Untying Our Way to Easter

Zechariah 9:9-12; Luke 19:28-40

 

Palm Sunday 2013

 

            Jesus paused.  He paused amid the olive yards, fig orchards and palm groves that sat on the sloping hillside some two hundred feet above and immediately to the east of Jerusalem.   He had traveled round this way many times before -- especially when heading to Bethany, the village where his good friends Lazarus, Mary and Martha lived.   

            On this day, He paused in prayer and in deep sorrow.   The devastating sin of all God’s children and the sad, sad conquered state of the holy city compressed his holy heart like an accordion sounding a slow, soulful lament.    He alone understood what lay ahead after this final, faithful descent into the valley of Kidron and then up through the great gate.     Many a mighty prophet before him had passed this way, had looked down from this Mount of Olives ridge where Ezekiel had proclaimed the glory of the Lord stood (Ezekiel 11:23).  But none had gone as far as he was about to go.  

            The pause was not just to take a personal and historic inventory.  It had the purpose of propelling his divinely and carefully prepared plan further into motion.    He did so by sending two of his closest disciples ahead into a village to secure his ride.     This would be a ride downslope through a massive gathering of faithful people eager for his mission – as they understood it – to commence.   

            Jesus had eternal understanding of their pregnant human expectations.  He knew that he needed just the right ride for his most sacred journey.   He didn’t factor things like comfort and speed into this decision.   This wasn’t going to be a royal race to some grand finish.     It was going to be a carefully measured parade toward his full passion as the Son of Man.    His ride needed to be about powerfully symbolic impact.    And so he chose a young donkey that had yet to ever carry a passenger.

            The disciples were to find this colt waiting for them, untie it, and guide it back up through the hopeful to the hilltop haven.   This was no random act, Jesus had made careful arrangements.    So when the disciples were asked by the owners of the colt why they were untying it, they did as Jesus commanded them to do by replying, “The Lord needs it.”   Perhaps that was some agreed upon password between the owners and Jesus.   It worked.   After untying it, they brought it to Jesus so He could climb upon its cloaked back and ride on, ride on into his Holy Week journey …

            I haven’t set foot in the ancient holy land.   I’ve seen lots of pictures, and I quite enjoy studying, visualizing and describing what Jesus and the disciples directly saw in their day.    And I’m particularly grateful for small but significant details provided by the Gospel writers.    This week, a zoom lens closed in on how Luke tells us the detail about untying a donkey.  

            I love that we are told this because of what that donkey symbolized (which I’ll mention in a minute) and because Jesus’ holy journey to fully reconcile us with God did not commence until his disciples were obedient to the specific task given to them.     It inspires me to wonder … what should we be untying as we make our way with Jesus to Easter 2013?    I’m inspired to answer that we need to be untying human expectations, unhealthy pride, and any reluctance to call and present ourselves as Jesus’ disciples.

            Jesus did not choose to ride through the fanatical throng astride the back of a majestic warhorse.   Had it been the holy plan to lead a very this-worldly, violent, bloody overthrow of Roman rule, this would have been the appropriate ride.    Again, he knew the human expectations he was going to be passing through … how, from their palm waving, royal parade perspective, his arrival was supposed to be the opposite experience of the inglorious day King David fled from Jerusalem as his third son, Absalom, was trying to assassinate him.   He knew the people saw homecoming in him, the triumphal arrival of their new and glorious God-appointed king, the One to save and restore Jerusalem and the Israelites.    He knew they completely counted on God’s long-promised Messiah and on their notions of what power this would bring.

            What a surprise it must have been to see Jesus’ ride.    His being astride the colt was contrary to their rather violent expectations.   He had chosen to fulfill the five hundred year old prophecy of Zechariah (9:9), to pass through them in a way that symbolized sacrifice, humility and peace.    He was indeed their new king, their Messiah, but they weren’t really prepared to untie their culturally conditioned expectations so as to grasp hold of and trust the fact that God alone had the true plan to secure their salvation.    We know this to be true because they soon felt betrayed, and so they in turn betrayed.  Within days they were demanding to have Jesus crucified.    There’s no word on what became of the poor colt.

