Sunday, March 29, 2015

Rebel with a Cause: A Threatening Hosanna

Katniss Everdeen volunteering as tribute (image source).
March 29, 2015 - Palm Sunday
“Rebel with a Cause: A Threatening Hosanna”

John 12:9-19
When the great crowd of the Jews learned that Jesus was there, they came not only because of Jesus but also to see Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. 10 So the chief priests planned to put Lazarus to death as well, 11 since it was on account of him that many of the Jews were deserting and were believing in Jesus.
12 The next day the great crowd that had come to the festival heard that Jesus was coming to Jerusalem. 13 So they took branches of palm trees and went out to meet him, shouting,
“Hosanna!
Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord—
    the King of Israel!”
14 Jesus found a young donkey and sat on it; as it is written:
15 “Do not be afraid, daughter of Zion.
Look, your king is coming, sitting on a donkey’s colt!”
16 His disciples did not understand these things at first; but when Jesus was glorified, then they remembered that these things had been written of him and had been done to him.

17 So the crowd that had been with him when he called Lazarus out of the tomb and raised him from the dead continued to testify. 18 It was also because they heard that he had performed this sign that the crowd went to meet him. 19 The Pharisees then said to one another, “You see, you can do nothing. Look, the world has gone after him!”


Sermon: “Rebel with a Cause: A Threatening Hosanna”

There is a powerful book and movie series that’s been sweeping through our country with ever-growing popularity.  It’s called The Hunger Games.  Have you heard of it?  I realize it sounds like the lunch rush on Sundays at Valentis, but it’s a very different story than that.  The Hunger Games is partly popular because of its unarguable star: Jennifer Lawrence, whose attitude, intensity and just plain awkwardness has seemed to charm everyone.  But the story itself is captivating and deeply, deeply disturbing.

The Hunger Games is the futuristic dystopia set in the post-apocalyptic nation of Panem.  In this country, the gap between the have’s and the have-not’s is extreme, as all of the wealth is gathered in The Capitol, while workers toil in other districts to furnish such a lavish lifestyle.  There was, at some point, a rebellion against the state, and so every year, The Capitol has what are called The Hunger Games, in which a male and female “tribute” child are taken from each district.  “Games” is a ridiculous name for it; what ensues is a battle to the death between these children, all televised, all in an effort to show the poor districts the cost of their rebellion, and to show everyone the power of The Capitol. 

The main protagonist is Katniss Everdeen, played by Jennifer Lawrence, who comes from district 12, what is meant to be Appalachia (and was filmed in the mountains of NC).  When her younger sister is selected to fight in the Hunger Games, Katniss volunteers herself in her place, and into the Games she goes.  She resists the demand to kill her other competitors as much as possible.  The Capitol continues to make preserving life more and more difficult. 

Finally, she and another tribute, Peeta, emerge as the winners because, instead of killing one another, they are prepared to both die willingly.  It is a horrific story, and shows how the threat of death can often be used to pacify entire peoples.  Again and again, Katniss resists that system, though.  When touring as the “victors” of The Hunger Games (though clearly this is a game no one really wins) she visits the district of a dear friend, a young girl who was killed in the games.  

Instead of sticking to her Capitol-faithful script, she names the reality: this young girl died.  She shouldn’t have.  She will not be forgotten.  The crowd responds to this act of honesty by showing their support for her with a simple symbol – perhaps as symbolic as waving palm branches –, and the Capitol officers swoop in and take control, bringing even more death.  You see, for The Capitol, there is absolutely nothing as threatening as a hero who faces and overcomes death.  The world follows after a hero like that.

This story came to mind as I pondered our Palm Sunday narrative.  They are not named “The Capitol”, but the Pharisees and chief priests behave in the same sort of way.  They’ve heard of a hero among the Jews named Jesus who has been drawing lots of attention and, it makes them nervous.  Especially so when they hear that he raised a man – Lazarus – from the dead.  There is nothing more threatening than a hero who faces and overcomes death.  They planned to put Lazarus to death as well as Jesus because they thought killing was the key to maintaining power – it wasn’t.  We’ll talk more about that next Sunday.

The crowds that filled the streets of Jerusalem – the Capitol of power for political and religious leaders – did so because they had heard this Jesus had defeated death. 

As the Roman army advanced through the city bringing order from the West, this Jesus processed in from the East.  It was Passover, and the city was packed.  The Roman army was a mighty show of authority and control with one clear message: resistance is futile.  Might is king. 

Jesus put on a very different show: riding in on a humble and rather silly donkey, with palm branches instead of weapons, and children instead of armies surrounding him.  And Jesus too, proclaimed one clear message: a new king is in town, and the world will follow after him.

