This will be a short post - really, an invitation to view a new video ad from the national offices of the United Church of Christ. Called "The Language of God," this 90-second video lays out the United Church of Christ vision of inclusion, a church where all are welcome. If you're interested, check out the United Church of Christ website: www.ucc.org .
Or follow the link from the lower left hand corner of Emanuel UCC's website: www.emanuelphila.org .
If you like what you see and want to share the UCC's vision of God's inclusive love, feel free to email it to friends, neighbors, whoever.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Can I Get A Witness?
There’s an old philosophical riddle that goes as follows: “If a tree falls in the forest, and nobody is there to hear it, does it make a sound?” People have grappled with this question in different ways. An article from the late 1800’s said that sound is produced by vibrations that enter the ear and set in motion the ear’s mechanisms for conveying sound. Therefore, while the tree’s fall will produce vibration, if there’s no ear to pick up on the vibration, no sound is produced. A variation of the question is, does the existence of an observer, or witness to, an object or event, impose a change on the object itself – does the fact that someone sees a tree or a rock change the quality of the tree or the rock, for example? Probably most of us, from a practical standpoint, would say no – but in the absence of an observer, we have no way of knowing. Yet another variation on the question is, can something exist if nobody knows it’s there. I think most of us would answer “yes” – for example, the planets and stars existed before humans existed to observe them. On the other hand, if we don’t know they’re there, if we cannot see them or have no other way to measure the effect of their presence, they may as well not exist. The headache I begin to develop in pondering philosophical riddles like this makes me very glad that, while I took an introductory philosophy course once a number of years ago, I didn’t make philosophy my life’s work.
All of which is to point out that much – perhaps most – of what we know is because someone else observed it and told us about it. We turn on the evening news or log on to a news website to learn what’s going on in our world, because it is impossible for us as individuals to be everywhere at once. Our longtime members know the history of Emanuel Church, not because any one of us sitting here was around back in 1858 when interest first began in forming a German Reformed congregation in Bridesburg, or in 1861 when our congregation was officially organized – but because those who were around at the time wrote down what happened. Their observations of what was going on around them roughly 150 years ago still live on, because those alive at the time didn’t want the information to get lost – they thought it was important to pass this history on. In turn, I hope that someday the stories of our current members can be recorded somehow, so that future members of Emanuel Church will know what this congregation was like in 1930, or 1960, or 1990, or 2010. We also know that a given story can be told in more than one way - for example, those of us who grew up north of the Mason-Dixon line may view the history of the Civil War very differently from the way one who grew up in the South would view the War of Northern Aggression. And sometimes, different groups may battle over which stories can be told – for example, our sister congregation, Armenian Martyrs UCC, holds a solemn remembrance every April 24 or thereabouts of the Armenian genocide, while the Turkish government does everything possible to excuse the bloodshed, to minimize its extent, or to deny it happened at all. And few – in America, in Germany, or elsewhere – knew about the horrors of the Nazi regime and the extent of the killing in concentration camps until the Allied troops saw with their own eyes and reported to the world what they had found in liberating the camps.
The Acts of the Apostles, from which we’ll be reading over the next few weeks, tells the story of the early church. It’s a sort of sequel to the Gospel of Luke – the book of Acts begins, “In the first book, Theophilus, I wrote about all that Jesus did and taught from the beginning until the day when he was taken up to heaven….” That “first book” is the Gospel of Luke. The book of Acts is the sequel – after a brief account of Jesus’ascension into heaven, we read about the coming of the Holy Spirit, and then about what Peter and Philip and others of the disciples, in the power and under the guidance of the Holy Spirit, did to gather and organize the early church – and partway through, we meet Paul, whose Spirit-filled words and deeds take up most of the later chapters of Acts.
Early on we learn that, while Peter and Philip and the early disciples attracted many converts, they also attracted a great deal of opposition. Today’s reading from Acts recounts one conflict between Peter and the apostles and the Sadducees, who controlled the Temple at Jerusalem. It’s not the first conflict, nor will it be the last. At its heart, it is a battle over how the stories of Jesus will be told, or whether they will be told at all.