            This week, let us untie any of our expectations about God’s power being aligned with the emotionally, physically and systemically violent power-playing ways of this world.   Let us instead parade great humility and choose to follow paths of peace as we ride along with Jesus toward Easter morning.       

            Every such step helps us to untie our unhealthy pride.    Of course, having a certain amount of pride in ourselves is a vital part of daily living.   It gives us our sense of purpose, bolsters positive self-esteem, empowers us to build on our life accomplishments and contribute to the greater good.   The trouble is, our human pride, saturated in sin like a cucumber in a jar of souring brine water, so often slips into disrespectful arrogance.    19^th century theologian Soren Kierkegard defined our being in this pickle quite well when he wrote that “The proud person always wants to do the right thing, the great thing. But because he wants to do it in his own strength, he is fighting not with man, but with God.”    

            Want to check the spiritual health of your pride?    Return to this morning’s lesson from Luke and picture yourself standing in the crowd as Jesus passes by you.    As you go about waving and lying down royally symbolic palm fronds as well as welcoming cloaks, ask yourself – Do I truly want and trust God’s way of sacrificial love and unifying peace to completely rule my heart and absolutely reign across this world?   

            This would have been the right question to ask a couple thousand  years ago for rightly welcoming Jesus as the Messiah-King.    It’s still the right question in 2013.  This week, untie any unhealthy pride and reconfirm your utter allegiance to the broad, bold amazing grace of God in Jesus Christ.  

            The third and final thing I’m inspired to ask us to untie this week is any reluctance to call and present ourselves as Jesus’ disciples.    Notice how in the story of Palm Sunday, Luke very clearly identifies as disciples the two who helped Jesus secure the colt and as well as all those in the crowd welcoming him on his sacred journey.   They weren’t more loosely identified as faithful folks, or followers, or friends, or members, or volunteers.   

            The Greek word used by Luke for disciple means learner, a student.    He was referring to people on a real world learning curve, committed to constantly seeking knowledge of God through Jesus and to intensively practicing to the point of good habit all the things about God’s kingdom that Jesus taught by word and example.   

            In your mind and heart, as well as before others, can you recall the last time you’ve first and foremost identified yourself as a disciple, as a devout student of Jesus Christ?    I’m thinking most of us have at least some reluctance to state this.   It’s more comfortable to generally call ourselves Christians, Presbyterians, church members, and such.    There’s nothing at all wrong with this, but I do believe more specific biblical language can help inspire and challenge us to grow in our commitment to Christ.    This is one of the reasons our bulletin says FPC stands for more than just Fairmount Presbyterian Church … it also means we are Faithful People in Christ!                This week, may we also untie any reluctance to be true disciples – to study and to stand with and to be sent out by the One who leads us to bear divine kingdom building witness in this world.      

            By God’s grace, let us untie our way to Easter 2013.   I pray our faith and unity and holy passion will be strengthened through this morning’s worship and fellowship, as well as through our beautifully moving service of Maundy Thursday and Tenebrae.     I pray that as we shout hosannas from our hearts, that God’s way in Jesus Christ our King will indeed be greatly praised – even as it is revealed to be counter to our human expectations, as it convicts our unhealthy human pride, and as it holds our discipleship to account.    Amen.   

 

 

 

Better Off At Home

 

Ps. 32; Luke 15:1-3, 11-32
4^th Sunday in Lent 2013

 

            Well-known Presbyterian pastor and widely-read author Frederick Buechner wrote many wonderfully wise and inspiring words in his 1996 book titled The Longing for Home.  I find one particular paragraph worth quoting as we give some fresh consideration to this morning’s popular parable about the Prodigal Son.  Speaking about the grace of God that enables him to to be like Christ for other people, Buechner writes --

            “I believe that it is when that power is alive in me and through me that I come closest to being truly home, come closest to finding or being found by that holiness that I may have glimpsed in the charity and justice and order and peace of other homes I have known, but that in its fullness was always missing.   I cannot claim that I have found the home I long for every day of my life, not by a long shot, but I believe that in my heart I have found, and have maybe always known, the way that leads to it.   I believe that home is Christ’s kingdom, which exists both within us and among us as we wend our prodigal ways through the world in search of it.”