What good was a mighty army when walking among Jesus’ followers was a person he raised from the dead?  Jesus resisted the death-dealing ways of the empire, again and again.  He broke all of their rules – even the very rules of life and death itself.  His resistance did not take the form the Roman army and chief priests might have liked.  It was not a battle of weapons.  He did not fight back against that Westward expanding Roman army in Jerusalem with stones or sticks or hateful speech.  He defeated them with a single word, “Hosanna!”

It means, “Save us, we pray!”  The entirety of that mighty army, the fabric of that whole oppressive society, the structure of that entire legalistic religion, was brought to its knees all because of one word: “Hosanna.”  Save us.

Why is that hosanna so threatening?  I’m glad you asked.  Here’s why:  if that rapidly growing crowd was asking Jesus to save them, it means they weren’t expecting salvation anywhere else. 

They no longer trusted the State to save them from poverty, injustice and powerlessness, because it couldn’t.

They no longer trusted the religious leaders to save them from damnation, isolation and faithlessness, because they couldn’t.

Only Jesus could save that crowd.  And if salvation wasn’t something to be bought and sold with guilt and fear, then the state and the religious elite had nothing whatsoever to do with it.  That is why that one word so threatened the religious and political elite, enough that they would kill whoever it took to silence it. 

Save us.   In the story of The Hunger Games, those who were fortunate enough to live in the Capitol of wealth and power expected that privilege to save them.  They even made a massive sporting event out of the horrifying Hunger Games to pretend it was all necessary to “be saved” from disorder and chaos.  With their fancy parties and avid watching and blind eye to the violence of the system, those residents of The Capitol cried, “Hosanna: Save us” to the very thing that was destroying them.

I wonder who we cry Hosanna to.  Do we also ask salvation of what can never bring it?    Do we cry “save us” to the bottom of a glass of wine, or a robust bank account, or a politician with whom we agree?  Do we cry “save us” to bad habits, or deluding distractions, or the next popular self-help model?  Do we cry “save us” to our own independence, or a close friend, or even our religious practices? 

These things cannot bring us salvation.  The One whom we call Christ can.  It is not enough to proclaim that Jesus brings salvation.  We must also proclaim what does not bring salvation.  Like Katniss Everdeen resisting the empire that used poverty and violence as a tool for subjugation, we must cry out that we do not look to the powerful to save us, even when we count ourselves among the powerful. 

We must let go of our ego and need to be right enough to be different from the chief priests, and admit that institutional religion won’t bring salvation. 

Conservative or liberal political lobbying won’t bring salvation.  
Our deep-thinking minds and spiritually-engaged hearts won’t bring salvation. 

Jesus Christ will bring salvation.  He is the only one we who follow him cry Hosanna to.

But, remember there is a threat in that hosanna.  If Jesus can bring salvation through defeating death once and for all, then nothing is beyond his reach.  That salvation then seeps into all of those other places: into organized religion, into the political realm, into our minds and hearts, into communities plagued by injustice and communities benefitting from it.  That Hosanna threatens it all, not with weapons, and not with hateful speech, but with love that death can’t begin to defeat, or even understand. 

Who are we crying Hosanna to?  
And, just as importantly, who should we stop crying Hosanna to?  Amen. 

Sunday, March 22, 2015

Rebel with a Cause: Jesus as King

Image Source
John 10:22-39
22 At that time the festival of the Dedication took place in Jerusalem. It was winter, 23 and Jesus was walking in the temple, in the portico of Solomon. 24 So the Jews gathered around him and said to him, “How long will you keep us in suspense? If you are the Messiah tell us plainly.” 25 Jesus answered, “I have told you, and you do not believe. The works that I do in my Father’s name testify to me; 26 but you do not believe, because you do not belong to my sheep. 27 My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me. 28 I give them eternal life, and they will never perish. No one will snatch them out of my hand. 29 What my Father has given me is greater than all else, and no one can snatch it out of the Father’s hand. 30 The Father and I are one.”
31 The Jews took up stones again to stone him. 32 Jesus replied, “I have shown you many good works from the Father. For which of these are you going to stone me?” 33 The Jews answered, “It is not for a good work that we are going to stone you, but for blasphemy, because you, though only a human being, are making yourself God.” 34 Jesus answered, “Is it not written in your law, ‘I said, you are gods’? 35 If those to whom the word of God came were called ‘gods’—and the scripture cannot be annulled— 36 can you say that the one whom the Father has sanctified and sent into the world is blaspheming because I said, ‘I am God’s Son’? 37 If I am not doing the works of my Father, then do not believe me. 38 But if I do them, even though you do not believe me, believe the works, so that you may know and understand that the Father is in me and I am in the Father.” 39 Then they tried to arrest him again, but he escaped from their hands.

