The Power of Love VS. the Love of Power

 

Every year the Roman army would come marching into Palestine during Passover. It was Pilate in the time of Jesus, who riding a white stallion, led the parade as a symbol of Rome’s dominance and oppression. It was a reminder to “nobodies” not to cause trouble during the Passover. So what does Jesus do? In a seemingly mocking parody, he rides a donkey (Mark 11:1-10), a lowly beast of burden in the opposite direction and enters through the gate from which Pilate exited.

While Pilate needed a whole legion to demonstrate his importance and control, Jesus’ “power” was rooted in relationships and the everlasting love of God and in God’s desires for the good of the world and all its creatures. It was the power of love vs. the love of power on parade. The gospel writers tell us that this event was not accidental. Jesus planned it ahead of time. He knew what he was doing and he knew he was risking the wrath of Rome by provoking the authorities. And eventually they caught up with him.

God did not plan Jesus’ death. God did not desire it. God did not need it for God’s salvation of the world and all its creatures to work out. Contrary to some long held beliefs, Jesus was not ransomed for us, but rather, he took and continues to take our place, not for our sins, but for the trials of our human journey. Jesus resurrection fulfills the promise of our resurrection with him as our souls shed our mortal vessels and we are raised up with Christ. 

So then, why the cross? The Cross was used by the Romans to not only destroy the identity of the one who was crucified, but to erase his mission and send a warning to any of his followers. Ironically, in the early century it was reviled as an image to be kept out of sight as it, on the surface, was a grim reminder of the despicable event. In time, however, the cross became and endured as the central symbol for our faith…a symbol that reminds us that we pick up our cross so that we may follow His journey through life and become another  "nobody" who is raised up on the very cross we endured through life into eternal glory with him. No one would expect a nobody to be resurrected. 

The cross reminds us that our world is still a “risky” place, and that much will be asked of us. Yet it reminds us that death has no power over us because we live in the light of the resurrection of a nobody who was raised up as will we. The cross reminds us to stand up for those who need to be rescued and to stand with those who work for the common good even when it seems to be hopeless or dangerous. We know and have known people like Gandhi, Martin Luther King and Rosa Parks, who at the very least put themselves at risk for the sake of others. This exchange is God standing with us as we face our reality and its dangers. God is in the midst of our human experience. We don't need to go back to Palm Sunday two thousand years to see it all played out again. This past year in the time of Covid has taught us that we can live in a time of trouble with joy.  How many "nobodies" just going about their ordinary lives to the extent that they were able, quietly entered through the back gate without fanfare and helped lead us back to a new beginning so that our lives could be restored. On the other hand, how many chose to exploit the event and assert their dominance and control to purposely polarize our country for the love of power and personal gain as millions suffered?  

Jesus challenged the love of power and lived for the power of love. His marching into the "back" gate of Jerusalem on a lowly beast of burden as Pilate gloriously entered the "front" gate serves as a dramatic pageant orchestrated to stage the love of power vs the power of love. 

Now, I understand what you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free
They would not listen, they did not know how
Perhaps they'll listen now.

 

The Hour Has Come for the Son of Man to Be Glorified

 

 

 

As Jesus' ministry draws to a close the profound message in John 12:20-33
 is that the torch is passed. It is now up to us to carry on Jesus’ ministry and transform the world in his name. The tiny grain of wheat falls to the earth, dies, is reborn and eventually bears much fruit. Through us, His Word is brought fully into the world, even by just one individual who touches those around him. They will be transformed, and the stories that they in turn will tell, will transform others, for generations to come and continue to work “miracles” in the lives of those who aspire to be Christ-centered . 

We are all connected in ways that we don't fully understand but in a world in which there are no coincidences. His Blessings seem to be meted out in just the right dose and time. I know we are "lucky" to know this, but luck has nothing to do with it? And in reflecting on this "inspired knowledge," I wonder if am not giving myself too much credit and wallowing in self-gratification? Jesus is my personal mentor and my personal way to the Father. How dare I take so much of His Time I thinks? I want to believe that the more He gives, the more He wants me to take. To understand this in the context of our human nature and "good manners" and not feel "greedy" about it are not easy to reconcile.  Why is that?
 

God does not want to be a part of, or at the periphery of our being; He wants to be centered in us as our sustenance. And if He is centered in us and we in Him, than we are inter-connected as one with the universe. Our interconnectedness as part of the Body of Christ in which we exist "with Him, in Him and through Him," comes alive in John's gospel, in which Jesus tells us that "I am the Bread of Life"...without which we will die.

