This sermon was heard at The Federated Church in Weatherford, Oklahoma on May 1, 2016, the Sixth Sunday in Easter.
Acts 16:9-15
Psalm 67
Revelation 21:10, 21:22-22:5
John 5:1-9
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, or rock and our redeemer. Amen.
Words, they are such imprecise things. What I mean is that when I use a word it may not mean the same thing to you it means to me. Still, we are people of the Word, the Word of God. No matter how imprecise words are, the Lord used them to communicate with the prophets, priests, and kings. Jesus used words with his apostles and disciples, but it is still no wonder that we get confused by them.
My favorite Hebrew word is ruach. I love to hear it, I love to say it. I love what it means, both its simple definition and all of the wonderful meanings it carries. In Genesis 1:2, this is the word our bibles translate as “Spirit” [1] or “wind.”[2] Listen to the word again, ruach. It sounds like wind and spirit. There is a breathy, otherworldly quality to this word that mystifies me. Say it with me, ruach.
In Genesis, this breath of God, this is the spirit imparted just before light is created. It is the breath that blows across the chaos, the darkness, the void. This is the breath that precedes life. This is the breath that gives life to all creation.
This is the wind that comes off the water in the morning. It’s the cool breeze that brings the dew that falls on the grass. It’s the summer breeze that rustles the leaves in the trees and tells us that all is right in the world. It is the Spirit that reminds us that God is in charge regardless of the chaos of the world around us. It is the Spirit that says Emmanuel, God with us. This is the wind, the Spirit we read about a couple of weeks ago from John’s gospel when the disciples received the breath of Jesus. It’s the wind that will blow in two weeks on Pentecost.
Our gospel reading begins during a Jewish festival and Jesus is walking past the Sheep Gate by a pool the New Revised Standard Version called Beth-zatha. In Hebrew this could mean House of Shame or House of Disgrace. There are five porticoes in this pool, five porches reaching into the waters. These porches were loaded, overloaded with sick men and women; blind, lame, and paralyzed. They came to the pools to be healed.
Legend said that when the pool was stirred, its healing power was activated, and the first person in the waters would be healed. Angels bathing in the waters were said to cause those ripples. Since the pool was surrounded on all sides by the city walls or the slope of the hills, breezes in the pool would be infrequent. The pool was fed irregularly by an underground spring which would cause rippling. So the waiting game had to be played with patience.
In chapter nine of John’s gospel the disciples will ask “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” Their understanding of disease was based on first century traditions. They had no understanding of germs and viruses. Illness was caused by sin, and maybe not even the sin of the ailing. Illness could be due to someone else’s sin. The sick were literally “sin sick.”
Further, the blind, lame, and paralyzed on the porticoes probably didn’t have much opportunity for wound care or basic hygiene. We have already established that because of location and architecture the pool had poor air circulation, so there would have been a stench that only a hospital worker with hazardous waste experience or a butcher whose power has been off all weekend can truly appreciate.
Remember too that this pool was used to wash the sheep prior to their sacrifice in the Temple. This use of the pool gave the water a halo of sanctity,[3] and I imagine it gave the pool a another distinct set of aromas.
The point I want to make is that our gospel reading is happening at a place where we would least expect to find a King. It’s loaded with the sick and infirm. It smells like infection and people who have been sitting in their filth because they have been waiting on healing. It smells like a sheep pen which would be a combination of barnyard and wet wool. While we don't know whether the spring had a harsh odor or not, we know there's a reason Glade doesn't make "Hot Spring." Oh, I forgot the flies. It would be safe to say Beth-zatha would not have been on the Chamber of Commerce tour.
So Jesus arrives at the pool seeing the sick: the blind, the lame, and the paralyzed. There, Jesus spotted a man he wanted to know. He learned that this man had been lying there for a long time, thirty eight years to be exact. Jesus asks him, “Do you want to be made well?”
Oh what a wonderful question! “Do you want to be made well?” How would you answer this question? “Oh my Lord, yes, I want to be made well!” Imagine people being asked this question all over the world? Imagine people crying from the roof tops, “Oh yes Lord, I want to be made well!” But you know, this isn’t the answer Jesus gets.
The man tells Jesus, “Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up; and while I am making my way, someone else steps down ahead of me.”
So, is that a yes or a no?
Really, I’m asking. This isn't rhetorical.
Is this a yes or a no?
It really isn’t an answer as much as it’s an explanation. The man explains that he is unable to reach the healing waters. He tries. He really tries to make it on his own, but he cannot because there is no one there to help him. Alas, woe is he. He is unable to make it to the waters first.
So Jesus says to him, “Stand up, take your mat and walk.”
This man has waited thirty-eight years for the wind to blow across the pool. He has waited so very long for the wind to blow and for the healing power of the water to be activated for him. He waited to be caressed by the ripples in the pool caused by angels bathing.
Instead, he got something new. He got what he expected least in this world. He didn’t feel the wind blow causing the pool to ripple. He met the wind.
He met the wind. He met the living God. He met the one who causes the healing wind to blow. He didn’t meet an angel, he met God incarnate. He was waiting to feel the breeze so that he could race to the pool. Instead he met the one who is the wind. In the most real and least expected way, he met God with him; he had a personal encounter with Emmanuel.
This passage in the New International Version does not call the pool Beth-zatha. It says Bethesda. Bethesda means “House of Mercy” or “House of Grace.” That name is fitting for a group of invalids who seek the unmerited favor of healing by the restorative powers of the waters. Is it any wonder that a Presbyterian Church founded near the sight of a bubbling spring in rural Maryland in 1820 would be called Bethesda? Is it any wonder one-hundred-and-twenty years later a Naval Medical Center built nearby would come to be called Bethesda?[4] A place named for the House of Grace would be the place to receive special treatment, both medical and spiritual.
For this man, there was no more “House of Shame.” He has met the one who brings the living waters of the “House of Grace.” In a glorious new way, he was baptized not in water, but in the Spirit of the Lord, by which he took his mat and walked. That day, that Sabbath day, Jesus showed that he is come to reconcile all creation into right relationship with himself. As the wind blew across the water in Genesis beginning all creation, Jesus blew across this man who was not able to get himself to the pool, not even able to say he wanted to get himself to the pool, and gave him new life.
I love words, and in one act, Jesus changes Beth-zatha to Bethesda. He takes the House of Disgrace and makes it a House of Grace. He makes this House of Shame a House of Mercy. This is the wind that blows across the healing waters. This is ruach.
Jesus has taken something old, the ancient myths and legends of the healing waters of a pool of water. A pool called the House of Shame and Disgrace because these afflictions were considered shameful and disgraceful. The Messiah, Jesus the Christ instead offers something new, grace and mercy, where neither existed before. He takes the stench of what kept them unclean and gives new life. Gone is the old, in Christ new life has come in abundance.
Our Lord, our Messiah is the one who is able to do more than we could ever hope or imagine. He is able to do the unexpected. We read this in Acts. Acts 16:13 tells us that on the Sabbath, Paul and his traveling party went down to the river, down to the place of prayer, and spoke to the women who had gathered there. I am not going to go into the big explanation about why the women are the people we would least expect Paul to speak with on that day, we know about the subordinate roles women played in ancient times. Paul had crossed into Europe to share the Good News of Jesus Christ in the Roman Empire and first shared it with women.
One of the women in the group, a believer in God named Lydia, was listening to Paul at the river. She was a dealer in purple cloth. To decode this phrase, she was in her way rich and powerful. Her clients were rich and powerful because only the rich could afford to purchase purple and only the powerful were allowed to wear it.
This woman, rich and powerful in her own right, brought her household to Paul for baptism. In effect, her household is the first toehold of Christianity in Europe. A woman’s home in Thyatira becomes the site of the first European Christian church. This easily qualifies something new. [5]
This gives us hope in Christ. This bit of Bethesda, this slice of the “House of Grace” comes again to the water and the wind blows across it bringing something new, the grace and peace of our Lord Jesus Christ to the world where it is least expected. By the grace and mercy of God, these women are reconciled to all creation.
Even more unexpected is the vision of New Jerusalem found in our reading from Revelation. The winds of change, the winds of reconciliation, the winds of life blow across the river of life flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb. If you noticed, there is no temple in the city because there is no need. There is no need for a temple because all of New Jerusalem, the city where nothing accursed will be found, becomes the new temple.[6]
This is the wonder and the glory of new life in Christ. The most glorious things we could never expect are just the beginning. The wind of new life blows across Bethesda lifting a man who had not walked in thirty-eight years. The wind blows across the river where the women pray and opens Europe to the gospel. The Gospel Incarnate, the Lamb of God will be seen again on the day of the New Jerusalem when there will be no more night.
Pope John Paul II took the opportunity to “put Bob Dylan right” when the two headlined a gig together in Bologna, Italy in 1997.[7] Dylan met His Holiness on stage during a Catholic youth event before playing three of his best-known songs. After the two men had shaken hands and exchanged a few words, the Pope stepped up to the microphone and took the singer to the theological cleaners.
“You say the answer is blowing in the wind, my friend,” he observed. “So it is. But it is not the wind that blows things away, it is the wind that is the breath and life of the Holy Spirit, the voice that calls and says, ‘Come!’”
Clearly enjoying the thunderous applause that greeted these words, the Pope continued in a style that would not have disgraced a television evangelist: “You ask me, how many roads must a man walk down before he becomes a man? I answer: One! There is only one road for man, and it is the road of Jesus Christ, who said I am the Way and the Life.”
Rejoice! The wind that blows over the creation of creation blows today. Through the work of the Holy Spirit, God in Christ is doing something new. It is up to the Body of Christ to listen for the word. It’s time to feel the wind, stand up, take up our mat, and walk.
Amen.
[1] Jerusalem Publication Society, New American Standard Bible, New International Version, New Living translations
[2] New Revised Standard Version
[3] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pool_of_Bethesda, accessed May 12, 2007
[4] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bethesda%2C_Maryland and http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/National_Naval_Medical_Center accessed on May 12, 2007
[5] Cousar, Charles B, Gaventa, Beverly R., McCann, Jr., J. Clinton, Newsome, James D. “Texts for Preaching, A Lectionary Commentary Based on the NRSV, Year C.” Louisville, KY: Westminster/John Knox Press, 1994, pages 314-316.
[6] Ibid, pages 318-320.
[7] Ship of Fools Magazine Online, September 29, 1997 as found at HomileticsOnline.com, http://homileticsonline.com/subscriber/illustration_search.asp?item_topic_id=1887, May 7, 2010.
Showing posts with label new life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label new life. Show all posts
Sunday, May 01, 2016
Sunday, December 25, 2011
Light
This sermon was heard at the First Presbyterian Church in Marshall, Texas on Sunday December 25, 2011, Nativity of the Lord Sunday. Merry Christmas.
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Isaiah 52:7-10
Psalm 98
Hebrews 1:1-4
John 1:1-14
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen
I was up early this morning, before the sun rose. Of course that’s pretty easy to do on the fourth day of winter. Seeing the sun rise through the clouds reminds me of something special about the light, the light overcomes the dark.
This morning, the first light of sun begin to make its way across the horizon, sending off an ember like glow rather than streaking rays of brilliance. Soon though, more and more light began to cut through the clouds announcing the coming of the sun like the herald angels singing. Yes, dank dreary days like today can mute the power of the sun to the point that the street lights come on, but the sun will not be blocked forever. On that day, when the sun rises, the golden orb ascends the plain to announce the new day with resounding power and light.
Ultimately the light penetrates even the densest clouds. Our sun is 93 million miles away from us, and its heat and light announce new life on earth every day.
“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”[1]
When John writes “In the beginning” his words take us back to the first word of scripture. John’s words take us back to before the beginning, before any of what we know and imagine was begun. He writes of a time when all there was of our world was yet to be spoken. He writes of a time when the heavenly host is all there was. He writes of a time before this creation when the Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit existed three-in-one. He writes of a time before the God’s own self, the Blessed Trinity created the likes of us.
Today John writes of that beginning all over again. John reminds us Jesus was with God in the beginning. And as God and with God all things were made through him. Nothing that was or ever has been made was made without him.
In him is the life and that life was then and is now the light of men. Truly, his life is not just the light of men but of all creation. On this Christmas Day, we testify.
How beautiful on the mountains
are the feet of those who bring good news,
who proclaim peace,
who bring good tidings,
who proclaim salvation,
who say to Zion
“Your God reigns!”
We hear the Good News all creation longs to hear, longs to believe. The Good News that Christ is born is the Good News. The prophet Isaiah tells us those who bring good news, who proclaim peace, who bring good tidings, who proclaim salvation who say “Your God reigns!” upon the mountains have beautiful feet.
To have beautiful feet. Beautiful feet aren’t necessarily pretty feet. It isn’t a salon pedicure that makes feet beautiful; it is the word the feet carry. When sharing the word of God Incarnate on this Christmas Day, testifying as a witness to the birth of the Lord in the flesh, this is the source of beautiful feet. The beauty of our feet isn’t in their being, it’s in their bearing.
