What is a soul? Jesus asks us today: “What would
you give in exchange for your soul?”
What a question! What CAN you
give? What do you have that has anything
close to the domain or value of a soul?
And who exactly HAS your soul that you must bargain with? Can you gain your soul? Can you lose your soul? What does that look like?
John Chrysostom said
that a comprehended God is no God at all, and I find it funny that one of the
few times that Jesus is actually described as speaking plainly is the one time
when Peter takes him aside and scolds him.
“You can’t be speaking plainly, Jesus, what are people going to
think?” So Jesus gives Peter the
what-for and cranks out some more existential brainteasers to keep everyone
guessing.
And we’re still
guessing. How many of us take the time
to ponder exactly what it means to have a soul, or how we might lose or gain
such a thing? We like Jesus when he’s
telling us how many times to forgive or what to do with the poor, but the theological
Jesus is a wholly different animal, and we have a big dose of him today, and
he’s thrown down the gauntlet: “Anyone who wants to save his life will lose it;
but anyone who loses his life for my sake will save it. What gain, then, is it for anyone to win the
whole world and forfeit his soul? And
indeed what can anyone offer in exchange for his soul?”
At my house, there are
two plain white shelves on my kids’ bedroom wall that have been imbued with
deep meaning: they are the ‘special shelves’ that my kids keep all their
treasures on; one shelf apiece to store all the things that they count as their
own. Last week, a tiny red balloon –
which had once been the nose of a balloon-animal Rudolph – was laying sadly on
the table, cut to bits by a pair of scissors.
Soon enough, my little girl discovered the tragedy, and the tears
commenced; and oh, it was sad! So I went
to her, and called her brother in and made him apologize – which he zipped
through in a monotone as he tried to bolt out the door again. Me, being the good seminarian that I am and
understanding the important difference between remorse and repentance, I
decided that this situation called for something more from him, a little
acknowledgement that he understood the import and the effect of his
actions. “Since this was one of her
special toys,” I said, “I think you should let her borrow something from your
special shelf for a few days.”
So he gamely followed
me into the bedroom, and looked on while I looked for something I felt
adequately remunerated the calamity. As
I picked out a beloved toy, he said quickly “No! I like that one.” “That’s kind of the point, son… What would
you like to give her?” He thought for a
second, and then he said “How about that picture of Jesus that I don’t
like?” Does this kid know how to bargain
for his soul, or what?
What is a soul? The
Greek word Mark uses here – psyche – is
alternately translated as ‘soul’ and ‘life,’ depending on the context, and I
think it’s clear from our story that Jesus is talking about something a bit
more substantial than just breathing and walking around. A quick survey across religious traditions
for this question – “what is a soul?” – turns up a surprisingly consistent set
of ideas. Most of the great philosophers
across a variety of traditions tend to agree on a broad definition that our
souls are the parts of us that hold our thoughts and emotions and that generate
our wills, and that our souls are not the same thing as our bodies – yet
they reside there. Tertullian, from the
second century, is very quotable on the distinctly Christian view of souls: “It
is the soul which God addresses; it is the soul which God exhorts and counsels,
to turn the mind and intellect to God.
It is the soul which Christ came to save… it is the soul which he
forbids being made too much of; it is HIS soul, too, which the good Shepherd
himself lays down for his sheep. It is
to the soul, therefore, that you ascribe the supremacy”
Thomas Moore, in his
book Care of the Soul, takes us in a
more concrete direction – ironically, by being less concrete: “It is impossible to define precisely what the soul
is. Definition is an intellectual
enterprise anyway; the soul prefers to imagine. .. the soul has to do with
genuineness and depth, as when we say certain music has soul.. Soulfulness is
attached to life and all its particulars – good food, satisfying conversation,
genuine friends, and experiences that stay in the memory and touch the
heart. Soul is revealed in attachment,
love, and community, as well as in retreat on behalf of inner communing and intimacy.
