The Good, the Bad and the Flock (John 10: 7-16) 4/29/12

            For many years, I labored in my house and yard to make it our home. We planted trees and bushes and flower beds and vegetable gardens. We cleaned gutters and pressure washed and hung birdhouses. We painted and wired and watered and painted again. We created a pet graveyard All those years and all those chores, we tried to involve our children, not only to teach them how to care for and maintain things, but also to give them a sense of ownership. The first part worked well enough, but the second part: forget it! They didn’t see these things as belonging to them, so what they did were just chores.

Now, two of my children are homeowners. What a difference! They are painting and fixing up and doing all those things they learned how to do long ago, but did not like and couldn’t wait to leave behind. Now that they are homeowners themselves, well—that makes all the difference. Pride of ownership. It makes us work very hard without any other motivation than the investment itself. Why is it so hard to find good help? Because help is not a form of ownership.

Shepherds are property owners. Sheep are the property of shepherds and they are even tougher to own than real estate. When you own real estate, you have plumbing to fix and grass to cut and flower beds to weed and gutters to clean. Being a homeowner takes a lot of perseverance keeping up with the maintenance, but no one dies when you don’t get the painting done. When you are a shepherd, the story can be quite different. In the sheep business, a shepherd has not only the elements and the weather and wild animals to contend with; he also has to deal with thieves and robbers.

In the tenth chapter of John, Jesus describes himself as both a door for the sheep and as their shepherd—a good shepherd. People knew exactly what Jesus meant when he described himself as the door to his sheep. In those days, a shepherd would gather his flock for the night. There might have been some sort of enclosure. There would be only one opening and there the shepherd would sleep, so that the only legitimate way in or out was through him.

There are good shepherds and there are bad shepherds. Jesus mentions thieves, robbers and hirelings as examples of bad shepherds. There are thieves and robbers in the religion business too. The only difference is that generally they come well dressed and well rehearsed with a pitch designed to sell their product. In Jesus’ day, they took the form of miracle men and false prophets.

A bad shepherd would allow others to come in or he would run away under threat of danger. In his book While Shepherds Watch Their Flocks, Timothy Laniak gives us this thought to ponder about modern day shepherds: “One of the great ironies in the world of shepherds—whether literal or figurative—is that the best thieves are good shepherds. Not good in the sense that Jesus was. But extraordinarily effective in gaining a following.”

The best “thieves” have always been the most difficult to recognize. They deal in money and power and preach prosperity as a way to draw us into their false gospel. Sometimes they come disguised in the name of this or that brand of politics or this or that brand of freedom. Jesus is the gatekeeper that prevents the entry of these thieves into our churches and homes. He protects us from their influence. If we listen, we will hear his voice above the din of their empty promises.

There is another kind of bad shepherd. He is the hired hand. Usually, he will not defraud or cheat, although sometimes he will steal from his boss. That’s why even today it is not uncommon for an owner to ask for proof of the death of a sheep by showingits hide or some other proof. For these same reasons we should ask our modern day shepherds to be accountable to us for their activities. The hireling will not risk life or limb for his sheep. The hired hand is there for the money and the money is not nearly good enough to make him risk loss. He flees at the sign of danger and the sheep must shift for themselves. The hireling, like the Scribes and Pharisees of first century Israel, is more concerned with his safety and preserving the status quo than he is for those under his charge. The hireling, like some pastors and many leadership boards of churches and corporations, is more concerned with not rocking the boat than with finding a new generation for Christ. It’s bloody and messy to stick around and fight. It’s risky to witness the gospel with no concern for how you might be viewed by strangers or employers. And for what? A few sheep who can’t take care of themselves?

Shepherds don’t think like that. Sheep are their livelihood. As surely as sheep feed the families of shepherds, so do shepherds look after that which brings them their sustenance. The sheep trust their shepherd and the true shepherd will not betray that trust.  A man’s house is his “castle” and the law says he can use even deadly force to defend it. That was the way shepherds looked at their sheep. Twice in this passage Jesus refers to himself as the Good Shepherd. Twice he says to his listeners, “I lay down my life for my sheep.”

Jesus tells us in verse 14 that he knows his sheep and his sheep know him. Just as the sound of the shepherd’s voice was distinctive to his sheep, so is the presence of the Holy Spirit as it guides us through Scripture and the Word proclaimed in the midst of all the voices of would-be wisdom in our world today. He knows us. We are his sheep and he knows us.  We know his voice when we hear it. It is the only voice that we can follow with all our hearts and all our minds and all our souls and all our strength. Our job is to surrender to the leadership of the Good Shepherd and let his voice lead us through the darkness. Knowing him and responding to his voice means that we can follow him, and that we will have the discernment to ignore the false messages in the crowd.  

