Sermon for Sunday, May 21, 2006

The Making of a Church III: Inclusiveness

Acts 11:1-18

Real men will eat anything, right. I remember attending a game dinner many years ago. It must have been a bad year for venison, because the real men ate fowl and skewered pieces of marinated raccoon meat. Yes, I tried it. No, I didn’t have seconds. What the most disgusting meat you’ve ever eaten? The thought of it turns your stomach? The Apostle Peter might be able to tell you his nightmare meal.

In the Book of Acts, chapter 10 God showed Peter a vision of a backwoods banquet coming down out of heaven. There’s some snake and a bunch of reptiles. God says, “Go on, Peter, have a bite.” I don’t know if anyone here has ever eaten snake before. Some people say it tastes like chicken. In case you’re interested, I scoured the Internet for snake recipes. Here’s my favorite - -a recipe for East Texas Fried Rattlesnake Dinner that contains all four food groups.

1. Bake a chocolate cake (this is the 1st food group).
2. Fry two pounds of bacon in a cast iron skillet. Leave ½ pound on the drainboard to munch on while you’re cooking, and put the rest in the fridge.
3. Go outside and find a big rattlesnake. Kill the snake. Nail its head to a tree.
4. Go in the house, skin and boil six large potatoes. (Potatoes are the second food group)
5. Go back outside and cut the snake down the middle being careful not to ruin the rattles. Cut the skin away from the head. Pull down hard and steady. Lay the skin in the sun to dry and instruct the dog to leave the snakeskin alone.
6. Slice the snake meat into half-inch thick patties. Pour a lot of flour onto two plates, and scramble three eggs in a bowl. Put black pepper and some cayenne pepper into the plates. When you think you have enough pepper, add some more. After all, you’re about to eat a rattlesnake. Dip the meat into the plates of flour and then gently lay the battered meat into the hot grease. If done correctly you’ll not get burned. If done wrong, you’ll learn.
7. Leave the meat in the grease until it’s brown on the bottom, then turn it over.
8. Meanwhile, fork-test the potatoes. If they’re done, drain off the water, add a stick of butter (3rd food group) and some milk.
9. Put two cans of peas in a big bowl with a half stick of butter. Put the bowl in the microwave and nuke them.
10. Leaving the fire low, slowly sprinkle the left over flour into the left over grease and scratch it around until the flour is cooked. Slowly add whole milk, while squishing out the lumps. Don’t add too much milk. The final consistency resembles grayish-brown wallpaper paste. This process takes some practice, but eventually you will scratch through the lumps and have the fourth food group: gravy.
11. Take the peas out of the microwave and the bread out of the oven. Put everything on the table. Call everybody to eat.
12. Feed them fried rattlesnake while you eat mashed potatoes, gravy, peas and chocolate cake.

The outdoorsmen of the world tell us that snakes, racoons, possum, squirrels -- all that stuff is tasty when it’s prepared correctly. Apparently, Peter was disgusted by it all. Maybe Peter just didn’t have a good recipe.

In the first century, the great question was one of boundaries. Where would the lines be drawn that would determine who should hear the gospel and who would not. Believers assumed that God’s recipe for a good church was limited to those who followed the commandments and rituals of Judaism. The first church members called themselves Jews. They worshiped like Jews. They did not associate with anyone who was not Jewish. It was against Jewish law to be in contact with Gentiles and their traditions. The early Christians kept kosher homes and obeyed the Jewish laws. The law said that no Jew was allowed to eat things like pigs, or reptiles, or shellfish, or certain species of birds. You can imagine how Peter’s horror when he sees these unclean animals in a vision. God tells him to eat the forbidden animals. Then God sends Peter to the home of Cornelius – not only an unclean Gentile, but a Roman army officer.

Peter visits Cornelius and tells him the story of Jesus. The Holy Spirit immediately fills Cornelius. He and his entire household convert to Christianity. This blows the minds of the good Jewish followers of Christ. It is unbelievable to them that God’s love would actually reach out to unclean and idolatrous gentiles. The other Apostles hear about this and call Peter to task. God reminds his followers that the boundaries of the kingdom reach farther than they ever dreamed. I think we need a reminder of who the church is, and what we are called to do.

Since we were kids, someone told us that God loves everyone. This doesn’t mean that God just loves those who are popular, or good looking, or the ones who have it all together. It also means that God loves those whom the world labels as ugly or incompetent. The membership rolls of the early church sound more like roll call at a detention camp. The church converted people who were seen as low-lifes – religious zealots, the poor and oppressed, helpless charity cases, and foreigners. The church is not a special club for people who have it all together. The church is for rejects. The church is a place for people with real pain to hear words of healing and hope. This place exists because all of us have been unfaithful, unworthy, undesirable and unsure, but because of Christ we have never been unloved.

An inclusive vision of the church means that we restlessly commit ourselves to preaching and teaching the message of God’s love. We don’t do it because we think we are better than others. We do not speak about Jesus to swell our membership roles. We tell others about God’s love because we love them and we’re are convinced that humanity is doomed without God’s loving touch. The message that people both inside and outside this church need to hear again is that God loves you and every person with equal passion and devotion People will never hear this life-saving message if we don’t tell them, and we can’t tell them if they are not welcome among us.

People are not welcome if we judge them according to our misperceptions. Dodie Gadient, a veteran schoolteacher decided to travel across America and see the sights she taught about. Traveling alone in a truck with camper in tow, she launched out. One afternoon rounding a curve on I-5 near Sacramento in rush-hour traffic, a water pump blew on her truck. Despite the traffic jam she caused, no one seemed interested in helping. Leaning up against the trailer, she prayed, 'Please God, send me an angel . . . preferably one with mechanical experience.' Within four minutes, a Harley drove up, ridden by an massive man sporting long, black hair, a beard and tattooed arms. With an incredible air of confidence, he jumped off and. Without even glancing at Dodie, he went to work on the truck. Within a few minutes, he flagged down a larger truck, attached a tow chain to the frame of the disabled Chevy, and whisked the truck and trailer onto a side street, where he worked on the water pump.The schoolteacher was too dumbfounded to talk. Especially when she read the paralyzing words on the back of his leather jacket: 'Hell's Angels -- California'. Dodie finally found the courage to say, 'Thanks so much,' and carry on a brief conversation. Noticing her surprise at the whole ordeal, he looked her straight in the eye and mumbled, 'Don't judge a book by its cover. You may not know who you're talking to.' With that, he smiled, closed the hood of the truck, and straddled his Harley. With a wave, he was gone as fast as he had appeared.”

Given half a chance, people often crawl out of the boxes into which we've relegated them. Don’t let judgments and assumptions guide you. God’s love belongs to everyone, and everyone belongs in the church. Whether the advice comes from your grandmother or a Hell’s Angel, it’s still true: Don't judge a book by its cover. You may not know who you're talking to.

God wants us not only to tell, but also to show his love. By themselves, words can be meaningless until they are backed by action. For instance, what does a visitor see when he or she attends worship here? Do we look bored and fidgety, or do we actively worship our Savior? If we look like we can’t wait to get out of here, then our actions might show that we are here just out of mere obligation. If we act like we love God and enjoy being with each other, we confirm that our faith has actually had an impact on our lives. Our neighbors, our families, our children, and even complete strangers are watching you, and they want to know if all this talk about Jesus and church really makes a difference in your life. The church can become an inclusive community when we back up our words with integrity-filled actions.

