My somewhat-odd sermon title comes from the King James Version rendition of our Gospel text. Near the end of Jesus’ public ministry, as pilgrims are flooding into Jerusalem for the Passover festival, Jesus is in Jerusalem as well. Some Greeks – likely Gentiles, certainly at least to some extent outsiders at the festival – approach Philip with the words, “Sir, we would see Jesus.” Philip goes to Andrew, and then Philip and Andrew present them to Jesus.
It is a secret to nobody that churches don’t draw the numbers they once did. At one time, in the 1950’s, it was expected that families who wanted to be considered upstanding citizens would attend church, not necessarily out of strong conviction, but because it was a social obligation, the thing to do. Those days are long behind us. And maybe it’s not even entirely a bad thing - it’s possible, maybe even likely, that many of those people were attending church for the wrong reason, seeking decorum instead of discipleship; respectability instead of repentance; status instead of servanthood. These days, going to church is no longer the thing to do, but only one of a vast variety of possible things to do.
People no longer just sort of drift through our front door into worship by osmosis or inertia. Those who come to church, make the effort because they are seeking something. Something or someone – a sense of being spiritually connected to God and neighbor, a place where one can ask deep questions about big issues, a place to be embraced by a loving community, a place to find peace and healing and restoration. While the words may not be there, at some level those who visit our church or any church make the request, “Sir – Ma’am – we would see Jesus.”
What will they find? Will they find Jesus? I’m concerned that many of our congregations are so cluttered with other priorities that Jesus gets lost in the shuffle. Christian writer Michael Spencer, in an article called “The Coming Evangelical Collapse” envisions a future a generation or two from now, of half-empty (or more) evangelical churches, of ministries shuttering their doors for lack of funds and supporters. He sees this as the outcome of a too-close alliance between the more visible TV preachers and public evangelists and political conservatives, with the result that if you ask your average Joe on the street what evangelical Christians are like – and surveys have been done on this very question by respected polling organizations - they’ll tell you that Christians are people who are really angry about one or two hot-button social issues. While the intent may be to “love the sinner while hating the sin,” often the “hate” part is the only part that comes across. Among the unchurched, Christians are seen as people who hate. Let that sink in for just a minute…Christians are seen as people who hate. Yet the Jesus of the Bible attracts the unchurched, so they come to us requesting, “Sir – Ma’am, we would see Jesus.” Can Jesus be found among the calls of condemnation?
And sometimes we don’t do so good ourselves. When is the last time you or I actually shared our faith with someone? We can tell people about our church history, about the groups that share our space, about our auctions and rummage sales – and all that is valuable and there’s time for all that - but can we tell people about Jesus? To use the words of the old hymn, do we love to tell the story of Jesus and His love?
The truth is that all of us, as Christians, are windows through which others may see Jesus. At our worst, we can obscure that light, so that our neighbors see only our own fear and anger. A preacher friend of mine, who sometimes spreads herself too thin, sometimes acknowledges those moments when she’s not at her best by saying, “I’m afraid my congregation saw a little too much of me today, and not enough of Jesus.” At our best, though, our lives are like stained glass through which the light of God’s love shines, making patterns of beauty and joy and peace in the lives of those around us. May those who approach us with the request, “Sir – Ma’am – we would see Jesus” find what they’re looking for.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Were You There?
Dear Sisters and Brothers in Christ –
“Were you there when they crucified my Lord?”
As I write this, we are rapidly approaching the end of Lent. We will soon be starting Passion Week, that annual spiritual pilgrimage from the “Hosannas” of Palm Sunday to Communion amid gathering darkness on Maundy Thursday, from Good Friday’s cries of “Crucify him!” to Easter’s proclamation that “The Lord is Risen! He is risen indeed!”
“Oh…..Sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble”
It’s a road Christians travel, not only once a year according to the liturgical calendar, but many times in our spiritual pilgrimage through life. We pass through times of consolation and times of desolation, times when we can feel God’s presence closer than our breath, and times when the words of Jesus on the cross tremble on our lips: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me.”
“Were you there when God raised him from the tomb?”
As Christians, we know that the journey ends, not on a lonely hill beside a cross, but in the garden beside an empty tomb. Despite the worst of human sin, God’s resurrection life has the last word.
“Were you there?”
Monday, March 23, 2009
Lifted Up
This past Sunday’s Old Testament reading (Numbers 21:4-9) is among the strangest in all of Scripture – and that’s saying something. It comes from a time near the end of the Hebrews’ journeys in the wilderness. The people had just concluded 30 days of mourning for Aaron, who had just died. Aaron’s son Eleazar had been vested with Aaron’s vestments and now served in Aaron’s stead. Moses had tried to lead the people through the territory of Edom, but the king of Edom refused. Therefore they had to go around the territory of Edom, through the desert. The people became rebelled against Moses – again – complaining about the lack of food and water, and about the monotony of the Manna they’d been eating all these years. Scripture tells us that, in response, God sent poisonous snakes, who bit the people. Then the people repented and asked Moses to pray for God to take away the snakes. God tells Moses to make an image of a poisonous snake and put it on a pole and set it up, and anyone who looked at the snake would live.
We may remember the Ten Commandments, and prominent among them is the prohibition on graven images – “You shall not make unto yourselves an idol of anything in the heaven above or the earth beneath or the water under the earth; you shall not bow down to them or serve them, for I the Lord your God am a jealous God…” And yet here Moses is specifically instructed to make an image of a snake, and the people are specifically instructed to look to it for healing. What on earth is going on here?
