“ The One Hard Thing You Can Do.” Preached at Wollaston Congregational Church On March 25th, 2018 Scripture: Mark 14:1-9 It was the last week. On the first day Jesus rode into Jerusalem on a humble mount, a colt. He acted “the king” like a court jester, poking fun at the Roman governor’s show of military might. The crowd assembled from all the countryside between Galilee and Jerusalem, called out “Hosanna (Save us now!), blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!” Jesus rode all the way to the Jerusalem temple: the seat of political and religious power. On the second day Jesus returned to the temple. He overturned the tables of the money changers and merchants. Caged doves flew free. Temple and Roman coins rolled through the grand court of the Gentiles. Jesus railed against the temple’s collusion with Rome. The common people were being robbed on all fronts. The Romans had seized their land. And they were being taxed by both the temple and the Empire. Jesus could not abide a temple in which worship substituted for justice. The twelve disciples followed along, unnerved. This was only day two. But they could not say that they had not been warned. They had been traveling with Jesus, these past weeks, all the way from Caesarea Philippi in the north, where he first prophesied what was to come. Back at the start of the journey, Peter had proclaimed Jesus as the Messiah. But Jesus had rebuked him saying that the “Son of Man” must undergo great suffering and be rejected the religious authorities and be killed and after three days rise again. Of course, Peter was not willing to accept this outcome. But Jesus, told them all, for the first time, that anyone who wanted to be a follower must deny themselves, take up their cross and follow him. The prophecy was repeated as they passed through Galilee, and again when it was clear that they were going up to Jerusalem. Each time the disciples misunderstood. Each time they changed the subject or they argued among themselves. They just kept denying the prophecy and avoiding the subject. They approached the holy city with the backdrop of the Passover festival. This was a celebration of liberation for the Jewish people from enslavement to a former empire. The disciples must have known that these were dangerous times. They must have known that the Romans were anxious to keep a lid on any uprising, and the temple authorities were nervous. They must have seen the cross casting its shadow across their way. And yet, they refused to face into the great mystery. They refused to do one thing they could do: to help Jesus prepare for his suffering and death. But this is the fourth day, Wednesday. It is two days before the feast of the Passover. On this day, Jesus goes to eat at the house of Simon the leper in Bethany. And here a woman brings a jar of costly nard, an ointment intended for anointing for burial. It must have cost this woman her entire life savings. She plans to do the one hard thing she can do for Jesus, to pour it all out on him. There is no avoidance or denial in her. She knows what will happen to Jesus. And there is nothing she can do about it. But there is one thing she can do, this is a hard thing. And she does it. She anoints him, pouring the nard over his head. He is preparing for his inevitable death. With loving care, she decides to prepare with him, by doing this one thing the twelve disciples are so unready and so unwilling to do. She decides to enter the mystery, and to be with Jesus as he goes to his death. And when the disciples scorn her, Jesus lifts her up. He says that wherever the good news is proclaimed she will be remembered. She is the one who will be remembered, this nameless woman, who did what she could do. Who did the hard thing she could do. It is a hard thing, to face into and acknowledge the suffering of another, especially someone you love. It is a hard thing, to participate in making the decision to stop treatments, so that your loved one may pass from this life on their own terms. It is a hard thing, to be present to someone whose loved one has just died and they can’t quite take it in. Or to sit with a friend, who is in a deep depression, without trying to fix it or cheer them up. Parker Palmer talks of his experience with severe clinical depression, calling it a total eclipse of light and hope. Palmer had a number of friends who tried to help him. Some came with advice: “try to remember all the good you’ve done, and you will surely feel better.” Others over-identified with him, saying “I know exactly how you feel.” Palmer understands these attempts as a part of a syndrome of “avoidance and denial.” But one friend, Bill, stopped by Palmer’s house every day and for half an hour simply massaged his feet. He rarely spoke, but mirrored Palmer’s condition. Sometimes he said things like “I can sense your struggle today.” [1] Like God, Bill didn’t try to fix Palmer