Following Instructions; Easter Sermon, April 16, 2017

Matthew 27:50-66, 28:1-10

He Is Risen!  He Is Risen Indeed!

Let us give thanks for the all-encompassing love shown by God through the Risen Christ!   Pray with me…

I’m breaking a few ministry rules this morning.  Typically, the only scripture ever read on Easter morning – Resurrection Morning – is that of the resurrection.  The talk of death is left to Good Friday.  Scripture on Resurrection Day always begins with the women, walking to the tomb at dawn, and discovering the empty tomb.  In the Gospel of John, the stone is already rolled away when then arrive, and the women carry with them spices with them, clearly with the purpose to anoint Jesus’ body.  In the gospel of Mark, the women run from the tomb in fear – and that is the abrupt ending of his account. 

But that is not Matthew’s account. Every gospel has slightly different accounts of the resurrection.  I broke this rule today because I wanted you to really hear the Gospel of Matthew.

In his gospel, Matthew is proclaiming that the divide between Heaven and Earth has been crossed. When Jesus dies, there is a tear in the fabric that separates God’s realm from our realm.  The temple cloth was ripped in two, the earth shakes, and the dead arise. It is terrifying enough that even a Roman Centurion, those that just moments before were just mocking and harassing Jesus, is persuaded that something different is happening.  He exclaims, ‘Truly, this IS God’s son!’  But some people are not afraid. Some people have heard, and believe, and are just following instructions. 

Late last summer, just before coming to Hastings, I helped my cousin cross something off of her bucket list; we took a Trapeze class.  Yes, in the list of all the crazy things available in the big city, trapeze class is one of those things.  In fact, I have nieces who take classes in circus arts pretty regularly in Boston.  But trapeze class - for me, in this body, at this age, with my occasional fear of heights - was not something I had ever considered.  But, I’m never one to pass up an experience if it’s affordable, so we proceeded to the NY Trapeze School Chicago on the lakefront and paid for our 2 hours of instruction in flying trapeze.

The craziest thing about trapeze class was the way your disbelief blended with fear and adrenaline – and yet, required continued courage.  Unlike skydiving – a one-time jump, - you had to act continually if you were going to succeed. You just had to push through that fear and get up again, and again. 

First, there was the ladder into the sky.  You climbed up, and up, and up, to a small-ish platform far far above the ground.  The first two times you climb this ladder, they secure your harness with ropes – after that, you are on your own.  After about 5 times topping that ladder, with my hamstring muscles screaming and soaked with adrenaline, I almost didn’t go back up. 

Next, while you are standing on an unguarded platform 22 feet off the ground, you have to move to the front and hang your toes off the front edge to grab the trapeze bar, and stand in that stretched, tense, awkward position for what feels like an eternity while the sentry behind you secures your harness and your ‘catch’ – the other person involved in this equation – times their swinging to yours.

Third, they ask you to bend your knees and jump.  This was really the moment of truth, each and every single time.  They would call “Hup Hup” and on the second one, you were expected to plunge off the platform and towards the net at the speed that your body determined.  And that’s where you felt it.  That incredible drag deep in your gut as the trapeze dipped to it’s lowest point, and then pulled you back upward.  You would not BELIEVE the power of centrifugal force when you are swinging 16 feet in the air.  I mean, we’ve all accepted that gravity exists. But I tell you, I didn’t have any idea what it really felt like until I was desperately trying to hold onto that crossbar.  A few times, I let go.  Once I let go at the end of the arch with my knees up, and nearly came down on my head, which could have broken my neck if it wasn’t for some masterful maneuvering of the guy running my harness. That’s the other part of centrifugal force.  It spins you with the slightest movement.

Anyways, it takes you a bit to start to read the arch, and when you are faced with that much adrenaline your mind kind of goes numb.  There’s an instructor standing on the ground, barking out commands.  “Forward. Back. Forward. Look up. Knees up. Release.  Stretch. Smile. Drop.”  His commands are timed, and if you can fight through your nerves enough to listen, he will help you get to completion.  But, as so often happens to those in his class, either his words don’t penetrate your brain, or you are just not ready to trust anything in the midst of all your fear.

Cousin Beth following instructions to 'Smile'!

The Angel in our gospel says, “don’t be afraid. Don’t YOU be afraid.”  He says this to the women, while the guards from Pilate quake and shake and fall over as if they were dead.

