Hidden

Scriptures:       Isaiah 50:4-9a             Psalm 118:1-2, 19-29

Philippians 2:1-11        Luke 19:28-48

Today is Palm Sunday, when we remember Jesus’s triumphal entry into Jerusalem – which set off the chain of events which led to his betrayal, arrest, and crucifixion on Good Friday.  It’s a day full of ambiguity, with cheers from the crowds that we know – and Jesus knew too – would be short-lived.

Luke’s account has much in common with the accounts in the other gospels – Jesus’ disciples borrowing a colt, and Jesus riding this borrowed colt into the city.  But actually, the account in Luke’s gospel is slightly different from those of the other Gospels.  For one thing, Luke appears to have forgotten the palms; he speaks of onlookers spreading their cloaks on the road in front of Jesus, but makes no mention of palms.  Another difference – while the other gospels speak of the crowds cheering and shouting, in Luke’s gospel, it’s really just the disciples of Jesus – as Luke says, “the whole multitude of the disciples”, some going ahead of Jesus and some following behind Jesus, who are making the noise.  Surely others were looking on, but we don’t hear much from them…

…Except we do hear from some Pharisees, who tell Jesus to make his disciples pipe down.  “Teacher, order your disciples to stop!”  And Jesus responds by telling them basically, “I couldn’t stop them if I tried; if they were silent, the stones would shout out!”

Why are the Pharisees so cranky?  It’s not just a desire to rain on Jesus’ little parade.  Remember that these events took place in the days leading up to the Jewish Passover, the celebration of liberation from slavery in Egypt.  The Passover was a time of tension in Jerusalem, both because of the many visitors who would have been in the city, and because Rome would have been exerting heavy-handed crowd control, lest the Passover account of liberation from Egypt give the people any funny ideas about rebelling against Rome.  The Pharisees were concerned that anything vaguely resembling a rebellion against Rome would bring down the wrath of Rome on them like a ton of bricks.  And certainly, Jesus’ riding into town, with his disciples calling him “the king who comes in the name of the Lord”, would have sounded suspicious to Roman ears, for whom there was no king but Caesar.  So the Pharisees, from their point of view, were entirely justified in urging Jesus not to let his followers stir up trouble.

Indeed, in their book “The Last Week”, theologians Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan say that there actually would have been two parades going on that day.  Pontius Pilate, the local governor, would have ridden into Jerusalem from the west to pacify the local population – by means of intimidation and threats of force.  Pilate would have ridden into town on a magnificent warhorse, with his officials carrying banners and his troops carrying weapons, in a display of the empire’s power, just to remind the locals who’s boss, who’s in charge.  And on the other end of town, from the east, Jesus rides into town in what seems like a parody of the empire’s power – no weapons, the cloaks of peasants instead of the banners of empire, and Jesus riding, instead of a warhorse, the colt of a donkey, his feet probably dragging along the ground.   It was a nonviolent act, but provocative, just the same, in which Jesus at the same time thumbed his nose at Rome’s power, while demonstrating that he would be a very different kind of leader, bringing a peace that doesn’t need to be enforced with banners and weapons and intimidation.  Jesus wouldn’t be in town for long before he engaged in another provocative demonstration, not against Rome, but against the Temple, or more specifically those who were selling animals for sacrifice at inflated prices, thus exploiting the poor who came to sacrifice there.  Jesus told the moneychangers and sellers of animals, “It is written, ‘My house shall be a house of prayer, but you’ve turned it into a den of robbers.’”  So in just a short time, Jesus managed to poke a thumb in the eyes of both Rome and the temple leadership.  No wonder that both the Temple leadership and the local Roman authorities turned against him.

But while all four gospels tell of Jesus riding into Jerusalem, and Matthew’s and Mark’s gospels also tell us about Jesus driving the moneychangers out of the Temple, only Luke’s gospel captures the brief moment, while Jesus is riding but before he enters the Temple, in which he weeps over the city.  “If you, even you, had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace. But now they are hidden from your eyes.”  

