Palm Sunday

Mark 11:1-11

Sometimes, this day takes on two purposes, and after the blessing of the palms, we include the reading of the passion, the events that will happen later in Holy Week. On this Palm Sunday though, we are only going to hear Mark’s account of Jesus entering Jerusalem.

Often on Palm Sunday we have processed from the fellowship hall, around the church building and into the sanctuary waving emerald green palms high in the air and shouting “Hosanna.” And especially if small children are invited to lead the palm procession, it feels festive and joyful. After all, who doesn’t love a parade?

I’d guess that Lent and its somber focus on penitence and forgiveness have primed us for celebration. And at the end of Holy Week, we will celebrate, with the resurrection, but today is not about parades and celebrations.

The first part of the story is well-known. Mark, Matthew and Luke all include the conversation between Jesus and his disciples, instructing them to go into the town and find a donkey, or as Mark says, a colt, and bring it back to him. And by way of explanation, they tell anyone who asks that the animal is needed by the Lord. And nobody bats an eye.

Jesus has already talked with his disciples three times about the suffering and death that he will endure. He has challenged their expectations about what kind of messiah he will be. And now, instead of riding a majestic steed, he chooses to enter Jerusalem riding atop a plain donkey.

The cloaks and leafy branches that are laid before his way can be seen as signs of adoration but just as likely, they were a practical way to tamp down the dust that would be kicked up as he rode.

And yet, the passage still reads as though the people are preparing for a coronation or enthronement. Expectations are high.

And then nothing happens.

Jesus goes into the temple, looks around, sees how late it is and leaves.

And the scene ends.

Matthew and Luke have the temple scene where Jesus throws out the money changers immediately follow his arrival in the temple and, as we talked about a few weeks ago, John has it at the beginning of Jesus’ ministry. But Mark puts it on the next day, and while it’s possible that the timing of this detail doesn’t matter, the effect here is that Jesus doesn’t speak at all from his entrance into Jerusalem to his return to Bethany at the end of the day.

Imagine how he carried himself or what his emotions or expressions were. Surely if people are shouting acclamation and pleading “Save us we pray” - which is what Hosanna means – you’d react or respond. If this was a modern protest or demonstration, you’d expect speeches; if it was a political rally, you’d expect promises. There’d be some kind of climax.

But instead, at least here in Mark’s gospel, there’s nothing. Jesus appears reticent, unshaken or unmoved by the people surrounding him.

As Lamar Williamson, author of the Interpretations commentary, writes, “his silence seems to suggest, “I am Messiah, and I will save; but not as you expect.” (204)

Not as you expect.

As we enter into Holy Week, I wonder, what are our expectations of the Messiah?

Do we expect a Messiah who saves us from illness, pain or grief?

Do we expect a Messiah whose power and authority are in sync with the world where we live?

Do we expect a Messiah who takes our side and punishes our enemies?

Because in Jesus we meet a Messiah who bears our suffering but does not erase it;

a Messiah who laments and weeps;

a Messiah who is unafraid to love those who the world calls unlovable;

a Messiah who seeks justice even when it makes him unpopular, even when it leads to his death.

We are invited to enter this Holy Week not as if we were atop parade floats accompanied by jubilant noisemakers and crowds, but instead following the Lord knowing that each day we draw closer to the cross.

Let us pray…[i]

God of palm branches and hosannas:

We love a good Palm Sunday celebration. We love the sound of a joyful parade.

We love shouting, “Hosanna!” We love that Palm Sunday means Easter is just around the corner.

We love good news.

We give thanks that even when we get distracted,

you call us back to you, and remind us what it means that you have given us a Savior, a Messiah.

Help us remember that we are known, we are loved and we are forgiven. Again and again and again.

We pray in the name of Jesus, our Lord and Savior. Amen.

[i] Adapted from prayers by the Rev. Sarah Are, A Sanctified Art.

Fifth Sunday in Lent

John 12:20-33

Yesterday was the first day of spring, and while I saw crocus, daffodils and pear trees blooming, the wind was piercing, reminding me that we are still many weeks away from the last threat of frost or a hard freeze. We are living in this ‘in-between time’ of “already but not yet.”

