Risking Rejection: Doing What We Can Preached on Facebook Live Video On March 22, 20 Scripture: Mark 14:3-9 This week we come to the fourth day of Holy Week in our series “Entering the Passion of Jesus.” On the first day we saw Jesus ride into Jerusalem on a donkey. We saw him overturn vendors’ tables in the temple on the second day. And we saw him challenging religious leaders in the temple on the third. The disciples have been seriously unsettled these past three days. Their world has been turned upside down by these provocative actions in Jerusalem. They cannot help noticing that Jesus is drawing attention to himself. Both the Romans and the Temple authorities are monitoring his actions. He is walking a dangerous path. The cross looms in his future. This is not the way they want to go. They are relieved on the fourth day when they finally get an opportunity to relax and enjoy themselves. They go to the home of Simon the leper in Bethany, for a lavish dinner party. Today we read about this party in the gospel of Mark. Mark’s gospel is not so much a story of wonders and miracles. It is more of a story of failure. It’s about the failure of the disciples to the one thing Jesus wants them to do. Jesus wants the disciples to follow him on “the way.” The Way is a literal road, and also a way of being. The road to Jerusalem, began months ago, in the north, just outside the Roman city of Caesarea Philippi. Here Jesus began teaching the disciples that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, be rejected by the elders, the priests and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again. He warned them “if any want to become [his] followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow [him].” And we might wonder, does Jesus really expect that all the disciples will hang on crosses beside him? Does he really expect them to follow him to the death? Jesus gives two more warnings on the way to Jerusalem. Each prediction gives specifics of what will happen. Jesus is very clear, this is not the road to honor and glory, to victory and triumph. This is the road to humility and suffering. Even so, the disciples possess that amazing human quality of denial. They are all along for the party, oblivious of Jesus’ intent in entering Jerusalem during the holiday of Passover. And so today, the disciples and the friends of Jesus are gathered at a table in Bethany. This is not a simple soup supper eaten at the kitchen table. They are reclining, Roman style. Delicious food is served, the wine is flowing. The men are privileged to eat together with Jesus. They are riveted to him and his teaching, when a lone woman enters and breaks the mood. They don’t know where she came from. They didn’t see her coming. The noisy dinner conversation stops abruptly. As an uninvited guest she has broken protocol, but that isn’t all. She is carrying an elegant alabaster jar. As she opens it and a rich perfume fill the room, it becomes clear … this is a jar of costly nard. And, then, most astonishing of all, she goes up to Jesus, leans gently over his place and pours all of it – all 300 denarii of it – over his head. She massages the oil into his hair and scalp. The dinner guests are aghast! The jar of nard was worth a year’s wages. It could have been sold, and the money could have been given to the poor. But Jesus is not aghast, he defends this unnamed woman, saying "Let her alone; why do you trouble her? She has performed a good service for me.” He reminds them that the poor will always exist. It will always be their mission to care for them. But for today, he says “She has done what she could; she has anointed my body beforehand for its burial. Truly I tell you, wherever the good news is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in remembrance of her." Friends, these last few days we may have felt a bit like the disciples in those first days in Jerusalem before the dinner party. Our worlds have been turned upside down, we are deeply unsettled. We have received instructions to remain at home, to cease physical gathering and contact with our friends. Our support systems have been taken from under us. All at a time when we are anxious, stressed and in need of support. We may wish we could make it all go away, get together and have a good old fashioned potluck supper in our social hall! We may well be going through some of the stages of grief … denial, anger, bargaining and depression. Here at the church, we have been hearing from our various building users. We are particularly concerned for the recovery groups because their work is a literal lifeline to one another. We were glad to hear that they have been able to use internet tools, like Zoom, for virtual gatherings. We are also concerned for our un-housed and poor neighbors, and for the already stressed organizations who provide services for them. A small local team of congregants was able to put together 75 bagged lunches for Father Bill’s