Here’s the leadup to today’s reading from Acts – the Apostles Peter and John had recently healed the crippled man who lay at one of the entrances to the Temple, called the Beautiful Gate, to solicit for alms. This healing attracted a crowd, and Peter and John used the opportunity to tell of the salvation and eternal life offered by the crucified and risen Jesus. The temple authorities had them arrested, but at night an angel of the Lord opened the prison doors, and Peter and John were back at the Temple with their message of salvation. So they were brought before the high priest, and that encounter is the subject of today’s reading from Acts. The high priest said that he had ordered them not to teach in the name of Jesus, but despite his orders, they had filled Jerusalem with their teaching. Peter and the apostles responded, “We must obey God rather than any human authority.” After briefly telling of Jesus’ death, resurrection, and exaltation as Lord and Savior, they said, “We are witnesses to these things, and so is the Holy Spirit whom God has given to those who obey him.” The Sadducees, who did not believe in the resurrection, wanted the story of Jesus to be about a troublemaker who was crucified for teaching religious heresy and inciting political rebellion, who was dead and buried. Peter and John and the other apostles insisted on telling a different story, a story with much better news for humankind. We are here today because of Peter and John’s witness, and Paul’s witness, and the witness of those who followed, all the way down to the present day.
“We are witnesses to these things, and so is the Holy Spirit whom God has given to those who obey him.” What about our witness? Church leaders agonize over the question of whether our society’s churches are able to take the faith that has been handed down to us and our personal experience of Christ’s salvation and the Spirit’s presence in our lives, and pass all that on to those who are to come? Or will our churches end up like the Shakers, a dying remnant that has left behind beautiful furniture and lovely music, but no living presence in the world? What a joy it has been, over the short time I’ve been here, to watch you, the longtime members, pass your faith and your traditions onto those who have joined more recently. What a joy it is to have young people worshipping with us, to see our small congregation, with all its many challenges, continue to pass the faith onto another generation.
For, just as in the time of the early church described in the book of Acts, the political and even religious powers that be do not want the Good News of Jesus to be told. They want the story of Jesus to be about our imaginary friend in the sky. Or they want the story of Jesus to be about greedy evangelists bilking the gullible. Or they want to spin the story of Jesus in a way that sanctifies our society’s greed and violence, to tell a story of salvation through acquisition of material things – salvation by shopping - or salvation by military dominance, salvation at the point of a gun - all blessed by Jesus. I began today’s sermon by asking, “if a tree falls in the forest with no one to hear it, does it make a sound?” Perhaps I should ask a more pointed question: “If Jesus Christ lived and died and rose again to bring salvation to all who call upon him, but nobody ever hears of him, does it make a difference?”
In the black church, there’s a rich tradition of call-and-response between the preacher and the congregation, with the congregation shouting “Amen!” and “Preach it” as the pastor brings the word – and sometimes “Help him, Lord” if the preacher’s floundering. And sometimes if the pastor wants to emphasize how his congregations have experienced God’s love, he or she will ask the congregation, “Can I get a witness?” And that’s my question this morning – will we tell the story of Jesus and his love? Can Jesus get a witness, get a witness from Emanuel Church?
From Paul’s letter to the Romans, “Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved. But how are they to call on one in whom they have not believed? And how are they to believe in one of whom they have never heard? And how are they to hear without someone to proclaim him? And how are they to proclaim him unless they are sent? As it is written, “How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!” And those beautiful feet are not just the feet of the pastor – not only my feet, but your feet as well. We are all, every single one of us, sent by God to proclaim Good News. The eternal destiny of our neighbors is at stake here. When we share the love of Christ with our friend, our neighbor, our acquaintance, we walk on holy ground. How can we hold back?
In our Gospel, Jesus told Thomas, “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” That’s for you and that’s for me – and that’s for all those with whom we share Good News. Though are numbers are few, may those blessed by our work here be many. Amen.