Sermon: “Rebel with a Cause: Jesus as King”

How do you know the sky is blue?  Do you calculate the exact composition of shades, or ask it to tell you?
No.  You see it.

How do you know a particular food is delicious?  Do you  statistically analyze the responses of those who have eaten it before?
No.  You taste it.

How do you know someone cares for you?  Do you ask them to prepare a thorough essay on the scientific emotional responses happening within them when they’re around you?
Of course not.  You feel it.

So, how did Jesus communicate his identity as Messiah, Christ, King?  He didn’t prepare scroll after scroll detailing his family history in the line of David.  He didn’t walk around with a shiny crown on his head for all to see.  He didn’t demand that people pay him homage or engage in tactical debates to convince officials he was King. 
He lived it.

He healed the sick, whether or not it happened to be a Sabbath day.
He drank water with a Samaritan woman, whether or not it was religiously or culturally acceptable to do so.
He called out the religiously powerful, not caring if it put him at risk.
He ate with outcasts and sinners, he prayed, he fed the hungry, he taught people that throwing stones is never the answer, he raised the dead. 
His entire life proclaimed that he was the Messiah, come to fulfill the law of God.

But that wasn’t enough for the keepers of the rules, those scribes and Pharisees.  They pushed him, time and time again, to don a shiny crown so they could take him out.  (It turns out they put their own crown of thorns on him, in the end.)
They demanded, “How long will you keep us in suspense?”  In the Greek saying, “How long will you make us hold our breath?  If you are the Messiah, tell us plainly.” 

But a Messiah wasn’t what they really wanted, y’all.  They wanted blood.  They wanted to destroy the rebel who had flouted their rules and made them look powerless.  They wanted to finally have enough reasons to silence this Jesus character once and for all.

But Jesus wouldn’t budge.  He replied simply, “I’ve told you, but you don’t believe.   The works I do in my Father’s name have shown you, but you don’t see beyond your rules.”  He explained that he came like a shepherd bringing salvation, calling sheep to him, being one with the Father. 

They responded by picking up stones, showing the extremes we human beings will sometimes go to in trying to prove we are right.  Jesus didn’t run.  He didn’t defend himself.  He simply said, “Why are you doing this?  You’ve seen the good works I’ve done.  You’ve seen people healed, communities reconciled, masses fed.  Which of these justifies a death sentence?” 

Knowing the loud witness of those good works, these scribes and Pharisees accused Jesus, saying, “You are making yourself God.”   He might have said the same thing to them, though they made themselves a much more graceless god.

They were preserving the rules even if those rules trampled the sick and afflicted.
They were protecting the wealthy while demanding more and more sacrifice from the poor.
They were placing themselves as gatekeepers of the covenantal law, deciding who was and was not faithful (but not holding themselves to their own standards).
They were making themselves God…well, a lousy copy of God. 

But Jesus – who IS God – wasn’t going to kill them for it.  He actually offered them yet another chance to accept who he was or, if they couldn’t do that, to at least acknowledge the holiness of his good works.  But they couldn’t.  Too much of their power and reputation was at stake.  This rebel Jesus had to die, and with him the insurrection he stirred up among the people.

If Jesus had only been masquerading as a King, as a Messiah, perhaps killing him would have worked.  It didn’t…we’ll talk more about that closer to Easter. 

You see, the scribes and Pharisees missed something essential because they assumed Jesus’ followers were ignorant.  Those who followed Jesus in his time on earth didn’t name him King because he manipulated them, or because he had the right last name, or because he wore a crown.  They called him Messiah because of what he did.  And what he did was, quite simply, good.

You don’t know the sky is blue by deep analysis of colors.  You see it.
You don’t know a food is delicious by getting everyone’s opinion on it.  You taste it.
You don’t know someone cares for you because they can scientifically describe their emotions.  You feel it.

Christ showed that he was King of the just and grace-filled kingdom of God because he did good works, not to earn that title but simply because that’s what it looked like to live out his true identity. 

How about us?  How do you know someone is a Christian?  Not by demanding deep analysis of their understanding of scripture.  Not by seeing how influential they are in convincing people they are right.  Not by their flaunted piety or rigid rule-following.  You know someone is a Christian because they do the good works Christ did.  Even if it means breaking the rules to fulfill the loving law of God.  It’s that simple.

