Jesus Weeps

This sermon was heard at the First Presbyterian Church in Berryville, Arkansas on Sunday November 1, 2009, All Saints' Day.

Isaiah 25:6-9
Psalm 24
Revelation 21:1-6a
John 11:32-44

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen

Last week, our gospel reading was the glorious story of Blind Bartimaeus, a man who was shunned by the people because of his blindness. Bartimaeus was a beggar on the road between Jericho and Jerusalem. He made a living being a nuisance to travelers. He lived a dirty life in a dangerous place on the margins of society.

Jesus called him, beckoned Bartimaeus to come to him. Leaving his old life behind with his cloak, Bartimaeus sprang up and came to Jesus. Bartimaeus receives two gifts, the first is his sight. The second gift he receives is the unconditional presence of the Lord. Bartimaeus is now and forever in the presence of the Lord. Every time we tell this story it is true. Every time we tell this story Bartimaeus is with Jesus. Every time we tell this story it is as true in the eternal sense, now as much as then, Bartimaeus is with Jesus.

This is an example of what we are promised in the words of the prophet. Isaiah prophesies, Isaiah promises:

Then the Lord GOD will wipe away the tears from all faces,
and the disgrace of his people he will take away from all the earth,
for the LORD has spoken.
It will be said on that day,
Lo, this is our God; we have waited for him, so that he might save us.
This is the LORD for whom we have waited;
let us be glad and rejoice in his salvation.

This is an example of what we are promised in the words of John the Revelator.

And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying,

“See, the home of God is among mortals.
He will dwell with them as their God;
they will be his peoples,
and God himself will be with them;
he will wipe every tear from their eyes.
Death will be no more;
mourning and crying and pain will be no more,
for the first things have passed away.”

And the one who was seated on the throne said, “See, I am making all things new.”

These promises are wonderful, and they are glorious. They are lived by Bartimaeus who lives in the words of Isaiah, walking beside Jesus, his tears wiped from his face. His disgrace nothing but a distant memory the moment that Jesus gives him the two greatest gifts he can receive, sight in his eyes and God’s own presence in his life now and forever.

The sorrow and mourning Bartimaeus knew were wiped from his eyes with the coming promise of the Revelation that the first things have passed away. It is the next thing, life in the presence of the Lord that is now his by the grace of Christ Jesus.

The lesson of Bartimaeus is revealed in the promises made in prophecy. They remind us that God is in this world, the Lord is with us.

We know, we have faith, it has been revealed that there will be no more death, or mourning or crying or pain. The entire old order of things has passed away. The things that cause us to feel grief and pain released like dust in the wind.

This is where we can run into some trouble. It’s not that this isn’t true, it is. But just as it is true that the victory of Christ was won on the cross through his blood; there is still pain and grief and sorrow in this world.

Eugene Peterson wrote this for the introduction to Michael Card’s book, “A Sacred Sorrow, Reaching Out to God in the Lost Language of Lament.”

A number of years ago my mother died in Montana. My brother and sister, our spouses and children, gathered and prepared for the service of worship in which we would place our grief for her death and gratitude for her life before God. As the first-born I was appointed to conduct the funeral…I began reading Scriptures—several psalms, Isaiah’s strong words of comfort, Jesus’ parting words to His disciples, Paul’s archi-tec-tonic Romans 8, John’s final vision of heaven. I had done this scores of times over many years and have always loved doing it, saying again these powerful, honest words that give such enormous dignity to death and our tears. While reading, the air now thin between time and eternity, without warning lament surged within me. I tried to keep my composure and then just let it go…

The benediction pronounced, I ducked quickly into a small room just off the chancel. I didn’t want to see or talk to anyone. My twenty-two-year-old daughter slipped in beside me. We sat together, quiet and weeping our own “sacred sorrow.” And then a man I’d never seen before entered and sat down. He put his arm across my shoulder and spoke some preacherish clichés in a preacherish tone. Then, mercifully, he left. I said to my daughter, “Karen, I hope I’ve never done that to anybody.” She said, “Oh, Daddy, I don’t think you have ever done that.” I hope not.[1]

When we use these words of assurance to remember the promises of God that’s one thing, but when we use them as magic words to calm someone down so our pain is relieved, well, that’s the worst thing we can do.