All of which is to point out that much – perhaps most – of what we know is because someone else observed it and told us about it. We turn on the evening news or log on to a news website to learn what’s going on in our world, because it is impossible for us as individuals to be everywhere at once. Our longtime members know the history of Emanuel Church, not because any one of us sitting here was around back in 1858 when interest first began in forming a German Reformed congregation in Bridesburg, or in 1861 when our congregation was officially organized – but because those who were around at the time wrote down what happened. Their observations of what was going on around them roughly 150 years ago still live on, because those alive at the time didn’t want the information to get lost – they thought it was important to pass this history on. In turn, I hope that someday the stories of our current members can be recorded somehow, so that future members of Emanuel Church will know what this congregation was like in 1930, or 1960, or 1990, or 2010. We also know that a given story can be told in more than one way - for example, those of us who grew up north of the Mason-Dixon line may view the history of the Civil War very differently from the way one who grew up in the South would view the War of Northern Aggression. And sometimes, different groups may battle over which stories can be told – for example, our sister congregation, Armenian Martyrs UCC, holds a solemn remembrance every April 24 or thereabouts of the Armenian genocide, while the Turkish government does everything possible to excuse the bloodshed, to minimize its extent, or to deny it happened at all. And few – in America, in Germany, or elsewhere – knew about the horrors of the Nazi regime and the extent of the killing in concentration camps until the Allied troops saw with their own eyes and reported to the world what they had found in liberating the camps.
The Acts of the Apostles, from which we’ll be reading over the next few weeks, tells the story of the early church. It’s a sort of sequel to the Gospel of Luke – the book of Acts begins, “In the first book, Theophilus, I wrote about all that Jesus did and taught from the beginning until the day when he was taken up to heaven….” That “first book” is the Gospel of Luke. The book of Acts is the sequel – after a brief account of Jesus’ascension into heaven, we read about the coming of the Holy Spirit, and then about what Peter and Philip and others of the disciples, in the power and under the guidance of the Holy Spirit, did to gather and organize the early church – and partway through, we meet Paul, whose Spirit-filled words and deeds take up most of the later chapters of Acts.
Early on we learn that, while Peter and Philip and the early disciples attracted many converts, they also attracted a great deal of opposition. Today’s reading from Acts recounts one conflict between Peter and the apostles and the Sadducees, who controlled the Temple at Jerusalem. It’s not the first conflict, nor will it be the last. At its heart, it is a battle over how the stories of Jesus will be told, or whether they will be told at all.
Here’s the leadup to today’s reading from Acts – the Apostles Peter and John had recently healed the crippled man who lay at one of the entrances to the Temple, called the Beautiful Gate, to solicit for alms. This healing attracted a crowd, and Peter and John used the opportunity to tell of the salvation and eternal life offered by the crucified and risen Jesus. The temple authorities had them arrested, but at night an angel of the Lord opened the prison doors, and Peter and John were back at the Temple with their message of salvation. So they were brought before the high priest, and that encounter is the subject of today’s reading from Acts. The high priest said that he had ordered them not to teach in the name of Jesus, but despite his orders, they had filled Jerusalem with their teaching. Peter and the apostles responded, “We must obey God rather than any human authority.” After briefly telling of Jesus’ death, resurrection, and exaltation as Lord and Savior, they said, “We are witnesses to these things, and so is the Holy Spirit whom God has given to those who obey him.” The Sadducees, who did not believe in the resurrection, wanted the story of Jesus to be about a troublemaker who was crucified for teaching religious heresy and inciting political rebellion, who was dead and buried. Peter and John and the other apostles insisted on telling a different story, a story with much better news for humankind. We are here today because of Peter and John’s witness, and Paul’s witness, and the witness of those who followed, all the way down to the present day.
“We are witnesses to these things, and so is the Holy Spirit whom God has given to those who obey him.” What about our witness? Church leaders agonize over the question of whether our society’s churches are able to take the faith that has been handed down to us and our personal experience of Christ’s salvation and the Spirit’s presence in our lives, and pass all that on to those who are to come? Or will our churches end up like the Shakers, a dying remnant that has left behind beautiful furniture and lovely music, but no living presence in the world? What a joy it has been, over the short time I’ve been here, to watch you, the longtime members, pass your faith and your traditions onto those who have joined more recently. What a joy it is to have young people worshipping with us, to see our small congregation, with all its many challenges, continue to pass the faith onto another generation.
