a reforming state of mind

John 21:1-19
April 13, 2008
The Fourth Sunday of Easter

Elizabeth and I have this fun and simple game we occasionally play with one another called “How much do you love me?” I’ll begin by saying, “Hey Elizabeth, how much do you love me?” and Elizabeth will reply, “I love you more than all the people in the world who have to scoop up cat litter.” I laugh and then say to her, “That’s a lot of love.” Then Elizabeth will ask, “How much do you love me?” and I’ll say, “I love you more than all the people in the world who get ice-cream headaches.” And she’ll giggle and say, “Wow, that is a lot of love!” Sometimes there’s a twist to the game and Elizabeth will ask me specifically if I love her more than a certain thing. This past Thursday she asked: “Do you love me more than you hate cleaning the bathroom?” And I responded with an emphatic “YES, without a doubt!”

This is, of course, an example of the type of romantic and friendship love Elizabeth and I have shared in our four years of marriage. But the silly banter also points to a deep and abiding love that we’ve been given by God-a love that we’d always choose over any one thing because our relationship is more important and valuable than any of the material possessions we own. We love each other more than the things, and the game Elizabeth and I play is a way of remembering the importance of that love over all else.

Jesus uses the same type of approach with Simon Peter on the shore of the Sea of Tiberius in Galilee. After finishing a breakfast of fish and loaves, Jesus asks Peter, “Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?” Jesus never explains what “these” means. The common theory among scholars is that Jesus is saying, “Do you love me more than these disciples love me?” as a way of determining whether Peter is willing, more than the other disciples, to go the extra mile to create the Church. Going that route, though, raises questions about whether Jesus gave preferential treatment, considered certain disciples to be the greatest among them or thought that those who loved him more would get the most work done. And that doesn’t seem to fit with the Jesus we’ve grown to know earlier in the Gospels-the Jesus who interrupted the disciples’ argument about who was the greatest and explained that the greatest is not the one sitting in a chair of power at the head of a table, but the one who serves.

A more likely interpretation of “these” is the fish. Not the breakfast of fish but rather the big catch of fish that Peter has spent all night looking for and finally receives after Jesus tells him to cast the fishing nets on the right side of the boat. Peter has been a fisherman all his life and never once has he seen so many fish, so many that the nets don’t even break like they should. This is the elusive catch fully realized, the capstone of life-long fishing career. It doesn’t get much better than this for a fisherman, especially a blue collar Jewish one living in Roman occupied Galilee. There’s nothing more for Peter to achieve and that’s when Jesus asks the question, “Do you love me more than these fish you’ve caught, this big catch and this career you’ve had as a fisherman?”

It’s a valid question that Peter seems to have forgotten. Jesus’ fishing tips to Peter and the disciples in the beginning of John 21 alludes to a similar story in the early chapters of Luke’s Gospel. Taking a break from the crowd of people pressing in on him to hear God’s word, Jesus gets into a boat belonging to Simon Peter. He teaches the crowds for awhile and then tells Peter “Put out into deep water and let down your nets for a catch.” Peter answers, “Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing. Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets.” After doing so, Peter and the other fishermen caught so many fish that their nets began to break. They signal to another boat to come and help haul in the fish and after they fill both boats, the vessels start to sink. Upon seeing this amazing sight, Peter falls down at Jesus’ knee and says, “Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!” Jesus says to him, “Do not be afraid; for now on you will be catching people.”

Peter’s new calling is to be a disciple of Jesus and a true fisher of men, of people. And yet according to John’s Gospel, good ole Peter-in the midst of Jesus’ resurrection revealed in two appearances to the disciples-decides he’s going fishing! Peter is going back to the trade he was called away from. The trade in which he previously dropped his fishing gear to follow Jesus.

Peter, however, did stray a bit prior to this encounter with the risen Jesus on the shore of the Sea of Tiberius. Shortly after Jesus was arrested by the Roman authorities, Peter vehemently denied knowing Jesus three times. I imagine when that cocked crowed and Peter realized what he had done, he went away full of sadness and shame. Maybe Peter feels he is no longer worthy to be a disciple and chooses to return to the only thing he knows how to do, which is catch fish.Fortunately it’s not what Jesus wants Peter to do. As a way of testing Peter to see if he can remember his true calling and the deep and abiding love he is to embody, Jesus gently teases the guilt wracked disciple by repeating the question, “Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?”…”Feed my lambs.” New Testament scholar Frances Taylor Gench points out that Jesus’ words are a “blueprint for a vocation in ministry” that are meant for us just as much as they are for Peter:

Matthew 21:1-11

March 16, 2008, Palm Sunday

            I always loved Palm Sunday when I was a kid. An usher would hand all of the children beautiful green palm branches to wave around as we processed into the sanctuary. The middle and high school youth would be ringing hand-bells, the Adult Choir would be singing “Hosanna, Hosanna!” and people would be smiling and saying “Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!”  The festivity filled me with such joy and anticipation that I knew, at just any moment, Jesus would come through the church doors on the back of a donkey, waving and smiling at the folks in the pews.

