Palm Sunday, 2021 - Jesus's Palm Sunday Sermon

 Having been created in the image of God (Genesis 1:26), we humans have been entrusted with the gift of power. This gift is coupled with the intellectual capacity to imagine what might be, plan how to make it possible, design the details of the plan, and use our power to implement the plan to bring what we imagined into reality. This ability to use power to create is an expression of the divine spark that was implanted in us. 

This gift raises a central question: how do we choose to use this power that has been entrusted to us? How we use our power was the theme of Jesus's Palm Sunday sermon. 

Jesus's royal entry into Jerusalem that Sunday before Passover (we like to call it Triumphant Entry - which says something about us and how we view power) was a sermon. Jesus followed Jeremiah and Ezekiel in acting out a sermon to proclaim a truth the people could not and did not want to hear. He acted out at least three sermons that week: the entry into Jerusalem, the cleansing of the Temple, the reinterpretation of the Passover meal. The theme of each of these three sermons was the same: how do we choose to use the power that has been entrusted to us? 

Jesus planned his entry into Jerusalem, including prearranging for the donkey on which to ride and the password that would give his disciples access to it. He factored in the excited expectations of the crowd - and they did not disappoint. 

The Passover was a celebration of the LORD's deliverance of the descendants of Israel (Jacob) from slavery in Egypt. God's deliverance and the covenant that grew out of it gave birth to the nation. These two factors were foundational to their identity. This annual celebration stirred the deep desire for God to act again ... to deliver them again ... to set them free again ... this time, from the power of Rome. Their religiously fed patriotic desires were so inflamed during Passover that the Romans had built an army garrison adjacent to the Temple compound so their soldiers could immediately respond to any rebellious demonstration before it got out of hand.  

The crowd that accompanied Jesus from Galilee - including his disciples, especially his disciples - carried those desires for God to act again to set them free. But their desires were fed by the expectations that Jesus was the Messiah. They had seen him use his power to heal. He had fed 5,000 of them in the wilderness as Moses had fed the people with manna from heaven. (A popular belief was the Messiah would feed the people with manna from heaven the way Moses had.) They believed him to be the Messiah who would throw off the hated yoke of Rome and set them free.  

The crowd's desires for freedom, fed by their expectations that Jesus was the Messiah who would set them free, were expressed in their actions. As Jesus rode the donkey down the Mt. of Olives toward the Eastern Gate of Jerusalem, they spread palm branches and their cloaks on the path before him. They gave him the red carpet treatment. They waved the palm branches - a symbol of the nation - in the air just as we wave the American flag on 4th of July parades. And they sang songs that about the messiah, crying "Save us!" (Hosanna!). 

Without a doubt, this entry was a political demonstration. It was a parade honoring their king. And that's how the Pharisees understood it. They urged Jesus to restrain his followers lest they draw the attention of the Romans, bringing out the Roman army to squelch the demonstration and disperse the crowd. The Pharisees feared a bloodbath. 

Jesus designed all of this. One other thing Jesus designed: the timing of his entry. The timing was a crucial part of his acted-out sermon.

History tells us that each year, the Sunday before Passover, the Roman procurator Pontius Pilate would lead a legion of Roman soldiers from their post in Caesarea on the Mediterranean coast to Jerusalem. This detail would serve as reinforcements for the garrison adjacent to the Temple complex during this volatile religious celebration. Pilate led the soldiers into Jerusalem through the Western gate. Their entry was designed to communicate a message. Pilate rode a war horse. The soldiers were dressed in full battle gear. The message was clear: we will deal swiftly and decisively with any who dare oppose us. 

While Pilate was leading the military parade through the western gate of the city, Jesus was leading his parade through the Eastern Gate ... riding a donkey.

The donkey was a part of Jesus's sermon. Whenever a king went into battle, he rode a white stallion as his war horse. The stallion symbolized power used to dominate and destroy. Whenever a king visited his people in his country, he rode a donkey, symbolizing that he came in peace. Jesus rode a donkey into Jerusalem, symbolizing peace. The donkey was also a beast of burden - an animal used in service. 

The contrast between the two parades was the heart of Jesus's acted-out sermon. He was presenting a contrast in how power is used.

Pilate's military paraded represented the use of power over, down against another for personal benefit. Power was used to control the other, keeping them in their place. Power was used to dominate the other and, if necessary, to destroy them. This way of using power was the way of Rome. But it was not just the way of Rome. It was the way of Herod the king who represented Rome. And it was the way of the Jewish Sanhedrin - the religious leaders of Israel. They used their positions of authority to take advantage of the people, getting rich off of them. (Jesus confronted this abuse of power in the cleansing of the Temple and in taking control of the Temple compound during the week of Passover.) And it was the way of the crowd that accompanied Jesus into Jerusalem, including the disciples. They expected Jesus to use his power to defeat Rome, setting them free. Power over, down against the other for personal benefit is the way of the world ... even today. It is the way inherent to our human condition. It is how we naturally use our power - in self-serving ways, at the expense of others. 