For, just as in the time of the early church described in the book of Acts, the political and even religious powers that be do not want the Good News of Jesus to be told. They want the story of Jesus to be about our imaginary friend in the sky. Or they want the story of Jesus to be about greedy evangelists bilking the gullible. Or they want to spin the story of Jesus in a way that sanctifies our society’s greed and violence, to tell a story of salvation through acquisition of material things – salvation by shopping - or salvation by military dominance, salvation at the point of a gun - all blessed by Jesus. I began today’s sermon by asking, “if a tree falls in the forest with no one to hear it, does it make a sound?” Perhaps I should ask a more pointed question: “If Jesus Christ lived and died and rose again to bring salvation to all who call upon him, but nobody ever hears of him, does it make a difference?”
In the black church, there’s a rich tradition of call-and-response between the preacher and the congregation, with the congregation shouting “Amen!” and “Preach it” as the pastor brings the word – and sometimes “Help him, Lord” if the preacher’s floundering. And sometimes if the pastor wants to emphasize how his congregations have experienced God’s love, he or she will ask the congregation, “Can I get a witness?” And that’s my question this morning – will we tell the story of Jesus and his love? Can Jesus get a witness, get a witness from Emanuel Church?
From Paul’s letter to the Romans, “Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved. But how are they to call on one in whom they have not believed? And how are they to believe in one of whom they have never heard? And how are they to hear without someone to proclaim him? And how are they to proclaim him unless they are sent? As it is written, “How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!” And those beautiful feet are not just the feet of the pastor – not only my feet, but your feet as well. We are all, every single one of us, sent by God to proclaim Good News. The eternal destiny of our neighbors is at stake here. When we share the love of Christ with our friend, our neighbor, our acquaintance, we walk on holy ground. How can we hold back?
In our Gospel, Jesus told Thomas, “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” That’s for you and that’s for me – and that’s for all those with whom we share Good News. Though are numbers are few, may those blessed by our work here be many. Amen.
Resurrection Joy
(Scriptures: Acts 10:34-43, Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24,
1 Corinthians 15:19-26, Luke 24:1-12
Of course, it was the women who were faithful to the end. It’s especially notable in Luke’s Gospel that, in a patriarchal society where women were to be seldom seen and never heard, women pop up everywhere in the Passion narrative, very visible, and very vocal in their distress. We’re told that, as Jesus carried his cross, among those who followed were women who beat their breasts and wailed for Jesus. They stood at a distance watching the gruesome spectacle of the crucifixion. Powerless to stop the events of Good Friday, no power on earth could stop them from being witnesses. After the body of our Lord was taken down the cross, the women followed Joseph of Arimathea as he lovingly laid the body in a rock-hewn tomb where no one had ever been laid. The women returned home and began to prepare spices and ointments for preserving the body. And then, in what seems like an anti-climactic ending to the horrors of Good Friday, Luke tells us that “on the Sabbath they rested according to the commandment.” Even with their world coming apart around them, they were faithful followers of Torah.
And it was the women who were up at early dawn to anoint the body with the spices they had so lovingly prepared. They arrive at the tomb, where just two days before they with their own eyes had watched as the body was laid out. But now the stone was rolled away, and the body was gone. Luke tells us that, at the sight of the empty tomb, the women were perplexed – at a loss – this does not compute – and suddenly two men in dazzling clothes, angels we are to understand, appear beside them. They go from confusion to terror, but the men calm them by connecting what they’re seeing now to what Jesus had told them before: “Why do you look for the living among the dead. He is not here, for he has risen. Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners, and be crucified, and on the third day rise again.” Luke goes on to tell us, “Then they – the women – remembered his words, and returning from the tomb, they told all this to the eleven and all the rest.”
“Remember” – an important word in Luke’s Gospel. A recurring theme in Luke’s account of the resurrection is that the followers of Jesus are reminded to remember, to remember what Jesus had taught them, to remember all they had experienced while Jesus walked among them, to remember the Hebrew Scriptures – Moses, the prophets, the Psalms - which were their Bible. Later, in the account of the two disciples meeting Jesus on the Emmaus road, as they walk Jesus interprets the words of Moses and all the prophets to them, and they remember all that was written there that pointed to Jesus. Later Jesus appeared to the eleven and reminded him, “These are my words that I spoke to you while I was still with you, that everything written about me in the law of Moses, the prophets, and the psalms must be fulfilled.” And when we are perplexed and overwhelmed, staggering under life’s burdens, we too can remember – remember that we worship a God who brings joy out of sorrow, hope out of despair, a way out of no way, life out of death.