There are others to come into the flock. Jesus tells us that there are “other sheep not of this fold.” He says that he must bring them also, that they too will listen to his voice, that they too will become part of his flock.  In the first century, that call to other sheep must surely have been to the Gentiles, of whom we are numbered. But what of today? Are there still other sheep? Look at these empty pews and you have your answer. Leave now and go to area restaurants already full and you have your answer. There are still many sheep not of this fold and our Savior wants them all. This is why he came. This is why he trained his disciples. This is why the church witnesses through proclamation of Word and Sacrament in every corner of the world. And to that our Savior says: “So there will be one flock, one shepherd.”       

 There’s an old saying: “We have met the enemy and they are us.” Do we take too much pride in doing things the way they have always been done? Do we feel a little too much ownership in the contributions we make of our time and talents? There’s more than one way to become a wolf or a thief. Dr. Laniak says that “Becoming a wolf only takes a combination of skepticism and time. Values shift almost imperceptibly …Unfortunately, good shepherds sometimes become wolves without realizing their own transformation. They become captive to ideas that they once resisted.” It happened to church leaders in Jerusalem. The religious leaders of Jesus’ day were well meaning but badly misguided men who made some very bad choices. Paul, the greatest church planter of them all, warns his flock in Ephesus to:

Be on guard for yourselves and all the flock…to

shepherd the church of God which he purchased

with his own blood. I know that…wolves will come

in among you, not sparing the flock…and from

among you…men will arise…to draw away the

disciples after them. [Acts 20: 28-31]

It happens today as well. The enemy can be us.  If we settle for watered down theology, we teach what is false. We fleece ourselves. If we do not hear and respond to the distinctive voice of the Good Shepherd, it is we who will take the flock away from the very Owner who commissioned us to pastor or teach or till this great garden of humanity we call the church. As Paul says, it has been bought with a price—the blood of Christ himself.

The Psalmist sings to us:

For he is our God,

and we are the people of his pasture,

and the sheep of his hand. [Psalm 95: 7]

It’s a serious responsibility to be able to keep recognizing the wolves out there—or in here. It is an inconvenient truth that we are our own worst enemy. Only belief in and obedience to Jesus can break that cycle. In a world full of bad shepherds, he is the good one. It takes a priesthood of believers to keep the message clean and clear. But it’s worth it, don’t you think? Jesus sure thought so. He laid down his life…for his sheep.

Living in Philadelphia (1 John 3: 1-17) 4/22/12

            If you stand at the top of the steps leading up to the Philadelphia Museum of Art, you can get a breathtaking view of Benjamin Franklin Parkway and the Center City skyline. Our nation’s first capital, the home of Independence Hall where the Declaration of Independence was signed in 1776, is still quite a great city.  Walk to the bottom of the same steps and you can stand beside a bronze statue of Rocky Balboa—a real life monument to a motion picture hero who is all fiction, the greatest fighter who never was! America. Isn’t it wonderful! Granted, the statue stands at the entrance to an art museum and it is, after all, a piece of art. But we should not ignore the tragic irony that we oftentimes idolize that which is fiction while we reduce to the mundane that which is profound.

           William Penn was granted a charter for the colony of Pennsylvania in 1681. Penn was a Quaker. It is said that he had been subjected to religious persecution. I’m not quite sure how that works. History tells us that King Charles II granted Penn the charter as partial repayment of a debt. I don’t know how much a man is likely to be persecuted when a king owes him. Anyway, Penn named Philadelphia from a Greek compound word: philia, meaning love or friendship, and adelphos, meaning brother or brotherly. So Philadelphia means brotherly love. Not a bad name for a place. The city has more outdoor sculptures, public art and murals than any in the country. Maybe that’s why Rocky can survive long after his retirement from the big screen. Now he’s pop art.

          I don’t know about the persecutions of William Penn, but I do know something about the apostle John. In the first five chapters of Acts, he and Peter are arrested twice, thrown in a public jail, and beaten for their witness. They were charged to maintain silence on threat of death. Their answer was to rejoice “that they were counted worthy to suffer dishonor for the name” [of Jesus Christ] (Acts 5:41). Some sixty years later, the young lion is now a wise old teacher. He is still very much the beloved disciple. John is credited with founding six different churches, one of which was named—you guessed it: Philadelphia. 1 As he writes to the young church, he cautions against false doctrine and watered down theology. John’s theology is always poetic, always penetrating, littered with references to light and the word. In the third chapter of 1^st John, it is written not with layers to be penetrated, but rather with a clean and clear statement of truth. John wants us to live in Philadelphia.      

