“After [Jesus’] suffering he presented himself alive to them by many convincing proofs, appearing to them during forty days and speaking about the kingdom of God. While staying with them, he ordered them not to leave Jerusalem, but to wait there for the promise of the Father. (Acts 1:3-4a, NRSV)
We find ourselves in that “in-between” time of waiting between Christ’s resurrection and ascension. During the 40 days between the resurrection and ascension, Scripture records a number of appearances of Christ to his followers; among them are his appearances to the women at the tomb, to the two travelers on the Emmaus road (Luke 24:13-35), to his disciples huddled behind locked doors for fear of the religious authorities, and to Peter, Thomas, James, John, Nathanael, and other disciples by the Sea of Tiberias (John 20:19-30; John 21:1-23). These appearances are fleeting, and the Scriptures describing them convey a sense of transience, a sense that time is growing short, and that Jesus must use this limited time to prepare his followers to carry on the work of the Kingdom after Christ’s ascension. It’s a transitional period, during which the work of Jesus becomes the work of the early church. Jesus tells his followers to remain in Jerusalem. They would soon receive the Holy Spirit, and with the spirit would come the power to turn the world upside down with the power of the Gospel – but the Spirit had not yet come, and so they were to wait.
As followers of Jesus we frequently find ourselves steering a course between two false choices. One of these is to act in a spirit of religious triumphalism, to be so confident in the power of our own righteousness that we find no need to rely on the power that comes from God. That path leads to religious bigotry and persecution. The other false choice is to deny that God has given us any power at all, and therefore to be too timid to risk stepping outside the doors of the church to minister in God’s name to our neighbors. That path leads us to hide the light God has given us under a bushel, and to bury our God-given talents. We must avoid both these false choices, and follow the path of humble reliance on the strength God provides us each day. When we follow this path, we approach our neighbors, not as religious bullies using our presumed righteousness to beat them over the head, but as humble servants ministering to them in God’s name. For the light we bear comes not from us, but from God; it shines through us like bright sunlight shining through a stained glass window, creating beauty to inspire anyone with eyes to see it.
‘This,’ [Jesus] said, ‘is what you have heard from me; for John baptized with water, but you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit not many days from now.’” (Acts 1:4b-5, NRSV)
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Peace Be With You!
Passion week has come and gone. We've read of the cheering crowds on Palm Sunday, that one last supper with our Saviour, the betrayal and desertion of Good Friday, and the Alleluias of Easter Sunday.
Now what? Where do we go from here?
In the weeks following the resurrection, the disciples - all of whom in their varied ways had deserted Jesus - asked the same question. Jesus lives! But what did that mean for the disciples? Would Jesus be angry? Would he hold their failure against them?
Jesus offered, not chastisement, but reconciliation. Christ's words, "Peace be with you" and "receive the Holy Spirit", his commissioning them and sending them out as messengers, were the very last words they deserved to hear, and the very words they most needed to hear.
Those words are not only for those disciples, but for us. Despite our own failings and evasions, Jesus never gives up on us. May we have ears to hear Christ's words of reconciliation and hands and feet to respond.
Now what? Where do we go from here?
In the weeks following the resurrection, the disciples - all of whom in their varied ways had deserted Jesus - asked the same question. Jesus lives! But what did that mean for the disciples? Would Jesus be angry? Would he hold their failure against them?
Jesus offered, not chastisement, but reconciliation. Christ's words, "Peace be with you" and "receive the Holy Spirit", his commissioning them and sending them out as messengers, were the very last words they deserved to hear, and the very words they most needed to hear.
Those words are not only for those disciples, but for us. Despite our own failings and evasions, Jesus never gives up on us. May we have ears to hear Christ's words of reconciliation and hands and feet to respond.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Chosen by God
Several years ago I had the great privilege to visit Rome for several days. Of course, I looked forward to seeing the Vatican, to touring the Sistine Chapel and the other Vatican galleries, and even to walking through excavations beneath the current Vatican, to sublayers that dated back to the time of Constantine, and even to a small marble enclosure that was said to contain the remains of the Apostle Peter. I actually got to see the current Pope, Benedict XVI – he was way up in a top floor window in the Vatican complex, looking down at the crowd in St. Peter’s Square – from his window he conducted the Angelus liturgy, and I heard him preach for a brief time and convey greetings in various languages, all amplified by the loudspeakers in St. Peter’s Square.
