Famous Last Words John 18:1-19:42 | 4/19/2019 An audio recording of this sermon can be found here. In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. This Holy Week, we remember the famous last words of the condemned man, Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews. His ultimate utterances are profound. They are entirely consistent with the society-shaking, history-changing, God-revealing course of his entire ministry. In fact, his last words are the crowning moment of his life. They are not cries of desperation but declarations of victory. “Woman, here is your son,” says Jesus to his mother. “Here is your mother,” he says to a disciple standing beside her (John 19:26-27) (v. 28) It is finished,” he proclaims (v. 30).These are his last words, his famous last words. But for many people, their meaning is unclear. And how can it be said that they are profound, triumphant and entirely consistent with the course of his ministry? Also puzzling.Jesus said, “It is finished.” What did he mean?To understand Christ’s parting thoughts, we have to begin with his triumphal entry into Jerusalem, and look at how Palm Sunday leads straight to Good Friday. Jesus doesn’t begin the week as a rock star and end it as a falling star. Instead, he starts the week in glory, and ends it in even greater glory ... in the shocking, surprising and scandalous glory of the cross.On what we now call Palm Sunday, Jesus enters Jerusalem, and the great crowd gathered for the Passover festival takes branches of palm trees and meets him, shouting, “Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord — the King of Israel!” And Jesus finds a young donkey and sits on it, fulfilling the prophecy, “Look, your king is coming, sitting on a donkey’s colt!” (12:12-15).So far, so good. Jesus comes to town as the king of Israel. The crowd grasps this and they praise him, praying that he will become their national savior and restore God’s kingdom in their country. They see that Jesus is a triumphant king — something that even the disciples are still struggling to grasp — but of course none of the onlookers has any idea just what kind of king Jesus has come to be.Fast-forward to the end of the week. Here is where most Christians assume that the story takes a turn for the worse: Jesus is betrayed by Judas and arrested in the garden, put on trial and mocked, and then crucified and killed. But the gospel of John refuses to portray Jesus as a passive, silent victim, at the mercy of evil forces beyond his control. Rather, John makes it clear that it is the premeditated — if not painful — plan of Jesus, not the scheme of others, that leads decisively to his death.This is shocking stuff. It means that the crucifixion has a profoundly positive meaning, and that Jesus’ famous last words are words of triumph — not defeat. Biblical scholar Dorothy Jean Weaver points out that Jesus is anything but powerless during his passion, and engages in vigorous verbal exchanges — sharp commands, feisty challenges, penetrating questions, deep observations and poignant words of comfort — from the moment of his arrest to the final moments in which he hangs on a Roman cross. He orders Peter to put his sword back in its sheath, challenges the brutality of the high priest’s slave and engages Pontius Pilate in extensive philosophical discourse. On the cross, he offers words of comfort to his mother, and links her to his beloved disciple. Jesus is in control, even from the cross. When he says, in the first of his famous last words, “Woman, here is your son” ... “Disciple, here is your mother,” he is creating a new family of God, one that exists even in times of suffering and death. This is truly good news for us, for we are all part of this new family created by the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus Christ.Then Jesus cries, “I am thirsty.” This is, for us, a reminder that Jesus entered fully and completely into human life, thirsting and hungering and suffering as each of us does. He certainly felt pain as he went to his death on the cross, and no talk of the positive meaning of Good Friday can eliminate this excruciating reality. But the fresh message for us in this famous last word is that Jesus is with us in all of our earthly agony. Nothing in all creation — neither death, nor life, nor things present, nor things to come, nor anything else we might face — will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord (Romans 8:38-39). Jesus is able to sympathize with our weaknesses, because he has been tested as we are; since he has walked in our shoes, he knows what we are going through, and can walk beside us on the road to his Father’s house. This last word of Jesus matches the mission of his life, and there’s certainly something comforting about this kind of consistency.Finally, Jesus says, “It is