            Buechner bears a beautiful witness.  It’s a witness to the natural human longing to be at home with the God who wonderfully created us, freely forgives us, and lovingly sustains us. Throughout all of our life experiences, we know that the closer we are to this home, the better off we are.    This inner-pull to holy homecoming is our hearts true hope, security and joy.  

            We profess there will be a day when we faithful will fully cross that blessed threshold, when our sin will be no longer cause us to sadly, stubbornly stand outside the door of the great household of God.    Until then, we can hope as Buechner hopes – that as we “wend our prodigal ways in search of it,” we will trust and look for signs of Christ inhabiting us.  

            The need to return to our true home is certainly the central theme to what is perhaps Jesus’ most famous parable.     And yet, every time I speak about it, you hear me declare that the biggest prodigal in the story is the Father.    Today is no different!   

            The word “prodigal” does on one level mean to be “wastefully extravagant,” which is why it labels the young, inheritance squandering son so well.   But the stronger pulse of this adjective is its definition of to “give profusely, with lavish abundance.”   The father was wastefully extravagant in this sense – not regarding how money was foolishly spent, but regarding how he profusely offered his unconditional love.     

            A fresh realization from my study this week of this timeless teaching tale’s two different but interrelated interpretations of the word prodigal, is that it’s also very much about God’s take on free will, mercy and inclusivity.  

            We all have the power of free will.   We absolutely cherish this freedom to make independent choices.     We don’t even want to try and imagine what life would be like if we didn’t have it, if we had no say about or way to influence what happens in this world.    And the lack of voluntary choice would tragically impact the power of real, mutual love.    

            This free will is part of our spiritual inheritance.      God gifted humankind with it.  In our original good and holy harmonious estate, God did so desiring that we would freely choose to enjoy and take care of one another and all Creation.    But of course God knew the inherent risk of this gift.   And of course we all know terribly well that the first of our kind and every generation since has been bitten by that risk.  We’ve chosen to turn away from the good and holy home of God’s design and turned instead toward going our own way.   We’ve chosen to squander God’s abundantly given, gracious, loving gifts.    We are extravagantly wasteful sons and daughters of God the Father.

            According to Jesus, what is God’s response to this spiritually inherited abuse of free will?    Mercy!    This is what we find in the 20^th verse of Luke 15, which I consider the epicenter of the parable.    The youngest son wasted the father’s extremely lavish gift of his inheritance.   So we tend to first focus on this son’s “coming to himself” and his preparing a speech about how he’d get back in his father’s good graces and his father’s good home by repenting of his sinful ways.   Every one of can relate to doing stupid, sinful stuff in our lives and to eventually embracing the wisdom of realizing what we’ve wasted.    We all have had various prepared speeches and plans for returning home.   

            But the father we find in verse 20 does not consider coming to self a condition for the homecoming.   For sure, it’s important to hold oneself accountable for sin, to repent.  But it is not a free choice that persuades God to forgive us.   Like the wayward child’s father, God sees us turning toward true home and is filled with compassion even while we are still far off.    This is not about God feeling sorry for us, it’s about the faithful fact that God feels mercy for us.    God understands us, accepts us, loves us even when we abuse free will, and so God mercifully embraces us even before we’ve made it home.   

            So don’t fail to notice how the father doesn’t need to hear the well-rehearsed speech, the intentions of which may have been truly repentant or just plain manipulative.   There is no official pardon given, just a really big party.    God’s lavishly given, “prodigal” joy and unconditional welcome is Jesus’ point.  

            At this big party, of course, there was an injured party.   The older brother felt anything but welcome at home.   Renowned preacher Barbara Brown Taylor captures the bent out of shape brother in this way –

            “No one asked him how he felt about spending what was left of his inheritance taking care of three people instead of two, or being known as the prodigal’s brother, or wearing the second best robe, since the best one was already taken.  The elder son is the good son, darn it.  He has done everything right and he isn’t about to sit down at the same table with the self-centered, pig-loving, sin-sick brother who has cost his family so much grief.”[i]

            So what was the father to do?  Let his firstborn isolate and stew in the rot of resentment?   Allow him to stomp off and refuse to participate in the homecoming party?   Bless these actions though they brought about dishonor and division?   What would you have done?