            The feeling would stick with me all the way through Easter Sunday, which was an even bigger celebration.  As a kid, I didn’t quite understand what was happening to Jesus in between these two Sundays. During my early childhood, it seemed to me that this was one long, happy party for Jesus.  It wasn’t until I was a middle school youth at Shades Valley Presbyterian Church in Birmingham, AL that I discovered my misconceptions about the events during Holy Week.  A deeper understanding of Jesus’ journey into Jerusalem became much clearer while I was playing with my church’s youth hand-bell choir in multiple Palm Sunday worship services at churches in Florida. 

Although I can’t recall the particular songs we played, I do remember that we began each service with a joyful piece and closed each service with a somber one.  And being a youth who was able to pay better attention to the scripture and the sermon, I began to recognize a dramatic change in the story almost immediately after Jesus enters the city. 

            In the NRSV version of Matthew’s Gospel we are told that when Jesus entered Jerusalem, “the whole city was in turmoil asking, ‘Who is this?’   Turmoil is a weak translation of the Greek verb seio which actually refers to the action of an earthquake.  The corresponding noun seismos (which is where we get the word seismic as in the seismic waves that cause earthquakes) is used by Matthew in 8:24 (Jesus’ calming of the sea); 27:54 (Jesus’ crucifixion) and 28:2 (Jesus’ resurrection) to indicate a supernatural event.  “Perhaps,” says New Testament scholar Douglas Hare, “Matthew means to suggest that the holy city is shaken to its foundation by the arrival of the Lord’s Anointed.”

Shane Claiborne and Chris Haw, in their new book Jesus For President, remind us that the time of Passover, in which Jesus rides into Jerusalem on a donkey, was historically troublesome:

It was an anti-imperial Jewish festival “during which the Jews celebrated their ancestors’ coming out of Egyptian slavery. With Roman soldiers lining the street, Jews gathered and waved palm branches, symbols of resistance to the empire. Passover was a volatile time, often marked by riots and bloodshed. (Recall that Herod of Antipas killed thousands of Jews in the streets at the festival.) When Jesus rode a donkey into the festival, it was a lampoon, like street theater at a protest. Scholars call it the anti-triumphal entry into Jerusalem. Imagine the president riding a unicycle in the Fourth of July parade. Kings did not ride donkeys. They rode mighty war horses accompanied by an entourage of soldiers. So here is Jesus making a spectacle of violence and power, riding in on the back of an ass. (And a borrowed one at that!)

Some of you may recall a sermon Pastor Mike preached last year on Palm Sunday about the two drastically different processions that occurred at the beginning of Passover.  According to scholars Marcus J. Borg and John Dominic Crossan:

One was a peasant process, the other an imperial procession. From the east, Jesus rode a donkey down the Mount of Olives cheered by his   followers. Jesus was from the peasant village of Nazareth, his message was about the kingdom of God, and his followers came from the peasant class…On the opposite side of the city, from the west, Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor of Idumea, Judea and Samaria, entered Jerusalem at the head of a column of imperial cavalry and soldiers. Jesus’ procession proclaimed the kingdom of God; Pilate’s proclaimed the power of empire. The two processions embody the central conflict of the week that led to Jesus’ crucifixion.

Jesus knows the procession and way of Pilate and Herod-men who wield power with riches, weapons and violence.  Jesus and the poor people of Israel have been surrounded by these powers of oppression for most of their lives.  Many people in Israel, including some of the disciples, expected Jesus to follow in the footsteps of the great kings and warriors of Israel by violently overthrowing the Roman Empire.  They expected Jesus to take up the sword like the Jewish priests Judah and Jonathan Macabee who using guerilla tactics led the brutal Maccabean revolt against their Syrian oppressors. Upon victory, the Jewish people under the Macabee brothers cleansed the temple, which had been desecrated by the Syrians and “entered it with praise and palm branches and with harps and cymbals and stringed instruments, and with hymns and songs because a great enemy had been crushed and removed from Israel.”

            There is an expectation placed on Jesus by some of the people of Israel and it is reflected in the Call to Worship liturgy that John, Jesse and Lindsay shared at the beginning of the service: “Why did Jesus want a little colt? The Messiah ought to come to the throne on a mighty war horse! Didn’t he know how ridiculous he looked on the back of that donkey?”

            Jesus didn’t care about looking ridiculous on the back of a donkey. His point was to show that the Roman Empire, King Herod and the religious authorities were the ones who looked ridiculous sitting in self-righteous and oppressive seats of power.  In a scene depicting Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem from the 1999 TV film Jesus, two observers remark “This procession with the palms and Jesus dressed in peasant clothes and riding on the back of a donkey is brilliant! It makes Pilate and Herod look like the asses they really are.” Chuck Campbell, a professor of preaching at Columbia Theological Seminary, reminds us:

Jesus is turning the world’s notions of power and rule and authority on their heads. His theater is a wonderful piece of political satire. In his triumphal entry, Jesus lampoons all the powers of the world and their pretensions to glory and dominion, and he enacts an alternative to the way of the Domination System. He comes not as one who lords his authority over others but as one who rejects domination and comes as a servant. He comes not with pomp and wealth but as one identified with the poor. He comes not as a mighty warrior but as one who refuses to rely on violence. Jesus enacts the subversive, nonviolent reign of God in the midst of the city.

