Seeing with the Heart

I'm finally catching up on posting here! This is the sermon I preached for the Third Sunday of Easter, after having spent the Second Sunday of Easter on an Air Force Base in California. It was my honor to have been asked to give the invocation at the commissioning of one of our former St. Barnabas members as she assumed the role of leading the 940th Aircraft Maintenance Squadron. 

And like with so many other experiences one has as a priest, I felt as though I had received much more than I gave during this moment with our military in the Air Force. 

See what you think.

Text: Luke 24:13-35

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This Gospel lesson…often called “The Road to Emmaus”…is one of my favorites.

Luke has a number of memorable passages…The Prodigal Son…The Good Samaritan…but this one hits on that idea that the most ordinary…and simplest encounters with a stranger…can remind us that we’re all connected through the One Love of God to each other.

And it’s through sharing…both our stories and gathering around the table for a meal…that we will know and be known to each other.

It’s also a lesson in what true faith looks like.

We can understand that Cleopas and the other disciple were in the midst of a whirlwind of emotions.

Jesus…the man in whom they had trusted and counted on to be their Messiah…was betrayed and brutally executed by their oppressors…the Roman Empire.

But then…they got word that the women had gone to the tomb…found it empty…and were telling the others that Jesus was alive.

And then…a bunch of the men went to the tomb…they…too…said it was empty.

So these two disciples are doing what any of us would do: they’re not only processing all of this in their own heads…they’re trying to work it out with each other as they make this long walk back to Emmaus.

And when this stranger comes along…and asks “What things? What are you talking about?” they’re like, “Bruh! You don’t know?!” and now they have a third party to help them muddle their way through this trauma.

Isn’t this how we act when something extraordinary and bizarre happens?

Our natural instinct is to share and process.

I think about the time that the tornadoes ripped through the middle of Tallahassee a couple of years ago.

One of them passed right by our house before it landed on a nearby golf course and met up with its twin to continue tearing through neighborhoods in the heart of the city.

After the fact…all of us on our block were in the street…comparing notes of what we heard when…who had heard the tornado alarm?...All of that.

So that’s the headspace that these two disciples are in.

And as this stranger starts to explain…piece by piece…bit by bit…the whole arc of the Messianic story….something shifts in them.

They feel their hearts…”strangely warmed.”

In the midst of the chaos…this stranger is helping to calm them down… lower the adrenaline… as he reminds them of their story.

His demeanor and words made enough of an impression that when he tries to walk off… they’re saying, “No wait! Come home with us.”

That invitation was a major act of trust on their part.

They still don’t know who this guy is… but they felt a level of comfort that made them want to open their home to him.

It was also a mark of their radical hospitality.

It was a common practice at that time in the First Century that people traveled in a type of buddy system because it wasn’t safe to walk alone on some of the roads between towns.

I can imagine that Jesus…still operating incognito at this point… also felt his heart brimming with happiness.

Their willingness to take in the stranger… which was in keeping with his teachings of that Jewish ethic of welcoming the foreigner… must have given him confirmation that those who had believed in his message were not giving up on Love… even as the Roman authorities attempted to cruelly snuff it out.

As he took…blessed…broke…and gave the bread… the two disciples’ hearts…already with those embers of recognition burning… had their eyes opened to see that this stranger was… in fact… their beloved Jesus.

And then he was gone.

We might have thought this sudden disappearance plunged them back into depression.

But instead…they reflected on that moment… the understanding of what just took place.

And as all the pieces came together in their heads…they had the realization of the great gift they’d been given.

They’d just experienced Jesus…present with them in the body of a supposed stranger.

And now this event is the thing that they could hold onto.

Having known Jesus in this way…this is the feeling that they could carry with them and share this understanding with others.

This story of the disciples on that long walk back to Emmaus is a master class in what having faith in God looks like.

Faith isn’t about having all the answers or seeing something right before our faces.

Faith sees with the eyes of the heart… and it’s that sixth sense that can’t be quantified or calculated.

But it’s that stirring we can feel inside ourselves that leads us to wonder and curiosity.

We can sense the presence of the Holy anywhere…whether we’re out in nature and meeting God as we commune with creation…or even as we sit beside a stranger in a waiting room.

God is never that remote if we take the time to slow down and pay attention to who and what is around us. 

It’s through this process of slowing down…and taking time with one another…that we unknowingly invite Jesus into our space.