We are experiencing this ‘in-between time’ as the pandemic continues as well. Percentages of positive cases are falling and, slowly, vaccination rates are rising. We have come through more than a year of precautions to keep each other safe, but risk remains. “Already but not yet.”

Today’s gospel is set in another ‘in-between time.’

In this chapter of the Fourth Gospel we hear the last words Jesus speaks during his public ministry – a discourse that could be read as “an interpretation of the “final sign in the Gospel: Jesus’ crucifixion, resurrection, and ascension.”[i]

Promising “the ruler of this world will be driven out”, he speaks of Satan’s loss of authority over the world, even as the religious authorities were plotting to arrest him and kill him. (John 11:57) Jesus isn’t wearing rose-colored glasses or being a Pollyanna; he recognizes the evil in the world but has unshakeable confidence that God will be victorious over it.

And then Jesus makes his third reference to his being “lifted up”. We first heard that phrase last week in John 3:14 where it said that Jesus is the source of salvation to all. It appears a second time in 8:28 when Jesus first speaks with the disciples about his death. And now he is telling everyone who is listening to him what is about to happen, and he is promising that when he is lifted up from the earth, he will draw all people to himself. (12:32)

Remember, that in John’s gospel, being lifted up is not only about the crucifixion but also the ascension, creating a way to the Father through Jesus.

Death is all too familiar -whether that death is physical death of someone you love, the death of a long-held belief, the death of a trusted relationship, or the death of a cherished dream. What is unfamiliar and challenges us is to imagine that there is something beyond death. God’s power to transform death into new life and make a way where there has been no way makes the crucifixion, resurrection and ascension exceptional.

This power is the wonder we experience when we see new blooms opening above frosty flowerbeds or the exhilaration we feel when a loved one has been vaccinated against the coronavirus. It is the realization that God continues, again and again, to do something new in the face of long odds and difficulties.

New Testament scholar Father Raymond Brown writes, “The victorious hour of Jesus constitutes a victory over Satan in principle; yet the working out of this victory in time and place is gradual work of believing Christians.”[ii] We are in an ‘in-between time’ of “already but not yet” as we live in the world as it is and long for a world where God is glorified.

The dilemma we face is that we are simul justus et peccator or “both saint and sinner.” If achieving the glory of God is our responsibility alone, we will fail. If driving Satan, or the prince or ruler of the world out, and resisting and condemning all evil is our task, the future is grim. Like Peter, we passionately swear our commitment to Jesus as Lord but within hours, we deny him. We have to echo what Saint Paul named in Romans 7 where he said, “19 I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do.”

But the Good News we have in today’s gospel is that it isn’t our work alone. Remember, God gets all the verbs. Jesus draws people to himself. That doesn’t give Christians a free pass to do nothing. Instead it is a promise that we are empowered by God to do God’s work in the world. As the author of First John wrote

4 …whatever is born of God conquers the world. And this is the victory that conquers the world, our faith. 5 Who is it that conquers the world but the one who believes that Jesus is the Son of God? (1 John 5:3-5)

In faith and by the power of God’s Holy Spirit, we are given the authority to create this life-giving world where evil is resisted and defeated, and where God is glorified.

Of course, as quickly as we recognize the gift and authority God has given us, we also ask how?

So, let’s return to the parable Jesus began with. There we are permitted, and even instructed, to let things die so that new life may come, and new fruit may be born.

We cannot cling too greedily or clutch too tightly to what is already ours. We have to hold things loosely and even be willing to give them up - to let things die and be buried so that there is space for new things to grow.

Honestly, this isn’t easy, even for congregations, churches and church-goers, even when we know God promises there is life after death.

But especially as we approach Holy Week and Easter, as spring advances and the pandemic’s shadow grows smaller, let’s remember that death never gets the last word and think of what may need to die and imagine what new life or fruit may be possible in our lives and our ministries.

Let us pray…

Good and gracious God,

Thank you for Your Son Jesus, the source of salvation for all, and for the abundant life you promise to all who know Him.

Forgive us when we hold things too tightly and forget to trust You.

Help us believe that You will make something new when all we see is death.

We pray in the name of Jesus, our Lord and Savior. Amen.