In 1999 a little church in Decatur called Oakhurst Baptist Church was ejected by the Georgia Baptist Convention for a variety of issues having to do with Biblical interpretation and inclusiveness. In the 1960's this congregation took a stand against segregation and had lost two-thirds of its members. In the 1980's the church opened its doors to the homeless, who have been welcomed and have worshiped there ever since. In fact, the pastor tells about the time when he and his young son were visiting another church facility and his son asked, “Dad, where do the homeless live here?” He assumed that you could not have a church without a place for your homeless friends. One day, when the congregation was in the news, a developmentally disabled church member saw a TV camera and hurried over to offer to be on television. The reporter extended his microphone and asked, “Tell me, what do you like about this church?” John grinned and answered, “They love everybody here.”

I’ve been to similar churches. I think of one church in that regularly opens to all. On any given Sunday, this church has business professionals, college professors, group-home residents, and homeless people all worshiping together, praying for one another and celebrating each other’s lives. Another I know sends out its “worship wagon.” The Worship Wagon goes to the homes of elderly people and others who can’t get to church. They are driven to the worship service and returned home afterwards. Churches like these realize that we are not fully the body of Christ until everyone is included.

Don’t you want to be part of a church that changes the lives of others by modeling love and devotion? Who will invite others in and show them the love of Jesus? Who will seek out those who are different from us, those who are disabled, or lonely, or hurting, or socially different? Who will show them that someone cares, that we loves them, that we believe in them because God cares, loves and believes in them?

Do we want to see the church to have an impact on the culture around us? Do we want to see people’s lives touched by God? If so, it means being committed to living God’s vision of an inclusive church. It means being personally responsible for telling all people about God’s love, and showing them love in action, even if it stretches our comfort zones, and even if it challenges our faith.

Sermon for Sunday, May 14, 2006

The Making of a Church: Calling

Acts 9:1-20

Pastor Jack J Stahl has decided that the best way to take God to the people is via the medium of Tom Jones records. He is available to conduct funerals, exorcisms and weddings - you just can't choose your own music. Stahl says, “Since I was six years old, I have used the angelic voice of Tom Jones to get in touch with the Holy Spirit. To me, his voice is spiritual, soulful and supernatural. So when God called me into the ministry in 1990 it only made sense to incorporate Tom Jones into it. Simply stated, it works for me. With the help of 'The God of Voice' Tom Jones, miracles happen and people are healed.” With the help of Tome Jones, Pastor Stahl can banish the devil or your foot fungus. An interviewer asked Stahl How he performs exorcisms using Tom Jones' music. Stahl says, “I usually lay my hands on the person's head or wherever they need a healing. I ask the person to agree with me in asking for the miracle from God. I briefly explain that I need to have the angelic voice of Tom Jones playing to enable me to get in touch with the Holy Spirit. I then start the Tom Jones song, scream at the Devil, often curse at him and cast him back to the bowels of Hell. I am baptised in the spirit and speak in tongues. You have to understand that the Devil is a bully and when you stand up to him he runs like the coward he is.” Why does Stlahl think that demons respond to the Welsh heartthrob? He says, “The Devil hates anything that is of God . . .just because something is different does not make it wrong. God calls different people into different ministries. I am simply answering my calling.” (http://www.bizarremag.com/real_people.php?id=1596#)

If I’ve heard it once, I’ve heard it a hundred times. People want to know what God calls them to do. When we feel lost or aimless, we will often make our lives busy and frantic. In the hurried pace of trying to do more and more to make ourselves better, how often do we stop, sit still, and listen (and make sure that what we are hearing is God and not Tom Jones).

Today we look at story that deals with hearing and responding to the voice of Jesus. Before we read the Scripture, allow me to set the scene. Last week we read about the boldness of the Apostles who preached the resurrection of Jesus Christ. Their preaching reaches many new converts. There aren’t enough Apostles to oversee this new religious community. They choose seven men who are known to be full of the Spirit to help. One of the men is named Stephen. He is full of God’s power, and performs miraculous signs among the people. His faith in Jesus enrages religious leaders. The leaders bring Stephen to court and accuse him of blasphemy. At trial Stephen reverses the accusations. He calls the Sanhedrin the blasphemers. The accusers become infuriated. They cover their ears and, and yelling at the top of their voices, they rush at Stephen, drag him out of the city and kill him.

Stephen becomes the first Christian martyr. Persecution breaks out against the church. One of the persecutors is a Pharisee named Saul. Saul travels from house to house, dragging men and women to prison in an attempt to destroy the group who called “The sect of the Nazarene”, or “the Way.”

Later, Saul will become known as Paul, the Apostle to the Gentiles and the most influential thinker and preacher in all of Christianity. He started out as the ringleader in a campaign of violence. After hearing the voice of Jesus, he becomes a follower. I refer to this episode as the calling of Paul. Some say that this story represents Paul’s conversion to Christianity. The term ‘conversion’ may lead us to believe that Paul changed his religion: the Jew became a Christian. But, the NT is clear that Paul remained a Jew who fulfilled his calling as an Apostle to the Gentiles. This is not a conversion from one religion to another, but a call to a specific mission.

The term “call” can be confusing. I have heard people say to me, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard God’s call.” Having a call simply refers to knowing God’s specific purpose and plan for your life.

Saul listened to the voice of Jesus. He stands in contrast to the members of the High Court who close their ears to the preaching of the gospel. While traveling the 150 mile stretch to Damascus to the north the heavens open up and strike Saul with a blinding light. A heavenly voice speaks to him and no one else seems to hear it. Just moments before Saul was so sure of himself. Now, in this desolate area, God speaks, and God is Jesus.

One step in knowing God’s call or purpose in your life is to listen the voice of Jesus. The voice of Jesus calls us to stop living contrary to God’s will. The voice calls us to turn our lives around and seek the things of God. I realize that to some this may all sound strange. How exactly are we supposed to listen to this voice? After all, it sounds foolish for me to wait for cosmic voices. People who hear voices usually get “sent away for a while.” How many of us really expect God to speak to us from the clouds and give instant direction to our lives? I’ll admit, I’ve never audibly heard the voice of God, and I’ve never had an experience like Saul’s, but I am learning how to identify the thoughts and feelings that I experience when God is trying to get my attention.

For me, hearing God involves a process. I knew I was supposed to be a minister from the time I was 12 years old. Friends would say, “What do you want to be when you grow up.” Some would say sports star. Some would say president. I wanted to be a minister. If you knew me back then, I would not have struck you as a spiritual child. Like today, I was a loud-mouthed free spirit. Somehow, as a sixth-grader, I sensed God’s call into ministry.

By the time I graduated college, I changed my mind and decided to be a High School English teacher. I knew I was supposed to enter the ministry, but I wanted options. The thought of being a minister terrified me – especially the part about getting up in front of people and preaching week after week. After sharing my struggles, some loving friends sat down with me and helped me to listen and clarify what God was trying to tell me. When I couldn’t ignore God’s consistent voice any longer, I turned...and I listened. God spoke to me though the voice of others, and started me on a process that helped me decide my future.

Sometimes people ask how Chris and I knew we were supposed to come to Trumbull. It was not a single momentous experience where we heard God’s voice saying “Go Ye to Trumbull and preach My Word.” The call was a process. We prayed, and talked, and read, and prayed some more, and shared our struggles with others, and talked some more, and prayed some more, until we felt we had a firm grasp on what God wanted us to do. At the same time, the search at this church committee prayed, and interviewed, and prayed, and discerned the church’s future, and prayed some more, and involved the congregation. We heard God through the process.