Place on Thursday. We hope we will be able to continue to help in that way. We are also concerned for our members – and our neighbors – who are elderly, who live alone, and are unable to take advantage of virtual gatherings. Some do not have the necessary equipment, or they cannot cope with technology. It is important that we all reach out with phone calls, to our fellow church members and neighbors. When the news of the coronavirus pandemic first emerged, my husband was on it right away. But, I have to admit I was reluctant to acknowledge the seriousness. I was saddened that the infection would claim many lives in China and other parts of Asia. I never thought that the virus would sweep around the globe and wreak the same devastation in Europe and the United States. Over the last week or so, I have been trying to accept the reality of the situation and learning what it means to “social distance” and stay at home. I’m fortunate, I have my husband and daughters at home with me. I still worry, though, especially for my parents overseas and our son, in a different state. When will we next see them again? Will they be OK in the meantime? What does all of this mean for our lives? There are many different reactions and responses to this new reality. There are beautiful videos from Italy, in which apartment residents go out onto their balconies and make music together. And then there is the mom, dad and little girl who live across the street from us. Usually they are out at work and school all day. Now we see them all come outside for playtime after lunch: sidewalk chalk or splashing in the puddles. Some people are panicked, they have already anxiously bought up all the toilet paper. There are profiteers, who bought hand sanitizer and medical face masks early and are now trying to price gouge. And there are the overworked and exhausted: nurses, doctors, healthcare providers, first responders … grocery story employees to mention a few. And there are devastated hourly paid employees, who don’t know when their next check will come. Did you hear the interview with Chef Ming Tsai, of Blue Dragon restaurant as he broke down and cried over the workers he had to let go? He considers each of them to be a member of his family. [1] There is sadness and joy, there is panic and calm, there is greed, and there is anxiety. There are many other feelings and responses besides. It’s likely that there were as many responses among the disciple community to Jesus’ disturbing behavior in Jerusalem. Jesus praised the woman who busted into the dinner party at Bethany and poured nard over his head. He said that the story of what she had done would be told in remembrance of her. Jesus’ response gives a clue to what he meant by telling the disciples to take up their cross and follow him. Jesus is not expecting all the disciples to be literally crucified with him. But at the same time, he wants them to remain with him. He wants them to accompany him, not only physically, but spiritually and emotionally. He wants them to be on the same page, in the same place as him. The guests who gathered for the dinner party that night have not reached the point of acceptance about what was to come. They are in denial. When the woman performs the action that confirms their deepest fears, they become angry. They don’t want to hear this talk of anointing for burial.They make excuses that the perfume could have been sold for the poor. All while they are enjoying a lavish dinner. Jesus sets them straight: there are times for joy, times for mourning, and times for preparation for burial. They are always to care for the poor, but for today they are to face into what is to come. They are to open their hearts and do what they can to care for him, just like the woman with the nard. Friends, in these days ahead, things will probably get harder. We will have all sorts of emotional responses, including denial, anger, sadness and grief. But we do not have to do this alone. Together we can move our mindset to acceptance. We can get on the same page with one another, emotionally and spiritually. We can pray for one another, talk together on the phone, run errands for one another at a distance. We’re feeling scared and we’re feeling upset, our whole world has been turned upside down. All Jesus asks is that we do what we can. May all God’s people say, Amen. [1] https://www.wgbh.org/news/local-news/2020/03/18/coronavirus-outbreak-brings-uncertainty-to-the-local-restaurant-business
