THE ODD COUPLE (John 3: 1-15) 3/18/12

In 1965, Neil Simon’s play The Odd Couple opened on Broadway. It ran for 966 consecutive performances, making it one of the most successful and popular plays in the history of Broadway. In fact it was so successful that its spinoffs included a movie and a television series. It featured two main characters. Felix Unger was the neurotic neat freak news writer going through a divorce, who moved in with Oscar Madison, a messy sportswriter. The habits of the two men could not be farther apart if they tried. They had nothing in common except that both were journalists.

We have talked before about the gospel of John being a book of signs. It is also a book of discourses. The discourse is another method that John uses to make Jesus known to us. This Scripture passage contains the first discourse and it is between Jesus and Nicodemus.

As we look at Jesus early in his ministry and at Nicodemus the Pharisee, we could easily call them the odd couple. Except for their devout love of God, they have little in common. And yet, much as Felix and Oscar did in their New York apartment, Jesus and Nicodemus become forever bound in our memory, for it is through their discourse that we are introduced to what it means to be born again. It is a strange and wonderful discourse that reminds us that to think and talk of things of the kingdom of heaven is to wander in a place in which we have no experience. It is a place where we come on faith. Even the faith which brings us there is not of our own making.

Nicodemus is one of those characters that I wish we knew more about. He only appears in John’s gospel and,including the discourse in John 3, he appears only three times. In John 7: 50, people are coming before the Sanhedrin and asking about Jesus. As he is being roundly condemned, Nicodemus courageously speaks up and asks why Jesus should not be given audience to see what he has to say. Much later in John 19, Nicodemus shows up with seventy five pounds worth of myrrh and aloe—about three thousand dollars worth of valuable spices and gums, to use in the preparation of Jesus’ crucified body. This is all we know of this very interesting man.

We do know some things about Nicodemus. He was a Pharisee. There were only about six thousand Pharisees in all of Israel. To become a Pharisee, one had to vow publicly to live by all the laws of God as long as he lived. The Pharisees, whether or not they were misguided, were the most devout believers of God in the entire nation.

Nicodemus was a ruler of the Jews, a member of the Sanhedrin. Think of this as the supreme court of Israel.1  Even in the days of Roman rule, the Sanhedrin, composed of only seventy members, possessed great power. It had jurisdiction over every Jew in the world. One of its responsibilities was to determine false prophets, and it was for this reason the Sanhedrin became so interested in Jesus. They had seen plenty of charlatans before and they thought Jesus was just one more in a long line.

Nicodemus was almost certainly a man of considerable wealth. The value of the burial spices he brought to be used upon Jesus is ample proof of that.

And yet, for all the honors that had been bestowed upon Nicodemus, for all the wealth and comforts that he had amassed, for all the respect that he enjoyed among his people, it was the supreme court justice who showed up in the dead of night to seek an audience with the young carpenter from Galilee. Sound familiar? No matter how far we come, no matter how many mountains we climb, until we meet with the Master, we are still puzzled, still searching, still looking back over our shoulders while we climb that next mountain, seeking that elusive truth that brings peace to our lives. I suspect that Nicodemus was just such a man.

Contrast this to Jesus. According to the chronology in John’s gospel, Jesus has performed one miracle, one sign, the changing of the water to wine at a wedding feast in Cana. He has come to Jerusalem and started a small riot in the temple courts. I’m guessing that he has done some other things because Nicodemus refers to signs in the plural when talking about Jesus’ acts. Nevertheless, it is early in Jesus’ ministry. He has followers, but many of them are themselves transients. He has no home. He has no possessions. He has no verifiable source of income. If Jesus were here today, he would be in danger of being arrested for vagrancy. If Nicodemus is like the all together Felix Unger, certainly Jesus can play the eccentric Oscar Madison, who really doesn’t know what’s in the refrigerator, much less worry about going to the grocery store. 

The parties are polite. Nicodemus refers to the young, unschooled man as Rabbi. This is high praise and very respectful.  Reciprocating, Jesus refers to Nicodemus as the teacher of Israel. Twice, Nicodemus asks “How,” honestly trying to grasp the principle of rebirth that Jesus is teaching.  Three times, Jesus says to him: “Truly, truly.” If he were Charles Stanley, it would have been “Listen, now listen.” Jesus wants him to understand, but sees that the chasm is wide. The discourse is serious. Nicodemus reaches for the truth, while Jesus holds it out gently, waiting for the pupil to grasp that which is impossible to hold except on faith.

Jesus says we have to be born again to see the kingdom of God. He says that birth must be of water and spirit to enter that kingdom. Nicodemus reaches and reaches…and still, he cannot grasp. Jesus reminds him, almost tenderly, I think, that talking about things that come from heaven is hard to do for us folks on earth. Jesus has come from heaven. He says without words at this point: you have to believe that I come from heaven. The words will come just a few verses later in John 3:16. But first, Nicodemus must reach deep inside to find the truth.  The unspoken words hang there in the air, waiting for Nicodemus’ response, waiting for our response. You have to believe to understand. When you understand, your belief will make sense.  When you understand, the water is spiritual and the spirit is earthy and, well, you see, these things are of heaven. You just have to believe. This is the quintessential problem of contemporary thought. We are losing our ability to see that which is not physical. Contemporary “wisdom” tells us that we must see the empirical evidence or something does not exist. If it is spiritual, it is not real. So goes the argument in our “post-religious” society.

Poor Nick. Is it the water of the womb? Is it the water of baptism? How are we born again? Nicodemus wants to know. Jesus’ words hearken back to the prophet Ezekiel, prophesying to the house of Israel and to God’s people that God will sprinkle clean water on us and we shall be clean… and he will give us a new heart, and a new spirit will be put within us. [Ezek 36: 25-27] . This is the new birth of which Jesus speaks. It comes from God and brings us to God. It is God-breathed. Let me say that again. God will sprinkle clean water on us and we shall be clean… and he will give us a new heart, and a new spirit will be put within us.. This is the new birth of which Jesus speaks. It comes from God and brings us to God. It is God-breathed. Jesus reminds us that as surely as the wind is real, regardless of the fact that we cannot see it, so is rebirth through the Holy Spirit. The Greek word for Spirit is pneuma, which means breath, wind, spirit. It is the same word used in the Hebrew in Genesis to describe how God breathed life into Adam. God-breathed. That is the “How” that Nicodemus is looking for.      