finished” — probably the most widely misunderstood of his famous last words. This expression is not a whimper of defeat or despair, but a shout of confidence in his completion of God’s mission in the world These words are the cultural equivalent of an emphatic, “Yes!!” — picture him coming off the cross, flexing the knees, bringing his arm around in an arc, pumping the air, throwing his head to the sky and shouting “Yes!!!” He stayed on the cross. He didn’t say “Yes!!” He said, “It is finished!” It is “completed.” He did what he set out to do. We have to remember that he knew what his mission was all about. A few months before his death, Jesus announced, “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep” It is finished! Much earlier, he said to Nicodemus, “And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life” (3:14).It is finished! And on Palm Sunday, Jesus predicted “when I am lifted up from the earth, [I] will draw all people to myself” (12:32).It is finished! With his famous last words on the cross, Jesus completes the mission that God has given him to perform in the world. According to John, his death is not a terrible tragedy, nor is it an awful mistake; instead, it is an act of ultimate self-sacrifice, one which Jesus performs for the benefit of his followers and all the people of the world. When Jesus is lifted up on the cross, we are able to see, more clearly than ever before, the suffering, self-sacrificing love of God. AMEN Easter Day The Rev’d Charles Everson St. Mary’s Episcopal Church April 21, 2019 The audio recording of this sermon can be found here. Like many of you, I spend far too much of my life on my phone. I’m part of a group text message string that includes about 10 of my friends, most of whom are not religious. Beyond scheduling happy hours and birthday celebrations, we generally use this medium for snarky memes or silly jokes to make each other laugh. A couple of years ago, my phone buzzed on Easter Sunday, and when I looked down, it said, “Happy Zombie Jesus Day!” One of the other persons on the text string texted me separately, concerned that I might be offended. Of course, the friend who sent the silly message knew I wouldn’t be offended, not because I believe Jesus is a Zombie, but because he and I have had long talks about what Christians believe about Jesus’s resurrection from the dead, and that ultimately, he can’t bring himself to believe that a human being could rise from the dead. I mean, I get it. Generally, people don’t rise from the dead. But here we are. It’s Easter Sunday, and we’re here celebrating the Feast of the Resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, like we do every year. And like every other Easter Sunday, we hear about Jesus’s resurrection from several different Scripture lessons, from different authors with different perspectives. From John’s gospel, we hear of Mary Magdelene’s utter despair upon finding the empty tomb. “What happened? Did someone steal my Lord’s body,” she may have asked herself. Her despair is turned to joy upon seeing her risen Lord. She initially thought he was the gardener, meaning she recognized him as a living, breathing human being with a real body that can be touched. In the epistle lesson, Paul connects Christ’s resurrection theologically with Adam, the first human being. He says, “But in fact Christ has been raised form the dead, the first fruits of those who have died. For since death came through a human being, the resurrection of the dead has also come through a human being; for as all die in Adam, so all will be made alive in Christ.” And in the reading from Acts, we hear the apostle Peter, the disciple whom Jesus loved, testify to what he saw. He said, “God raised him on the third day and allowed him to appear, not to all the people but to us who were chosen by God as witnesses, and who ate and drank with him after he rose from the dead.” It’s no accident that Peter emphasizes the fact that he’s giving an eyewitness account, and it’s also no accident that he points out that Jesus ate and drank with his disciples after he rose from the dead. Neither spirits nor zombies eat and drink. Peter was emphasizing the historicity and the physicality of Jesus’ resurrected body. Often, we tell ourselves that we no longer believe in such legends because we know better, because everything we have learned about the world has taught is that such stories cannot be true, and because we are educated and sophisticated people who will not be manipulated by tales that the church uses to get us to do as we are told. Often, we no longer buy into such foolishness. But it might also be true that we no longer pay attention to such things because we have stopped believing that the resurrection of Jesus at Easter has much impact on our lives. We have lost track of the meaning of the Resurrection. And this means that we have also given up on the idea that God could protect and save his people; that he is leading us to salvation; and that He who rose from the dead is our hope that tomorrow will be different from all our yesterdays.