After this, when Jesus knew that all was now finished, he said (in order to fulfil the scripture), ‘I am thirsty.’ A jar full of sour wine was standing there. So they put a sponge full of the wine on a branch of hyssop and held it to his mouth. When Jesus had received the wine, he said, ‘It is finished.’ Then he bowed his head and gave up his spirit. John 19.28-30, NRSV
Good Friday – talk about a dark day in the history of the world! Crucified on Golgotha Hill, everyone thought Jesus was a complete failure. Just another flash in the pan of wanna-be’s. His disciples, who had given up everything to follow him three years before, felt cheated, bitter, and depressed and they had abandoned him. Of course, things didn’t end there. Friday’s failure had turned to glory on Sunday morning. The Cross emerged triumphant from the empty tomb. What seemed like sure-fire failure Friday afternoon became on Sunday the greatest historical event the world has ever known: the Lord is risen, indeed! There is no stone strong enough, no tomb deep enough, no death deadly enough, to keep Christ and his believers entombed.
It’s something we seem to easily forget though. I don’t think a single one of us has escaped a sense of devastation or failure at some point in our lives and sadly, many folks never get over it. They dwell on problems instead of solutions, death instead of life, tragedy instead of triumph. The power of the resurrection has escaped them and they never experience the life intended by their creator.
“Failure” is a horribly debilitating word. If it were left up to me, I’d re-jigger things in our world that would make church something no one wanted to do without, take all of the calories out of pecan pie and put them in turnips, and erase “failure” from every language under the sun.
If you find yourself feeling demoralized by your apparent failures, take heart in knowing that there is no such thing in God’s sight if you have done your best to turn to him. I’m not invoking a Pelagianistic heresy – that if you do your best, God will do the rest. That denies everything Paul said about grace alone. When you turn to God with your heart and soul, your imperfect life will reflect the light of success that Good Friday’s failure created, even though you may trip and fall along the way.
Don’t let Friday failures cripple you. The incarnation and finally, the resurrection, affirmed that we humans are good, warts and all. A sincere faith in the triumph of the cross on a dark Friday afternoon may be the very thing which sets you off in a thrilling fresh direction tomorrow. God didn’t come in the flesh to love the loveable or to improve the improvable. God has a greater plan for you that you can ever imagine. He came to raise the dead. “For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope.” Jeremiah 29.11, NRSV
The greatest among you will be your servant.All who exalt themselves will be humbled, and all who humble themselves will be exalted. Matthew 23.11-12, NRSV
Servanthood – such a beautiful ideal, such a lofty goal. Jesus exemplified the life of servanthood and he calls us to live as he did. I pretty sure that all of us agree with the principle of servanthood, but when push comes to shove and it gets down to the specifics, I wonder how many of us take it seriously? Servanthood – oh that’s for the other guy; that’s for the minister, as if there is some kind of exception for the laity. “You mean, with my position, my salary, my skill set, I have to be a servant to that so-and-so? You mean I have to wait upon others when it should be me that is waited on? I have to pick up after everybody?” Yup! That’s what Jesus means and he means what he says, whether we like it or not. Make no mistake – Jesus is not talking about high-flying, glamorous, prestigious jobs. He’s talking about jobs that are as menial as they come – sometimes messy, sometimes thankless – like washing a shopping cart person’s filthy feet.
Pride is usually what gets in the way – it’s the huge barrier reef with the great white sharks of our egos swimming around it, ready at all times to devour any notion of seeing others as worthy at our expense. Our human nature makes us think we are just a little bit above everyone else and we should be treated that way. Instead of seeing what we can do for others, we expect others to do things for us. Scripture has lots of warnings that pride is deceptive and dangerous: for those who exult themselves will be humbled by God himself. I love the way Obadiah says it: “Your proud heart has deceived you, you that live in the clefts of the rock, whose dwelling is in the heights. You say in your heart, ‘Who will bring me down to the ground?’ Though you soar aloft like the eagle, though your nest is set among the stars, from there I will bring you down, says the Lord.” (Obadiah, 3,4, NRSV) If you think you are high above everyone else, invincible, set among the stars and too good for servanthood – watch out!
Greatness in the Kingdom comes in serving, so check your ego and choose to live as a humble servant of Jesus Christ. As Jesus said, he came not to be served, but to serve. He means it! And if it’s good enough for God, it’s certainly more than good enough for you.
You have brains in your head// You have feet in your shoes// You can steer yourself any direction you choose// You’re on your own// And you know what you know// And YOU are the one who’ll decide where to go//…So…be your name Buxbaum or Bixby or Bray // or Mordecai Ali Van Allen O’Shea,// you’re off to Great Places // Today is your day// Your mountain is waiting // So…get on your way!
Oh The Places You Will Go, Dr. Seuss
I recently posted a piece regarding identity within the context of Matthew 28, aka, the Great Commision(See Route 66, March 7, 2021). I want to take another run at something else that I found arresting while dwelling in the words found there.