          Brotherly love. The concept appears early in the Bible. “Am I my brother’s keeper”, asks Cain of God in Genesis 4. And God answers him: “the voice of your brother’s blood is crying to me from the ground.”  Abraham argues with God himself to save Lot and other kinsmen from destruction with the city of Sodom. Judah bargains with his brothers to save young Joseph’s life. Prince Jonathan pledges his loyalty to his friend David and values their friendship over his rights to the throne of Israel. In the 15^th chapter of his gospel, John quotes Jesus: “This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. “Greater love hath no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.” Brotherly love is as big as it gets. Jesus wants us to live in Philadelphia.

           Who is my brother? I have a brother and a sister and I love them. I think I would do most anything for them although I haven’t been tested on that. I don’t think that’s what John was talking about though. Who is my brother? I have a neighbor in his late seventies who has just received an unpleasant diagnosis about his health. He and I talk. He proctors my seminary tests and we sit around the kitchen table. His son recently took his own life. That hurt my friend a lot. So we talk. Who is my brother? I have a former pastor friend who is out of a job right now. She needs the money but she needs the work more. We talk every week. We just check in with each other. Who is my brother? There are three little girls who come to this church now. We found them and they found us when their daddy was dying. The two younger ones like to get a hug from me when they get here. They connect me with their dad in some way that words don’t explain. But hugs do. Who is my brother? He and she fill up the pews of this church every Sunday and their spirit quenches my thirst for brotherly love in a way that I have seldom known.

          There are a number of messages in this passage from 1 John, but the one that grabs me today is verse 11. John says: “For this is the message that you have heard from the beginning, that we should love one another.” Greater love hath no man, said Jesus, and one by one, his disciples laid down their lives for their friend and for the gospel he brought. James was beheaded; Peter was crucified upside down at his own behest. Others were crucified; several more beheaded including Paul, the thirteenth apostle. They saw and believed and understood. They gave their lives in obedience to their belief in the gospel. John was like Chingachgook, the last of the Mohicans. At the end of this wonderful story by James Fennimore Cooper, the great chief buries his son Uncas. He prays to the Great Spirit for his death to come with speed, for all his nation is there at the council table of God waiting for him. Like the Mohican chief, it was John’s fate to be the last man standing, the only one who died from natural causes. John worries about his flock and writes to them to remind them of the great commandment.

          “Whoever does not love abides in death,” says John. He is not equivocal. He does not give alternatives. Live in love, says John, or live in death itself.  Don’t be surprised if the world hates you. People don’t know what to do with people who have their act together. If you love your brother, you will stand out like a sore thumb. If you love your brother, you cannot fail to find God.

          Do you love your brother? Chances are he or she is not your flesh and blood. Chances are she talks too much or his hygiene could use some work. Your brother in God’s kingdom is your fellow man and woman. John will not let us off the hook. He says if we have resources and our neighbor is in need, then to not minister to that need is to close our heart to that person. To do that is to reject the love of God. It is not enough to talk about it. John says that loving God is an action. Love is a deed, not a feeling.  It is the one requirement by which all others are measured. Jesus said it in the gospel of Matthew (22: 39) and we call it the great commandment. John repeats it here in his letter. They were both quoting or paraphrasing the words in Leviticus (18:17) where the Lord spoke to Moses and said:” You shall not hate your brother in your heart, but you shall reason frankly with your neighbor, lest you incur sin because of him...you shall love your neighbor as yourself.” 

          We all need to live in Philadelphia. It is a place, but not only in Pennsylvania. It is a place in our hearts. When we see it for what it should be then we understand why statues are carved, why flags are flown, why sacraments are observed.  They remind us of that to which we aspire, of those whom we would emulate. Living in Philadelphia is living in brotherly love. John’s advice to the church is to live in the love of our fellow man and to let that love rule our hearts. This is the way to Christ. His was the example. Greater love hath no man than to lay down his life…or to live…for his friends.   

1 Foxe, John, Foxe’s Book of Martyrs, Hendrickson Publishers, Inc., 2004, p. 6.      

The Word of Life (1 John 1:1-2:2) April 15, 2012

                                           

I have spent a large portion of my life practicing law. Whether a law practice is built inside the courthouse with complaints and motions and testimony or inside the law office with contracts and affidavits and notary acknowledgments, the idea is the same. Find the truth, define it, corral it, document it and base your conclusions on it.  We are said to be a nation of laws and not of men. The point is that we seek justice blindly in the law without regard to family or influence or color or gender. It often does not happen the way the blueprint reads, but that is the noble intent of our system, however flawed.

The law seeks the truth wherever it may be found. We honor the application of fact to legal principle, so we become fact finders. We get our facts from witnesses of all kinds, be it forensic or eye-witness or ear-witness or circumstantial. It forms a body of evidence from which we form our proofs and upon which we base our conclusions.