Jesus went beyond superficial divisions and called for a culture of compassion…Compassion changes everything. Compassion heals. Compassion mends the broken and restores what has been lost. Compassion draws together those who have been estranged or never dreamed they were connected. Compassion pulls us out of ourselves and into the heart of another, placing us on holy ground where we instinctively take off our shoes and walk in reverence. Compassion springs out of vulnerability and triumphs in unity. . (Judy Cannato, Field of Compassion, P 8)

The Power of Love vs The Love of Power

 

(John 3: 14-21)

If we gave it any real thought, our world and quite often our lives operate according to the more traditional belief that security comes not through vulnerability and sacrifice but through power and might. For we live in a world that seeks security not only through power but also through wealth and consumption, and we are taught from a very early age to avoid true vulnerability – and the truly vulnerable – at all costs. So, sacrifice? Sure, when we can afford to. Love our enemies? Maybe if everything else is taken care of first. Vulnerability? Only if there is no other choice. 

The kind of self-sacrificing love Jesus offers is frightening to such a world. No wonder some run and hide, as it requires us to trust nothing other than God. And most of us find it impossible to embrace Jesus’ example…except when we ourselves have been brought low by illness, or loss, or a broken relationship, or disappointed hopes or some other way by which the world taught us that no matter how hard we try, no matter what position we may achieve, no matter how much money we may save, yet we cannot secure our destiny or save our lives. Only God can do that. Only love can do that. And it’s frightening to be so utterly dependent on God. 

In addition, notice that God doesn’t ask our permission first before sending Jesus to die for us. I know, I know, that may seem like an odd detail to point out. But think of the claim a person – any person – has on us once they’ve saved our life, let alone died doing it. In the face of such love, such sacrifice, we must surrender all of our claims. 

Years ago I preached a sermon about the offensive nature of God’s grace, suggesting that we might add four words to the end of our service of baptism, saying, “Child of God, I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit…like it or not.” A few weeks later, a friend shared a bedtime encounter he’d had with his then six-year-old son. Upset that his father was putting him to bed earlier than he wanted to go, Benjamin said, “Daddy, I hate you.” Benjamin’s father, exercising the kind of parental wisdom I'd hope for, replied, “Ben, I’m sorry you feel that way, but I love you.” Benjamin’s response to such gracious words surprised his dad: “Don’t say that!” “I’m sorry Benjamin, but it’s true. I love you.” “Don’t,” his son protested, “Don’t say that again!” At which point Ben’s father, remembering the words of the sermon, said, “Benjamin, I love you…like it or not!” 

Why was Benjamin protesting his father’s love? Because he realized he could not control his father’s love and twist it to his advantage. Indeed, in the face of such love there is no bargaining and, ultimately, no control whatsoever. If his dad had said that if he ate all his vegetables he could stay up, or agreed that Ben could stay up later this night if he went to bed earlier the next, then Benjamin would have been a player, he would have exercised some measure of control over the situation and, indeed, over his dad. But in the face of unconditional love we are powerless. Yes, perhaps we can choose to accept it or not, perhaps we can run away from it, but we cannot influence it, manipulate it, or control it. In the face of this kind of love, we are powerless. And only when we’ve died to all of our delusions of actually being in control do we realize that such loss of perceived freedom and power is actually life.

God’s love, you see, is tenacious. And so God’s love will continue to chase after us, seeking to hold onto us and redeem us all the days of our lives, whether we like it or not. So maybe this is a verse, if we took it more seriously, that might terrify us in how it renders us powerless in a world literally hell-bent on accumulating and exercising power. Then again, maybe as we remember God’s tenacious love we might also realize that, precisely because this is the one relationship in our lives over which we have no power, it is also the one relationship we cannot screw up. Because God created it, God maintains it, and God will bring it to a good end, all through the power of God’s vulnerable, sacrificial, and ever so tenacious love. (Adapted from David Lose, “Partner in Preaching,” 3/9/15.)

Your Zeal for your house consumes me

 

 

In Matthew, Mark, and Luke the temple scene occurs following Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem; however, in John’s Gospel (John 2:13-25)  the episode is placed immediately following Jesus’ first “sign” (miracle) in his ministry, the wedding at Cana. 

 

The temple skirmish functions in the Synoptic Gospels as the final public act whereby the authorities make the decision to arrest and kill Jesus. We know that the raising of Lazarus serves as the final act that leads to his arrest. Restoring someone to life after having been dead frightens and challenges the Chief priests and Roman authorities and requires that he be removed in order that they stop Jesus movement and silence his followers.   

 

The incarnation of God in the world in Jesus underscores our shared intimacy with Jesus’ death, resurrection and our salvation. So what does this have to do with Jesus’ visceral reaction to the traffickers in the temple? We know from our readings of John that his overall mission is to reinforce our shared divinity with God through Christ and His and our resurrections. The Word became flesh and made His dwelling among us. We have seen His glory, the glory of the one and only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth. John 1:14. So, the commercial desecration of the temple while an important event in itself is for John, a metaphorical reference to the real Temple God. 