In this way…Jesus serves as that ultimate community organizer….building bridges through swapping our stories and sharing meals at the table…both this one…and the ones we sit at every day in our homes and our communities.

I was reminded of the importance of such communion this past weekend when I was in California to deliver the invocation at Major Brittany Peters-Wagenius’s assumption of command ceremony.

Besides spending time with Brittany and the whole Wagenius family…I had some conversations with a few of the service members who were in attendance.

As you might imagine… this is a particularly difficult and stressful time for the military… and especially for Brittany’s squadron which takes care of the aircraft used in refueling missions.

When I shared with them about St. Barnabas and how close we are to Moody Air Force Base… I could see in some of their faces that sense of almost relief and appreciation that a church such as ours exists.

One woman even remarked how important it was for the men and women of the Air Force to have a place such as this where they could come and be in the civilian community… and have a spiritual home that wasn’t about the military.

And all this sharing happened without me preaching; I just simply shared that we’re a church near Moody Air Force Base.

And that’s one of the critical pieces of this Gospel story that I think is an important take away.

Once the disciples had their moment of reconnecting with Jesus at the table…they didn’t just sit there.

They went back to Jerusalem.

They sought out others.

They shared their experience.

We should do the same…especially now when the world needs to see Christians who are following Jesus.

By sharing our stories… by letting the prayers we say here…and the meal we eat at this table take root in us and transform us…others will see in our actions…and our words…that ethic of Love that comes to us through Jesus.

And in turn…we may find our hearts strangely warmed by our contact with others if we remain open and attentive to the world around us.

In the name of our One Holy and Undivided Trinity.

"Come and See" A Sermon for Easter 2026

 

And now...the Easter sermon! 

The Easter Vigil featured the story of the resurrection from Matthew's perspective. This morning's Gospel was the John telling of the story.

And the joy of the night before carried over into this morning's celebration back at St. Barnabas.

Text: John 20:1-18

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One of the fun projects we’ve done here at St. Barnabas in these last couple of years is the painting of our Easter rocks.

I invite my friends Kris and Sally to come here from Tallahassee with their rocks and paint pens and we spend about an hour or so letting our creative juices flow.

We paint them with lots of colors and images with a word or a message of hope and encouragement.

And then we put them out around the city with the intention of an unsuspecting person finding them and brightening their day.

We also put on the back side of the rock some kind of identifier that this piece of rock art is brought to you by St. Barnabas in Valdosta.

We blessed our basket of Easter rocks last Sunday…and gave everyone an opportunity to take a couple to put out there in the world.

Easy enough assignment.

But I had someone come up to me with this one rock…beautifully decorated with hearts and a message of “Love.”

“I can’t put this out.”

OK….I’m thinking why not?

“I don’t think you want this out there?”

Now I’m totally confused.

Why in the world would I not want a message “Love” put out in the world?

I mean, that’s the point of this exercise.

“You don’t know what this says…”

And I’m like, “Yes, I know what it says….I saw all of these rocks. I was the one who sprayed the sealant on all these rocks!”

She flipped the rock over.

I saw that it had a hashtag with the church’s name.

I’m still confused as to what the problem was with this rock.

“Yeah OK….Hashtag Saint…..”

And that’s when I saw it.

Instead of St. Barnabas… it was inscribed “Saint Barabas V-L-D”

I thought I knew what I was seeing…but clearly I did not.

My eyes and my head were looking for one thing…only to find something else.

It’s funny how when we expect to see one thing…it’s hard for us to recognize the unexpected.

Such was the case with Mary Magdalene…Peter…and the other disciple.

They knew what had happened to their friend and teacher.

Peter was still carrying the guilt that he hadn’t stood up for Jesus.

The disciples had all scattered when the Romans showed up to arrest him.

Mary Magdalene and the other women had stood by helpless…crying…and horrified by the spectacle of seeing Jesus die on the cross…watching Roman guards cackling and picking over his clothing like vultures.

This was all real.

And their pain and sorrow were real.

Mary had thought that she could go to the tomb in the pre-dawn hours after the Sabbath to properly care for Jesus’s body.

What she hadn’t anticipated was to find the stone rolled away…and an open and empty tomb.

Whoa!! This is NOT normal.

Mary runs and finds Peter.

Then Peter and the other disciple are racing each other…likely with Mary joining in this sprint.

They get to the tomb…Peter goes in…and…uh oh.

There’s the head cloth neatly folded over there.

There’s the linen wrappings tossed aside over there.

Unlike Lazarus…there was no need to unbind this body!

