Who is this?

 

On this Palm Sunday and throughout this week may we wonder who Jesus is as we wander to the Cross.

The Liturgy of the Palms

 Matthew 21:1-11

The Liturgy of the Word

Isaiah 50:4-9a

Psalm 31:9-16

Philippians 2:5-11

Matthew 26:14- 27:66

Holy God, let my words be your words and when my words are not your words, let your people be wise enough to know the same. Amen.

“When [Jesus] entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil, asking, ‘Who is this?’”

On a day long ago, the entire Holy City asked, “Who is this?” As Jerusalem experienced the unsettled turbulence, the fever pitch, the near riots, they collectively yearned to know who this Jesus was. By my count, today’s service features about 65 different answers for this question through various descriptors of Jesus—from grand titles like “Son of Man” or “King of Israel” to expressive phrases like “self-emptying one” or “oh, most afflicted.” Back on the first Palm Sunday, the crowds ran ahead of Jesus cutting down branches and throwing down garments, as they had their own answer for Jerusalem’s question, shouting, “Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!” and “This is the prophet Jesus from Nazareth in Galilee.” (italics added for emphasis)

Surely the disciples were among the crowds. They had professed already who this was. “The Messiah, the Son of the Living God,” attested their spokesperson Peter. Later in this week, though these same followers would answer the question about Jesus’ identity differently.

Judas full of greed and disappointment betrayed his teacher with a kiss, only to later experience the kiss of death as the aftermath of his guilt and shame. Peter after Jesus foretold of the disciples’ threefold denial replied, “Even though I must die with you, I will not deny you.” The other disciples chimed in likewise, but a cockcrow would be the alarm that awakened them from their denial! In the garden Peter, James, and John (the ultra-disciples) could not keep watch with Jesus falling asleep instead. When those with swords and clubs arrived to arrest Jesus, one disciple seethed with rage such that he turned to aggression with a blade.

The disciples’ replies to the question, “Who is this?” were not to hold up Jesus as “the Messiah, the Son of the Living God,” nor as a Prophet, nor even as their rabbi. Instead, through betrayal, denial, unconsciousness, and violence they let their words and actions speak disbelief, fear, and faithlessness.

The danger with pointing out the disciples’ sin-soaked responses comes when I try to wash my own hands of Jesus’ death, like Pilate did. I claim that it was the disciples’ missteps and inaction, not mine. I likewise blame it upon religion and politics, the Jewish or the Roman people, not me. I so easily slide into the crowd to run from my own part in the story—how I might answer the question. And yet, even there hiding in the masses, I discover that out of one side of my mouth I call Jesus: Savior, King, Prince of Life, beloved, friend; then out of the other: slave, imposter, accused. Worst of all is the cry ringing out of my mouth for Jesus to be crucified. “Let him be crucified!”

Over and over again, I crucify Christ, we crucify Christ—not only in ancient Jerusalem, but throughout the ages in the deaths of martyrs and innocents, and in our day, at Columbine or Covenant, at Emmanuel AME Church in Charleston or at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church in Vestavia Hills. It would be easier for us, for me to just look away!

This is the danger: to sit back comfortably and wait for a week to pass, so that I may drop in wearing my Easter best to sing my favorite hymns and never acknowledge my part in the story, my part in Jesus’ betrayal, Passion, and death—my part in the crucifixion of Christ.

What if you and I did not know how this story will end? What if we were to watch with the crowds, the disciples, and Pilate? Better still, what if we were to walk with the women—Mary Magdalene, the other Mary, and the mother of the sons of Zebedee—to see how this story unfolds? What if we wondered anew, “Who is this?”

This week suspend what you think you know. Look past the answers that the disciples, religion, politics, or others tell you about who Jesus is. Instead, walk the way of Holy Week, and ponder, “Who is this?”

 

The Impossible Journey

Jesus sent his disciples out like sheep among wolves

© Seth Olson 2020
June 15, 2020—Second Sunday after Pentecost
Exodus 19:2-8a 

Psalm 100 

Romans 5:1-8 

Matthew 9:35-10:8(9-23)

View today’s sermon by clicking here (sermon begins at 16:05).