but gave him strength by just being with him and suffering with him. This is the kind of love that Jesus received from the woman without a name - a love that does not avoid or deny. In recent weeks High School students throughout the USA have taken a stance against gun violence in schools. This is an issue that most adults would rather avoid or deny. It involves some difficult conversations, between those who believe that guns can be used to protect the innocent, and those who wish to see guns removed from our society. It involves confronting powerful, controlling groups, such as the National Rifle Association, and political representatives who take money from such groups. Many students have been enacting “walk outs” from school in order to express their frustration at the adults who refuse to confront this issue. Some adults have suggested that instead of “walking out” of the classroom, students should “walk up” to lonely students and others. Just “walk up and be nice” they say. Well, it is good practice for all of us, in our daily lives, to include those who are excluded. Many High Schoolers already do this too. But, it’s possible that the “walk up” instead of “walk out” movement could be another attempt to avoid and deny the reality of the situation. If a High Schooler who shoots up his school is suffering from a deep psychological disorder, it won’t be cured by simple friendliness. Why do adults recommend “walking up” instead of “walking out” when students can do both? Why do adults balk at a peaceful student protest? Avoidance and denial might have something to do with it. Walkouts and protests won’t solve everything. But it’s something. It’s one thing students can do. And it’s a hard thing, because it exposes them to the disapproval of many adults. And as we’ve seen in recent weeks, it exposes them to online bullying and contempt. If they are doing the one thing, this hard thing, maybe we who are adults can do something too: Support our students in their confrontation of gun violence in schools and other places. Some members of this congregation joined the “March for Our Lives” procession in Boston yesterday. This was one way of walking with the students in their protest. Some of us could do that. For others who are not so physically resilient, there may be things that you can do. One thing’s for sure, doing the one thing we can, even if it seems small, even if it is hard, is better than doing nothing at all. The nameless woman in Mark’s gospel did what she could. But, I wonder what the story would have been like if the 12 disciples had also done what they could. Perhaps the Last Supper on the Thursday of that week would have been less of a struggle. Maybe, instead of arguing among themselves, the disciples would have passed the bread around for Jesus and helped him to share the cup. Maybe they would have laid hands on his shoulders and prayed and blessed him for the days ahead. Maybe they would have washed, anointed and massaged his feet for the walk to Golgotha. Perhaps they would have sung songs to encourage him along the way. Perhaps later that evening, instead of scattering in the garden of Gethsemane, they would have gone with him to the high priest, asking to be arrested as well. And perhaps there would have been no need to recruit Simon of Cyrene, because they would have carried the cross to Golgotha, singing psalms of lament as they went. Perhaps each one would have hugged and kissed him, before he was put on the cross to die. Ilse Weber was a Jewish poet who lived in Czechoslovakia during the time of the Jewish Holocaust in Europe. Ilse wrote songs and theater pieces for Jewish children, mainly in German. She was confined to the Theresienstadt concentration camp, where she worked as a night nurse in the infirmary, caring for the children. The Jewish prisoners were not allowed medicine, but she did what she could for them. She sang lullabies, like this one she composed: “Wiegala.” Wiegala, wiegala, weier, the wind plays on the lyre. It plays so sweetly in the green reeds. The nightingale sings its song. Wiegala, wiegala, weier, the wind plays on the lyre. Wiegala, wiegala, werne, the moon is a lantern. It stands in the darkened firmament and gazes down on the world. Wiegala, wiegala, werne, the moon is a lantern. Wiegala, weigala, wille, how silent is the world! No sound disturbs the lovely peace. Sleep, my little child, sleep too. Wiegala, wiegala, wille, how silent is the world! [2] When the children, including her own son, Tommy, were transported to Auschwitz, Ilse volunteered to go with them. It is said that as they were taken to the gas chambers, Ilse sang “Wiegala wiegala” to comfort them. She was with them. She did what she could. [1] [1] Parker J. Palmer, “Let Your Life Speak: Listening for the Voice of Vocation”, (San Francisco, Jossey-Bass books, 2000) [2] https://holocaustmusic.weebly.com/ilse-weber.html