Jesus's parade spoke of a different way of using power. He presented God's way of using power. Jesus lived out the way God uses power. Jesus used his power to serve. We see this way of using power most clearly in his healing miracles in which he addressed the physical needs of others. The way Jesus used power was governed by a servant spirit. The servant use of power is power used alongside another, on behalf of the other, for the other's benefit, often at great cost to oneself. It is the way power is used in the Kingdom. 

In Jesus's acted out sermon entering Jerusalem, Jesus called the nation to choose between these two options. One option would lead to death; the other, to peace. Would they continue to follow the way of the world, using power over, down against others in an effort to dominate them for their own personal advantage? Or, would they embrace the servant ways of God that led to peace?

Our annual celebration of Palm Sunday confronts us each year with this same question: how will we choose to use the power God has entrusted to us? 

Jesus's question calls for a conscious choice. The fact that we refer to Jesus's entry into Jerusalem as his Triumphant Entry might tell us how we are inclined to answer his question. 

"You know that among the Gentiles those whom they recognize as their rulers lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. But it is not so among you; but whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all. For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many" (Mark 10:42-45). 

5th Sunday of Lent, 2021 - Hope: Living in Anticipation of Resurrection

It is a sobering sight - something more suited to a horror movie than to scripture. But there it is in scripture - Ezekiel's vision of a valley filled with dry bones (Ezekiel 37:1-14). His vision is of a battlefield, long after the battle was done. No one had come to claim the victims or remove the corpses from the land. The bodies had been left where they fell, food for the scavenger birds and animals. The fallen corpses had been picked clean of any flesh. All that was left were bones, bleached by the baking sun. 

The scene - the aftermath of war - spoke of death and destruction. It bore testimony to an undeniable, inescapable harsh reality. It reeked with hopelessness. 

Ezekiel's sermon was addressed to the Hebrew people living as refugees in exile in Babylon. All that gave meaning and brought joy to their lives had been taken from them. Their nation had been destroyed by the armies of Babylon. Their beloved Davidic-based monarchy had come to an end. The Temple - the dwelling place of God on earth, the primary place of their worship - had been destroyed, torn down and burned to the ground. They had been carried away to a foreign land, leaving home and land, heritage and history behind. The covenant that had given them identity for centuries was seemingly forgotten. The steadfast love of the LORD upon which the covenant was based had seemingly finally faltered. They felt abandoned by God, forgotten. They lived in the despair of hopelessness. They lived - if it could be called living - in the shadow of death. They were defeated, both by the armies of Babylon and by their inescapable, hopeless situation. 

In the midst of their hopelessness, Ezekiel spoke of hope. In the face of death, Ezekiel spoke of new life - yea, of resurrection. In the aftermath of destruction, Ezekiel spoke of renewal. To a people who felt abandoned and forgotten by God, Ezekiel spoke of what God would yet do.

Ezekiel, refusing to believe the steadfast love of God had faltered, envisioned the Spirit of God moving in the midst of their hopeless, irreversible situation. The dried bones, baked by the sun, would come together again to form skeletons; flesh would be restored to them; breath would be breathed back into them so that they came alive again. Ezekiel knew their situation was not beyond the redemptive, life-giving power of God. God was not through working. The Spirit was breathing life into their lifeless situation. 

Life is full of experiences that leave us feeling overwhelmed, powerless, defeated, hopeless. In the midst of such experiences, we often feel abandoned by God, forgotten. We struggle to believe, surrendering to the despair which haunts our thoughts. Hope is beyond our grasp.

But even as we struggle, the LORD continues to be faithful. The Spirit continues to work. 

God is not through working. And God - not the harshness of life, not destruction and devastation, not sin and death - will have the last word. That last word is life. That word is resurrection.

The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases, his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning, great is your faithfulness. "The LORD is my portion," says my soul, "therefore I will hope in him" (Lamentations 3:22-24).

May the God of hope fill you will all joy and peace in believing, so that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit (Romans 15:13). 

4th Sunday of Lent, 2021 - But God

 But God ... 

Therein is the gospel in non-gospel language. But God ...