There is a question that begins in nursery school and morphs into one that chases us almost all of our lives – “What do you do?” What do you do is one of the first questions that comes up at any cocktail or dinner party when we meet new folks. What do you do? Not who are you, but what do you do? I’m a lawyer, I’m a teacher, I’m dog catcher, a plumber, baker and a candle stick maker. We claim our identity and that of others in a job description as if that is the sum total of who we are.
Easter is upon us and as we prepare to bask in its glow, the question of what do we do and how that doing reflects who we are, become very critical questions for us to reconsider in the light of the risen Christ who has called us to follow him. The call of Christ is a call to be something more profound than what our secular career choices claim to say about our identity and it is a challenge to the subconscious desires that drive us to believe that the good life is found in another genuflection at the altar of the shopping mall.
We are called to an identity that is something far greater and enduring. Jesus calls us to be the people of God.
Now the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain where Jesus told them to go. When they saw him, they worshipped him, but some doubted. Jesus came near and spoke to them, “I’ve received all authority in heaven and on earth. Therefore, go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to obey everything that I’ve commanded you. Look, I myself will be with you every day until the end of this present age.”
Perhaps you noticed this: Now the eleven disciples went to Galilee…
Eleven is an odd number- odd literally and symbolically. It is not the perfect twelve, nor is it the typical biblical reference of seven for completion and or wholeness. It’s incomplete; it’s less than perfect; it’s flawed or blemished in some fashion. As my late father might say, there is a hitch in its giddy up. Eleven disciples – Matthew has Jesus sending an imperfect bunch into the world to do his perfect work.
But it gets more interesting…
They worshipped him, but some doubted – Some doubted. We really don’t know if they all doubted or just a few, the Greek is ambiguous at best. But how can they worship Christ if they have doubts? And how could any of these eleven, having just seen the risen Jesus, doubted at all? I find the notion that the disciples who worship and yet doubted as evangelical and deeply profound from a theological and spiritual level.
Just as Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil, so we Christians live in a war between the spirit of worship and the spirit of doubt: the spirit of worship as God’s people and the spirit of the world’s people, Amazon Prime. Jesus doesn’t correct, exorcise or otherwise attack this doubt, choosing instead, to quietly ignore it as if it is normal. By his great commission, Jesus is teaching that the disciples will win their war on doubt by following his command. Albert Schweitzer once said – “Follow him and you will know Him.” Doubt is part of our human imperfections this side of the resurrection and Matthew’s good news is that doubt and worship can, and do, coexist. Doubting worshippers are Jesus’ material in mission – Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven – blessed are those who worship the risen Lord and who still struggle with their doubt.
And it is these imperfect people – you and I – that Christ promises to always be with. The great commission – the great commission to be – to be disciples of Jesus, united to him in the waters of baptism by the power of the Spirit, making us the very people of God.
“You have feet in your shoes for the direction you choose.” So, whether you chose to be a teacher, a custodian, a butcher, a baker, or candle stick maker, do whatever it is that you chose to do as the person of God that you are. Bring the light, love and truth of Christ to everyone that you meet, in everything you say, and in everything that you are. Go and be.
Mirror, mirror, where's the crystal palace?
But I only can see myself
Skating around the truth who I am.
If you ever plan to motor west // Travel my way, take the highway that is best // Get your kicks on route sixty-six // It winds from Chicago to LA // More than two thousand miles all the way. // Get your kicks on route sixty-six // Now you go through saint looey // Joplin, Missouri // and Oklahoma City is mighty pretty // You see Amarillo // Gallup, New Mexico // Flagstaff, Arizona // Don’t forget Winona // Kingman, Barstow, San Bernardino. // Won’t you get hip to this timely tip…
Route 66, Booby Troup, 1946
Recently, as I marked another trip around the sun, my wife, somewhat sardonically, noted that I had transitioned from being the speed limit to that of a US Highway – Route 66. Funny, lady my Beth.
In this case, I could find some solace in knowing that this is, and has been, a highway memorialized in song by Bobby Troup in 1946 and covered by some of our greatest artists for many decades. Great song…But that and a dollar will get me a plain bagel in the morning.
It did get me thinking about routes, roadways, roads and all of the iterations of meaning they can take. In particular, a route can be a means of access – the route to the bagel store. As a transitive verb, route can mean a diversion in a specified direction. Or it can convey a ‘way’ or ‘course,’ as in the road to peace – or the road to life.
Where have I heard that before?
“Don’t be troubled. Trust in God. Trust also in me. My Father’s house has room to spare. If that weren’t the case, would I have told you that I’m going to prepare a place for you? When I go to prepare a place for you, I will return and take you to be with me so that where I am you will be too. You know the way to the place I’m going.” Thomas asked, “Lord, we don’t know where you are going. How can we know the way?” Jesus answered, “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.
Jesus is the route we follow to reach the Father and he has invited us to be the routes to him.
In Matthew 28 we read: Jesus came near and spoke to them, “I’ve received all authority in heaven and on earth. Therefore, go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to obey everything that I’ve commanded you. Look, I myself will be with you every day until the end of this present age.”