Have you ever had to make a decision like that -- something that affects the outcome of your entire life? In our noisy world of competing voices, how does God speak?

1. God is heard in the Bible. When we take time to read and reflect on

Scripture, we can hear God’s voice and learn God’s will.

2. God’s voice can be heard in confessions and creeds of the church.

3. God’s voice can be heard in liturgy and music. We come to church to worship, and sense God’s presence through our acts of praise. Don’t be surprised if God nudges you by something you sing, or something you see in a stained glass window, or the words of a prayer.

4. God’s voice can be heard through trusted friends, and Spirit-filled members of the community of faith. Such voices give guidance and direction when we are confused about God’s will.

5. God can be heard through the Holy Spirit working directly in your heart and mind. But don’t go over board. Once I was in a church where people heard words of from God. Worshipers would stand and share these prophecies. One of “the regulars” once stood and said, with crunched eyes and folded hands, “there is someone here who has a deathly fear of alligators. God wants to heal you today.” We were in Danvers, MA. There were no alligators within a thousand miles. I would think God might say, “If you’re afraid of alligators, don’t go fishing in Florida swamps.” Direct words from God need to be tested against scripture and the church’s leadership.

Maybe God is trying to get your attention on the Damascus Road of your life. Have you ever come to a place where you can no longer resist the sound of that urgent, persistent voice that asks you to do something new for Jesus Christ? God’s voice still speaks today. God may not speak to you with blinding lights and booming noises. He may begin to speak slowly, and gently, and tenaciously. He calls us to seek, to trust, and to follow. If you have never heard that voice, or if you’ve just been ignoring it as you turn your head away to listen to other messages, I encourage you to silently listen to the voice of Christ which says, “Come, follow me, and believe. God is doing something new, and I want you to be a part.”

Listening is not enough however. We need to be obedient to the voice of God. It’s one thing to listen. It’s quite another to trust God and yourself enough to do follow through. In a vision God told Saul to go to Damascus and meet Ananias in order to see again. Can you imagine how frightened Saul must have been? He’s struck blind and he has to face the very people he set out to destroy. In another vision, God tells Ananias to heal Saul. Can you imagine how frightened Ananias might have been? God tells Ananias to heal the man who wants to kill him. Ananias, the persecuted one, becomes the healer. God humbles Saul, the persecutor, and calls him to return to the Pharisees and preach the message the Good News.

Sometimes the voice of Christ asks us to do difficult things. Jesus calls us to leave our comfort zones to follow. He calls us to stop behaviors that conflict with God’s desires for us. Jesus calls us to do the impossible, things like loving our enemies and loving God more than we love our comfort. I don’t know about you, but for me such demands frighten me. They put me in a place where I can’t trust my own accomplishments or experiences anymore. Obedience means yielding all of our actions to the demands of God’s kingdom.

We are called to obey God’s will at home, loving and serving our children and or our spouses in a way that brings honor to Christ.

We are called to obey God’s will at work and school, taking a stand for what we believe to be true, even when it makes us disliked or unpopular.

We are called to obey God’s will for our personal lives, living with honesty and integrity even when no one else is watching.

We are called to obey God’s will around friends, not caving into peer pressure, and not giving anyone else a reason to blame Christians for being hypocrites.

We are called to obey God’s will as a church, finding ways to invite everyone to be a part of what God is doing.

We are called to obey God’s will around strangers, knowing that our lives may be the only Bible they ever read.

How do we make the church strong in the midst of today’s culture? We seek God’s calling in our lives. We listen, and we obey. And we allow God to use us to transform the world around us.

Sermon for Sunday, May 7, 2006

The Making of a Church: Boldness
Acts 5:17-42

Tim Burke video taped this sermon for me. You can see it at this link:

http://upload.tmbphoto.com/Sermon.mov

Prayer: May we refuse to speak your name, unless we speak with the full-throated cry of fools and lovers.

Let me share another prayer with you. It was printed in a popular newspaper a while back.

Now I lay me down to sleep
I pray my Cuisinart to keep
I pray my stocks are on the rise
And that my analyst is wise
That all the wine I sip is white
And that my hot tub is watertight
That racquetball won’t get too tough
That all my sushi’s fresh enough
I pray my cordless phone still works
That my career won’t lose its perks
My microwave won’t radiate
My condo won’t depreciate
I pray my health club doesn’t close
And that my money market grows
If I go broke before I wake
I pray my Volvo they won’t take.

We can’t escape culture and it’s trappings. But, how do you think we, as Christians, should interact with the culture? In our tradition, protestant reformers cried Sola Scriptura. Theirs was a call to engage culture with an authentic understanding of Scripture. But, whose interpretation do you trust?

Some people think the church should pour a steaming cup of scorn on culture. These churches want to protect their members by providing a safe haven against society’s contamination. Some of our neighboring congregations say their mission is to be, “in but not of the world.” In other words, church members physically reside here on earth and but this is not their real home. They look forward to a day when Christ will return and restore them to their real home in heaven. They see the church as a refuge where members can get away from Sponge Bob Square Pants, and the Powerpuff Girls and be encouraged in their faith. Here’s the problem. Christian enclaves develop their own culture, with activities and catch phrases that the rest of us can’t understand. [i]

Some churches do just the opposite. They throw the doors wide open and make room for the culture. Instead of the fear underlying the first approach, these churches adopt the values of the surrounding society. Ron Sider, founder of Evangelicals for Social Action, says that his tradition is suffering a crisis of disobedience. Christians divorce at the same rate as everyone else. Materialism destroys the church’s generosity. Christian spouses are just as abusive as non-churched spouses.[ii] The problem is that accommodating churches can begin to look like a bowl of cold unsweetened oatmeal – without form, taste, or substance

Some people want to protect themselves from the culture. Others see culture as a positive influence. Both are convinced that they are right. I think there’s another way. The stance of the church should not be that of a community that has all the answers, but a people who are in process.[iii] What if we stopped worrying about whether we bar the doors or fling them wide? What if we prayerfully go where Jesus goes, instead of assuming Jesus is going to come to us? I think God wants us to adjust our lives to profess hope in action. I think God wants us to have tender and sensitive hearts so that we can do the God-sized work that the church is supposed to do.

Over the next few weeks, we’ll be looking in the Book of Acts to see the God-sized work the early church was called to do. I hope we will see some characteristics that apply to our churches. We begin by reading an account of a court appearance of the Apostles.

In today’s reading, we meet a group of religious and political leaders known as the Sadducees. The Sadducees were known by their conservative views and wealthy members. They held the power in the Jewish court. Unlike the Pharisees, the Sadducees didn’t believe in an after life, or in the resurrection of the dead.

You can understand why they don’t like hearing about these followers of Jesus who go to the Temple, heal the sick and preach the resurrection of Jesus from the dead. All this teaching about Jesus being alive goes against everything they stand for. So they throw the Apostles in prison, and command them to speak no more.

Have you ever felt like the status quo challenges your faith? If not, just try to seriously use the name of Jesus in a public invocation. Somehow, we accept the false notion that God no longer belongs in the public sphere. To publicly speak the name of Jesus means that we’re trying to shove our religion down someone else’s throat. The silencing of the gospel is subtle. In the name of tolerance, we’re asked to keep the boundless love of Christ to ourselves so that no one else is offended. For the sake of not offending someone, we are tempted to ignore the suffering around us. For the sake of everyone’s comfort, we believe it when we’re told that church is just something for Sunday mornings. We are tempted to backtrack on our beliefs so that our churches are nice and pleasant places, like a kindly old great-grandma who sits in the corner and gently gives out hard candy to the kids. Is this really what Jesus intends for his church?

