Write Off Our Losses in Christ

One night, during a live performance by David Sedaris, Elizabeth elbowed me in the ribs. Sedaris had been describing the experience of having a colonoscopy and had mentioned that the doctor had asked whether he wanted to stay awake to watch. Without hesitating, I leaned over and said to Elizabeth, "I'd want to watch." As soon as the words came out of my mouth, Sedaris remarked that the only kind of people who would want to watch their own colonoscopy are the same people who enjoy doing their own taxes. That's when she elbowed me. Because, in fact, I like doing my taxes.

Clergy taxes are a little complicated, so it helps that I got a leg-up from a CPA whom I paid to do them for a few years. But every year, I seemed to find a few things that he had missed, and, after a while, I wondered why I was paying him to do it. Now, it's a game between me and the IRS to see if I can find all of the little legal bits and pieces that will save me money. I mention that little tax game because Sunday's epistle lesson from Philippians 3 involves a theological claim that makes more sense when you think of it as a write-off.

In the opening line, Paul boasts of his accomplishments: "If anyone else has reason to be confident in the flesh, I have more: circumcised on the eighth day, a member of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew born of Hebrews; as to the law, a Pharisee; as to zeal, a persecutor of the church; as to righteousness under the law, blameless." But then he writes, "Yet whatever gains I had, these I have come to regard as loss because of Christ." Those of us who grew up in churches that used the Lutheran, Protestant grace-over-law lens as the primary way of interpreting the gospel are familiar with this passage. Paul wants us to know that his earthly accomplishments--his works--amount to nothing compared with "the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus [his] Lord." But this isn't simply a philosophical claim. Paul is using financial language to make his point.

What is the loss he is talking about? The Greek word is "ζημίαν." It means "damage" or "loss" or "detriment." It indicates the sort of thing that tanks a business venture. It's what the adjuster says when your twelve-year-old car is T-boned by a careless driver. It's the "bad deal" of an unsuccessful business venture produces nothing but a negative. Given that Paul uses the opposite financial term for gain ("κέρδη") in the beginning of the sentence, we see that he has money on his mind. What was on the books as a profit has actually become a loss. This isn't the sort of loss that is recovered. It's a stain on the accounting sheet. Paul has invested lots of time and effort into his identity as a faithful Pharisee, and now he recognizes that all of that effort produced nothing. It was money spent with nothing gained. The only thing he can do is write it off.

This morning, I stumbled upon the CEB translation of this passage, which incorporates that accounting language: "These things were my assets, but I wrote them off as a loss for the sake of Christ." That's what it means to have banked on one's own efforts only to discover that they are worthless. That's the reversal that Christ represents to Paul. That's the reversal Christ represents to us.

When it comes to your relationship with God, what are you storing up for yourself? In my own preaching and writing, I've come to a place where living out the gospel is particularly important. In a culture defined by conflict and tragedy and poverty and racial strife, I hear Jesus calling me to do something about it. But why am I doing it? Why am I inviting others to do it? Why does any of us do good works in the name of Jesus? If we're trying to build an account for ourselves with God, we'd better take another look at the balance sheet. All of our efforts are total loss when brought into the light of knowing Jesus. We don't do them because we want God to approve of us. God loves us because that's who God is not because of who we are or what we do. We do these things because we know that we are loved irrespective of them.

If you feel a tension with this Sunday's gospel lesson, I'm glad to hear it. I do, too. In Jesus' parable, the vineyard is taken away from the wicked tenants and given to those who will bear fruit for the kingdom. That's the way Jesus describes it. Paul must not have known this parable, or, perhaps, he just didn't like it very much. The classic answer is that our efforts must not be an attempt to earn God's love but a response to it. That feels right, but I'm still having trouble reconciling that with the parable Jesus uses. I'm going to wrestle with it for a few more days and see if something comes out.