Take a closer look at Matthew’s account of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem and we discover that Jesus planned every detail:

When they had come near Jerusalem and had reached Bethpage, at the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two of his disciples, saying to them, “Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately you will find a donkey tied, and a colt with her; untie them and bring them to me. If anyone says anything to you, just say this, “The Lord needs them.” And he will send them immediately. This took place to fulfill what had been spoken through the prophet…The disciples went and did as Jesus directed them; they brought the donkey and the colt, and put their cloaks on them, and he sat on them. A very large crowd (which some scholars believe are the peasant farmers and poor who live outside the city) spread their cloaks on the road, and others cut branches from the trees and spread them across the road (as opposed to soldiers who would raise swords when a king or ruler would ride into city on a war horse).

Laurel Dykstra, a columnist for Sojourners magazine and a veteran street theater protest performer, reflecting on Matthew’s account, explains:

The movement described is complex; there is collaboration between the out-of-towners and the local resistance community. The political action is planned to coincide with a time when imperial power is blatant and feelings of resistance are high. The protest tools are low-tech and readily available, and the demonstration design is inclusive and participatory-there is no “audience.” Large numbers serve as security and protection for those who are identified and targeted as leaders.

            When Jesus rides into the city on a donkey, he turns the world’s notions of power and rule and authority on their heads. Jesus shakes the powers, the Domination System to its very core like an earthquake-shakes away the pretensions and reveals nothing but deceit, malice, and ugliness. And Jesus exposes the powers today just as he did in Israel.  Riding into the city on a donkey, he lampoons the powers of the current Domination System in this world. Powers like:

The large gas-guzzling vehicles that roll into downtown cities with music blasting and bumper stickers that read-”You can pry this gun… from my cold bear hands.”

The shoppers who push and punch at one another in a shopping mall to get the latest $1,000 fad.

Governments who severely beat Tibetan monks with clubs and rifles

The media (both liberal and conservative) that utter sharp words of hate and prejudice toward those who are black, immigrant, gay, lesbian and poor.

Agencies who still haven’t provided  the lower class and pour with resources to return to a city once devastated by flood.

The Christian men in high-powered business suits on Capitol Hill who support the torture of other men and women.

            Riding in on a donkey, Jesus reveals the ugly deceit and treachery of the powers.   And this idea of street theater, of lampooning the powers, the Domination System has been passed down from every generation since.  The tradition is very much alive today.  Consider the 1970s Jesus musicals Jesus Christ Superstar and Godspell which truly embody the type of lampoon Jesus enacted in his entry into Jerusalem.  In Superstar, Herod is depicted as this sleazy king of porn films who wears tight leather pants, and big yellow tinted sunglasses.  And in Godspell, Jesus has a painted clown face and the disciples where these colorful clown-like clothes to show what a bunch of clowns Pilate, Herod and the powers are.

            In recent years street theater has been performed by the rock band U2 who in their 1997 Popmart Tour, recently released on DVD,  design the concert stage to look like a shopping mall with one-half of a very familiar golden arch and other thinly disguised commercial logos. As a U2 biographer notes:

U2’s latest mission…was to erect the cathedrals of today’s religion, expose its emptiness, and then try to dig deep down somewhere for Jesus in the midst of it all…Christianity had become commercialized on many levels, and Bono may have been turning over the tales of various modern Christian temple courts.

Street theater is all around. Anytime you pick up a newspaper or surf the Internet or turn on the TV and see a protest, there is usually a colorful act of street theater occurring in the midst-a lampoon of the powers, the Domination System.   A friend of mine recently shared a poem he wrote about members of the Ku Klux Klan who gathered last May in front of the courthouse in downtown Knoxville, Tennessee to spew their hatred.  It seemed that once again racism would fill the air of that spring day until another costumed group known as the Coup Clutz Clowns appeared:

The day was bright and sunny as most May days tend to be
In the hills of Appalachia down in Knoxville, Tennessee
The men put on their uniforms and quickly took their places
In white robes and those tall and pointed hoods that hid their faces

Their feet all fell in rhythm as they started their parade
They raised their fists into the air, they bellowed and they brayed
They loved to stir the people up, they loved when they were taunted
They didn’t mind the anger, that’s precisely what they wanted

As they came around the corner, sure enough, the people roared
They couldn’t quite believe their ears, it seemed to be - support?
Had Knoxville finally seen the light, were people coming ‘round?
The men thought for a moment that they’d found their kind of town

But then they turned their eyes to where the cheering had its source
As one their faces soured as they saw the mighty force
The crowd had painted faces, and some had tacky clothes
Their hair and hats outrageous, each had a red foam nose

The clowns had come in numbers to enjoy the grand parade
They danced and laughed that other clowns had come to town that day
And then the marchers shouted, and the clowns all strained to hear
Each one tuned in intently with a gloved hand to an ear

“White power!” screamed the marchers, and they raised their fisted hands
The clowns leaned in and listened like they couldn’t understand
Then one held up his finger and helped all the others see
The point of all this yelling, and they joined right in with glee

“White flour!” they all shouted and they felt inside their clothes
They pulled out bags and tore them and huge clouds of powder rose
They poured it on each other and they threw it in the air
It got all over baggy clothes and multi-colored hair

All but just a few of them were joining in the jokes
You could almost see the marchers turning red beneath white cloaks
They wanted to look scary, they wanted to look tough
One rushed right at the clowns in rage, and was hauled away in cuffs

But the others chanted louder marching on around the bend
The clowns all marched along with them supporting their new friends
“White power!” came the marchers’ cry - they were not amused
The clowns grew still and thoughtful; perhaps they’d been confused?