There is an ancient theological concept that was greatly influenced by an even more ancient philosophical concept known as apatheia; it’s the root of our word apathy. The concept of apatheia allows us to define “God as one whose perfection leaves God unaffected by the contingencies and circumstances of the created order.”[2] John Calvin used this principle as a way to explain that the emotions attributed to God like the ones in this passage from John are the just way Scripture expresses what is truly incomprehensible in a way we can begin to understand.

To paraphrase this using the slang of a few years back: Divine emotion? It’s a God thing, you wouldn’t understand.

As for me, I don’t really understand that concept as it pertains to the Lord, and particularly not as it pertains to the fully human and fully divine Jesus of Nazareth. We read that because of the death of his dear friend Lazarus, Jesus is deeply disturbed in spirit. We read that Jesus is deeply moved. We read later again that Jesus is deeply disturbed. The Jews could even see that Jesus deeply loved Lazarus.

We read that Jesus began to weep.[3] Honestly though, I prefer the traditional translation of this verse, Jesus wept. Jesus was so overwhelmed that he wept at the loss of his friend. Jesus knew what he would do, and he knew what he would do for the glory of God for the sake of the crowd standing there; so that they may believe that it was the Father who sent the Son. Still, Jesus wept.

Jesus knew the pain. Jesus knew the grief. Jesus knew the sorrow. Jesus was overwhelmed.

Jesus knew the prophecy of Isaiah. Jesus knew the tears of the mourners would be wiped away. Jesus knew the extravagant grace and peace which comes from the glory seat of the Lord God Almighty would be known by his work.

Jesus knew the glory of the new heaven and the new earth; the glory made possible by the passing of the first heaven and the first earth. Jesus knew the glory of the holy city, the new Jerusalem. Jesus knew these things because he is the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End. Jesus knew all of this and more than we could ever hope or imagine.

And Jesus wept.

Today as we celebrate All Saints’ Day, we celebrate those who have gone before us in the faith. Today we celebrate the life of Elizabeth Beck who played organ and provided music for worship for this part of the Body of Christ. We celebrate the life of Leah Chapman who was taken from this world all too soon. We celebrate the life of Raphael Mabry, and we celebrate the life of my mother Mary Margaret. We celebrate the lives of all of those who have preceded us onto the glory of God. As we celebrate their lives, and the richness that fills our lives because of them, we too mourn. We shed a tear as we smile. We weep.

We are the recipients, the heirs of these glorious promises; promises of peace, promises of grace. We have a confidence in the prophecies and we have confidence in Christ. By Christ, the kingdom of God is here; the kingdom of God is now. Still, we know by the realities of sin and life that the kingdom is not yet fully here, it is not yet. There is sorrow and there is mourning. In this not yet, Jesus weeps. Jesus who knows the fulfillment of the promises weeps with Martha and Mary. And Jesus weeps with us too.

[1] Card, Michael, “A Sacred Sorrow, Reaching Out to God in the Lost Language of Lament.” Introduction by Eugene Peterson. Colorado Springs: NavPress, 2005, pages 11-12.
[2] “Feasting on the Word.” David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, Editors. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009, page 236.
[3] John 11:35, New Revised Standard Version. This is the version we use in worship.

The Sons of Zebedee

This sermon was heard at the First Presbyterian Church in Berryville, Arkansas on Sunday October 18, 2009, the 29th Sunday in Ordinary Time.

Job 38:1-7, (34-41)
Psalm 104:1-9, 24, 35c
Hebrews 5:1-10
Mark 10:35-45

May the words of my mouth and the mediations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen

You know me well enough to know that sometimes, I get an image burned into my head that I just can’t get rid of until I share it. Sometimes it’s worth sharing, more often than not that’s the reason I keep them to myself or share them only with Marie. Well, the first part of this passage did just that.

I see the dreamy eyes of James and John, the sons of Zebedee, as they approach Jesus. In their minds eyes they are sitting next to Jesus, everyone wearing white robes, everyone’s hair flowing in the wind, riding on the back of a classic Ford Mustang convertible, the Homecoming King and the attentive court.

Actually, the image in my head was Homecoming Queen because my high school didn’t do a Homecoming King, but I don’t want to make this image any more unorthodox than it all ready is.

