Palm Sunday/Passion Sunday 2018 - Playing Outside

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I remember growing up outside Chicago.  Oftentimes, in the summer, we’d be playing outside without a care in the world.  When suddenly a new sky roll in.  Black and ominous.  Heavy with the thunderstorm it contained.  Or worse were the times when the sky would lighten, only to turn a sickening shade of yellow. In either case, our fun times were limited. We’d try to eke out a little more fun. But soon enough, we scattered to our homes, either to hunker down for the imminent thunderstorm, or worse, head to the basement for the tornado warning siren that was soon to go off. 

This is what I thought of when pondering today. 

First, we celebrate Palm Sunday, Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem. We process with palms, ushering in our savior, as the people did that back then. We shout Hosannas and wave our palms.  It feels almost like a hero’s welcome parade. After that, we read the Passion Story. So as we’re waving our palms and shouting, we know what’s coming.  Our joy isn’t as high. Our Hosanna’s aren’t quite as heartfelt.  Our joyful ticker tape parade is a little subdued.

But here’s the thing. That day, that triumphal entry wasn’t really like a ticker-tape parade.  It had a somber note, that maybe is more accurately reflected by our subdued Hosannas. First of all, Jesus knew. He’d been telling his disciples where he was headed, and why. He knew.

Second, the people didn’t know. They didn’t have any idea who was coming, or at least they were strongly convinced of the wrong thing coming.  The people wanted Jesus to save them from the Roman occupation. To be the insurrectionist to overthrow their oppressors.  But instead of riding in on a war horse surrounded by his well outfitted soldiers and their show of force, he came in on donkey. A lowly donkey, often used as a sign of peace and conciliation. How upsetting and distressing for a people expecting the majestic war horse!  How can you make peace with these Roman monsters? You are not who we thought you were.  You are not what we need. 

Finally, think about what the people were crying out.  Hosanna!  We’ve come to think this means, “woo hoo” “Welcome”, “Praise”.  It’s almost become the same word as that celebratory “A”  word we exclaim at the dismissal but don’t say during Lent.  But that’s not really what it means, or at least that’s not what it meant then.  Hosanna comes from a few Hebrew words that are used in the Psalms, to mean Save us!  So instead of this being the championship heroes’ welcome parade, it was more like the oppressed people crying out to be saved like the impoverished masses, crying out to their king, “Save us”.  There’s a sense of despair or dire need in crowds crying out, “Save Us”.  And their hero who’s going to save them?  He comes in on a donkey.  Again, Christ was not who they thought he was, and he was not what they thought they needed. 

So for the people, this was not likely the joyous parade. It was more like our subdued, conflicted Hosannas.  

After we celebrated Jesus’ entry, we quickly moved to the Passion narrative.  We relive the story of that horrible week. Every year, I’m struck by the gruesomeness, and how I’m uncomfortable all over again, at a very deep level. I’m struck by the intimacy of the foot washing and last supper, and then by the head-spinning turn of events. The betrayal, abandonment, denial, complicity, trial, torture and state-sanctioned execution. 

Part of what makes this story and this week so hard is because we know who Jesus was; God incarnate. It’s like watching a movie where the audience knows something will happen, but the characters don’t.  We know what’s happening, and we can do nothing to change it.  During this week, we see humanity at its worst.  We see what humanity did to Christ – to God.

It’s not very far between the crowds crying Hosanna, looking for their savior, to the crowds crying “Crucify Him”, condemning the very one they called out for.  Events turn quickly and drastically.  Jesus is denied, abandoned, betrayed, tried, tortured and executed.  And here’s the thing. As Patti has talked about during Lent, at the end of this week, God shows up.  God shows up in Jesus statements of love and forgiveness throughout the week. On Maundy Thursday, we hear him give the new commandment, to love one another. God shows up in love and intimacy and commands us to share that love.  From the cross on Friday, God shows up in our lives, as Jesus forgives. Forgive them Father, for they know not what they do.  God shows up and loves and forgives the very people who denied, abandoned, betrayed, tried, tortured and executed.   And when we finally reach next Sunday, God shows up in a very grand way – the empty tomb. 

If God shows up, loves and forgives the people back then, how could we ever doubt that God shows up, loves and forgives us now? 

Holy Week is hard, yes. But I think of those sweet days playing outside as a child.  The sky would get ominous, we’d scatter and hunker down in the safety of the basement, with our families.  We’d weather the worst. And eventually, we’d come back out. The streets washed clean, the air smelling fresh. It was always so much nicer to play outside after one of these scary storms.

