After the Parade

After the Parade

Mark 11:1-11

            Today is Palm Sunday.  Churches celebrate today in many different ways.  Some hold an outdoor procession, complete with palm branches.  Some processions include a donkey, either led by someone or with a Jesus figure on its back—or both.  Other churches celebrate by bringing palm branches down the aisle during the opening hymn.  For some reason these processionals often feature children, though how children got to be the center of attention on Palm Sunday I do not know.  Perhaps it’s because many of our Palm Sunday hymns talk about children.

It’s interesting that only one gospel writer mentions palm branches.  Matthew and Mark say the disciples (and onlookers) cut branches from trees.  Luke doesn’t mention tree branches at all.  Only John specifically identifies them as coming from palm trees.

The type of tree is interesting for both geographical and theological reasons.  Geographical first.  We know Jesus entered Jerusalem by the eastern road, coming down from the Mount of Olives.  The trees would have been (no surprise here) olive trees.  It would have been difficult to find a palm tree along that road.

Theologically, both palm trees and olive trees make sense.  Olive branches have long been a sign of peace.  Jesus rode on a donkey, another sign of peace.  Cutting olive branches and placing them on the road reinforces the idea that Jesus is coming in peace.  He is not a conqueror—at least not the military kind.  He has no intention of starting a coup—at least not the military kind. 

Contrast his entrance with the one Pilate would have made into Jerusalem with his troops. They came to ensure no trouble would occur during Passover.  He would have appeared astride a white horse—a symbol of military power.  He (or someone in his entourage) would have carried a palm branch—another symbol of imperial power.  Nothing would have been spared to impress the people with Rome’s dominance.  He was there to keep the peace—by force if necessary—not to bring peace.

I believe John had a theological reason for identifying the branches as those from palm trees.  For the Jews the date palm branch was a symbol of resurrection.  John wanted to impress on his followers that Jesus came to bring life—eternal life—both for him and for all those who follow him

Holy Week has begun.  Jesus’ life on earth is in its final days.  This time next week we’ll be celebrating the resurrection.  But what happens between these two Sundays?  The gospels make it clear.  Jesus is there to complete his earthly mission.  The fact that it will cost him his life means less than nothing.  He has a task, one that he must complete in four days.

Mark tells us Jesus goes to the temple, looks around, then returns to Bethany for the night.  The next day, Monday, he returns to the temple and drives out the moneychangers and those who sell animals for sacrifice.  Remember, these persons were not there to provide a service to out-of-town pilgrims.   They were making an illicit profit.  Jesus makes it clear that God’s house is a house of prayer, not a place to gouge people who have nowhere else to turn for sacrificial animals and Jewish coinage.

The rest of the gospel account is not separated into days, so we don’t know what happened each day.  What we do know is that Jesus spent the remaining time until his arrest making the case for his version of the kingdom of God.  That meant confronting the religious leaders and their incorrect version of the future. 

Jesus didn’t shy away from conflict; in fact, he seems to have sought it out, spending his days in the temple speaking the words God had given him regardless of the consequences.  In so doing, he established the pattern by which we must live our lives.

Patience

Patience

Ephesians 4:1-3

            “Lord, give me patience, and I want it now!”

            I don’t know about you, but that has been my thought—if not my prayer—far too often over the years.  I am not by nature a patient person.  I want what I want when I want it.  I’m not good at waiting.

            As I’ve gotten older I’ve begun to realize the need for more patience when I drive.  I know my reflexes aren’t as sharp as they once were, and even though I drive a pickup truck with a large eight-cylinder engine, I can’t always make it through those openings in traffic as I used to—and shouldn’t have tried even when my reflexes were better.

            So I pray.  Every morning during my devotions I visualize the general route I’ll be taking that day and ask God for patience.  I think it’s working.  At least that knot in my stomach isn’t as big when I get behind a driver whose concept of proper speed is slower than mine.