The Apostles may help us to find some answers. We learn that they make a miraculous escape from prison. As free men, they have some choices to make. They can run away and deny their faith in Christ. After all, they’ve done it before. Didn’t they run away from Jesus in his most desperate hour, leaving him to die with his executioners? Wouldn’t it be natural for these men to cut their losses and hide? The Apostles know the disappointment of running away. They have experienced the consequences, and know it isn’t an option.

What if they say -- “OK, it’s time for plan B. We are going back to Galilee. We will construct a chapel, and just meet there on Sunday and sing songs about Jesus. People will be curious, and they will come and sing with us. This way, nobody gets hurt” ?

What decisions do we make when our faith in Christ is challenged by society’s status quo? Do we run in fear? Do we compromise? To we apologize for our faith, and try hard not to offend any on else in the future? When the culture of tolerance asks us to keep silent about our deepest beliefs, what can we do?

What do the Apostles do? They do not run. They do not start a capitol campaign. They go right back to the spot where they were arrested and start preaching right where they left off. The religious authorities arrest them again and the Sadducees declare, “We gave you strict orders not to preach in his name!” But the Apostles know what they saw. They lived with Jesus. They saw him die. They touched his scarred hands, and talked with him after he rose from the dead. They will not be silenced. They don’t cave in to the demands of the powerful. As Peter says, “We must obey God rather than human authority” (v.29).

For their boldness, they are flogged – probably with the punishment of forty lashes minus one -- a punishment endured by those who offend Jewish law. It was meant to be a serious lesson to offenders. People died from it. They are released with strict orders not to speak again. Then we read something strange and amazing: their punishment filled them with joy. They rejoiced that they were found worthy by God to take on their share of suffering for the sake of the Jesus They did not keep quiet. They could not keep quiet as they went back to the Temple a third time and preached about Jesus.

From this point on, and throughout history, boldness in the face of persecution causes the church grow. From this point until today, men and women will be arrested, questioned, and persecuted for their faith in Christ. And their boldness will cause the church to become strong.

Here we are today, in this church in humble Trumbull, confronted by the boldness of those who have gone before us -- those who made it possible to be here. How do we confront the pressure to accommodate the demands of a culture that really doesn’t care much for what the church has to offer. The Apostles' answer is boldness. We have something worth offering to those around us.

Many will say it’s impossible to transform the culture. “The world is too hard. Too secular. Too post-Christian. This is the age of information, not regeneration.” So the world around us goes untouched and untaught. You know what? We have some real good news for people. God is still at work today. God’s in the business of healing the brokenhearted and binding the wounds of the hurting. God’s concerned for the needs of the poor, the sick, the lonely, and the powerless. God’s actively involved in the struggle to free people from sin, fear, oppression, hunger, and injustice. God is leading us to a just, peaceable, and loving world through Jesus Christ.

Those who go out to live the message of Jesus will come back weary and wounded, numbed by rejection and hurt by the resistance . . . and filled with joy.

More than ever, our neighbors, even our own families need to hear and to know that Jesus Christ is alive, and that he can change thing for the better. History reveals that the church grew because of the boldness of those who believed in Jesus. They talked about it with their lips, and backed it up with their lives. Today we are faced with a decision. May we walk and talk with the same character, integrity, and boldness of the Apostles, convinced that our message, and God’s Spirit, still has the power to transform lives in the name of Jesus our Lord.

---

[i] “Culture: Hate It? Love It? Redeem It!” by William P. Smith

http://www.byfaithonline.com/partner/Article_Display_Page/0,,PTID323422%7CCHID664016%7CCIID1875406,00.html

[ii] The Scandal of the Evangelical Conscience, 27-29.

[iii] Douglass John Hall, The Cross in Our Context, 195.

Sermon for April 24, 2006

I Need a Sign
John 20:19-31

I guess Easter is over for another year. The lilies are fading, attendance is down from last week, and the candy has long since been devoured. And in churches all across America today, substitute preachers fill the pulpits. Pastors often take the week after Easter off. There are two main reasons we are advised to do this. First, the week before Easter is usually a very busy week in the life of the church and the preacher. There are additional worship services to prepare, all of which require extra time and energy. And then comes the main event: the Easter Sunday worship service. Do you know what the Easter service is for the preacher? It’s like the Super Bowl for preachers. It’s like the seventh game of the World Series, or the NCAA Championship! If you’ve got a good sermon in you, you’d better trot it out for Easter! I try to have a good sermon prepared every Sunday – sometimes I succeed, sometimes I fail - but Easter is special. Not only is Easter the holiest day of the year for the church, it is also the only chance the preacher may have to communicate the Gospel to those who come to church only once a year. We know that last Sunday, in churches all over the United States, people who could usually care nothing about the church 51 Sundays out of the year put on their Easter outfits and came to worship services. Most of them are not in church today. They’ve gone back to their normal Sunday routine, whatever that may be. While these “Easter Christians” sometimes frustrate me, I have to confess that I have a warm place in my heart for those folks who only show up for church once a year. As we worship, I can see their faces register shades of doubt and puzzlement at the apparent faith of everybody else. They look to the right and to the left and see other people singing “Christ the Lord is risen today.” But when they go back to where they live the other 51 Sundays of the year and receive the news of the death or serious illness of a loved one, it’s hard for them to accept Easter’s assurance that “death is swallowed up in victory.”

It’s hard, the week after Easter, to pick up the morning newspaper and read murders in communities, or to face the doctor and hear, "I’m sorry. We’ve done all we can." The fact is that all of us – not just our Easter visitors – have to wake up on the Monday after Easter to a world that has not changed because of what we celebrated. Life goes on and Easter doesn’t seem to make a difference. I want to tell you that it’s okay. According to the witness of Scripture, you’re in very good company if you feel that way. I’m not just talking about Thomas, who must forever bear the nickname, "Doubting Thomas." Thomas isn’t the only disciple to doubt the resurrection. When we read the accounts of Easter in the Gospels, one thing they all have in common is that the first reaction of all the disciples when they first receive the news of the empty tomb is doubt and fear. They didn’t know what to make of it.

This morning we are going to discuss what to do when we begin to doubt the resurrection power of Christ. What do we do when the resurrection seems like an empty promise? What do we do when we need to encounter Jesus, and we aren’t sure if he’s going to be there when we need him? What do we do when we need a sign that Jesus is alive and at work in the world? Today’s text from John’s gospel speaks to some different times when he can trust Christ to show himself to us.

To begin with, Jesus reveals himself to those who continue a connection with church

Look at verse 24. John tells us that Thomas was not locked away with the other disciples when Jesus first appeared. Because he was not an eyewitness to the Jesus sighting, he refused to believe the hearsay of the other disciples. I wonder where Thomas was when Jesus first showed up. Some think that Thomas’ doubt kept him away, but that doesn’t seem likely to me. Thomas never lacked courage. He loved Jesus. He volunteered to go to Jerusalem with Jesus when the other disciples were afraid. Thomas was a what-you-see-is-what-you-get kind of guy. He’s the kid in your class who raised his hand and asked the questions that everyone else was thinking but never asked. Biblical scholar William Barclay thinks that maybe Thomas was so brokenhearted that he couldn’t meet the eyes of the other disciples. He just wanted to be alone in his grief. No matter the reason, I can’t help but notice that Thomas separated himself from the disciples. He withdrew from Christian fellowship. He sought solitude rather than fellowship and he missed the first appearance of Jesus.[1]

Perhaps the gospel suggests to us that Christ appears most often within the community of believers that we call the church, and when we separate ourselves from the church, we take a chance on missing Christ’s unique presence. When we disconnect ourselves from our brothers and sisters in the church, we can’t fully experience God. When sorrow comes to us, or when sadness envelops us, or sickness visits us, we tend to close ourselves up and refuse to meet people. That’s the very time when, in spite of our sorrow, we should seek the fellowship of Christ’s people. But we are most likely to meet Jesus face to face when we are with others.[2] So, if you want to see Jesus, don’t go it alone. Continue your connection with the church.

