Come and See

This sermon was heard at the First Presbyterian Church in Marshall, Texas on Sunday April 24, 2011, Easter Sunday. He is risen. He is risen, indeed.

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Jeremiah 31:1-6

Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24

Acts 10:34:43

John 20:1-18

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 ended last week’s sermon,[1] with these words:

The powder keg is lit and it leads to Pilate and the glory of Rome. The fuse he lights also leads to the Temple, and the scribes and the Pharisees. The fuse is lit; the course of history has begun. Eventually the spark will reach the charge and an explosion the world has not forgotten will blow.

In the mean time, much will happen:

There will be prophecy, and there will be prophecy fulfilled.

There will be scrutiny, and there will be examination.

There will be a supper, and there will be a betrayal.

There will be a trial, and there will be a judgment.

There will be a torturous death.

Surely by now the people would have thought that the powder keg had blown. The people have seen the Lord’s betrayal on Maundy Thursday and his crucifixion on Good Friday. The unthinkable has happened, the Lord God is dead.  But that wasn’t the end of the sermon, and death was not the end of the Lord as we heard in today’s reading.

It’s early on the first day of the week.  The Sabbath is coming to an end, but it’s still dark. Until the sun rises it’s still the Sabbath and Jews don’t leave their homes until the Sabbath ends.

Not Mary Magdalene, she’s gone to the tomb. The Chief Priests wouldn’t be out and about yet, but the Romans would be. If she is found she could be in trouble. For violating the Sabbath certainly, but if she is found at the tomb they would assume she was one of Jesus’ partners in revolution. This the Romans would not take lightly.

When she comes to the tomb she sees that the stone had been removed from the entrance.  Scripture is silent, but perhaps she looked into the open tomb, for just a moment.  If she didn’t look in, she must have had a sinking feeling in her heart.  Either way, she had come to the correct conclusion.  Jesus’ body was not there.

She has come and she has seen and Jesus was gone.

The Lord is not there, how can this be?  Mary sees the open tomb, overwhelmed by grief and maybe by panic she runs to Simon Peter and the beloved disciple to tell them.  The Lord has been taken from the tomb and we do not know where they have laid him. 

Mary’s panic is shared by the two disciples.  They run together, Peter falling behind as they race to the tomb.  The other disciple arrives first, looking in he sees only the linen that had been wrapped around Jesus.  Peter arrives on his heels and we read that he is the first who dares to enter.  Peter too sees the cloths that had been around his body and the wrapping that had covered his head and face folded, set aside by itself.

After the other disciple entered the tomb, they saw and they believed.  They believed that he was gone.  Simon Peter and the beloved disciple; they had entered the tomb of their Lord and Master, and his body was gone.  Scripture is silent, but would I be wrong to think they were devastated?  He is tried, he is crucified, and now he is gone.

They have come and they have seen and Jesus was gone.

Logic says he was taken.  If the authorities thought that they had taken him, if they thought these disciples had taken this rabble rouser’s body to cause more religious unrest, then they would be next on the Pharisees’ and Pilate’s enemies list.

They didn’t understand what had happened.  They didn’t understand the scripture.  So they did what seemed sensible.  They needed to sort out what was happening.  They needed to mourn.  They may have needed to hide.  So they went home. 

Mary remains crying at the tomb.  Her Lord is dead and missing.  The two people she shares her worries with have abandoned her.  She is alone again.  She is lost.  She is distraught.  She cries and she looks into the tomb.  What else can she do?

Suddenly she finds two angels sitting in the tomb. They ask why she is crying.  She repeats her lament, “They have taken my Lord away, and I do not know where they have laid him.” Can you hear her heart breaking?  Flowery speeches are unnecessary. “They have taken my Lord away, and I do not know where they have laid him.” Then, she turns and sees a man she doesn’t recognize standing before her.  Who is this man? she wonders. Did he take the body of the Lord? 

He breaks the momentary silence repeating the angels’ question, “Woman, why are you crying?” adding “Who is it you are looking for?” Scripture tells us Mary supposed he was the gardener. This supposition would have given him the benefit of the doubt; she may have also thought he was a thief or a fool.  

Only a fool wouldn't know what had been going on in Jerusalem over the past week. The Passover was only a part of what was happening now. The Nazarene, Jesus came into Jerusalem triumphantly on the back of a colt. Later, he was tried as an enemy of the state or of the church depending on the accuser. Then he was crucified with two criminals. This was his crypt, and if this man was the gardener either he was oblivious to the events of the last week or he was the one who moved the body.