[1] Peter’s proclaims the meaning of Jesus’ resurrection simply yet powerfully: God anointed Jesus with the Holy Spirit when he was baptized by John the Baptist. He went about doing good and healing all who were oppressed. He was put to death on that awful tree, but God raised him on the third day. Everyone who believes in him is forgiven of sin. But before Peter says all of this, he realizes something new about the God he’d been serving: God does not show partiality or favor. Rather, God offers salvation and healing to all people. In Peter’s understanding, Jesus’s message had only been for the Jews. But now he’s realized that God loves everyone - even those who aren’t Jewish – unconditionally and extravagantly. For Peter, this was more than just a nice theological idea that made him feel good. God’s impartiality forced him to actively change how he lived his life. He sought out the Gentiles, even though it was unlawful for a Jew to associate with or visit a Gentile. He actively sought peace with them. And that is the focus of Peter’s message: “the good news of peace through Jesus Christ.”[2] This peace that Jesus brings to humanity is an active, reconciling kind of peace. Through his death on the cross, Jesus restored peace between God and humanity. And this peace between God and mankind makes possible peace between human beings. Oh, how our world today needs this peace! The polarization of our society seems to grow and grow. Republican vs. Democrat, Protestant vs. Catholic, rich vs. poor, white vs. black, and so on. I have a friend who has not spoken to his parents since the last presidential election, for he and they cannot stand to be in the same room as one another. Friends, Jesus’s resurrection from the dead has the power to bring peace between divided peoples. His unconditional love is not only for you, but for you and you and you, and even me. His love is so great that it cannot be contained by political or religious or socio-economic boundaries. Whatever group of people you dislike the most…God loves them just as much as he loves you. On Easter Day, we are reminded of the historicity of Jesus’s physical resurrection from the dead. He wasn’t an undead, reanimated corpse – he wasn’t a zombie – his actual body was raised from the dead. As we will sing after communion, “Had Christ, that once was slain, never burst his three-day prison, our faith had been in vain.”[3] Let us rejoice, friends, for our faith is not in vain. For Christ is risen, making peace between God and humanity, and extending love and forgiveness to anyone who will receive it. Anyone, for God shows no partiality or favor. No matter how unworthy you may feel, no matter the awful things you’ve done in your life, no matter, God loves you. Let us be renewed and refreshed this morning with the joy of the Resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead. Let us leave this place believing that He who rose from the dead is our hope that tomorrow will be different from all our yesterdays. For by his glorious resurrection from the dead, Jesus Christ ushered in the peace that passes all understanding. Peace for our souls, peace among divided peoples, and peace for the world. Amen. [1] Adapted from a sermon preached by Fr. Sean Mullin, rector of St. Mark’s, Philadelphia. http://www.saintmarksphiladelphia.org/sermons/2019/4/19/the-sparrow-the-crown-amp-the-thorns [2] Acts 10:36, NIV. [3] Hymn 192, Hymnal 1982, “This Joyful Eastertide.” The Easter sermon of John Chrysostom (circa 400 AD)
An audio recording can be found here. Are there any who are devout lovers of God? Let them enjoy this beautiful bright festival! Are there any who are grateful servants? Let them rejoice and enter into the joy of their Lord! Are there any weary with fasting? Let them now receive their wages! If any have toiled from the first hour, let them receive their due reward; If any have come after the third hour, let him with gratitude join in the Feast! And he that arrived after the sixth hour, let him not doubt; for he too shall sustain no loss. And if any delayed until the ninth hour, let him not hesitate; but let him come too. And he who arrived only at the eleventh hour, let him not be afraid by reason of his delay. For the Lord is gracious and receives the last even as the first. He gives rest to him that comes at the eleventh hour, as well as to him that toiled from the first. To this one He gives, and upon another He bestows. He accepts the works as He greets the endeavor. The deed He honors and the intention He commends. Let us all enter into the joy of the Lord! First and last