            But I know this is only the beginning.  There are many other areas of my life where I need to increase my patience quotient.  Conversations is one of the big ones.  I become disturbed when I realize the person I’m talking to isn’t really listening.  Instead he’s already framing his response to what I’m saying.  While this most often happens in a heated discussion (argument?) it can also occur in one of those exchanges of stories where people are trying to get to know each other better. 

You know how it works.  I tell you a story, then you tell me one, then it’s my turn again, and so on.  You can tell by the look in the other person’s eyes if she’s listening to your story or trying to come up with one that will match or top yours.  I become very unhappy when I sense this happening—until I realize that I’m doing the same thing back.  Oh, the horror of seeing our sins in others!

John Dewey said, “The most useful virtue is patience.”  Good salespersons know this.  They’ll let you take infinite time to make up your mind.  They try to get you to sell yourself rather than talk you into making a decision.  When I find myself working with someone like this I’m inclined to buy more, because I feel I’m being listened to and not rushed.  We once bought two cars from such a salesman, when we only intended to buy one.

I suspect our natural inclination is toward impatience.  Whatever we’re doing, we want to get it done so we can move on to our next task, our next project—even our next pleasure.  The alternative, the truly patient person must be trained—or train himself.  I remember watching a man change a watch battery for me.  He moved so slowly and carefully I knew he was taking the same infinite care with that simple task as he would have repairing the most expensive watch.  The fact that his patience drove me crazy was my problem, not his. 

Paul does not appear to have been a patient person.  He seems to have been much more a man of action than of repose.  But now he finds himself imprisoned.  He was under house arrest; he couldn’t go out.  He had to wait for people to come to him.  He had to learn to be content in quarters far more cramped than the vast expanse of the Gentile world he was used to roaming during his missionary journeys.  Yet here he is encouraging his friends in Ephesus to walk, “with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love…”  That must have been learned behavior for him.  But it is sound advice.

Someone once said, “God gave everyone patience.  Wise people use it.”  Wise counsel indeed.

Storytelling

Storytelling

Mark 10:17-34

            The gospels of Matthew, Mark and Luke are journey stories.  Jesus begins his ministry in Galilee, travels around the area preaching, teaching, healing and casting out demons.  At a crucial point, Jesus turns his face toward Jerusalem.  Knowing his time has come, Jesus journeys to the place where everything will come to a head.  He may not know every detail of what the next few weeks will hold, but he knows what the end will be.

            And so he tries to prepare his disciples for his torture, execution, and resurrection.  Three times he tells them what lies ahead.  The first happens (Mark 8:27-39) after Peter confesses him as the Christ.  Peter gives a bold answer to Jesus’ question, “Who do you say that I am?”  Jesus counters with the announcement that he will suffer, be rejected by the religious leaders, and die.  Peter hears this, but not that Jesus says he will be raised in three days.  He rebukes Jesus, who rebukes him in return.

            The second time comes after Jesus heals a boy with epilepsy (Mark 9:14-32).  Peter, James and John have just witnessed the transfiguration—Jesus glorification and conversation with Moses and Elijah.  As they return to the foot of the mountain, a crowd surges toward them.  The disciples who remained behind have tried to cast a demon out of the boy and failed.  They can’t understand how this could happen, since Jesus had given them the power.

            Jesus heals the boy, then tells the disciples that this type of demon requires more prayer and faith than they are capable of at that moment.  Shortly after, he tells them a second time that he will be killed, and after three days will rise from the dead.  They still don’t understand.

            Farther along the road to Jerusalem Jesus encounters a man who wishes to assure his place in the age to come.  Jesus tells him he must divest himself of his considerable wealth and join him on the road to Jerusalem.  The man cannot bring himself to meet Jesus’ conditions, and sorrowfully turns away.

Jesus tells his followers once more what will happen when they reach Jerusalem.  It is clear from the following passage (Mark 10:35-45) they still don’t understand what Jesus means. 

We wonder, from our lofty vantage point 2,000 years on, how they could have been so blind.  Before we condemn them we must first recognize our own short-sightedness in following Jesus, and admit we wouldn’t have behaved any better.

