Today marks the end of our Lenten journey. Some of us have fasted from a particular food item or behavior. Some of us have spent extra time reading scripture, or other texts designed to enhance our understanding of our faith and our faith journey. Some of us have simply lived our lives in expectation of Easter.
Holy Week begins today, and ends with our Easter celebration next week. Each week, in worship, after our prayer of confession and words of assurance, we have extinguished one candle, to represent the ultimate betrayal of our Lord and Savior at the hands of his closest friends and followers. Each week, our altar space has gotten a little bit darker, to represent our own role in the Christ’s betrayal. A mini tenebrae, in the midst of our Sunday worship. For close to 2000 years, Christians have followed the path of this journey, using Lent to fast in order to focus on Christ’s suffering, or to read in order to be reminded of Christ’s last weeks of ministry, or to perform acts of kindness and charity to honor Christ’s sacrifice. And while there is a general understanding that following that path is a good thing, tradition and custom tells us so, there is nothing explicitly biblical that tells us what we should do during Lent. It’s the early church’s interpretation of scripture that leads us through our days in Lent. Scripture tells us that Jesus began his final journey into Jerusalem riding on a donkey, and on a colt, the foal of a donkey. Two animals at once? That’s interesting. All four gospels describe the triumphal entrance into Jerusalem by our Lord and Savior, and all four note that the disciples laid their cloaks on the donkey and colt, and the crowd laid their cloaks on the ground, with some branches from the trees. But palms are never mentioned. That’s interesting. Custom and culture from those days dictated that a king riding on a horse was riding for battle. A king riding on a donkey was riding in peace. That’s interesting. 2000 years after his entrance into Jerusalem, after his arrest, his torture, after his crucifixion and death, after his resurrection, Jesus continues to remain a most mysterious figure. A charismatic rabbi, able to perform miracles like turning water into wine, healing people with all kinds of diseases, able to raise his friend Lazarus from the dead, all used to illustrate the glory of God. It feels like the world is losing patience with the mystery of Christ. As scholars and scientists argue about what would have been historically accurate, what would have been ‘true’ about the time Jesus lived among us, it feels like people care less and less about the mystery, the paradox of our Lord and Savior. Does it feel that way to you? So much about Jesus is incredible: born of a virgin, able to perform miracles, crucified and killed, only to be resurrected…no science can help us understand the implications of these mysteries. Ultimately, we have to wrestle with them ourselves. We believe or we don’t. But what I believe is that we can never separate the mystery from the person Jesus was, and so there are moments in our faith lives when we must decide whether we believe in Jesus because of what scripture said he did, or because of who he is in our lives. And if we believe in Jesus because of who he is in our lives, then this next week plays a powerful role in our remembrance of his final days on earth. If we believe in him because of what scripture says about him, then we can go through this week with a kind of painless detachment, removed from his painful betrayal, his humiliation, his torture, his sacrifice. We can read about his passion, his trials like a story that has no effect on us. But if we’re on this journey with him, then we’ll feel some of that pain, our cheeks will sting with some of the humiliation he felt. We’ll wash other’s feet, and have our feet washed. We’ll break bread together, and share juice together, like he did, in remembrance of him. Mysterious acts like these can have a profound effect upon our faith lives. The world wants science to tell us if Jesus really did the things the bible tells us he did. Science can’t do that. The world wants historians to tell us if Jesus was really the way the bible tells us Jesus was. History can’t do that. At some point, the faithful have to move beyond science and history, and move into the mystery of our faith. We have to be ok with not knowing for sure, but knowing in our hearts. And there’s a difference, isn’t there? I can’t help but mourn the state of the Christian Church in these modern times, and I can’t help but note that the Christian Church’s problems seem to stem from our inability to put into practice the very things Jesus calls us do. If we practiced loving each other as he loves us, as we love ourselves, if we loved our enemies, if we turned the other cheek, if we loved God