Soul [is] in the middle, holding together mind and body, ideas and life,
spirituality and the world.”
So there we have
it. The soul is the home of imagination
and metaphor, the slightly open door in the deep recesses of our minds and
hearts. It is the scary and wonderful
place where we find our deepest self rooted in the one who created us. By the definitions above, Jesus comes across
as one who understands soul. He knows
all about good food and good conversations.
His imagination abounds in wonder and in terror, and he inhabits a world
fully interwoven with the deep realities that we only sometimes glimpse. So when Jesus speaks up about the soul, we do
well to listen.
Jesus also knows about
the dark hidden truths of the world, the parts that obscure and diminish souls,
that leave them sickened and emaciated, and it is his mission to ultimately
destroy those things. What obscures
souls? In a word, sin. But those three letters cover so much ground
in so little time that we have to slow down a bit to understand what’s going
on. If our soul is the ultimate home to
our deep identity, then sin is that collection of actions and beliefs that work
against our living into it. This would
include things like falseness and oppression, things that attempt to force
another definition or identity upon us than that which God has gifted.
In today’s gospel
passage, I see a model for caring for souls, one that is not immediately
popular, nor easy to carry out. As such,
it is all the more important that we engage it.
Peter hears Jesus talking about his impending death at the hands of the
authorities, and – Peter being such a shrewd character and all – he immediately
understands the implications for his own life.
If what Jesus says actually comes to pass, Peter is going to look like a
complete fool: hoodwinked by a common criminal posing as a spiritual master;
his wife will look at him and say, “see, I told you you were wasting your time
with that kook – now go fix up your fishing boat and get to work.” It is from this false place, this soul-less
self, that Peter rebukes Jesus. He wants
to trade in that picture of Jesus he doesn’t like. He needs a Jesus that burnishes his own image
a bit.
That’s not what he
gets, though: “Get behind me
Satan!” How’s that for being put in your
place? In front of all his best buddies
no less! That Jesus can be a real jerk
sometimes, can’t he? How is this caring
for a soul?
But Jesus isn’t
finished. Turning to the crowds he
issues a maxim that has become so famous that we barely know what it means
anymore: “if anyone would be my follower, let him take up his cross and follow
me.” Piling on the self loathing a bit isn’t
he? But wait: what self are we talking
about here? It is the false self which
hides, which avoids exposure at all costs, which will do anything to cover over
discomfort or evade condemnation. It is
the false self that will become whatever is most convenient for getting love
and power and glory for itself, no matter the cost. It is the false self which tries so
desperately to smother the soul in the fear that the soul will be rejected,
will be annihilated, if it brought out into the light. It is the false self that Jesus wants us to
learn to see, and it is the soul which we gain when we take on the risk of the
cross. We can only find our true
identity at the expense of the false one, and only by walking in the path that
God lays before us. This is the way of
the cross, the way of sorrows, the daily dying to ourselves so that we may find
our true identity hidden in God.
What is a soul? It is that true self, that deep identity that
God has joyfully and graciously set out for us.
It is the place of true and abundant life, the mansion with many rooms,
the release for the captives and the sight for the blind. It is the place to which Jesus is leading as
he takes up his cross and invites us to do likewise. But let us not jump there quite yet, for this
is the place of deep observation and reflection: this is Lent, the time when we
seek to discover and lovingly root out the false self as we intentionally take
on the practices that nurture our souls. I invite you, as we continue on our
Lenten journey together, to discern those places where God is calling you to
risk shame and rejection, to risk exposure, to risk knowing the truth. It is an invitation to life. Will you take it? Or would you rather just
trade in that picture of Jesus you don’t like?
Let us pray:
Almighty God, whose
most dear Son went not up to joy but first he suffered pain, and entered not
into glory before he was crucified: Mercifully grant that we, walking in the
way of the cross, may find it none other than the way of life and peace;
through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
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