“The things that make for peace”….as those who were with us on Wednesday night know, that phrase has stuck in my mind this week.  It’s ironic that both Pilate, riding in with his warhorse and his retinue of officers and banners and weapons, and Jesus, riding in on a donkey attended by his ragtag followers, both came to Jerusalem for the purpose of bringing peace.  It’s easy to recognize the kind of peace Pilate intended – a peace imposed by intimidation and brute force.  But Jesus came to bring a different kind of peace – a peace that was disruptive, that wasn’t intimidated by the authority of Rome and that felt God’s temple should be a place of liberation, not exploitation.  Jesus brought a peace that came from living in alignment with God’s purposes, a peace that begins within individual hearts but does not stay there, but rather moves beyond the individual to transform society.

As is true so often with Scripture, it may be  helpful to ask ourselves, “Where do we find ourselves in the story?”  Probably not as Jesus – there’s only one Jesus.  But do we find ourselves with the followers of Jesus, helping spread the message?  With the Pharisees, acting out of fear to try to quiet things down?  With the Romans, offended by Jesus’ demonstrations and misunderstanding his message?  With the Temple authorities, scandalized by Jesus pointing out their corruption and greed?   With the crowds, looking on, but not understanding what’s going on?

Do we recognize on this day the things that make for peace?  Everybody wants peace, but everybody has different ideas about how to get there.  In what, or in whom, do we put our trust?   If Jesus were to ride down Pennsylvania Avenue in Washington DC – or past the capitol in Harrisburg, or past our own City Hall, what would he be saying?  Would Jesus be weeping over Philadelphia, over Harrisburg, over the White House and Congress and the Supreme Court, saying “If you, even you, had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace”?  Are they hidden from our eyes?  Is it Christ’s peace that we seek, or Pilate’s?

May Jesus’ words open our eyes, as he tried to open the eyes of those in Jerusalem, to the things that truly make for peace.  May the peace of Christ be with us, and through our example may others be led to Christ’s peace that passes all understanding, that cannot be imposed by weapons and armaments, but comes from living in alignment with God’s purposes for us.  May our lives be, not a betrayal but a fulfillment of Christ’s message of peace.  Amen.

 

What Time Is It?

Scriptures:       Isaiah 43:16-21, Psalm 126

Philippians 3:4b-14,  John 11:55-57, 12:1-11

What time is it?  Our service started at 10 o’clock as usual, but because of setting the clocks ahead an hour, 10 o’clock got here an hour earlier than normal, and it felt like 9 o’clock.  (To me too.)   For the next week or so, we’re probably going to be checking our watches more than usual until our bodies catch up with Daylight Savings Time.

Today’s Scripture readings seem to have little in common – a prophecy of coming good news for Israel – echoed in our Psalm - the story of Mary anointing the feet of Jesus, and Paul’s testimony that he gave up everything to follow Christ – and found Christ to be worth more than all he had left behind.  One theme that binds the readings together, though, is the question, “What time is it?”  Not clock time, of course.  But in Scripture, there are two types of time.  There’s chronos time, the time of the clock – and that’s not what these readings are about.  Rather, the readings speak of kairos time, God’s time, the time in which God is at work in the world.  And so,  when we’re talking about kairos time, to ask “What time is it?” is really to ask, “What is God doing in the world, what is God doing in this situation?  And to ask the question is to recognize that God’s action in the world is not always easy to recognize.

Our reading from Isaiah was written during the Jewish exile in Babylon. God’s people were in a strange land among hostile people.  Some bought into the ways of the Babylonians, but others tried hard to hang onto their traditions – but found it difficult and painful.  “How can we sing the Lord’s song in a strange land,” they asked.   Some were on the verge of giving into despair.  They looked back on God’s saving acts in delivering the ancient Hebrews from slavery in Egypt – but they needed God’s help now.  What had God done for them lately?  Had God forgotten them? 

In response, Isaiah recalled the ancient account of the deliverance of the Hebrews from Egypt – but then says, shockingly, “Do not remember the former things, or consider the things of old.”  Forget about all that, God says, at least put it aside for the moment.  Isaiah, speaking for God, goes on:  “I am about to do a new thing, now it springs forth; can’t you see it?”  The “new thing” God is about to do, of course, is to bring the Jews back out of Babylon and into their own land. In writing that God was about to do a new thing, Isaiah was telling his listeners that God’s people were in a kairos moment, a moment in which God was going to do something special for God’s people – and that it was time to shake off their discouragement and pay attention.