This is the great commission and it begins with an astonishing claim:
All authority has been given to me, so go out there, baptize and disciple.
Jesus has been given universal authority and the disciples have now been given universal marching orders to bring all nations to the school of Jesus. Can you hear him? I keep getting the picture of the platoon leader exhorting the troops to get up, move out. It’s time to disciple; it’s time to baptize; it’s time to teach. But this is much more than an order to get moving. The great commission is an invitation to be disciples of Jesus, united to him in the waters of baptism by the power of the Spirit, and part of the God’s great work of renewal. The great commission is about becoming the gathered people of God so we can do these things for the life of the world.
Baptize
It’s Christian evangelism. The thunderclap shattering the grave on Easter morning was not simply an announcement that your ticket to heaven was getting punched. It was not about a flight from the decaying world so you can flit around on fluffy clouds having a private party somewhere far away. No. It was the dawn of new creation, the renewal of all things. In baptism, we are joined with Jesus by the power of the Spirit and through our baptism, God has extended an invitation to us to have the cosmic renewal that was begun in Jesus, happen in our lives. We also are to extend that invitation.
Disciple
Most importantly, being part of Team Jesus is the means by which cosmic renewal happens through our lives as well. It happens when our character, our very ethic, is clothed in the values of the kingdom, when our way of being is an effortless and automatic extension of sincere love of other that brings justice to the disenfranchised, healing for the sick, and comfort for those who mourn. That’s being a disciple and the pathway for the discipleship of others. So get out out there and invite someone to travel with you as their route to the only road that matters.
I want to know did you get the feelin’ // Did you get it down in your soul // I want to know did you get the feelin’ // Oh did ye get healed //I begin to realize // Magic in my life // See it manifest in oh, so many ways // Every day is gettin’ better and better // I want to be daily walking close // It gets stronger when you get the feelin’ // When you get it down in your soul // And it makes you feel good // And it makes you feel whole // When the spirit moves you // And it fills you through and through // Every morning and at the break of day // Did ye get healed?
Van Morrison, Did Ye Get Healed, 1987
We are rapidly closing in on Ash Wednesday and the beginning of Lent. This is the season when Christians take the time for introspection – a time to slow down and take a good, long, hard look at ourselves to see where we are, and importantly, where we are not, in our walk with Christ. Sometimes, what we find can be downright scary, perhaps so much that we ignore at best or deny at worst, just how far astray we have become: that there are more instances of “not” than “are.”
I can’t speak for you, but I can speak for myself when I see that I need healing. I have my share of demons that rage and rant, keeping me on the wrong path. How do I rid myself of these evils? In the following passage from the Gospel of Mark, Jesus shows us how.
Jesus and his followers went into Capernaum. Immediately on the Sabbath Jesus entered the synagogue and started teaching. The people were amazed by his teaching, for he was teaching them with authority, not like the legal experts. Suddenly, there in the synagogue, a person with an evil spirit screamed, “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are. You are the holy one from God.”“Silence!” Jesus said, speaking harshly to the demon. “Come out of him!” The unclean spirit shook him and screamed, then it came out.Everyone was shaken and questioned among themselves, “What’s this? A new teaching with authority! He even commands unclean spirits and they obey him!”Right away the news about him spread throughout the entire region of Galilee. (Mark 1.21-28, CEB)
Consider how the sick man went about.
He sought to be taught. The man had an “evil spirit” – demon possession, epilepsy, alcoholism, drug addiction, some form of nervous disorder – we don’t know for sure. Whatever the nature of his illness was, he knew things were not right and he wasn’t shy about it. He had made the effort to reach for somebody to teach him, guide him, to heal him; and he went to the right place, the right house and met Jesus.
He fought with a new thought. He was willing to struggle. Healing is never easy and changing is even less so, even when we know it’s the necessary thing to do. We tend to fight against new ideas and new ways of being. An old friend called this the IRS system – no not that IRS – but Intimidation, Rebellion, and Screams. Sometimes, when we get closer to a life changing breakthrough, the reactions can be all the more passionate. The demoniac found the courage to struggle and wrestle with Jesus’ words in spite of his hostility, anger and turmoil.
He caught what Christ had. After he sought, and after he fought, the demoniac caught what Jesus had to offer: healing. He did not know how and he did not ask. He accepted. Everyone else may have been shocked: “What is this?” Not the healed man: he was just grateful to be well.
If you are hurting today, Jesus came for you. “Healthy people don’t need a doctor, but sick people do. I didn’t come to call righteous people but sinners to change their hearts and lives” (Luke 5.31-32, CEB). God wants you to be healthy and whole in body, mind and spirit. As you journey through Lent, take up those demons and turn to Christ. The psalmist said it this way: “But look here: God is my helper; my Lord sustains my life” (Psalm 54.4, CEB). Trust Jesus to heal you, to help you and to change your life. It might be a bit messy, it might get a bit loud, but the peace is well worth the noise and the trip. Get the feelin’!