Once in the church, we need to realize that Jesus reveals himself to those who don’t deny doubt.

Jesus didn’t blame Thomas for doubting. So often, the church handles doubt by squashing it. But Jesus never condemned Thomas for doubting. I think Jesus understood that once Thomas worked through his doubts, he would be one of the most faithful men in the Kingdom of God. I don’t know about you, but I am skeptical of people who say that they’ve never had any doubts‑‑people who always seem so sure. Sometimes I have my doubts. Sometimes I wonder if my whole ministry is based on absurdity. I see the pain that others go through. I sit with the sick and dying. I hear the cries of families who mourn the death of a loved one. Sometimes I think silently to myself: Is my faith true? Is resurrection a reality?[3]

Growing faith honors the value of doubt. Thomas comes to his expression of faith only after stating his misgivings. The kind of faith that will see you through the dark nights of the soul each of us must endure rarely comes without questioning and doubt. In fact, it usually comes as a RESULT of questioning and doubt. We’ve been brought up in a religious environment in which doubt is pictured as the opposite of faith. But doubt is not the opposite of faith. Unbelief is the opposite of faith. Doubt has a positive role to play in faith development.

I don’t want to be a doubting Thomas and neither do you. But we are frequently faced with unresolved issues of faith, questions that have no easy answers. As the church, we often tend to dismiss questions and doubts as the byproducts of immature faith. In our conviction that we at least know some of the answers, we sometimes act as if we have ALL the answers. Do you know what the three least-used words in the vocabulary of the church are? I DON’T KNOW!

Couldn’t we respond more positively to questions and doubts by using them as learning opportunities? Can’t we learn from our doubts and questions that even though we don’t know exactly where Jesus is leading us, it’s enough to know that he makes the journey with us? Our Lord doesn’t meet our doubts with scolding, but with a demonstration of grace. If we want to see Jesus, we need to embrace doubt. But it can’t stop there. We need to allow God’s grace to transform our doubt.

Jesus reveals himself to those who found faith on frailty.

What if the church changed its view of and teaching about Thomas? What if we began to picture him as a person who had the courage to admit his lack of understanding? After all, he wasn’t willing to profess Jesus as Lord without believing. What if the church celebrated Thomas’ willingness to express his honest doubts? Maybe we would see that Christian faith is a belief that exists in the presence of doubts rather than a belief that has to remove all doubt in order to exist? Maybe w would believe that faith is actually strengthened by an honest acceptance of doubts. Maybe then the church would be seen by unbelievers, or those unchurched folks we’re trying to attract to our churches, or those “Easter Christians,” not as people who think they have all the answers, but as people just like themselves. Perhaps we’d be seen as people who cling to their faith in spite of the uncertainties of life – people who are just as human and fallible as anybody else? We need to learn the benefit of doubt. We need to embrace the truth learned from the example of Thomas that doubts may not always lead to answers, but they almost always lead to spiritual growth.

Thomas may have doubted, but when he saw the resurrected Lord faith began to take roots in his heart. And once faith took root Thomas cried, "My Lord and my God!" He was then sent to pronounce to the world along with the other disciples that forgiveness had come.
When they began to build a suspension bridge across the Niagara Gorge, it all began with engineers flying a kite across the chasm, playing out the kite string until the kite reached the farther shore. Then twine was tied to the string, and rope to the twine, and wire to the rope, and cable to the wire. In due time, mighty cables were suspended from great towers and anchored on either side in the depths of the earth, and the bridge was built.

So the Christian faith, erected by the hand of God, carries you and me and generations through time to the further shores. But it all began with the frail strands of people like Peter, Mary, Paul, James and John and Thomas — doubting Thomas. What the Lord did for them he can do through them for us, if we only let him. Continue your connection with the church. Don’t deny doubt. Found your faith on frailty. Then you will see Jesus.

[1]William Barclay, The Gospel According to John (Edingurgh, St. Andrew Press, 1955), 320-321.
[2]Barclay, 321.
[3]www.SermonIllustrations.com, April, 2000.

Sermon for Easter Sunday, April 16, 2006

An Awkward Ending
Mark 16:1-8

Prayer of Illumination
O God, light of the minds that know you, life of the souls that love you, strength of the thoughts that seek you: Help us to know you that we may truly love you. Help us to love you that we may fully serve you, whose service is perfect freedom. Amen.

What are you afraid of? My son, Nate, asked me this the other day. Rallying all my bravado, I confidently said, “I’m not afraid of anything.” I want to project the image that I have nerves of steel, because nothing seems to freak me out. I barely blink an eye at many of the things that scare the pants off others. If I were a character in a horror movie, I’d be the person walking calmly into a haunted house despite the slamming doors and demonic voices. OK, I may be afraid of a few things: I’m afraid of Shirley Maclaine. I’m afraid of a government-runt website called CIA for Kids. I’m afraid of emotionally scarring toys, like the Dean Martin hand puppet I saw the other day. Seriously, I have a few irrational fears and hang-ups. But nothing like some of the debilitating phobias I hear about. Here are a few: Aerophobia: fear of drafts. Porphyrophobia: fear of the color purple. Chaetophobia: fear of hairy people. Levophobia: fear of objects on the left side of the body. Dextrophobia: fear of objects on the right side of the body. Calyprophobia: fear of obscure meanings. Thalassophobia: fear of being seated. Stabisbasiphobia: fear of standing and walking. Odontophobia: fear of teeth. Graphophobia: fear of writing in public. Phobophobia: fear of being afraid.

Today’s account of the resurrection from Mark is scary, too. Imagine being one of the women who go to the tomb to prepare Jesus’ body for final burial. His dead body is supposed to be in a new grave, with a colossal stone blocking the door. When you get to the tomb, the stone is rolled away. Jesus is gone. And a man in white tells you that Jesus is gone. Verse eight leaves us with a surprise ending to the story: The women are trembling and bewildered. Imagine a chill running up your spine that makes the hairs on your neck feel electrified. Your heart is pounding in your throat, your eyes are bulging . . . adrenaline is racing. This is how the women may have felt when they reached the empty tomb. They run away from the scene in terror. Here is Mark’s strange resurrection narrative. By the way, the fear of tombstones is Placophobia .

If you followed along with me as I read, you noticed there a few more verses in Mark’s gospel. I think a nervous editor in the second century added the final verses because he didn’t think the gospel wasn’t complete without a spectacular ending. Someone added resurrection appearances of Jesus, the granting of supernatural power to the Apostles, and a final scene of divine commands. Even some of the most conservative biblical scholars agree that the gospel ends with the eighth verse which best reads like this: “Overcome by trembling and terror, they went out and fled from the tomb. And they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.”