[i] Karoline Lewis. Commentary on John 12:20-33, Luther Seminary. workingpreacher.org

[ii] Raymond Brown. The Gospel According to John I-XII. 477.

Fourth Sunday in Lent

John 3:14-21

Today’s gospel text is eight verses but one of them - John 3:16 - is one of the best-known or most familiar and easily recognized verses in Scripture. It’s one that shows up on car decals and posters at football games. Given its prominence in Christianity and culture, I invite you to listen to this passage as if you’ve never heard it before and see if you hear anything new today.

John begins with a reference to the Old Testament story from Numbers that we heard just before the gospel. But in contrast to John 3:16, it’s one of the lesser known stories of the Bible.

Whining like children who open a full pantry and say there isn’t anything to eat, the Israelites were grumbling and griping about the divine gift of manna they’d been given by God to sustain them and nourish them in the desert. But instead of calling the people to God and telling them he has heard their murmuring, as he had in Exodus 16, this time God responds to their complaints by setting serpents loose in their midst. It wasn’t their complaints that vexed God; it was their disregard for God’s gifts and the care God had provided.

Even so, it is hard to hear how God apparently had gotten fed up with their whining. I don’t know how to reconcile my understanding of who God is – One who loves God’s people unconditionally – with a God who swore never to destroy the earth again but apparently was ok making it more deadly or lethal. Maybe you have asked that same question.

I am comforted that the story doesn’t end with the vipers biting people and poisoning them with stinging venom or with the deaths that resulted from the serpents’ attacks.

Because when the people turned to Moses and confessed they had offended the Lord, Moses went to God and God instructed him to make a figure of a viper and place it on a pole, or a standard, and to tell people who were bitten to look up at the viper to be healed.

So when one cried out, “Ouch! One of those poisonous serpents just bit me” the response from God was not, “How could you be so stupid to let one of them bite you?” Instead, God offers healing and says, “Let me help you. Look at the serpent on the pole and be healed.”

I think it’s important God doesn’t respond by killing all the serpents or telling God’s people to barricade or hide themselves away from the vipers either. The people have to live in the world the way it is.

Our sin — the ways we turn in on ourselves and disregard God — has consequences. We face judgment and even death when we turn away from God and focus on ourselves. And we must confront our sin. We must confess and name the ways we participate in evil and perpetuate injustice.

The Good News is that while God doesn’t magically erase what we have done or the evil it has unleashed, God does make a way forward for us to find forgiveness and healing. God leads us out of the way of death and into the way of life.

Again and again, God transforms the things that bring death and kill us, and brings healing and life. The venomous serpent becomes a lifegiving sign for God’s people. The cross, an instrument of execution under the Roman emperor, becomes the open arms of God, welcoming all to know God.

In Jesus, God comes among us that we will know salvation, and the way of abundant life, through him. The life God offers isn’t about fire insurance against damnation, or even a heavenly, never-ending life. It is about being invited into the same relationship of mutual love and self-giving that we witness in Jesus’ own relationship to the Father.

In John’s gospel the way to the Father comes through the crucifixion, the resurrection and the ascension. It takes all of the pieces, not just the ones that are joyful and promise-filled, but the ones that bear agony and pain too.

Sometimes we go to great lengths to avoid looking at the things that bring death or kill, and we cannot imagine new possibilities. All we can see is the death in front of us. But John shows us that they are all parts of a whole, where God invites us to participate, to look up and see the transformation God is bringing.

Let us pray…

Good and gracious God,

Thank you for your Son Jesus who was lifted up on the cross to die and lifted up in the ascension to be with You. Thank you for loving us and giving life to all who turn to him in faith.

Give us courage to confess and name our sin and brokenness that we may be transformed by the gift of your love.

Amen.

Third Sunday in Lent

John 2:13-22

It’s March! And even in a pandemic that means basketball, especially here in North Carolina. I remember in seminary I lamented when there weren’t enough hours in the day to both watch the tournament games and complete assignments. My Greek professor who had been at Duke in the 90s was sympathetic because she had to balance grading and games, too.

