Sermon: Natures of Power

Lectionary: Palm/Passion Sunday Year A

Texts: Philippians 2:5-11; Matthew 21:1-11

A Choice
Lauren Wright Pittman, 2018

Jesus directs a couple of his disciples to fetch a donkey and a colt and bring it back to him. This isn’t some random request or an impromptu activity. This is prearranged. What Jesus is about to perform is a deliberate demonstration – a parody of a Roman imperial procession. Through this parody, Jesus contrasts two different kinds of power and rule, two differing ways of defining kingship.

This procession instigated by Jesus, on the Sunday prior to his crucifixion, is often referred to as the triumphal entry, but that is a misnomer. It is a triumphal entry only in its parody of the Roman version. Those following Jesus likely would have expected him to use the opportunity to seize power, and at least for a few days it seems like Jesus continues to increase his power and influence. But the week finishes in dishonor, shame, and defeat… at least when judged by human standards of triumph and victory.

There are a couple of small, but important, textual details in the Palm Sunday narrative. The first to point out is that the text describes two different crowds: one is mostly Galileans who followed Jesus and sang his praises; the other is the Judean crowds of Jerusalem who ask, “Who is this?” These are two distinct crowds. When later in the week the crowd turns against Jesus, it is the Jerusalem crowd.

The second point to note is that the procession ends before Jesus enters Jerusalem proper. The procession and acclamations are finished in Matthew 21:9. Jesus enters Jerusalem in verse 10. This sequence rendered more precisely in Mark 11.

When the processional crowd shouts “Hosanna”, they are praising Jesus as the son of David who they expect will bring salvation to them. But how that salvation is inaugurated is utterly unexpected and despicable.

Christianity has sanitized the symbol of the cross. Many wear it as a sign of honor and respect. Some may wear it with pride. And there are some who wear it shamelessly even when their actions contradict the values of Jesus. But hardly anyone feels shame to be associated with it.

For the early followers of Christ, it held mixed messages. On one hand, it was a symbol of the worst kind of suffering and shame that the imperial powers could inflict on who they considered worthless and utterly disposable. On the other hand, because Jesus had accepted his lot with the worthless and disposable and died in shame and dishonor, Christians could be assured of their worth in the sight of God.

In deliberately presenting himself before Jerusalem as its messianic king, Jesus has chosen an OT model which subverts any popular militaristic idea of kingship. The meek, peaceful donkey-rider of Zech 9:9 is not a potential leader of an anti-Roman insurrection. In [Matthew] 20:25–28 Jesus has spoken of a type of leadership which is completely opposed to the world’s notions of kingship and authority, and now he models it in the “meekness” of his royal procession to the city. (France, 2007)

Our text from Philippians is what many scholars believe is one of the earliest Christian hymns about Christ. Paul is probably not its author, but he included it because it spoke to what he was trying to convey. To understand why, we need to back up in the letter to chapter 1, verse 27, and begin reading from there.

Here it is from The Message translation:

^27-30 Meanwhile, live in such a way that you are a credit to the Message of Christ. Let nothing in your conduct hang on whether I come or not. Your conduct must be the same whether I show up to see things for myself or hear of it from a distance. Stand united, singular in vision, contending for people’s trust in the Message, the good news, not flinching or dodging in the slightest before the opposition. Your courage and unity will show them what they’re up against: defeat for them, victory for you—and both because of God. There’s far more to this life than trusting in Christ. There’s also suffering for him. And the suffering is as much a gift as the trusting. You’re involved in the same kind of struggle you saw me go through, on which you are now getting an updated report in this letter.

2 ^1-4 If you’ve gotten anything at all out of following Christ, if his love has made any difference in your life, if being in a community of the Spirit means anything to you, if you have a heart, if you care—then do me a favor: Agree with each other, love each other, be deep-spirited friends. Don’t push your way to the front; don’t sweet-talk your way to the top. Put yourself aside, and help others get ahead. Don’t be obsessed with getting your own advantage. Forget yourselves long enough to lend a helping hand.

^5-8 Think of yourselves the way Christ Jesus thought of himself. He had equal status with God but didn’t think so much of himself that he had to cling to the advantages of that status no matter what. Not at all. When the time came, he set aside the privileges of deity and took on the status of a slave, became human! Having become human, he stayed human. It was an incredibly humbling process. He didn’t claim special privileges. Instead, he lived a selfless, obedient life and then died a selfless, obedient death—and the worst kind of death at that—a crucifixion.

^9-11 Because of that obedience, God lifted him high and honored him far beyond anyone or anything, ever, so that all created beings in heaven and on earth—even those long ago dead and buried—will bow in worship before this Jesus Christ, and call out in praise that he is the Master of all, to the glorious honor of God the Father. (Philippians 2:5-11, The Message)

John Van De Laar writes this about the city of Philippi:

The city of Philippi “prided itself on its loyalty to the Roman Empire and its ‘Lord,’ Caesar”. As a Roman colony, it held a privileged place in the Empire; its citizens enjoyed the same status as those who lived in Rome itself, and the population included many veteran Roman soldiers. In this society, honour, status, and power held great value, and it seems that this culture had infiltrated the church. Paul’s letter reveals that there was competition, rivalry, and dissension in the community. And so Paul wrote to the believers and pleaded with them to “adopt the attitude that was in Christ Jesus” (2:5). (Van De Laar, 2026)

Paul is trying to get across to his audience that the glory and honor of Christ Jesus is not like that of the Roman Emperor. The Roman Emperor is considered godlike because “he rules mercilessly over the violently conquered territories.” (Van De Laar, 2026) This is the default view of gods through human history. Even today, Christians have a difficult time abandoning this view of God. Many Christians seek to walk the halls and chambers of power, to amass material wealth, recognition, and honor, and justify the use of violence and war in the name of God. “When we cling to an image of God that is defined by power and domination, we have to ignore most of Jesus’ life and message.” (Van De Laar, 2026)

On Palm Sunday, Jesus began the demonstration of the stark difference in what he valued vs. what the world values. The demonstration will continue through the week and end at the cross, when the world crucified Jesus to silence the voice that announced an alternate kingdom, a kingdom where no one held power over another, a kingdom that threatened all other kingdoms based on holding on to power over.