John tells us the other disciple then got up the nerve to go into the tomb…saw the same thing and “believed.” But then he and Peter went home.

I’m thinking that they did one of those slowly backing up from this scene…blinking their eyes a few times…oh my goodness, this is…wow!  He’s really been raised from the dead?!

Remember: this whole ‘dead person brought back to life’ is not normal for them…any more than it is for us.

So they go home.  Home is safe. Home is normal.

Mary…still half out of her mind with grief…finally looks in the tomb for herself.

She doesn’t see the head band…or the linen wrappings.

She sees two angels…sitting in the place where these two items had been.

Whaaaaatt?

She begins wailing again.

The angels are confused and concerned.  This ought to be good news that Jesus has risen.

“Woman, why are you weeping?”

Now she’s confused.

“Why am I weeping?? I came here to care for Jesus’s body and he’s gone!”

“Woman, why are you weeping?”

Is there an echo in here??

Mary turns around and sees some strange guy…asking her the same question.

Through the tears in her eyes…she looks at this man.

“OK, look mister! I don’t know who you are but if you took Jesus’s body you better give him back…”

“Mary!”

That voice.

That tone.

He said he was the shepherd…and the sheep would follow him because he calls them by name and they recognize his voice.

Just like Peter and the disciple…she blinks…looks again…and realizes…this is Jesus.

It’s really him.

She wants to touch him…to hang on to him…to never let him go again.

But in the words of the great modern theologian Sting…

If you love somebody…set them free.

And Jesus has a job for her to do.

“Go tell the others that I am ascending…to our common Father and God! Go my beloved sister. Go tell them to come and see what you have seen.”

Come and see.

That is the overarching theme that we’ve been hearing for several weeks now…building to this moment of Mary Magdalene seeing the resurrected Jesus…and being tasked with becoming an apostle to the apostles.

Nicodemus took the risk to venture out into the darkness to come and see this rabbi who seemed to have a message that was striking a chord with the people.

The Samaritan woman at the well… like Mary Magdalene… became an apostle to her people…the rival Jewish faction… telling them to come and see this incredible man.

Even Jesus was told to come and see where they had laid his friend Lazarus…so that he could call him out of his tomb.

It brings us back to that field with the shepherds at Christmas…when they are told to come and see this new life that was destined to be the one to show them the way to abundant life.

When the unexpected happens… when something extraordinary occurs… the response is to come and see.

And once we have seen it…don’t we naturally want to share this amazing thing?

That’s what Jesus is counting on…and that’s God’s purpose in this feat of the resurrection:

Come…and see…take this in…and then go and share.

And share in ways that are meaningful.

Not standing on street corners with sandwich boards and bullhorns.

As people of this Easter time…we are to share in a manner that changes lives.

We share through telling our stories….how we’ve been touched and shaped by the God of Love…who transforms us.

We bring those stories to those who have not known that type of Love coming from the church…and give them a different experience of what it is to be “Christian.”

We make Jesus manifest through our caring and kindness to our frail and vulnerable friends and family members.

We show that love in our interactions with strangers who may be struggling…or that co-worker who is going through a difficult time.

We do it by letting others see the light of Christ that is within us…shining out through the ways that we live and move and have our being in the world.

Imagine what it would be like if others…having met us… in our revived and renewed Easter selves…turned to their friends and said, “There’s something different about these people…they don’t seem like what I’ve heard about ‘Christians’ from the news.”

Think about it.

“Come and see!”

Easter is the time to emerge out of whatever fears or doubts we’ve had…and to trust that the God of Love will never give up…and will carry us through to a life filled with hope.

That’s worth sharing…so that others may come and see.

In the name of our One Holy and Undivided Trinity.

 

Don't Be Afraid: Get Rolling! An Easter Vigil Sermon

 

I don't get many opportunities to preach at locations other than St. Barnabas. So when the opportunity arose to be the preacher for our joint Easter Vigil at Christ Episcopal Church with our sister parish Christ the King, I didn't want to pass it up. Besides, having a seminarian at St. Barnabas afforded me the luxuary of NOT having to write a sermon for Maundy Thursday...something I knew my fellow clergy were going to have to do. 

It also helps that I love the Easter Vigil. Yes, it's long service. But it is also the culmination of everything we've been building towards through Lent, and there's something so magnificent about starting in darkness and then throwing on all of the lights to shout, "Alleluia!" 

I was pleased that this sermon was very well received, and they enjoyed my sense of humor. See what you think.