As we heard in our reading from Hebrews, God has spoken to us by his son whom he has appointed. God has chosen to come among us and walk as we walk, hope as we hope, and pray as we pray. The joy of this message makes our feet beautiful. Fully human and fully divine, Jesus came as a babe, swaddled by his mother and laid in an animal’s feed trough.
He comes with human feet and it is the holy message of the life carried by these feet Isaiah first prophesied. By our feet we continue to testify too, this is the source of beauty, grace, and peace of our feet. How beautiful are the feet that of those who bring the Good News of Christ the Savior.
Isaiah then tells us that the Lord has laid bare his holy arm in the sight of all the nations, and all the ends of the earth will see the salvation of our God. Yet John tells us that the world did not recognize him. The world sees but does not recognize the light, even as it breaks through the horizons of life on this earth to shine. The light overcomes the darkness, but the darkness doesn’t even recognize that it has been overcome.
John testifies the Good News wasn’t obvious when this gospel was written. John’s gospel tells us that though the world came into being through Jesus, the world did not recognize him. He came to his own people, and his own people did not accept him. Those who saw the Christ, the Messiah did not know who he was.
When looking over this sermon, I don’t think I have done anything special. I haven’t given you a detailed parsing of the language, neither Hebrew, nor Greek, nor English. I haven’t blessed you with quotes from historians or theologians either. There is one reason for this; I don’t think it’s necessary. The grace and peace of these words carry a weight that if I tried to add “insight” would come up and rap me in the jaw.
Instead, this is all I want to share with you on this Christmas morning: Today Christ the Savior is born! The Good News of our salvation is that God came as the weakest of all, a babe born to a maiden; it is not just this humble beginning but from this humble beginning that all creation is made and all creation is redeemed. This is what we believe. This is the greatest gift we can share with one another and with the world. The world may not recognize it, but that does not make the Truth less true. Today we celebrate the birth of our savior.
My father was a photographer, and when I was growing up he had a dark room set up in a downstairs room. This room was between the laundry room, the garage, and the family room. It was a busy area. So whenever he needed to use his developing equipment, he was justifiably paranoid that someone would come downstairs and flip the wrong light switch, ruining his work. He would also have towels under the doors so that the light would not pour into the room from under the doors. It would not take much light to ruin a hard day’s work.
That is where I first learned the lesson that light penetrates the darkness. Even just a little from under the bottom of a door is enough to lighten a room.
John writes that Jesus is the true light, the light which enlightens everyone. And with John we testify that the light has come into the world. The light became flesh. And we testify today is the day of our fair savior’s birth.
We are to lift up, to exalt the one who is the Word and the light, the true light which enlightens us, the one who came and comes into the world. It is when we spread the good news through acts of kindness, and grace, and peace that we shine the light of God. A light that we cannot create, a light which is reflected by us.
In Miracles, C. S. Lewis has this to say about light: “We believe that the sun is in the sky at midday in summer not because we can clearly see the sun (in fact, we cannot) but because we can see everything else.”[2] We believe that the Christ is the true light, very light of very light, very God of very God,[3] and because of this light, we can see the world that he created. And when we reflect this light, it is not we who become visible, it is our Lord. Through peace, and good news, and salvation we are able to see Christ in the world. It is our duty to reflect this light so that our Lord may be seen in all that we are and all that we do.
Sunday, July 03, 2011
I Went to a Garden Party
This sermon was heard at the First Presbyterian Church in Marshall, Texas on July 3, 2011, the 14th Sunday in Ordinary Time.
Podcast of "I Went to a Garden Party" (MP3)
Genesis 24:34–38, 42–49, 58–67
Psalm 45:10–17
Romans 7:15–25a
Matthew 11:16–19, 25–30
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen
Jesus has just finished, well, for the time being I guess, just finished instructing the disciples; then he went to preach and to teach in the towns of Galilee. Before our reading today, Jesus has just met with the disciples of John the Baptist. The Lord has confirmed his identity to John’s disciples by reminding them of his acts declaring actions speak louder than words. He has also told the assembled crowd that John is the prophet who is more than a prophet. As the last prophet to declare the coming of the Lord, John was in essence the last of the Old Testament prophets. But there were many in the crowd that did not hear or accept the words of John or the words and actions of Jesus. So Jesus looks at the crowd and as the old saying goes, this one’s for you.
Jesus gives the word to this generation. He rightly tells the crowd that they expected one thing and got something completely different. This did not please them.
The crowd played the flute, but John did not dance.
The crowd sang a dirge, but Jesus did not mourn.
This isn’t code speech at all. When the holy people got John the Baptist, they didn’t want his harsh words and chilling indictments. John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, “He has a demon.” The people expected one thing and got another. Instead of “shining, happy people” they got the prophet in a leather poncho eating bugs. While the bugs he was eating were within Jewish dietary requirements, they surely weren’t the kind of food the temple leaders ate.
When the holy people got Jesus, they wanted someone who was a more reserved, more reverent. The last thing they wanted was some drunken glutton drawing attention to himself, especially considering the low-life’s he was hanging out with. He’s way too far out on a limb dealing with sinful men and (shocking) sinful women.
When the holy people met both men, they would have preferred someone who would tell them what they wanted to hear, what they expected to hear.
Isn’t that always the way it is?
As sure as the people were unhappy with the oddball prophet from the wilderness, they weren’t too happy with the one who followed him either.
You just can’t please everybody, can you? You act like an Old Testament prophet and the people tell you to lighten up. You lighten up and the people tell you you’ve gone too far and need to reel it back in a notch.
John just doesn’t fit in with what the mainstream establishment considered to be proper. Jesus doesn’t fit in with the mainstreamers either and upsets all worldly wisdom. In the end Jesus reminds the crowd that “wisdom is proved right by her actions.”
Rick Nelson is a name some of you will remember. He was a TV star in the 1950’s with his parents, Ozzie and Harriet Nelson (a big band leader and vocalist in the day) and his brother David on “The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet.” Rick became a pop star in the late 1950’s singing songs like the Fats Domino classic “I’m Walkin’.” In the mid 60’s Rick’s tastes turned more toward the country rock sound that was becoming popular. This new sound had the sad effect of losing many of his old fans who loved the 50’s sound while not gaining any new fans because they were suspicious of his 50’s pop idol status.
This came to a head at Madison Square Garden on October 15, 1971. Rick and his band were on a bill with other pop and rock stars of the 50’s at an old time Rock and Roll Revival show. When the other acts on the bill came to the stage in their costumes from the era, Rick and his band didn’t. They came to the stage in longer hair wearing their stage clothes from their current tour that reflected their current country rock sound. They played their old hits, but then started playing their new stuff too. The new music was not well received. Ultimately Rick and the band left the stage to a chorus of boos. This inspired his last hit song, “Garden Party.”
The chorus goes like this:
But it’s all right now, I learned my lesson well.
You see, ya can't please everyone, so ya got to please yourself.
As Nelson sang, you can’t please everyone. Jesus says, “You say John had a demon and I’m a glutton and drunkard who hangs out with tax collectors and ‘sinners.’” Rick sings ya got to please yourself. Jesus doesn’t go there though.
Instead of pleasing himself Jesus is concerned with pleasing the Father. “I praise you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth because you have hidden these things from the wise and the learned and revealed them to the little children. Yes, Father, for this was your good pleasure.”
Jesus sings, ya can’t please everyone, so ya got to please the Lord.
He goes on. Praying to the Father, Jesus also tells the crowd that the Father has committed all things unto him. No one comes to the Father except through the Son.
This is what makes Christians distinctive from everyone else on earth; we come to the Father through the Son. As for me, I believe in God the Father Almighty creator of heaven and earth, in Jesus Christ his only begotten Son our Lord, and in the Holy Spirit. Some say there are other ways to serve God, but as for this house we will serve the Lord.
Jesus then promises he will reveal the father to all whom he chooses. The glorious news for the world is that Jesus wants everyone to receive the Father. Jesus chooses the world to receive the Good News; the kingdom of God is near.
Jesus invites us come. There is not one of us who is not weary or burdened and Jesus promises us rest. He invites us to take his yoke and learn from him. He promises he is gentle and humble in heart. In Him we will find rest in our souls.
Jesus tells us that his yoke is easy and his burden is light. I don’t have to tell you that this doesn’t always seem true for the disciples of the Christ. Many are forced to surrender all they have, even their lives for the truth of Christ the Lord. But there is something special about the type of yoke Jesus mentions.
The standard oxen yoke of the first century hasn’t changed a whole lot. It’s not unlike the covered wagon yoke of the nineteenth century. What makes this so special is that the yoke was designed for two animals. It’s not one but two oxen who take the yoke to pull the plow or wagon. Jesus uses the yoke as a model telling us that we are not in this alone. We aren’t called to take up our yoke; we are called to take up his, with him.
The joy of this yoke is that there is always one lead animal and one follower. As Jesus tells us to take up his yoke; we are to join him as he leads us to do the work he has already begun, work that continues today. Jesus continues his work today, the work begun in his life and death and resurrection continues. God never stops. God never stops creating.
Scripture says God never changes. This is true. What scripture never says is that God is done with us. Scripture does not say human understanding of God’s wisdom ended in Eden, the sharing of the Law, or the word of the Prophets. If the work and Word of God was absolutely complete with the resurrection then the Epistles would not have been necessary to further explain the Good News to the early church and us today.
There is new work being done in Jesus Christ everyday. It is seen in fresh water projects in Central and South America. It is seen in building projects in the Ninth Ward and Joplin, Missouri. It is seen here in Marshall in how we help feed people through My Friend’s House.
The new work being commanded at the end of Matthew’s gospel in the Great Commission is explained here in Matthew 11. How do we go and make disciples? First we take the yoke of Christ and go where he leads.
There is something new being done in Christ. The last verse of “Garden Party” speaks to this.
If you gotta play at garden parties, I wish you a lotta luck,
But if memories were all I sang, I rather drive a truck.
In the song, Rick Nelson sings that if all he was going to do is go to garden parties, sing nostalgia shows and become a relic of the Rock and Roll era of the 1950’s, he’d rather do something else. I believe God is saying this too. If we put God in a box on a shelf, ending God’s good work of creation and redemption in the dust of the first century, he’d rather be driving a truck too.
Whenever we believe that the wisdom of the first century is the end all and be all of our faith, whenever we think that God quit creating after the Eden story of Genesis, whenever we think that the work of the Spirit ended with the Pentecost; we need to think of this Garden Party. Jesus will not be contained by low expectations bound to the specter of history.
Jesus is creating new music. Jesus calls us to dance. We are to take up the yoke and follow, not to take up the yoke and just stand there. As I said when I began, “Jesus looks at the crowd and as the old saying goes, this one’s for you.” Our question is are we part of the generation who will not hear the tune Jesus is playing or are we willing to dance as he plays.
Jesus continues to lead us today. Jesus continues to call us to follow. So now it’s up to us. John prepares the way. Jesus calls the tune. Jesus and John show there are times to mourn and times to dance. It is up to us to follow whichever music or Lord calls.
Podcast of "I Went to a Garden Party" (MP3)
Genesis 24:34–38, 42–49, 58–67
Psalm 45:10–17
Romans 7:15–25a
Matthew 11:16–19, 25–30
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen
Jesus has just finished, well, for the time being I guess, just finished instructing the disciples; then he went to preach and to teach in the towns of Galilee. Before our reading today, Jesus has just met with the disciples of John the Baptist. The Lord has confirmed his identity to John’s disciples by reminding them of his acts declaring actions speak louder than words. He has also told the assembled crowd that John is the prophet who is more than a prophet. As the last prophet to declare the coming of the Lord, John was in essence the last of the Old Testament prophets. But there were many in the crowd that did not hear or accept the words of John or the words and actions of Jesus. So Jesus looks at the crowd and as the old saying goes, this one’s for you.
Jesus gives the word to this generation. He rightly tells the crowd that they expected one thing and got something completely different. This did not please them.
The crowd played the flute, but John did not dance.
The crowd sang a dirge, but Jesus did not mourn.
This isn’t code speech at all. When the holy people got John the Baptist, they didn’t want his harsh words and chilling indictments. John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, “He has a demon.” The people expected one thing and got another. Instead of “shining, happy people” they got the prophet in a leather poncho eating bugs. While the bugs he was eating were within Jewish dietary requirements, they surely weren’t the kind of food the temple leaders ate.
When the holy people got Jesus, they wanted someone who was a more reserved, more reverent. The last thing they wanted was some drunken glutton drawing attention to himself, especially considering the low-life’s he was hanging out with. He’s way too far out on a limb dealing with sinful men and (shocking) sinful women.
When the holy people met both men, they would have preferred someone who would tell them what they wanted to hear, what they expected to hear.
Isn’t that always the way it is?
As sure as the people were unhappy with the oddball prophet from the wilderness, they weren’t too happy with the one who followed him either.