On Palm Sunday, Jesus comically showed what it looks like to renounce “power-by-dominance and join the dance of true freedom.” (Van De Laar, 2026) Jesus showed that what looks like mundane or even failure to the world is where the power of divinity can be found.

By becoming human, and remaining one, Jesus raised humanity along with himself. We do not have to become something else to have worth and value. Honor and glory are not found by pursuing it. Rather, to mutually give to and serve one another in humility and love is how we join the work of Christ in building his kingdom and share in Christ’s honor and glory.

In the name of God who Creates,

In the name of God who Loves,

In the name of God who exposes our desire for illicit power, Amen.

References

Bartlett, D. L., & Brown Taylor, B. (2010). Feasting on the Word: Year A, Volume 2. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press.

Cousar, C. B. (2013). Reading Galatians, Philippians, and 1 Thessalonians: A Literary and Theological Commentary. Macon, GA: Smyth & Helwys Publishing, Inc.

Craddock, F. B. (1985). Philippians: Interpretation - A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching. Louisville, KY: John Knox Press.

France, R. T. (2007). New International Commentary on the New Testament: Matthew. Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co.

Van De Laar, J. (2026, March 23). Lectionary Reflection for Palm-Passion Sunday A on Philippians 2:5-11. Retrieved from Sacredise Your Life!: https://sacredise.substack.com/p/lectionary-reflection-for-palm-passion

William B. Eerdmans. (2003). Eerdman's Commentary on the Bible. Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans.

 

 

Sermon: Against the Powers of this World

Lectionary: Proper 29(B), Reign of Christ
Text: Revelation 1:4b-8; John 18:33-37

Christ and Pilate (17c. Flemish)

Jesus is often interpreted as being apolitical, avoiding taking sides in matters of civic debate. One might even point to today’s reading from John’s gospel as such an example – Jesus stepped around being identified as a political individual.

But a careful reading shows that Jesus does take a position. Yes, the position Jesus takes is neither for nor against Rome, at least in the usual sense, but he takes a third position that goes beyond normal human assumptions of politics and rule. I would even identify as Jesus being anti-political in his response. Jesus does not claim to be the king of the Jews. Thus, he is not specifically for the Jews, and therefore, he is not against Rome. But Jesus claims a kingdom. Therefore, he is simultaneously against all human systems of nations, states, rulers, and forms of governance. The kingdom of God is, in one sense, not in competition with human rule, but in simultaneously, completely against it.

As followers and disciples of Jesus Christ, those of us who claim to be Christians should have the same perspective on human systems of authority and rule that Jesus had. While we must live in the present world, we cannot hold and declare allegiance to any human ruler, state, or nation. If we seriously live out this principle, I suspect we will be looked upon with suspicion and could quite possibly experience some form of persecution. But most of us, me included, prefer a more comfortable and stable life and so we make compromises. We need to be reminded of Jesus’ words that his followers must “take up their cross daily” and “lose their lives” (Luke 9:23-24).

The last book of our Bible, which we call Revelation, was written to Christian communities that were tired of being looked upon with suspicion, experiencing difficulties in getting along with the rest of Roman society, their neighbors, and possibly experiencing persecution sometimes. The main accusation that is directed against these churches is that they have compromised. John, the Revelator, reveals to the Christian communities what is going on, both visible and unseen, and exhorts them to return to full, undivided allegiance to Jesus Christ and to him alone.

The gospel account of John does not have much to say about the description of the kingdom of God. However, the other gospel accounts contain descriptions, many which are couched in the language of parables. A summary of God’s kingdom from these texts is that it arrives quietly, subtly, and slowly; it is not accompanied by huge proclamations, power, might, or conquering; and it is most easily found and entered by those who in this world, are powerless, weak, humble, persecuted, marginalized, oppressed, victimized, abused. The entire concept of power is turned upside down in God’s kingdom: the servants are kings, the poor are wealthy, there is no hierarchy of power, those who give up their lives gain it, those who sought no recognition or reward receive them.

When some modern Christians envision Christ’s return and reign in power, they picture a conquering king, slaying his enemies and using a type of military power and might to destroy all who oppose him. There is a blood bath where power and authority are imposed, and fear is driven into any who might be wavering. Christ reigns with absolute authority that none dare question.

It is my emphatic belief that this is not the correct picture of Christ’s reign as king.

The reign of Christ in his kingdom is for him to serve all who are there. Power and authority are not imposed onto his subjects. Power is not used to coerce or intimidate. Authority is not used to invoke fear. The only power Christ has is the persuasive power of infinite love.

In the gospels, Jesus tells his hearers that the kingdom of God is already among them, and therefore also among us. Like the parable of the mustard seed, it may only be a sprout, but it has the potential to grow. But It can only grow when we are fully committed to the kingdom and Christ’s way of persuasive love. We cannot advance Christ’s work and grow his kingdom by employing the methods and tactics of this world. We should be cautious and skeptical about blindly adopting practices that might be successful in business, government, and other organizations. We need to ask the question, “What kind of power dynamics is assumed and promoted by this practice?”

As much as we might wish to see our church grow and the way of Christ embraced more broadly, Revelation offers yet another sobering insight: nothing that is formed by this world, governments and businesses, certainly, but yes, even churches, will never be transformed into the kingdom of God. Babylon, Revelation’s code for abusive power, is within all human-originated structures.

What all this tells me is that the kingdom of God cannot be identified by physical boundaries. It does not have visible boundaries. None of us can state for certain who is in and out. It is not limited to those who have and profess “correct” beliefs. It is far broader and more inclusive than any of us can possibly imagine.

That isn’t to say there is no boundary. The inhabitants of God’s kingdom, the New Jerusalem, must be protected from harm. Therefore, any who seek to use and abuse others are excluded from the New Jerusalem. Those who seek to have power over another are excluded.

Where does this leave us, we who live in the in-between, already in God’s kingdom yet still physically living in this world?

First it should give us hope. When we don’t see the world becoming more just and equitable, we don’t need to lose hope because we know that this world’s systems will never be transformed into the kingdom of God.