            In each case Jesus ties the prediction of his death and resurrection to an event which, had the disciples been paying attention, would have served as an illustration. 

Peter declares that Jesus is the Messiah.  Jesus connects that confession to Isaiah’s description of the anointed one as suffering servant.

Jesus casts out a demon, figuratively (at least) bringing the boy back to life.  Jesus connects his raising of the boy to his own resurrection.

A rich man will not give up his possessions to attain a higher reward.  Jesus tells his disciples he will follow his path to the end even though it means his death, because the final reward is worth it.

This is great storytelling.  Mark tells a tale illustrating Jesus’ power, then Jesus uses it as an object lesson to create a teachable moment for his followers.  It is less important that the disciples understand than that the lesson is presented, because we know, in the end, they will understand. 

And so will we.

Opportunity

Opportunity

Matthew 25:14-30

            The parable of the talents.  How often this story has been used incorrectly, defining the word talent as an ability, with the speaker urging his audience not to bury their talents but to develop them.  It’s not a bad way to use the story, but it’s not what Jesus had in mind.

            A talent was a sum of money worth about twenty years’ wages to a common laborer.  This would be more money than a servant would earn in his lifetime.  Five talents—even two would be a fortune beyond his comprehension.

            Yet here is the master, giving large sums of money to three of his servants—we assume the most trusted ones—to care for while he is away.  What will they do with it?  How can they repay their master for his trust in them?

            We know the story.  The one who had received five talents used them to double his master’s money.  Now there were ten talents where there had been five.  The man who had received two talents did likewise, turning his two into four.  The master was pleased with their industry, their business acumen, and, of course, the results.  Because they had been so productive they were given increased responsibilities in their master’s kingdom.

            It should be noted here that Matthew tells us early in the parable that Jesus said the money had been distributed to each of the servants “according to his ability.”  We can assume that the servant who received one talent, while trusted by his master, had less ability than the other two.  Nevertheless, the master clearly valued this man, and assumed he would succeed as well as did his more able colleagues.

            But he didn’t.  He was a cautious fellow, and, not wanting to incur his master’s wrath if he lost the talent, he buried it.  (This is the place in the sermon where the preacher warns about burying your talent.)

            When he told his master what he had done the lord was furious at his lack of ingenuity and effort.  He had been given a great opportunity and he had wasted it.  Harry S. Truman once said, “A pessimist is one who makes difficulties of opportunities, and an optimist is one who makes opportunities of his difficulties.”  The third servant definitely fits the pessimist category. 

            How often do we miss an opportunity for service because we’re afraid to take a chance?  Jesus set the standard for risk taking.  He knew what his ministry would cost him, but he also knew he had been given a great opportunity, and he didn’t waste it.

            We also miss opportunities because we’re looking in the wrong direction.  Alexander Graham Bell, himself a risk taker, said, “When one door closes another door opens; but we often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door, that we do not see the ones which open for us.”

            Every day God gives us is an opportunity for service.  Every morning begins another day when, if we’ll look in the right direction, and be prepared to take risks, opportunity will be waiting for us, holding open a door that God is calling us to go through.

            And that brings us to a third reason we miss opportunity.  This appeared in the National Safety News, January, 2006.  “Opportunity is often missed because we are broadcasting when we should be tuning in.”

            God is always broadcasting.  Are we tuned in enough to hear?

Your Mission, Should You Choose to Accept...

Your Mission, Should You Choose to Accept…

Matthew 25:31-40

            This isn’t the first time I’ve written on this passage, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.  I find myself drawn to Jesus’ description of the final judgment over and over.  I can’t get away from it.

            As a young man, Isaac Watts complained to his minister father about the deadly dullness of the hymns sung in their church.  The elder Watts said what should always be said to the younger generation: “If you don’t like it, fix it.”—specifically, “Write your own hymns.”  And so Isaac did.  He became one of Christianity’s influential hymn writers.  One of his most well-known hymns begins:

Am I a soldier of the cross,

A follower of the Lamb,

And shall I fear to own his cause,

Or blush to speak his name?