 
For Christians, the idea of God becoming accessible through the resurrected Jesus is empowering.  God's presence is pervasive and public. A hallowed temple is unnecessary to see him, know him or feel his presence. God's promises and our hopes aren't located in a specific site. Jesus, who now dwells among his people (and beyond), makes God accessible and extends God's presence into all aspects of our lives. Everything therefore has potential to be "sacred;" every dimension of daily living may become a place for encountering God. 

 

A Church or temple is a mere touch point that enables communities to congregate and share His Word and God’s presence with each other. It’s a place to “commune” in God. When Peter suggested that tabernacles be erected to memorialize the event of the transfiguration, a voice from the heavens, interrupted him and said…just Listen to Him. 

This is My Beloved…Listen to Him

 

 

I wonder how many of us know when we have heard and responded to God's voice. While reference to "a calling" is commonly associated with clergy, we don’t often consider that we’re “called” to a career or a secular vocation or even volunteering. But, why not? I pose this question because the story of the Transfiguration Mark (Mark 9:2-10) reminds us to listen to and look for God’s will for us in all we do. And just as the spectacular events of the transfiguration blinded Peter, James and John, we too can easily be distracted by the “noise.”

The scene as all things in Mark, moves very quickly as Peter in his excitement is eager to memorialize and do something to capture this transformative event… even before he even knows what he has seen or has transpired. We feel like saying to Peter "Please be quiet and just listen before you do anything!"  While he was still speaking, a cloud came and cast a shadow over them, and they became frightened when they entered the cloud. Then from the cloud came a voice that said, “This is my beloved Son; listen to him.” 

Maybe everything started to become clear and make sense to Peter when he listened and heard the word of God, but as we know too well, it didn't last very long.  How many times did Jesus remind Peter of his destiny? Peter may hear but is he really listening?   

Peter's transformation comes about when he repeatedly fails, falls, and is lifted up again. We too try our best and sometimes we succeed and sometimes we fail. We, too, have moments of insight and moments of denial. We too, fall down in fear and are raised up again and move ahead in confidence. This is a pattern that shapes all our lives on this spiritual journey. We all must face times of wilderness in our lives that ultimately lead to spiritual transformation and growth. This story is as much about us as it is about Peter and Jesus as we are asked to listen and to hear his voice and know God’s will for us. 

 In these past weeks Mark has called our attention to Jesus’ humanity in which we share a common bond. In this gospel Jesus' divinity is revealed in no uncertain terms: “This is my beloved Son…listen to Him.”. And as we share in Jesus’ humanity, we also share in his divinity. We must listen as we are called if we are to be transformed and become disciples of Jesus and the people of God. 

“There have been quite a few times when I have felt the winds of God’s grace in the sails of my small boat. Sometimes these graces have moved me in pleasant and sunlit directions. At other times the requested acts of love were born in the darkness of struggle and suffering. There have been spring times and there have been long cold winters of struggle for survival. God has come to me at times with the purest kindness, at times with the most affirming encouragement, and at other times with bold frightening challenges. I think that all of us have to watch and pray, to be ready to say “yes” when God’s language is concrete and his request is specific-“yes” in the sunlit spring times and “yes’ in the darkness of winter nights.” (John Powell, S.J., The Christian Vision, The Truth That Sets Us Free, p147)

Our Time in the Desert

 

Lent is an important part of our journey. Each step we take has been walked at one time in the gospels. We know that this our spiritual journey begins in the desert and leads us to the cross and to a tomb and “ends” with Easter, where our journey to God begins again. In our readings for the first Sunday in Lent, Mark 1:12-15, we are told that “Jesus was led by the Spirit into the wilderness, where for forty days he was tempted by the devil.”

I have been fortunate to have been able to travel fairly extensively in my life, both for business and pleasure. Admittedly travelling is one of my passions, although in recent years I have been more selective about travel and carefully assess my reasons, desire and need before heading out. Over the years I have observed that there are two types of journeymen. I would categorize these as being either tourists or travelers. The tourist travels through his journey in comfort, ensuring that his experiences are familiar and safe. He makes sure that he takes “his stuff” from back home with him. There are many vendors along the way who, for a price, would be willing to accommodate the tourist’s expectations and satisfy his needs, most of which are likely superficial and soon forgotten when he returns home armed with photos, souvenirs, and pleasant memories.

On the other hand, a traveler is one whose goal is to enjoy the journey as part of a total experience in which the destination is just a part of a continuum. He travels to open his mind and spirit to new experiences and perhaps delve into the unknown in the hope that something new will learned and be revealed. The difference between the traveler and the tourist is that the traveler becomes the experience while the tourist rides on the outside and looks in.