She answers his question without contempt toward its foolishness, but she is not above suspecting this gardener of taking Jesus. “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have put him and I will get him.” How Mary is going to carry the dead weight of a man is irrelevant. If this gardener knows where the body is, she will retrieve it and return it to its proper resting place.

It’s the least she can do. The Lord delivered Mary from her life in the world to life with him. The gospels tell different stories about Mary and her history, but there is one thing that is certain. Jesus finds Mary and then she becomes useful to his ministry. Carrying him to his final resting place is the least she can do.

Her world is shattered. Being useful in this small way is all she can think to do. It is all she dares to believe she can do. What else is there? 

Jesus then calls her by name. “Mary!” She turns and recognizing him calls out “Rabboni.” It’s amazing; she doesn’t recognize the Lord until he says her name and that makes all the difference in the world.

She has come and she has seen her Lord and her God.

She is flooded with emotion. The warmth must be glorious. Her tears of grief and fear become tears of joy and relief. The Lord reveals himself to her by saying her name. She has found him and the world is turning anew. She rushes to him, she clings to him. Then Jesus tells her this is not yet the time for he has not yet returned to the Father. Jesus tells Mary to tell the brothers, “I am returning to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.”

Mary does as she is told. She comes back to the place where the disciples are staying and she tells them what she has seen and what the Lord has shared.

There’s such a difference a moment makes in our lives. Mary’s world has been turned over three times in the last three days, the twice within the last hour or so. If she is running she is skipping. If she is walking she is walking on sunshine. Life is never going to be the same. Her Lord lives. And she is trusted to take the Good News to the others. “I have seen the Lord,” and life, which had all ready been turned on its ear, is turning again.

She comes and sees; then she says “I have seen the Lord.”

Come and see. It’s a recurring theme in the Easter story. Mary comes and sees the tomb. She then comes back to the disciples and sees them. Mary, Peter, and the beloved disciple come back and see the tomb. Then comes the glorious turn, Jesus comes and sees Mary. Mary finally recognizes him and sees her Lord.

This is the ebb and flow of scripture, we come and we see. We come and we hear. We come and we receive. We come and we receive the visible signs of God’s invisible grace. Today is no exception, today is the most glorious example.

There are so many other things I want to say today, so many things, but that’s not why we came. We came to hear the Easter Story. We came to celebrate Wilda Leigh joining this part of the Body of Christ. We came to celebrate the sacraments: Belle’s baptism and the Lord’s Supper.

We came because Mary came. We came because Peter came. We came because the beloved disciple came. And most of all, we came because Jesus came. This is why we come and this is what we see.

If you remember, there was more to last week’s sermon. After I said “There will be a torturous death.” I followed with these words:

And there will be a glorious resurrection.

Hosanna! The fuse is lit. Let it burn.

And I’ll see you next Sunday for the big explosion.

Today we have come and we have seen the big explosion.

He is risen. He is risen indeed.

---

[1] http://timelovesahero.blogspot.com/2011/04/lighting-fuse.html

Lighting the Fuse

This sermon was heard at the First Presbyterian Church in Marshall, Texas on Sunday April 17, 2011, the 6th Sunday of Lent, Palm Sunday.

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Isaiah 50:4-9a

Psalm 118:1-2, 19-29

Philippians 2:5-11

Matthew 21:1-11

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

Saturday mornings means cartoons, and I hope it always will. People of different ages look at Saturday morning cartoons differently. There are the unnatural motions of the oldest “Popeye” and “Mickey Mouse” cartoons. These are great if for no other reason that they are the root of the tree from which all cartoons followed. Then again, these cartoons were made for the movie theaters, not for the small screen.

The next generation of cartoons, the first made for television was the old “Tom and Jerry” style cartoons. The plot was constantly recycled, cat chases mouse, but the imagination of the situations combined with some of the best Pre-Pixar artwork in cartoons made this generation of work special.

The Saturday mornings of my childhood wouldn’t have been complete without “School-House Rock” or “Fat Albert and the Cosby Kids” which always tried to teach something. These were great, but for me, the best was “The Road Runner.” Yes, it’s “Tom and Jerry” with a coyote and a bird, but there was something more to it for me. The Road Runner was a one-trick pony, speed and more speed; but Wile E. Coyote lived up to his name, he was wily.

The coyote is of course the lonesome loser, he’s never going to get the Road Runner, but he’s never going to give up either. He’s always plotting and conniving a new way to catch his prey. While I read Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem, there is one type of Road Runner scene that resonated with me.