In his letter to the Philippians, Paul speaks of the “new thing” that God had done in his life.  Paul basically gives us his resume:  “circumcised on the eighth day, a member of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew born of Hebrews; as to the law, a Pharisee; as to zeal, a persecutor of the church; as to righteousness under the law, blameless.”  But, following his visionary encounter with Christ on the Damascus road, Paul recognized that he was in a kairos moment, a time in which God was doing a new thing.  And in response, he left his resume behind:  “Yet whatever gains I had, these I have come to regard as loss because of Christ. More than that, I regard everything as loss because of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things, and I regard them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but one that comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God based on faith.”

And in our Gospel reading, we have Jesus in a tender moment with the family of Lazarus, whom he had just raised from the dead.  Menace is lurking in the background of this tender moment; the chief priests and Pharisees have plans to arrest Jesus.  What’s more, since Jesus’ raising of Lazarus was bringing people to Jesus, the chief priests wanted to have Lazarus killed as well. 

In the midst of these threats, Jesus and his disciples are having dinner with the family of Lazarus; Lazarus is at table with Jesus, and Martha, characteristically hard at work in the kitchen.  And Mary, characteristically, is not helping Martha in the kitchen.  Elsewhere in the Gospels, Martha complained about Mary sitting at Jesus’ feet listening while Martha was hard at work.  Mary’s sitting at Jesus’ feet sounds subservient, but this actually could be seen as a liberating place to be, because normally only the men would have been privileged to listen to the master’s teaching – and Mary would have been listening along with them.

And now Mary does something so striking that a version of the story is recorded in all four Gospels.  Mary takes a pound of perfume made of pure nard – very fragrant, very costly – uses it to anoint Jesus’ feet, and wipes his feet with her hair.  We’re told that the fragrance of the perfume filled the house – and when I do healing prayers and use oil for anointing, the oil I used has nard for fragrance, and fragrant it is indeed.  The fragrance would have been nearly overpowering.  It’s really a lovely, tender moment between Mary and Jesus – a lovely, tender moment which Judas steps on with his words, “Why was this perfume not sold and the proceeds given to the poor.”  It sounds like a compelling argument – but John, the writer of the gospel, whispers from the sidelines, “Don’t listen to Judas.  He doesn’t give a hoot about the poor; he just wants to skim some money for himself.”  Jesus cuts Judas off, “Leave her alone! She bought it for the day of my burial.  The poor will always be here, but I won’t be.”

I’d like to unpack Jesus’ words a bit. Jesus’ words have been misused to say that we don’t have to care about the poor – but that’s not what Jesus is saying.  Instead, he’s in effect calling BS on Judas’ hypocritical condemnation of Mary by reminding them what time it was, that with the chief priests and Pharisees wanting Jesus dead, they were sooner or later going to get their way – and the disciples had best value whatever time they had left with Jesus.  In normal times, during any other time in fact, they could give alms to the poor.  But this moment was not every other moment.  And Jesus’ mentioning of his own burial is pretty heavy foreshadowing of what’s going to happen when Jesus and his disciples arrive in Jerusalem:  he was going to be killed there, and he knew it.  And Mary was trying to provide whatever comfort she could in the only way she knew how – because Mary, unlike Judas, knew what time it was. 

What time is it?  We live in strange times.  Recent weeks have given us political debates more suited for a junior high school boys locker room and political rallies fit for the Jerry Springer show.  It’s a year in which candidates – even candidates with long political resumes – want to be seen as outsiders, because the label “establishment candidate” is seen as equivalent to a label of “corrupt, bought and paid for candidate”.  It feels like a transitional time, with established assumptions passing away, and something new struggling to be born.  We seem to be in a time of birth pangs – but what is it that is being born?  Old black and white news footage from the civil rights era shows nonviolent protesters, black and white, being met with water cannons and police dogs and violence from private citizens and law enforcement alike – and this violence was all part of the birth pangs that led to greater freedom for African Americans.  By contrast, in Germany, Hitler’s rise to power was also accompanied by violence by his supporters, and this violence was part of the birth pangs that led to death for millions and great suffering for millions more. 

What will our era be called?  It’s difficult for us to know while we’re in it.  Indeed, during the civil rights era, nobody made a public service announcement: “We are now entering the civil rights era”.  It was only in retrospect that we understood the time of change through which the country had passed.  So it’s difficult to know what time it is.