Text: Matthew 28: 1-10

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As I was looking over our Gospel reading…I found myself humming a classic blues tune first made famous by Big Joe Turner ….

Shake, Rattle, and Roll.

Because in Matthew’s depiction of the resurrection…there’s a whole lotta of shaking…and people getting rattled…and now they’re on a roll in this story.

I said this to the St. Barnabas congregation on Palm Sunday that when Jesus shows up…things get shaken up.

From the moment he entered Jerusalem…the city was in turmoil…meaning it was shaking. His presence was sending shockwaves through the community.

When he died on the cross….again…the earth shook…the curtain in the Temple was torn in two from top to bottom.

And now we have another earthquake…another earth-shattering moment.

The scene is filled with the flashing light of this angel…swooping down from heaven…to open the tomb by rolling away the stone.

The Roman guards are also shaking…and quivering in their boots.

We can imagine their terror.

I mean, this was supposed to be an easy job.

All they had to do was stand watch in front of this tomb hewn in a rock and make sure nobody tries to break in.

Little did they know that the God of Love had other plans…and that when angels are on a mission from God…they aren’t playing.

In fact…this angel put period on this whole event by sitting a top that giant stone…maybe even throwing a bit of attitude to say, “You can’t top this!”

The two Marys were also rattled by this whole thing.

This is some seriously otherworldly stuff to be happening just as the light of dawn is breaking!

The triumphant angel looks at them.

This supernatural being can see that look in their eyes…and calmly…and kindly says the most often repeated words in Scripture.

“Do not be afraid.”

“Really, dear faithful women, It’s OK.

Yes…I know I was very dramatic with that entrance…but really…come and see.

Come and see this empty tomb…see it for yourselves….Jesus is not here. God has raised him. Go and tell the others!”

The Marys take off.

They are mix of fear…with a dose of confusion…and a heavy dash of hope.

They go sprinting over the rocky terrain as the light of day keeps growing brighter.

Just as they round the corner on the path…a familiar voice calls out to them:

“Greetings!”

They stop.

They stare.

They blink several times.

Mary looks at Mary Magdalene.

Mary Magdalene’s face brightens with a smile.

Is it?

Could it really be?

With no words…the Marys move closer to Jesus and kneel down before him.

Their bodies are shaking from the adrenaline that is coursing through their muscles.

And like the angel…Jesus speaks those words of courage:

“Do not be afraid.”

Mary and Magdalene: you are my apostles to the apostles.

My beloved sisters…I am with you and will gather with all of those who ran to the four corners at Galilee. Go and tell the brothers! It’s time to roll!”

And so they ran…now powered with hope and joy and a sense of purpose…as the sun’s rays lit up their path.

A day that for them had started in darkness is now full of new light.

They have seen it for themselves: Jesus is alive! And he is with them and us now and always!

This is the story we tell every year in the church.

It’s our story…one that has given encouragement to so many over the millennia.

This is the culmination of all that we heard in the tracing of the history…the story of a God who made a cosmos out of chaos and has found a way when their appeared to be no way out from under the crushing rule of tyrants and bullies.

The God who can and will breathe new life into those who say they are too tired…too weak…too discouraged to keep pressing for a world where we care for our neighbors who live in isolation and fear and liberate people from their self-limiting doubts and depression.

The message of Easter is the confirmation that mercy…justice and compassion are the way to life…and that those who struggle against powers and principalities can turn to this word for the blessed assurance of the real truth: Love wins.

And here’s the best part: this is not just our history…and some story out a book that councils curated centuries ago.

This Easter message is our present….our now…if we are open enough to hear it…and brave enough to proclaim it.

Yes…I know…according to the rubrics…deacons are the ones that the church has given the authority to “proclaim” the Gospel.

But when we hear those words of the Gospel from the deacon…it’s not them that we’re hearing: it’s God.

And it’s the God who is Love in Action telling us to “Go!”

“Don’t just hear this Good News and think ‘Well isn’t that a fine thing that happened?’

Let these words shake us up….let them rattle about in our heads…and then let’s get rolling out there to live…and speak…and share that there is a better way to be.”

And when the deacon dismisses us at the end of our worship…sending us out in the name of Christ…that’s not an invitation to go to coffee hour…really it isn’t!

That is a directive to leave this place…and be that light of Christ in our communities.

Because the world needs to hear from us who have known and experienced a God who seeks out the marginalized…the outcasts…and the easily dismissed and ignored and puts them into the center of the story.