Still, you know, the wave: elbow, elbow, wrist, wrist, wrist. Smiling and waving at the appreciative crowd; riding on the back of the convertible along the parade route. Crowds of people along the way would be getting ready for the big game, but not before showing their undying love for the three in the car. Sure, Jesus is in the middle, surrounded by admirers and disciples, sitting in the honored seat. He is the one everyone adores the most; but everyone looks to the Sons of Zebedee, James and John, as the next most popular kids in the senior class.

Jesus can’t be matched, everyone knows that, but to be next to the Lord, that is the greatest place anyone could ever hope to be; a place that can’t be matched. James and John sit and wave and bask in the Lord’s reflected glory and know everyone wants to be just like them.

Suddenly, Jesus busts their dream bubbles asking, “You might think you can get in the car, but do you think you’ll be able to take the ride? Will you be able to wear the crown and the sash? Will you be able to take everything the crowds have to give, the love, the adulation, the jealousy, the envy, the hatred, the scorn?”

“Oh, yes, we most certainly will be able to take it all.” It’s almost as if they didn’t hear the second half of the litany Jesus laid out.

Jesus gives the blushing boys a nod and tells them the truth they don’t understand, “Well guess what; you will get to wear the crown and the sash and you will know the love, the adulation, the jealousy, the envy, the hatred, the scorn. But whether you’ll be riding in the classic Mustang or not, well, that’s not up to me.”

That’s when the rest of the homecoming court gets upset with the upstarts. You know the rest, kicking, scratching, hair pulling…

I can’t decide if my re-visioning of this passage is like a bad teen movie or the spoof of a bad teen movie. If this gives you the willies, just imagine what I share only with Marie and then imagine what I keep to myself.

As silly as my re-visioning of this scene is, what is even sillier is its context. The disciples are on the road going up to Jerusalem during this passage. Immediately before our reading, Jesus shares this with the disciples, “See, we are going up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man will be handed over to the chief priests and the scribes, and they will condemn him to death; then they will hand him over to the Gentiles; they will mock him, and spit upon him, and flog him, and kill him; and after three days he will rise again.”[1]

This isn’t even the first time Jesus had predicted his Passion; his death and resurrection. This is the third time Jesus had told his disciples that he will be mocked, spat upon, flogged, killed, and after three days raised from the dead. It is completely absurd that immediately after this teaching, this repeat of this teaching; the Sons of Thunder ask if they can sit next to Jesus in his glory.

Perhaps what makes this entirely too sinfully human is that James and John ask to sit next to Jesus in his glory; this glory they anticipated would be far greater than any earthly kingdom. Their question, absent any reference to the Passion, would have been a request to sit as princes in this earthly kingdom. They were seeking power and glory; I hope they were also seeking the good things power and glory can bring.

They are anxious to be next to him in his ecstasy, but not in his agony. On the heels of his last Passion prediction, they ask Jesus if he will let them hear the cheers, but in this scene nobody asks to hear the cries.

It’s easy for us to swell with knowing as Jesus tells James and John that sitting at his left and right is not for him to grant. It is glorious to hear that those places are for those for whom it has been prepared. There’s a certain ethereal joy knowing there is a place is prepared for the Church Christ ordains. It gnaws at the pit of my stomach when I read that with him they crucified two bandits, one on his right and one on his left.[2] People, we beg to be next to Jesus in his glory, but we hardly beg for a place at Golgotha, the place of the skull.[3]

In the meantime the rest of the disciples get angry with James and John. While scripture is particularly silent on the reason, I suspect that they were angry with them for their request. The others were probably angry that James and John had done an end-around on them and asked for the good seats. I wonder if they were angrier because they hadn’t thought of it first. I can’t imagine they were ticked because they wanted be the first to share in the terror Jesus predicted.

I wonder if they would have asked the same question if they knew what they were getting themselves into. How often do we remember the Passion when we hear Jesus say, “The cup that I drink you will drink; and with the baptism with which I am baptized, you will be baptized.”

I hope James, and John and the rest were thinking about justice for the poor, care for the hungry, healing for the sick; things that a Godly kingdom brings. I hope they were thinking about the things Jesus talked about in his words on how Gentiles lorded power over one another. Jesus warned about exercising power like tyrants; warning against capricious laws, greedy taxes, and lustful appetites.

The Presbyterian Lay Committee is a group of Presbyterians who come together and share common concerns and seek common interests. There are dozens of such “affinity groups” scattered around the Presbyterian Church, running the political gamut from very liberal to very conservative. I do not think it is a disservice to categorize the Lay Committee as one of the more conservative affinity groups.