The scene, reinvented in many different ways, is where the coyote lights a fuse on some sort of explosive. It could be a rocket or it could be a stick of dynamite. He lights the fuse and waits behind a rock waiting for the Road Runner to zip past at the exact moment of the explosion.

I always wondered what a stick of dynamite would do to a small bird but my parents would just tell me to go with it. Oh well.

My question never needed an answer of course because the Road Runner would rush past before it could explode; then the coyote would always have to go and take a closer look at his contraption. Sometimes it was immediate, sometimes the coyote would have enough time to strike a pose to dash off, but always the bomb would explode right underneath ol’ Wile E.  Then the look of disgust would be on his face while I laughed.

These scenes aren’t parallel, but as we’ll see; on the triumphant entry into Jerusalem Jesus lit the fuse; and there’s going to be a big, big bang that will change the world.

So how is the fuse lit? It begins as Jesus gets ready to enter Jerusalem. The preparations begin as Jesus commands two of his disciples: “Go to the village ahead of you, and at once you will find a donkey tied there, with her colt by her. Untie them and bring them to me.”

A reminder: Matthew’s gospel was written to the first congregations of Jewish Christians. So to Matthew, it was important for the writer to connect the Hebrew Scriptures to the life of Jesus. This connection was important to the listeners too. This is why Matthew follows these instructions with this commentary, “This took place to fulfill what was spoken through the prophet,” the words of Zechariah 9:9:

“Say to the Daughter of Zion,

‘See, your king comes to you,

gentle and riding on a donkey,

on a colt, the foal of a donkey.’”

Matthew’s version of the triumphant entry is silent about whether or not the disciples had to tell the owner of the beasts that the Lord needed them, but since we are told they did as they were instructed we can assume they did if it was necessary.

It is spectacular the way the crowd is assembled. The knowing and the curious surround the Messiah.  They come from all around to be a part of the scene.  People are climbing trees and cutting down branches.  Others are taking off their cloaks and spreading them on the road.  This part of the city was in turmoil, the simple entry of this one man stirred the pot of Jerusalem.  Everything was being shaken up by Jesus’ entry into the city of David.

This part of Jerusalem is shaken by the entry of he who comes fulfilling the word of the prophet. The end of our reading reminds us that while these crowds knew who Jesus was, most of the city didn’t. Considering the number of visitors who were in Jerusalem for the Passover, the height of the religious tourism season, this shouldn’t be unexpected. While most of the 40,000 locals probably knew who Jesus was, many of the 200,000 visitors may never have heard of him until this moment.[1]

But then again, this Messianic entry may not have been completely unexpected; Jerusalem has a history of parading kings.

The people of Jerusalem had long expected the coming of the Messiah, the Christ, the anointed. They expected the coming of the one who would save Israel from its oppression.  Egyptian, Babylonian, and now Roman, the people anxiously waited for the one who would save them from their enemies.

They waited for the new David who would ride triumphantly, a warrior king who would come on a great war horse to save the people from their oppressors.  They were waiting for someone like Moses who took them from Egypt to the Promised Land.  They were waiting for a political leader to restore the nation to its proper place in the land.

The history of the Jews is steeped with parades of Kings entering Jerusalem.  In Ancient Israel before David was king, the Philistines had captured the presence of God, the Ark of the Covenant.  After David became king, after the Ark was regained by the Israelites, the king danced at the front of the procession leading its return to Jerusalem.  A parade of 30,000 men accompanied the Ark on its return to Jerusalem.

After a false start, the parade started and once it did, it stopped every six steps so that David could make an offering of an ox and fatted calf.  David led the procession of men and the Ark wearing a linen ephod and dancing with all his might.[2]

While Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem wasn’t as spectacular as David’s, it was a spectacle. The triumphant entry had people hanging from the trees and throwing their clothes everywhere.

Yet Jesus does not come dancing in his like David with the Ark. Jesus doesn’t lead a procession of 30,000 men. Who the people received in Matthew’s gospel was the vision of another ancient leader, one who rode a donkey because they had better footing on the rocks and hills of ancient Israel than a war horse. Today’s procession features the one who rides a colt, a symbol of humility.

Then again, Jesus doesn’t bring the Ark of the Covenant back to Jerusalem. He is the New Covenant coming into Jerusalem.

The Messiah who comes to town was no conquering hero; he was the ancient image of the humble leader. He is the leader who would die for his people, not one who would send millions to die in his stead.