Nicodemus came to Jesus in the darkness. Perhaps he came then because it was the only time that two busy men could have a real conversation. Perhaps it is because many rabbis believed that nighttime was the best time to study the law. Perhaps it is because Nicodemus did not want to be observed conversing with this man Jesus in the light of day, for this was truly the dialogue of an odd couple. In the inside out world of the kingdom of heaven, it was the “insider” Nicodemus who was the odd man out. Whatever the reason, the darkness in which that discourse began must surely have turned into a dawning for this man of God.

Nicodemus is a lot like you and me. He was a seeker. He sought the truth and then tried to sort it out in his own life. Jesus told him it was hard to see heaven from earth, but there is a way. You know, when I think about odd couples, I can’t think of anything more odd than the Holy Spirit camping out in me. And yet, that is exactly what Jesus was trying to explain to Nicodemus and to us as well. We, like Nicodemus, must find that water is a symbol and that the work of the Holy Spirit is more real than flesh itself. It is God’s breath coming into our lives and our hearts. But first, we must believe. When we do, we can look into the kingdom and we will have eyes to see. He promised.    

1 Barclay, William, Daily Study Bible Series, John vol.1

In His Holy Temple (John 2: 12-22) 3/11/12

A billboard advertises “A going church for a coming Savior.”  Another reads “A new church for a new world” We use signs to grab people’s attention, to make them stop and think, to demonstrate something. Many televangelists talk about the end times. They keep soliciting money so they can buy more air time in order to tell us that we are pretty much out of time. Signs direct us, encourage us, discourage us, warn us and inform us. Signs point the way.

The gospel of John is a book full of signs. The book contains seven major signs. It is also a book of sevens which, you will remember, is a number associated with completeness. It is the book of the “I am” sayings, of which there are also seven. The scripture we look at today tells us about a hurt and righteously indignant Jesus, indignant and angry enough to fashion a whip made from cords and to use it to chase people from the Temple. That’s pretty indignant.

The story of Jesus clearing and “cleansing” the temple in Jerusalem is well known to us. It appears in all four Gospels, although in John, it follows Jesus’ first miracle at the wedding in Cana. In the other gospels, the story doesn’t occur until the Passion Week. To hear the writers of the synoptic gospels tell it, Jesus made only one trip to Jerusalem. To hear John tell it, one might think Jesus spent more time in Jerusalem than in Galilee. John mentions three different Passovers that found Jesus in Jerusalem.  There are several explanations for this. The most plausible one to me is offered by William Barclay, who says that it’s all a matter of point of view. John’s point of view is different from the Synoptics. They told the story from a Galilean perspective. John told it from a Jerusalem perspective. The stories are complimentary, not contradictory.  Barclay reminds us that John is an evangelist telling a story; that John is always more concerned with the truth than the facts. As usual, John is profound. It has been said that this Gospel is a pool in which both an elephant can wade and a child can swim. It is at once both simple and complex. This story is no exception. The truth of this story lies in the temple, the holy temple.

Try to imagine a fence in front of the church. Start at the parking lot and run a fence across the front and down to the church building on each side. Imagine that this area is what John called the temple courts. In that day, it was also probably called the Gentile court. It was the outermost area where Gentiles were allowed to come and worship. What we are sitting in---the sanctuary—would have comprised inner courts for Jews and then scribes and priests.

So Jesus comes to the area where the Gentiles are allowed—right in front of the temple—and there are sheep and doves and even cattle. There are also money changers. It’s a pretty wild scene. Add to this that during Passover week, the population is estimated by some to have swelled to 2.5 million people. It would be like filling up Darlington raceway 35 times and moving the whole crowd to Jefferson for the week.  I’m trying to figure out where the Gentiles were worshipping while all this commerce was going on. 

Now, imagine Jesus coming in and taking a look around. This was a major league concession stand. Only one type of coin was allowed to pay the temple tax and all the out of towners had to get their money changed—at a cost. The sacrifices had to be without blemish and you can guess what happened when the inspectors came by to look at those who brought their own. And the price gauging was no laughing matter either. It took two days wages just to pay the temple tax. A pair of doves might cost over three weeks wages for normal working folks. This was a sorry state of affairs and Jesus saw it for what it was.

Jesus makes a whip from cords and what John tells us next really defies imagination. Again, I want you to try to picture cattle and sheep and bird stands and money changers’ booths and more people milling around than you can count, all in the front yard of the church. Then picture Jesus cracking his whip and stampeding the cattle and the sheep, screaming at the dove sellers to get out, and flipping all the tables of the moneychangers, sending them scurrying to grab their money. Jesus is triggering a major commotion! This is not the peaceful Sermon on the Mount. This is the riot in the Temple courts. And Jesus says that they have turned his Father’s house into a market.  On a normal day, this would have gotten him stoned. But this is not a normal day. The priests and scribes and the Pharisees are probably all inside being holy and devout. This leaves only the normal everyday Jews outside to question Jesus. They want a sign. People back then were just like people today. They wanted signs to prove the authenticity of the speaker. Needless to say, they usually got little proof, but sometimes they got some good entertainment.

Well, we are finally to the point of today’s message, sort of. Jesus says: “Destroy this temple and I will raise it again in three days.” There we are. Decipher that riddle. Remember John’s gospel is both simple and complex. The elephant is wading, the child is swimming and John, more clued in sixty years later when he is actually writing this Gospel, sets the hook. The Jews milling around in the courtyard now begin to come together after the ruckus and one of them observes astutely that it had taken forty six years to build the temple. He then adds in a sufficiently sarcastic manner the question:  how would Jesus rebuild it in three days?