“Imagine no possessions// I wonder if you can// No need for greed or hunger// A brotherhood of man// Imagine all the people sharing all the world, you// You may say I’m a dreamer// But I’m not the only one// I hope someday you’ll join us// And the world will be as one.”
Imagine, John Lennon
Cover art: Baptism of the Eunuch, Pieter Lastman, 1623
Then an angel of the Lord spoke to Philip saying: “Rise up and go along south on the way going down from Jerusalem to Gaza.” This is a desert. 27 And rising up he went. And behold a man, an Ethiopian eunuch, a power of [the] Candace, queen of the Ethiopians, in charge of all her treasure. He had come to Jerusalem to worship 28 and he was returning; sitting in his chariot, he was reading the prophet Isaiah.29Then the Spirit said to Philip, “Go up and join this chariot” 30 Philip ran up and heard him reading the prophet Isaiah. He asked, “Do you understand what you are reading?” 31And he said, “How can I, unless someone guides me?” And he invited Philip to come up and sit with him.’ 32 Now the passage of the scripture which he was reading was this: “As a sheep led to the slaughter or a lamb before its shearer is dumb, so he opens not his mouth: 33 In his humiliation justice was denied him. Who can describe his generation? For his life is taken up from the earth.” 34 And the eunuch said to Philip, “About whom, pray, does the prophet say this, about himself or about someone else?”35 Then Philip opened his mouth, and beginning with this scripture he told him the good news of Jesus.36 And as they went along the road they came to some water, and the eunuch said, “See, here is water! What is to prevent my being baptized?” 38 And he commanded the chariot to stop, and they both went down into the water, Philip and the eunuch, and he baptized him. 39 And when they came up out of the water, the Spirit of the Lord caught up Philip; and the eunuch saw him no more, and went on his way rejoicing. 40 But Philip was found at Azotus, and passing on he preached the gospel to all the towns till he came to Caesarea. (Acts 8.26-40, translation is by the author)
Philip and the Ethiopian eunuch is one of my favorites from the book of the Acts of the Apostles. It is a rich story of a biblical character that embodies the multifaceted differences of race, class, gender, religion and sexuality: differences that are the source of a great deal of discomfort, division and debate 2,000 years after Luke wrote about them.
I believe it was Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. who noted that Sunday morning is the most segregated hour in America. We are Easter people, yet we have given in to the seductions all around us to create a reduced community customized to our preferences, retreating into the gated community of sectarianism: a society of bigotry, discrimination, and hatred arising from attaching importance to perceived differences between ourselves in race, religion, economic status, and politics and so on.
Looking through the lens of strife and tension created by an insidious and ignorant insistence on sectarianism, it strikes me that as Christians, we have not done a very good job of living into the community of Christ that we proclaim we are baptized into. John tells us that Word was made flesh – the Greek word is ‘sarx’ – human flesh, no mention of color or race – human, like you and I. There is no distinction. There is no longer Jew or Greek; no distinctions based upon race, color or creed. There is one new humanity.
Yet we seem as far as the east is from the west from truly embodying what Luke is showing us here. Why should any of us care about a eunuch from 2,000 years ago? Why should we people of God care about divisions based on race, gender, sexual orientation and class in our church and society? Why do I care- and I do care very deeply. Because God has told us that He cares. The crucifixion shows just how much.
Our pericope is a reminder to us today that we are to live in community. But how to define that community is the challenge in front of us. Our Ethiopian is a very different man. He is black, of questionable theology and an ambiguous gender and sexual orientation. He is, however an earnest seeker who reaches out and is graciously included into the actions of God. Philip’s courage to heed the Holy Spirit is something that our church needs as the debate surrounding homosexual marriage, insidious racism and the inclusion of the LBGT community rages on.
The parallels are all too obvious as Luke has shown in Philip’s challenge to the guardians of right religion in Jerusalem. When we give a banquet, Christ tells us to invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind: the types of people that the Pharisees considered “unclean” and under God’s curse; the types of people we Pharisee’s of today call gay, lesbian, transgender, bisexual, Black, Hispanic, Hindu, Asian and whatever other judgment a label can make. Empowered by the Spirit, the gospel message draws us in to send us out with the good news for all nations. As with the entire book of Acts, the purpose of this story is about carrying the gospel to all nations, carrying the gospel to the ends of the earth and Luke leaves no doubt as to who is directing Philip and his evangelism. My question for the church, for all of us that claim the label Christian, are we following what the Spirit showed us so long ago? Who are we inviting to the banquet? We are being challenged in this story to rethink many parameters, to rethink what community means, to rethink what the ends of the earth may look like. I suggest that Luke gave us a pretty good idea in Philip and the Eunuch. Sadly, we still have a long way to go.