They huddled and consulted, this bright and silly crowd
They listened quite intently, then one said “I’ve got it now!”
“White flowers!” screamed the happy clown and all the rest joined in
The air was filled with flowers, and they laughed and danced again

“Everyone loves flowers! And white’s a pretty sort!
I can’t think of a better cause for marchers to support!”

“White Power!” came their marchers’ cry, quite carefully pronounced
The clowns consulted once again, then a woman clown announced
“I’ve got it! I’m embarrassed that it took so long to see
But what these marchers march for is a cause quite dear to me!”

“Wife power!” she exclaimed and all the other clowns joined in
They shook their heads and laughed at how mistaken they had been
The women clowns were hoisted up on shoulders of the others
Some pulled on wedding dresses, “Here’s to wives and mothers!”

The men in robes were angry and they knew they’d been defeated
They yelled a few more times and then they finally retreated

And what would be the lesson of that shiny southern day?
Can we understand the message that the clowns sought to convey?
Seems that when you’re fighting hatred, hatred’s not the thing to use
So here’s to those who march on in their massive, silly shoes

            Blessed is Jesus, who marches into Jerusalem not with pomp and wealth but as one identified with the poor. Blessed is Jesus who comes not as a mighty warrior but as one who refuses to rely on violence. Blessed is Jesus who enacts the subversive, nonviolent reign of God in the midst of the city. Blessed are we who are invited to foolishly follow him!

Amen!

Sources:

Jesus For President by Shane Claiborne and Chris Haw, 2008

The Last Week: What the Gospels Really Teach About Jesus’ Final Days in Jerusalem by Marcus J. Borg and John Dominic Crossan, 2006

1 Maccabees 4:36-40 and 2 Maccabees 10:1-9

Sojourners: Faith, Politics and Culture, “Word on the Street: Street Theater” by Laurel A. Dykstra, March 2008

The Word Before the Powers: An Ethic of Preaching by Charles L. Campbell, 2002

Walk On: The Spiritual Journey of U2 by Steve Stockman, 2005

Excerpts from “White Flour” a poem by folk musician David LaMotte (http://www.davidlamotte.com/) May 26, 2007

Today’s scripture reading from the Gospel of John, in which Jesus and Nicodemus discuss how a person is born, seems fitting when one considers that we are in the midst of a season of births in the church community. Over the past month, three babies have been born to members of the church’s staff—our administrative assistant Tabatha Stokes; one of our nursery attendants Elizabeth Outhwaite, and our organist William Mennell. And there is still one more baby on the way, a girl due in early June, who my wife Elizabeth and I are very eager to meet.

            The birth of a baby is a great joy—a wonderful celebration and witness to the goodness of God’s creation, to God’s miraculous gift of life in the flesh. We know this truth very well. We also know and understand the natural process of how a birth occurs. We know how a baby develops and grows, eventually becoming an adult who understands who they are and where they came from as human beings.  Birth and growing is common knowledge. Most people know and can explain about birth without having to bat an eyelash.

We know about the creation of life so well that when many folks hear the phrase “born again” they become a bit confused: Huh? What do you mean, born again? Even many thoughtful Presbyterians will hear the phrase “born again” and immediately start thumbing through the Biology and Reformed notebooks in their heads: Wait a minute, we’re only born once. It’s not physically possible to be born twice out of our mother’s womb. And according to our faith, we believe that God creates us once, gives us the gift of baptism, a sign that we belong to God and have been born into God’s family, once. Those fundamentalist TV preachers are always saying that a person, even a devout Christian, has to be “born again” to rightly receive God’s love. That’s nonsense.

            It’s a valid point. “Born again” stirs up some confusion and is ultimately misinterpreted or blatantly ignored. Brian McClaren, an evangelical pastor in D.C. and the best-selling author of The Secret Message of Jesus tells us:

Born anew or born again…is another frequently misunderstood phrase, one that many people make equivalent to saying a prayer at the end of a booklet or tract, or having an emotional experience at the end of a church service. It often signifies a status achieved through some belief or experience, so that it become an adjective: “I’m a born-again Christian.” But it’s clear that Jesus isn’t talking about a religious experience or status Nicodemus needs to acquire like some sort of certification. No, Jesus is saying, “Nicodemus…if you’re coming to me hoping to experience the extraordinary life to the full…you are going to have to go back to the very beginning. You’re going to have to become like a baby all over again, to unlearn everything you are already so sure of, so you can be retaught.”