So it is with Holy Week.  We are invited to hunker down, in community to weather the bad.  To do so aware of what’s happening, and in community.  Then, next Sunday, together, we come back out. God shows up in an ultimately and definitively winning way – the empty tomb.  During this week ahead, we share the darkness in community, we see God showing up in the midst of that, and loving and forgiving the very people involved. And after having spent this hard time together, we finally get to come out after the storm passes. To see and revel in all the places we see God’s love and forgiveness.  God shows up.  He’s with us all week. Come, let’s share it together.

Amen.

Set Free - Epiphany 5B February 4, 2018

Jesus heals Simon's Mother in Law, Rembrandt sketch

Today we continue the Epiphany season, and we’re actually winding down. Did you know that in 10 short days, we start Lent? Yikes. So the question is, where does God show up today?  Where do we have an “Epiphany” or a new realization about God, Jesus or our relationship with God?

Today’s reading comes from the Gospel of Mark, which always reminds me of the way a 2nd grader tells a story. And then he went here, and then he healed someone. And then he prayed. And then he went there. I don’t mean to suggest that it’s childish writing. Rather, I think Mark, like a second grader has a very exciting story that he wants to get out with some urgency.

In any case, back to the story.

Jesus and his disciples enter the home of Simon and Andrew. Simon’s mother-in-law is sick in bed with a fever. With our modern medicine and doctors, a fever doesn’t sound too threatening. But then it was. There were no antibiotics, no Advil or Tylenol. A fever was debilitating, and life threatening. This fever kept her in bed. This was not a time or culture of leisure. Staying in bed meant she was very sick.

We are told that when he heard of her fever, he came at once, took her by the hand and lifted her up.

And in Mark’s abrupt language, it says, “Then the fever left her and she began to serve them.”

The story goes on to say that in response to this, the whole town crowded around the door, where he healed many. After a little respite of prayer, Jesus and his entourage continued on to their next stop in their whirlwind trip.

I’m going to focus on the first part of this story - actually three short sentences - the part with Simon’s mother-in-law. It’s full of God showing up.

Upon hearing she was sick, Jesus went immediately. It says they told him about her. Someone or someones petitioned Jesus. They brought her needs to him. And in response, he came.

Once he came,  he reached out, took her by the hand, and lifted her up. Now, lest you think this is like he hoisted her up, heaved her up, or hauled her upright, the lifting up Jesus does is the same language used to describe Jesus’ resurrection. Not only did Jesus heal her, he brought her to new, resurrected life. Restored, renewed. Free. Given how sick she was, the fact that she was actually stuck in bed, it is fair to say she was resurrected.

The Collect today references this, “Set us free, O God  from the bondage of sin and give us liberty of that abundant life”. I’m not suggesting that this woman was freed from sin, but I am saying that Jesus set her free from what was holding her back. Her son-in-law was having people over. Of course she wanted to be up and about. Instead, she was very ill in bed with a fever. Jesus lifts her up, restores her and give her freedom.

This is one of the ways God shows up. God sets us free from what enslaves us, from sin, from guilt, from fear. What are you enslaved by? What holds you in bondage? Are you needing God to show up and set you free from whatever it is?  God can do that. God does do that. We need to ask, and we need to meet him, when he stretches out his hand.

To be clear, I’m not suggesting simply by asking your wishes will be met. Part of the freedom that faith provides is a change in what we’re seeking, what we’re asking. We can always petition God for what we believe we need; for health and happiness of ourselves and loved ones, for a specific outcome of a dilemma we are facing. But here’s the thing. If we have faith that God’s will is the right will, God’s plan is better than ours, part of our freedom comes from letting go of our prescribed outcome and instead seeking peace in the midst of the drama.