In the first century, the early church struggled to find its center and to establish its truths. That struggle would continue for several hundred years. Arguably, it continues to this day. Witness the number of mainline denominations of the Christian church. There are hundreds of offshoots of those denominations. The problem is not new. It existed in John’s day as well. The book of 1 John was written no later than the 90’s AD and almost certainly by the apostle John. At this point, he was much advanced in age, the senior citizen, indeed probably the only one left alive, of the Twelve.

What does the law have to do with our message today from John? John, too, is a truth seeker and he understands that there is only one truth when it comes to Christianity. Where is the truth? John knows and he writes this letter to defend the true faith against a movement called Gnosticism. But first, he must establish his credentials. He says that he has heard, that he has seen with his eyes, that he has looked upon, that he has touched with his hands…the word of life. He had, too. He was one of the first disciples called by Jesus. He was the one who was called the beloved disciple. Yes, he had seen it all, and he had survived it all to his old age.

He had left Jerusalem at some point before the temple was destroyed during the reign of Nero. Now in his old age, he once again writes to proclaim the good news, and he cites his credentials much as a witness would be required to do in a court of law before being allowed to offer testimony as an expert. His is the eye-witness, the ear-witness, even the touch-witness testimony. What he saw, heard and touched, he refers to as the “word of life.” The term is very similar to the description he uses in his gospel to describe Jesus. This is no accident. Almost certainly, the same man wrote both books.

John warns against sin. He writes almost as a grandfather would. He prefaces his remarks with terms like “my little children.” His is a cautionary tale about what the truth really is, but he writes with affection for his audience. His message is all positive. He says he writes “so that our joy might be complete.”

John’s audience was a Christian community that was showing signs of division. Some members, including teachers, had already separated themselves from the others and were in the process of setting up their own religious community (2:19).  Not only that. the ones who had left would not leave well enough alone. They kept trying to get others to follow suit (2:26). The worst of it was that what started out as hypothetical questions had turned into doctrine for the new sect. Chapter 2 of 1^st John is loaded with all the false doctrine emerging. Many of the statements recited there form part of what would come to be called Gnosticism.  Gnosticism saw God as light but rejected Jesus as coming in the flesh, viewing him only as a philosophical concept. They separated spirit from flesh, calling spirit good and flesh bad. This gave them excuses for what they did or did not do with their bodies. They did not view the flesh as anything more than a container for the Spirit.

John realized that this movement was important. He saw that it was spreading and would continue to spread and gain influence. He knew that it was false doctrine and that it must be addressed. And yet as he instructs, he writes kindly as one might to his children. He lifts up rather than scolds. He talks in a very positive manner about reaffirming that body of doctrine which is vital to the Christian community. He proclaims the life, death, resurrection and ascension of Jesus as the foundational features of our faith. He calls Jesus the “eternal life, which was with the Father and was made manifest to us –.”

John goes on to say that Christ is not optional; rather, he is essential. For John and for us, to walk in the way and the light of Jesus is to walk in fellowship with God himself. To walk in any other way is to practice that which simply is not true. He says to the Gnostic position that the body and the spirit are separate and that the spirit is essentially good—that only the blood of Jesus can separate us from our sin. To say that we have no sin is false doctrine and nothing less than the deceit of ourselves. Our bodies and our spirits are inextricably bound together. If it were not so, would our Savior have endured the pain and humiliation of the cross? Of course not. His body and his spirit were bound just as are ours.

Well…that was then and this is now. We are in no danger of such ridiculous notions, right? If that is so, why do we have so many religions, so many denominations? Why do we have schism threatening us right now in our own denomination? Because, as our dear John says to us: “if we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us.”  We do have sin. Only Jesus is without sin. Any creed that teaches otherwise is false doctrine. John’s opponents would claim that their superior spiritual righteousness, obtained through the pursuit of knowledge, left them supposedly pure and without sin. This denial of sin gave them liberty to gossip, to boast, and to engage in all kinds of wrongful behavior because they were now “above” sin. After all, the body is separate from the spirit, right? Wrong! This is not Christian; this is heresy.

Some Gnostic Christians saw the scriptures as irrelevant or at least relative. John points out kindly but clearly that this too is false doctrine, that to deny sin is to deny the witness of both Scripture and the gospel itself. John tells us that if we say we have not sinned, then we make God out to be a liar. We make a mockery of the gospels and the life of Jesus. John testifies again in his old age that Jesus is real, that his life, his death, his sacrifice, his resurrection…are real. John saw it, heard it, touched it. He tells his Christian audience again that the good news is completely and utterly real…that Jesus is the word…the word of life itself.

John reminds us that in this world of facts and figures and science, there is yet another fact…the fact that Jesus came and died and rose and ascended…and did it all for us. John reminds us that no amount of education, no amount of denial and no amount of self delusion can erase the truth that Jesus is who he said and did what he said he would do. Near the end of his life, the beloved disciple reaches out to touch those who are within the sound of his voice and, lucky for us, within the reach of his pen. He does so because of love, the love that Jesus showed to him and taught to him, the love that is still offered to us regardless of our breeding or our opinions or even our stubbornness. “He is the propitiation for our sins, and not for ours only but also for the sins of the world,” says John.