Now John has his day. He didn’t get the point at the time. He even admits it. But now as he writes his Gospel, he knows what Jesus really meant. Jesus wasn’t talking about a building.  The building held no interest for him, except that he would not allow it to be called God’s house and permit fraud to take place upon its grounds. Jesus was standing in His holy temple, and when he walked away, he took it with him. “The temple Jesus spoke of was his body,” says John.

Forty six years to build the temple in Jerusalem. At that point, it was still incomplete. Only fifty years later, the Jerusalem temple would be completely destroyed by the Romans, never to be rebuilt. The temple to which Jesus spoke was also destroyed, but it indeed was rebuilt in three days.  Whether John’s Gospel story is wrong chronologically hardly seems important. His perspective helps us to see the point of Jesus’ ministry from its very beginning. And Jesus’ perspective helps us to see the truth in spite of the facts.

The apostle Paul reminds us in Romans 1 that God’s eternal power and divine nature have been clearly seen since the creation of the world.   The writer of Hebrews calls Jesus the high priest and mediator of the new covenant. In Mark’s Gospel, Jesus is grilled by the Sanhedrin late into the night. In response to their accusations, Jesus promises that they, and we, will see him on God’s right hand coming on the clouds of heaven. Jesus understood the real house of God. Jesus never worried about the presence of the temple. He never worried about the geography of the temple. He only dealt with its structure, and its structure was divine.

Paul talked about the body being the temple of God. He talked about trying to keep it pure and unblemished in order to set a good example and to honor that which God has given us as the vessels for our souls. This is important in many ways, but it is not the focus of this lesson. The focus here is to remind us where the temple is. When Jesus spoke of it, He spoke rightly because as the Son of God, wherever He was, the temple of God was contained within him, for he was the object of worship, the very embodiment of God Himself. In speaking about the temple of God in such way, Jesus not only shows us where the temple is, but also where it isn’t. The temple of God is not contained within a building or a set of buildings or ten thousand buildings for that matter. The temple of God is as big as the universe and as small as the human soul. The temple of God cannot be destroyed. That was tried once. It didn’t work then and it never will.

Want to see God’s temple? Serve on a bread line and see a hungry child reach up for her soup cup.  Want to see God’s temple? Watch the flag being lowered at Arlington cemetery or at Normandy cemetery or presented to a widow at a funeral. Spend an afternoon on a lazy river watching nature and wildlife interplay. Want to see God’s temple? Take a walk with someone and hold their hand while you listen to the birds singing.

Destroy this temple? In John’s Gospel, Jesus reminds us that just like the temple in Jerusalem, all our man made temples will be destroyed. He shows us instead the real meaning of God’s house. God wants us to recognize that his house has no roof, knows no geography, that his house is indestructible, that on his front porch you can see forever. It takes God to make God’s temple. When we are in church or in a field full of flowers or maybe just in a quiet place somewhere just for us, we can sometimes feel that quickening that comes only from God, and we know. John tells us in the book of Revelation that the city of God will have no temple, “for its temple is the Lord God the Almighty and the lamb” (Jn. 21: 22). That Holy City will have no need of sun or moon, for “the glory of God gives it light, and its lamp is the Lamb” (v.23).

Live in the light of His presence, and your light will shine brightly into the lives of others. 1  Let all the earth keep silence before Him. God is in His holy temple, and that temple is in our hearts. 

1 Sarah Young, Jesus Calling, Thomas Nelson Inc. Nashville, Tenn. 2004, p.72

Home By Another Way (Mark 8: 31-38) 3/4/12

          When the Navy and I kissed each other goodbye, I came home to find a job. I was a college graduate and a veteran Naval Officer. I felt confident I would find something nearby to get started in business. I applied for a job with the textile mill in my hometown. I had spent four summers working in the mill during college and I was a hometown boy. I knew I would be hired. Well, I wasn’t. I didn’t have a textile degree, so the mill wouldn’t hire me to work in manufacturing. Actually, they did offer me a job, but in marketing, which required a move to New York City. No other offers appeared, so off I went to the big city. Six months later, I was in Chicago. After a couple years of travel around the Midwest, I had had enough.  Big city life wasn’t for me. I was accepted to law school and enrolled. A few years later, I returned to my hometown and started a law practice. It wasn’t a straight line, but it worked. Through a detour to big city life, I had found my calling for the next 35 years. I had come home, but not in the way I had planned. I came home by another way.

About seven years ago, God started me along another road, this time to ministry. This road also involved detours through more law practice, lay pastor training and even seminary. Along the way, he introduced me to a little church in South Carolina tucked off the main road in Chesterfield County. Now twice a week, I leave my hometown to come to what I am beginning to call home. Once again, I have come home by another way.

          The gospel of Matthew tells a similar story. Magi come from the east following a star in the sky. They stop in the Jewish capital of Jerusalem, for if they are looking for the king of the Jews, where else should one first look than the capital city? They are granted an audience with Herod, who plots to use them as unwitting spies. The Magi will be no help to Herod, for after finding the Christ child, they are warned in a dream not to go back to him. Instead, Matthew tells us that they return home to their country by another way.    

James Taylor wrote a song about Matthew’s Magi story and called it Home By Another Way. In her book by the same title, Barbara Brown Taylor tells the rest of the tale in this fashion: After seeing the Christ child, the Magi did not have the benefit of the star to guide them home. Because of the warning in the dream, they would not be returning by the route with which they were familiar. The maps they had made to get there were of little value to them when apprised of their new journey. They would have to rely on the guidance of God and the kindness of others to find their way.

 In the eighth chapter of Mark’s gospel Jesus makes the first of three predictions of his passion. He will do so again in chapters 9 and 10. He has begun the journey to Jerusalem, both in his teachings and in the slow, unforced march south from the region of Galilee to the city of Jerusalem. He is starting the journey home. It is time to reveal his identity. His time on earth and his ministry are drawing to a close. Jesus knows this all too well. He not only knows his time is short, but also that his disciples still don’t get what is takes to be on his team.  