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Risking Challenge: Are you comfortable with Jesus? Preached online on March 15th, 2020 Scripture: Matthew 22:15-22 I was once asked, albeit indirectly, “are you comfortable with Jesus?” Today as we observe Jesus teaching in the temple courts I ask you this same question, “Are you comfortable with Jesus?” As a Rabbi, Jesus’ style of teaching includes addressing students’ questions. We can imagine huddles of disciples around the various teachers in the temple courts. Their voices might be raised as they question and even argue, trying to get to the heart of an issue. The Pharisees send some of their disciples to question Jesus. They are seeking to test or trap him with a cunning question. They are smart about it. They get together with the opposition: the supporters of Herod. The Pharisees want the people of Israel to remain faithful and loyal to God, above everything else. They want to keep the temple pure, free from Roman interference and idolatry. The Herodians, on the other hand, are supporters of Herod. They are happy to collaborate with Rome. Perhaps they see that there is a financial benefit for those who cooperate with the Empire. They admire Herod for his ability to work both sides. He keeps the enormous temple open, including an ongoing construction project. And he maintains a position of power in Jerusalem, residing in his lavish palace. Our eye witness for today, Marcus, is among the Herodians. He hangs at the back of the group, taking in what Jesus has to say. First of all the two groups flatter Jesus, for his sincerity and impartiality. Then they ask him: “Is it lawful to pay taxes to the emperor, or not?" This is not an open ended question. It demands a simple yes or no answer. They are referring to Jewish law, not the law of the Empire. The Empire’s taxes are not popular with the Jewish people. The money the Empire takes from the very poorest citizens goes straight back to Rome. They don’t see the benefit. And, we can be sure, that the more wealthy collaborators have worked out some kind of a deal so they don’t have to pay so much. The Herodians want to find out whether Jesus is encouraging the Jews to rebel against Rome. If he says that it is unlawful for them to pay taxes to the emperor, they will have evidence that he is encouraging a rebellion. The Pharisees, on the other hand, are sticklers for the law of God. They are not happy about the Roman occupation in any way. They want the Jewish people to rule themselves, as a holy nation and a kingdom of priests. The law dictates that they not even bring Roman coinage into the temple because it shows the image of Caesar and declares a great blasphemy, that he is the Son of the Divine Augustus. In reply to the tricky question, Jesus cuts through the noise. He chastises the two groups for being hypocrites and them asks them to show him a coin used for tax. They present him with a Roman denarius, complete with Caesar’s likeness and inscription. And so he asks, “whose head is this and whose title?” It is the emperor’s head of course, and so he says “give to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s, and the things to God that are God’s.” Jesus is an amazing teacher, even his opponents admit it in this case. He chastises, answers and challenges them. He’s like a teacher of unruly students. They have disrupted the class, trying to trip him up. But instead of shutting them down he gives them something to think about. We often experience our best learning when we are challenged and given something to think about. Many teachers provide good information to their students. We all need to know the facts. But it is the challenges and questions that make us think. They move us on to a whole new level. One of my most respected teachers in seminary was the, now retired, UCC pastor and professor, Rev. Dr. Mary Luti. Mary has a wonderfully warm personality. She forms strong bonds with her students and yet she doesn’t let them off lightly. She challenges them to grow as they study, to become better versions of themselves. One of the first classes I took with Mary was a preaching class. I expected good things as Mary is an excellent preacher. I was surprised, though, when she provided the class with a list of books that addressed the Jewishness of Jesus. One book on the list was written by the author of our Lenten study book, Amy-Jill Levine. Members of the class were required to write a paper on one of these books. The intent of this requirement was to make the future preachers in the class aware of the damage done to the Jewish community by so much Christian teaching and preaching. At first my thought was, “of course I know that Jesus was Jewish” and “of course I would never want to perpetuate anti-semitism in my preaching.” I picked a required book “Has God Only One Blessing?” by Mary C. Boys and began my reading. In my reflection I wrote that I began reading the book with this question in mind … “How do I discover a theology that honors the Jewish faith and maintains Christ as God incarnate?” Hmm, that is a rather convoluted question, which seems to anticipate a certain outcome. It is not open ended at all. You might say it is a trick question. I had a lot to learn. Fortunately my learning about Judaism and the damage done by Christian theologies did not end with this book review. A couple of years later, I was plunged into an atmosphere of