I have a friend and client for whom I care very much. She calls herself Christian but disdains church. I have tried to reach her in a number of ways, but so far, none of the seeds I have sown has taken root to my knowledge. Last week is a good example. I asked her about her Easter Sunday and she shared with me a story of hiding a hundred Easter eggs for grandchildren. She said it helped relieve her stress to see them hunting for the eggs.  I couldn’t help but feel even more frustrated as I listened to her story. Her stress will not get better because she looks for cures within herself. Easter is the greatest day in the life of a Christian, the greatest hope for all mankind. It marks the victory over death and evil. Easter eggs are nice for little children, but Christian adults know where they should be on the day they celebrate our Lord’s resurrection from the dead. Who will teach these children about Jesus if we don’t?  What will remind us of our Savior if we do not fellowship with Christians? Today we run the risk of becoming jaded to the everyday miracles occurring all around us as we seek to confine the Gospel to bite size chunks that suit our appetite. It can’t be done.  Jesus is the word of life.

We are not much removed from those straying Christians of the first century. We all like to play God and make our own rules. John’s lesson today reminds us, his little children, that we should not play with God. There really is only one set of rules, no matter how much we may wish otherwise from time to time. What sets us apart as Christians is not that we do not sin, but that we have an advocate. Our Savior stands in the gap and pays the price for those who believe and repent. We still sin, but we can rest in the promise that both our bodies and our spirits are in his hands. He is faithful. He forgives. He cleanses. This is the truth that John wants his church…and our church…to believe. Jesus is not a concept. He is our Savior and he lives today as he has from the beginning! He is---the Word of Life! 

Have You Seen the Lord? (John 20: 1-18) Easter Sunday 4/8/12

            It was two days later…really the third day if you count the day it happened. Mary came early to the tomb. Not Mary his mother, mind you. She was too exhausted. She would come later. This was Mary of Magdala, the one they called Mary Magdalene. She came with Peter and John and a few other women. She wanted to get there early because there had been so little time to prepare the body before the Sabbath…and there were rumors everywhere about his body being stolen away. She knew there would be guards at the tomb, but guards could be bribed. Besides, she had had almost no sleep the last two days. She might as well go and help. But she, too, was tired; more tired than she could remember. Friday had been so awful. And now it was over. He was gone. They had killed him. The religious leaders and the Romans had gotten together and framed him and killed him and now it was over. She had thought, she really had thought that…oh well, it didn’t really matter now what she had thought. They had crucified him. But she loved him for who he was and for his kindness and caring. The least she could do was to honor his body now. So she went with the others to the tomb, wiping tears away as she went.

As the women neared the tomb, they saw no guards. And even in the dark, they could tell that the stone had been taken away from the tomb. Mary was scared. She had gone on ahead with the women, but now ran back to fetch the others. She knew without seeing and she told them that “they had taken him away, that we do not know where he is.” Peter and John broke into a run. John, younger and smaller, arrived first at the tomb. He looked in and saw only linen cloths. Peter caught up. Never one to stand on ceremony, the impulsive Peter entered the tomb, with John following. The cloths lay there as though their occupant had just gotten up and shed them without movement, as though the body of Jesus had just evaporated out of them. 1 The face cloth lay neatly folded to the side.  John knew. He saw and believed. Without exchanging a word that could be heard, they left and returned home.

          Poor Mary. The men had looked in and confirmed her fears and yet had said nothing to her. In a way she understood. The last two days had seen a lot of silence and the disciples and the faithful had hidden in that upper room, trying to absorb what had happened and what sort of danger they faced. She knew they were confused and scared. Only a few days ago, they all thought they were following the Messiah promised by the prophets. And now…now he was crucified and they were alone again. She had never felt as alone as she did right now. She could not stop crying.

          Mary stooped to look in the tomb. Two angels sat where Jesus’ body had lain. They asked her why she was crying. She repeated her words to the two disciples: “they haven taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.” She turned around and there was another man. He asked her the same thing: “Woman, why are you weeping?” Thinking he was the gardener, she thought maybe he had seen or done something with the body. She asked and he said to her: “Mary.” She turned and this time she saw him. He talked to her, telling her to return and tell the story to the disciples. She went to them declaring “I have seen the Lord.” John leaves the rest to our imagination as he has much more ground to cover. But I linger, thinking about Mary…how her mood, her countenance, her entire life had changed in an instant. “I have seen the Lord,” she said, and for her at that moment, that said it all.