O God, let my words be your words, and when my words are not your words, let your people be cunning enough to know the same. Amen.


I love going on trips. I imagine I am not alone in loving to travel—you too may love leaving home for a few days. These months of the Coronavirus Pandemic have meant less travel throughout the world. It’s been awhile since I packed up a suitcase and prepared to go somewhere. But, whenever I have taken a journey in the past I have relished the opportunity not only to take a trip but also to get ready for that trip. Regardless of whether the journey is business or pleasure, I tend to live by the Scouts’ motto: “Be prepared”—I am an over-packer. In today’s Gospel lesson, Jesus was sending out his disciples on a business trip, but unlike a good scout the disciples were told to take nothing with them. Why?

Now sometimes in Gospel stories we find that Jesus does not provide us with particularly practical advice. Letting weeds grow up next to wheat, not building bigger facilities to house excess grain, or leaving 99 sheep to find a lost one—none of these morals are real-world instructions. For Jesus was not focused on what seemed wise according to the world, but instead he offered heaven-wise suggestions that would reveal God’s reign here on earth. So, what can we learn about God’s reign from the following packing list?

Take:
-No money
-No bag
-No extra clothes
-No backup shoes
-No staff for support or security

What does this tell us? If Jesus was not living by the Scouts’ motto and was not focused on doling out practical advice, what did these instructions have to do with God’s reign? As we ponder what Jesus was asking his disciples to do, it might be helpful to take a look at who he was sending out in the first place.

In today’s Gospel lesson we hear the word apostles, for the only time throughout Matthew’s Gospel account. Apostles means ones who are sent. The list of ones being sent out to proclaim the good news starts with Peter, the de facto leader, who would deny Jesus thrice, and it ends with Judas whose very name is synonymous with betrayal—I mean how many people named Judas do you know? These bookends tell us something. Plus, there is a set of brothers who bicker over who is better, Thomas whose very name is connected to doubting, Matthew, who was a symbol of oppression by the Roman occupiers, as he was a tax collector, and Simon the Canananean who was a radical anti-Roman zealot. This was not prudent, Jesus.

Jesus called weak leaders, traitorous weaklings, squabbling siblings, doubters, and clashing hotheads into his inner circle. Why not hire away the best marketer from the Roman Empire? Weren’t there some excellent preachers Jesus could have recruited from Jerusalem? This group of apostles was not the All-Star squad God incarnate should have put together to change the world. And on top of this, Jesus did not even give these ones he was sending the proper tools to succeed. How were they to complete their mission without the winning wardrobe or cash to buy a decent meal? Which gets us back to our earlier question: what did Jesus’ instructions to this rag-tag crew have to do with God’s reign?

Jesus called together a lackluster group of flawed human beings, then gave them a seemingly faulty set of instructions for entering their first mission as his disciples, and yet, as a result of them trusting Jesus, they helped spark a worldwide movement that is still going to this day. The disciples witness to us that when we have faith in God what is possible expands. God is calling us to readjust our perspective, our goals, and our view of what leads to success. We are to see on earth as it is in heaven.

If God can transform this motley group of disciples into the foundation of the Church, then what does this say to us as we face myriad obstacles? What does this story tell us as we confront the challenges of a global pandemic, a long overdue reckoning around racial injustice, a continuing environmental crisis, a financial recession, and the difficulty of saying goodbye to our beloved long-time rector who will soon be the 12th Bishop of Alabama? Can we overcome all of these challenges? Later in Matthew’s Gospel account Jesus will give us an answer, “For mortals it is impossible, but with God all things are possible.”[1]

With God all things are possible, but to realize this the disciples had to stop relying upon their own gifts and merits. The mission of those twelve was to proclaim good news, that the kingdom of heaven—God’s reign had come near. They were to be an extension of Jesus’ own ministry by curing the sick, raising the dead, cleansing lepers, and casting out demons. As if this does not sound difficult enough, Jesus used a metaphor to describe their mission: “I am sending you out like sheep into the midst of wolves.” There were beatings, court proceedings, and households divided. In the midst of this, the apostles were not to have prepared stump speeches, rather they were to rely upon God’s Spirit speaking through them. They were to trust that with God all things are possible.

