Theological Truth: To be “in Christ” is to live with an entirely new way of seeing and being; a way that loves and forgives as God in Christ loves and forgive.
In the name of God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
Transplanted with a New Heart
The telephone request took by my surprise. A former parishioner from Baton Rouge asked if I would come and pray with her before her surgery. The fact that she was hospitalized prior to surgery, and that it had to be done in New Orleans, suggested the severity of her condition. But I didn’t know until I stood at her bedside that she was there for a heart transplant.
Given the gravity of the situation, I marveled at her calm acceptance and peaceful demeanor. I stammered with wonder and asked,
“So…so…tomorrow morning…they’re…they’re going to remove your heart…the one right there keeping you alive…and replace it with another one?”
Not my greatest pastoral moment, but the most amazing display of trusting faithfulness I’ve ever witnessed.
I’m happy to say that her surgery was successful, and she continues to live a new life with this transplanted heart. I’ve wondered what it must have taken for her to get to the point of serene acceptance. My best guess is that realized two indisputable truths:
Her current heart couldn’t keep her alive any longer.
A different heart could give her new life.
We’ve been talking a lot about repentance this Lent…every Lent really. Psalm 51 — a Lenten mainstay — says, “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me.” If we’re honest—as individuals, as a church, as a nation, as global citizens — isn’t it obvious that we’re faced with the same truths as my former parishioner?
Our current hearts aren’t working very well…they can’t keep us alive.
We need a heart transplant….an identity transplant.
In some recovery groups, this unmistakable point of realization is called “rock bottom.” But whether we are forced to this undeniable need for a new heart — a different identity, by addiction, divorce, disease, or death — facing our powerlessness and surrendering to the Power of Love is what paradoxically makes us both free and powerful. The way of the cross is indeed the way of life.
Dominick Crossan and Marcus Borg suggest that’s what happened to Paul on the road to Damascus. His blinding encounter with the risen Christ was like getting a heart transplant.
Paul uses the words “in Christ” to explain what his life is like after this transplant. They write:
“Paul’s transformation involved an ‘identity transplant’— his old identity was replaced by a new identity ‘in Christ’…his spirit — the old Paul — had been replaced by the Spirit of Christ.”
Paul’s new, beating heart was the life-giving, death-defying heart of Christ. It changed Paul’s identity; his way of seeing and being in the world. No wonder he writes:
“If anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation; everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new!”
So, what does this new identity “in Christ” look like and how do we get on the transplant list? The Parable of the Dysfunctional Family….I mean, the Prodigal Son…gives us some insight.
Henri Nouwen, in his book reflecting on Rembrandt’s painting of the story notices that we tend to spend a lot of time identifying with either the prodigal younger son or the resentful older brother. We also, of course, marvel at the wonderful and troubling unconditional love of the Father. But Nouwen suggests Jesus is calling us to accept a new identity; to move from not only seeing ourselves as sons and daughters, but also to being the loving parent in the world. Here’s how he explains this reconciling, identity transplant-giving work of Christ:
“Thus, for [our] sake, Jesus becomes the younger son as well as the elder son in order to show [us] how to become the Father. Through him [we] can become…true [sons and daughters] again” –- and don’t miss this part—”and as true [sons and daughters, we] can finally grow to become compassionate as our heavenly Father is [compassionate].”
— (The Return of the Prodigal Son, p 127).
In order for my parishioner to receive her new heart, someone had to give up theirs. In order for us to have new hearts, Jesus gave up his.
This sacred heart of Jesus is more than a substitution though. Too often that creates more guilt than redemption. By offering his heart, Jesus illuminates the path, demonstrates the truth, illustrates that the life of sacrificial love is our true identity and our eternal home. All the chasing and worrying and posturing and comparing and competing that we do for power and control, for love and acceptance, will not, does not, and cannot give us life.
The heart of God alone does that.
And this heart…this authentic identity…is freely offered. All we have to do is admit our need for it, humbly accept it, and lovingly, gratefully share it. In the words of St. Paul:
“All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ, and has given us the ministry of reconciliation.” (2 Corinthians 5:18)
Thinking back in that hospital room, the serenity of the person awaiting her heart transplant was the peace of reconciliation. She had been reconciled with the truth of her condition, of her mortality, of her non-negotiable need for a saving power beyond herself. She was no longer the rebellious younger brother seeking distraction and pleasure. She was no longer the resentful older brother complaining about what she deserved or didn’t deserve. She was the daughter of a loving, liberating, life-giving God. She was the recipient of not only a new heart, but a new identity: Reconciled and reconciling. Forgiven and forgiving. Compassionate as our heavenly Father is compassionate.
This spiritual heart transplant is offered to us, too.
But here’s the difficult truth: spiritual heart transplants don’t usually happen as instantly or dramatically as it did for St. Paul.
But they happen…gradually and faithfully: certainly at Baptism and in the Eucharist, in confession and surrender to this Love that always welcomes us home.
It happens not because we are good, or when we are good, or if we are good, but because of the endless mercy, compassion, and goodness of God.
Each time we return to this “home” realizing that nothing else provides true life; whenever we remain in this “home”— joyfully participating in life with Divine Compassion, we are claiming this new identity: neither the rebellious brother, nor the resentful one, but reconciled sons and daughters, growing into compassionate parents offering to the world the same Divine reconciliation that has saved us.
This is the work of our new, clean, transplanted hearts. This is our life “in Christ.” Ambassadors for Christ. Messengers of reconciliation.
“Because,” as Nouwen concludes, “what greater joy can there be…than to stretch out [our] tired arms and let [our] hands rest in a blessing on the shoulders of [our] homecoming children?” (p. 133).
— The Rev. William “A.J.” Heine, Rector, Trinity Episcopal Church of Staunton
Readings this week: Joshua 5:9-12; Psalm 32; 2 Corinthians 5:16-21; Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32
Fourth Sunday in Lent, Year B
March 27, 2022