           Have you seen the Lord? I certainly hope so. I have seen the Lord, although I fear I have not seen him nearly as much as he has seen me. He is everywhere and yet more often than not I see only the man in my mirror. I am like Mary of Magdala, so self absorbed, whether it be in my responsibilities or my family or my grief…that I cannot see he who stands in plain view.

          I am not alone. I am in good company. I am joined by churchgoers all over the planet who think God is an hour a week on Sunday morning. I am joined by Pharisees and Sadducees and scribes and high priests and scientists and philosophers and even the great apostle Paul. They all stood and looked either directly at him or at the incontrovertible evidence of him and saw him not.

Have you seen the Lord? I have seen him in the eyes of my wife when she ministered to our children over these many years; children not born of her but no less part of her than if they had come from her own womb. I have seen him in the hands of nursery and childcare workers and teachers and school bus drivers looking after the children in their charge.  I have seen him in the arms of first responders pulling crash victims from harm’s way. I have seen him in the hugs of soldiers and sailors and airmen as they bear hardships together. I have heard him in the same way that Mary Magdalene did in the phrase of a hymn sung in worship. I have felt the warmth of his presence through friends and family and church family. I have seen the Lord and I hope you have too.

          Have you seen the Lord? If you’re not sure, look around. He is sitting in your pew. He is sitting on your lap. He is leaning his head against your hip as he settles in for the message. He is calling to you in these hymns. He is reaching out to you in these Scriptures as though it might be your name he is calling rather than Mary Magdalene. Have you seen the Lord, because if you haven’t, look up. Look here to the cross and see the Lord anew, as if for the first time. To see the Lord means we have to turn away from the tomb. We cannot see him if our eyes are upon the grave, for he is not there. He lives and he stands before us in glory with his hand out, waiting for us to see.

He called her by name and then she saw him. Perhaps it was just the dawn beginning to break. Perhaps it was that she finally cleared her eyes of all the tears. Perhaps it was the sound of the Master’s voice calling her that gave her pause; that made her recognize his face. Whatever it was, she saw him. She saw her Lord and he told her that all the things she had believed were being fulfilled. “Teacher,” she said, in a voice filled with reverence and awe, for, as she put it, “I have seen the Lord.”

I know how she did it, and you do too. It was love. It’s always love. Faith, hope, love, these three, but the greatest of these is love, says the apostle Paul. According to this passage, it was the beloved disciple, whom we identify as John, who first believed when he saw the empty grave clothes of Jesus. It is said that of all those who were privileged to know and love our Savior personally while he walked the earth as a man, perhaps Mary Magdalene loved Jesus more than anyone. It is to her that Jesus made his first appearance after the resurrection. It is Mary who first saw him. 2 It is love which gives us the vision to see him. It is love which he gives to us. It is love, not a Roman soldier, which nailed him to that cross. It is love which sustains us, fulfills us… saves us. Have you seen the Lord? Don’t waste time looking for him in the tomb, for he is not there. Death cannot hold our Lord. He’s waiting for you right here where you are… and he’s calling your name. 

1 William Barclay, John, Vol. 2, The Daily Study Bible Series, p. 266.

2 Ibid, p. 267.

Stooping to Conquer (John 13: 1-17) 4/5/12 Maundy Thursday

                  

In the late eighteenth century, Oliver Goldsmith wrote a play that told of a well connected young woman who assumed the identity of a much poorer maid in order to discern the true intentions of her suitor. The play was called She Stoops to Conquer, and it was the seed for the title of this message. In the thirteenth chapter of John’s gospel, our author shows us a glimpse of the Son of God also assuming a servant state, but what we find of our hero is that it is no pretension. It is, rather, an example of what he expects from us.   

When I was growing up, my parents taught me that it was important to make a good impression on people. They taught me to dress up for a job interview. They taught me to shine my shoes, front and back, to brush my teeth, to comb down my cowlick, square my shoulders, shake hands firmly and to look people in the eye. They taught me that you never get a second chance to make a first impression. Sound familiar?

When someone dies, we dress that person in his or her best Sunday go-to-meetin’ clothes, the nattiest tie, the finest brooch. We have their hair shampooed and styled. In many cases, death is the finest these folks may have dressed in some years.

Men and women come home from deployment or from war and they “stand the rail” as they come into port, always decked out in their “dress whites” or “dress blues,” looking more like they are ready to receive an award than to go home to waiting arms of loved ones.

When we have been somewhere or done something we consider important, we dress the part. When we need to make a big impression, we dress the part. When we are about to propose or retire or go through a job interview or entertain friends, we “put on the dog,” don’t we. We break out the good silverware and china and polish the brass and pewter and go to the beauty shop or the barber. We want to be remembered.