That is a daunting command for Nicodemus when you consider that he is a respected Jewish teacher and leader in the city of Jerusalem. As a Pharisee, he is well known for obeying the Law to every detail and for admirably trying to understand how best to apply the Law in each situation of life. To unlearn everything he has been so sure of since birth, and again become like a child who has to be retaught, seems unreasonable. But if Nicodemus truly wants to follow Jesus and understand what it means to live in God’s kingdom, then he must re-examine everything he knows about the world and system he lives in.

Nicodemus is part of a system that holds the law over doing what is just, such as feeding the hungry on the Sabbath.  He and the Pharisees follow the rules so tightly that they ignore the hungry, the sick, the lonely and those suffering physically and financially under the Roman Empire’s thumb.

Even though Nicodemus has seen the way Jesus is subverting the system through signs and miracles, he comes to Jesus at night feeling pretty good about his position in the world and confident that he knows Jesus is a fellow colleague called by God. So Nicodemus initially says to Jesus, “Rabbi, we all know that you are a teacher straight from God. No one could do all the God-pointing, God-revealing acts you do if God weren’t in on it.”  Nicodemus’ words are true and grounded in the knowledge of his own faith. His expectation of how Jesus would respond, however, is false.

Nicodemus expects Jesus to praise him for such a statement, which would give the Pharisee and staunch law abider the satisfaction of being right. Instead, Jesus challenges Nicodemus by pushing him to look past the simple statement to gain a deeper understanding of his faith, of what God is doing in Christ. He tells Nicodemus that he is much more than just another teacher and miracle worker sent by God to talk about God’s kingdom. Jesus tells Nicodemus that he is God in the flesh, dwelling among human beings so that God’s kingdom of love and mercy may be established in the world.

The kingdom of God is a different world, an alternative reality, time and way of living that exceeds all human understandings of linear time that carries us somberly from point A to point B to point C and so on—that measures life and individual performance on how one successfully obeys all of the laws and customs to move from one point to the next.

For human beings to live in the kingdom as God’s alternative from this world, one must recognize that in addition to being born of flesh from their mother’s womb, they are born “from above/again” by the pneuma, the Greek word for “Spirit” of God; also translated as the “wind” and “breath” of God.  And living by the Spirit means we allow ourselves to be blown this way and that with “no idea where it comes from or where it’s headed next.” Living in God’s kingdom by God’s Spirit means we have to let God show them how to truly live a life that is free from the things that drag folks selfishly from point A to point B without ever recognizing their neighbor.

Nicodemus is very puzzled by this idea of letting go of what he has known and learned. He doesn’t understand this new way of living and understanding one’s identity and purpose by God in the Holy Spirit. Dr. Laura Mendenhall, the president of Columbia Theological Seminary, shares some insight on Nicodemus’ situation in a sermon she preached in 2000. She says:

Nicodemus wants to line up proofs and arguments in order to arrive at a clear conclusion and thereby become a believer. Nicodemus assumed that this was how faith is born and sustained…Jesus told Nicodemus that faith is born of the Spirit, a Spirit that blows like the wind, blows where it chooses…. Jesus told Nicodemus that life in God’s kingdom cannot be earned or achieved. One is simply born into God’s kingdom and living in the Spirit cannot be controlled, charted or calculated. All of this was very confusing to Nicodemus who only knew how to trust in the security of the rituals, doctrines and moral instruction of the synagogue.

The same is true for many of us. We hold very tightly to the arguments, rules, regulations and self-serving philosophies that make us so certain that we deserve a higher status and reward in life than our neighbors. Like Nicodemus, we have to become like a baby all over again, to unlearn everything he is already so sure of, so he can be retaught.

Jesus’ challenge to re-examine how we’ve lived out our worldly births and to live instead in a kingdom of God as a new people born of the Spirit is not something the theologian Justo Gonzalez says we must take seriously:

What we must do is to take the new birth very seriously, and to be ready, not only to accept the new life that God offers, but also to leave behind the old life that God rejects. To be born anew is not simply a matter of changing a few things that are obviously wrong in our lives, and then keep on with the rest as if nothing else has changed. To be born again is to begin anew…To be born again is to put all thing at God’ disposal, so that God will do with them as God pleases…The promise of new birth is true and dependable. There is no need to remain enslaved by our past. And the promise of new birth is also a challenge and a demand.

Living into the promise of new birth is much more than just filing into the sanctuary to sit in a pew week after week to offer prayers, say all the right words and sing the favorite hymns. Doing all of those rituals is an important part of what we do to show our love to God, but doing them consistently and correctly is not what makes us loving and faithful Christians or members of God’s kingdom. No, it is the Spirit of God who breathes in us that makes us disciples and stewards of God’s kingdom. It’s not about being born right but rather, in the words of the singer/songwriter Paul Simon, it’s about being “born at the instant the church bells chime and the whole world whispering born at the right time”—God’s time. When we recognize that we are born to live in God’s time, things start to change. God’s kingdom, God’s alternate way of living in the world becomes much clearer.

Laura Mendenhall tells us that “when Nicodemus began to allow himself to be born of the wind, things changed for him.” Throughout the rest of John’s Gospel, Nicodemus stands up for Jesus, publicly speaks out against his fellow Pharisees and friends who judge and criticize Jesus and his ministry. After Jesus’ death on the cross, Nicodemus helped prepare the body for burial. Nicodemus chooses to confront the brutal and oppressive system of Jesus’ day. Nicodemus chooses to live differently from the world by living into God’s kingdom through the Spirit. “Nicodemus,” Mendenhall says: “was no longer intimidated or afraid. Nicodemus had come to realize that he was born from above not by his own doing but by the love of God who birthed him anew and gave him a life of boldness.”

