Sermon Archive

Belt and Breastplate, Shoes and Shield

(Rutgers, August 27, 2000; Sunday , Year B)

Psalm 84 (OT, pp. 600–601); Ephesians 6:10–11, 14–17 (NT, p. 208)

So it was the Machiavelli among them who was the Survivor. It was that master-conniver Richard Hatch who got picked by the jury of seven South-China-Sea castaways. These seven split 4 to 3 but chose Rich to win the $1,000,000—him, rather than white-water guide Kelly Wiglesworth.

So in the end, after 39 tortuous and torturous days of heat and rain and bugs and mud and snakes and rats, 39 days on the island of Pulau Tiga, things came down to this, as summarized so venomously by truck driver Susan Hawk: “The snake swallowed the rat.” Or, as another juror put it much less colorfully, “We weren’t voting for the better person, just the less objectionable.” In the short span of 39 days, a community of 16 persons, who’d started out working together to set up their camps under survival conditions, had been reduced by competition for wealth to the snake who’d swallowed the rat.

Some of you may remember that last Spring I preached a sermon on becoming “An Easter People,” on becoming a loving, caring, sharing community of people. In that sermon I mentioned, with great alarm, that a new summer TV program would be popularizing a type of community antithetical to the type Christ came to create. Way back on Sunday, May 7th, I said, quote:

“CBS intends to field a program this summer that will show us a community of people stranded on an island, a community that has to keep voting out one of its members until in the end only one of the original community remains, and that one’s declared ‘the winner’” and given $1,000,000!

I expected “Survivor” to become a hit since it was promising to pander to the American cult of rugged individualism and to our seemingly insatiable desire for wealth at any price, but I had not anticipated that the program would become the most talked-about, focused-upon cultural phenomenon of the year 2000.

Still, I have something to confess! Last Wednesday night I was 1 of the 72 million Americans who sat down to watch at least part of the final, two-hour episode of “Survivor”—an audience that included 1 out of every 4 Americans. Now tell the truth! How many of you also watched at least part of it? Come on. Raise your hands!

Now, it so happened that when I sat down in front of the TV, I brought to my viewing a mindset shaped serendipitously by a unique combination of activities during the preceding 24 hours.

You see, on Wednesday morning I’d begun preparing for this sermon by reading and studying the lectionary passage from the Letter to the Ephesians that’s today’s Second Lesson. I’m sure only a few other Americans had done that!

And as the final four contestants went into battle with each other to determine who would be left the Sole Survivor, certain military images from Ephesians were fresh in my mind: “Put on the whole armor of God … the belt of truth …, the breastplate of [doing right] …, the shoes [of proclaiming] the gospel of peace …, the shield of faith.…” (Eph. 6:11a, 14–16a

Now, any of you who saw the summer movie Gladiator have a pretty good image of the armament worn by a Roman soldier, the equipment that underlies the metaphors used in Ephesians. But unlike the armament in Gladiator, the equipment listed in Ephesians was to be used not for gaining wealth and power and empire but for strengthening oneself to resist evil. Note that belt, breastplate, shoes, and shield are all pieces used for defense, rather than offense.

When I studied Ephesians on Wednesday morning, I linked its military metaphors to some powerful visual images that I’d seen in a movie just the night before, Tuesday, right here at the Rutgers Church—no, not Gladiator, but the movie Romero, a film about the Christian martyr Archbishop Oscar Romero and his struggle for justice for the people of El Salvador.

Archbishop Romero was assassinated in 1980 by the military junta of El Salvador, a murderous group of despoilers of the land and peasantry, rulers propped up in their campaigns of violence by support from the United States government, support proffered by us in the name—the spurious name—of “anti-Communism.”

Archbishop Romero was assassinated by the junta because, in response to all their efforts to silence him, or at least neutralize him, Romero had put on the whole armor of God. In defense of his people, he had girded on the belt of truth, refusing to lie; he had donned the breastplate of doing right, holding firmly to his moral principles and insisting on justice for the people; he had put on the shoes of the gospel of peace, working for healing, not retribution, and advocating non-violence; and he had taken up the shield of faith, facing down soldiers in many dangerous situations defended only by his trust in God.