Can you imagine being afraid of the resurrection? I can. We hide from it every Easter. We hedge the celebration of the resurrection by surrounding ourselves with a secure wall of bunnies, chicks, eggs and baskets. For some people, a kind-of-cruise control Easter experience is just fine. Sit back and relax and enjoy the ride, not too deep, not too meaningful, but definitely predictable. All too often predictable becomes immoveable.[1]

Today’s text has nothing to do with the predictable trappings of Easter. Instead, we have to deal with an awkward ending to the Gospel in which people flee in terror. We hear about three women who followed Jesus throughout his ministry. They heard his teachings. They witnessed his miracles. They watched and mourned from a distance as he hung on the cross. They loved Jesus. They served Jesus. But now something happened that completely jarred them. Jesus is not where they expected him to be. He’s not in the grave. Jesus said that he would be condemned to death, turned over to the Gentiles, flogged and killed, but that he would rise three days later (Mk. 10:33-34). The disciples didn’t get it then. His followers still don’t understand as they gape into the empty tomb.

The women’s fear at the empty tomb demonstrates their inability to believe the Good News. By the end of the story, when the man in white tells them to go and tell the others what they’ve seen, they are silent. Their muteness represents a failure to comprehend who Jesus really is, and what he has come to do.[2]

At this point, the outcome of Mark’s gospel is left up in the air. The women are told to go to find the disciples and spread the message of the resurrection. They do just the opposite. Their mouths are silenced by fear. They never even meet the risen Lord. What are we to make of this?

This past Lenten season confronted me with my own failure at discipleship. It’s hard to come to grips with, and I share it only because I think that maybe some of you have felt the same way. I know I’ve done things that displease the Lord. I make choices that deny the power of Christ in my life. On a daily basis I go through my routine and I’m faced with choices: do I believe that Jesus is the risen Lord and Savior or not? Is my faith going to make a difference in my day-to-day living or not? Am I going to act and speak boldly for Christ, or will I hide away in fear and trembling because Jesus is not who I expected him to be? Some of my conversations with people reveal similar fears.

Some people are terrified to make a serious faith commitment to Christ because of the nagging suspicion that it’s not true. The gospel makes a good story or moral lesson, but it is unrealistic to believe that it really happened.

Others are afraid to get serious about the faith because they’re afraid that following Christ means becoming a “radical.” People will look down on us. We’ll be rejected. We’ll have to go around spouting indefensible views

And sadly, some just don’t care. They’ll say, “Resurrection or not, life goes on. It’s nice to hear about in Church and all, but it has no real impact on my life.”

Like the women at the tomb, we all have some choices to make. We need to decide if Jesus is who he says, or not.

I read a story of a high school science teacher who announced to his class a few days before Easter break, “The Easter story is nothing but a myth,” He proclaimed, “Jesus not only did NOT rise from the grave, but there’s no God in heaven who would allow his son to be crucified in the first place.” A student named Jimmy protested. “Sir,” he said, “I believe in God and I believe in the resurrection.”

The teacher replied, “Jimmy, you can believe what you want to. However, the real world excludes the possibility of miraculous events such as the resurrection. The resurrection is a scientific impossibility. No one who believes in miracles can also respect science.”

“God isn’t limited by science,” Jimmy responded. “He created science!” The teacher proposed a scientific experiment. Reaching into his refrigerator, he produced a raw egg and held it up. “I’m going to drop this egg on the floor,” he stated. “Gravity will pull it toward the floor with such force that the egg will most certainly break. Now Jimmy, I want you to pray right now and ask your God to keep this egg from breaking when it hits the floor. If he can do that then you’ll have proven your point, and I’ll have to admit there is a God.” After pondering the challenge for a moment, Jimmy slowly stood to pray. “Dear heavenly Father, I pray that when my science teacher drops the egg it will break into a hundred pieces! And also, Lord, I pray that when the egg does break, my teacher will have a heart attack and die! Amen.” After a unison gasp, the stunned class sat in silent expectation. For a moment, the teacher did nothing. At last, he looked at Jimmy and then the egg. Without a word, he carefully put the egg back in the refrigerator.
I guess the teacher believed in God more than he thought he did. Many people, like that teacher, deny God exists. They will argue against the power of Christ. Jimmy knew that God wouldn’t strike his teacher dead, but he also knew his teacher wouldn’t bet his life on it. Would you be willing to bet your life on your views? Because Jesus either is Savior of all, or he’s a liar.

Either he died on a cross to take away our sin, or he was a pain-loving, crazy man.

Either Jesus died and rose again to conquer death and make our ruined lives whole, or it’s all a strange bunch of fiction.

Either you run to the outstretched, nail-marked hands of Christ, or run away in fear.

You seek to obey, or you hide.

You live to serve the risen Lord, or you skulk away, afraid that his expectations will be too burdensome.

We have some choices to make, and our answers will decide the quality of our relationship with God. Will we allow ourselves to be fully-dedicated followers of Christ, or will we be spiritually hollow?

Some people wonder why Mark would end his gospel with scared women running away from the empty tomb. Who ends a book on Jesus by writing, “they were afraid”? I think Mark leaves it this way on purpose. By the end of the gospel, we still don’t meet Jesus. Maybe Mark invites us to make our own response to this awkward ending. If we want to see Jesus, then we must follow where he leads. Seeing the risen Lord all depends on our obedient response to his call.[3]

Make no mistake about it – God calls you to follow this morning. I believe that you are all here for more than an entertaining Easter service or a seasonal obligation. I believe you are here this morning because the Lord wants you to experience more out of your spiritual life. Some of you are being invited to get more serious about a faith that you’ve put on the back burner for a few years. Some of you are being called to believe the truth about Jesus Christ for the first time. Others of you are confronted with fear and unbelief and are ready to take a step of faith and follow Jesus where he’s leading you. The choice is yours. No one will force you to respond. No one is going to ask you to sign anything. No one is going to meet with you later and lay a guilt trip on you. Here’s the deal: this is between you and God. Jesus either rose from the grave or he didn’t. You decide to follow where he leads or you don’t. You commit yourself to love the risen Savior, or try to find satisfaction with self-sufficiency.

Look into the empty tomb this Easter. Jesus is not there. He rose from the dead and waits for your response. Are you eager to obey, or are you afraid to believe? Do not be afraid. Go where the Lord leads. He promises that you will see him, just as he told you.

[1]The Rev. Claire Woodley-Aitchison, http://www.dodgenet.com/~ tzingale/sermonb/easter.
[2]Morna Hooker, The Gospel According to Saint Mark (Peabody: Hendrickson, 1991), 387,392.
[3]Hooker, 393.

Sermon for April 9, 2006

Passion or Palms?[i]
Mark 11:1-11

With vacation season right around the corner, I came up with my own itinerary of CT attractions that I might drag my family to see. We will load up the camper and do a weekend tour of unique state attractions. Here’s what I think: We begin in Stratford at the Garbage Museum to learn about recycling and visit the dinosaur 24-foot long dinosaur sculpture created out of household garbage. While in Stratford we will stop in Boothe Park. In the early 1900’s the wacky Boothe brothers decided to put together a park of attractions. Buildings from all over the world were re-constructed and appear haphazardly around the park. The Boothe boys would appear in parades dressed as Uncle Sams and other interesting characters. The park also holds three log toll booths disassembled from the old Milford tollbooth, replicas of presidential birthplaces, a windmill, and a funky clock tower building.