Having been instructed by the angels at the tomb, the women, their confusion and terror now turned to joy, return to the disciples and tell all that they had witnessed to the apostles. We’re given some of their names – Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James. But the apostles brushed off their words as an idle tale – after all, aren’t women always having vapors and fainting and going into hysterics? Only Peter gave their words enough credibility to go and check things out for themselves. Peter saw the empty tomb and the linen cloths rolled up in a tidy bundle, and went home, amazed. So it was the women – Joanna and the Marys - who in effect were the apostles to the apostles. Having moved from fear to resurrection joy, they couldn’t stop themselves from telling the good news of the resurrection. And in our reading from Acts, we listen to Peter, speaking from his resurrection joy, telling Cornelius, the gentile Roman centurion – “We are witnesses to all that he did both in Judea and in Jerusalem. They put him to death on a tree, but God raised him on the third day and allowed him to appear, not to all the people but to us who were chosen by God as witnesses. He commanded us to preach to the people.…” and so Peter brought the message that, because of the crucified and risen Jesus, life, not death, has the last word.
“Why seek ye the living among the dead” – perhaps a dangerous text to preach in a church surrounded on two sides by a cemetery! And yet, like Peter and the other apostles, we have been chosen by God to share our resurrection joy, to share the good news that our sin no longer separates us from God, but has been crucified with Christ, that we, along with those whose names are memorialized in our cemetery, are called to eternal life. When this mortal body puts on immortality, then the saying that has been written will be fulfilled: “Death has been swallowed up in victory. Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?” The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.”
“Why seek the living among the dead.” Let us not focus our lives – our time, our energy, our devotion – on worldly wealth and power that passes. We are called to remember – to remember who God is and what God has done for us through Christ, to remember who we are, beloved children of a loving heavenly father. As we share the good news with those around us, Emanuel Church will continue to be a place filled with resurrection joy, a place overflowing with life and renewal for our beloved community of Bridesburg. Amen.
1 Corinthians 15:19-26, Luke 24:1-12
Of course, it was the women who were faithful to the end. It’s especially notable in Luke’s Gospel that, in a patriarchal society where women were to be seldom seen and never heard, women pop up everywhere in the Passion narrative, very visible, and very vocal in their distress. We’re told that, as Jesus carried his cross, among those who followed were women who beat their breasts and wailed for Jesus. They stood at a distance watching the gruesome spectacle of the crucifixion. Powerless to stop the events of Good Friday, no power on earth could stop them from being witnesses. After the body of our Lord was taken down the cross, the women followed Joseph of Arimathea as he lovingly laid the body in a rock-hewn tomb where no one had ever been laid. The women returned home and began to prepare spices and ointments for preserving the body. And then, in what seems like an anti-climactic ending to the horrors of Good Friday, Luke tells us that “on the Sabbath they rested according to the commandment.” Even with their world coming apart around them, they were faithful followers of Torah.
And it was the women who were up at early dawn to anoint the body with the spices they had so lovingly prepared. They arrive at the tomb, where just two days before they with their own eyes had watched as the body was laid out. But now the stone was rolled away, and the body was gone. Luke tells us that, at the sight of the empty tomb, the women were perplexed – at a loss – this does not compute – and suddenly two men in dazzling clothes, angels we are to understand, appear beside them. They go from confusion to terror, but the men calm them by connecting what they’re seeing now to what Jesus had told them before: “Why do you look for the living among the dead. He is not here, for he has risen. Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners, and be crucified, and on the third day rise again.” Luke goes on to tell us, “Then they – the women – remembered his words, and returning from the tomb, they told all this to the eleven and all the rest.”