Ephesians 2:1-10 - the reading from the epistles for this 4th Sunday of Lent - begins with a dire description of our human condition. We all - Gentiles (vs.1-2, you) and Jews (vs. 3, all of us) - were dead spiritually because of our sins. We had no spiritual life even though we were overly religious. Although we were created for relationship with God, we did not know God. We had no awareness of God. Although we were created for God's life, we did not know the ways of God. We had no ability to love as God loves. Instead, we followed the anxiety-driven ways of the world - "following the course of this world" (vs. 2). We lived out of a defiant, self-reliant, self-serving spirit that rejected God and the truth of God - "following the ruler of the power of the air" (vs. 2). Believing we were better than others, we were no different than anyone else. All of us looked out for 'ole #1 - "the spirit that is now at work among those who are disobedient" (vs. 2). We pursued our need to feel safe, to be accepted and have a place to belong, to feel capable and adequate, to be loved and valued - "in the passions of our flesh" (vs. 3). We were driven by a deep fear that, deep down beneath the facade we presented to the world, we were inadequate ... we were no good ... we were unlovable and would be rejected and left out ... we would be hurt. We gave our energies to achieving and succeeding and acquiring in a vain attempt to prove - to ourselves and to others - that we were not what we were afraid we were. Our inability to escape this deep sense of personal shame is seen in how we criticize and find fault with others. Judging others allows us to avoid seeing our own failures by making us to feel superior to those we judge. We indulged our physical desires believing they would fill the void deep within - "following the desires of the flesh and senses" (vs. 3). We filled our lives with the pursuit of pleasure and entertainment in a desperate attempt to find a sense of fulfillment. In order to feel safe, we tried to control others. In an effort to reduce our sense of dis-ease, we created stability based on predictability. 

The result of this way of living was we missed God and the richness of God's way of life. We were stuck with the empty bankruptcy of what we chose - "children of wrath" (vs. 3). (Being "children of wrath" does not mean we were the targets of God's anger. It means God gave us what we chose.) We were spiritually dead, unable to recognize the deadly spiral in which we lived, much less escape it.

But God ... 

God did for us what we did not know to do for ourselves. God did for us what we could not do for ourselves. God made us alive with Christ (vs. 5) ... raised us up with Christ (vs. 6) ... and seated us in the heavenly places with Christ (vs. 6). God not only saved us from the life of death in which we were trapped (vs. 8), God also recreated us (vs. 10), restoring our ability to experience God's kind of life so that we can love as Jesus loved - "created in Christ Jesus for good works" (vs. 10). 

What God did for us - made us alive, raised us up, seated us with Christ, saved us, recreated us - was because of who God is. It was because God is rich in mercy (vs. 4). It was because God loves us with a great love (vs. 4). The Hebrew Scriptures referred to this great love as the steadfast, faithful love of God (chesed - Psalm 107:1). It is a love that never waivers or falters. It is a love that never gives up on us or abandons us. It is a love that keeps on loving even when we refuse it and abuse it. It is a love that keeps on working to rescue us from ourselves and our self-destructive choices. It is a love that keeps on calling us to and leading us into Christ-like spiritual maturity. It is a love that will not stop until we experience for ourselves the richness of life that is found in loving as Jesus loved. It is love given freely and lavishly as a gift (vs. 8). The New Testament word for such love is grace (vs. 5, 8). 

But God ... 

Our response to such love is faith. Our response is to open our lives to such love. Our response is to embrace this gift of love, claiming it as our own. Our response is to open our hearts and minds to the healing, transforming work of such love. Our response is to rest in such love. Our response is to open ourselves to the One who loves us with such great love. 

And ... our response will lead us to love others as God loved us. As we grow in this love, the Spirit empowers us to love as Jesus loved and to love who Jesus loved. Such is the good works for which we were created (vs. 10). Loving as Jesus loved, we live as God's partners in God's eternal, redemptive venture (Ephesians 1:10, 3:10). We move beyond the us-them thinking of the world to live in unity (Ephesians 2:11-22; 4:1-6) as the new temple of God on earth (Ephesians 2:19-22). 

But God ... 

As we walk this leg of the Lenten journey, consider "But God ..." Name what God has done in your own life because of such great love. "Let the redeemed of the LORD say so" (Psalm 107:1). Identify what God is doing in you during this season. Seek what God wants to do through you. 

"O give thanks to the LORD; for he is good; his steadfast love endures forever" (Psalm 107:1). 

Thanks be to God! 

3rd Sunday of Lent, 2021 - Authentic Spirituality

It's an age-old issue that, seemingly, each generation and each individual has to resolve. It seems to me some never resolve it and, thus, get stuck. 

Today's lectionary readings for the 3rd Sunday of Lent raise the issue once again, inviting us to work through the issue in our own minds. It is a valid exercise for the Lenten journey.  

The issue is the role of the law in the spiritual life.  

The Old Testament reading is Exodus 20:1-17, what is commonly called the Ten Commandments. Many like to proclaim they live by them as the gold standard for behavior. Such "boasting" fails to understand the commandments. 

The commandments were given to the people of Israel after generations as slaves in Egypt. The were foundational guidelines for how to live together in covenant community. They were a starting place, not the end goal. They dealt with behavior - specifically, what not to do. Eight of the ten are stated negatively - you shall not. Don't do this. 