You just can’t please everybody, can you? You act like an Old Testament prophet and the people tell you to lighten up. You lighten up and the people tell you you’ve gone too far and need to reel it back in a notch.
John just doesn’t fit in with what the mainstream establishment considered to be proper. Jesus doesn’t fit in with the mainstreamers either and upsets all worldly wisdom. In the end Jesus reminds the crowd that “wisdom is proved right by her actions.”
Rick Nelson is a name some of you will remember. He was a TV star in the 1950’s with his parents, Ozzie and Harriet Nelson (a big band leader and vocalist in the day) and his brother David on “The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet.” Rick became a pop star in the late 1950’s singing songs like the Fats Domino classic “I’m Walkin’.” In the mid 60’s Rick’s tastes turned more toward the country rock sound that was becoming popular. This new sound had the sad effect of losing many of his old fans who loved the 50’s sound while not gaining any new fans because they were suspicious of his 50’s pop idol status.
This came to a head at Madison Square Garden on October 15, 1971. Rick and his band were on a bill with other pop and rock stars of the 50’s at an old time Rock and Roll Revival show. When the other acts on the bill came to the stage in their costumes from the era, Rick and his band didn’t. They came to the stage in longer hair wearing their stage clothes from their current tour that reflected their current country rock sound. They played their old hits, but then started playing their new stuff too. The new music was not well received. Ultimately Rick and the band left the stage to a chorus of boos. This inspired his last hit song, “Garden Party.”
The chorus goes like this:
But it’s all right now, I learned my lesson well.
You see, ya can't please everyone, so ya got to please yourself.
As Nelson sang, you can’t please everyone. Jesus says, “You say John had a demon and I’m a glutton and drunkard who hangs out with tax collectors and ‘sinners.’” Rick sings ya got to please yourself. Jesus doesn’t go there though.
Instead of pleasing himself Jesus is concerned with pleasing the Father. “I praise you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth because you have hidden these things from the wise and the learned and revealed them to the little children. Yes, Father, for this was your good pleasure.”
Jesus sings, ya can’t please everyone, so ya got to please the Lord.
He goes on. Praying to the Father, Jesus also tells the crowd that the Father has committed all things unto him. No one comes to the Father except through the Son.
This is what makes Christians distinctive from everyone else on earth; we come to the Father through the Son. As for me, I believe in God the Father Almighty creator of heaven and earth, in Jesus Christ his only begotten Son our Lord, and in the Holy Spirit. Some say there are other ways to serve God, but as for this house we will serve the Lord.
Jesus then promises he will reveal the father to all whom he chooses. The glorious news for the world is that Jesus wants everyone to receive the Father. Jesus chooses the world to receive the Good News; the kingdom of God is near.
Jesus invites us come. There is not one of us who is not weary or burdened and Jesus promises us rest. He invites us to take his yoke and learn from him. He promises he is gentle and humble in heart. In Him we will find rest in our souls.
Jesus tells us that his yoke is easy and his burden is light. I don’t have to tell you that this doesn’t always seem true for the disciples of the Christ. Many are forced to surrender all they have, even their lives for the truth of Christ the Lord. But there is something special about the type of yoke Jesus mentions.
The standard oxen yoke of the first century hasn’t changed a whole lot. It’s not unlike the covered wagon yoke of the nineteenth century. What makes this so special is that the yoke was designed for two animals. It’s not one but two oxen who take the yoke to pull the plow or wagon. Jesus uses the yoke as a model telling us that we are not in this alone. We aren’t called to take up our yoke; we are called to take up his, with him.
The joy of this yoke is that there is always one lead animal and one follower. As Jesus tells us to take up his yoke; we are to join him as he leads us to do the work he has already begun, work that continues today. Jesus continues his work today, the work begun in his life and death and resurrection continues. God never stops. God never stops creating.
Scripture says God never changes. This is true. What scripture never says is that God is done with us. Scripture does not say human understanding of God’s wisdom ended in Eden, the sharing of the Law, or the word of the Prophets. If the work and Word of God was absolutely complete with the resurrection then the Epistles would not have been necessary to further explain the Good News to the early church and us today.
There is new work being done in Jesus Christ everyday. It is seen in fresh water projects in Central and South America. It is seen in building projects in the Ninth Ward and Joplin, Missouri. It is seen here in Marshall in how we help feed people through My Friend’s House.
The new work being commanded at the end of Matthew’s gospel in the Great Commission is explained here in Matthew 11. How do we go and make disciples? First we take the yoke of Christ and go where he leads.
There is something new being done in Christ. The last verse of “Garden Party” speaks to this.
If you gotta play at garden parties, I wish you a lotta luck,
But if memories were all I sang, I rather drive a truck.
In the song, Rick Nelson sings that if all he was going to do is go to garden parties, sing nostalgia shows and become a relic of the Rock and Roll era of the 1950’s, he’d rather do something else. I believe God is saying this too. If we put God in a box on a shelf, ending God’s good work of creation and redemption in the dust of the first century, he’d rather be driving a truck too.
Whenever we believe that the wisdom of the first century is the end all and be all of our faith, whenever we think that God quit creating after the Eden story of Genesis, whenever we think that the work of the Spirit ended with the Pentecost; we need to think of this Garden Party. Jesus will not be contained by low expectations bound to the specter of history.
Jesus is creating new music. Jesus calls us to dance. We are to take up the yoke and follow, not to take up the yoke and just stand there. As I said when I began, “Jesus looks at the crowd and as the old saying goes, this one’s for you.” Our question is are we part of the generation who will not hear the tune Jesus is playing or are we willing to dance as he plays.
Jesus continues to lead us today. Jesus continues to call us to follow. So now it’s up to us. John prepares the way. Jesus calls the tune. Jesus and John show there are times to mourn and times to dance. It is up to us to follow whichever music or Lord calls.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Sorrow of Death--Joy of New Life
This sermon was heard at the First Presbyterian Church in Marshall, Texas on Sunday April 10, 2011, the 5th Sunday in Lent.
Sorrow of Death--Joy of New Life (MP3)
Ezekiel 37:1-14
Philosophies, culture, and such teach us that life is fleeting. Media teaches us that plastic surgery and Botox will keep us young forever, or at least looking young. We see that medicine has extended our life by years. We have learned that life is something to be held onto with a vice-like grip.
Sorrow of Death--Joy of New Life (MP3)
Ezekiel 37:1-14
Psalm 130
Romans 8:6-11
John 11:1-45
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen
During this Lenten journey, several members of the congregation have been enjoying a study called “Fearless: Imagine Your Life Without Fear” by Max Lucado.[i] The lesson from last Tuesday was about the fear of our mortal demise. It’s easy to understand why this is such a tremendous fear in our lives. In death we lose people we love and care for. Often in death things are left undone. In death we lose all control. From our very human point of view we lose all we know and that’s very scary.
Lucado shares what some philosophers say about death.[ii] Aristotle calls death “the end of everything.” Jean-Paul Sartre teaches death “removes all meaning from life.” American agnostic Robert Green Ingersoll calls life the “narrow vale between the cold and barren peaks of two eternities.” François Rabelais made his final words “I am going to the great Perhaps.” Shakespeare gets pessimistic in “Hamlet” dreading “something after death, the undiscover’d country from whose bourn no traveler returns.”
Honestly, who wants to live where this is the last word on death? Going off to the “great perhaps” would surely take meaning not just from death but as Sartre put it from life too. Individually these points of view are utterly depressing. Together, they make life seem completely futile.
The story of Martha, Mary, and Lazarus is not a story like this. The story of Martha, Mary, and Lazarus gives us what it means to mourn and what it means to rejoice in the life of Christ.
Before we get started into the meat of this passage, I would like to serve an appetizer. There are some who say “If your faith is strong enough, there is no reason to mourn. If your faith is strong enough you will know that the dead have gone to a better place. If your faith is strong enough you will rejoice that the dead have gone to be with the Lord.” But I am not one of those people. I would not say that.
Rather, I would remind you of what Jesus said in Matthew 5:4, “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” Not only does Jesus say that mourning is normal, he blesses those who do mourn.
So when Mary and Martha sent the message to the Lord that his friend and their brother Lazarus was ill, they prayed that Jesus would come immediately. They prayed that the Lord would come and heal their brother.
Based on the first eleven chapters of John’s gospel, this wouldn’t be out of line. The first part of John’s gospel presents many signs of the Lord’s divinity. The signs in John’s gospel begin with the wedding in Cana where, even though it was not his time, Jesus made the finest wine. Two weeks ago we heard the story of the Samaritan woman at the well whose life was laid open like a book. Last week we heard the story of the man who was born blind whose eyes were opened. Today Jesus reveals that Lazarus’ “sickness will not end in death. No, [this sickness] is for God’s glory so that God’s Son may be glorified through it.”[iii]
Now this is where it gets sloppy. Scripture plainly tells us that Lazarus, Mary, and Martha love Jesus. It also says Jesus loves them. Yet he stayed where he was. In John 11:18 we read that it’s less than two miles from Jerusalem to Bethany, so it wasn’t very far at all. Jesus and the gang could have made it in less than an hour stopping to smell the roses along the way, but he didn’t. Jesus did not go immediately. Jesus stayed where he was.
Imagine if you will. A loved one is sick, deathly ill, and the only one who can heal, the only one who can bring peace, the only one who can give new life, isn’t coming. You’ve sent for him. It isn’t a long drive to the house or the hospital. He knows the way. He could be there in a moment. You’ve even sent a text.
The one you love is sick and just getting sicker, and the one who can save him is no where to be seen. Yes, you got the message; this sickness will not end in death. Yes, you got the message; this sickness is for God’s glory so that God’s Son may be glorified through it. But even when that word comes from the Lord, the only person you have confidence in; the only thing you really seem to know for sure is that one you love is dying.
Yes, we have confidence in the Lord. Yes we know that the Lord will make everything right. Yes we have confidence in the Lord. And sometimes we say these things because if we say them often enough we might begin to believe them ourselves.
It’s as the father of the spirit possessed boy cried out, “I believe; help my unbelief!”[iv]
Well, the disciples aren’t too upset that Jesus hasn’t hit the road. After all, the last time they were in Judea Jesus was nearly killed by the Scribes and Pharisees. This is why Thomas puts in his two-cents saying, “Let’s go too—and die with Jesus.”[v] Gee, thanks Thomas. You’re so cheery Aristotle and Shakespeare are now depressed.
Finally, two days later, four days after the death of Lazarus, Jesus makes his way toward Bethany. By this time many of the Jews had come to console Mary and Martha on the death of Lazarus.
A note about the Gospel of John: When it says “The Jews” in John’s gospel what it means is “The leaders of the Jews.” It’s a code. Generally speaking it’s like in Tehran and Baghdad where the crowds cry “Death to America” while listening to American pop music. They don’t want to kill Justin Bieber and Beyoncé; they want to kill our government’s leaders.
So it could well be that some of the Jews with Mary and Martha were some of the same leaders who tried to kill Jesus the last time he was in Judea. I don’t wonder if some of the “mourners” were slinging mud at the name of the Lord while “comforting” the sisters. “Oh, where could he be?” and “Couldn’t he have come in time?” followed by the sarcastic rendering of “Oh, what a friend we have in Jesus.”
I need to share another cultural note that is important to this passage, this one about burial practices in the first century: In Hebrew society four days dead meant dead-dead. There was no mistaking that he was put in the tomb while in a coma to awaken later. Lazarus was in the tomb four days dead and there was a bad odor.
So two days later, four days after the death of Lazarus, when he was dead-dead, Jesus is on his way. While he is on the road, word makes it back that Jesus is coming. Martha leaps up to meet him while Mary stayed at home.
“Lord,” she cries, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” Racked with grief, mourning the loss of her brother, I can’t imagine her voice without anger. “Lord, if you had been here my brother would not have died.” Anger is natural. Anger is normal. Peace and understanding in this moment are not signs of strong well adjusted faith. They are signs of overmedication; too much Lexapro and too much Valium.
Her next sentence is the one that takes her anger and adds faith with a plaintive plea, “But I know that even now God will give you whatever you ask.” She knows, despite her sorrow, despite her anger, she knows that Jesus is the Lord, the long awaited Messiah. She knows that her brother will rise again as Jesus promises; she just assumed that it would happen at the resurrection. She doesn’t quite understand what Jesus was really saying, not yet.
Jesus tells her “I am the resurrection and the life.” Martha praises him. Jesus tells her “He who believes in me will live, even though he dies.” Martha praises him. Jesus tells her “whoever lives and believes in me will never die.” Martha praises him. In her sorrow and her grief, she knows and she believes Jesus is the Christ, the Messiah, the Son of God, the one who has come into the world, but she is overwhelmed.
Martha then leaves and goes home. I can only begin to imagine what she was thinking and feeling at this moment. She has the sorrow of death and the promise of new life racing through her head like mice in a maze.
