society, could not be more important. The Christian community has historically stigmatized mental illness, condemned it as unfaithfulness, and ignored those who were suffering. But we worship a God became like us in every way so that we might know in every form of suffering that God is with us. Our faith in Jesus Christ compels us to talk openly about mental illness, just as we would talk about any other kind of illness. It compels us to be with those who are suffering and to be agents of healing. It compels us to witness to the hope we have in Jesus Christ who came that we might have life, and have it abundantly. 

I am so grateful that several members of this community have been trained in suicide alertness, so that they might become aware of those who are suffering in our midst and connect them with healing resources. I’m grateful that I was able to receive training in suicide first-aid so that I could be a resource to those who are suffering. 

I share very openly that I regularly see a therapist, and I always will. Just like I see my general practitioner and my dentist and my eye doctor. I took medication for several years to help keep me mentally well, just like I’ve taken antibiotics when I’ve needed them for my physical wellness. Our mental health is part of our whole, human experience. That whole, human experience Christ embodied and Christ redeemed. And so it is something we should talk about and care about and pray about and practice attending to, just like our physical and spiritual health. 

Jesus assumed our full humanity so that we might be healed and whole, and so that we might become agents of his healing. Because Christ is with us in our sufferings, we can be with others who suffer. 

In the end, acting might be easier. But love is far more convincing. 

To God be all glory forever and ever.  Amen.