The flip side of this is a warning. We should not place our hope for a better future in this world’s systems. Christianity cannot be imposed into the world’s systems to turn them into a part of the kingdom of God. “Christianizing” power systems cannot transform them into God’s kingdom. In fact, doing this is very much the definition of Babylon.

This isn’t to say that we should give up on making this world a better place. We can and should do what we can to effect governance and policies that are more just and equitable, create a world that is more humane and livable, reduce fear and violence, and improve human relationships and acceptance of one another. We do this while cognizant that this will not transform the present world into the kingdom of God. Thus, we do not lose hope when our efforts seem so meager against a storm of opposition. But like Jesus, we bring compassion and relief wherever we are able.

On this Christ the King Sunday, we are reminded of what Jesus said.

“My kingdom doesn’t originate from this world. If it did, my guards would fight so that I wouldn’t have been arrested by the Jewish leaders. My kingdom isn’t from here.” (John 18:36 CEB)

Take everything you know about how earthly kings, prime ministers, and presidents wield power. Turn that upside down. A powerless individual, at least in our eyes. That is Jesus Christ the King. He relinquished power and allowed himself to be crucified. That is our calling to follow Jesus as his disciples.

Take everything you know about the most powerful nations and empires and how they managed and maintained their power: the Roman Empire, the British Empire, the many other European colonizing powers, Japan, Russia, China, and yes the United States. Turn that upside down. Powerless nations and empires that wouldn’t last many days. Yet that is how the kingdom of God works: by giving away power so that more can be served and receive the benefits of the kingdom.

We must resist the temptation to see God’s kingdom and Christ’s reign as they are like what we know about kingdoms and kings. Doing so only increases our compromise into Babylon.

I suggest that like Jesus, we become anti-political against the powers of this world.

Sermon: Get Behind Me, Satan!

Lectionoary: Lent 2A
Text: Mark 8:27-9:1

Get Thee Behind Me, Satan! (Tissot)

Introduction – the Allure of Power

When we think of power and the powerful, what are the things that come to mind? Billionaires and their influence over the economy? Leaders of nations? The strength of military might? Autocrats and dictators who hold life and death in their hands? Politicians who hold purse strings? Corporate CEOs? Sports figures, entertainers, etc. that command huge followings and associated paydays? Pastors with mega and giga churches? Leaders of influential religious organizations? Love them or hate them, we cannot deny that these things are a large presence in our world and our lives.

The allure of power is strong. Whether in 1^st century Palestine, or in 21^st century America, the temptation to seize upon power or at least to be aligned with the powerful is nearly impossible to escape. Power – through position, wealth and both – is offered and withheld to influence and control outcomes beneficial to the powerful. The less powerful cling to the coattails of those with more power to attempt to ride up the ladder and share the crumbs that fall.

Are any of us completely immune to the attractions of power and what it offers? In the Christian calendar, the seasons of both Advent and Lent are times when the subject matter should lead us away from the pursuit of power. Or at least from the popular, temporal concepts of power.

Even in a common Christian phrase, paraphrased “Jesus will return in glory and power”, the common imaginations of power make its way. When we hear that, the imagination runs to a conquering general or king, slaying his enemies as he leads his victorious army.

That Jesus will return in glory and power could imply that during his time on earth as a human, Jesus didn’t have power…, or at least the kind of power that we think ultimately matters.

How we define power and how we view the power wielded by Jesus matters to what it means to be a disciple of Jesus and follow him. To get this wrong is to be on the receiving end of Jesus’ rebuke, “Get behind me, Satan”.

Recap – Gospel Reading

What did you hear when you heard today’s gospel reading? Jesus asked his disciples who others said he was, and then after receiving responses, asked the disciples who they thought he was. Peter responded (speaking for all of them) that Jesus was the Messiah, the Christ, the Anointed One. And then Jesus tells them to not say this to anyone. Immediately afterwards Jesus begins speaking plainly that the Christ must be rejected by those in power and authority, suffer, be killed, and then rise again.

It is at this point that Peter tries to correct Jesus and where Jesus rebukes Peter, saying, “Get behind me, Satan. You are not thinking God’s thoughts but human thoughts.”

Jesus then gathers the crowd together and speaks about what it means to follow him. It involves denying themselves, taking up the cross, and the following Jesus. These are common phrases that we have heard and so maybe do not resonate very strongly with us. But for those who were hearing it for the first time, it meant identifying with the cruelest, most excruciating, and most humiliating form of torture and execution. Jesus further tells the crowd that those who follow him must be willing to lose their lives, and I don’t think he meant it metaphorically. I believe Jesus meant this quite literally.

Context One – Narrative Setting

There are a couple of contexts that we need to consider. The first is the context of the setting in which this narrative takes place. Jesus and his disciples were in the region of Caesarea Phillipi. We probably gloss over this as just an interesting mention of geography. But this is a key detail vital to interpreting this narrative, a narrative that is a turning point in Mark’s gospel account.

Up to this point, Jesus had been performing miracles and winning arguments with the learned scholars and authorities. He was amazing the people. He was defeating demons and demonstrating victory over religious and political powers. Jesus’ power and influence was rising in the popular minds.

It is then that Mark’s account mentions Caesarea Phillipi. David Jacobsen, in his commentary on Mark writes about the significance of the setting:

We begin by noting the setting in 8:27-30… First, we note that the location of the action is Caesarea Phillipi. The name indicates the city was named after Caesar. However, since another Caesarea nearby shared that name, it is distinguished with the second name Phillipi, referring to Phillip, one of Herod’s nearby ruling sons. Digging deeper, one notices that this region has a symbolic significance for our revelatory interlude at the mountain of transfiguration. The region, as Adela Yarebro Collins points out, was connected not only with Mount Hermon[1], but it was also an important location associated first with ruler cults stretching back to the Ptolemies and as recent as a new Herodian temple “in honor of Augustus.” In short, this revelatory discussion is happening in a region of imperial religious significance. It is no mere bit of local color or backdrop but is central to understanding the give and take that results in Peter’s confession. Second, the narrator goes out of his way to describe Jesus’ initiatory question in the dialogue as happening “on the way” in v. 28. “On the way is” is discipleship language. We are thus engaging the back and forth of question and response, rebuke and rebuke, in the material that follows not as an intellectual exercise, nor even as one about Christological speculation, but as one connected deeply to discipleship and the nature of the gospel itself. (Jacobsen, 2014)

Considering that information, what I see is the Markan gospel informing his readers that yes, Jesus has been demonstrating his power, and one might be tempted to seize upon it to gain religious, political, and military benefits. But that is not the power of Jesus.