She goes to tell Mary “The teacher is here and he is asking for you.” Martha is shutting down; she’s deflecting attention away from herself and onto her sister. When she gets the news Mary leaps seeking her Lord. The Jewish leaders, the fellow mourners thought she was on her way to the tomb to wail like a shill there. As is so common in their dealings with Jesus, they were mistaken.
Mary cries to the Messiah, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” Her sorrow was deep. She wept and all around her wept also. Her sorrow was so powerful that the Spirit of the Lord Jesus was deeply moved and he was troubled.
Jesus wept.
Is there a more emotional sentence in scripture? Nothing greater has ever been said in fewer words: Jesus wept. Jesus shares our human pain. Jesus mourns with us. In this single moment, the fully-human fully-divine Lord has never been more human. Jesus wept.
After a brief interlude where the Jewish leaders both praise the grief of the Rabbi and doubt his dedication to his friends, Jesus begins to do something. Jesus tells them to remove the stone. Yes, there are some objections since according to the New International Version there was a bad odor. Times like this I prefer the New Revised Standard Version’s rendering that says there was a stench. Stench is a much better word for a four day dead-dead Lazarus.
Jesus tells Martha and Mary specifically, and all who were there in general “Did I not tell you that if you believed you would see the glory of God?” Then Jesus gives glory to God for what was about to happen. He tells the Father and all who are eavesdropping on their conversation that what he does he does for their benefit so that they may believe that he was sent by God.
Then he says in a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out” and he does.
Now imagine the joy. Imagine the surprise, imagine the shock! Lazarus was dead. He was four days dead. He was dead-dead. First there was a stench and now he’s alive. Lazarus is well. Jesus tells everyone to remove the bands of cloth, the remnants of death, they aren’t appropriate anymore. There is joy in Judea. There is joy in Bethany. The family of Lazarus is complete again. Lazarus lives. The sorrow of death is replaced by the joy of new life; new life that comes from the voice of Jesus Christ.
Our reading ends that because of this, many “put their faith in Jesus.”
I want us to know one thing from our reading; one very special thing. Jesus didn’t take away the sorrow of death. Jesus doesn’t take away our mourning. Our lives will continue to be filled with sorrow that brings mourning. In truth, Jesus promises those who do mourn will be comforted. What Jesus brings is new life. Our mourning is comforted because our comfort lies in new life in Jesus Christ.
Jesus weeps with us. Jesus dies for us. Jesus returns for us.
Philosophies, culture, and such teach us that life is fleeting. Media teaches us that plastic surgery and Botox will keep us young forever, or at least looking young. We see that medicine has extended our life by years. We have learned that life is something to be held onto with a vice-like grip.
Jesus teaches us that this life is fleeting, and its loss brings sorrow. Beyond teaching this he promises and he shows us that eternal life has been given to us through his hands. Jesus puts his Spirit in us. His pierced hands bring us new life, a life the old dry bones of Ezekiel know well.
As Ezekiel prophesies, in the joy of new life “you will know that I the Lord have spoken, and I have done it.” In this new life and in the joy of new life in Christ we know that Jesus is Lord. The Lord has spoken.
[i] Lucado, Max, “Fearless: Imagine Your Life Without Fear.” Nashville, TN: Thomas Nelson Publishers, 2009.
[ii] Ibid page 117. More detailed source information on page 220.
[iii] John 11:4b New International Version (NIV)
[iv] Mark 9:24b New Revised Standard Version (NRSV)
[v] John 11:16 New Living Translation (NLT)
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Reprise
This sermon was heard at the First Presbyterian Church in Berryville, Arkansas on Sunday April 26, 2009, the 3rd week of Easter.
Acts 3:12-19
Psalm 4
1 John 3:1-7
Luke 24:36b-48
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen
In the immortal words of the great philosopher Yogi Berra, “It’s déjà vu all over again.” If you are wondering why the committee that put together the texts used for this the third week of the Easter season chose a rerun; your question is valid. My answer may leave you wanting, but your question is very, very good.
So today, as we read Luke’s gospel, we hear the echo from John’s that we read last week. But as with every echo, as the sound returns, it comes with distortions from the first hearing. The similarities between Luke’s version of Jesus’ return to the disciples and the version of the passage we read last week in John abound, and so do the differences. In both the disciples are afraid. In John’s gospel it is fear of the Jewish leadership establishment who spearheaded the crucifixion. In Luke’s gospel, the disciples were afraid because they thought they were seeing a ghost.
Both readings have Jesus affirming his physical presence. John’s gospel shows joyous disciples celebrating the physical return of the Lord in his resurrection body. In Luke’s gospel, the disciples were afraid of “Zombie Jesus.”
But Luke’s gospel gives us something wonderful, something so fully human. Jesus asks for a snack. The King of kings and the Lord of lords asks his buddies for a bite to eat. The fully divine Christ shows Jesus’ most fully human needs seeking hospitality.
Remember that these events took place on the day of the resurrection. This is the evening of Easter Sunday, and beginning with Good Friday, it’s been a hard weekend. Imagine how Jesus had spent those last three days…
First there is the ordeal with the cross that happens even before the Romans nail him to the thing. We have recently scrutinized the process of death by crucifixion in some detail, so let’s simply remind ourselves that it is a slow, painful death. Put on top of this the scalding Judean sun and the taste of the bitter wine from the branches of the hyssop.
Then there’s the whole “he descended into hell” thing. Paul’s letter to the Ephesians[i] gives us this piece of Jesus’ life-after-death-before-resurrection life. Scripture opens this can of worms, but it does not share the events that occurred during the death of the Lord. Even the creeds are silent on what happened while Jesus danced with the devil.
Just for good measure, let us not forget the doubters who suspect that Jesus was faking it; he was just in a coma or something like that. Well, the spear through his side into his lung and heart should have finished off that hypothesis. Jesus is not the object of a “Monty Python and the Holy Grail” scene screaming “I’m not dead yet!” So let us not quibble over this issue. Jesus died and let me say for the third week in a row, dead is dead.
This gives us yet another theological predicament, when we testify Jesus dies; we testify that God dies. We testify that God incarnate dies, not just the fully human Jesus of Nazareth, but the fully divine Christ of God dies too. Jesus and the Christ being one and the same, these essences cannot be separated one from another; not in heaven, not on earth, and not even in hell.
This is hard for us to wrap our heads around. It’s so hard that it lead one of the ancient church fathers, a priest named Arius, to say that Jesus and God are not of the same substance, to say that Jesus is not God. But we say this is a false teaching, a heresy. Jesus is God and is of God; in the words of the Nicene Creed, created not begotten.
If there was one experience that the God of creation never had, it was death. God created life and until that very moment nearly two thousand years ago on a garbage dump in the Judean sun, God’s own self had not personally known death. Death introduces itself to God that day, and for two days more the two square off.
We may not know exactly what “descended into hell” means, and this is as close as I am going to get today. So all things considered, is it any wonder Jesus needed a snack and maybe a little something to wash it down?
We learn what the disciples learn at this moment, we learn that Jesus conquers death. Jesus returns still fully human and still fully divine. He conquered death in that moment and for our salvation death remains conquered. Jesus meets the one thing that will ultimately conquer us all, and defeats death so that its sting is only fleeting.
In Christ’s victory over death, life is shown to be eternal, death only temporary. We testify this crying out with the words of the Apostles' Creed, “The third day he rose again from the dead.” We testify this crying out with the Easter declaration “He is risen, He is risen indeed.”
In resurrected life, Jesus performs the miracle of teaching us again and again the things he taught his disciples. In this story of Jesus resurrection appearance and its parallels, the promises of God are fulfilled; showing creation and the created that Jesus’ words about the future life of the community are the source of new life.[ii]
He opens us to the truth of the scriptures written about him and fulfilled by him. The truth of repentance and forgiveness of sins proclaimed in his name beginning from Jerusalem, the truth proclaimed from the ends of the world to your town.[iii]
While my musical tastes run toward classic and alternative rock, I love a good symphonic music. Particularly what I love are hearing musical themes repeat themselves like waves crashing. Sometimes they are played by different instruments or in different keys. Sometimes the tempo is changed, whether faster or slower, sometimes interpolated with other themes. I love it when a good theme is revisited and presented again.
It brings me back to an emotional, even spiritual place in the work that turns on a particular phrase of music. What I admire about this form is that while identified with classical music, the reprise is common to all genres of music. You can hear it in rock, you can hear it in country, and you can hear it particularly in soul music. Sergei Prokofiev does it in “Peter and the Wolf” and Pete Townshend does it in “Quadrophenia.” Today, in our reading from Luke we hear another reprise.
The theme is the story of Jesus’ resurrection appearance before his disciples; and the committee that put together the scripture list for our worship readings put these two messages together, one after another, so that we may hear the word of God and listen to the differences between the musical colors of the themes. John presents Jesus as a glorious being and Luke, the Good Physician Luke gives us Jesus who is a living man and not a ghost.
One gives us fear of the Jewish leadership establishment and the other fear of the resurrected Lord. Both give us God in fellowship with his disciples. Both provide food for the soul, while one provides food for the body. Today, at the table, in the Lord’s Supper; we celebrate the holy meal that feeds us body and soul by the bread and the cup.
Maybe this is the reason for our case of déjà vu all over again, so that we may hear the same story in a slightly different voice; so that we can see of the disciple’s experience from a different point of view. Different gospels focus on different elements; different pastors focus on different elements. Maybe we are hearing the same-story-only-different so that we may hear it again for the first time and so that it may seep into the recesses of our souls and our lives just a little bit deeper.
We hear the echo and we hear it reverberate throughout God’s good creation. We hear the words echo again; the words of God’s peace through the voice of the son Jesus Christ. We participate in the mystical presence of the one who comes into a room that is locked. We are invited to see and to touch his hands, feet, and side. We see the fully human, we touch the fully divine. In a musical sense, as one of these stories comes as point, the other comes as counterpoint.
Variations on a theme.
The theme of Christ’s life and our salvation.
This is life worth sharing. God gives us the tune and the lyric, and we are called to share it again and again as the great reprise of life everlasting ebbs and flows over us.
[i] Ephesians 4:9
[ii] New Interpreter’s Study Bible, Electronic Edition, Comment on John 20:19
[iii] Taupin, Bernie, “Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy.” Dick James Music
Acts 3:12-19
Psalm 4
1 John 3:1-7
Luke 24:36b-48
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen
In the immortal words of the great philosopher Yogi Berra, “It’s déjà vu all over again.” If you are wondering why the committee that put together the texts used for this the third week of the Easter season chose a rerun; your question is valid. My answer may leave you wanting, but your question is very, very good.
So today, as we read Luke’s gospel, we hear the echo from John’s that we read last week. But as with every echo, as the sound returns, it comes with distortions from the first hearing. The similarities between Luke’s version of Jesus’ return to the disciples and the version of the passage we read last week in John abound, and so do the differences. In both the disciples are afraid. In John’s gospel it is fear of the Jewish leadership establishment who spearheaded the crucifixion. In Luke’s gospel, the disciples were afraid because they thought they were seeing a ghost.
Both readings have Jesus affirming his physical presence. John’s gospel shows joyous disciples celebrating the physical return of the Lord in his resurrection body. In Luke’s gospel, the disciples were afraid of “Zombie Jesus.”
But Luke’s gospel gives us something wonderful, something so fully human. Jesus asks for a snack. The King of kings and the Lord of lords asks his buddies for a bite to eat. The fully divine Christ shows Jesus’ most fully human needs seeking hospitality.
Remember that these events took place on the day of the resurrection. This is the evening of Easter Sunday, and beginning with Good Friday, it’s been a hard weekend. Imagine how Jesus had spent those last three days…
First there is the ordeal with the cross that happens even before the Romans nail him to the thing. We have recently scrutinized the process of death by crucifixion in some detail, so let’s simply remind ourselves that it is a slow, painful death. Put on top of this the scalding Judean sun and the taste of the bitter wine from the branches of the hyssop.
Then there’s the whole “he descended into hell” thing. Paul’s letter to the Ephesians[i] gives us this piece of Jesus’ life-after-death-before-resurrection life. Scripture opens this can of worms, but it does not share the events that occurred during the death of the Lord. Even the creeds are silent on what happened while Jesus danced with the devil.
Just for good measure, let us not forget the doubters who suspect that Jesus was faking it; he was just in a coma or something like that. Well, the spear through his side into his lung and heart should have finished off that hypothesis. Jesus is not the object of a “Monty Python and the Holy Grail” scene screaming “I’m not dead yet!” So let us not quibble over this issue. Jesus died and let me say for the third week in a row, dead is dead.
This gives us yet another theological predicament, when we testify Jesus dies; we testify that God dies. We testify that God incarnate dies, not just the fully human Jesus of Nazareth, but the fully divine Christ of God dies too. Jesus and the Christ being one and the same, these essences cannot be separated one from another; not in heaven, not on earth, and not even in hell.
This is hard for us to wrap our heads around. It’s so hard that it lead one of the ancient church fathers, a priest named Arius, to say that Jesus and God are not of the same substance, to say that Jesus is not God. But we say this is a false teaching, a heresy. Jesus is God and is of God; in the words of the Nicene Creed, created not begotten.