alike receive your reward; rich and poor, rejoice together! Sober and slothful, celebrate the day! You that have kept the fast, and you that have not, rejoice today for the Table is richly laden! Feast royally on it, the calf is a fatted one. Let no one go away hungry. Partake, all, of the cup of faith. Enjoy all the riches of His goodness! Let no one grieve at his poverty, for the universal kingdom has been revealed. Let no one mourn that he has fallen again and again; for forgiveness has risen from the grave. Let no one fear death, for the Death of our Savior has set us free. He has destroyed it by enduring it. He destroyed Hell when He descended into it. He put it into an uproar even as it tasted of His flesh. Isaiah foretold this when he said, "You, O Hell, have been troubled by encountering Him below." Hell was in an uproar because it was done away with. It was in an uproar because it is mocked. It was in an uproar, for it is destroyed. It is in an uproar, for it is annihilated. It is in an uproar, for it is now made captive. Hell took a body, and discovered God. It took earth, and encountered Heaven. It took what it saw, and was overcome by what it did not see. O death, where is thy sting? O Hell, where is thy victory? Christ is Risen, and you, o death, are annihilated! Christ is Risen, and the evil ones are cast down! Christ is Risen, and the angels rejoice! Christ is Risen, and life is liberated! Christ is Risen, and the tomb is emptied of its dead; for Christ having risen from the dead, is become the first-fruits of those who have fallen asleep. To Him be Glory and Power forever and ever. Amen! Maundy Thursday Luke 22:7-30 The Rev’d Charles Everson St. Mary’s Episcopal Church April 18, 2019 The audio recording of this sermon can be found here. Tonight, the mystery begins. Tonight, we begin a three-day-long liturgy the Church calls the Paschal Triduum filled with a stark contrast between deep sorrow and unfathomable joy. As we begin this intense time, from the book of Exodus, we heard Nancy read to us what is essentially a liturgical customary for the preparation of the Jewish Passover meal. Around 1,300 years before Christ, the Jews were slaves in Egypt. God raised up Moses as their leader, and the Passover marked the beginning of Israel’s exodus out of Egypt and into the Promised Land. God commanded each Israelite household to slaughter a spotless Lamb. The instructions are quite detailed, just as any good liturgical customary is. “Do not eat any of it raw or boiled in water, but roasted over the fire, with its head, legs, and inner organs.” It reminds me of the some of the fussy liturgical customaries we use around here, such as “The organ is silent and the bells do not ring from the end of the Gloria on Maundy Thursday until the Gloria at the Great Easter Vigil.” (This is why you’ll hear us use a wooden clacker instead of the bells later in the service.). At the Passover, the head of the household was to smear some of the blood of the lamb on their doorposts as a signal to God that he should “pass over” their houses when he destroyed the firstborn of the Egyptians, thus paving the way for their escape back to Israel. The passage ends with, “This day shall be a day of remembrance for you. You shall celebrate it as a festival to the Lord; throughout your generations you shall observe it as a perpetual ordinance.”[1] Thirteen hundred years later, as good Jews, our Lord and his disciples kept the feast in their time. Jesus tells his disciples that he “eagerly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer,” and his disciples would have immediately recognized a play on words: the Greek word Passover (pascha) and the verb “to suffer” (pascho) are almost identical. In the story of the Last Supper, Jesus foretells his own suffering that will happen tomorrow on the cross, and links his own Passion with the Jewish Passover. Just as Israel was delivered from the bonds of slavery in Egypt and sent into the land of promise by the Passover, so is the Church delivered from the bonds of sin and death into an everlasting life with God in the Passion of our Lord on Good Friday. Jesus goes on to say to his disciples that “he will not eat it [the Passover, that is] until it is fulfilled in the kingdom of God.” In some ancient manuscripts, it is recorded that he says “he will not eat it again until it is fulfilled in the kingdom of God,” as if he’s celebrating the Passover in that moment in the Last Supper. Jesus’ sacrificial death on the cross is the fulfillment of the Jewish Passover. And tonight, as we celebrate the Eucharist, we reenact the fulfilled Passover in this great sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving. In the Passover, a lamb is sacrificed to give God’s chosen people what they need to avoid the devastating effects of God’s judgment. At times