Jewish learning, when I took a program in a Jewish institution. This program was to function as a “Border Crossing” in my preparation for ministry. I was to spend a period of time studying with people from a very different culture. In my case this culture was Judaism. And so I began my studies with a group of ordained, experienced Rabbis and another Christian minister. As a group we received training and teachings from our supervisor and the resident Rabbi of the facility. And also, each week, one of the students would present a teaching, or “limud”, for the other students. I discovered that Jewish students seem to enjoy learning much more than Christians. They are encouraged to question and push back at the teacher, just like those Pharisees and Herodians in the temple. Often they learn from one another, by gathering in pairs to do a text study or Havruta learning. This can be quite a noisy process, with a lot of arguments going on. During this time I learned more about the appalling distortions of Jesus’ teaching which sowed the seeds for cruel events such as the Crusades and the Holocaust. I learned that we can only interpret the gospel, when we understand Jesus as fully Jewish. When we understand Jesus as challenging what was troubling about religious observance for him in his own group, then we can begin to challenge what troubles us about our group. In other words, we may notice the log in our own Christian eye. I was sobered to realize that many Christians still hold a supersessionist theology. This is the theology that says that Christianity replaces Judaism. It says that Jesus’ teaching supersedes the law, even though we are told in the gospel that it does not. It says that the “New” testament supersedes the “Old” testament. That is one reason why I now refer to the earlier testament as the Hebrew scriptures. Following my learning on the Border Crossing, I replaced my original convoluted question with two much simpler questions. The first was “Why would I stay in a religion that allowed terrible things, such as pogroms, the crusades, and the holocaust?” You could argue that all religions have allowed terrible things, but this is about noticing the log in our own Christian eye. The second question was even simpler and open ended “Are you comfortable with Jesus?” These questions were posed indirectly, by my fellow students during the course of our time together. When I wrote in my final paper, I provided the answers I had in mind at that time. I also said that these questions would sit with me for some time to come. They still sit with me now. But back to the temple courts and our eye witness for today … It seems, at first, that Jesus gives a clear answer to the Pharisees and Herodians question: "Give … to the emperor the things that are the emperor's, and to God the things that are God's." And yet, they are still left with a question: what are the things of the emperor and what are the things of God? Psalm 24 must ring in the Pharisees’ ears: “The earth is the Lord's and all that is in it, the world, and those who live in it; for [God] has founded it on the seas, and established it on the rivers.” It all belongs to God: the earth and everything in it. It is all to be given to God. The Pharisees may have hoped that Jesus would settle the argument for them and say that it is unlawful to pay taxes to Caesar. At the same time he would incriminate himself. But instead he presents them with a challenge: do they truly live as though everything belongs to God? The Herodians may be a little slower to pick up on this idea. Our eye witness, Marcus, ponders Jesus’ response. Not all the Herodians are Jewish. Those who are value the practicality of allegiance to Rome over devout obedience to the God of Israel. Perhaps they assume that Jesus has just answered the question in their favor: that the people should give their denarii back to Caesar. And yet, Jesus’ answer hints at resistance of the Empire. Give back those denarii to Caesar. The Jewish people’s allegiance is to God and only God. They will not carry the image of the Emperor in their pouches, they will not tolerate the inscription “Caesar Augustus Tiberius son of the Divine Augustus.” And so, today we are left with the same question as Marcus … this teacher, this Rabbi Jesus who challenges and provokes with his teaching … are you comfortable with him? May all God’s people say Amen. Risking Anger: Keeping Our Eyes on the Big Picture Preached at Wollaston Congregational Church On March 8th 2020 Scripture: Mark 11:15-19 “My name is Ruth. I have been following Jesus since the beginning. We’ve walked all the way from Galilee, these past weeks. We’ve stopped in villages where he’s healed the sick, welcomed strangers and outcasts. We’ve eaten together, laughed together and prayed together. It’s been a mission of wonders and hope. Then we came to Jerusalem, for Passover, as I have done for so many Passovers before. “This is a joyous time, it