Unique to the gospel of Matthew, the chief priests ask that the tomb be guarded throughout the night.  Only in the gospel of Matthew do the ruling powers – the priests and Pilate – make sure to guard the tomb, lest the body be stolen away to fuel the Jesus movement that has captured the belief of so many.  They seal the tomb and post a centurion to guard the tomb through the night.

Matthew knows that the power of the state authorities is no match for God.  The state, so threatened by the teachings that there is no division between us, that there is no hierarchy among us, that no religious law that keeps us from being in God’s community together, is scandalized.  The authorities are outraged.  And they are scared.  They are so scared of that truth, of that freedom, of the love that underscores those teachings, that they have done what Earthly authorities do.  The state has reverted to the usual tactics; monitoring and reporting. Threats and intimidation.  Incentives and betrayal.  Capture and detainment.  Trial and verdict.  And, finally, violence.  This is the toolbox of Imperial power.  Power will always work to reassert its power.

The state has employed all the tools at its disposal to prevent others from risking the same fate.  And then, even though they’ve won, the earthly authorities stand by to guard their triumph.  They stand by to guard their superior power.

And yet, the earth shakes.  The curtain tears. The dead rise, and the instruments of the state quake in their boots. 

When you’ve put all your faith in your superior force, losing control will shake your foundations.  So of course, the guards are terrified, and fall over as if dead.  But the women – the women are not afraid. 

The women in Matthew’s gospel have heard Jesus, and their faith leads them.  At dawn, they are heading towards the tomb – but unlike in John’s version, they are not going with oils and spices. They aren’t going to anoint the body.  They aren’t going to make sure it’s secure.  They aren’t hiding out in an upper room, where the disciples are.  They aren’t hiding behind armed guards.  They are going in search of Jesus.  They heard him tell that he would be raised, and they believed.  They aren’t on steady ground, but they have come to see for themselves.

On the Trapeze, swinging through the air, if you are still functioning, if you can hear through the haze adrenaline and fear, all you can do is listen to instructions.  I think about this when I think about these women, moving through the drag and pull of their grief to the tomb. Following instructions. Walking to the tomb.   To come and see, for themselves.

Hup. Hup. Jump. Forward. Back. Forward.  … Knees Up.  Release hands. Stretch. Look up. Hands out.  Smile.  Drop.

For that moment, suspended in mid-air, that suspended moment of disbelief, of complete uncertainty, when everything in your experience is upside down, you look up and wonder – what the heck am I doing?  Where is the ground?  How will I survive this?

When the earth shakes once again, and the angel appears, the guards are terrified, but the women are not.  The angel knows why they have come, and confirms their belief.  “He has been raised, as he said.”  Not only have the women been listening to Jesus, and understood him, but they are also acting on their faith.  They have come to see for themselves.

Everything in these women’s experience dictates a certain order.  There is the sky, this is the ground, and there is the tomb.  People die, and they are gone. They go into the tomb, and then they are buried. And the grief pulls and drags you down.   But for a moment, they are suspending their disbelief, moving through their grief, finding their courage to go and see for themselves.

And then, flying through the air on the Trapeze, suddenly, you are looking someone straight in the eyes.  There are hands on your wrists, clasping.   And you are safe, caught.  Swinging through the air.  Drop averted. Death defeated.  You grab to hold on, and feel the exhilaration and wonder ripple through you.

And they find the tomb empty.  A flash a lightning, and angel speaks, and they are caught.  The gravity of their grief is suspended.  The world order is turned upside-down.  The state has no power over God, who will catch them if they only trust.

In their wonder and exhilaration, the women run to find the disciples, to tell them that the world is not as it would seem.  Like an earthquake, everything is upended.  Everything is rearranged.

The women in Matthew’s gospel are the first to see the world through God’s eyes.   In the haze of their grief, they push through to remember the instructions, as he said.  Come and see.  Third Day. He will rise.

And they jump.  They take a leap of faith.

Today, on Resurrection Day, we are invited to come and see the world through God’s eyes.  Because of today, Resurrection Day, we can give love with abandon, because God’s love cannot be contained, guarded, or suppressed.  Today there is no divide between Heaven and Earth.  We can find courage to peer into the tomb that we fear, because fear has no power over God.   We are invited to trust in faith will lead us to the Risen Christ. He will meet us in Galilee, where the work of healing, and teaching, and raising will continue.  God will continue to abide with us.