God is the author of this journey. From the region of the Sea of Galilee as a ministry base to the temple in Jerusalem and a hill called Calvary as the situs for the passion story, Jesus continues his upside down, inside out Messiahship. Referring to himself as the Son of Man, he predicts his own death. Jesus is preparing to go home, but he, like the Magi, is going home by another way. What follows among him, Peter, the disciples and Satan, is both lesson and challenge. It is a lesson of selflessness and a challenge for us to follow. It is not without danger and it promises both a hard road and a narrow entry gate.

Jesus teaches of suffering, rejection and death. It is a new and startling revelation. The disciples are not ready for it. They are following the Messiah. Messiah will come in glory and bring the restoration of God’s people as pre-eminent among the nations. Everyone is looking for a military and political overthrow of the powers that be. They look for a righteous and powerful king like the one foreseen in Isaiah or Jeremiah. Such is the thought of Peter when he takes Jesus aside and rebukes him. He is concerned for Jesus and does not see why Jesus must suffer at anyone’s hands. We would have done the same thing had we been there.

Jesus returns the favor, but not just to Peter, He does rebuke Peter, but he has turned and is looking at all his disciples. The Greek verb (epetimao) translated here as “rebuke” is the same word used to describe Jesus’ silencing of the demons in Mark 1. It is strong. Why does Jesus turn so hard on Peter and the disciples? Why does he spit out “Get thee behind me, Satan!”   Compare this to the passage about Jesus’ temptation at the beginning of his ministry. Jesus must feel like he is right back there in the wilderness being tempted by Satan. This time the temptation is more subtle, and in that way, perhaps even more dangerous. It comes from a beloved friend. Jesus is asked to take the comfortable route, the safe way. He is asked to exercise dominion over the situation, to summon his power and take what he wants. He does not have to go to Jerusalem at all. He can carve his own kingdom by just snapping his fingers.

Mark tells us that as Jesus taught, he referred to himself as the Son of Man. Only Jesus did this. No one else referred to him by this title. Son of Man is Jesus’ favorite phrase by far when referring to himself. It occurs eighty-one times in the New Testament. When Jesus uses the term, he invokes the Old Testament image created in Daniel 7 of one “coming with the clouds of heaven…” one who has been “given authority, glory, and sovereign power...” And yet, with all this power at his disposal, Jesus is so much more than the title. He is sheer, total humanity in its highest order. In his humanity, he is also you. He is me. He is each of us and all of us, and if he ever is to be able to invite us to take up the cross, he knows he must shoulder it first himself.    

So why is Jesus so mad? Perhaps it is because Peter has hit Jesus’ soft spot. Peter reminds Jesus that it could be so, so much easier. It is as though he is right back in the desert, hungry and tired and frustrated and vulnerable. But our Savior is obedient and our Savior trusts. So Jesus the man summons up his courage and overcomes his fear and again rejects the easy way. He turns on the Twelve, who hold nothing in their hearts but love for him. Like we so often do to our own loved ones out of a desire to protect them, the disciples unwittingly cast the seeds of disobedience at Jesus’ feet, and he not only rejects the idea, but also rebukes the evil intent carried in the suggestion. He trusts our heavenly Father, and our heavenly Father has told him that he must come home by another way…the way of the cross. Home will be found not through the power of the sword, but through the blood of the cross. In the upside down world of our Savior, his strength is found in his submission; his power in his servant hood.  

In Mark’s gospel our Savior asks us to take up the cross. That concept has been watered down over time. Today we might say that if we have arthritis or some other chronic condition, then it is our cross to bear. This is not what Jesus meant. In his book Plain Talk on Mark, Maynard Gutzke challenges us in this way: “You and I are to have this in mind: the way we live and the way we follow the Lord Jesus Christ is so important that if we shrink from it, if we fail to follow him or yield to him, we are sure to suffer the consequences.” A verse from James Taylor’s ballad reminds us of the ever present Satan:

          Well it pleases me to be here

          And to sing this song tonight

They tell me that life is a miracle

And I figured that they’re right

But Herod’s always out there

He’s got our cards on file

It’s a lead pipe cinch, if we give an inch

Old Herod likes to take a mile

What does Jesus want of us? He wants us to be the biggest losers. Tune in every week to the NBC television series Biggest Loser and you can watch a modern day parallel to his teaching. Overweight contestants compete for a $100,000 cash prize which they can win by losing the greatest percentage of weight.  After weeks and even months of exercise and diet and conditioning, the final weigh-in occurs. The winner is the biggest loser. Jesus asks us to do much the same thing in the way we live our lives. If we want to save our lives, we must lose them to our Savior and the gospel. How do we do this? We live not for ourselves but for our Savior, our neighbor, our church. We make investments, not so much in the stock market, but more so in the kingdom of heaven.

The television show is not a bad parallel to the teaching of Jesus. If you want to win the prize, you have to shed the baggage.  When Jesus comes again in glory on the clouds of heaven, wouldn’t it be nice if we have been busy exercising and dieting and conditioning ourselves in His name! Wouldn’t it be nice if we were found to be the biggest losers of our own interests in our attempt to help others! Wouldn’t it be nice if, instead of taking the easy way, we come home by another way? The way of the cross is an offer not of comfort, but of peace; not of security but of danger; not of long life but of the fullness of life. It is the road less traveled, the path less taken. But for those who take up that cross… it has contained within it a peace that truly does pass all understanding…and the retirement benefits are simply out of this world!