I’ll give you a little example from my life. Right now, my youngest daughter is struggling with “adulting”. I’m not quite sure where or how this chapter will end. I don’t know if we’re still in the downward phase, or if we’re climbing out. There are a whole lot of possible scenarios, and I’ve played many of them in my head, repeatedly, and normally at some single digit hour in the middle of the night. After a good amount of petitioning and prayer, I came to realize that I was stuck in the bondage of that fear and anxiety about the unknown, about the yet-to-happen, and maybe-never-will. My prayers haven’t immediately fixed all of those problems. But I’m still feeling freed. The freedom I’ve experienced with this has to do not with a magic fix to the situation, or any certainty about what will happen. Rather, my liberty comes from realizing that today, I absolutely can handle whatever comes my way. It may be really good or really bad, and I’ll figure it out. I always do. The freedom faith gives me is that God’s will be done; I don’t have to solve this; I can’t. Along with not solving this, I’m not responsible for it, so I don’t need to feel like I am. I can’t possibly script or predict or worry my way into any more comfort. Instead, that creates a sort of bondage, worrying about the unknowable and unfixable. But hand me a problem today, and I can fix it. Sure, I’d love it if my prayers would immediately change the situation and I’d end up with a perfectly happy, perfectly adulted child. And if that doesn’t happen, I have faith that God’s will be done. Not easily. Not without doubt. Not without me jumping back in all the time to try to “help”. But the freedom comes from the faith that God has this. It’s a freedom from my own over-processing, over-worrying mind. With Jesus’ outstretched hand, we can be set free from whatever enslaves us.

Some of you may be listening to this, thinking that you’re not enslaved, you don’t feel like you’re in bondage. And if so, that’s great. Just remember when you get there, that God will show up if you need a hand up. It’s almost like a get out of jail free card. Keep it in case you need it.

If you’re with me so far, and see how God can free us, free you, great. If not, don’t worry. This story has more to offer. Back to the mother-in-law. Once she was raised up from the fever, what did she do?  She serves the disciples.

Some people hear this story and feel it’s yet another example of male dominance, women subservience. And while that was definitely a thing, and in some places it still is, I’d urge you to look beyond that, to not dismiss this story because of that.

She serves the disciples. Yes, it means she served, like waited a table. But it’s so much more. The word used for service has a strong tie to discipleship. You see, the word used for her service is “diakonia”, which is the source of the word deacon, and it’s the word used to describe how the angels served Jesus. Her reaction and response to being freed?  To serve. To serve Christ.

I know that feeling, that sense of being so filled with gratitude of being loved by God that the response is to want to serve. This is what differentiates well intentioned social service with Christian Ministry, in my mind. We seek and serve Christ in others because we are overwhelmed by God’s love, mercy, grace, liberty. It’s the least we can do.

I have a story about this. At the Saturday Community Breakfast at St. Mary’s downtown Eugene, there’s a volunteer who’s in her 80’s. She came, with some trepidation, to help make coffee for the 200 guests. But she rolled up her sleeves and made pot after pot after pot of coffee. And she kept coming back. A few weeks in, she asked why the guests had to use the horrid powdered creamer. She explained that she liked half & half, so she thinks they should get half & half too. So she comes with a gallon of half & half, and serves. Holy service. Yes, making coffee. But it’s so much more.

This is like the volunteer at the pantry who came as a favor to a co-worker. Months later, she still comes because she really enjoys it. Holy service.

Serving Christ and serving Christ in others is how this woman responded to her freedom. It’s how I respond.

Some have argued that this unnamed mother-in-law was the first deacon, the first person in Scripture identified as responding to Christ’s redemptive and freeing love and mercy with holy service. This is not a story about a mother-in-law, relegated to serving tea and cookies. This is a story about redemption, healing, freedom, Christ’s love, and ultimately our response of holy service.

As we head into Lent, it’s a great time to think about where you are in this story. Are you the person who needs to be healed and freed? Is there something you need to be freed from?  If so, what is it? Spend time in prayer naming it. Name your bondage or the sin that’s keeping you enslaved. As they say in Al Anon, Let Go and Let God.

Are you like the disciples who told Jesus about someone who needed his mercy and power? Are there others in your world who desperately need Christ’s love and redemption?  Name them. I’d even suggest making your own prayer list, in addition to the one you get weekly at church. Name the people who need you to tell Christ about them, to petition Christ on their behalf. And then spend Lent praying for them.

Or are you in a place where you feel loved, freed, forgive, redeemed?  If so, what’s your response?  What is your holy service that you were put on this earth to conduct?  Mark Twain said that the two most important times of your life are the moment you’re born, and the moment you figure out why. In response to the life and gifts already given, what is your holy service? Your diakonia? It could be emptying the trash, serving cookies, pursuing ordained ministry, serving at the pantry. Think about. Pray about it. Talk to someone about it.

And finally, the story tells us that after Jesus heals many, he heads off very early to be alone with God and pray. If all of this seems overwhelming, or like you don’t know where to start, I’d suggest starting with prayer, with some quality alone time with God. It’s from that rooted, deep connection with God that we find perfect peace and freedom. It’s from that peace and freedom that we are called into Holy Service of Christ and our neighbor.

Amen.