A few years ago, we took a trip to the Galapagos Islands. It had long been a desired destination for me. Our primary goal was to be immersed in the experience which as an expedition required our total involvement as our circumstances would permit. There were no cell phones, internet or TV and while our accommodations were relatively sparse, they were satisfactory. While this hardly could be called a luxurious vacation, it was one of the most exhilarating trips I’ve ever taken as we were living in the experience, absorbed by the journey… as an expedition, completely focused on the experience and unencumbered by distractions. The trip was one of personal transformation in which new perspectives on life and interests were born. These still linger, not just as memories but as building blocks for what might lie ahead.

Jesus’ time in the desert somehow relates to our journey as travelers, not just tourists. He leaves his comfort zone to prepare himself for what was to come, resisting anything that would get in the way of his quest. So, as we prepare for Lent we are reminded that the purpose of our existence is to walk with Jesus on his journey and live in his experience and know the presence of God in our lives.There is a seed of desire in each of us, a fundamental motivation, a basic longing for the fulfillment of that purpose.

“Augustine tells us that ‘Thou has made us for thyself and our hearts are restless until they rest in Thee.’ Accordingly, we are not only born with God at our center, but we are born with a heart filled with desire for God. This yearning is our fundamental motive force; it is the human spirit. It is the energy behind everything we seek and aspire to. And if indeed we are in intimate union with God in the center, then the soul’s desire is God’s desire. The soul’s love for God is God’s love for the soul.” (Gerald May, Dark Night of the Soul)

This is who God wants me to be

 

I mean no disrespect but in reading this story about Simon’s mother in law, I am reminded of a scene in the classic 1987 movie, Moonstruck in which Loretta’s (Cher) fiancé, Johnny, was summoned to Sicily to be with his dying mother. Johnny, played by Danny Aiello, telephones Loretta in tears, as he and the wailing women of the village keep vigil; “it’s just a matter of time,” he says. Then “miraculously”, out of the blue, Johnny’s mother is suddenly cured of her burning fever and jumps out of the bed and begins to prepare an elaborate dinner for all the “future mourners.” “It’s a miracle Johnny proclaims; my mother lives. It’s a sign and being superstitious, tells Loretta that he cannot marry her. To me, like Simon’s mother-in-law, the real miracle is that the old woman begins to cook and serves all the assembled guests.

While the healing of Simon’s mother-in-law is a classic healing story in Jesus’ ministry (Mark1:29-39), there is something a little disturbing about this story that  goes beyond healing. “Then the fever left her, and she began to serve them.” Doesn’t that strike us as being a little strange? Can you see why I am reminded of Johnny’s mother in Moonstruck? Virtually everyone I know who has had the flu and now I’m not talking about Covid 19, the scourge of our current lives. I’m referring to the “typical” SARS flu whose season begins in October and usually ends in April. No, the idea of popping out of bed and doing anything at all, much less serving guests a 5 course meal, is beyond inconceivable. I, after giving thanks to Jesus, would have asked the assembled supporters to help themselves to tea and month-old fruit cake in the kitchen and leave my home so that I could get some more rest.

I realize that in that time and in a time not so long ago, the matriarch’s role as keeper of the house was to serve her family and guests. In my own experience I clearly remember times when my mother, despite being unwell, still went about her chores and daily activities. But, if you are brought back from the edge of death, or from the brink of whatever you thought your life was all about, shouldn't there be something else for you, perhaps a higher calling to a new vocation, a new career, and a new identity? And yet for Simon’s mother it was business as usual and she served them? Wasn’t that what she was expected to do?

 

But, what if the healing of Simon’s mother-in-law gave her a new lease on life and a new purpose, beyond her traditional role as mother and house keeper? And what if in being brought back to who she was, she became a disciple, called to minister,
Jesus lifted her up. What if resurrection means being raised up to be the person you were always meant to be? Being raised up is not just some sort of spiritual future; it is your present reality, here and now an opportunity to live as the real you…in mind, body and spirit, everything that you were destined to be. The story of Simon’s mother-in-law reminds us that God does not call us to be something we are not but rather he is in the business of restoring us to who we really are.

Of course, most of the time it’s easier to live in the shadows of your false self and surround yourself with people and performances that allow you to pretend that this is you. This enables you to avoid the feelings and frustrations and fears that come with acknowledging what really is important in your life. I think a lot of us spend a good part of our lives living on the periphery of ourselves.

 God called Jesus to be who he was. That’s what the incarnation is all about. God, in Jesus, committed God’s self to be human and to show us how to live. Being who we really are is what God wants us to be. He brings us back from the shadows, from despair, from disease and desperation. God decided to become one of us so that we would know that He needs us to be a of  His almighty plan.