is our favorite holiday! We are going to celebrate the liberation of our people from slavery in Egypt all those years ago! We will meet friends and family from all around. And so the first place we go is the Temple, specifically to the Court of the Gentiles. This is the outer area of the temple, where people from all around the world are permitted to come. This is the place where Rabbis teach their students and engage in heated debates. Jesus loves this place. He has been coming here since he was a child. He loves to teach and argue with the other Rabbis. He calls it “my Father’s house.” He is always happiest when he is here. “And now, at the Feast of the Passover, there are many vendors, selling the spotless animals for sacrifice. This is our way of giving thanks and praise. Sacrificing is like sharing a meal with our One God. The pilgrims need the vendors, and so we’re happy to see them. Many Jews are seeking out the perfect Passover lamb. And of course, there are money changers. The temple does not deal in the currency of the Empire, but in Tyrian shekels. The pilgrims need to change their money for the holiday sacrifice. “Coming to this place is an important, necessary part of our trip to Jerusalem. Ever since my childhood, I’ve felt excited about making our offerings [to God. Back then, I would remain with my mother in the court of women, while my father advanced to bring the animal to the priest. Then I’d catch a sniff of the sacrificial smoke ascending.] It always made me feel closer to God. “Right now, the other disciples and I are focus on the sights, sounds, smells, even the flavors of this place. There’s the bleating of lambs, mooing of oxen, the soft cooing of the doves, and the chatter of the people around. I always anticipate our wonderful meal of meat. It’s such a welcome change from the boney fish we usually eat. Everything is so rich and festive! “I turn with a smile on my face, to glance at Jesus, and I am shocked. His face is set like stone, not a hint of a smile. He is not looking at the same things we are looking at. His gaze is set on the horizon, surveying what is happening around the Temple Mount. “He looks up, maybe searching for the High Priests, looking down from the upper levels of the temple. I know he has his issues with them and their collaboration with Rome. And then he looks a little furtively around, over each shoulder, as though he has the feeling we are being followed. “I shouldn’t be surprised. He’s been this way since we turned on our journey to come toward Jerusalem. He began with talk about dying soon, while we were along the route. He said strange things about the ‘son of Man’ suffering many things, being put to death, and on the third day rising again. “He withdrew from us to pray many times. Some of the disciples said that they saw him stop and weep, looking over Jerusalem, as we descended into the city. This should be a joyous time, and yet there is such a heaviness about him. “Then, suddenly, he breaks. Like a thunderstorm that has been brewing for hours, he begins to turn over the vendors’ tables, creating such a commotion. He looks really angry. But what is he angry about? “I hear him say: ‘Is it not written, “My house shall be called a house of prayer for all the nations”? But you have made it a den of robbers.’ “ -------------------------- As Jesus overturns a couple of tables and seats of vendors, we might wonder, what has prompted this outburst? Is he truly angry at these folk, who are here to support the Passover festival? Remember that Jesus’ parents, Mary and Joseph, bought a pair of doves as a sacrifice when they brought him to the temple as an infant. And, as Ruth told us, Jesus is in his element in the temple. Especially in the noisy Court of the Gentiles, which is truly a house of prayer for all the nations. Jesus keeps his gaze set on the big picture, on what is actually going on in the temple and in the city. And in this moment, he is willing to risk anger … to demonstrate how God views the situation. Jesus knows his prophets, he knows the scriptures. He quotes the prophet Jeremiah when he says that the temple has become a den of robbers. A den, for a robber, is a hideout. Robbers do not rob people in their dens. They take refuge in the hideout and store their treasures. Jesus is not criticizing the vendors themselves. There is no evidence that they are cheating the people. Their presence in the Court of the Gentiles is to be expected. No, Jesus is critiquing something larger, he is critiquing complacent religiosity. The prophet Jeremiah had been given a word from God to challenge the people of his day, who claimed to find their safety and sanctuary in the temple. Meanwhile they ignored the needs of the orphans, the widows and the poor among them. Jeremiah challenged the temple-worshiping people of his time, and Jesus does the same. Taking refuge in our houses of worship, while failing to respond to the poor of the community