Sincerity

Last night I took WORLD magazine's review of The Cult of Sincerity seriously and watched it on YouTube. If you have 90 minutes to see a first rate film I highly recommend this one, though I will issue a warning about the language (it's not constant, but salted throughout) and some of the conversational content. (To caveat the warning though, the language and content is not gratuitous in the sense that I believe it's an accurate portrayal of the context.) The story revolves around several affluent 20-somethings who gather at the bar every night to parade the characters they have built for themselves. There's the wacky film student, the sophisticated feminist, the musician, the flirt. They are “with it,” happening people with avant garde opinions and ready catch phrases to handle any situation. They are post-moderns trying not to notice the contradiction of acknowledging no absolutes in an absolute world. (Best line: “Oops. I mean, Whatever!”) As the plot unfolds (this is no action film— be prepared to enjoy dialog and some real-life loose ends), we see the veneer begin to crack. By the half-way point the appalling emptinesses at their centers are in full-bloom. Each of them handle it differently, but the main guy, Joe, takes it on himself to track down a real remedy, a sincere remedy. Hence the title. Click that link up there and see how he does!

It was after I'd finished watching it and was reading the last chapter of 1 Corinthians (which really doesn't have anything to say on the subject exactly... it was just in close proximity to the rest of the Word, which does have a few things to say on the subject) that I suddenly thought of the earthen vessel thing. Paul tells us we have this treasure in earthen vessels (2 Cor. 4:7), “this treasure” being light and glory and the face of Jesus Christ. And we always talk about being “filled with the Holy Spirit.” But switch it around. What happens if they are bereft of their intended purpose and light and glory and the Holy Spirit are not in the vessel? Well, they're empty.
Funny thing, it turns out “sincerity” originally meant “without wax” (this is according to my dad, so take it up with him; I just think it makes a great point). This referred to the process of coating with wax— get this— earthen vessels to disguise cracks and impurities. If something was “without wax,” or sincere, it was a good pot. Whole, without defect, prepared for its proper purpose. Did I mention this was church around the breakfast table again? So hear this: if you feel empty, find out what job your were made to do. There's only one, really: to house the glory of the only infinite, necessary Being, who has unfathomably decided to bring us along for the ride. Yea for pottery.