A few weeks ago I noted in the sermon that the Markan account of the wilderness test does not include details nor the “Get behind me, Satan” words that are recorded in Matthew, or the “Don’t test the Lord” found in Luke. But we find “Get behind me, Satan” in Mark at this midpoint of his gospel. A plausible interpretation is that this is the point in Mark’s gospel where Jesus is strongly tested to take the easier path, the path of using his miraculous powers and ability to outwit the learned minds to lead the nation, build an empire, and rule the world.

It is at this point where Christians, Christian organizations and churches throughout history have been tempted and often failed. The offer of power often seems innocuous and even beneficial. Who wouldn’t think that a little bit of gaining influence from the power-that-be wouldn’t be beneficial to the proclamation and spread of the gospel? But from gaining a little bit of help from the governing powers, it soon leads to the thought that if a little power is good, more power would be better. Wouldn’t a Christian nation that follows Christian principles be a great idea? And from there the national agenda becomes “what God wants.” (And by the way, who gets to define what is “Christian” and what isn’t?)

If Jesus were to come amongst us today, I suspect there will be a quite a lot of, “Get behind me, Satan,” coming from his mouth.

Context Two – Literary Setting

The second context to consider in reading this text is that setting in which the gospel account was weaved and edited together and the audience to whom it was written. The account was probably written not too long after the destruction of Jerusalem in 70 CE. Although there are no records of systematic persecution of Christians during the first century, there were sporadic, regional persecutions. The Great Fire of Rome in 64 CE was blamed on Christians.

Christians were still a small sect that was ostensibly Jewish, but the separation had begun. Perhaps some of the Jewish communities and synagogues had already begun to reject the followers of Jesus and deny the religious protections that they had been under as Jews.

In times of suffering, distress, and uncertainty, apocalyptic literature flourishes. We see this in our own history. During uncertain times, arts and entertainment tend to get darker as they utilize the apocalyptic genre to try to explain what happened, what is going on, and to offer a dark hope for the future.

It was no different in ancient times. Daniel is an apocalyptic book written sometime during the second century BCE, where the Jews attempt to explain what has happened with the rise of Antiochus IV Epiphanes of the Seleucid Empire and his desecration of the Temple.

The book of Revelation is a Christian apocalyptic literature that attempts to explain what has happened from the destruction of the Temple and the seemingly unstoppable power of the Roman Empire against God.

Here are a few features that are common through apocalyptic literature. The first is that they tend to be morally dualistic. A Yale lecture on apocalyptic literature states, “They tend to divide humankind into two mutually exclusive groups; the righteous which is always a tiny minority, and the wicked, which is always the vast majority. There’s going to be some final public judgment and the righteous will be saved and the wicked will be destroyed.” (Yale University, n.d.)

Another feature is that they tend to predict catastrophes, suffering, and persecution. “These are signs of the coming of the end, that final point in the march of history that’s being laid out. You have motifs from ancient myths very often used to describe these catastrophes.” (Yale University, n.d.)

A third feature is that they offer a “behind the scenes” look at what is going on in the supernatural realm, the divine realm, hidden to normal vision.

The last feature I will note here is that,

… Apocalyptic literature can be described as a literature of hope and despair. It’s a literature of despair or pessimism because its basic premise is that this world holds out no promise for the righteous. It’s a literature of hope or optimism because it affirms that God will intervene. He will intervene in human history, he’ll set everything right, he’ll interrupt the natural order, he’s going to destroy this broken world as we know it, and he’ll do so in order to rescue the righteous and humiliate the wicked, and if you’ve already died don’t worry there will be a resurrection, it will all be made right. (Yale University, n.d.)

Hearing an Apocalypse

Although the gospel of Mark is not strictly in the apocalyptic genre, scholars identify apocalyptic themes running through all of it, including the passage we read as our text today. The stark dualism between following Jesus and not following him is presented in the image of carrying a cross. Suffering and death are offered as the norm for following Jesus. In Jesus’ rebuke to Peter, we get the idea that something else is going on “behind the scenes” that is diametrically opposed to what is seen in the world. And finally, Jesus predicts the rescue of his followers who remain faithful to him when he returns.

Writing to a powerless, ostracized, and possibly persecuted people, I see Mark telling his audience to resist the temptation to pursue gaining worldly power to try to improve their conditions.

Jesus said, “³⁶ Why would people gain the whole world but lose their lives? ³⁷ What will people give in exchange for their lives? ³⁸ Whoever is ashamed of me and my words in this unfaithful and sinful generation, the Human One will be ashamed of that person when he comes in the Father’s glory with the holy angels.” (Mark 8:36-38 CEB) In my experience, this statement has often been applied to evangelism and witnessing. But looking at the overall context of this passage, I think a more appropriate application is found in rejecting the temptation to seek to harness powers of this world, even if it might seem to be beneficial in spreading the gospel or improving the general conditions of Christian existence in this world. That said, I don’t think there is a problem with working with modern means of governance to improve the lots of all people. But I do think that privileging Christians over others would still prompt a “Get behind me, Satan,” from Jesus.

The final sentence of today’s reading where Jesus says, “I assure you that some standing here won’t die before they see God’s kingdom arrive in power,” (Mark 9:1 CEB) has been interpreted many ways. A common one is that it refers to some of his disciples who experience the Transfiguration, the narrative which immediately follows. But many scholars accept this as an unfulfilled prediction, that perhaps Jesus got it wrong (or Mark’s editing got it wrong), or that it remains for when Jesus returns.