So did Jesus. John tells us that “Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart out of this world to the Father.” All the preparation, all the miracles, all the teaching, and the journeys up and down the dusty roads of Galilee and Samaria and the Decapolis had come down to one last meal, one last night, one great ordeal. Jesus knew all this as he sat among his disciples and dear friends for the last time before his death. It was a time for speeches and toasting. It was a time for dedication. It was a time for dressing up to show the kingly, regal splendor which he had kept under wraps for so long.

His disciples had begun to believe. They had been known to lobby Jesus for position in the coming kingdom. James and John, upon their ambitious mother’s urging, had asked Jesus for favored positions in the new kingdom. In Luke’s gospel, he reports that even on this last night together while reclining at the table, “a dispute also arose among them, as to which of them was to be regarded as the greatest” (Lk. 22:24). 

Amidst this verbal sparring, Jesus rose and shed his outer garments. And then in the most regal humility ever witnessed, the king of all mankind, the savior of all humanity, tied a towel around his waist, knelt down and washed the feet of every soul in the room. That included Judas Iscariot, who only a short time later would be blessed by Jesus to leave and go complete the betrayal of his master. Even Jesus’ betrayer received unconditional love.

Jesus tied a towel around his waist and washed the feet of his friends. He stooped to conquer. His own words in John’s gospel give us his explanation:

For I have given you an example, that you should

also do just as I have done to you…a servant is not

greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater

than the one who sent him. If you know these things,

blessed are you if you do them.” (Jn. 13: 15-17)

Here, John uses the Greek word apostolos for messenger, one of the few times in the New Testament that this word does not mean apostle or disciple. And yet this use offers another message, for an apostle or disciple was and is today a messenger in the same tradition that Jesus came from God to bring the good news. As Jesus was God’s messenger, so too can we be the messengers of Jesus.

This is our example. In only a few short hours, the Son of God would be subjected to humiliation, torture, pain, anguish and even separation from God Himself, all for you and me. On this last opportunity to receive credit for all that he had done and all that he was about to do, instead of taking a bow, he took a knee. Consistent to the end, his example of his priesthood, of his kingship, of his divinity, of his humanity…was servanthood. As we remember Him, celebrate Him and worship Him… think on these things.

Colts and Stones (Mark 11: 1-11) 4/1/12

In 587 BC, after a host of mediocre and bad rulers, Jerusalem and the Southern Kingdom of Israel fell to the Babylonian empire. All of the best and brightest of the nation were transported away from their homes to live out their years in exile. Over sixty years would pass while Jerusalem continued to decay from ruin and neglect. In 538 BC, the famous Edict of Cyrus was released, which allowed the Jews to begin the slow return to their homeland. About 20 years later, the prophet Zechariah began his work for God in the nation of Israel. His name means “God has remembered” and he prophesied to the post-exilic nation of Israel. Some 500 years later, his prophesies would come true in a rebuilt Jerusalem through Jesus Christ, the Messiah.

Those from the nation of Israel who so desired had been allowed to return to their homeland. They were even allowed to rebuild the temple. But twenty years after their return found them in a partially rebuilt city, paying high taxes to the Persian king, dispirited, demoralized and disorganized, sitting on the sidelines when it came to world significance. It was to this state of affairs that God called Zechariah. Zechariah spoke to rally their hope and to make them believe in their future. He spoke of a time when God would act to reorder the universe.  In the ninth chapter of Zechariah, the prophet of old says to God’s people:

          Behold, your king is coming to you,

righteous and having salvation is he,

humble and mounted on a donkey,

on a colt, the foal of a donkey. (Zech. 9:9)

          Half a millennium later, Jesus comes to town on a colt, the foal of a donkey. The people throw their cloaks on the donkey to create a makeshift saddle and Jesus sits on it. John’s gospel says that the people set him on it.  He rides into Jerusalem on Passover week and crowds gather and spread leafy branches cut from the fields. They shout “Hosanna.” Their king has come. They could not have been more right. If only they knew Jesus’ definition of “king.”

          Passover week was and still is the great Jewish celebration. It commemorates the liberation of the Jewish people from slavery. This is the week that Jesus picked to announce his messiahship, the chosen one from the house of David, the one for whom the people had been waiting; the one about whom Zechariah had prophesied so many years ago. Little wonder that the crowds looked upon Jesus as their Messianic liberator from Rome’s oppression.  The parallels were striking; the prophecies practically promised it. Or did they?

          You know, this is just a little scrap of Scripture. It normally gets a heading in the Bible like “the triumphal entry.” In many ways, it is just a little segway to get Jesus into Jerusalem for Holy Week…for what we now identify as the Passion. Not far from Jerusalem, Jesus sends two disciples to town, probably Bethpage, which lies only a couple miles outside the capital city. He sends them to get a colt, a young, unridden foal of a donkey, for him to ride into Jerusalem. Though these verses are just a setup for the more important passages to come, there is still some significance here. Everywhere else, Jesus walks. It is only here that we see him riding. It is reminiscent of the triumphal entries of past military conquerors. The choice of the colt of a donkey over a horse also has significance. Kings rode horses when they went off to war. When they returned in peace, they rode on donkeys.  While Jesus is acknowledging his kingship, he is also emphasizing that he comes in peace. So Jesus fulfills prophecy.  