If there was one experience that the God of creation never had, it was death. God created life and until that very moment nearly two thousand years ago on a garbage dump in the Judean sun, God’s own self had not personally known death. Death introduces itself to God that day, and for two days more the two square off.
We may not know exactly what “descended into hell” means, and this is as close as I am going to get today. So all things considered, is it any wonder Jesus needed a snack and maybe a little something to wash it down?
We learn what the disciples learn at this moment, we learn that Jesus conquers death. Jesus returns still fully human and still fully divine. He conquered death in that moment and for our salvation death remains conquered. Jesus meets the one thing that will ultimately conquer us all, and defeats death so that its sting is only fleeting.
In Christ’s victory over death, life is shown to be eternal, death only temporary. We testify this crying out with the words of the Apostles' Creed, “The third day he rose again from the dead.” We testify this crying out with the Easter declaration “He is risen, He is risen indeed.”
In resurrected life, Jesus performs the miracle of teaching us again and again the things he taught his disciples. In this story of Jesus resurrection appearance and its parallels, the promises of God are fulfilled; showing creation and the created that Jesus’ words about the future life of the community are the source of new life.[ii]
He opens us to the truth of the scriptures written about him and fulfilled by him. The truth of repentance and forgiveness of sins proclaimed in his name beginning from Jerusalem, the truth proclaimed from the ends of the world to your town.[iii]
While my musical tastes run toward classic and alternative rock, I love a good symphonic music. Particularly what I love are hearing musical themes repeat themselves like waves crashing. Sometimes they are played by different instruments or in different keys. Sometimes the tempo is changed, whether faster or slower, sometimes interpolated with other themes. I love it when a good theme is revisited and presented again.
It brings me back to an emotional, even spiritual place in the work that turns on a particular phrase of music. What I admire about this form is that while identified with classical music, the reprise is common to all genres of music. You can hear it in rock, you can hear it in country, and you can hear it particularly in soul music. Sergei Prokofiev does it in “Peter and the Wolf” and Pete Townshend does it in “Quadrophenia.” Today, in our reading from Luke we hear another reprise.
The theme is the story of Jesus’ resurrection appearance before his disciples; and the committee that put together the scripture list for our worship readings put these two messages together, one after another, so that we may hear the word of God and listen to the differences between the musical colors of the themes. John presents Jesus as a glorious being and Luke, the Good Physician Luke gives us Jesus who is a living man and not a ghost.
One gives us fear of the Jewish leadership establishment and the other fear of the resurrected Lord. Both give us God in fellowship with his disciples. Both provide food for the soul, while one provides food for the body. Today, at the table, in the Lord’s Supper; we celebrate the holy meal that feeds us body and soul by the bread and the cup.
Maybe this is the reason for our case of déjà vu all over again, so that we may hear the same story in a slightly different voice; so that we can see of the disciple’s experience from a different point of view. Different gospels focus on different elements; different pastors focus on different elements. Maybe we are hearing the same-story-only-different so that we may hear it again for the first time and so that it may seep into the recesses of our souls and our lives just a little bit deeper.
We hear the echo and we hear it reverberate throughout God’s good creation. We hear the words echo again; the words of God’s peace through the voice of the son Jesus Christ. We participate in the mystical presence of the one who comes into a room that is locked. We are invited to see and to touch his hands, feet, and side. We see the fully human, we touch the fully divine. In a musical sense, as one of these stories comes as point, the other comes as counterpoint.
Variations on a theme.
The theme of Christ’s life and our salvation.
This is life worth sharing. God gives us the tune and the lyric, and we are called to share it again and again as the great reprise of life everlasting ebbs and flows over us.
[i] Ephesians 4:9
[ii] New Interpreter’s Study Bible, Electronic Edition, Comment on John 20:19
[iii] Taupin, Bernie, “Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy.” Dick James Music
Sunday, March 01, 2009
Being Torn
This sermon was heard at the First Presbyterian Church in Berryville, Arkansas on the First Sunday in Lent, March 1, 2009.
Genesis 9:8-17
Psalm 25:1-10
1 Peter 3:18-22
Mark 1:9-15
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen
Today is the first Sunday of Lent, the first Sunday of a season of preparation and penitence, taking us seven weeks through the teaching and preaching of Jesus, moving to his triumphant entry into Jerusalem; his crucifixion and death; and his glorious resurrection.
Today we return to scripture we explored in other recent gospel readings. We begin with the Baptism of the Lord and the first proclamation of the Good News, the proclamation that this is the Son, the Beloved, with whom God is well pleased.
We have also looked at the last two verses of our reading as Jesus tells the world “The Kingdom of God is near. Repent and believe the good news.” In between is a piece that is always a part of the lectionary readings for the First Sunday in Lent, Christ’s temptation by Satan.
In the church, Lent is historically a season of preparation for baptism. So today we begin our reading with the baptism of the Lord. Jesus came to John and was baptized. Such a simple and wonderful vision; Jesus is dipped in the waters and after arising he sees the heavens split open. Then the spirit descends in the same way a dove descends and a voice from the heavens says “you are my Son, the Beloved, in you I am pleased.”
This reading gives us two contrasting visions; we have the gentleness of the spirit descending like a dove with the assuring voice from the heavens saying “you are my Son.” But this comfort is preceded by violence: the glorious and horrible vision of the heavens being split open. The word in Greek is the root of the word we use for someone whose psyche is torn and split into pieces, schizophrenia. This root is also where we get the word used to describe a church split, schism. When describing this splitting of the heavens, only Mark uses this word, the other synoptic gospels use a less violent one.
So in Mark’s gospel, the heavens are split, fractured. There is chaos again in creation not seen since the days of Noah when the flood began. But from this chaos comes the Spirit, descending like a dove despite the chaos in the heavens. From this chaos comes the voice of comfort, the voice of a parent calling a child, “you are mine, you are my Beloved, in you I am pleased.”
This tearing word is used in Mark’s gospel in one other place. When the curtain is torn in the temple, it is not just ripped, it is torn apart; it is ruptured with the power of the word from which we get the word scissor.
I find it amazing that on this First Sunday in Lent we find this verb of such violence tied so closely with such hope. With the splitting of the heavens is the coming of the Holy Spirit, the very Spirit of God descends through the chaos of division. With the curtain between the Holy of Holies being torn, the division between God and humanity is rendered moot. When the curtain is torn “the centurion, who stood facing Jesus, seeing him breathe his last said, ‘Truly this man was God's Son!’”[1]
This splitting, this tearing, this being torn was used in Mark’s gospel both at the beginning of Jesus’ ministry and at the end. That is the end as it is in Mark’s gospel before Jesus is entombed; the end before the resurrection; the end before the new beginning.
This word, schism, has great power. It has been thrown around by good Christians since the early days of the church. It has been a part of church life since Peter ate his first meal with the gentiles. It has been used since the days of the heretics and the Church Universal. It has been used since the split between the Roman and Greek Orthodox churches. It has been used since Henry VIII and Martin Luther. It has been used with John Calvin and John Knox. It is still bandied about today when talking about issues that threaten to divide the Presbyterian Church.
This is a hard word, a powerful word. It is the kind of word that once used is hard to turn back from. It is one of those words that when used in an argument takes everything to a new level, a level that can easily spiral out of control. It can become the point of no return in a relationship.
And it is this power that is exhibited for our favor, for our salvation in this reading. It is when the heavens are being torn asunder that the Spirit of God comes. In the midst of the chaos of the heavens torn apart comes the Holy Spirit in the nick of time.
In the Temple when the curtain, the one thing that separated God’s Holy resting place from the rest of the earth, when it is torn God is no longer contained. God demands entry into creation for the benefit of what God created.
It is what the prophet Isaiah asked for when he prayed “O that you would tear open the heavens and come down, so that the mountains would quake at your presence.” In the midst of violence and danger comes the grace and peace of the Lord.
The spirit that falls like a dove comes to us like the dove that returns to Noah on the ark with a leaf of an olive tree. With the chaos of the waters around Noah, there is a sign of life. After the world has been ripped asunder by the flood, God promises Noah that never again shall there be a flood to destroy the earth. God creates this covenant with Noah by setting down a weapon, a bow.
God puts the bow in the clouds and when it is seen, God is reminded of this covenant. A covenant of faithfulness which is fulfilled in spite of the chaos of the tearing of the heavens, a covenant fulfilled by the descending of the Spirit and the life, death, and resurrection of the Son.
Death takes many forms in this existence. It kills not only life, but those things which make life sacred and meaningful, valuable and beautiful. Death takes many forms. There are fathers who die as fathers, because they are waiting until other obligations are less demanding before becoming acquainted with their sons. There are mothers who die because they sincerely intend to be more attentive to their daughters, but just can’t find the time. There are spouses who promise they will be more understanding toward each other but aren’t. There are people in this room who are alone and lonely, feeling friendless, seeking security and compassion, some are grieving.
The many forms of death; death can even tear apart a loving community. Death tears us apart. That’s what death is—a tearing apart. In the face of such deaths, what can we do to affirm the value of life? What can we do in the face of death except affirm the value of life? But how?[2]
Someone once asked John Wesley that suppose he were to know that he would die at 12:00 midnight the next day, how would he spend the intervening time. His reply: “Why just as I intend to spend it now. I would preach this evening at Gloucester, and again at five tomorrow morning; after that I would ride to Tewkesbury, preach in the afternoon, and meet the societies in the evening. I would then go to Rend Martin’s house, who expects to entertain me, talk and pray with the family as usual, retire to my room at 10 o’clock, commend myself to my heavenly father, lie down to rest and wake up in Glory”[3]
This is a wonderful and glorious story; Wesley had such a confidence in God, his vocation, and his response that he was ready to wake up in Glory at any moment. I read this story and am in awe of Wesley’s answer and his confidence. But as I read this, I see something more important; Wesley was more than prepared to die, he was prepared to live.
When are we going to live, knowing not that we’re going to die some day but knowing we are living? This is life! The sacred is here! Even with grief, struggle and suffering. And the whole living includes death and life, grief and joy.[4]
This power of God, the power of the Spirit upon Christ in the waters of his baptism, the power of God splitting the curtain while Jesus writhes upon the cross; these images of horror and death come with one great additional image, new life. Let us examine this moment in our lives. Let us look upon the danger and see not the death, but the new life in our Lord Jesus Christ.
[1] Mark 15:39
[2] Mark Allstrom, “Talking with Malachi,” March 24, 2002, Australia and New Zealand Unitarian Association Web Site, Anzua.org.
[3] Tan, Paul Lee; Encyclopedia of 7700 Illustrations, Signs of the Times. Assurance Publishers, R. R. Donnelley and Sons, Inc.: Chicago, 1979, Illustration #1500.
[4] Ibid, Allstrom
Genesis 9:8-17
Psalm 25:1-10
1 Peter 3:18-22
Mark 1:9-15
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen
Today is the first Sunday of Lent, the first Sunday of a season of preparation and penitence, taking us seven weeks through the teaching and preaching of Jesus, moving to his triumphant entry into Jerusalem; his crucifixion and death; and his glorious resurrection.
Today we return to scripture we explored in other recent gospel readings. We begin with the Baptism of the Lord and the first proclamation of the Good News, the proclamation that this is the Son, the Beloved, with whom God is well pleased.
We have also looked at the last two verses of our reading as Jesus tells the world “The Kingdom of God is near. Repent and believe the good news.” In between is a piece that is always a part of the lectionary readings for the First Sunday in Lent, Christ’s temptation by Satan.
In the church, Lent is historically a season of preparation for baptism. So today we begin our reading with the baptism of the Lord. Jesus came to John and was baptized. Such a simple and wonderful vision; Jesus is dipped in the waters and after arising he sees the heavens split open. Then the spirit descends in the same way a dove descends and a voice from the heavens says “you are my Son, the Beloved, in you I am pleased.”
This reading gives us two contrasting visions; we have the gentleness of the spirit descending like a dove with the assuring voice from the heavens saying “you are my Son.” But this comfort is preceded by violence: the glorious and horrible vision of the heavens being split open. The word in Greek is the root of the word we use for someone whose psyche is torn and split into pieces, schizophrenia. This root is also where we get the word used to describe a church split, schism. When describing this splitting of the heavens, only Mark uses this word, the other synoptic gospels use a less violent one.
So in Mark’s gospel, the heavens are split, fractured. There is chaos again in creation not seen since the days of Noah when the flood began. But from this chaos comes the Spirit, descending like a dove despite the chaos in the heavens. From this chaos comes the voice of comfort, the voice of a parent calling a child, “you are mine, you are my Beloved, in you I am pleased.”
This tearing word is used in Mark’s gospel in one other place. When the curtain is torn in the temple, it is not just ripped, it is torn apart; it is ruptured with the power of the word from which we get the word scissor.