We would do well to follow Jesus in our view of the Ten Commandments. In his interaction with one we call the rich young ruler, we see that one can keep the commandments and still be lacking (Mark 10:17-22). In other words, the commandments are not the final objective. Keeping them will not bring a sense of inner wholeness. In his Sermon on the Mount, Jesus specifically referenced these commandments when he said, "You have heard it said ... but I say to you" (Matthew 5:21, 27, 31, 33, 38, 43). His teaching pushed beyond a focus on behavior to the principle upon which the commandment was built. He taught we could keep the commandment (behavior) and yet violate the principle. Our attitude about and toward another, for example, could be a form of murder. Jesus identified a single law that displaced the law of Moses: love God by loving neighbor (Matthew 22:34-40). At its core, the law is not about behavior. It is about how we live in relationship with others. Which means, it is about what is in our hearts.

Paul taught the law was for the early stages of our spiritual development. It was like a disciplinarian teaching us something more than behavior (Galatians 3:19-29). It's purpose was to move us beyond a focus on behavior to the inner condition of our hearts. It was to help us recognize Sin (with a capital S). Sin (with a capital S) is the heart (pardon the pun) of the problem. Our sins (little s, plural - behavior) are the result of Sin. They are the symptoms of an underlying disease, Sin. They are the fruit; Sin is the root. Paul said the law helps us recognize we are slaves to Sin. The law with its regulations about behavior was designed to teach us about Sin, that is, the condition of our hearts (Romans 7:7-25). 

The psalmist seemed to have understood this role of the law, as well. Psalm 19 celebrates the law by piling up statements that proclaim its benefits (Psalm 19:7-11). They seemingly have no down side: "who can detect their errors?" (Psalm 19:12a). But then the psalmist voiced a simple prayer that is easily overlooked: "Clear me from hidden faults" (Psalm 19:12b). Hidden faults - those things I do not see - those things about myself that I don't want to see - those things that are in my heart - those inner attitudes and spirit by which I murder another without ever taking their physical life. 

The psalm ends with the prayer that is often parroted by preachers as they stand to preach: "Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable to you, O LORD, my rock and my redeemer" (Psalm 19:14). There it is again - the meditation of my heart! What's on the inside. 

The spiritual life is about what's on the inside - the transformation of the heart. And only the Spirit can transform the heart (Romans 8:1-17). 

We church people are prone to laws. We frequently deal in standards of right and wrong, what is acceptable versus what is not. In doing so, we think we are being spiritual, but, in reality, we are avoiding authentic spirituality. Focusing on law keeps our focus on behavior - externals. Authentic spirituality is about the transformation of the heart - the internal. 

We like law, rules, standards, morals. We use them to measure ourselves and how we are doing. We use them to judge others and how they fail to measure up. Our focus on laws and rules feeds our sense of being O.K. by letting us feel we are better than those who fail to measure up. We like law, rules, standards, and morals because they focus on behavior - what we do. We have the power to change our behavior. We can stop doing something that is considered wrong or start doing something that is considered right. Focusing on behavior keeps us in control. Focusing on behavior helps us avoid looking at what is in our hearts. It keeps us from seeing what we don't want to see about ourselves. 

Law, rules, standards, and morals are dimensions of merit-based thinking. They appeal to self-reliance and self-effort. They are the life-blood of the ego-based self. (See again last week's blog: 2nd Sunday of Lent, 2021 - Dying to Self - February 28, 2021.) 

Law, rules, standards, and morals are not the way of grace or faith. As long as we build our religious life around law, rules, standards, and morals, we seek to earn God's favor by measuring up to the demands of the law. We live out of a deserving-mentality. We have not discovered the path of authentic spirituality - the way of grace that leads to the transformation of the heart. At best, we are stuck in an early stage of spiritual development in which we are blind to ourselves - self-deceived. We live out of a religious ego-based identity constructed by conforming to the law, rules, standards, and morals of our religious group. 

Some kind of failure - or repeated failure - is needed to move us beyond our focus on externals. The pain of trying and failing leads us to ask, "What is wrong with me? Why can't I do this?" Such questions position us to see what is in our hearts. There, dealing honestly with what is in our hearts, we encounter God. There, we discover we are accepted just as we are. There, we learn we are freely forgiven. There, we experience love that is unconditional. There, we discover grace. 

We church people like to sing and talk about grace, yet we often live out of the law. As we walk this Lenten journey, perhaps we would do well to join the psalmist in praying: "clear me from hidden faults." 

As we walk this Lenten journey, may the Spirit who transforms our hearts and minds help us see those things about ourselves that we don't want to see so that we might experience the grace that produces authentic spirituality.