“Remember” – an important word in Luke’s Gospel. A recurring theme in Luke’s account of the resurrection is that the followers of Jesus are reminded to remember, to remember what Jesus had taught them, to remember all they had experienced while Jesus walked among them, to remember the Hebrew Scriptures – Moses, the prophets, the Psalms - which were their Bible. Later, in the account of the two disciples meeting Jesus on the Emmaus road, as they walk Jesus interprets the words of Moses and all the prophets to them, and they remember all that was written there that pointed to Jesus. Later Jesus appeared to the eleven and reminded him, “These are my words that I spoke to you while I was still with you, that everything written about me in the law of Moses, the prophets, and the psalms must be fulfilled.” And when we are perplexed and overwhelmed, staggering under life’s burdens, we too can remember – remember that we worship a God who brings joy out of sorrow, hope out of despair, a way out of no way, life out of death.
Having been instructed by the angels at the tomb, the women, their confusion and terror now turned to joy, return to the disciples and tell all that they had witnessed to the apostles. We’re given some of their names – Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James. But the apostles brushed off their words as an idle tale – after all, aren’t women always having vapors and fainting and going into hysterics? Only Peter gave their words enough credibility to go and check things out for themselves. Peter saw the empty tomb and the linen cloths rolled up in a tidy bundle, and went home, amazed. So it was the women – Joanna and the Marys - who in effect were the apostles to the apostles. Having moved from fear to resurrection joy, they couldn’t stop themselves from telling the good news of the resurrection. And in our reading from Acts, we listen to Peter, speaking from his resurrection joy, telling Cornelius, the gentile Roman centurion – “We are witnesses to all that he did both in Judea and in Jerusalem. They put him to death on a tree, but God raised him on the third day and allowed him to appear, not to all the people but to us who were chosen by God as witnesses. He commanded us to preach to the people.…” and so Peter brought the message that, because of the crucified and risen Jesus, life, not death, has the last word.
“Why seek ye the living among the dead” – perhaps a dangerous text to preach in a church surrounded on two sides by a cemetery! And yet, like Peter and the other apostles, we have been chosen by God to share our resurrection joy, to share the good news that our sin no longer separates us from God, but has been crucified with Christ, that we, along with those whose names are memorialized in our cemetery, are called to eternal life. When this mortal body puts on immortality, then the saying that has been written will be fulfilled: “Death has been swallowed up in victory. Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?” The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.”
“Why seek the living among the dead.” Let us not focus our lives – our time, our energy, our devotion – on worldly wealth and power that passes. We are called to remember – to remember who God is and what God has done for us through Christ, to remember who we are, beloved children of a loving heavenly father. As we share the good news with those around us, Emanuel Church will continue to be a place filled with resurrection joy, a place overflowing with life and renewal for our beloved community of Bridesburg. Amen.
The Stones Would Cry Out (A Palm Sunday Sermon)
(Scriptures: Isaiah 50:4-9a, Psalm 118:1-2, 19-29
Philippians 2:5-11 Luke 19:28-40)
Today we celebrate Palm Sunday, and begin our Holy Week pilgrimage with Jesus to the cross. For the season of Lent, we have walked with Jesus through his earthly ministry, as he taught and healed and fed the multitudes. We have walked with Jesus as he was both adored and misunderstood by the crowds, and as he aroused both curiosity and rejection among the religious authorities. Today we begin the Holy Week journey: from the acclamation of the crowds to the plotting of the religious authorities, to a last supper with his followers, the betrayal by Judas, the desertion of the disciples, and the final walk to Golgotha. And as we look on Palm Sunday from our perspective, we see multiple layers of meaning and experience mixed emotions. The week begins with a parade, but we know there’s another type of procession coming on Friday.
This year’s Gospel for Palm Sunday comes from the Gospel according to Luke. Each of the Gospel writers tells the story of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem slightly differently, and Luke is no exception. One notable thing about Luke’s story of what we call Palm Sunday – there are no palm branches, but rather some among the crowds spreading their cloaks on the road as Jesus rode along, and the multitude of the disciples – not the crowds – shouting “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!” Luke paints a somewhat ambiguous picture of the reaction of the crowds to Jesus’ entry to the city – the disciples are enthusiastic, as are some among the crowds, but we also hear the voices of some Pharisees in the crowd, telling the disciples to pipe down. Jesus’ response to the Pharisees: if my disciples were quiet, even the stones themselves would cry out.