throughout the year during the liturgy, we sing, “Christ our Passover is sacrificed for us! Therefore let us keep the feast!” Each time we celebrate the Eucharist, we are united to the once-and-for-all sacrifice of Jesus on the cross. It is through Jesus’s sacrifice that we are brought into the Promised Land and freed from the bonds of sin and death. Each time we celebrate the Eucharist, we are joined with each Eucharistic celebration throughout history and each future Eucharist that is to come, along with all of the saints who have ever come to the altar rail throughout history and those who will in the future. So, let us celebrate the fulfillment of this festival just as our ancestors did in Egypt so long ago. But before we do, we will observe another ritual that has been around since at least the year 694: the washing of the feet. In John’s gospel, just before the Passover, Jesus washes the feet of his disciples. Peter initially responds, “You will never wash my feet,” utterly appalled at the thought of his Master washing his feet. In washing his disciples’ feet, Jesus takes the place of servant to his own servants. Beyond inverting the image of leadership, Jesus performs a very intimate act in this moment. Exposing one’s feet to another was just as unusual in the 1st century as it is in our culture. In my home parish, I always remember some of the ladies going to get pedicures before Mass on Maundy Thursday. I mean, I get their urge to gussy up their feet so as not to gross out the priest, but I wonder if they’re missing the point entirely. In this humble act of service, Jesus is modeling what the Christian life is all about: just as he washed his disciples’ feet, so are they to go and do likewise. For “servants are not greater than their master, nor are messengers greater than the one who sent them.”[2] He then continues, “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” Despite his having experienced this intimate moment with his Lord, we will hear tomorrow that Peter proceeds to deny his Lord three times. He’s not the only one – Judas not only denies him, he betrays him. But there’s a significant difference between Peter and Judas which Pope Benedict XVI explores in his book, “Jesus of Nazareth.” For Peter, there is true mourning and sorrow, as Peter’s eyes meet our Lord’s after denying even knowing Jesus three times. Peter—who was full of brash confidence—has now come face to face with his own weakness and inconstancy. And this confrontation with the truth hurts. But Peter’s mourning—while painful—brings him to the truth and ultimately repentance. For Pope Benedict, the key difference between Peter and Judas here is that unlike Judas’s desolate despair, Peter’s mourning includes a glimmer of hope and a sense of God’s infinite mercy. And this gives Peter the chance to start over. Moved by God’s grace and having come face to face with his own weakness, now he is ready to let God work through him in an even more powerful way. Benedict writes: “Struck by the Lord’s gaze, Peter bursts into healing tears that plow up the soil of his soul. He begins anew and is himself renewed”.[3] Let us remember the feast of the Passover tonight recognizing our own weakness, but with a glimmer of hope. For we will need that hope to get us through the long hours of Good Friday when our Lord’s suffering is almost unbearable, and death and despair seem be the final word. Let the glimmer of hope given to us in this Holy Feast give us the strength we need to serve others in Christ’s name – to love one another, just as He has loved us. [1] Verse 14. [2] John 13:14. [3] https://biblestudyforcatholics.com/mourning-judas-vs-mourning-peter/ Palm/Passion Sunday, Year C St. Mary’s Episcopal Church The Rev’d Charles Everson Luke 19:28-40, Phil 2:5-11, Luke 23:1-49 April 14, 2019 The audio recording of this sermon can be found here. We begin this holiest of weeks with a joyful procession, even when it’s cloudy and chilly outside! Our procession with palms is meant to re-enact in some way Jesus’s triumphal entry into Jerusalem, though I have to say, I’m glad that we don’t include an actual donkey in our re-enactment as they tend to leave “presents” along the path that would be difficult to dodge. (Also, note this year that Luke’s re-telling of this story doesn’t include palms. We cheated and used palms anyway.) Luke, just like the other three gospel writers, puts his particular spin on this scene. His focus can be seen in verse 37 when “the whole multitude of the disciples began to praise God joyfully with a loud voice…saying, “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven!”” In this joyful proclamation, we hear echoes of Luke’s telling of the Christmas story in chapter 2 in which a multitude of angels appeared and sang, “Glory be to God on high, and on earth peace goodwill towards men.” So is peace found on earth…or in heaven? The answer to this question is dependent upon which king you choose to serve. Will you serve Caesar or will you serve Christ? Caesar’s kingdom is based on domination and ruthless power, the kind of kingship Jesus refused when he was tempted in the wilderness. God’s kingdom is based on justice, mercy, and love.