The God who knew that the most reliable messengers were the women who came to pay homage to their friend Jesus…and found an empty tomb…and the women who have continued to carry the message of Christ to their communities.

And the world is waiting to meet the Christian who sees the injustices that are happening and is brave enough to take a stand alongside those who are the tired and poor yearning to breathe free.

Our Easter story is one of power and purpose and building our confidence to declare that Love will win…and nothing will stop the forward movement of that Love.

And so we say with one voice…to shake…rattle and roll the rafters of this building:

Alleluia! Christ is Risen! The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!

Feeling the Absence of God: A Good Friday Sermon

 Maybe it's the difficulty of the times we're living in and just the constant sense of doom and gloom that hangs over the nation that I found myself really struggling to write a sermon for Good Friday. 

I mean, it's a day that commemorates the brutal killing of Jesus by the state. And we've witnessed in this country repeated killings...both through numerous executions carried out in Florida...and the extrajudicial taking of lives by ICE in major U.S. cities. Maybe it just all felt too raw and real for me to think through the Gospel of John's telling of the Passion to want to preach about it.

And so I turned to the Psalm...number 22..."My God, my God! Why have you forsaken me?"

Because that's where I am at on so many days right now.

Text: Psalm 22, John 18:1-19:42

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“My God! My God! Why have you forsaken me?”

Those must be some of the loneliest words in all of Scripture.

Psalm 22 captures the lament of those who have been on the receiving end of human cruelty.

Each verse describing that sense of what it feels like to be innocent…and yet treated with disrespect and derision.

In other Gospel passages about the crucifixion….that first verse of the psalm are the only words we hear Jesus utter from the cross.

And we can imagine why this particular psalm…believed to be written by King David…would have been on Jesus’ mind at that moment.

Because…at that hour… the crucified Jesus was truly powerless.

He was vulnerable.

And he was scared.

He’s just like us.

It would be nice to think that…as Christians and people who believe in God… we pray all the time…and regularly stay in conversation with the Holy One.

But…at least it’s been in my experience…the times when we are the most likely to turn to God in prayer is when we’re in trouble.

We might put up those prayers like Anne Lamott: a very simple Help! Help! Help!

Get me out of this situation!

And when we’re in that place…of deep worry and fear…the worst feeling is to call out our prayer…and only hear crickets in return.

It’s one thing to feel abandoned by friends…and another when it’s your family.

But to feel the absence of God….that’s harsh.

The psalmist captures that depth of the hurt we feel when it seems God is silent:

“I am poured out like water;

All my bones are out of joint;

My heart within my breast is melting wax”? (14)

While John’s Gospel doesn’t have Jesus repeating that opening line of the psalm while he’s on the cross…the evangelist does reference it when talking about those who are gloating…and taking pleasure in his pain.

The indifference and lack of empathy from those inflicting the torture makes the point about the inhumanity that the psalmist observes.

All this tracks with the way that tyrants and bullies have always behaved…especially when challenged.

And certainly Jesus posed a threat to the Roman Empire.

He has been flipping over tables in the marketplace of the Temple and exposing the whole system as corrupt and oppressive.

He’s been chastised for healing sick people…giving them the agency to walk…and to see…and leading them toward the God of Love.

He conversed with a Samaritan woman…and treated her with the dignity denied to her by others…breaking down the rift between cultures.

And when Pontius Pilate…an agent of the state known for his ruthlessness… demanded to know “What is truth?” Jesus didn’t dignify the question of his bully with an answer.

Because Jesus wouldn’t obey…because he refused to bend the knee…and kept encouraging others to see in themselves their worth in the eyes of God…he was put to death.

This pattern has been repeated throughout history.

In our own country…the black Christian theologian James Cone has challenged us to see in the cross the lynching tree…and to accept that Jesus was the first victim of such brutal hatred.

Cone sees in Jesus the body of victims of racism…the people killed for simply existing in black skin and having the audacity to think that they could live their lives in peace alongside white people.

Cone extends this out to all those who are the marginalized “others” mocked…scorned…and dehumanized by the dominant culture.

And there’s been plenty of that going around lately.

Neighbors turning on neighbors….and arrests of innocent people for the crime of being black or brown and speaking another language.

The memes passed around on social media laughing at the idea of sending people to the swampy Everglades to be alligator food.

There’s no escaping the truth of what Good Friday and the cross stood for then…and now.