In Luke’s gospel, unlike those of Matthew and Mark, the story of Palm Sunday is immediately preceded by Jesus’ parable of the ten pounds, with its story of a nobleman leaving ten pounds in the hands of his ten servants, going to a distant country to be crowned king, and then after some time returning to learn what his servants had done with the money with which they’d been entrusted. Luke tells us that Jesus told this parable because the disciples thought the kingdom of God was to appear immediately, and Jesus was trying to tamp down their expectations of instant glory. From the disciples’ behavior, it appears they didn’t quite get the hint.
But then again, in every way, Jesus both fulfills Scripture and at the same time confounds and turns upside-down human ideas of glory. Jesus began his donkey ride from the Mount of Olives, where Zechariah 14:4 says that the Lord will stand when he rescues his people. The Old Testament book of Zechariah chapter 9 contains these words: “Rejoice greatly, O daughter Zion! Shout aloud, O daughter Jerusalem! Lo, your king comes to you, triumphant and victorious is he, humble and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.” Jesus’ supporters among the crowds got the “triumphant and victorious” part, but skipped right over the “humble” part. For the kingly authority of Jesus is very different from the domination system of political oppression and economic exploitation – all blessed by the religious establishment - that characterized the world of Jesus, where might made right, where most of the wealth was concentrated in the hands of a very few, and the poor were ground into the dust. Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem, like his entire life, was a rebuke to the domination system. Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan, in their book about Passion Week, titled “The Last Week”, paint a picture of two processions going on at roughly the same time. From the West, Pontius Pilate confidently riding into the city on a mighty war horse in all his imperial glory, surrounded by heavily-armed soldiers; from the East, Jesus humbly riding in on a donkey barely big enough for Jesus to avoid dragging his feet along in the ground, surrounded by a small band of noisy rabble. Jesus’ response to the rebuke of the Pharisees – if my disciples were quiet, the stones would cry out – is an echo of Habakkuk chapter 2:11, which also talks about the stones crying out – but in Habakkuk, the stones are crying out against the exploitation of the poor. And, indeed, our reading is followed by Jesus’ lament over Jerusalem, “If you, even you, had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace! But now they are hidden from your eyes.” So our reading from Luke is dense with layers of meaning.
From our perspective, we know what the rest of the week holds – escalating conflict with both the religious and political establishment, a final Passover meal with his disciples, betrayal in the garden, a hasty, unjust trial, and the cruel death of the cross. The week that begins with Jesus saying that, were his disciples silent, the stones would cry out; will later have the sun turning away its light from the horror of the crucifixion. We cannot get to Easter except through Good Friday, when human sin and the powers of darkness do their worst, submitting the Savior of the World to the cruel, shameful, degrading death of the cross, over his head the ironic title, “The King of the Jews” – a warning to all passersby who would oppose the mighty power of Rome.
Today, some 2000 years later, we still live in a world where all too often, might makes right, money talks with a very loud voice, and the things that make for peace are still hidden from our eyes. We still live in a world so unjust that it’s a wonder that the stones themselves don’t cry out, and all too often those who work for justice are crushed to the ground. And in our individual lives, in our moments of challenge and loss, hope may sometimes desert us. We may be tempted to give into despair. But God has promised that he will never leave us nor forsake us. Through the darkest night, God is working God’s purpose out, for us and for his kingdom. If we are faithful to God’s call, we’ll find that each of us has a cross to bear. We still live, all too often, in a Good Friday world……but Sunday’s coming. Amen.
Philippians 2:5-11 Luke 19:28-40)
Today we celebrate Palm Sunday, and begin our Holy Week pilgrimage with Jesus to the cross. For the season of Lent, we have walked with Jesus through his earthly ministry, as he taught and healed and fed the multitudes. We have walked with Jesus as he was both adored and misunderstood by the crowds, and as he aroused both curiosity and rejection among the religious authorities. Today we begin the Holy Week journey: from the acclamation of the crowds to the plotting of the religious authorities, to a last supper with his followers, the betrayal by Judas, the desertion of the disciples, and the final walk to Golgotha. And as we look on Palm Sunday from our perspective, we see multiple layers of meaning and experience mixed emotions. The week begins with a parade, but we know there’s another type of procession coming on Friday.