If the world will ever know we are Christians, it won’t be because of our clever arguments, our perfect consensus on every issue, our expensive marketing techniques or our showy spirituality.  It won’t even be because of how efficiently we Presbys can run a meeting or how plentiful our potlucks are.

They will only know we are Christians if we do the good works Christ did.  And, to be honest, friends, we could spend several lifetimes just doing that, and never finish.  So, why would we waste our time doing anything else?    

Amen.

Sunday, March 15, 2015

Rebel With a Cause: Unmasking Hypocrisy

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March 15, 2015 - 4th Sunday in Lent
Matthew 23:1-14
Then Jesus said to the crowds and to his disciples, 2‘The scribes and the Pharisees sit on Moses’ seat; 3therefore, do whatever they teach you and follow it; but do not do as they do, for they do not practice what they teach. 4They tie up heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on the shoulders of others; but they themselves are unwilling to lift a finger to move them. 5They do all their deeds to be seen by others; for they make their phylacteries broad and their fringes long. 6They love to have the place of honor at banquets and the best seats in the synagogues, 7and to be greeted with respect in the market-places, and to have people call them rabbi. 8But you are not to be called rabbi, for you have one teacher, and you are all students. 9And call no one your father on earth, for you have one Father—the one in heaven. 10Nor are you to be called instructors, for you have one instructor, the Messiah. 11The greatest among you will be your servant. 12All who exalt themselves will be humbled, and all who humble themselves will be exalted.  ‘But woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you lock people out of the kingdom of heaven. For you do not go in yourselves, and when others are going in, you stop them.

Matthew 18:15-17
15 “If another member of the church sins against you, go and point out the fault when the two of you are alone. If the member listens to you, you have regained that one. 16 But if you are not listened to, take one or two others along with you, so that every word may be confirmed by the evidence of two or three witnesses. 17 If the member refuses to listen to them, tell it to the church; and if the offender refuses to listen even to the church, let such a one be to you as a Gentile and a tax collector.

Sermon: 

Following a sermon on Christian hospitality, a family thought they had better do something to make an impact.  So, they invited their neighbors to dinner the following Friday night. 
       
      

When it came to the meal, the parents were keen to show their neighbors their Christian faith and devotion.  So the mother asked little 5-year-old Johnny to say grace.  Little Johnny was a bit shy.  "I don't know what to say," he muttered.  There was an awkward pause, followed by a reassuring smile from the boy's mother.  "Well, darling," she said, "just say what Daddy said at breakfast this morning." 
  
     
      
Obediently, the boy repeated, "Oh God, we've got those awful people coming to dinner tonight."

We Christians don’t always make the best Christ-followers.  Perhaps Gandhi said it best: “I like your Christ; I do not like your Christians.  Your Christians are so unlike your Christ.”

We read our holy book about loving our enemies and praying for those who persecute us, and then hold onto past grudges for dear life (or death, really).

We say that God loves everyone, but as soon as we meet someone, we try to categorize them into whatever box makes us most comfortable, to decide how close or distant we’ll be from them.

We believe that God is the source of our blessings, but then we hoard our resources, trying to win the never-ending race of security and status.  A good example of this is Christian megachurch pastor Creflo Dollar, who is asking for donations of $65 million to buy a Gulfstream G650 state-of-the-art luxury jet.  After technical trouble with his current jet (I hate when that happens!) he, “Knew it was time to begin to believe God for a new airplane…We need your help to continue reaching a lost and dying world for the Lord Jesus Christ.”  Think of how many lost and dying children could be fed or educated for that amount of money?  Would that not be a better witness to the Lord Jesus Christ than a luxury airplane?

There’s a word for all of this, and though it doesn’t have 4 letters, it’s a very dirty word indeed:  hypocrite.  It makes your skin crawl a little, that word, doesn’t it?  It’s a word thrown at the church time and time again as priests are given abusive power, as churches become exclusive clubs of homogeneity, as church financial scandals are played out on a public scale, as people use their Christian faith just to get votes for an election. 

Hypocrite.  It wasn’t any more comfortable a word in Jesus’ time.  And yet, he used that dirty word, again and again, when speaking to the scribes and Pharisees. 

These were the religious elite, who told everyone else how to follow the law perfectly.  Jesus called them out.  As you might imagine, they did not appreciate it.

The scribes and the Pharisees sit on Moses’ seat,” he said, acknowledging the authority due their office.  “Therefore, do whatever they teach you and follow it.”  They were probably nodding along at this point, glad this rag-tag fellow and his group of friends were deferring to their greater wisdom and authority.  But that rebel Jesus didn’t stop there.