When we read about cases of institutional corruption and deceit – be it corruption in government, corruption in the church – as during the clergy child abuse scandals – or corruption in business – as during our financial meltdown, the phrase inevitably – and properly – comes up: “sunlight is the best disinfectant.” Those who do wrong want to tell us that, “well, the situation is complicated, it’s too big for you to understand. After all, if we delay in going to war, the smoking gun may be a mushroom cloud. And you surely can’t understand the pressures that clergy with the pressures of the pastorate, live under. And if you try to interfere in the financial houses of cards that we’ve set up, the whole thing will come crashing down. You don’t understand, so you should let us handle it.” That’s what those who would conceal their sin behind their lies tell us. Human sin does not like to be out in the open – it prefers concealment. In words from John’s gospel, sinners prefer the darkness to the light, because their deeds are evil. The solution is to bring the issue out in the open. Sunlight is the best disinfectant.
So it was in today’s Old Testament reading. The children of Israel rebelled, and snakes bit them. Calling on God in their behalf, Moses was told to make a bronze serpent and put it on a pole. Whoever looked up at the serpent and repented would live. The serpent on the pole puts the issue – rebellion against God – out in the open, out into the sunlight, like a great big billboard that nobody could miss. In looking up, the people would be looking up at a reminder of their rebellion, in repentance – and past the serpent to Almighty God who would save them. Even today, when we take a slip for a prescription to the pharmacy or a sign in front of a doctor’s office, we may see the lingering memory of this story – entwined snakes on a pole, a symbol of healing.
In explaining his own role, Jesus harked back to this strange Old Testament story: as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whosoever believes in him should have eternal life. The cross, like the bronze serpent, is an image of human sin, brought out into the open, into the sunlight. We look to the crucified Jesus in repentance for our healing. Jesus’ harking back to this image of the brazen serpent in the desert also brings a new layer of meaning to Jesus’ familiar words “I am the bread of life” and his words about having living water. His words about the bread of life may lead us to think about holy communion, and indeed that is one layer of meaning. In the context of John’s gospel, however, Jesus is specifically comparing himself to the heavenly manna and to the springs of water that sustained the children of Israel in the desert. In the same way, Jesus sustains us, day by day, especially during those wilderness stretches in our own lives when life is difficult and God seems so far away. And in his being lifted up on the cross, when we look to him in repentance, our sins are forgiven. In the words of Isaiah: “he was wounded for our transgressions, and by his stripes we are healed.”
We may remember the Ten Commandments, and prominent among them is the prohibition on graven images – “You shall not make unto yourselves an idol of anything in the heaven above or the earth beneath or the water under the earth; you shall not bow down to them or serve them, for I the Lord your God am a jealous God…” And yet here Moses is specifically instructed to make an image of a snake, and the people are specifically instructed to look to it for healing. What on earth is going on here?
When we read about cases of institutional corruption and deceit – be it corruption in government, corruption in the church – as during the clergy child abuse scandals – or corruption in business – as during our financial meltdown, the phrase inevitably – and properly – comes up: “sunlight is the best disinfectant.” Those who do wrong want to tell us that, “well, the situation is complicated, it’s too big for you to understand. After all, if we delay in going to war, the smoking gun may be a mushroom cloud. And you surely can’t understand the pressures that clergy with the pressures of the pastorate, live under. And if you try to interfere in the financial houses of cards that we’ve set up, the whole thing will come crashing down. You don’t understand, so you should let us handle it.” That’s what those who would conceal their sin behind their lies tell us. Human sin does not like to be out in the open – it prefers concealment. In words from John’s gospel, sinners prefer the darkness to the light, because their deeds are evil. The solution is to bring the issue out in the open. Sunlight is the best disinfectant.
So it was in today’s Old Testament reading. The children of Israel rebelled, and snakes bit them. Calling on God in their behalf, Moses was told to make a bronze serpent and put it on a pole. Whoever looked up at the serpent and repented would live. The serpent on the pole puts the issue – rebellion against God – out in the open, out into the sunlight, like a great big billboard that nobody could miss. In looking up, the people would be looking up at a reminder of their rebellion, in repentance – and past the serpent to Almighty God who would save them. Even today, when we take a slip for a prescription to the pharmacy or a sign in front of a doctor’s office, we may see the lingering memory of this story – entwined snakes on a pole, a symbol of healing.
In explaining his own role, Jesus harked back to this strange Old Testament story: as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whosoever believes in him should have eternal life. The cross, like the bronze serpent, is an image of human sin, brought out into the open, into the sunlight. We look to the crucified Jesus in repentance for our healing. Jesus’ harking back to this image of the brazen serpent in the desert also brings a new layer of meaning to Jesus’ familiar words “I am the bread of life” and his words about having living water. His words about the bread of life may lead us to think about holy communion, and indeed that is one layer of meaning. In the context of John’s gospel, however, Jesus is specifically comparing himself to the heavenly manna and to the springs of water that sustained the children of Israel in the desert. In the same way, Jesus sustains us, day by day, especially during those wilderness stretches in our own lives when life is difficult and God seems so far away. And in his being lifted up on the cross, when we look to him in repentance, our sins are forgiven. In the words of Isaiah: “he was wounded for our transgressions, and by his stripes we are healed.”
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