This year’s Gospel for Palm Sunday comes from the Gospel according to Luke. Each of the Gospel writers tells the story of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem slightly differently, and Luke is no exception. One notable thing about Luke’s story of what we call Palm Sunday – there are no palm branches, but rather some among the crowds spreading their cloaks on the road as Jesus rode along, and the multitude of the disciples – not the crowds – shouting “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!” Luke paints a somewhat ambiguous picture of the reaction of the crowds to Jesus’ entry to the city – the disciples are enthusiastic, as are some among the crowds, but we also hear the voices of some Pharisees in the crowd, telling the disciples to pipe down. Jesus’ response to the Pharisees: if my disciples were quiet, even the stones themselves would cry out.
In Luke’s gospel, unlike those of Matthew and Mark, the story of Palm Sunday is immediately preceded by Jesus’ parable of the ten pounds, with its story of a nobleman leaving ten pounds in the hands of his ten servants, going to a distant country to be crowned king, and then after some time returning to learn what his servants had done with the money with which they’d been entrusted. Luke tells us that Jesus told this parable because the disciples thought the kingdom of God was to appear immediately, and Jesus was trying to tamp down their expectations of instant glory. From the disciples’ behavior, it appears they didn’t quite get the hint.
But then again, in every way, Jesus both fulfills Scripture and at the same time confounds and turns upside-down human ideas of glory. Jesus began his donkey ride from the Mount of Olives, where Zechariah 14:4 says that the Lord will stand when he rescues his people. The Old Testament book of Zechariah chapter 9 contains these words: “Rejoice greatly, O daughter Zion! Shout aloud, O daughter Jerusalem! Lo, your king comes to you, triumphant and victorious is he, humble and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.” Jesus’ supporters among the crowds got the “triumphant and victorious” part, but skipped right over the “humble” part. For the kingly authority of Jesus is very different from the domination system of political oppression and economic exploitation – all blessed by the religious establishment - that characterized the world of Jesus, where might made right, where most of the wealth was concentrated in the hands of a very few, and the poor were ground into the dust. Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem, like his entire life, was a rebuke to the domination system. Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan, in their book about Passion Week, titled “The Last Week”, paint a picture of two processions going on at roughly the same time. From the West, Pontius Pilate confidently riding into the city on a mighty war horse in all his imperial glory, surrounded by heavily-armed soldiers; from the East, Jesus humbly riding in on a donkey barely big enough for Jesus to avoid dragging his feet along in the ground, surrounded by a small band of noisy rabble. Jesus’ response to the rebuke of the Pharisees – if my disciples were quiet, the stones would cry out – is an echo of Habakkuk chapter 2:11, which also talks about the stones crying out – but in Habakkuk, the stones are crying out against the exploitation of the poor. And, indeed, our reading is followed by Jesus’ lament over Jerusalem, “If you, even you, had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace! But now they are hidden from your eyes.” So our reading from Luke is dense with layers of meaning.
From our perspective, we know what the rest of the week holds – escalating conflict with both the religious and political establishment, a final Passover meal with his disciples, betrayal in the garden, a hasty, unjust trial, and the cruel death of the cross. The week that begins with Jesus saying that, were his disciples silent, the stones would cry out; will later have the sun turning away its light from the horror of the crucifixion. We cannot get to Easter except through Good Friday, when human sin and the powers of darkness do their worst, submitting the Savior of the World to the cruel, shameful, degrading death of the cross, over his head the ironic title, “The King of the Jews” – a warning to all passersby who would oppose the mighty power of Rome.
Today, some 2000 years later, we still live in a world where all too often, might makes right, money talks with a very loud voice, and the things that make for peace are still hidden from our eyes. We still live in a world so unjust that it’s a wonder that the stones themselves don’t cry out, and all too often those who work for justice are crushed to the ground. And in our individual lives, in our moments of challenge and loss, hope may sometimes desert us. We may be tempted to give into despair. But God has promised that he will never leave us nor forsake us. Through the darkest night, God is working God’s purpose out, for us and for his kingdom. If we are faithful to God’s call, we’ll find that each of us has a cross to bear. We still live, all too often, in a Good Friday world……but Sunday’s coming. Amen.
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