Conclusion – Redefining “Power”

And it is here that we see the word “power” identified with God and God’s kingdom. In isolation it is easy to interpret this as the kind of strength and might associated with rulers and armies of this world. But Jesus’ power was in his suffering, in his humiliation, in his death, and in his love for the world. The power of Jesus is to use his story to persuade listeners to follow and imitate him. History is witness to the reality that Jesus’ persuasive power is stronger than the might of armies. The persuasive power of suffering and sacrificing love changed civilization.

During this season of Lent, let us remember the power of Christ’s love for the world, that we would not just be Christians, but disciples and followers of Jesus, carrying the cross and enduring suffering, humiliation, and even loss so that we too, can become agents of divine persuasive love in the world.[2]

References

Bartlett, D. L., & Taylor, B. B. (2008). Feasting on the Word: Year B, Volume 2 (Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary). Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press.

Jacobsen, D. S. (2014). Fortress Biblical Preaching Commentaries: Mark. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press.

Jarvis, C. A., & Johnson, E. E. (2014). Feasting on the Gospels: Mark (A Feasting on the Word Commentary). Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press.

McLaren, B. (2024, February 22). Life As a Spiritual Journey: Following Jesus is A Journey. Retrieved from Center for Action and Contemplation: https://cac.org/daily-meditations/following-jesus-is-a-journey/

Whitaker, R. J. (2023). Revelation for Normal People: A Guide to the Strangest and Most Dangerous Book in the Bible. Harleysville, PA: The Bible for Normal People.

Yale University. (n.d.). Lecture 23 - Visions of the End: Daniel and Apocalpytic Literature. (Open Yale Courses) Retrieved February 21, 2024, from RLST 145: Introduction to the Old Testament (Hebrew Bible): https://oyc.yale.edu/religious-studies/rlst-145/lecture-23

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[1] Highest peak in ancient Israel, considered a holy mountain by many peoples, and location of many Roman shrines on its slopes.

[2] “The word Christian is more familiar to us today than the word disciple. These days, Christian often seems to apply more to the kinds of people who would push Jesus off a cliff than it does to his true followers. Perhaps the time has come to rediscover the power and challenge of that earlier, more primary word disciple [which] occurs over 250 times in the New Testament, in contrast to the word Christian, which occurs only three times. Maybe those statistics are trying to tell us something.” (McLaren, 2024)

 

Sermon: Letting Go

Lectionary: Lent 1A

Texts: Genesis 2:15-17; 3:1-7; Psalm 32; Romans 5:12-19; Matthew 4:1-11

Forty Days

The gospel reading for today highlights two of the most common features or practices associated with the season of Lent. The first is the duration – forty days. The second is the practice of fasting. There may be an allusion to a possible third feature, the idea of a test or trial, that may be found in the reading that is also associated with Lent.

Jesus, Moses, Israel

In Matthew’s gospel, the temptation account is placed immediately before the Sermon on the Mount. The forty days and nights parallel the time Moses spent on Mount Sinai.[1] A possible related parallel is that Moses spent time in the wilderness of Midian where he encountered God.[2] As I have discussed before, Matthew portrays Jesus as a new Moses, and therefore it is important to show these parallels between Moses and Jesus.

In addition, however, Jesus is also shown to be the beginning of a new, perfect Israel. The first Israel was forced to spend forty years in the wilderness after failing to trust that God would lead them to possess the land promised to them.[3] These forty years was a period of testing.[4] In fact Jesus’ response to the first test comes directly from a passage in Deuteronomy that describes Israel’s forty years of testing:

² Remember the long way that the Lord your God has led you these forty years in the wilderness, in order to humble you, testing you to know what was in your heart, whether or not you would keep his commandments. ³ He humbled you by letting you hunger, then by feeding you with manna, with which neither you nor your ancestors were acquainted, in order to make you understand that one does not live by bread alone but by every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord. (Deuteronomy 8:2-3, NRSVue)

In spite of the great signs and wonders that God had performed to bring the Israelites out of bondage, once faced with the wilderness the ancient Israelites failed to trust God. They failed to trust that God would sustain them.[5] They are recorded as having “tested the Lord” when they accused God of bringing them into the wilderness to kill them with thirst.[6] And they failed to trust in God when Moses was long on Sinai, and they instead turned to crafting a golden calf to lead them.[7]

Jesus Succeeds Where Others Failed

In Matthew 4, Jesus faces the same types of tests. He is first tested on whether or not he will trust God to provide. He is next tested on whether to test God by presuming on a taken-out-of-context scripture that promises God’s protection. Jesus’ third and final test is who and what will lead his life. Where ancient Israel failed these tests, Jesus succeeds and passes the test. In each case, Jesus chooses to trust in what he knows is true about God. Jesus does not use his own power to provide for himself. Jesus does not needlessly test God’s words through reckless actions. And Jesus rejects the temptation of power and control as a means of achieving his ends, and instead trusts in God’s schedule and arrangements.

Through his success in meeting these trials, Jesus shows that he is a fit representative of a new community that will fulfill the promise and mission that was given to Israel.

I need to clarify here that this is not saying that Israel was replaced. The new community is being formed out of Israel and Israel will always be a fundamental part of the community, but its composition will become global and embrace all of humanity. The Apostle Paul struggles with the question of “what happens with Israel?” in his letter to the Romans.[8] We will not get into that question this time, but we will turn to Paul and his letter to the Romans now.

Jesus as the New Adam

Paul takes the parallel with Jesus all the way back to Adam. Whereas the first representative human failed to trust God and brought death to not just humankind, but to all creation, Jesus’ trust in God, even to the cross, brings redemption to all of creation.[9]

Not surprisingly, Jesus’ wilderness trials parallel what Adam and Eve faced in the Garden of Eden. The trials, the tests, the temptations involve:

1)     Sustenance and food and who controls how it is given. Do I accept what is given and any limits, or do I go beyond what is allowed? Do I seize (or miraculously create) what is normally not available, because I can wield power?

2)     Trusting God’s words or instead test them. Do we doubt the fences and guardrails that God has fashioned? Do we seize upon some of God’s words and try to utilize them for our own benefit or to use against others?