is a message for us all. In our time, we work hard to create a safe place for our elderly, for children and families, to come and worship in our churches. Many churches provide Christian education programs, youth groups, and Bible studies. We want our people to feel safe and welcomed. And yet there is a fine line between a place safety and welcome for all people, and a comfortable club for like-minded people. Here at WCC are we being challenged to look at the big picture? Are we being challenged to ask: Is our church a safe place for people to ask difficult questions of one another? Is it a launching pad from which we can challenge the injustices in our culture? Or is it simply a place for us to hideout and take refuge from the wider world? And in worship, are our hymns, prayers and rituals, simply memories of good times past? Or are they declarations of God’s radically inclusive mercy and grace? Do they speak to our guests from the community, who come to join us? Or are they only meaningful to those of us who’ve been around here for a while? Can we claim, like the Refuge church in Denver, that in our church “everyone is safe but no one is comfortable”? [1] Perhaps you know about Father Bill’s Place in Quincy. This is a shelter for those in need, that was founded by community leaders and churches in the 1980’s. The founders had thought that the problem of homelessness would be quickly solved and expected that the shelter would be temporary. But, today, Father Bill’s sleeps 130 people in need of a place to stay each night. They provide individuals, families and veterans with food, counseling and shelter until they can find a place to live. Father Bill’s is located in the former RMV building, behind the Police Station. But this building is tabled for demolition, in order to make room for a new public safety headquarters. Father Bill’s administration has proposed a new model, a “housing resource center.” They say that this “would help at-risk residents avoid homelessness while building new affordable housing and continuing to offer emergency beds.” This all sounds good, yes? But let’s ask what is going on in the big picture. What might happen between the demolition of the old site and the construction of the new one? Will the political powers-that-be allow Father Bill’s to implement the new plan without spending all their energy on permitting and petitioning? Or is the demolition a convenient way of getting rid of an unsightly problem? Where will our un-housed neighbors find shelter in the interim, and will the housing resource center actually come to fruition? As these questions are being worked out, Father Bill’s needs the support of the faith communities. In fact, Quincy clergy of all faiths and denominations have been asked to speak for Father Bill’s Place. I am proud to say that 37 faith leaders of Quincy signed a letter addressed to our mayor, our city councilors and state representatives, expressing support for Father Bill’s in this transition. Soon, we will probably be asked to send letters of support from the congregations too. This is one way we can keep our eyes on the big picture. Even risking anger, if it is necessary. ---------------------------- For now, let’s return to Ruth, our eye-witness of the disruption in the temple: “Our visit to Jerusalem that year was very different from the visits we had made before. I know that now. We – me and the other disciples – didn’t want to look at the big picture. We wanted to continue along the same path, celebrating the high days and holidays with Jesus. Of course, we liked his talk, of healing for the sick, food for the hungry, clothing and shelter for the poor. We just didn’t like the disruption it would take to bring it about. “We wanted things to be the same. We didn’t want to ruin the feel-good holiday by risking anger. We didn’t want to see the things Jesus saw. “But now, I know what Jesus saw. “He saw the Roman soldiers, patrolling and circling the Temple Mount. He saw gangs of insurgents, huddling in the Court of the Gentiles, passing their messages from one to another. And maybe, as he glanced over his shoulder, he saw some of Caiaphas’s spies, people who would follow him, at a distance, all week long. “He knew his disruption would cause trouble. But he couldn’t contain himself any longer. His love for God, his passion for God’s people, spilled over. “Once Jesus had simmered down, we turned away from the temple courts to retreat back outside the city walls. I was beginning to get a feeling about this week in Jerusalem. I realized that the previous day’s parade, and this day’s disruption would seem insignificant in light of what was coming.” May all God’s people say Amen. [1] Evans, Rachel Held. Searching for Sunday (pp. 72-73). Thomas Nelson. Kindle Edition Risking Reputation Preached at Wollaston Congregational Church On March 1st, 2020 Scripture: Matthew 21:1-11 This morning we stand at the threshold of Holy Week, the