I begin to realize // Magic in my life //See it manifest in oh, so many ways // Every day is gettin’ better and better // I want to be daily walking close
It gets stronger when you get the feelin’ // When you get it down in your soul // And it makes you feel good // And it makes you feel whole
When the spirit moves you // And it fills you through and through // Every morning and at the break of day // Oh, did ye get healed?
“Did Ye Get Healed” Van Morrison, 1987
Many have called the 16th chapter of John, the ‘Spirit Sermon’ – it has the most emphatic, concentrated teaching of all four gospels about the work of the Holy Spirit thru the church for the world. This chapter and the two that preceded it, contain a beautiful sermon delivered by Christ after the celebration of the Last Supper and on the very threshold of his suffering and departure from the disciples. In this last evening before his death, Jesus tries to show the disciples, two elements of reality that are difficult to hold together: he is going away, yet he will not leave them alone.
I’m not entirely certain, but I believe it was Karl Barth who once said something about the Trinity along the lines of before there was time, there was already love and relationships. And when time is no more, there will still be love and relationships. Relationships are vital. They are the antidote to isolation and despair. Relationships our source of comfort and guidance when the going gets so tough that it is difficult to keep going.
And so it is for the intrepid disciples, that group from the F Troop of 1st century Palestine: they are now getting it straight from Jesus about his immanent departure and the going is going to get tough. They are upset and confused. In the preceding chapters, Jesus had alerted his band of merry men that he would be with them only a little longer and now they have lots of questions. Where are you going? How can we follow you if we don’t have a map and why does it have to be a secret? Lots of changes loom on the horizon for the disciples and they are confused, and very likely, a bit frightened. Jesus promises that they will not be left alone through it all. He will send the Advocate.
From verse 7: Nevertheless, I tell you the truth: it is to your advantage that I go away, for if I do not go away, the Advocate will not come to you; but if I go, I will send him to you.
Jesus’ departure, like anyone’s departure, means less of the departed’s presence – simple enough – but here’s the surprise – the departure of Jesus also means a very surprising more – the departed’s presence in another form. It is a going that becomes a coming.
The advocate – ho paraklētos – the Greek literally means the “one called alongside” to help in tough situations like, court appearances to give true , helpful and encouraging testimony and support. Luther’s German translation is “der troster” – the truster, the encourager, the one who encourages trust, who will take what is Jesus’ and declare it to us – all that the Father has is Jesus’ and the truster will take what is Jesus’ and declare it to you – to us – the people of God, the ekklēsia, the church.
An advocate – the truster – the paraclete – the Holy spirit has the special mission to bring Jesus, who is the truth in person, to us. The Spirit will show the church what the world gets wrong in its three key assumptions: what the world is wrong about wrong, about what is right and about who has won. The Spirit will guide the church by the full truth into a full relevance with the fullness of Christ at its core.
The Spirit will teach what the world is most wrong about wrong – about sin – “because they do not believe in me” (verse 9). We all have some good ideas about what is wrong in the world and the evil realities that come with those wrongs. I bet we could come up with quite a long list: war, hunger, racism, gun violence and our list would not be wrong as these things are very wrong indeed. But Jesus is saying that list doesn’t go deep enough, far enough and strangely, it is not singular enough.
Jesus says that the church’s teaching, preaching and living through the Spirit’s led inspiration, will show that the root wrong in the world is the failure to believe in Christ – “they do not believe in me”- Jesus. If the world does not believe that Jesus is the great God’s personal visitor to earth, is indeed the greatest of all wrongs. The sum total of all evil in the world flows out from this one basic evil. The Spirit’s first and introductory teaching to we the people of God, the church, in our confrontation with the world – a world that is very much inside each one of us in the church – is that sin, that which is most wrong is the rejection of Jesus. Our pluralist society sees believing in Jesus as a matter of your personal taste that has no bearing on my personal taste. It holds this view rather than the fundamental issue that relationship to Jesus is a sin or righteousness, life or death matter of truth. The Paraklete, the Advocate, the Spirit will move us, the church, to live, preach, and teach Jesus in this urgent evangelical way, to bring the world, both inside and outside the church, to its senses and we to our center: Jesus.
So what is really right? From verse 10 – it is “about righteousness, because I am going to the Father and you will see me no longer…”
I know that we can come up with a wonderful list of all sorts of things that are right and true: justice, beauty, love, children, grandchildren, friends, a beautiful sunrise. Yet John’s gospel is showing us that the Spirit will challenge us once again, to show us that we miss the point of Jesus’ career being the most right thing to ever happen in human history. Going to the Father is shorthand for Jesus declaring that I came to die and rise this weekend; to obediently experience the Father’s mission for me in the world. It is a mission that leads to death on the cross and resurrection in atonement for the sins of the world: a mission that conquers death and meaningless. This a mission that is the most important, helpful and right deed that has ever been done.
Significantly though, it is the Church’s living by faith, not by sight that completes the picture. You will see me no longer – You believe Thomas because you have seen me:but blessed are those who have not seen me and still believe (20.29).
