Wisdom in Weakness
Okay, so: I’m a huge Star Trek fan. Growing up in a very Fundamentalist environment, I wasn’t allowed to watch a ton of TV growing up. But my parents were (inexplicably) major Trekkies. So Star Trek—particularly The Next Generation—played an enormous role in my childhood development.
We had this big cabinet in the living room, packed full of VHS tapes. My mom had meticulously taped every single episode of the series and cut out the episode titles and descriptions from the TV guide so we knew which episodes were recorded on a given tape. The cassettes weren’t in any discernible order, but I was so invested in the world of the Enterprise and Starfleet and the Federation of Planets, that I could find any given episode almost as quickly as I could look up a Bible verse during “Sword Drills” at church. And naturally, my sister and I both had treasure troves of quotable quotes etched in our memories. My favorites were all from the stately Captain Jean-Luc Picard played by Sir Patrick Stewart.
Now, I’m not telling you this because I think science fiction from the 80s and 90s is particularly essential for grasping the core of our Christian faith. I lay this all out there so that it doesn’t sound completely absurd when I say that the first thing I thought of when reading today’s texts was a line from that same Captain Jean-Luc Picard in a Season 2 episode titled “Peak Performance.” (Third cassette from the bottom on the lower right shelf, in case you’re wondering.)
Don’t worry: I’ll spare you a synopsis of the episode, because again, Star Trek isn’t the Gospel. But in that episode, the captain looks at a discouraged crew member and says, “It is possible to commit no mistakes and still lose. That is not a weakness. That is life.” This sound bite from a fictional 24th-century captain resonates for me with the 1st-century declarations we heard today: from Jesus about the Temple being destroyed and rebuilt, and from Paul about the foolishness of the Cross. “It is possible to commit no mistakes and still lose. That is not a weakness. That is life.”
Over the past several weeks of our pilgrimage through Lent we’ve followed the theme of things falling apart—of the Gospel being bad news before it’s good news. And while I don’t think it’s intentional, this bit of wisdom from Captain Picard helps to illuminate the Paschal Mystery that we’re journeying towards in Lent. Because while Picard’s remark does contain a certain wisdom, it’s not quite the wisdom at the heart of our faith—the wisdom proclaimed in the Gospel of Jesus Christ. It leaves us wanting more—the “more” that Jesus offers.
Picard is astute in his assessment of life. Failure happens. Things fall apart. We lose. We die. Jesus and Paul certainly agree with that. But they have a longer perspective—an eternal perspective—that Jean-Luc Picard lacks. And they point us to the mystery of faith that teaches us that failure isn’t JUST a part of life to be stoically endured. No, if we listen for God’s voice speaking through Scripture today, we will hear an important amendment: “It is possible to commit no mistakes and still lose. That is weakness. And that is good news. Because that is life—true life.”
Of course, the fact that we lose—that things fall apart—is not news. It would be delusional to look at the anguish of the world—to look at our own reflection in the mirror—and say that evil and brokenness—what our tradition calls sin—isn’t real and present and active. We cannot hide from the fact that humans are foolish and fail; that we resist God’s will and rely on our willpower; that the agendas we pursue and the lives we build crumble so often into rubble and dust. But still, we tell ourselves that if we just work smarter, then we can keep things together and build the metaphorical temple of our dreams. If we just try harder, then we can keep ourselves secure and defend the world that we love. If we just do better, then we can purify ourselves, society, and the church, and achieve flourishing and holiness.
I don’t know about you—y’all may be a lot holier than me—but I have an astounding capacity to obstinately view my own willpower as the only plane on which God’s work of salvation plays out. It’s the mindset that led me as an alcoholic to play that bargaining game: “If I only drink wine… or if I take a month-long break, then that will solve my problem… or prove I don’t have one. I just have to try harder—try the right thing.” It’s a familiar game in whatever form it takes for us. And we may try valiantly! But as Picard observes, that doesn’t mean we won’t lose. In fact, we probably will lose the game of relying on our own effort. The metaphorical temple that we build on our own probably will get torn down. The security and defenses that we try to set up probably will prove to be too weak. The holiness and purity that we try to achieve probably will fall short of the mark.
Jean-Luc Picard would say that that isn’t weakness—that’s life—something we need to accept before picking ourselves back up and trying again. But that resignation to continuing on our own efforts isn’t the Paschal Mystery that animates our life as Christians. That isn’t the Good News that Paul and Jesus proclaim. They proclaim Christ crucified—a Gospel of that appears foolish and weak to the world. “You will fail,” they proclaim, “And that is a weakness. And that’s actually really good news, because that weakness is life.” Our weakness and foolishness—our inability, in and of ourselves, to help ourselves—the fact that despite our best efforts we will indeed lose—that weakness is the door to our salvation. Our weakness is where the mystery of faith becomes real: Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again.
Because, in the Crucifixion, Christ embraces our weakness. By all worldly measures, Jesus loses when the “temple” of his body is reduced to rubble on Good Friday. He quite literally makes no mistake—he doesn’t depart from even one of God’s laws—and yet he still loses. That is a kind of weakness. And it seems foolish for God to embrace that weakness with us. But as Paul so boldly declares, “God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God’s weakness is stronger than human strength.” And on the Cross, God reveals that weakness is not simply a feature of life to be accepted. God takes our weakness and makes it an offer of life for us to accept. God takes the Cross, in its foolishness and weakness, and makes it the door to wisdom and strength.
Our whole Lenten journey has been and will continue to be a pilgrimage path leading up to this door. Lent is hard because the world chafes against the fact that we can’t skip the rubble and jump straight to resurrection. Resurrection will be there, and we will rejoice. But we reach that rejoicing through the door of the Cross. And that’s hard. But the mystery of faith reminds us that it’s still good news. The pilgrimage of Lent is a path that strips everything away and reveals to us our weakness. So that when we come to the foot of the Cross we can see the Wisdom in God’s weakness and the Power in God’s foolishness. We will lose. That is weakness. And that is life… and good news. Because Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again.