In their joyful rush to the disciples, the women meet Jesus, who greets them.  The Matthew passage is very anticlimactic; Jesus simply says ‘Greetings’ in our English translation. But in Greek, to say ‘greetings’ is as if to say, “glad tidings”, as if to say, “rejoice”.  Jesus appears before his most fervent believers with the words, “Rejoice.”  And with outstretched hands and suspended disbelief, they bend and grasp his feet.  Look Up. And Smile. They have been caught, their grief has dropped away, and they are saved.

On Easter, in the presence of the Risen Christ, we greet a world upended, and we rejoice. We rejoice that the world is rearranged, re-ordered, re-valued.  A world where love reigns.  A world where we can trust we will be caught.  Everything is made new. Absolute fear has been transformed. We can have courage to walk through life without fear, trusting in God’s commands:

Love one another, as if there’s no divide between us, because you are part of God’s beloved community. 

And then, we will rise. Thanks be to God.

Resisting Force; Sermon for Palm Sunday, April 9, 2017

Matthew 21:1-11

Resisting Force

Tomorrow, as we begin Holy Week, Jews across the world will be sitting down for the Jewish holiday of a Passover “Seder”, which is actually a dinner.  Who here has heard of Seder before?  Does anyone know what it is?

Jews celebrate Passover to as a remembrance of liberation by God from slavery in Egypt and their freedom as a nation under the leadership of Moses.  In ancient times, Passover was one of the three Pilgrimage Festivals in Judaism, where people gathered in Jerusalem with their agricultural offerings.  There are also some commandments that must be followed during that time, which include ceremonial hand-washing, eating only un-leavened bread – which is more like a tasteless cracker and called the bread of affliction - and bitter herbs, to signify the bitterness of the time Jews spent in slavery.  Most of this is accomplished in the dinner on the first night of Passover, which is called a Seder.  The word seder literally means ‘order’; the Passover has 15 separate steps in its traditional order which help tell the Jewish Story.

 

Has anyone ever been to a Passover Seder? 

When I was a kid, I remember that our youth group went to Passover at a nearby Synagogue to do a little interfaith education.  I don’t remember much about that experience except that it happened.  The one I do remember is my first Passover as an adult in Chicago, hosted by the Jewish Council on Urban Affairs.  This was a non-profit and the invitation went out to partnering organizations, so I took the opportunity to go, by myself.  When I got there, people were invited to sit at these large circular tables, like our Grabill Hall.  The table was set with some very specific things – a shank bone, lettuce, an egg, parsley, horseradish as a bitter herb, wine, and matzah bread, which is like a dry salt-less cracker… actually a bit like cardboard… (there are a lot of jokes about the unappetizing qualities of Matzah bread… like, “What do you call someone who derives pleasure from the bread of affliction?  A matzochist.”)

Now we all had a glass for wine, and someone came by with a bottle of kosher wine for the table and set it near me. Trying to be polite, I picked it up and asked if I could pour wine for someone sitting next to me.  She said yes, and I poured her a glass of wine, as you do, and then poured mine.  I barely caught the look on her face, which seemed a bit sour.

Then she said to me, “you’re not Jewish, are you?”  No, I said, wondering why it was that obvious. 

Then we started the meal.  The leader, knowing they had a mixture of attendees, Jewish and non-Jewish, gave instructions.  It begins with the first blessing of Sanctification said over the wine, and then the wine is drunk. All the wine.  The whole glass, so that we can pour another for the second blessing.

This second glass she did not let me pour.

In our readings this week, Jesus has entered the gates of Jerusalem a few days before the celebration of Passover.  Passover, in this day and age, seems like a charming recitation of Jewish history – a nice excuse to get together with family and educate young ones.  But in biblical times, it was a different kind of celebration – it was a celebration of Israel’s independence day.

Passover is a retelling of the story of God liberating the Israelite slaves from Pharoah. It is a celebration of overthrowing the ultra-powerful Pharoah, of Pharoah’s horses and riders being thrown into the sea by God.  It is the story of God always being on their side, of God leading them to land that was promised.  Story of faith and hope that God will not abandon them.  It is the recitation of the identity of the people.  The Passover was an ultra nationalistic celebration … done here in the midst of occupied Rome. It was a celebration of Jewish freedom in a time and place when Jews were not free.  Jews were living under the boot of the Roman occupation.

And since this is a pilgrimage festival, a festival that has to be celebrated in Jerusalem where the Temple is located, the city is packed with people.  Biblical scholars estimate that Jerusalem had a population of about 20 to 30,000 people, like the size of Hastings.  But at Passover the Holy city’s population might have added another 150,000 people.  Imagine every room filled, with campsites popping up on every available hillside and open space, inhabited by people who had traveled, sometimes for weeks, to be there.

