The reading today from the second chapter of St Paul’s Epistle to the Colossians urges us as baptised Christians who “have been raised with Christ” to “put to death what is earthly in [us].” The reading then sets out more than 10 sins which are still being committed by baptised Christians, especially heresy—that is, belief in teachings that are false and not accepted by the Church. This reading bothered that great fourth century preacher and teacher, St John Chrysostom a lot. He asked: “Does Paul write as though these things were [still] in us?” St John was puzzling over whether there was some kind of contradiction in the teaching of St Paul, because once we are Christians, don’t we stop sinning? But then St John wrote: “There is no contradiction;” and he explained that baptised Christians are like statues that once were dirty but have now been “recast”—that is, reshaped as “new and light” with all the old “rust eaten off and destroyed. Yet,” preaches St John, Paul “recommends diligence in clearing away [any] future rust. [Paul] does not contradict himself, for it is not the rust which [has already been scraped off] that he recommends should be cleared away but that [rust] which grew afterwards.” In other words, St Paul is not concerned with our past sins that we have confessed and for which we have been forgiven, but rather with preventing any future sins.

One of the most beautiful statues I have ever seen is Michelangelo’s statue of David in the Uffizi Museum in Florence, in Italy. The museum’s website points out that David is carved “as a young man [about] 16 years old … holding a rock in his hand, with the sling on his shoulder as he prepares to fight the giant [Goliath].” In the statue David has “an intense look in the eyes, contracted muscles which make it seem as if David is holding his breath, and veins standing out which make it seem as if blood is truly flowing through the marble.” That is a fair description. The statue is very impressive, very full of light and clean-looking in its white marble.

Now, when we are baptised, we become like that statue of David, “new and light,” cleaned up and ready for a new life. Writing in Baptismal Instructions, St John Chrysostom explains how he himself has often “anticipated the event” of baptism by instructing those who are about to be baptised “so that [they] might be carried by the wings of hope and enjoy the pleasure [that is, anticipate their future joy] before they enjoyed the actual benefit. I [told you of that hope],” he wrote that “you might adopt a purpose [in your lives] worthy of the [baptismal] rite.” How can we do this? How can we as baptised Christians find purpose in our lives “carried by the wings of hope?”

In this reading that we have just heard, St Paul tells us, and I quote from verses 9 and 10: “Put off the old nature … and put on the new nature, which is being renewed in knowledge after the image of its Creator. Here there cannot be Greek and Jew, … slave and free … but [only] Christ [who] is all, and in all” [end of quote]. There’s the goal—to make Christ Himself the focus of our lives—the point at which our thoughts and actions and prayers come together. St John Chrysostom points out that, and I quote: “Moral choice rather than human nature is the determining factor [in how we live] and … constitutes ‘the human condition…’ For human nature itself does not cast one into hell, nor does it lead one into the kingdom.” St John concludes that St Paul’s key theme is that “freedom of choice, with its accompany acts” is what moves us from our old nature to our new nature.

This is not deep theology and philosophy. This is reality: both before and after we are baptised, we choose how to live. The dictionary defines “moral” as “relating to principles of good and evil, right and wrong.” St Paul is trying to guide the people of Colossae (and us) away from heresy. The English word heresy comes from the Greek hairesis, meaning “choice.” So, that’s what’s important here—moral choice—decisions about how to live our lives.

I have recently read an important book about how each of us can learn to make appropriate moral choices. Dr. Edith Eva Eger, a Hungarian Jew, imprisoned by the Nazis in Auschwitz concentration camp at the age of 16 and now age 90, has just written her first book, The Choice: Embrace the Possible. At times, people come to Dr. Eger, a qualified clinical psychologist and say: “Things in my life are pretty hard right now, but I have no right to complain—it’s not Auschwitz.” She replies: “This kind of comparison can lead us to minimize or diminish our own suffering…. I don’t want you to hear my story and say, ‘My own suffering is less significant.’ I want you to hear my story and say, ‘If she can do it, then so can I.’”

That was exactly the attitude of St Paul who was encouraging new Christians to be inspired by his example in facing and overcoming challenges. As Edith Eger phrases it, “We have a choice: to pay attention to what we’ve lost or to pay attention to what we still have…. Survival is a matter of interdependence”—of learning to trust and depend on each other. Dr Eger adds: “Only after many years did I come to understand that running away doesn’t heal pain. It makes the pain worse…. Each moment is a choice. No matter how frustrating or boring or constraining or painful or oppressive our experience, we can always choose how we respond.” For us as Christians, our response to the challenges and disappointments of life is linked not only to trusting and depending on each other, but also to trusting in God’s love for each of us.

Recent psychological research shows that each day we make between 2,000 and 10,000 choices. Many of those choices are not moral choices, but some are. As Christians, we can pray and decide to follow St Paul and St John Chrysostom and move steadily toward our new nature in Christ, forgiving ourselves and others for any sins or mistakes in the past. Edith Eger is often asked: “How did you learn to overcome the past?” She replies: “Overcome? Overcome? I haven’t overcome anything…. The past isn’t gone…. It lives on in me. But so does the perspective it has afforded me: that I lived to see liberation because I kept hope alive in my heart…. I lived to see freedom because I learned to forgive.” 

“We are always in the process of becoming,” Edith Eger stressed. “Forgiving is a life-long experience.” She writes as a committed Jew, but we as Christians can agree with her that we all live together “in the sacred present.” And I find the closing sentences of her book inspiring. She wrote: “I can’t heal you—or anyone—but I can celebrate your choice to dismantle [that is, “to take something to pieces, to demolish] the prison in your mind, brick by brick. You can’t change what happened, you can’t change what you did or what was done to you. But you can choose how you live now” [end of quote]. As St Paul wrote in Philippians, chapter 4, verse 13, “I can do all things through Him [that is, Christ] who strengthens me.” We can follow in the footsteps of St Paul, living “in the sacred present,” doing all things through Christ who strengthens each of us.

And so, we ascribe as is justly due all might, majesty, dominion, power and praise to God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, always now and ever and unto the ages of ages. Amen.