with all our hearts, and all our minds and all our souls, the world wouldn’t doubt the truth. But for now, with the advent of Holy Week upon us, we have mystery, and we have hope. We do not have science, or history, or culture, or customs to feed us, we have our own personal faith to lead us into our understanding of the Christ’s ultimate sacrifice for our sins. We can shout Hosanna! today because we already know the rest of the story: we won’t be disappointed when the Messiah turns out to be a peace-loving, peace-preaching peacenik. We can sit at the table with Jesus, and break bread, because we know what he did for us and for our sins, and we know that all are welcome at his table, with no exceptions. We can take risks in the name of our faith, move outside our comfort zone, share our resources beyond what might be prudent, because we have the reassurance and the joy and mystery of Easter morning to back us up. At the end of the day, we have to find a way to be comfortable with the mysteries of our Lord and Savior, be comfortable with the things that don’t make sense, the things that get at the heart of our faith. Not because tradition tells us to, or because it’s the custom of Christians to do so. But because we are learning to embrace the mystery of Christ. At the end of the day, either we have hope in the resurrected Christ, or we do not. Holy Week helps us focus on the paradox of a king, arrested, tortured, humiliated, and crucified, only to triumph over all earthly bounds, and even death itself, in order that you and I might be forgiven. And we are forgiven. And that is the ultimate mystery. Hosanna in the highest indeed. Thanks be to God. Amen.
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The contrast between our Hebrew Scripture and our Gospel Lesson couldn’t be more stark: Abram’s response to God’s call was to immediately obey. And, we know from other stories, that Abram, or Abraham, obeyed God’s call time and time again throughout his long life. He was ready to sacrifice his son for God, if that’s what it was going to take to be obedient.
Nicodemus, on the other hand, has a few questions! Nicodemus is a Pharisee, a church leader, and, he was taking a great risk going to Jesus to ask questions. It would not have been good for him to be seen with Jesus, but something compelled him to go and speak with him. Other stories about Nicodemus have him defending Jesus after he is arrested, pointing out that Jesus should have a fair trial, and finally, Nicodemus shows up after Jesus has died to help with his burial. Both faith responses, absolute obedience, and healthy skepticism are represented many times in the bible, and in real life. At one time or another, we’ve all received a call from God. We may not have heard it, it may have been a still, small voice, or it may have been a booming commandment. But as God’s children, God calls us to live faithful lives, to love our neighbors, even love our enemies. Looking inside ourselves for a moment, how have we responded to God’s call? More like Abraham, or more like Nicodemus? I’d hazard a guess that the majority of us are more like Nicodemus! Drawn to God and to Jesus, but needing some logical answers before we commit. I believe very strongly that while there is an obvious difference between Abraham and Nicodemus in their responses, both are acceptable to God. Of course, God would appreciate all of us acting as quickly and as faithfully as Abraham, but I also believe that God patiently tolerates our questions. God is a big enough God to handle any question we could come up with! Jesus wasn’t afraid of Nicodemus and his questions, he wasn’t even annoyed. Given enough time, the Nicodemus in all of us will come to the conclusion that obedience to God and God’s son is the way to go. Nicodemus had heard enough from Jesus to take a public stand after Jesus was arrested, and he was strong enough in his faith to publicly assist with our Savior’s burial. Given that Lent is a journey, the challenge I have for you today is this: I’d like us to reflect on whether we are more like Abraham, or more like Nicodemus in our responses to God’s call. Over the course of our lives, have we responded with obedience, or with questions? If you have examples of how you are like Abraham, what did you do in obedience to God’s call? If more like Nicodemus, what questions did you need to have answered before you were willing to act? In my own life, having felt a call to ministry even as I was in high school, and at first I responded more like Jonah! I went in the other direction! I felt very strongly that my ministry was serving the developmentally or intellectually disabled, and so I set my course on learning psychology, on getting jobs serving people with disabilities. But God’s call was persistent. And there came a time when I couldn’t hide