3)     “I know better,” “I’ll do it my way,” vs. “I’ll trust God to do it God’s way in God’s time.”

The Lure of Power Offered as Solution to Life

The common theme across all three temptations is power and control. The temptations attempt to appeal to some of the basic anxieties that arise from the precariousness and uncertainties of life on planet Earth. The temptation offer power and control as the solution to life’s uncertainties.

“Will I have enough?” is a question of basic needs and sustenance. But the history of human civilizations and societies, from ancient times to now, show that for many people, the answer to the question is always, “No.” The fear of losing what one already has, however little or much, leads to ever more amassing of wealth. The desire to have more respects no wealth boundaries. From the destitute to the ultra-wealthy, more is a common refrain. The desire to obtain goods through unethical and even illicit means is a temptation for all, but perhaps even more so for those who have the power and the means to get away with it. One need not look too far from modern businesses to see many who have succumbed to this temptation. And what’s more, unless the offense is egregious, society tacitly gives its approval. The end goal, if it could be achieved, is for a person to be able to be completely self-reliant.

“Will I be safe?” is another question about basic needs. We all long for security, predictability, and comfort in this life. But as natural disasters, wars, gun violence, and so much more take place day after day, there is no such thing as a guarantee of safety in this life. For many people there is little they can do to improve the odds of keeping safe. For others, perhaps many of us here, we do have some means to attempt to improve our security. We might upgrade to better locks. Purchase an alarm system and security cameras. Some may choose to arm themselves. We could include in this arena of security the desire to live forever. The end goal of ultimate security is eternal life that is crafted based on my personal preferences.

“Do I have any significance?” is a question of identity, meaning, and purpose. One way to secure a semblance of identity and purpose is to achieve a degree of power. Those who have power are not ignored. They have the means to get things done, and that means others will come knocking on the door and asking for favors. With enough power, a person can do pretty much anything that they want. So the pursuit of power, much like the pursuit of wealth, becomes an endless one. There is never enough power. One can always have a little bit more. The goal of ultimate power is to answer to no one, to craft a world in which everything and everyone caters to my interests.

Avoiding the Lure

Jesus rejects the offer of each of these temptations. He rejects the temptation to provide for himself. He rejects the temptation to use his position and power to demand security and protection of his life. And finally, Jesus rejects the temptation to fashion his identity, meaning, and purpose based on power over the world. Jesus rejects the identity and purpose of a Messiah formed around the world’s expectations of what a Messiah should be.

The desires for adequate sustenance, reasonable security, and for identity, meaning, and purpose are legitimate. After all, in the Lord’s Prayer we pray, “Give us today our daily bread.”[10] Jesus addresses the problem of worrying by saying, “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food and the body more than clothing? … But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.”[11] As for identity and purpose, Jesus tells us that we are salt and light representing God to the world.[12]

Letting Go

What if this Lent we really attempt to trust what Jesus has revealed about God and God’s care for us? What if we give up our desire to control our lives (and that often leads to controlling others as well)? What if we let go of the pursuit of material security and prosperity that the world assures us we need? What if we let go of worrying about our safety and future? What if we let go of trying to conform our identity and purpose to the expectations of the world?

Jesus trusted in God to provide for his provisions and his well-being. Jesus had heard God already declare that he was God’s son, and he held on to that identity.

This Lenten season, let us take time to reflect on how we might be pursuing desires that are not of God, and instead redirect our desires to be in alignment with what God wants for us, our families, our churches, and our communities.

Resist the temptations to cling to empty promises of prosperity, security, and power to fulfill our desires. Instead, let them go and find in Christ all that we need for this life and the life to come.

---

[1] Exodus 24:18.

[2] Exodus 3.

[3] Numbers 14:33, 34.

[4] Deuteronomy 8:2, 3.

[5] Exodus 16.

[6] Exodus 17.

[7] Exodus 32.

[8] Romans 9-11.

[9] Romans 8:19-23.

[10] Matthew 6:11.

[11] Matthew 6:25, 33.

[12] Matthew 5:13-16.

Sermon: Shalom Aleichem

Lectionary Year B, Second Sunday of Easter

Text: John 20:19-31

 

What is peace? What does it mean to have peace?

Today’s gospel reading includes three times where Jesus says, “Peace be with you.” (John 20:19, 21,26) The Hebrew phrase is shalom aleichem and would have been a commonly used greeting. It is at least one of the primary basis to the “passing of the peace” practiced by many Christian churches. Yet the fact that the gospel makes explicit mention of the greeting, not only once but three times, seems to indicate that perhaps there is more to be understood in this ordinary greeting. Perhaps like the bread and wine of the Last Supper, which were common items for a Passover meal and that were given new meaning by Jesus, perhaps “peace be with you” is also imbued with new meaning after the resurrection.

In our common English use, peace primarily means an absence of external conflict. Our culture, in general, values this kind of peace; so much so that resolving conflict is frequently only undertaken in a token manner, or brushed away altogether for the sake of expediency and comfort – most often to accommodate the societal status quo and the systems and structures that benefit from it.

But is this the kind of peace that Jesus gave his disciples? We only need to look back a little earlier in the gospel to read that Jesus’ peace is a different sort of peace. In his words following the Last Supper, Jesus said, “Peace I leave with you. My peace I give you. I give to you not as the world gives. Don’t be troubled or afraid.” (John 14:27)

The peace found in the Roman empire was certainly a kind of absence of conflict, but it was maintained by the threat of force, backed by a capable and willing army. It was a peace maintained through fear. Jesus’ peace is one that does not employ force or fear.

In today’s gospel reading, the disciples are all in some kind of house with the door locked. They are afraid, and for good reason: their master had just been executed by the Romans as a threat to the empire, and by their association to him, they could be on the wanted list also. It is into this room that Jesus miraculously appears. Jesus greets them, and then shows them the scars that he still bears from the crucifixion. It is only then that the disciples find joy.