I have a lot of J tendencies on the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator, which means I like to plan things out. I have to put “be spontaneous” onto my calendar for it to happen. Relying on the Spirit, especially relinquishing control in the moment sounds foolish at best—until I start to look back at heroes in our Faith. Moses relied on God to speak through him when facing Pharaoh and freeing God’s people from slavery.[2] The Apostles trusted God, as filled with the Holy Spirit after Pentecost they took Christ’s message to all parts of the known world.[3] During the Reformation leaders across Europe led by the Spirit decentralized the power of the Church, so that all could experience the grace of God.[4] Women like Hildegard, Theresa of Avila, and Julian of Norwich, were so far ahead of their time that we are still unpacking their Spirit-drenched, mystical works. The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. trusted the Spirit too. He was going to end his speech during the March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom without telling the world about his dream until the Spirit spoke through Mahalia Jackson who pleaded, “Tell ‘em about the dream, Martin.”[5] We have to trust God, but that’s not easy.

It’s easy to look at the challenges we face today and to envision them as waves as tall as the Empire State Building ready to crash over us—on our own these are impossible to confront, but we are not alone. In all the challenges and changes we are facing today God is with us, but God calls us to trust. This means that we have to let go of the manifold items that might make us feel safe. We are not going to make it if we keep gripping ever-more-tightly to that which makes us feel secure and comfortable. How can we take hold of God’s hand if we are clinging to something else? Like those disciples who went out without anything, so they could trust God in everything, we must relinquish our own baggage too. And much of what we must put down is not items that will fit in a suitcase.

We must put down our institutional sexism, our systemic racism, our transphobia, and homophobia; our cynicism and self-righteousness; our overindulgent love of material goods; our lust for people, things, and experiences; our judgment of people because of their height, weight, age, income, or intellectual ability; our disregard for God’s Creation and those who come after us; our intractable political differences and perceived superiority because of our affiliations; our distrust of people who pray, vote, think, act, or live differently than we do. These items do not belong in our suitcases.

When we no longer rely on these proverbial security blankets, when diminish our reliance upon feeding our own egos, when we do not bring all the stuff that falsely causes us to believe we are superior to our neighbors, then we start to see our neighbor not as someone disconnected from us, but as one who is made in the image of God, just like us. And the only way we are going to confront the challenges of our day is united together with our neighbors. To love our neighbor as ourselves we first must put down all the luggage that causes us to think that we are somehow better than them. But, how?

We must start in prayer, as we move from the center of our own lives—that is we must contemplate the ultimate truth that God is God and we are not. We are made in God’s image, but are not God. Thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory—not mine.

Next, we must consciously take stock in our lives recognizing the excess baggage that we carry around with us. This takes introspection. It requires us to not only get out of our echo chambers, but to read, watch, and listen to authors, filmmakers, musicians, and thinkers that may make us uncomfortable with the way we have individually and collectively lived our lives.[6]

Then, we must repent or turn back to God and away from the thoughts, actions, and behaviors that have intentionally or unintentionally put us into positions of power or superiority over our neighbors. If we truly want to fulfill the mission of the Church—to restore all people to unity with God and each other in Christ[7]—then we must first unpack this baggage before we can proceed farther on this journey.

We are all called to come on a journey with Jesus. Alone it is an impossible trip, but we are not alone. On this way God calls us to let go of the baggage, which makes us believe we are better, superior, or independent from one another. On this impossible journey we are called to rely not on ourselves but on God who is three-in-one—perpetual, united diversity. We are going on an impossible journey, but with God all things are possible.


[1] See Matthew 19:26.
[2] See Exodus 4.
[3] See Acts starting in Chapter 2.
[4] Martin Luther, Thomas Cranmer, John Calvin, and others brought Scripture, Liturgy, and Theology to people in their own language.
[5] Gary Younge. “Martin Luther King: the story behind his 'I have a dream' speech.” The Guardian. [Written Aug. 09, 2013; Accessed June 14, 2020: https://www.theguardian.com/world/2013/aug/09/martin-luther-king-dream-speech-history].
[6] There are so many people and works from whom we as white people must learn, so that we may become allies to our fellow children of God who are people of color, but as pertains to learning about systemic racism I recommend starting here: https://www.npr.org/sections/codeswitch/2020/06/06/871023438/this-list-of-books-films-and-podcasts-about-racism-is-a-start-not-a-panacea.
[7] An Outline of the Faith: Commonly called the Catechsim. Book of Common Prayer, 855.