From there we go to Waterbury to visit Holy Land, USA. For two decades, Holy Land USA has been a post-nuclear Road Warrior vision of the Holy land, perched on a bluff overlooking Waterbury. It’s a fascinating and horrifying wonder of neglect. The creator built hundreds of structures, and grottos using discarded plywood, tin siding, chicken wire, cement and fragments of religious statuary. Holy Land USA was a legitimate vacation destination for families in the 1960s and ‘70s, drawing as many as 44,000 visitors a year. It recreated a miniature Bethlehem, impenetrable assemblages of junk, creepy tunnels and blasted out buildings, stories of gang murders and a mysterious order of nuns. It is now gated up, but I here you can still see it from the perimeter gate.

By now the car will be dirty, so we will stop in Cromwell at the Wacky Car Wash. Then we head over to the Old Statehouse in Hartford to see the Museum of Natural and other Curiosities. In the early 1800’s, collector John Seward found albino critters, a two-headed calf, exotic birds, a giant lobster claw, and a pageant of taxidermy marvels. Next, we travel to Willimantic on July 4th for their annual Boom Box Parade. In 1986, when a local resident heard there would be no parade that year because the high school had no marching band, she went to the local AM radio station, talked them into broadcasting a couple hours’ worth of marching band music on July 4th, obtained a parade permit, and rounded up a bunch of friends to dress in red, white, and blue and carry portable “Boom Box” radios down the main street. It is still an annual event. We end our trip in New Haven with lunch at Louis’, birthplace of the hamburger. The burgers are made from fresh ground meat, and served with only cheese, tomato, and onion, NO KETCHUP. I suggest everyone gets there, but not in August, they are closed for the annual spoon inventory.

Of course, there will be packing to do. We will have to find a campground or two, get some good maps, save up some funds. A journey, even as strange as my little road trip, is a major event.

Today we embark upon another journey together. This week, our worship services will give us a chance to listen to Scriptures that take us from a field near Bethany to Jerusalem, from Jerusalem to the Mount of Olives, from there back to Jerusalem, and from Jerusalem to Golgotha. Finally there’s the journey from Calvary to the tomb. Each one of these journeys is a major event in itself. Each new path taken seems to draw us deeper into the darkness. Death and burial beckon us. The Holy Week services will only reinforce this reality. Perhaps that’s why many of us avoid Holy Week. We like happy endings. Let’s skip the pain and get on with the joy! Let’s wave the palms and cheer Jesus on, but avoid the pain of the passion that follows.

The Palm Sunday story begins with a donkey in a field. The donkey is of the most neglected characters in the Palm Sunday story. Donkeys are conventional beasts. They love doing things the same traditional way. The donkey is obviously a congregationalist. “Adventure” and “donkey” just don’t go together. It lives in the same field, treads the same path, and eats at the same hour-day-by-day, year-by-year. Then one day, strangers enter the field, put a halter around the donkey and pull it away. Most donkeys would resist. Donkeys can be very stubborn. It is one thing to be called to do something within the context of the life we enjoy. Journeys of faith are something else. Leave adventure to those odd folk who seem to have nothing else to do but get involved in a cause!

The handlers take the donkey to Jesus and they put clothes on it’s back. Had the donkey been able to speak it might have loudly objected that it was good enough as it was. It didn’t need dressing up. “I don’t come to where Jesus is to be changed. I come for comfort. I come for recognition, for affirmation. To be told that I am alright.”

Jesus sits on the donkey. No one ever rode that donkey before. It’s awkward for the little donkey to carry people around. Leave that to horses. In the ancient Middle East, kings could enter a city in two ways. Horses were used for war. So if the king road on a horse, it usually meant trouble. If they came in peace, they would ride a donkey, a humble act. Try telling that to the donkey. It might have done what donkeys do, reared, and kicked, and tried to throw its human cargo off. After all, carrying Jesus around is for religious fanatics, but surely not for us. We don’t come each Sunday to carry the yoke of Jesus around. What would our friends think? If we are asked whether we have given our lives to Jesus, we may prefer subtle denial.

So, the journey into Jerusalem begins and the crowds cheer and gave a ticker tape welcome (using palms instead). Maybe the donkey thought the cheers to be in honor and praise of donkeys! After all being a Jesus-carrying donkey was an extraordinary achievement. “What a unique donkey am I,” this animal might have thought. If it had attempted to acknowledge the crowds, Jesus might have been tossed aside. Instead the donkey plodded on to the place where Jesus would die.

All through Holy Week we find people drawn to Jesus. They hear him, but then they resist him, or try to change his message, or avoid what he asks people to do. Or they denounce him. The crowds who wave palms and cheer Jesus on, later cried “Crucify him!” Religious people plotted his death. Most of the disciples ran away rather than face suffering and death. They just didn’t like the way the story was working out. They feared reality. Peter denied him. He was scared. He couldn’t risk arrest. After all, Jesus put him charge. In the end only Simon of Cyrene was conscripted to be a faithful donkey and carry the cross, only the faithful and brave women and John the Disciple stood and watched the reality of a barbaric execution. Only Joseph of Arimathea was brave enough to offer a tomb.

Each of these journeys draws us into a world of darkness, of betrayal, of naked power, of cowardice and of death. Those of us who love a brave new world, inevitable progress, a comfortable pew, joy, peace, and love . . . Those of us who find illness, separation, betrayal, the use of naked force, darkness and death offensive, may be uncomfortable by this day and the days that now are before us. In 1974, a cultural anthropologist write a Pulitzer prize-winning book called The Denial of Death. Becker’s studies led him to believer that human beings are mortal, and we know it. Our sense of vulnerability and mortality fosters anxiety, even a terror, about our situation. So we devise all sorts of strategies to escape awareness of our mortality and vulnerability. This denial of death is one of the most basic drives in individual behavior, and is reflected throughout human culture. Indeed, one of the main functions of culture, according to Becker, is to help us avoid awareness of our mortality.

But Christian faith never offers an escape from reality. It draws us into the reality of this world as Jesus, who is one of us, confronts and submits to the worst humanity has to offer. Jesus dies. He really dies an agonizing and dreadful death. In that agony, Jesus dies to all the acts of betrayal, false ambition, power, authority, evil and corruption that lies within the human race and within each of us.

Today we begin a journey. It begins with palms. But those must be put down as remember the passion. For a few hours, when the last journey is over, we will be left with a dead Jesus in a tomb. There’s no Easter in the lessons today. Nor will there be all week. Unless we can walk these paths, leaving our comfort zone, our self-satisfaction, daring to walk beyond safety into the darkness of evil and death, carrying Jesus to the tomb, we will not even begin to grasp the power of the Resurrection.

[i] Based on “Palm Sunday,” by The Rev. Anthony F.M. Clavier

Sermon for April 2, 2006

An Extravagant Offering

John 12:1-11

I’m a dead man. Yeah, you heard me right. I’m a dead man. At least I was. Certified, and mummified -- buried in the family tomb. I wish I could explain to you what it feels like to be dead. I just don’t have colorful enough words in my vocabulary to paint it for you. I can tell you this: There was nothing romantic or beautiful about it. Death is an offense to beauty. No matter how hard you try, a corpse is never attractive. No embalmer’s art can change that. So, maybe your wondering how a dead man gets to stand up here and speak to you. Let me tell you what happened. This is going to blow your mind. There I lay - lifeless in a dark crypt for four days (Not that I had any concept of time passing). It was just dark...until I heard that voice–familiar, anguished, and inviting. It was like I heard a whisper in the back of my head saying, “Lazarus, come out,” and I just couldn’t help it. I got up and walked out of the crypt right to Jesus. And let me tell you, did that freak people out! I can just imagine what it must have looked like to others–this linen-wrapped mummy-man lumbering out of a dark tomb into the hot Mediterranean sun. I remember seeing my sisters, Mary and Martha, gape-mouthed and weeping for joy. Most of all, I remember Jesus’ tear-soaked, enraptured face.