If we back up one verse from today’s reading, we are informed that Mary Magdalene has told the disciples that she had met the risen Jesus. But this news did not have any effect on the disciples’ fear or faith. Jesus’ initial appearance does not appear to have changed them either. Only when they see the scars on the body of Jesus are their fears replaced by joy. Note too, that in the subsequent Thomas set of texts, he too, hears about Jesus’ appearance to the disciples but hearing about it does not result in belief. Rather, he insists that not only does he need to see the scars, but he needs to touch them: although once Jesus appears and shows Thomas the scars, Thomas is immediately satisfied and believes.

Once the disciples experience a release from their fear, Jesus once more offers his peace and in conjunction, commissions them to be his apostles. He sends them out to do the same works that the Father sent Jesus into the world to do. It is work that generated opposition to it by the political and religious powers of that time. It is work that eventually led to Jesus’ execution. This is the work that Jesus is sending out his disciples to do. It is the work that every generation of Christian is still called by Jesus to do.

Jesus opposed the status quo. Jesus advocated for the underclass, the oppressed, the marginalized. Jesus called out abuses of power. He made a point of inclusion and egalitarianism in his society. Jesus taught and lived out a reversal of traditional notions of power. This got him killed. These practices are what the church is called to continue.

I think we are all too aware that we live in troubled times. We might not live in a war zone, but there is unease, tension, and more and more, open conflict and violence between individuals and societal groups. We may be living in a relatively peaceful time, as peace is often understood. But intuitively we probably know that we are not really living in a peaceful time.

Is the church currently living behind closed doors, in fear, as the disciples were on the very day of Jesus’ resurrection? Are we afraid of what the repercussions might be if we were to genuinely confront and challenge the status quo of the world, its systems, structures, and powers? Have we forgotten what Mary, the mother of Jesus proclaimed in the Magnificat, a portion that reads:

He has shown strength with his arm.

He has scattered those with arrogant thoughts and proud inclinations.

He has pulled the powerful down from their thrones and lifted up the lowly.

He has filled the hungry with good things and sent the rich away empty-handed.

(Luke 1:51-53) 

Or what Jesus himself read from Isaiah and applied to himself at the beginning of his public ministry? 

The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,

Because the Lord has anointed me.

He has sent me to preach good news to the poor,

To proclaim release to the prisoners

And recovery of the sight to the blind,

To liberate the oppressed,

And to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.

(Luke4:18-19) 

The church was not commissioned to maintain her edifices. The church was never given permission to be part of the empire. The church was not blessed to maintain her own comforts.

Simply proclaiming what we believe is not enough: Mary told the disciples about her experience, but it did not change them. The disciples told Thomas about their encounter with Jesus, but it did not change him.

Simply being present in the world as a community of faith is not enough: Jesus appeared to the disciples and Thomas, but his mere presence did not change them.

What the world needs to witness is a wounded and scarred Christ: only when Jesus reveals the symbols of having battled and emerging victorious do the disciples and Thomas believe.

The Apostle Paul describes the church as the body of Christ in this world (1 Corinthians 12:12-31). Are we as a community of faith, trusting in the peace of Jesus, willing to do the works that Jesus did, to risk being wounded by the world?

What the world needs is not more preaching, more theology, or more churches. What the world needs is more communities that are vulnerable and willing to advocate for and lift the oppressed, the marginalized and the outcasts, and to alleviate the pain and distress of the suffering, to not just minister to these but to include them as full members of our community. Furthermore, the world needs communities to confront the injustices and the abuses that are inflicted by the powerful, and to oppose the systems and structures that permit and perpetuate said abuse.

The power of Jesus’ resurrection is found in his scars. They are the signs that he gave all to accomplish his mission and came out victorious. This is perhaps another reversal to ponder: victory and power is found in Jesus’ wounding. Perhaps it is a lesson that we need to consider more thoughtfully: where are our communities’ wounds and scars that we received as we fought and continue to fight for the dignity and worth of fellow humanity?

The peace given to the church by Jesus is the settled confidence and courage to confront oppression, to correct injustice, and to comfort all who are victims of the caustic priorities of this world. Shalom aleichem! May the peace of Jesus Christ be with us all.

Sermon: The Fox and the Hen

Sermon: The Fox and the Hen
Lectionary: Year C, Lent 2
Text: Luke 13:31-35

“No good deed goes unpunished.”

If we were to summarize Jesus’ life in one sentence, that might be a strong candidate for consideration.

We might also say that Jesus was rather familiar with being misunderstood, with being falsely accused of acting improperly and out of wrong motivations, and even of being aligned with the devil.

When, after forty days in the wilderness, Jesus was tempted to take an easy way at the beginning of his public ministry, Jesus remains committed to his path and work. And later, as in today’s reading, he is warned to flee to save himself, Jesus still remains committed to his path and work.

Scholars have noted that the Luke’s gospel is headed toward Jerusalem from the very beginning. Jerusalem is the center of Jewish religion and devotion.  The journey is made explicit in chapter 9, verse 51 and the rest of the gospel is told within a framework of Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem. Jerusalem is where Jesus was presented to God after his birth. Jerusalem is where Jesus went when he was twelve years old and found himself among the teachers in the temple. Jerusalem was the home of Jesus’ divine Father. But it would also be Jerusalem that would be responsible for killing Jesus.

It seems that those more politically connected understood where Jesus’ path would lead, if he chose to keep on it. Some Pharisees come to warn Jesus that he is rubbing the powers-to-be the wrong way. Those who hold power, and especially those who hold it tenuously, are threatened by what they perceive to be competitions and destabilizing forces. Herod Antipas, a son of Herod the Great, was a tetrarch (ruler of a quarter part) of Galilee and Perea. He was only there because only because the Romans allowed it. If they thought he was ineffective or worse, he could easily be replaced. Jesus, with his gospel of liberty and deeds of freeing people from oppression and disease, could easily become a destabilizing entity.

Whatever these Pharisees’ ultimate motivation was, they were correct that Herod was a legitimate threat to Jesus’ safety. The prudent thing would have been for Jesus to tone things down, accommodate the establishment, and perhaps move out of the area for a while, at least until Herod cooled down. After all, didn’t that work for Jesus and his parents when he was an infant, when they fled to Egypt from Herod the Great?