            Understanding that we are born of the Spirit for the purpose of living a life of boldness in God’s kingdom (a world different from our own) is the challenge and the demand that each of us face everyday. It’s a challenge that is very similar to the one faced by Denzel Washington’s character Joe Miller in the 1993 film Philadelphia.  The critically claimed movie is about a young gay lawyer named Andrew Beckett who is after being infected with AIDS, is fired from his law firm in fear that they might contract AIDS from him. In a last attempt for justice, Andrew sues his former law firm with the help of a tenacious and successful lawyer, Joe Miller—who also happens to be a staunch homophobe. Joe follows the rules of society, of the world very closely when it comes to AIDS. Joe believes without a doubt that he can contract AIDS germs simply by shaking Andrew’s hand or breathing the same air—a common belief back in the early days of the disease.

During the court battle, Miller sees that Beckett is no different than any other human being on the gritty streets of the city of brotherly love. Joe eventually sheds his homophobia and helps win the case before AIDS overcomes Beckett. The scene of transformation, the moment in which Joe finally lets go of his prejudices and certitudes about others, is breath-taking. It’s late at night. Joe and Andrew are going over the case in Andrew’s loft apartment. The beautiful sounds of an Opera are playing on the stereo. Joe begins talking about strategy for the trial when Andrew stops him and says:

 This is my favorite aria. Andrew stands up and clutching to his IV pole, the pale faced and graying young man shuffles to the center of the room …This is “Andrea Chenier” by Umberto Giordano, he says to Joe. This is Madeleine (singing). She’s saying how during the French Revolution, a mob set fire to her house, and her mother died… saving her. “Look, the place that cradled me is burning,” Andrew’s shuts his eyes and clenches his fist as if to emulate the French woman and says achingly, Can you hear the heartache in her voice? Can you feel it, Joe? Joe nods. His eyes are fixated upon Andrew who is expressing his suffering through the aria.

Andrew, his eyes still shut, smiles and he begins again to describe the music and translate the words: In come the strings, and it changes everything. The music fills with a hope, and that’ll change again. Listen… listen…”I bring sorrow to those who love me.” Oh, that single cello! “It was during this sorrow that love came to me.”

Joe’s eyes water. Andrew’s smile seems to cover his entire face, which is now suddenly bathed in this illuminating orange-red light from the fireplace. Andrew continues speaking, his clinched fist raised high in the air: A voice filled with harmony. It says, “Live still, I am life. Heaven is in your eyes. Is everything around you just the blood and mud? I am divine. I am oblivion. I am the god… that comes down from the heavens, and makes of the Earth a heaven. I am love!… I am love.”

The music ends. Joe tells Andrew goodbye and quietly goes home. Upon arriving at his house, Joe picks up his sleeping 7-month-old daughter, hugs her and says, “I love you.” And then he crawls into bed, fully clothed, wraps his arms around his wife and he lies there, his eyes wide open; tears streaming down his cheeks.

Joe Miller finally understands and recognizes what it means to be born of the Spirit for the purpose of living in and for God’s kingdom. Joe knows that allowing himself to be born of the Spirit means he is allowing himself to see the love of Christ Jesus in the face of Andrew Beckett, the other. Joe is no longer enslaved by his past bigotry toward the people that the world told him to fear and hate. Instead Joe has allowed the Spirit to guide him to live his life treating others with loving mercy. Joe knows that he wasn’t born to always be right, but he was born for the right time, for God’s time, God’s reality, God’s kingdom.

My hope during this time of Lent, this time of self-examination, is that we allow Jesus to challenge us to go deeper with our faith—to ultimately unlearn and let go of every selfish certitude we have about ourselves and others. My hope is that we live as those born for the right time of God, as those who are born from above/again by the Spirit, and who trust in that wind of God to show us a new way of living in the love of Christ Jesus, who continues to point us in the direction of the kingdom. 

Amen.

Sources:

“The Secret Message of Jesus: Uncovering The Truth That Could Change Everything” by Brian McLaren, 2006

“Born of the Wind” sermon by Dr. Laura Mendenhall, June 18, 2000

“Three Months With John” by Justo L. Gonzalez, 2005

“Philadelphia” starring Denzel Washington and Tom Hanks, 1993

Sunday Jan. 20 Sermon, Psalm 130 and Matthew 11:1-6, Race Relations Sunday and Christian Unity Week

Shortly after the New Year, a Elizabeth and I and a group of college students from the church joined 800 people at the Montreat Conference Center in North Carolina for the 2008 College Conference: Hope Has a Voice.  During the opening session, the lights were turned down and a video began to play of various news clips about genocide in Darfur, refugees in Sudan, the victims of war in Iraq and in the final scene an NBC reporter uttering the words “hopeless.” The screen faded to black and the word “hopeless” in white lettering appeared. Then the “less” flickered away leaving only the “hope.” A few seconds later “hope” was joined by the words “has a voice.” And then questions flashed across the screen: Have you ever wondered…

How could this happen?