            There is very good reason why Jesus included this older brother in the parable.    This needs to be mentioned in order to understand the prodigal father’s response.   

            Recall who Luke tells us Jesus spoke this holy teaching to -- the tax collectors and sinners as well as the Pharisees and the Scribes.     Of these two groups, who do you believe the oldest son symbolizes?   The Pharisee and Scribes!  The ones who self-righteously believed they’d done everything by the book, according to God’s law, and who stood in protest of the prodigal dinner company Jesus was keeping.      

            Through the parable, Jesus let these older, authoritative sons know that they were fully welcome to participate in his call of homecoming to all God’s children.   This, despite their protest about the new, radically inclusive ways of the holy kingdom he had been demonstrating and had come to fully inaugurate.  This invitation also let them know that God the Father was not okay with division in the faith family.      

            Jesus did not conclude the parable by having the older son say, “Yeah, dad, you’re right, I need to accept that we’re all better off at home with you.”   Things don’t resolve that neatly in this story, nor would things resolve so neatly between the Son, Jesus, and the old-guard Jewish authorities.     Jesus simply has the prodigal father make a very telling point – the firstborn always belongs and always has a share, but the more important matter to rejoice in is the son coming back from the dead.  Indeed, this famous story must be seen through the faithful lens of Easter.  

            As we continue our Lenten journey, take time to acknowledge how you naturally long to be at home with the God who wonderfully created you, freely forgives you, and lovingly sustains you.    Reflect on how well you know that in this world the closer you are to this home, the better off you are.    You and I, well, we’ll continue to “wend our prodigal ways.”  But may we rejoice in knowing that we do so while the inner-pull of holy homecoming continues through God’s extravagant, prodigal grace in Jesus Christ.   Amen.

           

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[i] http://www.barbarabrowntaylor.com/newsletter374062.htm

So That All May Live ...

John 6:1-14, Isaiah 55:1-9

3^rd Sunday in Lent 2013

 

            The early morning news on Friday featured a story about the new documentary movie “A Place at the Table.”  This is a report about hunger in America.   It offers a sobering overview of the 50 million neighbors across our land – 1 in 4 children -- that are not secure in knowing where their next meal is coming from.    It does so through the lens of three different families living in three different cultural contexts.   Through their stories, we learn more about how hunger has serious short and long term economic, social and cultural implications.  

            One contributing factor to hunger that I learned about is called a “food desert.”  This was a reality I was familiar with, but a term I hadn’t heard before.     It refers to locations that have little to no access to large grocery stores offering the fresh, healthy foods needed to maintain a good diet.   Convenience stores service such locations, places that primarily sell inexpensive processed foods.   Such cheap foods cause malnourishment and lead to feelings of constant hunger. 

            One of the featured families in this documentary lives in a Philadelphia “food desert.” This quickly caught my attention, given that the summer months of my youth were spent living close to poverty in the Northeast section of this city.    And I honestly can’t recall ever going to a big grocery store.   I do recall mom and pop shops full of candy, packaged foods, and rather unidentifiable but affordable “fruit punch.”  This was really just sugar water with drops of various food coloring.     I’ve come to understand that the big grocery stores that used to be in urban neighborhoods have largely relocated to the suburbs as the result of urban sprawl.   Left behind are low-income earners and senior citizens unable to afford or to travel to places where truly nourishing foods are available.        

            The low-income Philadelphia mom being featured in the film was well aware of the unhealthy but convenient food options available to her and her children.    She herself had grown up living on Oodles of Noodles and Chef Boyardee.   But rather than just accept this, she routinely chooses to travel to a fully-stocked supermarket for fresh, nutritious foods.  This means a forty-five minute bus trip both ways.    