Our reading is different, instead of the Ark of the Covenant that holds the presence of God; Jesus, the true presence of God, comes to Jerusalem.  Fully human and fully divine, God comes to town as the person of Jesus Christ.  In David’s time, God is returning to Jerusalem as the glorious center of the pageant.  In our reading from Matthew, Jesus, the Son of God, the Son of Man, God in flesh on earth, comes to Jerusalem humbly for the Passover.

This is the lighting of the fuse, the fuse that leads to a powder keg.

Two biblical scholars, Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crosson provide another side to this story; the story from the other side of town. They imagine that while Jesus and all the crowds are celebrating his triumphal entry; on the opposite side of town the Roman Governor of Palestine, Pontius Pilate, is entering town himself.[3]

Pilate, like every other political leader, never travels without his entourage, but this time his party is large and well armed. The Passover was traditionally a time of political uprising in Palestine. This year there was talk of a new prophet in the hills north of Jerusalem. A man named Jesus from Nazareth. If he came to town there could be trouble and like any good Roman Governor, Pilate would be ready for trouble.

So Borg and Crosson write that as Jesus comes to town, Pilate comes loaded for bear. Pilate would be ready for the nearly quarter-million residents and visitors and any rabble they carried in their wake. There would be more than enough soldiers, there would be more than enough arms, and Pilate rode at the head on his war steed to show that he meant business.

You’ll never find this story in the bible because it’s based on extra-biblical sources, histories written outside of the church.  It’s not in any church history or anything else I’ve ever read, but as we discussed this during the Thursday bible study, I said it was plausible.

This is when Tom Malcolm added this insight. It was probable that the Roman garrison had some sort of maneuvers daily.

As soon as Tom mentioned this I knew that he was right; and Borg and Crosson were right too. Everyday in Jerusalem and in every other town that held Roman troops, there would be some sort of military procession. Not that this is a Roman thing, this is how conquering armies behave in occupied lands. They’re the boss and they continually show who’s boss, and the parade is one very good way.

So while there would be the daily parade, on this day, right before the Passover, in front of a quarter million Jews, the Romans come to town to show just who’s in charge. They come in armor, they carry state of the art arms, they will even march their provisions along with the rest of the parade to show that they’re in it for the long haul and they mean business. And again, Pilate rode at the head on his war steed.

So there we are. Jesus has lit the fuse as he rides into Jerusalem on the colt and the donkey. The crowds on this side of Jerusalem praise him laying their cloaks and branches before him crying “Hosanna to the Son of David!  Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!  Hosanna in the highest heaven!  This is the prophet Jesus!”

In the meantime, on the other side of town, Pilate and the power of Rome come into Jerusalem in their own parade. They come into town to keep the peace, whether by right or by might, they will keep the peace. It doesn’t matter how many are killed, they will keep the peace. If they have to kill thousands they will keep the peace. If they have to kill just one man, they will keep the peace.

The powder keg is lit and it leads to Pilate and the glory of Rome. The fuse he lights also leads to the Temple, and the scribes and the Pharisees. The fuse is lit; the course of history has begun. Eventually the spark will reach the charge and an explosion the world has not forgotten will blow.

In the mean time, much will happen:

There will be prophecy, and there will be prophecy fulfilled.

There will be scrutiny, and there will be examination.

There will be a supper, and there will be a betrayal.

There will be a trial, and there will be a judgment.

There will be a torturous death, and there will be a glorious resurrection.

All of this will happen as the fuse burns, but those things happen this week, not today. Next Sunday we’ll read about the big, big bang that changes the world. As for today, we hear the cry of the people in the streets. We hear the people cry out “hosanna!” We hear the crowd crying, “Hosanna to the Son of David!  Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!  Hosanna in the highest heaven!  This is the prophet Jesus!”

Hosanna—what a wonderfully glorious call, by the time of Matthew’s gospel it had become a sort of a “holy hurrah.”  But let us remember what Hosanna truly means: “Lord, we beseech you. Lord we beg of you.”[4] Lord, we beseech you, come. Lord, we beg of you, come, come again, and take your rightful place in creation and in our very lives.

Hosanna! The fuse is lit. Let it burn.

And I’ll see you next Sunday for the big explosion.

---

[1] Rollefson, John, “Feasting on the Word, Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary.” David L. Bartlet and Barbara Brown Taylor, Editors. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010, page 154

[2] 2Samuel 6

[3] Ibid. Rollefson, page 153.

[4] New Interpreters Bible, vol VIII, Keck, Leander, Editor. Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1995, page 403.