Friends for the Journey

We all need friends to help us read the map of our Faith journey.

This sermon was preached on October 31, 2018 during the transferred Feast of Saint Simon and Saint Jude. The readings that inspired the sermon were the following:

Deuteronomy 32:1-4

Ephesians 2:13-22

John 15:17-27

Psalm 119:89-96

“When the Advocate comes, whom I will send to you from the Father, the Spirit of truth who comes from the Father, he will testify on my behalf. You also are to testify because you have been with me from the beginning.” These words ended today’s Gospel lesson. In the Episcopal Church we do not often speak of testifying or that dirty word “evangelizing.” And yet, Christ foretells not just for his disciples, but for all his people that we are to share His Good News, even to the ends of the earth. So, how do we do this? I’ll tell you how… WITH FRIENDS! More on these friends in just a moment.

As a kid, I often heard stories at home and at Camp Winnataska about King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table. I loved these stories of bravery, perseverance, chivalry, and seeking Christ—and His Holy Grail. You know, the Grail is the chalice that Jesus and His disciples drank from at the Last Supper? Legend tells us that Joseph of Arimathea caught some of Jesus’ blood in that cup and it became forever sanctified. Allegedly it even helped Joseph survive for decades in prison even without food. At some point the Chalice was lost and King Arthur sent his Knights on a quest to find the Grail. This is where the going with friends comes into play.

Two of my favorite characters in the Arthurian Legend are Sir Bors and Sir Percival. They were the best of friends—they fought together, prayed together, and sought the Grail together. Even when Percival died, Bors struggled to continue and it was only the search of Christ’s Cup that spurred him to keep going. Hearing of their sort of Christ-focused friendship inspired me as a youth to seek that sort of friendship in my own life. And, as an adult I have found other examples of Christian friendship, like in our saints for today.

Saints Simon and Jude were disciples of Our Lord. Upon Christ’s death they were terrified, but through the power of the Resurrection and the imparting of God’s Spirit they shared Jesus’ Good News all the way to Persia (over 1,000 miles away). They supposedly did this work together. They preached together. They traveled together. They even died together as martyrs in the young Church. Throughout the New Testament Scriptures describing the Early Church we hear of saints like Paul and Timothy as well as Peter and John working together for Christ. And, these ones would not have been emboldened to do God’s work of sharing the grace of Christ with others without each other. Yes, this was true then, but it is also true now.

Today more than ever we need one another. In a book called Christians Among the Virtues Stanley Hauerwas and Charles Pinches speak of the friendship required for our life-long journey. For us to grow to trust God more fully we need friends who will walk with us, friends who have walked before us, and friends who will walk after us. This is to say that in this journey with Jesus we need companions and contemporaries who will be the Simon to our Jude. We also need those who have journeyed before us and who know how to read the map so to speak. Finally we need to pass along our wisdom with those who will walk the journey with Jesus after us. So how do we find these fellow travelers?

Well, you who are sitting here in Church are already surrounded by some fellow wanderers. Still there are more ways to find other pilgrims. One way to sprout new spiritual friendships is through the Cursillo Movement—can you tell I just came off that mountaintop experience myself? I’d love to talk more with you about that. Or, about Spiritual Direction if you want another perspective on reading the map for your journey of faith. Another way to make new spiritual friendships is by coming to Bible Studies, Sunday School classes, or other Christian Formation opportunities here at St. John’s. There are retreats at Camp McDowell, in Sewanee, and in Cullman. Also, you might want to share wisdom you have with others by teaching a class—Harry Moore would love more Christian Formation volunteers. Or, you could serve with our Children’s or Youth Ministries or at Banks-Caddell. The ways to be friends with saints around us is innumerable.

We all need a Bors to our Percival, a Jude to our Simon. Each of us needs spiritual friends that connect us both to older and younger generations. We all need companions for our lives of faith. Who are your friends for the journey with Jesus?