            Her witness inspired me.  She chose to turn away from convenient but malnourishing things in favor of choosing and seeking out what provides true sustenance.    She seems to understand and faithfully answer the rhetorical question found in Isaiah 55:2 – “Why do you spend money for that which is not bread, and your labor for that which does not satisfy?”

            I think many folks choose convenient but ultimately malnourishing things to satiate not only their physical hunger, but their spiritual hunger as well.   They choose to spend money on and offer labor to false gods or spiritual fast food fads that don’t require a commitment to go the distance needed to maintain a healthy faith journey.    So they find themselves constantly spiritually malnourished, soul-hungry for true spiritual sustenance such as that produced through a strong commitment to biblical spiritual practices and by frequently sharing the fruits of the Holy Spirit in faith community.  

            Many churches try to respond to this plight.   For instance, the church I learned about recently that offered a drive-through Ash Wednesday service.  I appreciate this witness, its attempt to offer a sacred tradition to a culture that craves convenience.    But it gets me wondering if picking up some ashes and a printed prayer to take home actually leads to making consistent, spiritually nourishing faith choices and to a positively changed way of life.

            The theme of choice about where to turn to for truly sustaining provision is central to today’s beautiful passage from Isaiah.    Using the imagery of a great banquet, this is a compelling invitation to feast on the sustaining life-instruction God alone provides.    Making the decision to listen to God leads to forsaking sin and its entire convenient but ultimately spiritually malnourishing ways.   It leads to the good, abundantly loving life God has always intended so that all may truly live.

            This invitation to homecoming was originally offered by the great prophet to the 6^th century Israelites living in Babylonian exile.    It was a call for them to “uproot themselves, move to a land their generation never knew, and reclaim their ancestral home.”[i]    It was a summons to leave a way of life where they had to unjustly pay for the basic necessities due to the commodification schemes of their foreign rulers.    This announcement was probably “both a challenging hope and cruel absurdity” to them … for some would have been thrilled to hear that God had not forgotten the 500 year old covenant with King David, while others would have heard Isaiah’s words “as foolish and empty promises.”[ii]     To those doubting and to the those trusting, Isaiah offered the reminder that they all needed to faithfully believe big and beyond their oppressive, hungering circumstances – for God’s thoughts and ways are higher than everything they knew.   

            Perhaps we Christians can relate to this best when we recall how Jesus addressed Philip’s question, “Where are we to buy bread for these people to eat?” by turning just five barley loaves and two fish into a holy feast for five thousand people.   I believe that when Jesus said, “Gather up the fragments left over, so that nothing may be lost,” he may have also been pointing back to the time when the Israelites felt they were just leftover, lost fragments in a foreign land.   

            The truly nourishing impact of Isaiah’s message is described well by Louisville Seminary professor Patricia Tull -- “Though a real event in an earthly world, the Babylonian exile of the Jews was portrayed in Scripture with such moving imagination that later readers saw in it much more than history. Poetry eloquently describing a pragmatic return from exile in spiritual terms soon came to be read as describing the spiritual journey of every believer from our various alienations to our home in God.”

            May we all come to be inspired to make practical decisions that lead us away from convenient false gods and from everything alienating us from the life God intends us to have.    God intends us to know God’s abundant, merciful, forgiving, liberating and empowering love for us in Jesus Christ.  God intends for us to have good health and wholeness in mind, body and spirit.   God intends for us to come home to holy care when we’ve been spiritually sick.   

            When we faithfully accept all this as true, we come to the waters of our baptism, we come to know that we are pardoned from ever having made spiritually malnourishing choices, and  we come to know that we are empowered to offer a far-reaching witness to God’s love and mercy and glory.   This witness feeds both the physically and spiritually hungry.     “What would happen,” asks Professor Tull, “if we take seriously the graceful cornucopia of this passage, offering nutritional gifts not just for ourselves, but for all for whom God cares?”  What a great question to feast on during this season of Lent!  Amen.   

           

           

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[i] http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching_print.aspx?commentary_id=1564

[ii] http://www.patheos.com/Progressive-Christian/Gospel-Isaiah-John-Holbert-02-25-2013.html