Why is there such injustice?

When will there be peace?

Do I make a difference?

Where is the church?

Where is Jesus today?

Where is Jesus today?

Where is Jesus today?

With the final question imprinted on our brains, the video ended, an opening prayer was given and the lights slowly came back on.  A group of students from Virginia Tech and their pastor Alex Evans of the Blacksburg Presbyterian Church, walked up to the stage to lead us in worship and to reflect on that terrible day last April when a young man’s shooting rampage on Virginia Tech’s campus claimed 32 lives.  Evans, a chaplain for the Blacksburg Police Department who helped identify bodies and notify families at the local hospital, addressed the Montreat crowd by saying, “We are called to be a people of hope, and hope often comes from the deep hurting places. Hope is the essence of life. It’s the stuff that we struggle with. It’s where God always calls us to be.” 

Two video presentations of the April 16 tragedy followed and then some of the Virginia Tech students spoke about the chaos and agony of that day. Afterwards, Evans opened a Bible and explained how this book is filled with people who struggle with hope and hopelessness in their daily lives. He said we in our struggles are called to add our voices—our questions about injustice and pain and faith—to the voices in scripture who cry out to God and who pray for peace to end the suffering.  Hope has a voice, Evans said, and it’s you; it’s your voices joining the voices of those in scripture and God’s voice.

 Many of us here today know what it’s like to cry out for hope from the deep hurting places.  We hear our voices echoed in the words of the psalmist in Psalm 130 who cries:

Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord.

Lord, hear my voice!

Let your ears be attentive to the voice of my supplications!

… I wait for the Lord,

my soul waits and in his word I hope;

My soul waits for the Lord

more than those who watch for the morning…

O Israel, hope in the Lord!

For with the Lord, there is steadfast love,

and with him is great power to redeem.

Thomas Troeger, in a beautiful commentary on the Psalms, reminds us that this hope in the Lord is not the same as other hopes we have in life:

“We hope for so many things in life,” Troeger writes. “We hope it will be a nice day for the picnic. We hope our son or daughter will make it home for Thanksgiving…We hope our candidate will win the election…We hope we will receive a raise. We hope our child will soon get over a pouting moody stage. Is hope in the Lord just one more hope next to all the others we have? No. Hope in the Lord is trusting that behind the universe lies a friendly power who will someday conquer every evil and destructive force…We endure the frustration of our human hopes because we draw strength from our more fundamental reliance on God…It is not that our human hopes are wicked or unworthy. They simply lack something. All of them taken together cannot speak to the ‘depths’ of being a person and being estranged from the source of existence. Prayer is facing up to the inadequacy of our everyday hopes. It is crying out of the depths and finding a hope that that keeps life from overwhelming us.

Troeger’s interpretation of “hope in the Lord” is reflected in a message I received this week from a high school senior, one of several church members who were asked to describe what God’s hope looked like to them.  The youth said: 

“Hope is knowing that there is some greater existence than humans themselves. However it is left up to us to believe in God and to know that He will help pull us through anything, good or bad. Hope can look like anything, you just have to allow yourself to see it.”

Seeing hope appears to be the focus of today’s Gospel reading from Matthew 11:1-6.  In prison for angering King Herod, John the Baptizer, who baptized Jesus in the Jordon River, hears the wide-spread news about his cousin’s ministry.  Wanting to know more about Jesus’ identity, John sends two of his disciples to ask Jesus this question: “Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?” And Jesus replies: “Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them.”

John’s question is kind of peculiar considering that he was there in the Jordon River when the heavens opened up and the Spirit of God descended upon Jesus like a dove and a voice from heaven said, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”  Doesn’t John know that Jesus is the one who has come? Maybe as time went by in his prison cell, John lost hope that life was going to change. Jesus wasn’t outside the prison with protestors demanding his release or ripping apart the steel bars to free his cousin.  Maybe John doubted Jesus was the Messiah he had been preaching about for years in the wilderness.  Whatever the reason, John’s not so sure who Jesus is at this point in the gospel. John is in a hopeless situation and yet he is unable to see the hope much less cry out for it.  

That’s exactly why Jesus tells John’s disciples, “Go and tell John what you hear and see.” Jesus, God in the flesh Immanuel, the embodiment of hope itself, wants to give hope to John who is hopeless. Jesus wants John to hear and see the hope of God that is happening outside the walls of John’s prison, that is bigger than John’s own existence.

Jesus says, “Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised and the poor have good news brought to them.”  Jesus doesn’t describe something that is going to happen. He is telling John and us what is happening! Jesus is saying, you want to see hope. Look. Listen. Here it is everybody. Oppressed and mistreated people are being lifted out of the deep hurting places by the unconditional love of God who is within me. That is hope, hope in the Lord!

Seeing hope is what ultimately helps us and others crawl out of the deep hurting places. Consider for a moment the life of author and humanitarian Ishmael Beah who shared with the conference participants his story of being swept up into the vice of hopelessness, death and destruction of Sierra Leone’s Civil War in the 1990s. 