So the most profound wrong in the world is not believing in Jesus and the most profoundly right thing that has ever happened is Jesus career and the Church’s continuing faith in Jesus and his mission – despite his present invisibility – a faith made possible through the work of the Holy Spirit.
And who wins? It is about “judgment, because the ruler of this world has been condemned.” Too often in life, it looks like Satan, the forces of evil, are the winners. The good things happen to bad people and bad things happen to good people deal. From the cross through the holocaust to terrorism, racism, corruption and sleaze, it is the ruler of the world that seems to win the good-evil contests. Jesus tells us here that no, the ruler of the world has already lost and it will be the Holy spirit that will encourage the Church, to live, to preach, and teach, that the victory has been won and that the Lord has risen and reigns in spite of all appearances to the contrary. God wins – and that’s where we come in.
Jesus tells the disciples ahead of time so that they may believe and John’s gospel was written so that we may believe. Wanting to trust the Lord is a form of trusting him, wanting to love others is the seed of loving others. Jesus both gives us this wanting and then takes up this wanting into himself and, by the Spirit, transforms our wanting, into real doing, whether we think or believe, that we are doing enough. It is a peacefulness that expresses trust. There is no need for fear and anxiety when we take up the cross to follow the Lamb as he goes forward to confront the ruler of the world. Led by the Spirit, we follow the way that Jesus goes, which is the way he is, and receive the promise of abiding with us, now and forever. As the events of the immediate and distant future unfold, we Easter people, the people who follow Jesus, are able to trust that the One who loved us enough to send the Son who sends the Spirit, who still loves us and still seeks to dwell with us.
What if God was one of us? // Just a slob like one of us // Just a stranger on the bus // Tryin’ to make his way home? // If God had a face what would it look like? // And would you want to see if, seeing meant // That you would have to believe in things like heaven // And in Jesus and the saints, and all the prophets?
“What if God was One of Us,” written by Eric Bazilian, 1995, recorded by Joan Osborne.
We live in a world that is in constant search for love and wholeness in the things that are not; a fruitless search whose result is despair, isolation – an isolation now intensified by Covid-19. The silent darkness that has enshrouded many of our lives may seem overwhelming, the storms and trials all-consuming. I have heard many in recent days question, lament really, at their inability to find Jesus in their lives: a lament that makes the darkness all the darker. Given the tribal warfare of our time, it is quite plausible that we wouldn’t recognize Jesus if we stepped over him, let alone recognize him when we do pass on to glory.
Yes, yes, you say, we know that Jesus reveals himself in the Word and in creation, but if we listen a bit more closely, we find that Jesus is telling us to look elsewhere for his presence: “Then the king will reply to them, ‘I assure you that when you have done it for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you have done it for me.’ (Matt. 25.40).
When we learn to look for Christ in other people, we learn to recognize him and when we learn to recognize him, we find the light for our dark moments.
Look for Jesus in the poor that populate our food pantry lines. Look for Jesus in the lonesome and embittered that need a kind word. Look for Jesus in those who have lost jobs in businesses that Covid has destroyed and desperately plea for help. Look for Jesus in those that need medicines we don’t have to cure the disease we do not yet understand. Look for Jesus in the sick and dying as they pray for healing and comfort. Look for Jesus in the homeless, the lost and the addicted that need new direction. Look for Jesus in the essential workers that are not paid like ones that are essential. Look for Jesus in those that provide food for the pantries. Look for Jesus in the grocery store clerk. Look for Jesus in the first repsonders and frontline workers that risk their own lives for others. Look for Jesus in those that give you the kind word. Look for Jesus in those who seek to comfort you and give you new direction. Look for Jesus in school teachers that instill knowledge in our children. Look for Jesus in the one who simply listens, giving space for the pain and lament in your life. Look for Jesus – he is in that person in the mirror.
Jesus is everywhere: in his Word, in creation, in other people and in you as well. When the gloom descends upon you, when the chaos of life in the age of Covid overwhelms you, when you think you are simply done, remember Jesus words to his frightened disciples that thought they were about to drown: “Just then he spoke to them, “Be encouraged! It’s me. Don’t be afraid.” (Mark 6.50). Jesus, in good times and the bad, is always present. When you learn to see him, you will find the light that the darkness will not and cannot ever overcome.
Don’t fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name; you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; when through the rivers, they won’t sweep over you.When you walk through the fire, you won’t be scorched and flame won’t burn you. I am the Lord your God, the holy one of Israel, your savior.
Short people got no reason to live// They got little hands// And little eyes// And they walk around// Tellin’ great big lies// They got little noses// And tiny little teeth// They wear platform shoes// On their nasty little feet// Well, I don’t want no short people// Don’t want no short people// Don’t want no short people ‘Round here…
From the song “Short People” by Randy Newman, 1977
Short people – short on tolerance; short on humility; short in sight; short on love of neighbor. Bigotry, racism, hateful ignorance. Randy Newman’s ironic poke at racism and bigotry reminded me of another person persecuted for difference. I want to peek inside a story from Luke 19, verses 1-10 that most probably first heard about in a Sunday school song:
Zacchaeus was a wee, little man // And a wee, little man was he.// He climbed up in a sycamore tree // For the Lord he wanted to see.