            It’s easy to fall into the trap of confessing Jesus Christ as our Lord and Savior and figuring we’re set.  We don’t have to worry any more.  As a pastor once said to me, “Your ticket is punched.”  This is true as far as it goes, but it doesn’t go far enough.

            We are called to be missionaries—not in the faraway, foreign country sense, but in the way Jesus was a missionary.  He had a mission to perform.  As he said, he came not to be served but to serve.  In Matthew 25 he passes that sense of mission to his followers, and he makes it not a request but an order.  Jesus doesn’t say, “If you have nothing else to occupy your day…,” or, “In your spare time…,” or, “I’d appreciate it if you would consider…”  He says this is what we must be doing in order to inherit the kingdom he has prepared. 

            This is not an easy assignment.  Sometimes we’ll make mistakes, and give or do the wrong thing, failing or offending those we are supposed to be serving.  Sometimes we’ll meet opposition.  As Steve Hedgren says, “If a project is good and it is going to make a difference, there will always be opposition.” 

Sometimes we’ll be so weary in well-doing that we’ll want to pack it in.  We’ll say, “Surely I’ve done enough.  Jesus must be pleased with my effort.  Time to rest on my accomplishments.”  Isaac Watts expresses those sentiments this way:

Must I be carried to the skies

On flowery beds of ease,

While others fight to win the prize,

And sail on stormy seas?

            He answers his own question (my paraphrase):

No! I must fight if I would win,

Increase my courage, Lord!

I’ll bear the toil, endure the pain,

Supported by thy word.

            Francis Bacon put it this way: “Here is a test to see if your mission on earth is finished.  If you’re alive—it isn’t.”  Jesus puts no time limit on our mission, no specific number of cups of cold water served, or visits to the sick, or meals delivered.  His implication is that we are to keep serving to the end.  In fact, he makes it clear in the first half of Chapter 25 that we are to be vigilant because we do not know when our end will be.

            So we must keep going—going to the place where those in need are to be found.  As Tony Campolo says, “Jesus never says to the poor, ‘Come find the church,’ but He says to those of us in the church, ‘Go into the world and find the poor, hungry, homeless, imprisoned.’”

            And serve them in Jesus’ name.

Curiosity

Curiosity

Genesis 1:26-27

            For the first time in a very long career I’m teaching philosophy.  I’ve never liked philosophy, because the only way philosophers seem to relate is to shoot each other down.  One makes a statement.  The next one says, “You can’t possibly be right.”  Both of them are challenged by a third, then a fourth.  Then the first one weighs in and the process begins over again.  This produces a never-ending cycle of statement-criticism-criticism that seems to go round in circles without getting any nearer a solution.

            That’s the way I saw philosophy until I began to teach it.  Now I see how kernels of truth come out in each philosopher’s writing, not necessarily getting to the truth, but stating parts of a truth.

            My classes have been struggling with the question, “Does God exist?”  This has been difficult for some who have been taught the truth all their lives.  Now they must question their version of the truth to discover how true it is.  In the response papers they turn in at the end of class I’m beginning to see comments like, “I’m confused.”  This lets me know I’m making progress—not that I want them confused, but I do want them thinking.  Out of that confusion will come a truth that will lead them closer to the truth, which is that we can only speculate on what God is like, and only see a little part of God’s infinite greatness—and that will have to be enough.

            Some of these students have been told they should not question God or anything about God.  The first thing I teach them is that it’s alright to question God about anything, including God’s existence.  Bertrand Russell said it best: “And if there were a God, I think it very unlikely that He would have such an uneasy vanity as to be offended by those who doubt His existence.”  God wouldn’t be much of a God if offense was taken so easily. 

            Humans struggle with what it means to be created in God’s image.  We know we don’t share a physical image.  How, then, are we like God?  I’ve heard a few answers that I like. 

One is our ability to reason.  The ability to think things through and come to a logical conclusion seems to set us apart from the rest of the animal kingdom. 