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Believe or Belove? Preached at Wollaston Congregational Church On March 11th, 2018 Scripture: John 3:14-21 I was precocious child when it came to church and faith, and so I was confirmed at the age of eleven at my local parish church. Following my confirmation I was committed to rising early on Sunday mornings and going with my dad to pre-breakfast communion. I loved the fact that I could now share this quiet time with him. The liturgy was mostly constant, spoken rather than sung. The Nicene creed, which I learned by heart, was central to the liturgy. I loved the rhythm of the words, and the weekly affirmation of the creed’s claims. Looking back I can see why the creed has been recited and sung like a hymn since the fourth century. Here is what the Nicene creed says about belief in Jesus: “We believe in one Lord, Jesus Christ, the only Son of God, eternally begotten of the Father, … “For us and for our salvation he came down from heaven: by the power of the Holy Spirit he became incarnate from the Virgin Mary, and was made man.” I came to the United Church of Christ as an adult, attracted by the community spirit of the church in our small town. I was convinced to stay by the pastor’s thought provoking and heart-touching sermons. As I learned more about the UCC’s early inclusion of women and LGBTQ people, as well as its commitment to social justice, the attraction grew deeper. But I was perplexed by one thing: there was no creed. I wondered if this was a simple omission by our pastor, or something peculiar to our local church. Then I learned that the UCC does not have a creed, but has what is known as a “Statement of Faith.” The UCC sees that some churches use creeds as “tests of faith.” Instead, they say: “We seek a balance between freedom of conscience and accountability to the apostolic faith. The UCC therefore receives the historic creeds and confessions of our ancestors as testimonies, but not tests of the faith.” Here is what the UCC Statement of Faith has to say about belief in God and Jesus. This is from the doxology format and so it is addressed to God, like a prayer: “We believe in you, O God, Eternal Spirit, God of our Savior Jesus Christ and our God, and to your deeds we testify: …. In Jesus Christ, the man of Nazareth, our crucified and risen Savior, you have come to us and shared our common lot, conquering sin and death and reconciling the world to yourself.” In our gospel passage today, we hear of Nicodemus, a member of the religious leadership, coming to Jesus. He comes to Jesus while it is dark, at night. Nicodemus is deferential, honoring Jesus with the title “teacher.” He has heard Jesus’ teachings. He has observed the signs that show the presence of God in Jesus. But Nicodemus’ mind is not open to what Jesus has to teach him. In spite of the fact that he commands respect as a teacher of Israel, he cannot grasp Jesus’ teaching. His mind seems fixed on concrete facts and boundaries. Just as he has come to Jesus in the night, Nicodemus is still in the dark: he cannot see the light. In the discourse that follows this episode, Jesus makes a statement that contains one of the most frequently quoted - many would say misquoted - verses in North American Christianity, today. It is John 3:16: "For God so loved the world that he gave his only (begotten) Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.” You heard the slightly different translation today: “in this way, God loved the world, that he gave his only Son…” We hear this verse so often, plucked out of context, as though it holds the keys to the kingdom. College football quarterback Tim Tebow painted the biblical reference under his eyes, to be seen during National Championship games. He was successful in attracting attention. During a one game, Google reported that John 3:16 became their top query. Perhaps the player hoped that simply displaying the Bible reference would bring those watching the game to belief in Jesus Christ. And so, with thoughts of creeds and statements of faith, along with this verse, its use and misuses … I wonder, what does it mean “to believe (in Jesus)”? In the book “Christianity After Religion”, Diana Butler Bass writes of the “belief gap” among American Christians today. The “belief gap” plagues our culture and our churches. Some Christians use what they describe as belief in “Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior” as a gate to who is “in” and who is “out.” This “test” of faith is widely understood, in our culture, as applying to all Christians. And it seems, for those who love to quote this verse, it is all that matters. There is no need to follow Jesus’ teachings, or study the gospel any further. “Belief” in Jesus Christ seals the deal. On the other hand, there are those (such as members of the United Church of Christ) who cannot imagine that God would determine who is “in” and who is “out” by doctrinal tests. They cannot imagine that Jesus would say “the Bible says it, so you must believe it.” These people examine Jesus’ teachings and actions in the gospel. They see him lifting up the poor, including those who have been excluded and marginalized by oppressive religion. They see him healing the sick who have been cast aside by society. They hear Jesus’ call to love neighbor and enemy, and understand that is what is needed to follow him. In her writing, Diana Butler Bass explores the history of the word “belief” in Christianity, and how our understanding has changed through the ages. She explains that the Latin word “credo” was used for religious belief, as opposed to the word opinor, or opinion. Credo means “to set my heart upon” or “I give my loyalty to.” You can see that the word creed comes from credo. Butler Bass goes on to say that “In medieval English, the concept of credo was translated as ‘believe,’ derived from the German belieben meaning ‘to prize, treasure or hold dear.’ This word comes from the root Liebe, or love.” And so, “in early English, to ‘believe’ was to ‘belove’ something or someone …” It had “nothing to do with one’s weighing of evidence or intellectual choice.” [1] Diana Butler Bass’s explanation helps us to understand John 3:16 in a deeper way. As she says, “If we think that ‘believe’ means doctrinal truth, then the John 3:16 means ‘everyone who agrees that Jesus is the Son of God won’t perish’” But, learning the origins of the word ‘belief’ leads to a change our interpretation. “It would be more accurate to say that ‘everyone who trusts in Jesus’ or ‘everyone who directs [their] heart towards Jesus’ will not perish.” [2] I have discovered, over the years, that many people are curious and hungry to know the love of God, as expressed in Jesus. They are hungry to belove, to direct their heart toward One who will give meaning to their lives. I regret that sometimes I have tried to offer a “quick fix” for this hunger. Before I left High School, I knew very few people who were atheists, or had never belonged to a church. Most children in my home community had been baptized and given some basic religious education. In fact, religious education was a required part of our schooling. When I first went away to college, I was surprised to meet people who had not been raised into some kind of religion or belief. Some of these students had talked with missionaries on campus and had been attracted to Christianity. But, they wanted to confirm their attraction with someone who appeared to be a regular student, who was versed in the faith. For a couple of them, I fit the bill, and I began to feel quite proud of being the one who “sealed the deal” for their coming to Christ. But I regret that, in those moments of pride, I fell into the trap of claiming to know Jesus. I claimed that my privatized relationship with Jesus was a good reason for them “to believe” as well. But I remained ignorant of much of Jesus’ cultural setting, his Jewishness, and even some of his teachings. Looking back, it would have been better for me to admit my ignorance and offer to study the scriptures, and other writings, with these hungry people. Recently while I was traveling I got into conversation with a young European man. He told me that the religion he had been raised in had not brought him close to God. But, he felt driven to learn more. One day he had simply sat and read the gospel from beginning to end. He had gotten to know Jesus of Nazareth, through his teachings and actions, and through that experience he “believed.” Our conversation was different from the ones I had in college. We could share our different experiences of getting to know Jesus. Imagining how Jesus looks from our different cultural experiences made the conversation all the richer. In view of her exploration of the word “believe” Diana Butler Bass returns to the creeds with a new perspective. She offers a creed written by the Maasai people of East Africa with the help of Catholic Missionaries in the 1960’s. I learned of this creed during my theological studies. I was attracted to it because of its understanding of Jesus from the perspective of the Maasai culture. Here is what the Maasai creed says about Jesus: “We believe that God made good His promise by sending His Son, Jesus Christ, a man in the flesh, a Jew by tribe, born poor in a little village, who left His home and was always on safari doing good, curing people by the power of God, teaching about God and man, showing the meaning of religion is love.” [3] Whether I believe or I belove, I think can testify to this creed. May all God’s people say “Amen.” [1] Diana Butler Bass, “Christianity After Religion: The End of Church and the Birth of a New Spiritual Awakening”, (New York, Harper Collins, 2012), 117 [2] Ibid., 118 [3] Ibid., 134 |
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