Sunday, March 20, 2016

An Overturned Table

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March 20, 2016 - Palm Sunday
Matthew 21:1-17

21 When they had come near Jerusalem and had reached Bethphage, at the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two disciples, saying to them, “Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately you will find a donkey tied, and a colt with her; untie them and bring them to me. If anyone says anything to you, just say this, ‘The Lord needs them.’ And he will send them immediately.” This took place to fulfill what had been spoken through the prophet, saying,
“Tell the daughter of Zion,
Look, your king is coming to you,
    humble, and mounted on a donkey,
        and on a colt, the foal of a donkey.”
The disciples went and did as Jesus had directed them; they brought the donkey and the colt, and put their cloaks on them, and he sat on them. A very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, and others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road. The crowds that went ahead of him and that followed were shouting,
“Hosanna to the Son of David!
    Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!
Hosanna in the highest heaven!”
10 When he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil, asking, “Who is this?”
11 The crowds were saying,
“This is the prophet Jesus from Nazareth in Galilee.”
12 Then Jesus entered the temple and drove out all who were selling and buying in the temple, and he overturned the tables of the money changers and the seats of those who sold doves. 13 He said to them,
“It is written, ‘My house shall be called a house of prayer’;
    but you are making it a den of robbers.”
14 The blind and the lame came to him in the temple, and he cured them. 15 But when the chief priests and the scribes saw the amazing things that he did, and heard the children crying out in the temple,
“Hosanna to the Son of David,”
they became angry 16 and said to him,
“Do you hear what these are saying?”
Jesus said to them, “Yes; have you never read,
‘Out of the mouths of infants and nursing babies
    you have prepared praise for yourself’?”
17 He left them, went out of the city to Bethany, and spent the night there.


Sermon: An Overturned Table

We know the story, or at least we think we do. Here’s how we usually think Jesus’ triumphal entry happened: he borrowed a donkey (or two, depending on the gospel), rode into Jerusalem and was greeted by a parade of palm-waving city folk, shouting “Hosanna!” A week later, those same people in Jerusalem shouted something much worse: “Crucify him.”

You know the story, don’t you?

What if I told you that might not have been what happened?  You see, we only tend to focus on the middle of the story, when in fact the beginning and the end of the passage tell us what that event was all about.

Let’s start with the beginning: not the entry into Jerusalem, before that.  Jesus borrowed a donkey or two from a village.  Bethany and Bethphage are mentioned in the gospels. These were places entirely unlike Jerusalem.  According to very early writings, they were likely places for the sick to go, which is why Lazarus was there.  Bethany especially was for the outcasts, the poor, and the caregivers.  This was, of course, to keep them separate from all the healthy, important folk in Jerusalem, geographically close-by, but socially miles apart. 

It matters that Jesus started that Easter journey with donkeys borrowed from Bethany or Bethphage.  It matters that the first to publicly shout, “Hosanna!,” the first to cry, “Save us!” knew what they needed saving from.  They needed to be saved from illness.  They needed to be saved from poverty.  But mostly they needed to be saved from invisibility, from being forgotten.   And if you think this is the same crowd as those who shouted, “Crucify him!” a week later, think again.  (I had to!)  These were mostly sick, poor, small town folk.  The crowd in Jerusalem at Jesus’ sentencing were certainly not that. 

No, these faithful don’t deserve to be thought of as so changeable and violent.  They shouted hosanna.  What did the city folk in Jerusalem shout?  Well, the text tells us: they didn’t say “Save us!” or “Messiah.”  They asked, “Who is this?”  Now that suspicious question sounds a lot more like the crucify crowd to me.  The best they could do was call him a prophet.

So, that’s how the story we think we know so well most likely began: with a crowd of poor, outcast, sick folks and their tireless (and exhausted) caregivers.  Note how many children there were present, and how vocal they were, and remember that children in that society were the lowest of the low status-wise, barely above that borrowed donkey, or the slave who watered it. 

And what happened next?  Did Jesus take his triumphal moment and enjoy a nice big celebration with his friends?  Did he hold a press conference to tout his awesomeness?  No.  He went straight into that temple, perhaps even still riding the donkey!  And he got to work.

Ann Weems captures it as only she can:
Our church school teacher tried to dilute the story
but I had a picture of Jesus with the whip in his hand.
The whip was snapping…I could almost hear it…
The moneychangers cowered against the whip’s threat;
Tables were overturned.
Some of the men were up and running.
The cows and sheep were scattering.
Doves were scrambling in their cages.
Coins were rolling and flying through the air.
The face of Jesus showed fury!
Cows and sheep and doves sold for sacrifices,
Roman money changed into the Tyrian shekels
required for the annual head tax
that went into the temple treasury.
In other words, it was church business.
But Jesus thought otherwise:
God’s house was being desecrated.
He drove the moneychangers out of the temple.