Throughout the Hebrew Scriptures God is the only one who is creative, yet humans also possess that ability.  We create works of art, invent marvelous machines, design buildings, develop new medicines—all signs that we possess this God-like ability.

We can feel compassion.  Unfortunately, most of are not as compassionate as we should be, either in depth or in breadth, but we do possess the ability to care.

Let me share one more way I believe humans are like God:  curiosity.  I believe God must have been curious to see how the universe and all the varieties of creation would turn out.  I also believe that God, existing outside time and therefore able to see the entire scope of history—past, present and future—in a panorama, is still curious to see how we rational, creative, sometimes compassionate humans will use our God-given abilities—to work things out.

Samuel Johnson said, “Curiosity is one of the permanent and certain characteristics of a vigorous intellect.”  It’s also, I believe, a quality given to us by our Creator.

I design my courses to reward, as far as possible, the student who is curious and believes in hard work.  Surely God will reward the curious as well with answers to their questions.

The Forty-Day Preparation

The Forty-Day Preparation

Mark 1:12-13

            Lent begins Wednesday—Ash Wednesday.  Wednesday is also Valentine’s Day.  Interesting!  I’m sure that must have happened before in my life, but I can’t remember when it was—and my memory isn’t that far gone. 

I looked it up.  The last time Ash Wednesday and Valentine’s Day coincided was 1945, when I was a mere three years old.  No wonder I don’t remember!

            Now that we’ve established my age and my memory, what is Lent?  The word is derived from the Old English lencten which means spring season.  Lent is also called (in Latin) Quadragesima, which means fortieth.  Lent is the forty days (minus Sundays) before Easter.  It ends on Maundy Thursday, which is three days before Easter.  This year Easter falls on April Fool’s Day (April 1), which presents another interesting set of possibilities. 

            Lent is a time of introspection, a time when we are invited to look closely at our lives, see where we’re going wrong, and affirm our desire to make corrections.  It is a time of penance, of self-denial, and of repentance. 

Repentance is one of those words we use more casually than we should.  One young child asked to define repentance, said, “It means being sorry enough to quit.”  I couldn’t say it any better.  It means to turn around from the direction in which we have been going and to start moving in the opposite direction.  You can see why “being sorry enough to quit” is such a good definition.  You can also see what I mean when I say we use the word much too casually.

How should we observe Lent?  I’m tempted to say “celebrate” Lent, but I’m not sure that’s the correct word.  If it is, it opens up a whole new definition of celebrate. 

Some people fast as a replication and remembrance of the forty days Jesus spent in the wilderness.  Mark tells us that Jesus was alone during that time, accompanied by wild beasts and angels—quite a combination.  Mark doesn’t say Jesus fasted in the wilderness, but other gospel writers make that a part of his experience there.  Mark also doesn’t tell us whether the wild beasts bothered Jesus.  Perhaps the presence of the angels made that impossible.  We are told that the angels ministered to Jesus.  Perhaps that ministry included food and water, perhaps it didn’t.  We can’t be sure. 

What we can be sure of is that Jesus would have been alone with his thoughts.  He had just been baptized—ordained for ministry—when the Spirit drove him into the wilderness, there to be without human contact for what must have seemed a very long time.

Many people who choose not to fast choose instead to give something up for Lent.  Whatever that something is, it should be real self-denial.  If I gave up Brussels sprouts that wouldn’t be much of a sacrifice since I don’t eat them anyway.  In our church we are invited to contribute the money we would have spent on whatever we give up to a scholarship fund that helps children attend our denominational camp.  That’s a positive way to enhance self-denial.

There are some who, instead of giving something up (or perhaps in addition to giving something up), take on a spiritual discipline—a period of personal devotions, or a commitment to spend more time in prayer or in Bible reading.  Fasting is also a spiritual discipline.

My suggestion for this year is that we make an effort to connect whatever we do to the specialness of this Ash Wednesday.  The point of Valentine’s Day is love.  The point of Jesus’ life and death is love.  Perhaps we could focus on loving more—loving more people and loving the people we love more fully.  That seems like a fitting way to observe—celebrate—Lent.