I find it amazing that on this First Sunday in Lent we find this verb of such violence tied so closely with such hope. With the splitting of the heavens is the coming of the Holy Spirit, the very Spirit of God descends through the chaos of division. With the curtain between the Holy of Holies being torn, the division between God and humanity is rendered moot. When the curtain is torn “the centurion, who stood facing Jesus, seeing him breathe his last said, ‘Truly this man was God's Son!’”[1]
This splitting, this tearing, this being torn was used in Mark’s gospel both at the beginning of Jesus’ ministry and at the end. That is the end as it is in Mark’s gospel before Jesus is entombed; the end before the resurrection; the end before the new beginning.
This word, schism, has great power. It has been thrown around by good Christians since the early days of the church. It has been a part of church life since Peter ate his first meal with the gentiles. It has been used since the days of the heretics and the Church Universal. It has been used since the split between the Roman and Greek Orthodox churches. It has been used since Henry VIII and Martin Luther. It has been used with John Calvin and John Knox. It is still bandied about today when talking about issues that threaten to divide the Presbyterian Church.
This is a hard word, a powerful word. It is the kind of word that once used is hard to turn back from. It is one of those words that when used in an argument takes everything to a new level, a level that can easily spiral out of control. It can become the point of no return in a relationship.
And it is this power that is exhibited for our favor, for our salvation in this reading. It is when the heavens are being torn asunder that the Spirit of God comes. In the midst of the chaos of the heavens torn apart comes the Holy Spirit in the nick of time.
In the Temple when the curtain, the one thing that separated God’s Holy resting place from the rest of the earth, when it is torn God is no longer contained. God demands entry into creation for the benefit of what God created.
It is what the prophet Isaiah asked for when he prayed “O that you would tear open the heavens and come down, so that the mountains would quake at your presence.” In the midst of violence and danger comes the grace and peace of the Lord.
The spirit that falls like a dove comes to us like the dove that returns to Noah on the ark with a leaf of an olive tree. With the chaos of the waters around Noah, there is a sign of life. After the world has been ripped asunder by the flood, God promises Noah that never again shall there be a flood to destroy the earth. God creates this covenant with Noah by setting down a weapon, a bow.
God puts the bow in the clouds and when it is seen, God is reminded of this covenant. A covenant of faithfulness which is fulfilled in spite of the chaos of the tearing of the heavens, a covenant fulfilled by the descending of the Spirit and the life, death, and resurrection of the Son.
Death takes many forms in this existence. It kills not only life, but those things which make life sacred and meaningful, valuable and beautiful. Death takes many forms. There are fathers who die as fathers, because they are waiting until other obligations are less demanding before becoming acquainted with their sons. There are mothers who die because they sincerely intend to be more attentive to their daughters, but just can’t find the time. There are spouses who promise they will be more understanding toward each other but aren’t. There are people in this room who are alone and lonely, feeling friendless, seeking security and compassion, some are grieving.
The many forms of death; death can even tear apart a loving community. Death tears us apart. That’s what death is—a tearing apart. In the face of such deaths, what can we do to affirm the value of life? What can we do in the face of death except affirm the value of life? But how?[2]
Someone once asked John Wesley that suppose he were to know that he would die at 12:00 midnight the next day, how would he spend the intervening time. His reply: “Why just as I intend to spend it now. I would preach this evening at Gloucester, and again at five tomorrow morning; after that I would ride to Tewkesbury, preach in the afternoon, and meet the societies in the evening. I would then go to Rend Martin’s house, who expects to entertain me, talk and pray with the family as usual, retire to my room at 10 o’clock, commend myself to my heavenly father, lie down to rest and wake up in Glory”[3]
This is a wonderful and glorious story; Wesley had such a confidence in God, his vocation, and his response that he was ready to wake up in Glory at any moment. I read this story and am in awe of Wesley’s answer and his confidence. But as I read this, I see something more important; Wesley was more than prepared to die, he was prepared to live.
When are we going to live, knowing not that we’re going to die some day but knowing we are living? This is life! The sacred is here! Even with grief, struggle and suffering. And the whole living includes death and life, grief and joy.[4]
This power of God, the power of the Spirit upon Christ in the waters of his baptism, the power of God splitting the curtain while Jesus writhes upon the cross; these images of horror and death come with one great additional image, new life. Let us examine this moment in our lives. Let us look upon the danger and see not the death, but the new life in our Lord Jesus Christ.
[1] Mark 15:39
[2] Mark Allstrom, “Talking with Malachi,” March 24, 2002, Australia and New Zealand Unitarian Association Web Site, Anzua.org.
[3] Tan, Paul Lee; Encyclopedia of 7700 Illustrations, Signs of the Times. Assurance Publishers, R. R. Donnelley and Sons, Inc.: Chicago, 1979, Illustration #1500.
[4] Ibid, Allstrom
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Introductions
This sermon was heard at the First Presbyterian Church in Berryville, Arkansas on January 20, 2008, the Second Sunday of Ordinary Time.
Isaiah 49:1-7
Psalm 40:1-11
1 Corinthians 1:1-9
John 1:29-42
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen
Sir Henry Morton Stanley was an extremely resourceful man.[1] Born in a family that would have been comfortable on The Maury Show, he was initially raised by his grandfather. After he died, Stanley went to live with cousins. Sent from there to a workhouse for the poor, at fifteen he became a pupil-teacher in a Welsh Anglican School. At eighteen he immigrated to New Orleans where he fought on both sides of the American Civil War.
He soon began a career in journalism; visiting mines, reporting on conflicts with Native Americans, and joining an expedition to establish the course of a river. He even organized an expedition to the Ottoman Empire that landed him in a Turkish prison, but somehow talked himself out of jail receiving damages for lost equipment.
Stanley was eventually retained by James Gordon Bennett, founder of the New York Herald, who was impressed by Stanley's exploits and by his direct writing style. He became one of the Herald’s overseas correspondents and in 1869 was instructed by Bennett's son to find the Scottish Presbyterian pioneer, medical missionary, and explorer Dr. David Livingstone, who was known to be in Africa but had not been heard from for some time.
Stanley and his expedition traveled to Zanzibar in March 1871. The expedition through the tropical forest became a nightmare. Imagine plodding across African tropical jungles, crossing over 700 miles, fighting disease and insects, losing porters and supplies daily in this mess. Nine months later, a full three seasons including a tropical African summer, these two men meet. Finally Stanley found Livingstone on November 10, 1871, in Ujiji near Lake Tanganyka in present-day Tanzania, greeting him with the now famous, “Dr. Livingstone, I presume?”
Now, no one can ever know exactly was what was said. Stanley destroyed his diary pages from these days and Livingstone made no mention of these words in his journals. But in the English language, I can’t think of a more famous introduction. This has become the stuff of legends. To this day most of us know this classically understated introduction, “Dr. Livingstone, I presume?”
Greetings and introductions are how we present our selves to others. Some times we introduce ourselves by where we live or what we do. Sometimes we introduce ourselves by who our parents are or where we were born. This piece from John’s gospel is loaded with many different introductions.
John begins by introducing Jesus to those who are around him. He says, “Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!” How’s that for an introduction, you’re walking down the levee and suddenly your cousin, the guy in camel hair, introduces you to everyone within shouting distance, using words from Exodus. “Here comes the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!”
Using this image, John invokes the purpose of the Paschal lamb, the lamb slaughtered and eaten at the Passover. The lamb whose blood was placed around the doors of the sons and daughters of Israel so the angel of death would pass over their homes. John’s disciples along with the Sadducees, Pharisees, scribes, lawyers and pretty much everyone else at the river would have known exactly what John meant.
Then John tells the assembly “This is he of whom I said, ‘After me comes a man who ranks ahead of me because he was before me.’” This seems mysterious as introductions go, but no more so than the introduction to the gospel itself, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God.”[2]
Separately, these words are mystifying, together they explain one another. Since Jesus was in the beginning with God, of course he came before John. And born about six months after the Baptist, Jesus has been since before the beginning. Again, in words the assembly would understand, John introduces Jesus to the world.
Then John says something we don’t expect, “I myself did not know him.” This is odd because they’re cousins for crying out loud. Of course they knew each other. But there’s knowing; and there’s knowing. Of course John knew who Jesus was, but when John saw the Spirit descend from heaven like a dove and remain on him, only then did he truly know.
By these sayings; Jesus ranking ahead of John, Jesus coming before John, and John not knowing Jesus, we come to know who the Baptist is. John introduces himself to us. We know that he is not the Messiah, but rather the one who comes before him. John is not God; rather he comes as a witness to testify to the presence of the Son of God. He can do this because he knows first who he is. Not only does John see, he testifies. Not only does John know, he shares. Not only is John called, he responds.
Often when we talk about sharing the witness of the Lord with someone we think of an intimate very personal setting, but this is not John’s proclamation. As spectacular as these words are, these first introductions are public, not private. These words are a shout to the world. John is like a ringmaster crying out, “Ladies and gentlemen and children of all ages.” He is telling whoever will listen. But John’s introductions are heard and followed by individuals responding to the word.
This introduction is heard as a personal invitation by two of John’s own disciples. When they were introduced to Jesus, they leave their Rabbi John and follow the new Rabbi, Jesus. And follow they did. They physically got up and pursued Jesus as he made his way from the Jordan.
Next, Jesus turns around seeing two men following him and asks, “What are you looking for?” That’s a loaded question, isn’t it? Does he ask it like he feels uncomfortable with them following? “What are you looking for?” Or maybe he asks them like he all ready knows? “What are you looking for?”
They ask “Teacher, Rabbi, where are you staying?” Jesus invites them to come and see. No mention is made in John’s gospel about what happened that night. What we can imagine is that on this night, this special night when the first two disciples stay with Jesus, they are introduced to a way of life they will share together until their last supper.
But before the three left together, Andrew went to find his brother Simon. Andrew introduces his brother the to revelation that the Messiah has come.
The next day, Andrew brought Simon to Jesus for a proper introduction, but Jesus takes the initiative and makes the introduction instead. “You are Simon son of John. You are to be called Cephas.” Cephas is the Aramaic word for Peter. If you will though, the literal way to translate this name is Rock; maybe even Rocky. In a stunning reversal, Andrew doesn’t introduce Simon to Jesus; Jesus introduces Simon to himself. Jesus knows Peter will be the rock, so the Messiah introduces Simon to Peter, the man he is and the new man in Christ he will become.
John the Baptist introduces himself as the one who testifies about Jesus. John introduces Jesus to the world and to his disciples. John introduces Jesus as the Lamb and who precedes all others. Then Jesus and two of John’s disciples are introduced to each other. The stakes are raised as Jesus introduces them to a taste of what it will be like to be his disciples. But first, Andrew introduces his brother Simon to the fact that the Messiah has come. Finally, marvelously, Jesus introduces himself to Simon and then in an amazing turn Jesus introduces Simon to Peter.
John points the way for everyone to know Jesus. Andrew responds to John’s prompting and tells his brother about the Lamb who will take away the sin of the world. We are fortunate, we have heard these stories. We know the Lamb who is the Christ. We know Simon who became the Rock upon whom the church was built.
Our reading this morning invites us back to a time before we knew, a time when we were like John and Andrew and Simon, not knowing who Jesus really is or what that means for our lives, but aching to know more. We need to be like them, and marvel in the wonder and mystery of the new thing the Messiah does.
We need to be like John, know the prophecy and see Jesus when he appears. We need to be like John, and know who Jesus is when we see the Spirit light upon him and stay. We need to be like John and proclaim the name of Jesus to a weary yet hungry world.
We need to be like Andrew; once he is shown the Son of God he follows like a lamb follows its mother. The ewe leads her lamb and provides what it needs to live. We need to be like Andrew, and once we hear the voice of the one follow and eat the good food of the Lamb of God.
We need to be like Andrew and the unnamed disciple and follow Jesus into a new life of discipleship, even when we have no idea what that may be like. Even in times like in this passage when scripture doesn’t even tell us what their first discipleship experience was like.
We need to be like Andrew, and introduce the Lord to our brothers and sisters. In the light of danger and insecurity, we need to speak the name of the Lord and announce he is the Messiah, the Anointed, the Lamb who takes away the sin of the world, the Son of God.
We need to be like Simon, and become Peter. We need to know who we are and when the Anointed makes us something new, we are to leave the old behind and embrace the new creation in God. And yes, we are bound to be like Peter who never made it easy on himself or his Lord. Yet from his rocky discipleship, he becomes the rock.
We need not only to be available; we need to make ourselves available to those in this world who need to hear the name of the Lord. We need to cry his name from the river and from the rocks. We need to cry the name of the Lamb who takes away the sin of the world to the modern-day Sadducees and Pharisees, the scribes and the experts in the Law. We need to cry his name in our homes with our families. We need to tell the world that may never have heard the name of the Lord who he is and that he makes all things new. Jesus has introduced himself, we need to continue to make the introduction to the world.
The important first step to making the introduction is to listen first as the Lord introduces himself to us in scripture and in prayer. Then when like Simon Peter, as the Son of God introduces us to ourselves, we are to respond to the new life in Jesus Christ.