In the Bible, when individuals are faced with threats, sometimes the right decision is to flee. At other times, the correct decision is to stay the course. There is no single correct response. That’s where wisdom, through the Holy Sprit, enters and we are to use the brains God has given to evaluate the situation and come to what we believe is the best response.

In the case of Jesus, in today’s text, he stays the course. Jesus understands the risks.The costs of turning away are greater than costs that would be paid by his own safety and life. He also knows that leaving the region of Galilee will not change his ultimate destiny in Jerusalem. He also seems to understand and know that his life will not end until all the established powers – political, religious, Roman, and Jewish – feel threatened by him and come together to decide his fate. And that can only happen in Jerusalem.

Jesus sends his reply back to Herod, essentially telling him that as destructive (“fox”) as he is, he wields far less power than he thinks he has. Jesus will continue to exercise his power of freeing people from captivity to oppressive powers and physical ailments until he reaches Jerusalem. Jesus may also be indirectly telling Herod that he really should not be worrying about Jesus, because the nature of Jesus’ power is far different from the kind of power with which Herod is familiar. Yet the irony is that Jesus’ power, although not directly threatening worldly power, does undermine and eventually destroy it. For the power of inclusiveness, egalitarianism, and unconditional love ultimately destroys any kind of hierarchy and privilege that are the foundations of worldly power.

It’s about this point in the sermon where I’m supposed to begin talking about how and why all this is relevant to us today. But to be honest, I found it to be difficult to find a point in which to bring it into our context. After all, none of us are Jesus, and prophets are a rare occurrence. I doubt any of us are facing direct threat to life and safety from powerful people. I don’t think any of us are on such a defined and time-limited mission like Jesus was.

But maybe we are like the Pharisees in today’s text. When we encounter someone aggressively pushing against accepted power systems and structures, and forcefully calling for reform and justice, what is our response? We acknowledge to ourselves that their position is right, but also feel that their methods make us uncomfortable. And so, especially if they are close to us, like family or close friends, we advise toning down the rhetoric, perhaps suggest utilizing more traditionally acceptable actions for change, and so on. This wouldn’t be unprecedented: Jesus’ own family thought he had gone crazy and tried to have an intervention to try to get him to act more “normal.”

Maybe we need to ask ourselves why we (I) have such a difficult time with those who believe passionately about something and act accordingly. Is it because they challenge my complacency, or challenge the benefits I receive from being more accommodating and acceptable to societal norms? Am I afraid of what the disruption might result and being caught in any potential backlash?

Maybe we think that because things have always worked that way, whatever “that way” might be, that to try to change it is fruitless, or at least something that can only happen gradually. Maybe in our acquiescence of “how things are” we’ve lost the urgency that real people are suffering from oppression and injustice.

In a different gospel story, when Peter tried to dissuade Jesus from following the path set before him, Jesus rebuked Peter as an adversary. Peter had a vision of where Jesus and his movement would go, but when Jesus told him otherwise, Peter didn’t like it. Maybe we are like Peter more than we’d like — we want to advise a “safer” course when we encounter those who are passionately following the call to bring deliverance and healing to the world.

Could it be that in our desire to live quiet, peaceful lives, we’ve inadvertently become stumbling blocks to needed change? Have we advised caution when instead we should have been encouraging someone to follow their passion for helping people, however dangerous the path might have seemed?

But what if we are that person that is called? And really, in one way or another, aren’t we all? When we choose to take the Christian name and join the community of Christ, aren’t we agreeing to journey with Christ, wherever that may lead?

What kept Jesus on track and not dissuaded from the path he was on? Jesus understood who he was, what his task was, and what genuine power was.

Luke’s gospel is the only one that narrates Jesus’ Jerusalem visit at twelve years, but even at that point, Jesus was on his way to understanding his identity. He already knew his relationship to God. By the time he began his public ministry, even the devil could not sway Jesus from the path he had chosen.

Luke’s gospel also uses words in describing Jesus, in which they describe his developing and maturing understanding of his purpose. In today’s text, when Jesus says that “on the third day I finish my work,” the word “finish” indicates bringing to full maturity and completion. What this tells me is that Jesus’ understanding about where his mission would lead and how his life would end was not necessarily fully known to him from the beginning, but that it developed throughout his life. So when some Pharisees came to warn him, I believe it was a genuine temptation for Jesus to take a different path.

But Jesus also understood what his task was. Jesus came to reveal the truth about God, and that was through his work of bringing deliverance to the captives of the multitudes of demons of life and healing to the sick. Jesus’ relationship with God secured his identity and informed his knowledge about God.

Jesus understood that God’s power is not a power-over, that is power that coerces and controls, but rather, a power-with. Power-with is power that raises all to an equal footing; power that protects, just as a mother hen tries to protect her chicks from a marauding fox; power that will sacrifice itself so that others will have the opportunity to experience liberty and healing.

For Jesus to turn aside and follow a different path, a path of self-preservation, would have been to admit that God’s power was insufficient to heal the ills of this world and save it. It would have been acknowledgment that Caesar and Herod did, in fact, hold the reigns of true power. But just as Jesus did in the wilderness temptations  at the beginning of his public ministry, Jesus stood fast against the renewed temptation to follow a different path.

As we journey through the season of Lent, I suggest we reflect on a few things.

First, have we succumbed to the temptation to play it too safe when it comes to following Christ? Second, have we been stumbling blocks in the path of others trying to follow Christ by advising a “safer” course of action? Perhaps the sacrifice of Lent for some this season is to “give up” the default of choosing the path of apparent safety.

Third, do you know who you are in relation to God? What is your confidence in God? Fourth, do you know what your role is in God’s desire to reveal God’s nature to the world and bring all under God’s wings of protection? Fifth, and final point to reflect upon: are you clear on the nature of the types of power that exist and which one comes from God? Perhaps a spiritual discipline to take up this Lenten season is to reacquaint ourselves with the life of Jesus and relearn how he related to God and to the powers of this world – perhaps by reading through one of the gospel accounts.

Let us be willing to allow God to bring us under God’s wings. Let us be willing to allow God to reprioritize our lives and journeys. May we be among those who gladly say, when Christ returns, “Blessed is the one who ones in the name of the Lord.”