What follows is a commentary by the Rev. Parker Williamson from the September 4, 2009 edition of their newsletter, “The Layman.” Rev. Williamson is Editor Emeritus of “The Layman,” consultant to the Presbyterian Lay Committee, and an honorably retired PC (USA) minister.

Health care is not an entitlement issue. Those who frame public discourse on this subject in the language of “rights” – sadly, this is the approach employed by political lobbyists for the Presbyterian Church (USA) – reveal their ignorance of Scripture and of the human condition.

If human beings had a right to good health, then billions of us – ultimately, all of us – may file a grievance against our Creator. Some of us are unhealthy at birth. All of us are born hosting bacteria that under conditions beyond our control can result in illness and death. Scripture informs us that there is a time to be born and a time to die. These times are not set by us, and they most certainly should not be set by our government. They are the province of God.[4]

I can’t read that without sorrow. Williamson holds up the “human condition” in the same way antebellum American slave owners held up the “Curse of Ham” from Genesis 9:22 to say that Africans were cursed to be slaves. “God ordained their slavery; it says so in the Bible. The plantation is just one way to help every cotton-pickin’ one of them live into their godly office.” He holds up birth defects and grave childhood illness as an expression of Ecclesiastes 3:2, “Hey, there is a time to die, and some die sooner than later. Can’t stop it, God’s plan.”

In fairness, there are some valid points in the commentary. Williamson goes into the fact that for many, lifestyle is a factor in health, obesity for example. For these folk, he recommends a bootstrap approach. He quotes Jesus to the man at Bethsaida asking the, question “Do you want to be healed?” He implies that those who do not wish to take care of themselves in the first place really don’t want to be healed. Sure they want symptom relief, but not healing.

The article ends with this: “We [the Lay Committee] will respond to the Lord’s call for compassion, challenging the wisest among us to implement that compassion through policies that define reciprocal partnerships between donor and recipient.”[5]

This statement seems a bit unwieldy, so let me share what I think it means. I read “donor” as the one who pays for health care reform and “recipient” as the one receiving health care services. By virtue of his place in the organization, Rev. Williamson is saying the Lay Committee will support a call to compassion, but only one that calls people to lead a healthy life and that people be healthy before the “donor” pitches any pennies in their direction. The Lay Committee is willing to respond to the call for God’s compassion, but not willing to lead.

When I read Rev. Williamson’s words, what I see is not compassion; I see pity for people who do not live healthy lives. There is disdain for those who do not live up to his expectations. These folk may be pitiable creatures, but they do not deserve his helping hand.

I don’t read compassion for those whose injured lifestyle damages their health. I don’t sense the Lord’s call to compassion in his words. I sense blaming people for hurting themselves and taking money from his pocket to help subsidize their unhealthy lifestyle. I sense a laissez-faire approach to compassion; let them care for themselves first.

When I read his remarks, I read that he supports a program that calls for the Lord’s compassion. As for action, he is willing to say no to plans being considered right now, but not willing to suggest alternatives. He is not willing to go out and touch all of God’s children who are hurting right now where they are right now. It seems in this case he is not willing to say “we who are great among you must be your servant, for whoever wishes to be first must be slave of all.”

I say this is a shame. As the children of God, we must be willing to reach out. To be great means to be the slave of all.

James and John wanted to sit at the right hand of the Lord to bask in his glory and exercise his power. Jesus says that it is for the Son of Man to come, not to be served but to serve, and give his life for a ransom for many. Jesus knows that we cannot take on the obligation that he alone fulfills.

Jesus calls us, as his blessed children, to go following his example. Jesus sits with the poor; Jesus breaks bread with sinners; and yes, Jesus heals the sick. We are called not to be served, but to serve. Yet, we cannot save anyone; that alone is his work. He alone is the great High Priest. He gives his life for a ransom for many. We cannot save the world; instead we are called to be the hands, eyes, ears, voices, and hearts he will use to save the world.

We are called to live our lives in his service. We are called to live as the children of God, not the children of Zebedee.

[1] Mark 10:33-34, NRSV
[2] Mark 15:27
[3] Mark 15:22
[4] Williamson, Parker, The Layman, http://www.layman.org/News.aspx?article=26338, retrieved October 16, 2009.
[5] Ibid.