One of the most moving scenes in Romero depicts the Archbishop entering a church that has been occupied and defiled by the Salvadorian army, who have turned the building into a barracks. Romero informs the officer in charge that he has come to remove from the tabernacle the consecrated host of the Eucharist, so that it might be spared desecration. The officer sneers, then turns and fires a burst from his machine gun at the tabernacle and altar, shattering most of the sacred objects there, but scattering some of the host on the floor.

Horrified, Romero at first turns and leaves, but then returns, silently approaches the altar, kneels, and, while the gun barrels of the hostile soldiers are trained on him, picks up, one by one, from amidst the debris, the wafers of the Eucharist.

Again Romero leaves the church, but moments later, filled with fuller resolve, he gathers up the villagers standing outside the church. Together, they march down the aisle to the altar, where, with nothing to defend themselves other than the belt of truth, the breastplate of righteousness, the shoes of peace, and the shield of faith, they face down the troops and celebrate communion.

So it was that when I sat down last Wednesday night to watch “Survivor,” these powerful images from Ephesians and Romero were much on my mind. And how ludicrous in comparison seemed the television burlesque of Rich, Rudy, Kelly, and Sue girding for their battle, putting on, figuratively speaking, their belt, breastplate, shoes, and shield. I say “figuratively speaking” because, of course, on that tropical island no one was wearing even a belt or shoes, let alone a breastplate or shield.

None of these four looked anything like the Roman legionnaire imaged for us by both Ephesians and the movie Gladiator, but gladiators for power and wealth they nonetheless were—gladiators in a contest described grandly by the show’s host as “a game paralleling life,” gladiators in a struggle described by one contestant as “doing anything to win,” and by another contestant as “being mean for money.”

The virtues in this contest were hardly those mentioned in Ephesians, the virtues of truth and righteousness, of faith and peacefulness. The “virtues” in this contest, at least as heralded by the producer, were outwitting,” “outplaying,” “outlasting” all other members of the community. What the producers meant by that was, I believe, this: “In order to win $1,000,000, you must: not tell the truth, but lie through your teeth; not do the right, but focus on the money; not trust in others, but count only on yourself; and not make peace, but pick off rivals.

In the end, it was the four who joined together to pick off all others who made it through to the Final Four contestants and then got to pick off each other.

And at the end, one of those who’d been picked off earlier found himself asking: “Does the end justify the means?” (Sean) And another found herself exclaiming: “I’m glad I got out when I did. I couldn’t have been ruthless.” (Jenna) And the next-to-the-last survivor, the runner-up, Kelly, found herself expressing remorse for the moral low points to which she had sunk.

As I went to bed Wednesday night, I found myself wishing devoutly that 72 million Americans had been watching parts of Romero rather than parts of “Survivor.”

For the crucial contests in life are not those like the one Rich waged, a contest against others for money.

Rather, the crucial contests in life are those like the one Romero waged, a contest against evil for justice.

Let me say that again, for it’s the heart of my message today. The crucial contests in life are not those like the one Rich waged against others for money, but those like the one Romero waged against evil for justice.

It is for contests like Romero’s, those in which we, in the name of God, stand up to the principalities and powers of this world for the sake of justice—it is for contests like Romero's that we must put on the whole armor of God: the belt of truth, the breastplate of doing right, the shoes of peacefulness, and the shield of faith.

And here’s the good news! If, like Archbishop Romero, we turn for grace to Christ and turn for power to the Holy Spirit, then we will be given the gift of the whole armor of God, the gift of truth and trust, of peace and righteousness, this gift that not even death can overcome.

Let us pray:

O God, save us from the silly and superficial. And prepare us for the contests that matter, the contests against evil for justice. In the name of Christ we pray. Amen.

Return to Sermon Archive