Jesus is on the road at Jericho, a wealthy city in the foothills leading to Jerusalem – it is the last leg of his journey to the temple, when he encounters Zacchaeus, the lead tax collector, a man universally despised, short in stature, which may very well be referring to his communal status as well as his height. Poor guy – he’s the one in the room everyone hates and he knows it. He has to run along the parade route behind the crowds in front of him – crowds that tighten their positions to keep him out. And there is little Zacchaeus, jumping up and down, trying to get a glimpse of Jesus, when he comes to the sycamore tree: a tree with low branches that made climbing easy and a tree loaded with large leaves that would hinder his presence from being detected by the crowd. A wealthy, grown man, clambering up a tree. What made him throw embarrassment, shame, and ridicule aside, not caring what people thought and what they might possibly see of his more private affairs?
He simply wanted to get a look at Jesus. After all, Jesus was a man that welcomed people like Zacchaeus. Jesus even has one of the guys from the Brotherhood of Tax Collectors local 106 in Galilee as one of his disciples. He must be an okay guy.
But Jesus spots him instead and tells him to come down.
The marginalized, the people on the wrong side of the crowds, the ones pushed off to the shoulder of the road, the ones blocked from participating in the community, the ones forced to climb a tree, are the ones who see most clearly. The blind beggar at the end of Luke 18 sees without eyes and Zacchaeus sees with his heart. And yet, the insiders, the disciples, the good white, evangelicals lining the roads telling others to go away, are the real blind ones. They don’t want those short people hanging around. The light of salvation is standing right in front of them and all they can see are their earthly expectations; all they can see is their own self-worth; all they can see are those who think and act like they do; all that they can see are their self-serving restrictions on who is in and who is out; all they see is a riddle; all they see is that they want to remain blind. It’s more comfortable and they grumble at anything that challenges them otherwise. Fake news.
The irony in all of this is that this is our story as well. This passage is not just some far removed happenstance on a dusty road in Palestine 2,000 years ago. It’s a story we continue to enact in varying degrees today, day after day. Zacchaeus was stereotyped and stigmatized by the blindness of the crowds much the same way we do grumbling about all of them: the opposite political party, immigrants, Muslims and their burquas, Jews and their yarmulkes, Hindus and their bindis, atheists, straight, the ‘nones’, the gay couple that just moved into the neighborhood, the transgender boy that wants to join the scouts and those Asian, black, and Hispanic people that seem to be everywhere and now the neighborhood just isn’t the same. We whisper about the couple getting divorced, the family dealing with an addicted member. We condemn the poor as lazy and self-seeking in their charity or the felon who must check a box for the rest of his or her life, condemning far too many to underemployment and marginality. Worse yet, we proclaim prisons as houses of correction where there is no effort to do so, insuring the condemnation of many to an endless cycle of poverty and prison. After all, I’m not like you: I must deserve it.
We stereotype and stigmatize all day long. The disciples did it when they failed to understand the plain language of Jesus, remaining in their stereotyped expectations of messianic deliverance, not bothering to lift the veils from their eyes to truly see what scripture and Jesus had been saying all along. And when we revel in our attitudes of exclusion and self-righteousness, we, like the disciples, miss the message of Jesus and the cross. The kingdoms of our making, the kingdoms of racial division, white privilege, political tribalism, violence, materialistic greed are antithetical to the kingdom of God, but we continue to build them because we are just too willingly blind to accept the hard truth of Christ and the cross.
Jesus emphatically states: “Zacchaeus, today salvation has come to your house, and I am coming over for dinner.” This is the nub of the scandal of Zacchaeus’s story: Jesus was coming over for dinner. It’s at the heart of the problem the crowds are having as they grumble – he eats with sinners and tax collectors! Dinner parties in the Greco-Roman era were the society balls and political fund raising dinners of their time. It was the place to see and be seen, to affirm at the very least, to promote at its best, or to diminish at its worst, the social standing of anyone. To be invited to a dinner party means you are part of the ‘in’ crowd, you are part of the family.
Yet, here’s the beautiful thing. You don’t go looking for Jesus, Jesus comes looking for you. And that’s the good news for you and I, the blind and the lost. The good news is that today salvation has come to all of us because the Human One has come to seek us out. Jesus says to all who believe in him, that today, he is coming into our houses, coming to we who are what we stereotype and stigmatize, we who are “them” – he is coming to have dinner with us. Jesus call us to the table – all of us – the sinner and tax collectors, the blind and the broken, to affirm our place as children of the living God, spared certain destruction by the unmerited gift of the cross, to sit as one family gathered around the gifts of God for the people of God.
Late in his song, Newman sings: Short People are just the same as you and I. All men are brothers until the day they die.Imago dei – we are all made in the image of God. Go into the world today and every day with unyielding gratitude and the overflowing joy of a people found with sight restored – one family – not white, black, brown yellow, red, not Republican or Democrat, straight, gay or in-between, – one blessed family that has room for all: a family invited to the greatest dinner party of all time. Thanks be to God – Amen.