Symbolic Water (1 Peter 3: 18-22) 2/26/12

Lent is a time for repentance. Now we know that any time is a good time for repentance, but Lent is that time of the year for Christians when we are reminded that the ultimate sacrifice is about to be made by our Savior, and that we might want to hold ourselves more accountable, not only for what we had to do with that sacrifice, but also for what it means to us.  Often during the first Sunday of Lent, the story is told of Jesus’ preparation for ministry after being baptized by spending forty days in the wilderness. It is a wonderful text with which to start the Lenten season, but we have already heard that story recently in another context. So instead, let’s look at Scripture from 1^st Peter 3. While there is material here that can confound the most scholarly of scholars, we are going to leave that for another day. Let’s look at the subject of water. Peter is going to introduce us to three kinds of water. All three have something to do with being saved. Two are real and also symbolic. One is symbolic, but also very real. All three have to do with Lent, because Lent is the time we prepare even more than usual for the Passion of Christ—the time we prepare for the cross and all it means to us as Christians. Preparing for that means learning again what it means to be saved—what salvation is all about. And that brings us back to water, because it reminds us of  all that sacrifice—and the fact that we are saved by and through the cleansing or deliverance it symbolizes.

A soldier wears a cross or a St. Christopher medallion into battle. A firefighter or policeman might do the same. Someone else carries a rock or a marble or a rabbit’s foot in his or her pants pocket, or a beat up photograph in a shirt pocket. Others fiddle with rosary beads during prayer. A team finally wins a game and then another.  The players won’t change socks during the winning streak. A hitter goes to the plate and digs a hole with his right foot while the left takes a position out of the batter’s box in exactly the same place every time.  After every pitch, the batter steps out, adjusts his hitting gloves and his helmet and then steps into the exact same place in the exact same way. In Clemson, South Carolina, no self respecting player suited up in orange will ever enter Death Valley without touching Howard’s Rock on the way down The Hill.

What is it about symbolism that attracts us so? What is it about symbolism that seems to give us encouragement, even courage? What is it about the rocks and marbles and necklaces in our lives that allow these touchstones and talismans to become so important to us; important to the extent that they become part of our ritual, part of the fabric of our understanding of life, even part of identifying who we are?                                                

Symbols are not new to us, nor is the exaggerated importance we sometimes assign to them. Symbols and images got to be such a big thing in the early church that a name was given to the problem. In the eighth century, it was called the Iconoclastic Controversy. In 726, the Byzantine Emperor Leo III took down the image of Christ from the gate of the imperial palace for fear that the image itself was becoming the subject of worship. Church leaders worried about images and symbols being worshipped in their own right rather than as avenues to understanding and remembrance. Eventually icons and images came back, but only after the Church learned to deal with them in a proper way.

Today, the cross is perhaps the most visibly recognizable symbol of the Christian church. Close on its heels are the sacraments of the Lord’s Supper and Baptism. The element most closely associated with Baptism is water. Water is the vehicle by which we are baptized, but water is much more than that to Christians. Water is the medium by which we identify ourselves as cleansed before the Lord. But long before water gained this significance as a symbol of salvation, it had become a symbol of another kind of salvation.

Remember the story of Noah in the book of Genesis? God is so frustrated with the corruption of his creation that he decides to start over. The story of Noah is the story of God’s destruction of all life on earth; all life except for the male and female of every creature God created, and for eight people: Noah, his wife, his sons Shem, Ham and Japheth and their wives. The story of the flood is the story of God starting over and, in the process, delivering his chosen remnant through the water to salvation, in this case from the flood.

Fast forward to the river Jordan and the ministry of John the Baptist. John baptized converts with water from the river. Baptism represented a cleansing of body and spirit; a washing away of the old and taking on the new in a clean body and spirit. Jesus himself referred to being “born again of water and the Holy Ghost” (John 2: 1-21). A believer passed through the water to salvation by repentance.

So water plays a prominent part in the symbolism in the Bible, both in the Old and New Testaments. Water is the element used to symbolize cleansing, even delivery, through to something new. We pass through it and something happens to us. Jesus instituted two ceremonies in his ministry, those of Baptism and Holy Communion. He did not initiate baptism, but he himself was baptized, thereby instituting a ceremony which, like communion, was to become sacramental in the Protestant Church.

I said earlier that Peter refers to three kinds of water, all of which have to do with salvation; that two are both real and symbolic, and one is only symbolic, but also very real.   One of those real watermarks was the flood in Noah’s time. Peter points to it as something through which God’s people were safely delivered. What was it that delivered them to their salvation? Was it the water which carried them ultimately to safety? Was it the ark which they built to withstand the flood? What saved Noah and his family?

A second watermark comes in the form of Baptism, whether in the Jordan River, or in the baptistry of a church, or in the anointing of an infant’s head.  So we should ask, as Peter does, what is it that delivers us to our salvation?  Peter says “Baptism now saves you…” It would be a mistake to stop here as though we have our answer, for Peter does not stop. He goes on to say that baptism does not act as some sort of spiritual dirt remover. Rather, he says, baptism acts as an appeal; an appeal to God for a good conscience. According to Saint Peter, that good conscience comes from the resurrection of Jesus Christ.

What is Peter saying? Does water deliver us? No. Does Baptism deliver us? No. Jesus delivers us.  Here is what I mean. Noah and his family trusted God. Noah and his family obeyed God. Jesus as the Son of Man trusted and obeyed God. He underwent not only the symbolic baptism of water, but also the real life baptism of the cross.

You see, friends, the real meaning of the word baptism is to be immersed, covered, and Jesus was baptized not only with water, but  with the fire of pain, sin and death. He underwent that baptism because he cared that much for us. He trusted and obeyed God. Our real  baptism is the same. It is our trust and our obedience in a heavenly Father who by His grace sent us His son, that we might have salvation. The water is but an outward symbol for an inward change.

Does Baptism save us? No. And thank God for that too, for we would not worship a God who would prevent the entry to heaven of an infant who did not survive this earth long enough to be baptized. But baptism by water is a profound symbol of the cleansing of the body and spirit that takes place through God’s grace in order for each of us to be afforded the opportunity to be saved.

