Now Thomas (also known as Didymus), one of the Twelve, was not with the disciples when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord!” But he said to them, “Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.” A week later his disciples were in the house again, and Thomas was with them. Though the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you!” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe.” Thomas said to him, “My Lord and my God!” Then Jesus told him, “Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” (John 20:24-29)
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“I have a story that will make you believe in God.” So said the elderly Piscine Molitor Patel (better known as “Pi”) to Mr. Abdirusamy in the introduction to the book. Keep that line in mind. “I have a story that will make you believe in God.”
Several weeks ago, when I came upon the idea of donating a sermon topic to the Silent Auction, allowing whoever made the highest bid to pick the topic for this Sunday, I was pretty sure that I knew what to expect. The subject would be something like abortion, or same sex marriage, or capital punishment, or euthanasia - something simple and uncontroversial, in other words. What I wasn’t expecting (but what I opened myself to) was being asked to preach about a piece of secular literature. It’s not as if I’ve never done it before. About 15 years ago, in my previous church, I actually preached a 6 part series on the Wizard of Oz. It included sermon titles like “Caught In A Cyclone,” “Flying Monkeys And Talking Trees,” and “Ding! Dong! The Witch Is Dead!” It was about how the challenges of life help us come to truly appreciate what we already have. Well, the request for today was not “The Wizard Of Oz.” It was to find a gospel message out of a more recent piece of secular literature: “Life Of Pi,” written in 2001 by Yann Martel. It’s a movie now. In fact, it’s been nominated for an Oscar for Best Picture of 2012. I haven’t seen the movie, but I have read the book. Some of you may be planning to see the movie or read the book, and so I proceed cautiously. I don’t want to give too much of the story away. I will say that’s it’s a very spiritual story in its own way.
Pi is a 15 year old boy in India, who becomes interested in religion. So interested, in fact, that he decides to take up the Hinduism of his native land - as well as Christianity and Islam, and he claims allegiance to all three. When challenged that he can’t be all three at the same time, he wonders, “why not?” But Pi does have an abiding faith in God, and I suppose that one could argue that all religion in one way or another represents the human desire to know God. All religion is a search for the divine. Pi’s search takes him in an unexpected direction. He ends up facing challenges and tragedies and sorrows and hardships that few people will ever face. And in the midst of it all, there’s the question of God. Where’s God in the midst of all this? How is God involved? Or, maybe, is God involved at all?
Life of Pi is an allegory, which can be both tremendously exciting and tremendously frustrating. Although the author has certain goals, the reality of an allegory is still that the story basically means whatever the person reading it decides that it means. Having read some reviews of the book I find myself chuckling a bit at what you might call the more conservative Christian response to it, which some of you may have heard. Conservative Christian commentators have generally panned the book for no reason other than that it’s not Christian and that it presents a faith view that isn’t Christian. Well, seriously - give me a break. Of course it isn’t a Christian book, and since it isn’t it also doesn’t attempt to explain or promote Christian faith. It’s an allegory. The author certainly has a point, but - as I said - the reality of allegory is that it can mean different things to different people. So it turns out that I have a lot of freedom today, and I’m going to take that freedom in a direction that probably no one would expect. The key to unwrapping the gospel according to Life of Pi doesn’t appear until the very end of the book. It’s in Part 3, which only takes up 33 of over 350 pages, that I personally found the message. Parts 1 and 2 are the story, but Part 3 is the message, and it tells us a lot about the state of the world and the place of faith within the world today.
Here’s where the rubber hits the road, you see. The owners of the ship that sunk come to Pi and ask him what happened, and he tells them his story - complete with a tiger and a hyena and an orangutan and a zebra and a carnivorous island. And they don’t believe him. And more than simply not believing him - they insist that he tell them a different story; one more believable to them. In other words, “cut out the nonsense.” Or, to offer a few words directly from the book,
“These things don’t exist.”
“Only because you’ve never seen them.”
“That’s right. We believe what we see.”
“So did Columbus. What do you do when you’re in the dark?”
And Jesus said, “blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” You see, for all the adventure and excitement of the story, the rubber hits the road in this novel (for me at least, and from a gospel perspective in my opinion) in the last 30 pages. This is where the sacred meets the secular. This is where the holy meets the profane. This is where the seen meets the unseen. This is where doubt meets faith. This is where the gospel meets the world. Every week when we gather (and I hope every day that we live) we do our best to celebrate the Christian story - up to and including every now and then singing “Tell Me The Stories Of Jesus,” as we did earlier. And on a regular basis we find ourselves confronted by those who - for one reason or another - are overwhelmed by the world around them and aren’t able to see anything that isn’t right in front of them, and that therefore can’t be proved. Pi’s question - “what do you do when you’re in the dark?” - is a good one, once you define what the darkness is, and maybe we have to define it by its opposite. The opposite of “dark” isn’t “bright,” the opposite of “dark” is “light.” Light isn’t knowledge, and light isn’t proof, and light isn’t fact. Light is how you make sense out of knowledge and proof and fact.
The story “Life of Pi” ends with two possibilities: a story that highlights human brutality; or a story that highlights human potential. The ship owners are so obsessed with human brutality that they can’t accept the possibility of human potential. Isn’t that like so much of the world? So obsessed with the bad and evil things that happen that even the possibility of a good God at the root of our existence is simply dismissed? The point of “Life of Pi” isn’t so much that it’s not Christian; it’s that it pays homage to the ability of humanity to perceive the presence of God in the midst of all the ugliness that so often happens around us and then - with God’s help - to rise above that ugliness, to persevere, to beat the odds and to keep going when every bit of knowledge that we have tells us that there’s really no hope.
You see, for us, this world is the lifeboat, and we’re on it and there’s no getting off. And all around us we can see the ugliness and brutality of humanity. Just turn on the news any night of the week and you’ll see more than enough human ugliness and human brutality. And some people get overwhelmed by it. They have little hope that it will get better; they just want to survive as long and as well as they can in the dreadful circumstances that surround them. But Life of Pi’s message is that you can get through, and more than that - that you can triumph. Pi’s story (the real one) highlights human potential and the ability we have to overcome the odds. The gospel tells us that there’s always hope, no matter what may be happening around us, and the human spirit always has the ability to rise up because the Holy Spirit dwells within us.
“I have a story that will make you believe in God.” So said the elderly Piscine Molitor Patel (better known as “Pi”) to Mr. Abdirusamy in the introduction to the book. I don’t believe that. No story can make you believe in God - not even the story of Jesus can do that. It can only open you to possibilities. It’s only the Holy Spirit who can fill you with faith and start your relationship with God. But the story of Jesus can inspire you and strengthen you and give you hope even in the midst of the most hopeless of situations. The world will sometimes say “tell us a different story. That one’s too unbelievable.” Bananas can’t float, said the ship owners. But bananas did float! The dead can’t be raised, says the world. But Jesus was raised! The world is full of signs and wonders and miracles that bear witness to the presence of God all around us.
Our story finds its culmination at the table, where we gather today. Some don’t like our story and its message, summed up by Charles Wesley as “amazing love, how can it be, that Thou, my God, shouldst die for me.” Some want that story changed. They raise all sorts of objections. Jesus wasn’t God. God can’t die. Eating the body and the blood? EEEEWWWW! But this IS our story: God in the flesh - crucified and risen for the world. We could make up a new one just to satisfy those who don’t like it; or we can stand firm on it. I choose to stand firm! Whether the world likes it or not!
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