But in order to be faithful, the church needs to be aware of the signs of the times.  During the civil rights era, Dr. King lamented the silence of his fellow clergy colleagues and friends, who knew what was right but failed to speak up, who chose fleeting popularity over faithful proclamation. In Germany, during Hitler’s reign, most of the German churches, Catholic and Protestant, accommodated Hitler’s policies and remained silent about the horrors that were going on around them.  Sunday after Sunday, sermons were preached and sacraments were celebrated, while the church remained silent about the deadly elephant in the room.  Confronted with monstrous evil, most German churches did exactly nothing.  By contrast, a small number of churches adopted what they called the Barmen Declaration, which explained that because of their loyalty to their Lord Jesus, they could not support Lord Adolf. I encourage you to look up the Barmen Declaration on your own (http://www.ucc.org/beliefs_barmen-declaration ), but here’s a snippet:

“As Jesus Christ is God's comforting pronouncement of the forgiveness of all our sins, so, with equal seriousness, he is also God's vigorous announcement of his claim upon our whole life. Through him there comes to us joyful liberation from the godless ties of this world for free, grateful service to his creatures.
We reject the false doctrine that there could be areas of our life in which we would not belong to Jesus Christ but to other lords, areas in which we would not need justification and sanctification through him.”   

What time is it?  It is time to remember, in the words of the Barmen Declaration just quoted, “God’s vigorous announcement of his claim upon our whole life”, time to celebrate our joyful liberation from the godless ties of this world and the opportunity for free, grateful service to God’s creatures.  In a time of change, may we remember who we are and whose we are.    May we be alert to signs of God’s actions in the world.  May Jesus Christ, the living Word, be a lamp to our feet and a light to our path.   Where Jesus leads, may we follow.  Amen. 

March 2016 Pastor's Message - From the Newsletter

Dear Emanuel Members and Friends –

After this the Lord appointed seventy others and sent them on ahead of him in pairs to every town and place where he himself intended to go. He said to them, ‘The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest. Go on your way. See, I am sending you out like lambs into the midst of wolves. Carry no purse, no bag, no sandals; and greet no one on the road. Whatever house you enter, first say, “Peace to this house!” And if anyone is there who shares in peace, your peace will rest on that person; but if not, it will return to you. Remain in the same house, eating and drinking whatever they provide, for the laborer deserves to be paid. Do not move about from house to house. Whenever you enter a town and its people welcome you, eat what is set before you; cure the sick who are there, and say to them, “The kingdom of God has come near to you.” (Luke 10:1-9)

The gifts he gave were that some would be apostles, some prophets, some evangelists, some pastors and teachers, to equip the saints for the work of ministry, for building up the body of Christ, until all of us come to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to maturity, to the measure of the full stature of Christ. We must no longer be children, tossed to and fro and blown about by every wind of doctrine, by people’s trickery, by their craftiness in deceitful scheming. But speaking the truth in love, we must grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ, from whom the whole body, joined and knitted together by every ligament with which it is equipped, as each part is working properly, promotes the body’s growth in building itself up in love. (Ephesians 4:11-16)

Jesus said to him, ‘No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.’ (Luke 9:62)

A song currently playing frequently (perhaps too frequently) on the radio, by the musical duo “21 Pilots”, contains the refrain:

“Wish we could turn back time, to the good ol’ days,
When our momma sang us to sleep but now we’re stressed out.”

This song speaks from the perspective of one who is on the cusp of maturity, not feeling entirely ready for the responsibilities of adulthood, but instead looking back to the relatively carefree days of childhood.  Inevitably, inexorably, the singer is heading toward maturity, but not without a glance backward to “the good ol’ days/when our momma sang us to sleep.…”   However, the singer knows that, ready or not, the responsibilities of adulthood await him, and therefore he is “stressed out.”