entry into Jerusalem. Usually we would read this story on the Sunday before Easter, Palm Sunday. And, indeed we will return to it then. But for now, we pause to look at the scene of Jesus entry into Jerusalem. We ask is this a parade or a protest? And would we risk our reputation to join in? Our character, Phillip, stands high on a rooftop. He’s seen many Passovers in Jerusalem. Now he’s here with his with grown children and small grandchildren. They found lodgings in a neighboring village. As the head of the household, Phillip returns to the temple each day to mingle, pray and make arrangements for the festival. He’s a merchant, he expects to run into a few clients during the holiday. Right now he is looking in on the action from on high. Earlier in the day Phillip saw the Roman parade of military power and might coming into town. He saw Pilate, the Roman governor, mounted high on a noble warhorse, leading a column of soldiers. Pilate was in full armor, carrying an immense sword and was flanked by military guard. At the head of the parade the standard bearer held a scepter bearing the Roman Eagle, a symbol of triumph. Phillip had waved and cheered, without conviction. This is not a time to be seen resisting the occupying forces. This is a time to lay low, to enjoy the Passover holiday with family and friends. It’s time to be seen supporting the temple authorities and the status quo. But his cousin, Enoch, has convinced him to stay and watch the Rabbi ride in to town. He’s heard whispers that this is it, the revolution! Should he stay and watch, or get out now back to the village? Things could get ugly very quickly. He’s heard that the Rabbi, Jesus, has gathered crowds from the countryside: subsistence farmers, servants, slaves, and sex workers. They are the hungry, hurting people at the very bottom of the Roman food chain. He’s heard that the Rabbi’s disciples are young, passionate and ready to fight. Dare he risk being seen by his Roman clients, as he observes this revolutionary parade? He looks down, trying to catch a glimpse of the disciples brandishing farm tools and swords. He imagines Jesus leading the charge. Has he acquired one of Pilate’s warhorses somehow? Then he hears the first chants of the Jesus parade. “Hosanna!” God save us now, it is a prayer! The crowds have gathered branches, and they are laying down their worn old cloaks to make a path. From around the corner, coming down the rocky path into the city, the Rabbi appears. And he is riding a tiny mount, his feet grazing the ground. It’s a colt, the foal of a donkey. “O Lord!” he thinks “I can’t be seen following this Rabbi! My Roman patrons can’t see me following a fool on a donkey. It would kill my business.” Jesus is performing a pantomime to highlight the contrast between the way of God and the way of Rome. The Romans ride mighty warhorses. The soldiers wield swords in a show of power. They insist on cries of “hail Caesar!” Their intent is to maintain control, to affirm the loyalty of the masses. And so Jesus borrows a baby donkey, and his followers sing ‘hosanna’ … “save us now.” They sing the truth: that the current conditions are not satisfactory. They show their conviction that Jesus can make things better. Their parade is provocative and it is truthful. The disciples and followers and buoyed up by the spectacle. They are thumbing their noses at Pilate! The city is full of Jewish people who have come from far and wide to celebrate the feast of the Passover. The holiday itself declares that God rescues God’s people from oppression and slavery. The people are primed with scriptures that anticipate the coming, saving Messiah. He will be the Son of King David and will re-establish the legendary reign of justice and peace. He will come into the city in peace, riding on a colt, the foal of a donkey. And the crowd will sing “hosanna.” I have attended a good number of parades in my time, small town 4th of July and Memorial Day events. I’ve marched with the Girl and Boy Scouts from the town dump to the cemetery to the war memorial. The scouts held their banners and flags respectfully high. I admit, though, I am more reluctant when it comes to protest marches. I’ve only ever been on a few. I like to think that I pick and choose my causes carefully. And yet, I wonder if my reluctance has more to do with the risk that comes with a protest. I’m nervous about the safety of protest marches. They can turn rapidly from peaceful to violent. The passion of a crowd is potent thing, not easily contained. Violence can be injected by those with other agenda. Nervous law enforcement can get caught up in the moment, even triggering violence themselves. Then there’s the question of being seen. Where do I want to be seen and with whom? If I join a protest, might there be one of my co-workers among the onlookers? Will someone take my picture and post it on social media for all to see? Am I ready to tell the world about the causes I support