from it any more. The call to go to seminary was strong. Do you think I simply packed everything up and showed up on the front steps of Colgate Rochester Divinity School? Nope! I asked questions! A lot of questions! Betsy and I attended a conference for potential seminarians, where we could ask students and professors and administrators all the questions we wanted, to our hearts content. Of course, everybody there was prepared to answer questions about how I could go to seminary. Nobody there was prepared to answer questions about if I should go to seminary! I was expected to find that answer on my own. That was a question better addressed to God. The God that expects obedience, but patiently tolerates pesky questions! While the bible tells of people like Abraham, those who hear God’s call clearly and immediately obey, most of us will hedge toward Nicodemus in our responses. As modern children of God, we have more information, more knowledge about the sacred, and about life in general, than people like Abraham ever did. But some will argue that in the end, the only thing that matters is whether we faithfully obey. The path we take is less important than our ultimate response. The faith world needs Abrahams, Naomis, Esthers, Jonah’s, Isaiahs, Elijahs. All with their own way of answering God’s call. And the faith world needs us, reflecting on how God is calling us to act today, and tomorrow. It doesn’t matter if we are 4, or 94, the God that is Still Speaking speaks to us, calls to us, beckons us. And I want to reassure you that it’s OK to ask questions! It’s not considered unfaithful, disrespectful, or impertinent. Of course, like Nicodemus, we may not get the answers we are hoping for, we may not understand the answers, it may not help us make decisions about our obedience, but it’s OK to ask questions! In the Spiritual Direction leadership program I’m in, we’re learning to ask questions about the possible fruits of an action: ‘what would happen if I did this’, or, ‘what benefits will occur if I do that’. ‘What would God want me to do, and what are the possible fruits of that action?’ ‘Who gains from my actions, me, or someone else?’ Human-kind has spent the last 2 millennia developing its intellect, its logic, its collective understanding of the universe. And the more complex the thinking about the universe, the harder it is to respond to God like Abraham. But if we’re going to ask questions like Nicodemus, at the very least we might want to ask the right questions! I take it on faith that God calls to each of us, in some unique and special way. Do we hear it? Every once in a while, we might hear something, maybe a faint whisper. But our faith tells us that the call is there, whether we hear it or not. The first step is to start listening. Nobody can say, I’m too old, or I’m too young, or I’m a lost cause….God reaches out to all of us, calls to all of us, loves all of us… And God aches for our responses. Imagine a world where God’s faithful children put extra effort into listening for what God is saying: we can make that world happen simply by listening for God in our own lives. And the beauty is that we can ask all the questions we want! The story of Jesus needed an Abraham at the beginning and the story of Jesus needed a Nicodemus at the end. The key to hearing God’s call, and being able to respond faithfully is no surprise: it’s prayer. It’s being in prayer, not just on Sunday mornings when we gather to worship our God, but being in prayer in the morning, or during the day, or in the evening, or whenever we have a quick moment. And prayer often takes the form of a question, doesn’t it? Asking God questions is really just praying! Who knew? Asking the questions we need to ask is really just prayer. And the more we ask, the more we pray. And the more we ask, the better the likelihood that we will hear an answer. An answer from the patient God who aches to be in contact with us! I don’t believe God interacts with us like God did with Abraham: very few of us will ever be asked to do the things God asked Abraham to do. But many of us will find ourselves asking questions like Nicodemus did. Many of us will feel like we need to be private, discreet about our questions. We may feel insecure, or unfaithful. Let’s not worry about that. Because if we’re asking questions, it means we’re engaging our faith, engaging our God. And that is a good thing! We can learn a lot from the persistence and temerity Nicodemus showed. And while we can’t know the details of what he learned from his questions, his behavior tells us that he was convinced enough to act faithfully, in public, at great risk for his safety and his standing in the community. He asked the questions, he engaged the sacred, and he acted. I pray we can do the same. Amen. |
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