The deep meaning behind the symbols of water and Baptism is that in the final analysis, it is not the real water of the flood, or the Jordan, or even this baptismal font, in all their powerful symbolism, that change us.  Rather, it is the Holy Spirit who is our real cleansing agent. The Holy Spirit moves us to hear and be drawn to our Savior. It bathes our very souls with the cleansing of the cross.  The Holy Spirit opens our hearts and minds to be receptive to the message of our baptism and we are changed, transformed.

The Holy Spirit is not a symbol. He and she are the living, breathing spirit of God indwelling us. It is by God’s grace, and only God’s grace, that we can be cleansed. We use the symbol of water, as we use the ceremony of Baptism, as symbols to remind us of that amazing grace.  By grace we are saved …through faith.   Amen.

Light in the Darkness (Isaiah 58: 3-11) 2/22/12 Ash Wednesday

 The baptism of Jesus by John the Baptist in the Jordan River is one of the most beautiful scenes in the New Testament, a pastoral scene  where God himself descends to Jesus in the form of a dove, where God’s voice can be heard assenting to Jesus’ ministry from the heavens. What comes immediately after this beautiful scene?  What comes next for our newly ordained Jesus? Why, an all expenses paid trip to the desert for forty days of fasting and temptation!

Each year, Christians remember that forty day period of sacrifice and preparation by observing the season of Lent, which begins roughly forty days before Easter. During that time, Christians will fast or do certain things in greater moderation and spiritual discipline to identify with Jesus’ sojourn in the desert. Ash Wednesday marks the first day of this Lenten season. As we remember the  fasting and preparation of our Savior in the desert, we also mourn for him as we prepare with him during this season for his greater sacrifice on the cross just weeks away. We impose ashes on our foreheads as an outward witness of our repentance. We remove ourselves from the privacy of our prayer closets in order to acknowledge not only the sacrifice of a risen Savior, but also our earnest desire to be forgiven for our participation in the sin that drove him to that cross. It is no matter that we were not born when his sacrifice was completed, for he came and died for all sin, and that means he died for you and me just as surely as he did for those who came before us.

The prophet Isaiah reminds us of the meaning of true worship.  It has little to do with ritual and everything to do with restoration. Look at the goals set out by Isaiah in the context of fasting: He calls for loosing the chains of injustice, setting free the oppressed, sharing food with the hungry, providing the poor wanderer with shelter, clothing the naked, not turning away from our own flesh and blood. Worship is more than ritual, fasting more than form. The formal trappings of humility impress little if offered during a timeout from a family argument or a respite from quarreling. Our church attendance is suspect if we drive by our neighbor without ever inviting him to God’s house. This did no good in the time of Isaiah and does no good today.

If our fasting is to be acceptable to our Lord, we must act our testimony and not just ritualize it. If our prayers are to be listened to by our heavenly Father, they must arrive on the wings of our witness. If our worship is separated from our daily life, it is not worship and we are not righteous. The glory of the Lord here and now is seen in the eyes and acts of his disciples. Disciples are followers and so Christians are disciples. This is our act of righteousness. This is our true worship; that we act as God’s people. When we do so, the prophet Isaiah tells us that our light will rise in the darkness, our nights will become as noondays, our frames strengthened…for our Lord will guide us always. It is for this reason that we gather as God’s people in this season of Lent. Let the oil which bonds the ashes of repentance to our foreheads be a healing balm for us. Let the sign of the cross of Christ become a beacon of our true character, so much so that no cross will need be painted upon us for that allegiance to be seen. May we present ourselves anew as living sacrifices to our Savior. May we, in this season, remember, repent, and restore.

Prayers of the Saints (Mark 2: 1-12) 2/19/12

Every Sunday at the end of the message, I leave the pulpit and wander around in the congregation as we participate in the Prayers of the People. It’s one of my favorite times in the worship service. It puts me in the congregation instead of standing in front of it. It lets me get closer to everyone. It feels more personal, more intimate. I get the chance to carry more personal messages to God in prayer. It’s much more relational than reading requests from the church bulletin, although such news is important. People talk about family members and friends and members of the community. They appeal for the strength that comes from joining in community to pray for someone.

Group prayer or community prayer is an amazing weapon. It has started Crusades and revivals; it has spawned marches and sit-ins; brought down city-states and helped put this pilgrim on a path to ministry.  Group prayer is often a general appeal, but it is also the gathering of God’s people united in a common purpose, asking our Creator for aid or comfort or deliverance in a particular situation. Some groups have millions of participants, as in the National Day of Prayer. Some groups are small. Such a group, a group of only four people, is used by Mark to open the second chapter of his gospel. The faith of this small group is going to teach us one of the great lessons on the nature of God.

Health is one of those big picture words. It means different things to different people. Ask someone how their health is and likely as not they will tell you that they have this or that nagging pain. They may talk about a recent or impending doctor visit. The point is that they are trying to communicate their state of health. So what is health, exactly? Well…the World Health Organization has defined health as “a state of complete physical, mental and social well-being and not merely the absence of disease or infirmity.”  The new buzzword for this is wellness. Wellness is something that was certainly missing in the life of a certain paralytic who is the subject of a miracle in Mark 2.  Maybe not so surprisingly, the words that Jesus uses to cure this paralytic turn out to be strikingly similar to the World Health Organization’s definition of health some two thousand years later.

Let’s talk about these two issues: faith and health, in a little more detail. First, let’s look at faith. Jesus has come back home to Capernaum, probably to the house of Peter and Andrew. As was the custom of the time, the door was open. In the daytime, doors only closed when people wanted privacy. Otherwise, the doors were open and people felt free to walk right in. With Jesus the miracle healer back in town, people are showing up in numbers. Before long, the house is full. It is into this situation that the paralytic and his four friends arrive. There is no way they are going to get inside. Jesus is teaching and there is no room. The peasant houses of first century Palestine were fairly uniform. They had flat roofs composed of compacted earth and even grass that was laid atop a layer of tiles. The tiles were an overlay placed upon thatch, which was packed between wood beams that traversed the roof. Usually there was an outside stair to the roof, which was used much like a patio today. Not to be denied, these four enterprising and determined fellows made their way up the steps with their friend. It would have been a fairly easy chore to carve a hole between the beams. which is exactly what they did. Then they lowered their friend, mat and all, to the presence of Jesus. One has to wonder if this exercise made much noise, or if the earthen clods began to fall on the heads of those below. Mark does not tell us. In Markan style, the next sentence we read gets right to the point.