We now call this day Palm Sunday, although it is only in the gospel of John that palm branches are mentioned. The other gospels do not, although they do talk about branches with green leaves.  Both may have been used. While palm trees are not native to that area, the branches could have come from Jericho and could have been used with other green branches, all to honor the hero coming into town.

          So we have this little travelogue moving Jesus and his disciples from out of town to the grand entrance. We have the parallel of Passover to what will become Holy Week for Christians. We have the fulfillment of Old Testament Scripture. That’s enough for a segway. But I am curious about one other thing. I’m really curious about this poor young colt, the foal of a donkey. He plays his part so well that except for the visual image that is created, we hardly take further note of this little fella. The donkey’s behavior is highly unusual. What occurred that day is of no small significance, for it opens a window for us to see in yet another way the amazing effect that our Lord Jesus can have on nature, on his surroundings, on creatures of every kind and on us, his people.

          If you have ever spent much time around horses, you know that they spook easily. I have a client who raises and trains horses. She is a kind and gentle soul and her horses trust her. A couple years ago, she was out in her own meadow with a young horse. She was just getting him used to walking with a bit in his mouth. On that day, although she remembered to lock up her very excitable sheepdog, he tripped the latch to his pen and bounded into the meadow at full speed. The horse was spooked. He bolted from my friend, turned and before she could react, he had kicked her in the head. She almost died from the blow. It took her months to get over the concussion and related injuries. Before she passed out, she told her husband to leave the horse alone, that he had just reacted in his normal way to a commotion.  Of course, she was right. Horses don’t like surprises. They don’t like a lot of people or a lot of noise or a lot of commotion. Donkeys are part of the breed and can be expected to act in much the same way.

Think of that in terms of what we know about Palm Sunday. Remember, this was the beginning of the biggest celebration of the year. The city population had swelled completely out of control. People were everywhere. It was in this loud and boisterous environment that Jesus mounted not only a donkey, but a young donkey, and not only a young donkey, but a donkey that had never been ridden.  This was an unbroken colt. Then add to that the piling of garments and a grown man on this creature’s back, the scattering of leaves and branches right in front of him, and a literal gauntlet of people to walk through. Finally, all the people were excited. They were clamoring to get to where they could see Jesus. They were singing and dancing and yelling and screaming. This was that young colt’s introduction to being a beast of burden.

And yet, we hear nothing in any gospel account about any trouble whatsoever from this young donkey. It is as though he was born to have a grown man mount him and be led through a narrow passage lined by tens of thousands of people on both sides. His fifteen minutes of fame were passed quietly without incident. How is that? That is simply not the nature of such an animal.

The first explanation is that there was a commotion and that it is not reported. I really doubt that. I don’t think anything negative happened that day or one of the gospel writers would have mentioned it. So why did this colt behave so admirably? The answer is right before us. The colt was being ridden by the Son of God. I don’t for a minute doubt that while this colt may not have been able to discuss theology with us, he knew exactly who was on his back. It was his Creator.

Let me emphasize this in another way. What if Jesus had not been there? What if you or I had tried to mount that unbroken colt and ride through that crowd? What do you think the chances are that we would have made it fifty yards without incident? And yet, Jesus apparently rode all the way to the temple. That colt was calm. He was calm because he was walking with his Lord. It was easy to be obedient, says theologian Manfred Gutzke, because he was in the presence of his Lord. 

In Luke’s gospel, the same story is told, but Luke also tells us that some of the Pharisees called upon Jesus to rebuke the crowd from giving him kingly praise. His answer to them was that if he called upon the people to be silent, “the very stones would cry out.”  Think about it. God’s creatures, both animate and inanimate, know they are his creation. They act in reverence and obedience in the presence of their Lord. Is it not the same with us? When we walk in our own independence, it is the flesh that rules us.  But when we are walking with our Savior, when he is present in our hearts and pre-eminent in our actions through the work of the Holy Spirit, are we not calm? We cannot walk the road of this life independent of our Lord without bolting and stumbling and bucking at that which faces us. But with God at our side…those stones need not cry out. It is we instead who call out joyfully: "Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.” Like the foal of a donkey who instinctively knew his master that Sunday morning, we can walk with our Savior. Like the prophet whose very name declares it, we can acknowledge along with Zechariah that God has remembered, that he has sent us the righteous one…and in him is salvation, not just from Persian emperors or Roman rule or human oppression… but from Satan himself.