It is a collision between those who choose force as a means to threaten and dominate others…acting as “the packs of dogs” who encircle those they see as “weak”…and the ones who choose power with others…non-violence… and don’t provide answers to empty questions.

Which is why it makes sense that some of our Gospel writers have Jesus turning to Psalm 22 in this critical moment at the end of his earthly life.

And we can imagine Jesus praying through the whole thing as he is dying.

Because while the psalm captures all that is wrong with what is happening in the moment…and expresses lament for the inhumanity of the situation he’s in…it also has language that provides a source of comfort and hope…that God will hear his cry and will meet him in this hour of need.

This is why when people ask me what book of the Bible I would recommend they read…I always cite the Book of Psalms.

Psalm 22 not only expresses the grief and the fear of the abyss…it’s also a life ring of promise in what is a hopeless situation…and trusts in a God who will respond to the brokenhearted.  Hear these words:

“Praise the Lord, you that fear him”

“I will perform my vows in the presence of those who worship him”

I can even think that Jesus clung to the psalmist echoing the sentiments that his mother declared to Elizabeth during her pregnancy:

“God does not despise nor abhor the poor in their poverty,…but when they cry to him, he hears them. The poor shall eat and be satisfied, and those who seek the Lord shall praise him.”

The psalmist names our pains…and doubts…and yet keeps turning back to God…believing that despite it all…God is hearing our pleas.

Did God abandon Jesus on the cross?

No…

God was there throughout…in the same way that God is with us…in us…and around us in our moments of distress as well as our joys.

Through Jesus…God has moved closer to our existence…and our struggles against the most powerful forces that try to keep us down.

Through our faith and trust in God…we can survive and weather the storms that come at us…even in these most trying times.

One day…we too…like the psalmist…will be able to speak confidently to the saving deeds that God has done.

And we will be able to declare that our times of distress are finished.

In the name of Our One Holy and Undivided Trinity.

 

We Shall Overcome: A Palm Sunday Sermon

 It has been a while since I've posted my sermons. That's how busy these past several weeks have been. And so let's get back in the saddle, so to speak, and share the sermons from Palm Sunday through Easter ( my seminarian preached Maundy Thursday and did it as Jesus having his internal monologue on how to say good-bye).

There was a particularly providential occurence this Palm Sunday. The day before was the third No Kings protest across the nation (and globe, for that matter), denouncing our U.S. administration and its steep turn toward authoritarianism. While I chose not to go head on into comparing the reasons for these increasingly large gatherings and the message that we don't like dictators with Jesus's ride into Jerusalem...No Kings was very much on my mind as I wrote this sermon. Maybe it was on your mind, too. See what you think.

Please note: I did NOT preach on the Passion of Christ from Matthew's Gospel. And if there is anyone with any influence over the lectionary reading these posts, please send a message to the church that we should be sticking to PALM SUNDAY and not slapping us with GOOD FRIDAY at the same service.

Text: Matthew 21:1-11

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Please be seated.

I know I’ve said this before and I am going to say it again: I wish the church didn’t assign the Passion Gospel for Palm Sunday.

OK…end of critique of the lectionary.

I want us to take a breath in…and breathe out…do that again…and once more….

That act of breathing is the means of calming the nervous system down…and resetting us…as we take a moment to rewind the tape of this morning…and go back to that entry into Jerusalem…with Jesus riding into the city on a donkey.

Because that march into Jerusalem is an important part of this story…and we shouldn’t race past it.

It holds symbolic meaning both back then when it happened…and it remains very relevant for us now.

If you want…pull out that Gospel lesson from your bulletin...and let’s do a quick refresher.

Jesus and his disciples are at the Mount of Olives….which is to the east of Jerusalem.

He tells a couple of them to go into Bethphage and get a donkey and a colt.

Now…this is actually a humorous point…and we had some discussion about this in our Midrash class the other night.

Matthew quotes “the prophet” but actually he’s taking words from both Isaiah and Zechariah about predictions of who will be coming to save them from their occupiers. What Matthew didn’t understand was the poetic language of Zechariah…that their king would be humbly riding on a young donkey…a colt…not that there would be a donkey AND a colt.

Always important to remember that Scripture should be taken seriously…but not literally.

The crowds are gathering…they’re shouting “Hosanna!” which means “Save us!”

“Save us, Jesus, from this oppression!”

“Save us, Jesus, from this tyranny!”

What we don’t hear in this account of Matthew is what’s happening on the other side of the city.