A couple of weeks ago this part of the Body of Christ ordained and installed new Elders to the Session. In the Presbyterian Church it is usual that in baptism, confirmation, ordination, and installation; the children of God are referred to by their first names alone. The reason for this is wonderful and glorious. The reason for this introduction is that in the church we share the same last name. We are the children of God and by this miracle of grace the family names we carry are an earthly convention. The Lord does not need them to know whose children we are. We are the children of God.
So let us be introduced to Jesus again, sharing in the newness and the wonder of the days following his baptism. Let us listen. Let us follow. And let us share. And in the grace and forgiveness of our Lord Jesus Christ, let us share signs of God’s peace and wondrous love with one another.
The grace and peace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all.
And also with you.[3]
[1] Stanley and Livingstone biographical information taken from Wikipedia articles: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Henry_Morton_Stanley and http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_Livingstone both retrieved January 18, 2008.
[2] John 1:1-2, NRSV
[3] These two sentences are a common liturgical formula.
Isaiah 49:1-7
Psalm 40:1-11
1 Corinthians 1:1-9
John 1:29-42
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen
Sir Henry Morton Stanley was an extremely resourceful man.[1] Born in a family that would have been comfortable on The Maury Show, he was initially raised by his grandfather. After he died, Stanley went to live with cousins. Sent from there to a workhouse for the poor, at fifteen he became a pupil-teacher in a Welsh Anglican School. At eighteen he immigrated to New Orleans where he fought on both sides of the American Civil War.
He soon began a career in journalism; visiting mines, reporting on conflicts with Native Americans, and joining an expedition to establish the course of a river. He even organized an expedition to the Ottoman Empire that landed him in a Turkish prison, but somehow talked himself out of jail receiving damages for lost equipment.
Stanley was eventually retained by James Gordon Bennett, founder of the New York Herald, who was impressed by Stanley's exploits and by his direct writing style. He became one of the Herald’s overseas correspondents and in 1869 was instructed by Bennett's son to find the Scottish Presbyterian pioneer, medical missionary, and explorer Dr. David Livingstone, who was known to be in Africa but had not been heard from for some time.
Stanley and his expedition traveled to Zanzibar in March 1871. The expedition through the tropical forest became a nightmare. Imagine plodding across African tropical jungles, crossing over 700 miles, fighting disease and insects, losing porters and supplies daily in this mess. Nine months later, a full three seasons including a tropical African summer, these two men meet. Finally Stanley found Livingstone on November 10, 1871, in Ujiji near Lake Tanganyka in present-day Tanzania, greeting him with the now famous, “Dr. Livingstone, I presume?”
Now, no one can ever know exactly was what was said. Stanley destroyed his diary pages from these days and Livingstone made no mention of these words in his journals. But in the English language, I can’t think of a more famous introduction. This has become the stuff of legends. To this day most of us know this classically understated introduction, “Dr. Livingstone, I presume?”
Greetings and introductions are how we present our selves to others. Some times we introduce ourselves by where we live or what we do. Sometimes we introduce ourselves by who our parents are or where we were born. This piece from John’s gospel is loaded with many different introductions.
John begins by introducing Jesus to those who are around him. He says, “Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!” How’s that for an introduction, you’re walking down the levee and suddenly your cousin, the guy in camel hair, introduces you to everyone within shouting distance, using words from Exodus. “Here comes the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!”
Using this image, John invokes the purpose of the Paschal lamb, the lamb slaughtered and eaten at the Passover. The lamb whose blood was placed around the doors of the sons and daughters of Israel so the angel of death would pass over their homes. John’s disciples along with the Sadducees, Pharisees, scribes, lawyers and pretty much everyone else at the river would have known exactly what John meant.
Then John tells the assembly “This is he of whom I said, ‘After me comes a man who ranks ahead of me because he was before me.’” This seems mysterious as introductions go, but no more so than the introduction to the gospel itself, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God.”[2]
Separately, these words are mystifying, together they explain one another. Since Jesus was in the beginning with God, of course he came before John. And born about six months after the Baptist, Jesus has been since before the beginning. Again, in words the assembly would understand, John introduces Jesus to the world.
Then John says something we don’t expect, “I myself did not know him.” This is odd because they’re cousins for crying out loud. Of course they knew each other. But there’s knowing; and there’s knowing. Of course John knew who Jesus was, but when John saw the Spirit descend from heaven like a dove and remain on him, only then did he truly know.
By these sayings; Jesus ranking ahead of John, Jesus coming before John, and John not knowing Jesus, we come to know who the Baptist is. John introduces himself to us. We know that he is not the Messiah, but rather the one who comes before him. John is not God; rather he comes as a witness to testify to the presence of the Son of God. He can do this because he knows first who he is. Not only does John see, he testifies. Not only does John know, he shares. Not only is John called, he responds.
Often when we talk about sharing the witness of the Lord with someone we think of an intimate very personal setting, but this is not John’s proclamation. As spectacular as these words are, these first introductions are public, not private. These words are a shout to the world. John is like a ringmaster crying out, “Ladies and gentlemen and children of all ages.” He is telling whoever will listen. But John’s introductions are heard and followed by individuals responding to the word.
This introduction is heard as a personal invitation by two of John’s own disciples. When they were introduced to Jesus, they leave their Rabbi John and follow the new Rabbi, Jesus. And follow they did. They physically got up and pursued Jesus as he made his way from the Jordan.
Next, Jesus turns around seeing two men following him and asks, “What are you looking for?” That’s a loaded question, isn’t it? Does he ask it like he feels uncomfortable with them following? “What are you looking for?” Or maybe he asks them like he all ready knows? “What are you looking for?”
They ask “Teacher, Rabbi, where are you staying?” Jesus invites them to come and see. No mention is made in John’s gospel about what happened that night. What we can imagine is that on this night, this special night when the first two disciples stay with Jesus, they are introduced to a way of life they will share together until their last supper.
But before the three left together, Andrew went to find his brother Simon. Andrew introduces his brother the to revelation that the Messiah has come.
The next day, Andrew brought Simon to Jesus for a proper introduction, but Jesus takes the initiative and makes the introduction instead. “You are Simon son of John. You are to be called Cephas.” Cephas is the Aramaic word for Peter. If you will though, the literal way to translate this name is Rock; maybe even Rocky. In a stunning reversal, Andrew doesn’t introduce Simon to Jesus; Jesus introduces Simon to himself. Jesus knows Peter will be the rock, so the Messiah introduces Simon to Peter, the man he is and the new man in Christ he will become.
John the Baptist introduces himself as the one who testifies about Jesus. John introduces Jesus to the world and to his disciples. John introduces Jesus as the Lamb and who precedes all others. Then Jesus and two of John’s disciples are introduced to each other. The stakes are raised as Jesus introduces them to a taste of what it will be like to be his disciples. But first, Andrew introduces his brother Simon to the fact that the Messiah has come. Finally, marvelously, Jesus introduces himself to Simon and then in an amazing turn Jesus introduces Simon to Peter.
John points the way for everyone to know Jesus. Andrew responds to John’s prompting and tells his brother about the Lamb who will take away the sin of the world. We are fortunate, we have heard these stories. We know the Lamb who is the Christ. We know Simon who became the Rock upon whom the church was built.
Our reading this morning invites us back to a time before we knew, a time when we were like John and Andrew and Simon, not knowing who Jesus really is or what that means for our lives, but aching to know more. We need to be like them, and marvel in the wonder and mystery of the new thing the Messiah does.
We need to be like John, know the prophecy and see Jesus when he appears. We need to be like John, and know who Jesus is when we see the Spirit light upon him and stay. We need to be like John and proclaim the name of Jesus to a weary yet hungry world.
We need to be like Andrew; once he is shown the Son of God he follows like a lamb follows its mother. The ewe leads her lamb and provides what it needs to live. We need to be like Andrew, and once we hear the voice of the one follow and eat the good food of the Lamb of God.
We need to be like Andrew and the unnamed disciple and follow Jesus into a new life of discipleship, even when we have no idea what that may be like. Even in times like in this passage when scripture doesn’t even tell us what their first discipleship experience was like.
We need to be like Andrew, and introduce the Lord to our brothers and sisters. In the light of danger and insecurity, we need to speak the name of the Lord and announce he is the Messiah, the Anointed, the Lamb who takes away the sin of the world, the Son of God.
We need to be like Simon, and become Peter. We need to know who we are and when the Anointed makes us something new, we are to leave the old behind and embrace the new creation in God. And yes, we are bound to be like Peter who never made it easy on himself or his Lord. Yet from his rocky discipleship, he becomes the rock.
We need not only to be available; we need to make ourselves available to those in this world who need to hear the name of the Lord. We need to cry his name from the river and from the rocks. We need to cry the name of the Lamb who takes away the sin of the world to the modern-day Sadducees and Pharisees, the scribes and the experts in the Law. We need to cry his name in our homes with our families. We need to tell the world that may never have heard the name of the Lord who he is and that he makes all things new. Jesus has introduced himself, we need to continue to make the introduction to the world.
The important first step to making the introduction is to listen first as the Lord introduces himself to us in scripture and in prayer. Then when like Simon Peter, as the Son of God introduces us to ourselves, we are to respond to the new life in Jesus Christ.
A couple of weeks ago this part of the Body of Christ ordained and installed new Elders to the Session. In the Presbyterian Church it is usual that in baptism, confirmation, ordination, and installation; the children of God are referred to by their first names alone. The reason for this is wonderful and glorious. The reason for this introduction is that in the church we share the same last name. We are the children of God and by this miracle of grace the family names we carry are an earthly convention. The Lord does not need them to know whose children we are. We are the children of God.
So let us be introduced to Jesus again, sharing in the newness and the wonder of the days following his baptism. Let us listen. Let us follow. And let us share. And in the grace and forgiveness of our Lord Jesus Christ, let us share signs of God’s peace and wondrous love with one another.
The grace and peace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all.
And also with you.[3]
[1] Stanley and Livingstone biographical information taken from Wikipedia articles: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Henry_Morton_Stanley and http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_Livingstone both retrieved January 18, 2008.
[2] John 1:1-2, NRSV
[3] These two sentences are a common liturgical formula.
Sunday, March 25, 2007
The House Was Filled
This sermon was delivered at the First Presbyterian Church in Berryville, Arkansas on the Fifth Sunday in Lent of Year C, March 25, 2007
Isaiah 43:16-21
Psalm 126
Philippians 3:4b-14
John 12:1-8
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen.
One of the traditions of the ancient church is the burning of incense. Often when people talk about high church traditions, they use the phrase “smells and bells.” Well, those of us who worship in reformation tradition churches aren’t very well connected to the “smells and bells,” and this isn’t all bad. One of the points of the reformation was that the meanings of the liturgy were lost to the people because only the priests participated in them. In the middle ages, the most significant parts of worship became more of a spectator sport than a participation event.
It’s the difference between watching Monday Night Football on ESPN and playing in a Saturday afternoon pick-up game. Both help give exposure to the mysteries of what’s going on in the sport, but only in participating do the work and the mystery come together into something to truly sink our teeth into. This is why we welcome everyone to come to the font. This is why we welcome everyone to come to the table. This is why we welcome everyone to participate in the work and worship of the congregation.
But in losing the “smells and bells,” we lose a connection to thousands of years of worship tradition. There is an old Anglo-Saxon blessing of incense goes like this:
“May my song rise like incense in thy presence. And for us may it be a perfume of consolation, of goodness, and grace, so that these fumes will drive out every phantom from the mind and body, leaving us, as the Apostle Paul phrased it, smelling sweetly of God. May all the attacks of demons fly from this incense like dust before the wind, like smoke before dancing flames.”[1]
The burning of incense is a way of offering, literally raising, prayer and praise. The burnt offerings of the Old Testament were offered for a variety of reasons, all having to do with the worship of the Lord. In the smoke and scent, the worship of the people was lifted on high. It focused the people on the work at hand, worship of the Lord. But there were other scented offerings made in ancient Israel, and this aromatic anointing is what we hear about today in our gospel reading.
Jesus has come to Bethany, the home of Lazarus, where he was served dinner. Some translations lift this up as a special banquet, sort of welcoming the conquering heroes: Lazarus and Jesus, the one who returned from the dead and the one who brought him back. As for me, I prefer the plainer translations, just a supper instead of a banquet. I prefer to think of this as a quiet dinner at home, albeit a quiet dinner with an obsessive-compulsive workaholic hostess, her emotionally theatrical sister,[2] their brother who was recently so dead that he smelled, the Lord our God, and at least one of his closest friends. You know, since this was Judas maybe I should have used finger quotes, you know, “closest friends.” Yeah, some quiet dinner with the old gang.
Suddenly, Mary comes out with a pound of costly perfume made from pure nard worth three-hundred denarii. To get an indication about how much this cost, the average worker earned one denarius a day with a six day work week. Three hundred denarii would take fifty weeks, nearly one full year to earn. Closer to home, the median household income in Carroll County, Arkansas is around $30,000.00.[3] So imagine going to Dillard’s and paying $30,000.00 for about a pint of perfume. Then imagine using it to wash someone’s feet.