Like physical and mental maturity, spiritual maturity is not attained without struggle.  Particularly in the church, it is tempting – and it is easy – to rest in a kind of perpetual spiritual childhood, assuming that the familiar spaces and scenes of our childhood will always be there to comfort us, that the church will always be there to serve us.  After all, Jesus said, “Let the little children come unto me, and do not forbid them, for of us is the kingdom of heaven.” (Matthew 19:14, Mark 10:14, Luke 18:16)   Familiar surroundings, favorite scriptures, beloved hymns, can, instead of spurring us to mission, be like a lullaby, can have a similar effect to when “our momma sang us to sleep”.    Paul’s call for his readers – and for us – to grow into spiritual maturity (even while retaining childlike trust in God) was likely jarring to his listeners, and may be jarring to us as well.  It is indeed jarring to realize that the buildings and ornaments which we assumed would always be with us, are, like all other earthly possessions, temporary.  And when that which is familiar is removed from us, and we are thrust into surroundings that are unfamiliar, we can readily become “stressed out.” 

          “Sometimes a certain smell will take me back to when I was young,

          How come I'm never able to identify where it's coming from?….” (21 Pilots, ‘Stressed Out’)

Jesus’ instructions to the “seventy others” – which echo those he gave earlier to his twelve disciples – are striking to us.  “Carry no purse, no bag, nor two tunics, nor sandals…..” (Matthew 10: 9-10, Mark 6:8-9, Luke 10:4)  The seventy, like the twelve before them, were instructed to travel light.  They were not to engage in elaborate planning for their mission, but rather trust in God to provide for their needs through the hospitality of those to whom they ministered.

Needless to say, our churches, by and large, do not follow this pattern of ministry.  Most of our churches (Emanuel included), in order to carry out our mission, believe we need, not only a purse (i.e. a bank account), a bag (storage space for possessions and mementos), multiple tunics and sandals (vestments), but also a large and functional building (preferably handicapped-accessible), a pipe organ, stained glass windows, pews (cushioned if funds permit),  candles, altar flowers, and a big brass cross….and that’s the bare minimum.   Jesus told his disciples to “Go on your way” (that is, venture beyond the confines of worship space and into the wider world), but our pattern of ministry, with familiar sights and sounds and even smells,  instead invites people to remain, to form a “holy huddle” in one place.

We used to play pretend, give each other different names,
We would build a rocket ship and then we'd fly it far away,
Used to dream of outer space but now they're laughing at our face,
Saying, "Wake up, you need to make money. (Yah) "  (21 Pilots, ‘Stressed Out’)

Our building needs significant repairs.  Specifically, in the wake of recent storms, the brick work in our front wall is shifting.  Our insurance has been contacted, along with multiple structural engineers.  Bids from several contractors are pending.   In the meantime, demonstrating an abundance of caution, at least a week’s worth of services have been shifted to nearby Bridesburg Presbyterian church on Pratt Street.  (UPDATE: Services will resume at Emanuel Church starting Sunday, March 13, 2016. Use Almond Street gate via cemetery.)

It’s an unsettling situation.  To travel to Fillmore Street and see a padlock on our front gate, to travel (even if only a few blocks) to a less familiar church, to sit in pews with worshipers we don’t know well, to follow an unfamiliar order of worship and sing from a different hymnal – all these things contribute to a sense of dislocation.  It’s Sunday morning, and we’re in church, but not “our” church. 

We fervently pray it’s a temporary situation, and that we can return to Fillmore Street soon.  But while we’re “on the road”, so to speak, I’d encourage us to view the situation not just as an inconvenience – which it most assuredly is - but as an invitation to grow in spiritual maturity.  Meeting and worshiping with our Presbyterian sisters and brothers (or those of any other congregation) is a good thing.  Sitting in an unfamiliar sanctuary and realizing that God is there too, just as God was present on Fillmore Street, is a good thing.  Living out the truth of the children’s song “The church is not a building, the church is not a steeple/ the church is not a resting place, the church is people” is a good thing.  And Jesus never promised that following him would be without inconvenience.

Growing into spiritual maturity is a lifelong process, and involves growing pains.  During this (hopefully brief) time of dislocation, we may at times become “stressed out”.  I share in these feelings of dislocation and stress.  But, trusting in the wisdom of the old hymn, may we pray “Have thine own way, Lord, have thine own way.  Thou art the potter, I am the clay….”  May we trust that the God who has carried Emanuel Church through over 150 years of ministry will continue to be in our midst, shaping and molding our congregation now so that we can be matured and equipped to serve God and neighbor in the future.

See you in church – Pastor Dave