One other thing I looked forward to doing was – eating. Mangia! I enjoyed wonderful meals at a number of restaurants. Before my trip, friends had informed me that, in Italy, wait staff do not expect tips as they do here in the States. I kept that in mind for most of my visit – and I certainly didn’t object to being able to hang onto a bit more of my ever-dwindling stash of Euros - but at one restaurant I forgot myself and left a generous tip. After leaving the restaurant, I quickly returned to pick up a jacket I’d left behind….and found the manager and wait staff circling the table where I’d sat, my tip still on the table, as they gestured at it and earnestly discussed amongst themselves what to do with it. I wasn’t used to the customs of eating out in Italy, and they were flummoxed by my following the customs of tipping to which I’m accustomed.
Our Gospel reading today portrays the disciples and Mary Magdalene in a state of being flummoxed by God’s resurrection life, perhaps not entirely unlike my Italian wait staff was at my lapse of leaving a tip. Jesus – their rabbi, teacher, mentor, and dear friend – had just been executed in the most gruesome, degrading manner possible in that day. For Rome, crucifixion was not just about killing an individual enemy of the state, but also about terrorizing and intimidating sympathizers. The executed person was in effect turned into a gruesome billboard advertising Rome’s absolute power. Crucified with the words “Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews” above his head, the mutilated body of Christ was turned into a hideous public service announcement of sorts – “set yourself up as a rival to all-powerful Caesar, and you’ll end up on a cross just like this one.” The lifeless body of Jesus had been claimed by Joseph of Arimethea and laid in a tomb, and a large stone rolled in front, to keep away grave robbers and wild animals that might move or attack the body.
Mark’s version (Mark 16:1-8) of the Easter story reads as follows – it’s quite short: "When the sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices, so that they might go and anoint him. And very early on the first day of the week, when the sun had risen, they went to the tomb. They had been saying to one another, “Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance to the tomb?” When they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had already been rolled back. As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man, dressed in a white robe, sitting on the right side; and they were alarmed. But he said to them, “Do not be alarmed; you are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised; he is not here. Look, there is the place they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him, just as he told you.” So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid. John’s Gospel (John 20:1-18) says that Mary Magdalene - Mark includes Mary the mother of James and Salome – go to the tomb early Sunday morning. Mark’s gospel says that the women came to bring spices to anoint the body, and were concerned that they might not be able to move the large stone. So far, all is going according to their customs for burial.
But now, from their point of view, the story goes off the rails. The women find themselves flummoxed, without a frame of reference for what happens next. The come to the tomb and find the stone rolled away, the tomb empty. Not unlike the waiters at whom I inadvertently threw a curve ball with my tip, the women don’t know what to do with an empty tomb. God had thrown them a curve ball. Mark’s Gospel has a young man in a white cloth – no doubt an angel – telling the women that Jesus has been raised, and to tell the disciples to meet Jesus in Galilee. According to Bible scholars, the earliest texts of Mark’s gospel end with the women fleeing in terror from their encounter with the angel in the empty tomb; any verses in Mark 16 that follow verse 8 are thought to be additions by later writers that attempted to bring the sense of closure that Mark’s original open ending lacks. John’s Gospel – written later - gives us more of a sense of completion – Mary calls Peter and the beloved disciple – traditionally thought to be the writer of John’s Gospel – who see the empty tomb…and go home. They weren’t sure what to do with God’s resurrection grace either. Mary lingers at the tomb, and encounters two angels and the Risen Christ himself, who tells her to tell the disciples of Jesus’ resurrection.