That professor, The Reverend Dr. Mary Hinkle Shore, is now the Rector and Dean of Lutheran Theological Southern Seminary in Columbia, South Carolina, our Lutheran seminary here in the southeast. And she reframes today’s gospel so that we can better understand what is happening in John’s telling of this familiar story that is often titled, “Jesus cleanses the temple.”[i]

In her reframing, Dr. Shore recalls being on a college campus outside the basketball arena and seeing a semi-tractor trailer there. She describes the scene: generators running, electrical cords winding snakelike to the building, vans with camera crews setting up. A beehive of activity, clearly preparing to televise a game. Whether you are picturing the Dean Dome or Cameron, you can feel the energy and excitement pulsing through the air.

But into this scene, she suggests, we imagine someone with a giant pair of hedge trimmers suddenly cutting all the cords. The lights in and around the arena go out. The scoreboard goes dark. There is a hush, and then an uproar.  

Dr. Shore proposes we wouldn’t say that the person had “cleansed” the arena. We might say that they had stopped the game.

The story of Jesus showing up in the temple courtyard and overturning the tables is in all four gospels, but the synoptic gospels put it after his triumphant entry into Jerusalem, and by including quotes from Isaiah and Jeremiah, those accounts imply that Jesus was focused on exposing corruption among the moneychangers. It is also the event that antagonizes the religious officials into plotting his arrest and death.

But in John’s account, this event takes place very near the beginning of Jesus’ ministry, just after the wedding at Cana where Jesus turned water into wine. In John’s gospel, this won’t be the event that seals Jesus’ fate; that will happen with the rising of the dead man Lazarus in Chapter 11.

In this gospel, Jesus is angry, but it’s not only the possible exploitation that vexes him. The focus here is reorienting God’s people to the presence of God, and even suggesting that the temple itself is not necessary.[ii]

As Dr. Shore writes,

Jesus brings temple activity to a standstill in order to point to another holy place altogether…In John’s gospel, the body of Jesus is the new “holy place.”[iii]

The gospel urges us to pay attention to the ways that the divine and the human meet. Last week, we heard how Peter was too focused on human things. The worshipers and moneychangers in the temple have fallen into that same pattern and even created barriers to worshiping God.[iv]

Here we are reminded to see God embodied in the person of Jesus who takes away all the barriers we construct and erases all the boundaries that shut people out, welcoming everyone to him. The presence of God is no longer hidden or reserved, to be rationed out by religious authorities.

As Martin Luther wrote in his “Heidelberg Dissertation”, “The law says, “do this” and it is never done. Grace says, “believe in this, “and everything is already done.” [v] The glory of God is revealed in Jesus, and we are reconciled to God through him.

By next Sunday we will have been out of the sanctuary, our holy house, for one full year. And while there is a lot to miss about that and it is a lament, I think it also helps us reframe this text this Lent.

Celtic Christianity defines “thin places” as “those places …where it feels like the distance between our finite and material world and God’s eternal and spiritual reality collapses and becomes thin.”[vi] Certainly, holy places like sanctuaries are thin places, but thin places may also exist as a waterfall at South Mountain, or a starry night. Or perhaps the thin place where you experience the Holy is watching the flames in a firepit, hearing a piece of music, or sitting in silence.

These liminal places are the places where we can hear God more clearly and be transformed by God’s love.

In today’s gospel Jesus shows us the way to experience God in him. So, where are the places where God meets you and shows you Jesus?

Let us pray.

Good and gracious God,

We give you thanks for your Son Jesus who reveals your glory and presence to us.

Help us remember that your grace has already accomplished all that we need.

Show us the way to see You in the world around us, every day and in every place and make us zealous to share your love and mercy with everyone we meet.

We pray in the name of Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior.

Amen.

[i] The Rev. Dr. Mary Hinkle Shore. “Commentary on John 2:13-22.” Workingpreacher.org. Luther Seminary.

[ii] The Rev. Dr. Karoline Lewis. “Commentary on John 2:13-22.” Workingpreacher.org. Luther Seminary.

[iii] Shore.

[iv] Sundays and Seasons Resources. Lent 3B.

[v] Martin Luther’s Basic Theological Writings, 2nd. Ed. Timothy F. Lull (Ed.) 60.

[vi] David Lose. “A Thin Place Every Place.” In the Meantime. Davidlose.net