 

Imagine living in a town under tense oppression from the authorities.  Imagine a town under martial law.  Now imagine that town swelling to 6 times its normal size. Military patrol is walking up and down the streets, looking for reasons to keep order.  Perhaps looking for any reason to show how they keep order.  

There could very well have been many people in Jerusalem during Passover that were looking toward this time as an opportunity for revolution.  There could very well have been many in the crowd thinking this ‘messiah’ was the guy to lead the revolution.  In fact, that’s what they were shouting.  The word ‘Hosanna’ seems like a word of praise, like “Hurray” or “Praise God!”  I’m not sure why this word is left in Hebrew, rather than be translated into it’s actual definition, which is “Save Us”.  The crowds were literally shouting, “Save Us, Son of David” – King David being their last great ruler.  In a fit of ethnic pride and patriotic determination that they would someday have self-rule, these people were calling on one they believed to be descended from a great warrior to free them from yet another near-slave situation.

In the time of the national celebration and calls for freedom, in an extra-crowded city, it’s pretty likely that Pilate would be coming into town with an extra show of force, lest anyone get the idea of overthrowing the current ruling regime.  It was likely he rode in atop a warhorse, flanked by armed soldiers and whatever else he needed to be intimidating.

In the midst of this, Jesus goes into Jerusalem.  Knowing it was dangerous, knowing it was deadly even – he does it anyway.  He set his face like flint and volunteered himself to his enemies. Last week, in the story of Lazarus’ Resurrection, we see that even Thomas knows it is a death sentence. That’s because Jesus has already committed a crime against the state.  Jesus may be completely innocent as a man.  But when Jesus began proclaiming the kingdom of God – rather than the kingdom of Caesar – he was committing a subversive act against Rome.  Those proclamations about the Kingdom of God may even be empowering to the zealots in Jerusalem who are eager for a revolution, a violent overthrow of Rome.  Some may see his proclamations as evidence that God is just about to return them to the seat of power, through force.

It’s a common human trait to think of force as the easy solution.  We are fed this in our films and fiction all the time – movies like Die Hard, or the Bourne Identity series, or authors like James Patterson or Clive Connelly.  The good guys come with force, knock out all the bad guys, and the day is saved.  And it’s very seductive to think that all we have to do is take power.  All we have to do is show overwhelming force. 

But God shows us that this is not the way.

Jesus enacts his plan to enter Jerusalem, and prescribes where and when to find his preferred method of entry.  Now, it’s hard to imagine in the era of books and the internet, Jesus lives in a time when all the stories of the culture were passed down in words.  And people knew them by heart.  So, when Jesus commands the disciple to find a foal and a donkey, he intentionally chooses some imagery that people will recognize.  He chooses the messianic story from the prophet Zechariah, when the humble king, a lowly servant, rides in on a donkey.  But it’s not a conquering king coming with an army on a war chariot.  It is a peace-bringing king, arriving on a lowly donkey. In the midst of this, Jesus coming into Town on the humble donkey; on the other side of town, Pilate comes in as the Governor.

It’s almost comic.

With this first step towards the cross, Jesus is telling us that lordship, even messianic lordship, is defined in terms of servanthood, not force.  Jesus will turn people’s expectations on their ear.  Rather than help bring violent revolution, with his actions this coming week, he will show gentleness, humility, peaceableness, mercy, and self-giving acts of generosity and compassion are marks of God’s domain.

The Jesus who enters Jerusalem was and always is a challenge to this world’s powers and sense of order – not merely a spiritual challenge but a political challenge as well.  His cause is not the same as that of the zealots or any violent insurrectionists.  He didn’t come to shepherd in a return to Jewish domination of Jerusalem, to take power or give power to a chosen people.  He didn’t show up with overwhelming force, and make things easy for us.  ‘King Jesus’ is a threat to both the power elite and the fickle multitude, those who would like things to be easy.  Jesus did not intend to leave the ways of the worlds as they were.  He came to change our mindset.

Force does not endure.  What endures is the love God has for us.  What endures is that God stays with us, suffers with us, in solidarity with us, even when it requires facing inevitable violence.  What endures is God’s love that Jesus shows by entering Jerusalem.  What endures is the radical, unbelievable, counterintuitive action of God.  What endures is the cornerstone that the builders had rejected, because the builders didn’t understand the sticking power of love.