What do you do with an empty tomb? From our perspective, with the resurrection story so embedded in our culture – we know that Easter Sunday follows Good Friday as predictably as the sun rising in the East and setting in the West - it may be hard to imagine the absolute shock and terror and bafflement of that first Easter morning. Eventually all that will be transformed into the awe and wonder and adoration that has been passed down through the centuries to us, but I think we lose some of the impact of the story if we experience Easter Sunday as an uplifting but utterly predictable day on the liturgical calendar – complete with stained glass windows and lilies and organ music – and are made numb to the absolute unpredictability – the absolutely lost-for-words, no frame of reference experience - of God’s resurrection power in the lives of those first disciples.
I suspect we all go through experiences like those of the disciples. Tragic events, or perhaps our own sinful choices bring us to a place in which hope within us has died. We feel boxed in by our past. Our circumstances, or perhaps our past sin, loom before us like an immovable boulder. We feel trapped by the past inside a dark, airless tomb, shut out from the light of God’s love, from any hope of change for the better. Our expectations for the future are dismally low. At most, we hope that perhaps someone – a family member, a friend, a counselor, a therapist - can come to help us hang on a bit longer – so that our circumstances won’t get even worse - somewhat like the women coming with their spices for Jesus' lifeless body….the spices could offer only preservation, not resurrection.
The women came and found that God had rolled away the stone. God through Christ also rolls away the stones that stand between us and the resurrection life Christ offers. Christ calls each of us by name – Lazarus, come forth!….calls every man, woman and child by name out of our tombs of sin and loss and despair and hopelessness into the bright sunlight of God’s resurrection life, in which we walk in the sun to whatever tomorrows God grants us.In John’s version of the Easter story Mary stood outside the tomb, weeping. Mary’s tears blind her from recognizing the risen Jesus even when he’s talking to her – she thought he was the gardener. It was when Jesus called her by name – Mary – that she realizes who she’s talking to. She wants to hang onto the moment – who wouldn’t – but Jesus says, “Don’t hold onto me…go to my brothers and say to them, “I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.”
Christ calls us by name out of our tombs of despair into the bright sunlight of the garden, but we’re not allowed to hang around for long. We’re called forth, not to linger in the garden, but to go to our brothers and sisters to witness to what we’ve experienced. In Peter’s words, we’re “chosen by God as witnesses…commanded to testify that Christ is the one ordained by God as judge of the living and the dead, that everyone who believes in him will receive forgiveness of sins through his name.” So in gratitude let us be up and doing. May each of us be able to say, with the Apostle Paul, “By the grace of God, we are what we are, and God’s grace toward us has not been in vain.”
One other thing I looked forward to doing was – eating. Mangia! I enjoyed wonderful meals at a number of restaurants. Before my trip, friends had informed me that, in Italy, wait staff do not expect tips as they do here in the States. I kept that in mind for most of my visit – and I certainly didn’t object to being able to hang onto a bit more of my ever-dwindling stash of Euros - but at one restaurant I forgot myself and left a generous tip. After leaving the restaurant, I quickly returned to pick up a jacket I’d left behind….and found the manager and wait staff circling the table where I’d sat, my tip still on the table, as they gestured at it and earnestly discussed amongst themselves what to do with it. I wasn’t used to the customs of eating out in Italy, and they were flummoxed by my following the customs of tipping to which I’m accustomed.
Our Gospel reading today portrays the disciples and Mary Magdalene in a state of being flummoxed by God’s resurrection life, perhaps not entirely unlike my Italian wait staff was at my lapse of leaving a tip. Jesus – their rabbi, teacher, mentor, and dear friend – had just been executed in the most gruesome, degrading manner possible in that day. For Rome, crucifixion was not just about killing an individual enemy of the state, but also about terrorizing and intimidating sympathizers. The executed person was in effect turned into a gruesome billboard advertising Rome’s absolute power. Crucified with the words “Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews” above his head, the mutilated body of Christ was turned into a hideous public service announcement of sorts – “set yourself up as a rival to all-powerful Caesar, and you’ll end up on a cross just like this one.” The lifeless body of Jesus had been claimed by Joseph of Arimethea and laid in a tomb, and a large stone rolled in front, to keep away grave robbers and wild animals that might move or attack the body.