Guess there are times when we all need to share a little pain // And ironin’ out the rough spotIs the hardest part when memories remain // And it’s times like these when we all need to hear the radio // ‘Cause from the lips of some old singer // We can share the troubles we already know// Turn ’em on, turn ’em on // Turn on those sad songs // When all hope is gone (ah…) // Why don’t you tune in and turn them on? // They reach into your room, oh // Just feel their gentle touch // when all hope is gone // Sad songs say so much
“Sad Songs” Elton John and Bernie Taupin, 1984
But….all hope is not gone. I want to talk about something that I believe is overlooked, misunderstood, and sorely needed, perhaps no more so than in the age of Covid-19. We are hurting; one in three people are reporting anxiety issues; many are angry and all of us uncertain. As one person reported, it’s like being on an endless car ride with a drunk at the wheel.
I want to talk about lament.
Lament. It’s more than just venting. Lament is prayer, a passionate expression of grief or sorrow and it is something too many of us, the church included, find difficult to do. We have this silly notion that we cannot bring such expressions of anger, the desire for sweet revenge, and despair into our conversations with God: that we must somehow rid ourselves of such imperfections before God will be interested in hearing from us. Or that worship must always be upbeat, nothing but praise and joy- no ‘Debby downers’ allowed. And oh, then there is the unspoken true American religion of optimism and denial. Big boys don’t cry, so suck it up buttercup and get along with life. In the futile idealism that doesn’t match up with reality, we flat out refuse to acknowledge the darkness and evil realities of life in a way that honestly demonstrates our dependency on the Lord until we are wearied beyond belief. We cannot honestly face our anger and grief: we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us (1 John 1.8).
Lament is healthy and it is one of the most theologically sound practices you can undertake to express the pain, sorrow and grief caused by the suffering in your life. Lament allows you to hallow your anguish in prayer, both communally and privately. Lament is our divine invitation to talk to and with God, about our pain. We are blessed to have a God that weeps with us and in God’s own tears, works to heal and restore us – think Lazarus. Lament has an important purpose and that is trust. We know that our sovereign God has the power to deliver: the tomb is empty.
And here’s the beautiful thing. We have been handed a road map for lament from God for exactly that purpose: the Bible. The Bible is filled with these songs of sorrow: the book of Lamentations weeps over the destruction of Jerusalem; Job reminds us that there are more pains and unanswered questions in heaven and earth than we can grasp; Jesus lamented in the final hours of his life. And then we have the Psalms, likely the single best prayer guide ever printed.
Formulated as human speech, the psalms are God’s words put directly into our mouths to give back to God.
The Hebrew title for the Psalter is Tehillîm – the Book of Praises, seemingly a contradiction as lament makes up the bulk of the book. That is a point worth pondering and praying on. Lament calls for opening yourself up to God with honest speech and when you do, you begin to break the logjam, allowing your tears to drench your bed and make way for the joy and praise that comes from experiencing God’s healing presence.
Lament: it is protest, it is petition, and it is praise. It is gift.
Protest. Turn to God. How long will you forget me, Lord? Forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long will I be left to my own wits, agony filling my heart? Daily? How long will my enemy keep defeating me? (Psalm 13.1-2). Humbly and honestly, identify the pain, the anger, the questions, and frustrations welling up inside.
Petition. Knock and state your case. Wallowing in sorrow leads to despair or denial. To seek God’s help with your pain is an act of hope and faith in God’s promises. Look at me! Answer me, Lord my God! Restore sight to my eyes! Otherwise, I’ll sleep the sleep of death, and my enemy will say, “I won!” My foes will rejoice over my downfall (Psalm 13.3-4).
Praise: The heart of the act of trust that lament is and where all roads lead: But I have trusted in your faithful love. My heart will rejoice in your salvation.Yes, I will sing to the Lord because he has been good to me (Psalm 13.5-6). This is language that renews our faithful commitment to trust in God as we journey through a broken world.
Many folks have found themselves and their circumstances in these prayers, myself included. What I discovered was that I found myself through them: an understanding of who I am, what I need and most importantly, I discovered the language to say it all to God. One of my favorite Irish poets caught this well:
Whenever God shines his light on me // Opens up my eyes so I can see // When I look up in the darkest night // And I know everything’s going to be alright // In deep confusion, in great despair// When I reach out for him he is there // When I am lonely as I can be // And I know that God shines his light on me. “Whenever God Shines His Light,” Van Morrison, 1989.
The lament psalms – more than a third of the psalter – they are praise in a minor key – the sad songs that say so much.
Note: There are many more than the following, but I offer a few suggestions to get started: Psalm 6, 11, 12, 13, 22, 23, 39, 40, 44, 46, 54, 62, 73, 88, 102, 109, 121, 137, 143.
A Prodigal's Periodical 