When Jesus saw their faith, he called the paralytic “Son,” and forgave him his sins. The gospels of Matthew (9: 1-8) and Luke (5: 17-26) echo this account almost verbatim.  While it is remarkable that Jesus heals a paralyzed man, this is only part of the story. Jesus looks at the determination and persistence of this man’s friends and he sees it as faith. Based not upon the faith of the paralytic, whose faith Mark never mentions, but upon the faith of these four friends, Jesus forgives the man’s sins. This is very good news, friends. This is headline news! Jesus tells us that we can be the prayer agent to bring about healing in others, just because we believe. We can impact the lives of others by what we bring to God in our belief system and what we lay at his feet in believing prayer.

This is no passive operation. The friends of the paralytic have to put their faith into action. They have to find another way to get to Jesus. They have to go through some physical labor and exertion to accomplish this. They cannot just sit and wait for the opportunity. They have to find a way to create it. This is faith in action. They even risk a “breaking and entering” rap to get their friend to the feet of Jesus. This is faith by conduct.   And…it is yet another revelation from Mark as to the identity of Jesus. Yes he is the Son of God, and he can and does forgive us of sin and heal us based on nothing more than the sincere belief of others that we are worth saving.

 In healing the paralytic, Jesus says simply that his sins are forgiven. He is hearkening back to the teaching of the Old Testament that the condition of the body was a reflection of one’s spiritual condition. The Old Testament claim was essentially that physical sickness was a direct result of separation from God.  Remember Job’s friends questioning him about what he needed to repent of in order for his condition to improve? This is the historical precedent for the words of Jesus. Later, Jesus will be questioned by some teachers of the law as to his choice of words. He summarily dismisses them as he bids the paralytic to get up and walk. Of course the paralytic does just that and walks out of the house. Everyone is amazed at the power and authority of Jesus, but his lesson is even more profound. Yes, he is the Son of God and he can use what words he chooses. It is not his word choice, but his authority that makes the man healed. And yet, Jesus did choose to forgive the man’s sins and to use that as his command for wellness. His healing is accomplished by his will, not by that of the paralytic. Jesus reminds us that an unhealthy spirit will be reflected in the body that houses that spirit, and that the healing of that spirit will be a key element in the healing of the body.

Perhaps this lesson is not so far removed from the modern definition of health: “not merely the absence of disease…” but rather “a state of complete mental, physical and social well-being.”  This is precisely what the healed paralytic walked out of Peter’s house with that day, and it started with the forgiveness of his sins. This is not just an Old Testament history lesson. This is the order our Savior has established for wellness, whether it is 1^st century Palestine or among us latter day Christians.    

What does faith in action look like for us? How can we be like the four friends on the roof of Peter’s house? We could pray in public in a restaurant. How about holding hands while we do it? We could pray for the leaders of this country and our denomination and this community not necessarily because they deserve it, but because we know the power of prayer. How about praying for our children like their very lives depend on the faith and petitions of our prayer? We could put our money where our mouths are and live a little more on faith every day.  We must take up the mantle, for it is we who must be the modern day saints. We must have the faith of the four friends of the paralytic, for this is the way we pass it forward.

Let me share a story with you. I carry it with me as a reminder that I can make a difference in someone’s life without ever saying a word. I have an old and dear friend whom I have known since childhood. We went through school and even college life together. Our paths diverged long ago, but we are still aware of each other’s presence and friendship. When we were young adults, I remember asking her how she held her ground as a Christian in the face of the many temptations that we encountered. She just laughed. She reminded me that her parents held hands and prayed together on their knees every night. Even though they were very private about their prayer life, their daughter was well aware of their practice. My friend Jane smiled but said to me in all seriousness: Do you really think I could have ever faced them had I not lived up to their witness? Her parents were my friends too, and their witness brought me under its umbrella.  We are the legacy of Jane’s parents and people like them. You know people like that. They are our latter day saints. What will we do with faith like that? Will we admire it from afar, or will we climb up those steps and lower our friend to the feet of Jesus?

There is a new proverb I came across recently that says: “If God is your co-pilot, swap seats.” This is the message of Jesus in Mark 2: “…so that you may know that the Son of Man has authority on earth…get up, take your mat and go ...” In him lies the freedom to which we all aspire. Let our faith make others walk.

Touching the Untouchable (Maek 1: 40-45) 2/12/12

               Touching the Untouchable

                                      Mark 1: 40-45, Psalm 30

I don’t like snakes. I know God created them and they are important to eco-systems, but I don’t like them. It is only with the greatest willpower that I tolerate green snakes and black snakes. I’m not by myself. I’m thinking of the Indiana Jones movies. They helped make Harrison Ford famous. Remember the first one: Raiders of the Lost Ark? Our hero gets thrown into a pit full of snakes, his worst nightmare. Mine too! For others, it is spiders or rats or roaches. One of my daughters gets crazy when she is around any sort of bug that jumps, like a camel cricket or a grasshopper.

In the first century, disease was a great fear for most people. No one was immune because the practice of medicine and scientific knowledge were nowhere near the level of advancement that we enjoy today. A common cold could turn into pneumonia. There were few cures for disease. Probably the most dreaded disease of that time was leprosy. Modern day antibiotics can treat and cure leprosy, but in Jesus’ day, there was no cure. In those days, leprosy was a death sentence and in more ways than one. It would indeed kill its victims over 9-30 years, depending on the strain of the disease. It was progressive death where one must live with a body rotting from the inside out. Disfigurement was inevitable. Fingers and toes, even hands and feet, would literally fall off from the rot.