Mark’s version (Mark 16:1-8) of the Easter story reads as follows – it’s quite short: "When the sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices, so that they might go and anoint him. And very early on the first day of the week, when the sun had risen, they went to the tomb. They had been saying to one another, “Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance to the tomb?” When they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had already been rolled back. As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man, dressed in a white robe, sitting on the right side; and they were alarmed. But he said to them, “Do not be alarmed; you are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised; he is not here. Look, there is the place they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him, just as he told you.” So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid. John’s Gospel (John 20:1-18) says that Mary Magdalene - Mark includes Mary the mother of James and Salome – go to the tomb early Sunday morning. Mark’s gospel says that the women came to bring spices to anoint the body, and were concerned that they might not be able to move the large stone. So far, all is going according to their customs for burial.
But now, from their point of view, the story goes off the rails. The women find themselves flummoxed, without a frame of reference for what happens next. The come to the tomb and find the stone rolled away, the tomb empty. Not unlike the waiters at whom I inadvertently threw a curve ball with my tip, the women don’t know what to do with an empty tomb. God had thrown them a curve ball. Mark’s Gospel has a young man in a white cloth – no doubt an angel – telling the women that Jesus has been raised, and to tell the disciples to meet Jesus in Galilee. According to Bible scholars, the earliest texts of Mark’s gospel end with the women fleeing in terror from their encounter with the angel in the empty tomb; any verses in Mark 16 that follow verse 8 are thought to be additions by later writers that attempted to bring the sense of closure that Mark’s original open ending lacks. John’s Gospel – written later - gives us more of a sense of completion – Mary calls Peter and the beloved disciple – traditionally thought to be the writer of John’s Gospel – who see the empty tomb…and go home. They weren’t sure what to do with God’s resurrection grace either. Mary lingers at the tomb, and encounters two angels and the Risen Christ himself, who tells her to tell the disciples of Jesus’ resurrection.
What do you do with an empty tomb? From our perspective, with the resurrection story so embedded in our culture – we know that Easter Sunday follows Good Friday as predictably as the sun rising in the East and setting in the West - it may be hard to imagine the absolute shock and terror and bafflement of that first Easter morning. Eventually all that will be transformed into the awe and wonder and adoration that has been passed down through the centuries to us, but I think we lose some of the impact of the story if we experience Easter Sunday as an uplifting but utterly predictable day on the liturgical calendar – complete with stained glass windows and lilies and organ music – and are made numb to the absolute unpredictability – the absolutely lost-for-words, no frame of reference experience - of God’s resurrection power in the lives of those first disciples.
I suspect we all go through experiences like those of the disciples. Tragic events, or perhaps our own sinful choices bring us to a place in which hope within us has died. We feel boxed in by our past. Our circumstances, or perhaps our past sin, loom before us like an immovable boulder. We feel trapped by the past inside a dark, airless tomb, shut out from the light of God’s love, from any hope of change for the better. Our expectations for the future are dismally low. At most, we hope that perhaps someone – a family member, a friend, a counselor, a therapist - can come to help us hang on a bit longer – so that our circumstances won’t get even worse - somewhat like the women coming with their spices for Jesus' lifeless body….the spices could offer only preservation, not resurrection.
The women came and found that God had rolled away the stone. God through Christ also rolls away the stones that stand between us and the resurrection life Christ offers. Christ calls each of us by name – Lazarus, come forth!….calls every man, woman and child by name out of our tombs of sin and loss and despair and hopelessness into the bright sunlight of God’s resurrection life, in which we walk in the sun to whatever tomorrows God grants us.In John’s version of the Easter story Mary stood outside the tomb, weeping. Mary’s tears blind her from recognizing the risen Jesus even when he’s talking to her – she thought he was the gardener. It was when Jesus called her by name – Mary – that she realizes who she’s talking to. She wants to hang onto the moment – who wouldn’t – but Jesus says, “Don’t hold onto me…go to my brothers and say to them, “I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.”