Well, as you can imagine, we had a BIG party. When the power of God raises you from the dead and gives you a new lease on life, you don’t just shake hands, go out for a drink, and say, “Thanks man, I owe you one.” Especially when it all happened to someone like me. I mean, I’m not a well-known person in this town. I’m not a politician or a religious leader. Just a regular, hard-working sort of guy. But, Jesus, my friend, came to me and gave me my life back. No, you don’t let that go without having a big celebration.

All kinds of people were there. I’m kind of a people watcher myself. So I just took everything in: Jesus and the disciples, some friends and neighbors. Others were gathering outside, trying to get a peak at me and Jesus through the windows. And my sister Martha was bustling around as usual. Martha is a practical woman. She shows love by keeping busy. Always cooking and cleaning. She gets frantic about details when we have parties, especially when Jesus is here. Everything has to be just right. Usually she’s bossing me around. “Lazarus, go get some more water. Don’t forget to start up the barbeque. Make sure everyone has enough to eat.”–Things like that. She wasn’t bossing me around at this party, though. I was the guest of honor. I sat at the head table with Jesus, just watching everything happen.

My other sister Mary is just the opposite of Martha. She’s not really a detail person. I’ve never known Mary to have emotional outbursts. But you should have seen her at my party. She came out of the back room with a clay pot, about the size of a pint jar. She broke the cap off it, and the luxuriant fragrance of perfume filled the air. This was not cheap Syrian toilette water, either. The stuff cost $10,000, imported directly from India. It was the most precious thing Mary owned.

I was taking a drink from my cup when she broke the jar and poured the perfume over Jesus’ feet. I was so shocked I practically showered everyone with the water in my mouth as I choked on it (which, by the way, wouldn’t have made Martha happy. I can hear her now, “Lazarus, I swear you live in a barn. Use some manners. We have company.”) Anyway --Mary could have splashed a couple of drops of perfume in Jesus’ direction as a token of thanks. My sister Mary doesn’t do things halfway. She went and poured the whole bottle over the Lord’s feet. Not his head, like I expected, but his feet. The odd thing was, she wouldn’t even look Jesus in the eyes. It’s almost as if she didn’t want to be recognized. She just poured out the perfume and then began to wipe it with the hair on her head. You have to understand, in my world, women don’t go around in mixed company with their hair loose. When a girl is married her hair is bound up, and it’s never seen flowing loose in public again. Only immoral women appear in public with loose hair. So, here is my sister, acting like a cheap floozy with the guy who saved my life.

Now that some time has gone by, I realize that Mary didn’t really care what the rest of us thought. It reminds me of when two people are really in love–they are in a world of their own. Remember, I’m a people watcher. I see how people act when they are captivated by each other. They steal quick hand touches and eye glances. They rejoice that the world sees their love. Or have you ever seen a child who is free and uninhibited? She just loves what she’s doing at that moment, no matter who is watching. That’s Mary. At that moment, it was only Mary and her Lord.

Looking back on things, maybe Mary was the only follower who had good focus that night. I remember how irritated Judas was. Judas was always a little critical of others. Judas reminds of a joke I heard:

While traveling separately through the countryside a Hindu, a Rabbi, and a Critic were caught in a terrific thunderstorm. They sought shelter at a nearby farmhouse. “That storm will be raging for hours.” The farmer told them. “You ought to spend the night. The problem is there is only room for two in the house. One of you must sleep in the stable.” “I’ll be the one,” said the Hindu. “A little hardship is nothing to me.” And he went to the stable. A few minutes later there was a knock at the door. It was the Hindu. “I’m sorry he said to the others, but there is a cow in the barn. Cows are sacred creatures and I cannot impose.” “Don’t worry said the Rabbi, make yourself comfortable. I will go sleep in the stable” A few minutes later there was another knock at the door. It was the Rabbi. “I hate to be a bother,” he said, “but there is a pig in the stable. In my religion pigs are unclean, I wouldn’t feel comfortable sleeping near a pig.” “Oh, all right said the Critic, “I’ll go sleep in the stable.” A few minutes later there was a knock at the door. It was the pig and the cow.

The point is, nobody likes a critic. So we all rolled our eyes when Judas opened his mouth. “What a colossal waste!” he cried out. “Lady, you could have sold that perfume and given the profits to us so we can help the poor. Instead you just dumped it out.” There was nothing but silence in the room. Mary paused only for a moment before she went back to wiping Jesus’ feet with her hair.

Most people knew Judas was a crook. We never knew why Jesus let him hold the money. I guess Jesus saw something in that guy that the rest of us didn’t. Well, Judas was seeing dollar signs. In a sense, I guess I was too. I thought to myself, “Laz, Judas has a point. There are better things to do with valuable perfume than pour it on someone’s stinky feet. It’s really not rational. How are we going to live if Mary wastes our treasures? It’s not responsible to our family. Why not sell it, and give a small percentage of the proceeds to charity? We could feed a few poor people. We could buy a few things we want around the house. We could put it away and send the nieces and nephews to school.” Mary kept wiping the Master’s feet with her hair, almost hypnotically. As I watched her my thoughts were filled with a list of ten more things we could do with $10,000. Then Jesus spoke. “Leave her alone,” he said. Jesus bent down, and lifted Mary’s head up to met her eyes. Jesus looked right at her with discerning eyes and a knowing smile, but he was talking to the rest of us. “She was saving this perfume for this moment. She’s getting me ready for my death. There will always be poor people to give to. Let’s worry about them another time. You don’t always have me here.”

We had no idea what the man was talking about. We said things like, “Jesus, you’re not going to die soon. Knock it off. You’re going to bust up the party.” It turns out that as we were overprotecting Jesus, some priests were plotting how to kill him. I heard they even put a hit out on me. I guess they were a little jealous over the competition. At any rate, Jesus knew he was going to die. He raised me to new life, and the price for it was his own life.

Here I am, a man who has the chance to start everything new. Jesus gave me a opportunity to set a new life in motion. Nothing has to be the same.. You know, there are some things we can do almost any time; and there are some things that we will never do unless we seize the moment when it comes. I have so often been captured with the desire to do something big-hearted and then I put it off until tomorrow. When tomorrow comes, the impulse is gone, the passion has burned out, and the opportunity is lost. If I’ve learned one thing from being a dead man, it’s that life is uncertain. We are moved to share some words of thanks, or praise, or love, but we put it off, and who knows if that person will be around tomorrow to hear it? It’s like what Jesus said. The poor will always be around, but he wouldn’t. The night of my party, Jesus gave us the opportunity to love him. Mary knew it

I guess it’s really not about the money. It’s not the amount of the gift, but it’s what we give. Mary gave more to Jesus than a pint of remarkably expensive perfume. The most costly, the most extravagant thing she offered was her devotion to Jesus. Her love of Jesus made the costly perfume seem cheap in comparison. When I realized how I was holding back, I felt cheap in comparison, too.

I still smell that perfume in the house. Every time I walk into the front room, my nostrils are satisfied with a sweet reminder of what Mary did to show her love for Jesus. I owe my new life to Jesus. And what do I have to offer? What’s my most extravagant offering? My money? My time? My expensive gifts? Mary taught me that those don’t mean a thing if I can’t also express my gratitude through love. Mary’s perfume reminds me to do it now. The chance may never come again, and missed opportunities may bring the bitterest remorse of all