 Perhaps of more importance is the way that leprosy cut off its victims from the rest of the world. Leprosy was a skin disease, but the word at that time was used to cover all skin diseases, whether they were run of the mill psoriasis or ringworm or leprosy proper. The judgment was the same for all. Skin disease left one unclean, and to be unclean was to be cut off from ordinary society. Lepers were quite literally dead men walking. They were required to wear black garments for all to recognize them. They had to live outside normal town life either alone or in a leper colony. They could not come to church. They were allowed to peer through the “squint” holes cut in the church walls. Lepers in first century Palestine were banished from society and totally shunned. They were cut off from their own families. They were actually taken into churches while living where the priest would read the burial service over them, says theologian William Barclay.

Mark’s story about this leper is very short…only a few verses and yet, there are some valuable and lasting lessons that may be gleaned from it. On the surface, it is one of the first miracles performed by Jesus. We all see it as a kind and compassionate act for a man in great need who appealed in faith to Jesus’ healing power. But there are some other lessons here as well. Like so many stories in the gospel narratives, there are stories and lessons within the story if we just dig a little deeper.

First, there is the leper’s behavior. There were rules for lepers in those days, and this leper was breaking them all. Leviticus 13 (45, 46) set out the rules for those with skin diseases.  They were to wear torn clothes. They were to let their hair be unkempt. They were to cover the lower part of their face and cry out “Unclean, Unclean” as long as they had the infection. Lastly they were to live outside the camp, away from the clean folks lest they be exposed. The leper of Mark 1 has lost his rulebook. He comes right to Jesus and drops to his knees. There is no cry of “Unclean” from him, although I suspect that the crowd of people following Jesus had parted like the waters of the Red Sea when he came into their midst. They probably were calling out “Unclean.” Nevertheless this rogue leper has made his way all the way to Jesus where he is on his knees asking for the healing that is impossible outside of a miracle. So he asks, or rather begs, saying: “If you are willing, you can make me clean.” This is not acceptable behavior. Where are the Pharisees when you need them? This guy is over the line. There are rules for this sort of thing, and the leper has ignored them all. When he finally reaches Jesus, his faith in Jesus’ power and authority is obvious. Not so obvious is whether this man thinks that Jesus’ mercy is as available to a poor leper as it might be to someone higher up the social food chain. He will not have long to wait for his answer.

Second, there is Jesus’ behavior toward Satan.  Look at Mark 1: 41. Most translations say that Jesus was “filled with compassion,” but that thought draws heavily on what follows. We will get to that in a moment, but first, let’s look at this phrase about compassion. The Expositor’s Bible Commentary points out that the phrase is more accurately translated “being angered.” This is the reading that is found in older, more reliable manuscripts. So why would Jesus be angry? Well, here he was being confronted with yet another troubled soul with disease in his body. Perhaps Jesus recognized the disease as the devil’s doing, like so many other plagues in the world both then and now. If so, Jesus’ anger was not for the man or even the disease, but for Satan, whose work Jesus came to destroy. So Jesus is angered, perhaps filled with anger. Repeatedly in the gospels we see Jesus doing battle with Satan and cautioning the disciples that the “ruler of this world,” meaning Satan, must be reckoned with.    

Third, there is Jesus’ physical action toward the leper. He reaches out his hand and touches the leper. Then he says; “I am willing. Be clean.” The leper was cured then and there. The leper now has his answer. Jesus’ mercy extends to all who believe.  Don’t miss the significance of this act. Jesus’ act of touching the leper made Jesus himself unclean under the law. He certainly knew this. Yet he reached out his hand and touched the leper anyway.  This is one of those times when we must remember that Jesus was not only the Son of God; he also was the Son of Man. As the son of Mary, he was subject to all the diseases to which everyone else was subject. Now the leper had nothing to lose. For all practical purposes, he had nothing to live for except more pain, more suffering, more humiliation. But Jesus! Jesus was on the front end of his ministry. And here he was reaching out to a man clearly riddled with the most deadly disease in the land. He touched the untouchable! It is a further explanation, demonstration if you will, of who Jesus was. In taking on the flesh of man, Jesus became one of us. In taking on the burdens of the flesh, he walked with us and shared our pain. In reaching out to the leper, Jesus lived out his decision to take our flesh upon himself that he might cleanse our sin (Expositors Bible Commentary). And Jesus made it clear then, as he makes clear this very moment, that he will not stand on ceremony! If the ceremonial law gets in the way of compassion and love, it will not be observed by this radical Savior of ours.

Jesus takes the law and turns it inside out. He takes our regulations and turns them on their heads. Jesus is concerned with purity, but it is the purity of the heart with which he is concerned. Jesus is concerned with obedience of the law, but it is the law of love which he observes. As surely as the diseased person among us, like the leper of old, can part a sea of humanity to get to his goal, so can our Savior reach out his hand and touch that which is impure, that which is unclean, that which repulses… and make it pure as the driven snow.

Yes, the leper of Mark 1 is the recipient of Jesus’ healing hand by the leper’s own act of faith or maybe desperation, and that makes for a good lesson. But the stories within the story are of equal or greater value.  The leper will not be denied his chance at salvation and healing. He will break all the rules for the one true prize. He will break line and get on his knees and, drawn by his faith, he will seek God’s grace. That grace is found in the man called Jesus.  

Our Savior is not just the meek and mild Sermoneer of the Mountain giving out beatitudes. He is equally the radical, the revolutionary, and he has a temper.  Yes, he walks softly, but where he walks, one must tremble at his authority. We may understand clearly once again from this story that our Jesus is no Clark Kent. He is Superman. Finally, we see again our own salvation in the love and compassion that will ignore the convention to get to the person. Jesus is personal. Jesus is relational. He reaches out for you and me this day to cure our ills and make straight our paths and he says to us: “I am willing. Be clean!”  Like the leper of Mark 1, may we go out and speak freely, spreading the good news to all who would listen. And may we also, in his name, touch the untouchable!