So Jesus started in a place for the poor and the sick.  And then he went through the privileged crowd of Jerusalem, to the place where the poor and sick should always come first: the temple.  When he saw that there, too, they were being taken advantage of, he lost it. 
“My house shall be called a house of prayer;
but you are making it a den of robbers.” he shouted. 
And in response, those wealthy, religious folk came one step closer to shouting, “Crucify!”

He who, as a child, unrolled the scroll to Isaiah and astounded the religious elite in the temple with his wisdom, found a less enthused audience as he did it again.  The fuller passage from Isaiah chapter 56 is this:

the foreigners who join themselves to the Lord,    
 to minister to him, to love the name of the Lord,
    and to be his servants,
all who keep the sabbath, and do not profane it,
    and hold fast my covenant—
these I will bring to my holy mountain,
    and make them joyful in my house of prayer;
their burnt offerings and their sacrifices
    will be accepted on my altar;
for my house shall be called a house of prayer
    for all peoples.
Thus says the Lord God,
    who gathers the outcasts of Israel,
I will gather others to them
    besides those already gathered.

The Lord, who gathers the outcasts into a house of prayer for all peoples.  Isn’t that why Jesus started in Bethany or Bethphage, the colony of outcasts?  Wasn’t he just trying to put flesh onto the bones of his Isaiah sermons? 

And, ultimately, wasn’t that why he was such a threat to those in power, those who had the influence to stir a crowd into a frenzy until they became violent?

Jesus shows us in this story – as it really happened -- something very significant about what it means to follow him.  Let’s put it into a handy 3-point plan, shall we? (Trinitarian to boot!)

1.   Go to Bethany or Bethphage, where the outcasts are, the people who the rest of society prefers to keep at arm’s length: the homeless, the sick (mentally and physically), the grieving, the foreigner, the children.  Our Bethany might be a street corner.  It might be a hospital waiting room, or the Moore Free Clinic.  It might be a kindergarten classroom with low-income kids struggling to learn a second language, when they barely know the first. Go and find Jesus there.  He’s never left.  He’s never forgotten them.

2.   Once you have gone there, go through the places of power: the main roads, the places valued by society.  Be prepared for people to respond with, “Who are you?”  Don’t adopt the ways of that place and those people, but go with humility, riding on a proverbial donkey as Jesus did.  Don’t be afraid to make a scene and stand out.  (Just remember it’s about Jesus, not you.)

3.   Finally, go to the church, that place where people of our same faith gather.  That place is certainly here on Wednesday nights with choir and chimes, and Sunday mornings.  It’s also in yoga on Mondays, a coffee shop on Thursdays and Sunday afternoons, in living rooms on random Tuesdays and even on the golf course on Saturdays.  Go to where other Christians gather, and pay attention to what’s happening there.  Who’s being worshipped?  Who’s not?  Who’s being served?  Who’s not? Are there idols?  Building?  Money?  The preacher, even?  Turn over those tables (well, be gentle with your preacher, please).  Make God’s house a house of prayer for all peoples.

4.   (Okay, so there’s a fourth step!)  Now, go home.  Notice how things seem different.  Notice who would be comfortable there: is it more like Bethany – a place for the sick and overlooked –
or Jerusalem – a place for the wealthy and powerful? (Note that Jesus chose to leave Jerusalem at the end of our story, and spend the night back in humble Bethany.) Notice whether that home mirrors the faith you profess: do you have more than you need, tables of greed that should be overturned?  Do people speak with love and compassion there, or shout in anger?  Does that place even have its own Bethany within it, where you keep someone you live with at arm’s length?  Do you see Jesus there?  He is there, too, you know.

I’ll leave you with a few more words, what turns into a prayer for us on this Palm Sunday, from Ann Weems, about the fateful day Jesus borrowed a donkey from deserted people and marched it right into the place of power.

“O Jesus, you showed us God
when you showed yourself,
but we didn’t see, we didn’t see.
The word of God walked across our lives,
but we didn’t hear, we didn’t hear.
We didn’t allow your footsteps
to crunch into our souls.
We stuck to business as usual,
even church business,
even on Sunday.
And our tables are up for overturning.
Give us a sign.
Give us a sign.
And we who have the rainbow
and all the stars in the sky ask God for further ID.
As though there were no ten commandments,
as though we were never told
that God will not stand for idolatry.
As though we never heard of being the people of God.
As though we never heard of living in covenant.
There will be no other gods before me.
No other gods.
As though Jesus never said
“You should love the Lord your God
with all your heart, and soul and mind,
and you should love your neighbor as yourself
as yourself
as yourself.”   

Amen.

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