People often say that the Church is not a club for the righteous but rather a hospital for sinners. I now believe that the metaphor of church as hospital for sinners doesn’t go far enough. It strikes me that it might be better viewed as hospice and crematorium for sinners. Why such an image of dying and burial? Following Jesus requires a certain kind of mortality and laying to rest.
It is no accident that the first of the twelve steps of Alcoholic’s Anonymous is the recognition and embracing of powerlessness. Powerlessness siphons terror from the dark place within us where the wild things pace – when life finally reveals its inevitable mastery of all circumstances and we meet, perhaps for the first time, a boundary, not a border to be crossed, not an obstacle to be overcome but a boundary period. No finesse, grace or power we have honed will change anything. We are speechless for the thing that we have feared has come upon us.
At such a moment an inner voice says, “Don’t just stand there do something!” I think I could move to the left or perhaps I could tunnel under this boundary. There has to be a way. I look for doctors, priests, and shamans to fix this so the boundary will go away and I can be in control again. But there is none to help in time of need.
I frantically look for what I might do. I inventory the past. If I had done this differently or gone down that fork in the path rather than the one I chose. I begin to feel anger that such a thing is true, that I am indeed powerless. I feel guilt. Even though a part of me knows that no action on my part can change the boundary. But as Elaine Pagels says, “people would rather feel guilty than powerless.” But feeling guilt changes nothing. Nothing changes nothing.
We can medicate against such occasions. We can take a pill or drink a drink or work harder and longer so that we need not know the truth of the boundary and choose to feel nothing rather than give in to the terror of powerlessness. But there is not enough to change the simple monolithic fact that we are powerless over the boundary.
Finally out of exhaustion or “fed up-ness” (which a teacher of mine said was the greatest motivation for change) we sink down before the unchangeable and concede that we are indeed at the mercy of the boundary of reality. We are at the terminal phase of our struggle and are now ready to die and be buried.
Then and only then suddenly the energy is released the energy to transcend the boundary. Like the boundary of addiction true surrender releases energy to accomplish the very thing that will alone can never achieve. The irony is that no matter how many times I experience the gift of surrender the struggle continues for surrender is counter-intuitive. I believe that a Christian community is the place where such paradoxical learning must occur. Let us then come to the boundary, hear the voice of the savior and take up our bed and walk.
 Edwin Friedman in lecture