“Therefore, do whatever they teach you and follow it, but…”   Uh, oh.  But.  This is one of those cases when that little word is about to contradict what was just said.  You know, like when someone starts a sentence with, “I don’t mean to be rude but…”, and you know you’re about to be insulted.

Jesus continued, “but do not do as they do, for they do not practice what they teach.  They tie up heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on the shoulders of others; but they themselves are unwilling to lift a finger to move them.  They do all their deeds to be seen by others.”

Then Jesus got really fired up.  He said that the greatest in their society were the servants, in a time when servants were seen as sub-human, inferior, unclean.  He placed servants above all of the religious elite and then, just in case they didn’t realize they were being called out, he finished by calling these leaders hypocrites. 

Not once, not twice, not three times.  In this chapter of Matthew, Jesus called the scribes and Pharisees hypocrites six times, throwing in “brood of vipers,” “snakes” and “whitewashed tombs” for good measure as well.

Jesus didn’t just insult these religious elite in indirect, passive-aggressive ways.  He openly called them names for all to hear!  And the name they did have, rabbi, he took away from them, claiming that he was the only real Teacher in the bunch.  Hypocrites, he named them instead.  That Greek word is spot-on:  it literally means “under-judging,” and was used to describe theater actors who wore a mask all the time, when that wasn’t who they really were.

Jesus ripped off their masks, and they did not thank him for it.  Ultimately, they murdered him for it.  But here comes the uncomfortable truth: we are they.

We still demand much of others in terms of understanding and compassion but are unwilling to lift a finger ourselves.  We still do good deeds in order to earn the approval of God and others.  We still like to sit in the places of honor and best seats in the house, no matter how many are enslaved by menial jobs to provide for our comfort and security. 

We still say one thing and do another.  We who follow this Jesus are still prone to hypocrisy.  And when we allow that hypocrisy to have full reign in our lives, or our communities, or our society, Jesus has no place there.  Jesus is pushed away, denied more than three times, and deemed irrelevant. 

But, here’s the good news: Jesus went to the cross for those scribes and Pharisees who sent him there, just as much as he went to the cross for the servants, the least and the outcasts.  He went to the cross for all of us, to transform the hypocritical conflict within us and within our world.  He took all of those masks of lies with him to that cross, destroying them not with might or argument, but with perfect, self-giving love. 

He knew that hypocrisy was part of the human condition of sin, and perhaps that’s why he gave new guidelines for how to deal with human conflict, something of an addendum to those earlier laws from Deuteronomy that perhaps gave priests a little too much power.

“If another church member sins against you,” he said, fully knowing it was a matter of “when” and not “if.”  “If that happens, you don’t need a sinless priest to intervene, because there’s no such thing.  You need to call them out on Twitter or Facebook!”  Wait, no, that’s not what he said! 

He said, “Be honest with that person, tell them how you feel, give them the respect of a face-to-face difficult conversation, and see if that changes things.  If it doesn’t, take just a couple of trusted people in your community, and try again.  If that doesn’t work, get the whole faith community working on reconciliation and repentance.  And, if that doesn’t work, let them go.”

Take off the masks of judging and be real, as uncomfortable as that is, and seek honesty.  Don’t ignore conflict, face it head-on, and pursue reconciliation, knowing that sometimes reconciliation looks like ending that relationship when it is too toxic. 

Yes, I think Jesus knew that we Christians would always be prone to hypocrisy, and honestly, probably more prone than most, because the standards he holds us to are so very opposite of the standards our society holds us to.  We will hurt others.  We will proclaim Jesus is Lord with our words but not with our lives.  We will close the doors to heaven because, like those scribes and Pharisees, there is just too much ego and power and money riding on admitting we might not have all the answers.  We will seek status before servanthood. 

But Jesus will not abandon us.  He might, through a trusted friend, a random stranger, in prayer or Bible study, or in a news story, call us out on our hypocrisy.  He calls us to not just say we are Christian but to show it, in ways that are as radically counter-cultural as he was.  He might upset the status quo of our lives, holding up a mirror in this season of Lent and reminding us that we have been wearing masks for far too long, so long that we’ve come to believe that’s our true face. 

But then, when he has shown us who we truly are, and who we need to become, Jesus will remind us that he went to the cross for the hypocrites, too.  And perhaps we’ll finally realize these masks of perfection and piety we’ve tried so hard to wear, never did fit very well. 

Perhaps we’ll let go of the need to prove ourselves, and instead put others first, no matter how difficult that is.  Because, you see, when we put another person’s needs, opinions, concerns and troubles before our own, we immediately become the opposite of a hypocrite.  We become servants.  And Jesus had only good things to say about them.  Amen.