At the age of 12, Ishmael life changed in a heartbeat when attacking rebels ravaged his hometown and the countryside.  One minute he and his friends are on their way to perform some popular American rap songs at a talent show in a nearby town, and the next minute they are dodging bullets and explosions; watching neighbors fall to the ground; hearing the news that their families were dead, and witnessing gruesome acts of human violence on men, women and children.  One minute happy without a worry in the world. And the next minute, these teenage boys were scared and hungry and worried what would happen to them.

By thirteen, Ishmael had been recruited by the Sierra Leone’s government army to fight the rebels. Soon he was toting an AK-47, taking drugs forced on him by his superiors and wandering around with a band of trained teen and pre-teen killers, killing any person in sight.  Ishmael doesn’t recall how many people he killed over the next two years because he had become a “brutal killing machine.”

And yet even in the midst of that hopelessness and the deep hurting places, Ishmael saw glimpses of hope.  “One of the things I learned as a kid when dragged into war as a child soldier, was the strength of the human spirit, and the strength of the human spirit to find hope even in hopelessness itself,” Ishmael told the audience at the conference. “We would go days and days without food. When we could find an orange or some other scrap of food, that gave us hope. It helped us keep running away from the war.”

At 16, Ishmael was removed from the fighting by UNICEF and through the help of the staff at his rehabilitation center, Ishmael learned how to forgive himself, regain his humanity and to heal from the terrors of war.  Ishmael’s rehabilitation, however, wasn’t easy nor did it happen quickly.  

Being removed from the fighting was traumatic for Ishmael because it was the only life he had known for three years and it marked the second time he had lost “a family.” And rehabilitation meant that Ishmael had to endure withdrawals from drugs and violence. As a result, Ishmael and others like him, lashed out at the UNICEF workers who were trying to help.

Ishmael recalled a particular UNICEF worker and nurse named Esther who overwhelmed him with care at the center. “I tried to tell her the most horrible stories, so she would be afraid of me but that just made her more curious and wanting to be closer to me.”   Reflecting further on the UNICEF workers, Ishmael said, “Their willingness to see us as children even though we had become such horrible people—that changed me. We would bite staff members and stab them. They would come back with bandages and the first thing they would say was, “It’s not your fault. Have you had any food today?”

The UNICEF workers were willing to see Ishmael and the other boy soldiers not as condemned killers but as precious and beloved children of God.  The UNICEF workers were shining examples of hope—of what can be seen, is being seen and will be seen of God’s loving and merciful work in the world.

Another church member, a devoted mom and wife, responding to the question of what God’s hope looks like said:

“Having and expressing hope gives us a way of seeing the future in a positive way, to lift our spirits in the darkest times, to be optimistic, to HOPE for how we would like things to be. But the real power of hope is that it can spur us into personal positive action…I believe that hope empowers us to rely on ourselves and others. Through the gift of hope, God has given us personal strength and direction.”

God gives us strength and direction to HOPE for how we would like things to be.  The UNICEF workers didn’t toss Ishmael Beah aside or give up on the rehabilitation of those child soldiers as their country of Sierra Leone did. The UNICEF workers saw a different reality—God’s reality of what the world could and should be. They became the eyes and voices of God’s HOPE.

We are called to be the eyes and voices of hope, to go and tell others what we’ve seen and heard!  And what we’ve seen of God’s HOPE might not be as dramatic as what the UNICEF workers’ saw or what the residents of Blacksburg, Virginia saw. But there are things to be seen and heard, to be witnessed and spoken about God’s HOPE that is in the here and now. You can even do it while you’re working the drive-thru at Chick-Fil-A as one member, a college student, shared with me when asked what hope looked like to him. The student said he felt happy the entire day he took orders for the drive-thru:

 “It showed in the way I talked to the customers through the headset. We were laughing and joking around. I’d take their order and tell them the price and they’d drive around to the window to pick up their food and pay. 

“I ended a conversation with one customer by saying, ‘God bless you.’ When the customer drove up to the window, he asked another employee to get my attention. I came over and the customer said, ‘I don’t know if I heard right, but did you say ‘God bless you’ when we finished talking?’ I said ‘Yes,’ and the customer replied, ‘Thank you so much. You never know when someone needs to hear that and I needed to hear that today.’

“I guess the customer was going through something in his life that day and by me saying ‘God Bless you’, he realized that he could turn to God or be reminded him that God will help him pull through…We can give hope to people…God was working through me that day to show someone HOPE!!!”

There is much HOPE to be seen in this world that we live in. God is doing amazing things and God is calling us to be a part of them. Jesus says, Go and tell what you see and hear: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised and the poor have good news brought to them.  

Let us respond to our calling to be the eyes and voice of God’s HOPE in the world, to help make the world the place God intends it to be. As another church member and college student put it, “God doesn’t ask us to sit around waiting for things to be done. We are supposed to get up and confront the problem at hand and in doing so hope is created. Going out and doing what needs to be done gives hope for the world and ourselves.”

The great Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., who we remember and celebrate this weekend for how he spent his life confronting the problems at hand once wrote, “If you lose hope you lose that vitality to keep life moving, you lose that courage to be, that quality that helps you go on in spite of all.”

Amen.