Either Lazarus was loaded, or Mary took this foot washing very seriously.
There is no indication that Lazarus was so rich.
After this most generous act, in the words of the gospel, the house was filled with the aroma of the perfume.
Mary took this valuable offering, this gift of great value, and used it to perform a menial chore. She used it to carry out the duty of a slave;[4] she washed the feet of Jesus. Her extravagance is shown in this ordinary action, an action which gives us a preview of Jesus washing the feet of his disciples. But I shouldn’t change the subject. We’ll hear about that on Maundy Thursday when we read John 13.
Of course, Judas is livid. After all, the extravagance of this gift could be better suited to feed the poor, or to line his pockets after he lifts a coin or two out of their common purse. Now, the theft angle not withstanding, isn’t Judas right? Couldn’t the money have been better used to feed the poor? We talk about mission and evangelism all of the time. We talk about getting funds for school supplies for kids whose families can’t afford them on their own. We talk about collecting for the hungry locally, nationally, and internationally. We do more than just talk, we act. We do something about it. So if it seems like Judas has a point, well, it’s because from our point of view he does.
But Jesus turns the tables with the often quoted eighth verse, “You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.” This has always bothered me. It seems so callous, and that’s not Jesus’ character.
Something that is missing in the translation is that this is a paraphrase from Deuteronomy 15:11, “Since there will never cease to be some in need on the earth, I therefore command you, ‘Open your hand to the poor and needy neighbor in your land.’” Jewish commentaries prioritized acts of compassion, how we open our hand to the poor and needy neighbor, praising the care of the dead above almsgiving.[5] Jesus alludes to this when he says, “Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial.” This isn’t a frivolous use of a costly perfume, Mary is taking care of her poor and needy neighbor as Deuteronomy command. So in a way, Jesus is not being callous toward the plight of the poor, he may be reminding listeners, Judas in particular, that caring for the dead should be emphasized over giving to the poor. Get your priorities straight, dear Judas.
But there is something wrong with this logic. Burial anointing begins with the head, not with the feet. The gospels of Mark and Luke get this detail right when Mary breaks open the jar of nard anointing the head of the Lord.
John makes this a little more complicated as Mary anoints his feet. But there may be two things at play here. The first is that Mary is anointing Jesus in preparation of his death. Certainly Jesus and seemingly Mary know that the hour of Jesus’ death is on the horizon. In anointing him, she acts in love as a faithful disciple of the Lord[6] preparing him for the tomb. Something Judas will fail to do so soon. This is noted in the text, Jesus says it plainly in verse seven. But there is another possible facet to this anointing to explore.
The washing of the feet is not how one is prepared for the tomb. It is a sign of courtesy and hospitality, but in Mary’s hands it becomes more. In washing Jesus’ feet, she anoints him to perform his royal work. As the scent of the perfume filled the house, it wasn’t being filled with the aroma of impending death; it was being filled with the smells of new life, a new life in the anointed Christ.
The house was filled with the aroma of service. The house was filled with the aroma of extravagant giving. This new aroma was even able to cover the smell of Judas’ comment. Yes, Mary has anointed Jesus in preparation of his death, but she has also anointed him in preparation of his life, his work, and his coming passion. Her action fills the house with the aroma of love and devotion, not hypocrisy or mourning.
I have filled this house of worship with an aroma of incense this morning. I have done this to add another element of sensory stimulation to our worship. I have done this to add another medium of lifting our worship. In the words of the Anglo-Saxons, “May our song rise like incense in thy presence.” We need to be like Mary, filling the house with the aroma of life in Christ, not with preparation for death. We need to anoint one another, setting aside one another, preparing one another for the work of the kingdom here on earth. Yes, often we will be called to perform extravagant actions doing menial chores, just like Mary. And like Mary, we are to do this in gracious loving service to the Lord and one another.
May our joyful work and our worship fill this house of God, the houses we dwell, and the world we serve like the nard Mary uses to anoint Jesus and the incense we burn leaving us, as the Apostle Paul phrased it, smelling sweetly of God.
[1] From The Oxford Book of Prayer, edited by Appleton, George. New York: Oxford University Press found in; Archdiocese of Chicago, A Lent Sourcebook, The Forty Days, edited by Baker, J. Robert, et. al. Chicago: Liturgical Training Publications, 1990, page 147.
[2] “Mary” entry #3, Blair, E. P., Entry editor. The Interpreters Dictionary of the Bible. Buttrick, George Arthur, Editor. Nashville: Abingdon Press, 21st Edition, 1962.
[3] http://www.census.gov/cgi-bin/saipe/saipe.cgi, for Carroll County, Arkansas, accessed March 24, 2007.
[4] Ibid, The Interpreters Dictionary of the Bible. “Foot Washing” entry, Shepherd, Jr., M. H., Entry editor.
[5] Mays, James Luther, General Editor, Interpretation, A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching. Sloyan, Gerard, John. Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1988, page 153.
[6] Notes on John 12:7-8, The New Interpreter’s Study Bible New Revised Standard Version with the Apocrypha, Harrelson, Walter H., General Editor. Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2003.
Isaiah 43:16-21
Psalm 126
Philippians 3:4b-14
John 12:1-8
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen.
One of the traditions of the ancient church is the burning of incense. Often when people talk about high church traditions, they use the phrase “smells and bells.” Well, those of us who worship in reformation tradition churches aren’t very well connected to the “smells and bells,” and this isn’t all bad. One of the points of the reformation was that the meanings of the liturgy were lost to the people because only the priests participated in them. In the middle ages, the most significant parts of worship became more of a spectator sport than a participation event.
It’s the difference between watching Monday Night Football on ESPN and playing in a Saturday afternoon pick-up game. Both help give exposure to the mysteries of what’s going on in the sport, but only in participating do the work and the mystery come together into something to truly sink our teeth into. This is why we welcome everyone to come to the font. This is why we welcome everyone to come to the table. This is why we welcome everyone to participate in the work and worship of the congregation.
But in losing the “smells and bells,” we lose a connection to thousands of years of worship tradition. There is an old Anglo-Saxon blessing of incense goes like this:
“May my song rise like incense in thy presence. And for us may it be a perfume of consolation, of goodness, and grace, so that these fumes will drive out every phantom from the mind and body, leaving us, as the Apostle Paul phrased it, smelling sweetly of God. May all the attacks of demons fly from this incense like dust before the wind, like smoke before dancing flames.”[1]
The burning of incense is a way of offering, literally raising, prayer and praise. The burnt offerings of the Old Testament were offered for a variety of reasons, all having to do with the worship of the Lord. In the smoke and scent, the worship of the people was lifted on high. It focused the people on the work at hand, worship of the Lord. But there were other scented offerings made in ancient Israel, and this aromatic anointing is what we hear about today in our gospel reading.
Jesus has come to Bethany, the home of Lazarus, where he was served dinner. Some translations lift this up as a special banquet, sort of welcoming the conquering heroes: Lazarus and Jesus, the one who returned from the dead and the one who brought him back. As for me, I prefer the plainer translations, just a supper instead of a banquet. I prefer to think of this as a quiet dinner at home, albeit a quiet dinner with an obsessive-compulsive workaholic hostess, her emotionally theatrical sister,[2] their brother who was recently so dead that he smelled, the Lord our God, and at least one of his closest friends. You know, since this was Judas maybe I should have used finger quotes, you know, “closest friends.” Yeah, some quiet dinner with the old gang.
Suddenly, Mary comes out with a pound of costly perfume made from pure nard worth three-hundred denarii. To get an indication about how much this cost, the average worker earned one denarius a day with a six day work week. Three hundred denarii would take fifty weeks, nearly one full year to earn. Closer to home, the median household income in Carroll County, Arkansas is around $30,000.00.[3] So imagine going to Dillard’s and paying $30,000.00 for about a pint of perfume. Then imagine using it to wash someone’s feet.
Either Lazarus was loaded, or Mary took this foot washing very seriously.
There is no indication that Lazarus was so rich.
After this most generous act, in the words of the gospel, the house was filled with the aroma of the perfume.
Mary took this valuable offering, this gift of great value, and used it to perform a menial chore. She used it to carry out the duty of a slave;[4] she washed the feet of Jesus. Her extravagance is shown in this ordinary action, an action which gives us a preview of Jesus washing the feet of his disciples. But I shouldn’t change the subject. We’ll hear about that on Maundy Thursday when we read John 13.
Of course, Judas is livid. After all, the extravagance of this gift could be better suited to feed the poor, or to line his pockets after he lifts a coin or two out of their common purse. Now, the theft angle not withstanding, isn’t Judas right? Couldn’t the money have been better used to feed the poor? We talk about mission and evangelism all of the time. We talk about getting funds for school supplies for kids whose families can’t afford them on their own. We talk about collecting for the hungry locally, nationally, and internationally. We do more than just talk, we act. We do something about it. So if it seems like Judas has a point, well, it’s because from our point of view he does.
But Jesus turns the tables with the often quoted eighth verse, “You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.” This has always bothered me. It seems so callous, and that’s not Jesus’ character.
Something that is missing in the translation is that this is a paraphrase from Deuteronomy 15:11, “Since there will never cease to be some in need on the earth, I therefore command you, ‘Open your hand to the poor and needy neighbor in your land.’” Jewish commentaries prioritized acts of compassion, how we open our hand to the poor and needy neighbor, praising the care of the dead above almsgiving.[5] Jesus alludes to this when he says, “Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial.” This isn’t a frivolous use of a costly perfume, Mary is taking care of her poor and needy neighbor as Deuteronomy command. So in a way, Jesus is not being callous toward the plight of the poor, he may be reminding listeners, Judas in particular, that caring for the dead should be emphasized over giving to the poor. Get your priorities straight, dear Judas.
But there is something wrong with this logic. Burial anointing begins with the head, not with the feet. The gospels of Mark and Luke get this detail right when Mary breaks open the jar of nard anointing the head of the Lord.
John makes this a little more complicated as Mary anoints his feet. But there may be two things at play here. The first is that Mary is anointing Jesus in preparation of his death. Certainly Jesus and seemingly Mary know that the hour of Jesus’ death is on the horizon. In anointing him, she acts in love as a faithful disciple of the Lord[6] preparing him for the tomb. Something Judas will fail to do so soon. This is noted in the text, Jesus says it plainly in verse seven. But there is another possible facet to this anointing to explore.
The washing of the feet is not how one is prepared for the tomb. It is a sign of courtesy and hospitality, but in Mary’s hands it becomes more. In washing Jesus’ feet, she anoints him to perform his royal work. As the scent of the perfume filled the house, it wasn’t being filled with the aroma of impending death; it was being filled with the smells of new life, a new life in the anointed Christ.
The house was filled with the aroma of service. The house was filled with the aroma of extravagant giving. This new aroma was even able to cover the smell of Judas’ comment. Yes, Mary has anointed Jesus in preparation of his death, but she has also anointed him in preparation of his life, his work, and his coming passion. Her action fills the house with the aroma of love and devotion, not hypocrisy or mourning.
I have filled this house of worship with an aroma of incense this morning. I have done this to add another element of sensory stimulation to our worship. I have done this to add another medium of lifting our worship. In the words of the Anglo-Saxons, “May our song rise like incense in thy presence.” We need to be like Mary, filling the house with the aroma of life in Christ, not with preparation for death. We need to anoint one another, setting aside one another, preparing one another for the work of the kingdom here on earth. Yes, often we will be called to perform extravagant actions doing menial chores, just like Mary. And like Mary, we are to do this in gracious loving service to the Lord and one another.
May our joyful work and our worship fill this house of God, the houses we dwell, and the world we serve like the nard Mary uses to anoint Jesus and the incense we burn leaving us, as the Apostle Paul phrased it, smelling sweetly of God.
[1] From The Oxford Book of Prayer, edited by Appleton, George. New York: Oxford University Press found in; Archdiocese of Chicago, A Lent Sourcebook, The Forty Days, edited by Baker, J. Robert, et. al. Chicago: Liturgical Training Publications, 1990, page 147.
[2] “Mary” entry #3, Blair, E. P., Entry editor. The Interpreters Dictionary of the Bible. Buttrick, George Arthur, Editor. Nashville: Abingdon Press, 21st Edition, 1962.
[3] http://www.census.gov/cgi-bin/saipe/saipe.cgi, for Carroll County, Arkansas, accessed March 24, 2007.
[4] Ibid, The Interpreters Dictionary of the Bible. “Foot Washing” entry, Shepherd, Jr., M. H., Entry editor.
[5] Mays, James Luther, General Editor, Interpretation, A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching. Sloyan, Gerard, John. Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1988, page 153.
[6] Notes on John 12:7-8, The New Interpreter’s Study Bible New Revised Standard Version with the Apocrypha, Harrelson, Walter H., General Editor. Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2003.
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