Christ calls us by name out of our tombs of despair into the bright sunlight of the garden, but we’re not allowed to hang around for long. We’re called forth, not to linger in the garden, but to go to our brothers and sisters to witness to what we’ve experienced. In Peter’s words, we’re “chosen by God as witnesses…commanded to testify that Christ is the one ordained by God as judge of the living and the dead, that everyone who believes in him will receive forgiveness of sins through his name.” So in gratitude let us be up and doing. May each of us be able to say, with the Apostle Paul, “By the grace of God, we are what we are, and God’s grace toward us has not been in vain.”
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Everyone Loves A Parade?
Today we 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.
Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem (Mark 11:1-11) had similarities to those of other national figures. The writer Josephus records the Jewish hero Judas Maccabeus riding triumphantly into Jerusalem after battles for Jewish independence. By contrast, foreign rulers also rode into Jerusalem as a way to assert their authority. So Jesus’ entrance would have held political overtones for those watching.
For Jewish viewers, there would have been prophetic overtones as well. Our Old Testament reading this morning was from the prophet Zechariah. The first eight chapters of Zechariah are concerned with the rebuilding and restoration of the Temple in the time of Zerubbabel, after the return from exile. But from the 9th chapter on, the book transitions into a series of prophetic visions about the coming Day of the Lord. It seems that Zechariah saw the rebuilding of the Temple as the beginning of a transformation of the entire world, in which Judah would be saved from her enemies, and those who had formerly battled against Judah would come up to Jerusalem to worship the Lord. And the setup for Jesus’ entry echoes Zechariah’s words. Zechariah 14:4 begins with the words, “On that day [the Lord’s] feet will stand on the Mount of Olives, which lies before Jerusalem to the east….” Mark tells us that Jesus began his approach from the Mount of Olives. Jesus also rides on a young colt, in accordance to today’s Zechariah reading. The crowds would have known these prophecies of Zechariah, and would have put their hopes in Jesus.
Zechariah’s visions go a good bit further, and explain why the crowds would have look in Jesus as an earthly ruler seeking to free the Jews from Roman rule. Today’s reading also contains these words: “His dominion shall be from sea to sea, and from the River to the ends of the earth.” As Christians, we know that God’s kingdom does indeed extend to the ends of the earth, but not in the sense the crowds expected.
The ending of the account of the triumphal entry isn’t what the crowds would have expected either. Having rode in triumph down Jerusalem’s main street, with crowds cheering and shouting “Save us!” – that’s what Hosanna means - and casting their palm branches and clothes in his way – not unlike spectators at a rock concert – Jesus…..went into the Temple, took a look around, and went with the disciples to spend the night with friends in Bethany. His relations with the religious establishment in Jerusalem went straight downhill from there. Far from taking on the Roman oppressors, Jesus took on the Jewish religious leaders, throwing the money changers out of the Temple and speaking harshly against their leadership. By contrast, he gave an ambiguous answer to a question about the propriety of paying taxes to Caesar. What kind of national liberator was this?
As happens so often, in Jesus, God’s promises were being fulfilled, but not in the way people expected. People were eager for a national hero, another Judas Maccabeus fighting against Rome for Jewish independence. What they got was the God of all creation bringing liberation from sin and establishment of God’s kingdom on earth.
This can be a caution for us who read this story from our perspective after the resurrection. We sincerely seek for God’s help and guidance, but we have limited ideas of how God may respond We want something big, something bombastic, some unmistakeable sign that indicates that God is with us. But paradoxically, while God’s plans are always bigger than ours, God’s methods are often small and slow and subtle. We look for God in the earthquake and the windstorm, but find God in the still small voice. Nowhere did Jesus say, “the kingdom of heaven is like unto a sledgehammer.” Rather, Jesus gave us parables about seeds growing in secret, about tiny mustard seeds slowly growing into big giant bushes, about tiny bits of yeast leavening a loaf. We receive teachings that a seed has to go into the ground and die in order to bring forth new life. And in Jesus, we get, not a general leading a mighty army, but God in the form of a humble servant so committed to accomplishing God’s purposes that he was willing to submit to death, even to death on a cross.
Of course, this side of the cross, we know that for Jesus, life, not death, has the last word; that crucifixion gives way to resurrection. We hope that for ourselves as well. But so often in our moments of challenge and loss, hope deserts us. We give in to 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. In our most difficult moments, we may get some slight sense of what Jesus went through on Good Friday. But remember, no matter what happens on Friday – Sunday’s coming. Amen.
Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem (Mark 11:1-11) had similarities to those of other national figures. The writer Josephus records the Jewish hero Judas Maccabeus riding triumphantly into Jerusalem after battles for Jewish independence. By contrast, foreign rulers also rode into Jerusalem as a way to assert their authority. So Jesus’ entrance would have held political overtones for those watching.
For Jewish viewers, there would have been prophetic overtones as well. Our Old Testament reading this morning was from the prophet Zechariah. The first eight chapters of Zechariah are concerned with the rebuilding and restoration of the Temple in the time of Zerubbabel, after the return from exile. But from the 9th chapter on, the book transitions into a series of prophetic visions about the coming Day of the Lord. It seems that Zechariah saw the rebuilding of the Temple as the beginning of a transformation of the entire world, in which Judah would be saved from her enemies, and those who had formerly battled against Judah would come up to Jerusalem to worship the Lord. And the setup for Jesus’ entry echoes Zechariah’s words. Zechariah 14:4 begins with the words, “On that day [the Lord’s] feet will stand on the Mount of Olives, which lies before Jerusalem to the east….” Mark tells us that Jesus began his approach from the Mount of Olives. Jesus also rides on a young colt, in accordance to today’s Zechariah reading. The crowds would have known these prophecies of Zechariah, and would have put their hopes in Jesus.
Zechariah’s visions go a good bit further, and explain why the crowds would have look in Jesus as an earthly ruler seeking to free the Jews from Roman rule. Today’s reading also contains these words: “His dominion shall be from sea to sea, and from the River to the ends of the earth.” As Christians, we know that God’s kingdom does indeed extend to the ends of the earth, but not in the sense the crowds expected.
The ending of the account of the triumphal entry isn’t what the crowds would have expected either. Having rode in triumph down Jerusalem’s main street, with crowds cheering and shouting “Save us!” – that’s what Hosanna means - and casting their palm branches and clothes in his way – not unlike spectators at a rock concert – Jesus…..went into the Temple, took a look around, and went with the disciples to spend the night with friends in Bethany. His relations with the religious establishment in Jerusalem went straight downhill from there. Far from taking on the Roman oppressors, Jesus took on the Jewish religious leaders, throwing the money changers out of the Temple and speaking harshly against their leadership. By contrast, he gave an ambiguous answer to a question about the propriety of paying taxes to Caesar. What kind of national liberator was this?
As happens so often, in Jesus, God’s promises were being fulfilled, but not in the way people expected. People were eager for a national hero, another Judas Maccabeus fighting against Rome for Jewish independence. What they got was the God of all creation bringing liberation from sin and establishment of God’s kingdom on earth.
This can be a caution for us who read this story from our perspective after the resurrection. We sincerely seek for God’s help and guidance, but we have limited ideas of how God may respond We want something big, something bombastic, some unmistakeable sign that indicates that God is with us. But paradoxically, while God’s plans are always bigger than ours, God’s methods are often small and slow and subtle. We look for God in the earthquake and the windstorm, but find God in the still small voice. Nowhere did Jesus say, “the kingdom of heaven is like unto a sledgehammer.” Rather, Jesus gave us parables about seeds growing in secret, about tiny mustard seeds slowly growing into big giant bushes, about tiny bits of yeast leavening a loaf. We receive teachings that a seed has to go into the ground and die in order to bring forth new life. And in Jesus, we get, not a general leading a mighty army, but God in the form of a humble servant so committed to accomplishing God’s purposes that he was willing to submit to death, even to death on a cross.
Of course, this side of the cross, we know that for Jesus, life, not death, has the last word; that crucifixion gives way to resurrection. We hope that for ourselves as well. But so often in our moments of challenge and loss, hope deserts us. We give in to 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. In our most difficult moments, we may get some slight sense of what Jesus went through on Good Friday. But remember, no matter what happens on Friday – Sunday’s coming. Amen.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
We Would See Jesus
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.
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.
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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