and whom I follow? And if I’m honest a large part of my reluctance is apathy. I am far more comfortable sitting at home on my couch, than making the trip to join the protest. I’m happier cheering on the protesters from the comfort and privacy of my own living room. These past months I have been doing just that for the brave folk who are protesting the gas compressor station being erected just a couple of miles from here. I admire the good work they have done researching the health and environmental impact of the project. I admire from a safe distance as I hear reports on the radio, and read about the protests in my newsfeed. Once in a while, though, I have been sufficiently roused from my apathy to join a protest. I remember walking with the young women of our church in the “March for Our Lives” protest two years ago on Palm Sunday weekend. We were walking in support of the Parkland, Florida students who were demanding a meaningful response, following the mass shooting at their school that year on Valentine’s Day. From the few marches I’ve joined, I’ve learned what makes for a good protest: singing and dancing. Of course, there are the banners with their pithy slogans. And there is anger, over issues like equal pay, fair treatment under the law, health and education, or the government’s failure to act when our health and environment is threatened. But it’s the spirit and hope of coming together, joyfully in a common cause that empowers and encourages most protesters. It takes a lot to rouse us to join a protest parade doesn’t it? Often times we’re sleepy. We don’t want to get off the couch. We feel stuck with things as they are. We don’t want to risk our reputation, being seen out and about with rebel rousers like Jesus. I wonder what would it take, to rouse all generations to join the Jesus parade. What would it take, to declare that our communities could be freer, more just, more equal, healthy and whole, if we follow his lead? I wonder what it would take, to rouse the young from their habitual, path to from sleep to work and from work to sleep. To rouse them from the conviction that the boomers have created their destiny. The conviction that there is no escape, from debt and drudgery, from climatic devastation, from the inevitability of ingrained party politics. I wonder what would it take to rouse the middle aged, from our conviction that retirement is our goal. To rouse us from the conviction that we’ve made our contribution and so we deserve a rest. The conviction that our responsibility to shore up worn out institutions. The conviction that our reputation is what counts. I wonder what it will take to rouse the old from the belief that they barely have the energy to get up each day. That they can only do the necessary things to stay alive. From the conviction that they cannot take on anything new, or anything different. The conviction that their life path is now defined and they cannot deviate. I don’t know what it would take, but just imagine if it happened. Imagine if this story, of Jesus and his disciples, followed by the crowds, woke us all from our apathy and from our fear of looking foolish, of risking our reputation. The young sing, dance, and set the pace. The old are not far behind. Many are ambulated in wheelchairs by the young, who create a dance for the ones who cannot walk. They sing old tunes that the lost ones can remember and they warble along. They push the white haired and feeble to the front of the line. They place crowns on their heads, wrapping velvet blankets over their knees, making them kings and queens. They sing ho-sanna, hey-sanna. The middle aged, well you have to look for us. Most still haven’t gotten the news. They haven’t heard that this is the place to find vibes, energy, and zesty-ness of spirit. They hang back like Phillip, the man who observes the parade from the balcony. He is thinking that this Jesus fellow has some good ideas. But he’s untested. To go with him would mean letting go of all he knows. “Better the devil you know” they say. “Stay with Pilate,” he reminds himself, “rest on solid ground.” Then he feels the smallest tremor rippling under his feet. The ones who are hanging back are the only ones who notice it. The young and the old in their songs and dances don’t feel a thing. They’ve been swept away, awoken by the moment. Pilate and the military machine of Rome track slowly forward. Boots and hooves stomp the ground too solidly to be swayed. But Phillip feels the tremor. He has the troubling feeling this Passover week is going to be different from any other. Then he takes a deep breath, shakes his head of these silly ideas. He will let the parade to go on without him. He needs make arrangements for his family’s Passover dinner. He has responsibilities. He can’t risk his reputation. May all God’s people say, Amen |
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April 2022
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