Pontius Pilate…who by historical accounts was a brutal and inflexible Roman Governor…was coming with the Roman Army from Caesarea Maritima…on the west side of Jerusalem.

The Roman Empire…which occupied Jerusalem…and stretched from points in Europe…Africa…and Asia…had no tolerance for upstarts challenging the authority of the Emperor.

And so it was customary that when a major Jewish festival such as Passover was coming…Rome would want to exert control.

Passover was a particularly tense time.

Jews from all over would be gathering and remembering the story of their liberation from slavery in Egypt.

Pilate would ride into Jerusalem in his chariot…his soldiers descending on the city with their spears and their war horses…to make sure the Jews of Jerusalem didn’t get some wild idea of rioting against their newest Pharaoh.

Jesus knew this was the routine.

And so his entry into Jerusalem wasn’t a coincidence.

This was an intentional action.

It was provocative…and it was a signal to Rome: We Shall Overcome.

Tyranny will not win.

There is another kingdom…a better reality.

Jesus was demonstrating to the people that there was an alternative to their world ruled by fear and intimidation…and this reality has come closer…and is right now.

It has come on a donkey…with crowds cheering and throwing coats and palm branches on the road.

This parade coming from the East was loud….more raucous than the precision march of the Roman Army.

A desperate and demoralized people have poured out onto the streets…looking to Jesus as the answer to their prayer!

Hosanna Son of David!

Hosanna to the highest heaven!

And while some welcomed the arrival of Jesus…with their shouting and singing his praises…we see in this story that his march into Jerusalem caused turmoil.

In fact…the Greek root for that “turmoil” is “seismo”…as in seismic…just like the earthquake that would shake the city at the death of Jesus.

Seems when Jesus shows up…things get shaken up.

And that’s the importance of this story.

When Jesus draws near and becomes manifest…it causes not only shifts in the earth…he challenges our very being to shift and change.

We see it in the Passion reading with the wife of Pontius Pilate.

While her husband is holding the fate of Jesus in his hands…she’s begging him not to have nothing to do with ‘that innocent man.’

Clearly…there’s something about Jesus that has rattled even her…a Gentile.

If only Pilate the politician had listened to the woman…how different things would have been.

He rattles those who want to keep the status quo…those who don’t want to make waves…and just go along to get along.

When the crowd assembles in front of Pilate….it is a convenient and curated gathering of those who would have been allowed into his courtyard.

When they cried out “His blood be on us and on our children!”—a phrase that has been twisted by Christians into a dangerously antisemitic trope—they had no idea that the blood he would be shedding would redeem them…and the whole world.

Jesus has a way of disrupting and disturbing us out of our hum drum ways.

He is the reminder to us that we should not live our lives based on the premise of doing what is good for me…and not for thee.

He tugs on those invisible cords that remind us that we are only one part of the creative order…and we must care for the world around us…the people…the plants…and the animals.

And when Jesus enters…as that king…triumphant and riding on the foal of a donkey…he is defying the idea we have of kings and Emperors…and is establishing that true power is not held by the political and religious elites: it belongs to the people.

What a message to have in our country today.

A vision of resilience and resistance to those who claim supremacy by force…by holding a procession in the name of love, compassion, and mercy.

That life force is still with us…and it is still facing sometimes violent opposition.

But it keeps summoning us to join the battle against brutality…and walk in the way of love.

May this Holy Week be a reminder to us to stick with Love because Love is the way…the truth…and the life.

In the name of Our One Holy and Undivided Trinity.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Speak the God You Know

 

It was a really, really rough week for me, personally. I came down with a nasty head cold Monday morning that kept me in bed almost all week. I made myself get up Friday and pound out this sermon, praying that I would actually be well enough to travel to Valdosta to preach it.

And I was and I did. 

See what you think.

Texts: 1Sam 16:1-13; John 9:1-41

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There’s a portion of one of the canticles in Morning Prayer that I’ve been thinking about a lot lately.

It’s from the Second Song of Isaiah…which quotes from the 55^th chapter of the prophet:

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor your ways my ways, says the Lord.

For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways,

And my thoughts than your thoughts.”

In both the first reading from this morning in First Samuel…and in our Gospel…there’s a theme of people thinking they know more about what God wants and what is right with God than what is really true about God and God’s thoughts.

Samuel initially thinks that Eliab…the very tall eldest son of Jesse…is the man God wants as the new king of Israel.

Tall men are important men, right?

Wrong.

Fortunately…Samuel was able to park his own prejudices to follow God’s lead…and he anointed David.

Then in our Gospel…Jesus and the disciples come upon a blind man as they’re travelling.

The disciples…caught up in the cultural beliefs of the time…want to know who sinned to cause this man to be blind.

Thankfully…we are living in times now where we know “sin” isn’t the reason for a physical difference.

Sadly…there are still places and people who profess belief in Jesus…who think that one can be healed of a disability.

I have friends who tell stories of well-meaning family members taking them to tent revivals hoping for a cure.

The experiences not only failed to change them…in many instances…they left my friends angry and embittered toward religion.

While the story of the blind man is one in which this man gains his sight…for the first time in his life…this passage is telling us more about everybody else in the story.

And it’s saying a lot about the way people respond to change.

The blind man is pleased…maybe even a bit overwhelmed.

He has never been able to see his surroundings.

He heard the voices of people…but now he sees faces.

This is a new experience…and he’s just getting used to this reality.

Meanwhile…the people in his village see him and they don’t recognize him…even though he’s been living with them as a beggar his whole life.

But now that he’s not dependent on them…they don’t know who he is.

The religious figures are up in arms when they hear it’s this Jesus character again…and they demand to know more about all of this from the blind man.

Still not satisfied with his answers…they call out his parents. And his parents are like, “Hey…he’s an adult talk to him about it.”

With each new group…with each inquisition…the blind man’s recounting becomes firmer and with more conviction.

And as his faith and trust in the truth of his story grows…everyone else…from his family…to his synagogue…to his community…refuses to see…and will not accept his answers.

It’s as if they have become blind to the light that is glowing through his now opened eyes.

In the end…he’s cast out.

This is a tale familiar to anyone who has dared to speak their truth…to tell their story…only to be faced with hostility and rejection from the hearers.

One might hear the acronym “L-G-B-T-Q-I-A” in place of “blind” and substitute “the Christians” for “the Jews” and get the same idea.

          Too often…faith communities have turned their backs on members when they “come out.” This change in the person’s identity challenges other people’s prejudices…and they are unwilling to accept a new reality.

In our current climate…there’s a real concern about the identity of Christianity.

In an interview a few years ago…Russell Moore…the editor of Christianity Today and former head of the Southern Baptist Convention…talked about a pastor who was confronted after preaching a sermon on the Beatitudes.

The parishioner was angry about “blessed are the peacemakers” and that the preacher had presented Jesus as having empathy.

“Where did you get those liberal talking points?!”

The preacher…a bit stunned…responded…”I’m literally quoting Jesus Christ.”

You’d think the parishioner might apologize at that point but no they did not.

“That doesn’t work anymore. That’s weak!”

As Moore said, “When we get to the point where the teachings of Jesus himself becomes subversive to us, we’re in a crisis.”

I have heard many people say to me that they don’t want to identify as “Christian” because of the growth of the White Nationalism Movement within Christianity.

They don’t want to be seen as having any part of the church that cheers on war…thinks nothing of those who have lost access to healthcare coverage…and demands that women be silent in church and society.

I get that.

I don’t want to be part of that church either…and certainly not that version of Christianity.

If we look back at the Gospel lesson for a moment…the thing that we see is that as this poor blind man is being interrogated by everyone…Jesus is nowhere to be found.

It’s when the man has been turned away by his community that Jesus comes back to seek him out.

This is when the man makes his confession that he does believe in Jesus…”The Son of Man.”

He believes in the Jesus who heals.

He believes in the Jesus who sees.

He believes in the Jesus who sought him out and did not cast him away by telling him:

“Go figure out how to get through life, buddy.”

This is the Jesus who…like with Nicodemus…tells us he didn’t come to condemn the world…

But he is going to judge it.

He’s going to look for those of us who will profess our love of God…and demonstrate that love of God by the way we love our neighbors.

He’s searching for…and calling into service the people who see the needs in their community and find ways to meet them.

The ones who don’t let our human differences of skin color…ethnicity…language…gender… ability…orientation…or identity get in the way of extending kindness… especially in times of anxiety and uncertainty.

We know a Jesus who loves…deeply and unconditionally.

If this is the Jesus we know…we have nothing to fear in asserting that truth in the face of a culture or even a church that is blind to that Jesus.

Because even if we face rejection by others…we can have confidence that Jesus will be there to whisper,

“Well done, good and faithful one.

Keep the faith. And keep going!”

In the name of Our One Holy and Undivided Trinity.