[1] To which kingdom do you belong? The kingdom of heaven, or the kingdom of this world? The kingdom of this world with all of its hate and war and conflict and suffering led by self-serving leaders? Or the kingdom of heaven, where the first shall be last and the last shall be first… where there is no death, neither sorrow nor crying, but the fulness of joy? St. Paul’s beautiful hymn we heard from his letter to the Philippians reveals the type of king that Jesus truly is: a self-less king who took the form of a slave and humbled himself and became obedient to death – even death on a cross. His humiliation lead to his exaltation. His death led to life. Jesus submitted himself to death the same way he had submitted himself to everything else that made him fully human.[2] Paul calls us to let the same mind be in us that was in Christ Jesus. Someday, you and I will also be called to be obedient to death, just as he did. But today, we are free as Jesus was to decide how to orient our lives: inwardly, to serve our own selfish desires, or outwardly, to serve God and other people. And then, after Paul’s hymn, we heard Luke’s Passion narrative, and again we hear of this conflict between the kingdom of earth and the kingdom of heaven. The assembly accused Jesus before Pilate, the governor of Roman province of Judea, saying that Jesus was perverting their nation, forbidding them to pay taxes to the emperor, and saying that he’s a king.[3] Pilate, representing the Emperor, finds no reason to convict him. He then tries to pawn him off on the Roman governor of Galilee, Jesus’s hometown, and Herod, too, didn’t find him guilty and sent him back to Pilate. Finally, Pilate declares that Jesus will be released. But the crowd was having none of it. They finally convince the representative of the earthly king to execute the heavenly king for crimes he didn’t commit. To which kingdom do you belong? The kingdom of heaven, or the kingdom of this world? Right now, you and I are living in the tension between the two. Every human being is held captive by the aftereffects of the sins of our first parents, and we can’t escape this world without dying. But by our baptism into the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, we have been grafted in to God’s family. By going down into the water, we renounced our citizenship of the kingdom of this world, and by rising again, we received new citizenship in God’s kingdom. On Palm/Passion Sunday, we are reminded that despite the fact that we live in this world, we are not of this world. In a sense, we are living in a strange and foreign land where our allegiance to the true king is mocked and scorned and rejected. Jesus entered Jerusalem to these cries: “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven!” He left Jerusalem having been executed as a criminal, convicted of crimes against the state he didn’t commit, and the crowds who gathered there for his execution returned home beating their breasts in utter despair. For the king of the universe was dead, killed by the human authorities of this world. Why did he die? To bring peace, in both heaven and on earth. Jesus Christ stretched out his arms upon the cross, and offered himself, in obedience to his Father’s will, a perfect sacrifice for the whole world. But the peace that he brought to us in his death will not be brought to completion until Easter. Today, in the cycle of the church year, we enter into a time of intense sadness. The peace that we long for and know will ultimately come isn’t here quite yet. For now, we are left in sorrow, for it seems that the rulers and principalities of this world have defeated and killed our Lord. Despite knowing how the story ends, the Church invites us to walk with Jesus this week on his long journey of suffering. The Church invites us to let the same mind be in us that was in Christ Jesus. To follow our Lord in his obedience to death, even death on a cross. In a moment, as he’s preparing the table for communion, Deacon Gerry will quietly perform an ancient part of the liturgy that has been around since at least the year 150 AD. He will place a single drop of water in the chalice of wine and say quietly under his breath, "By the mystery of this water and wine may we come to share in the divinity of Christ, who humbled himself to share in our humanity." The water represents humanity, and the wine represents Christ, and in the comingling of the two elements, they become inseparable. Let the same mind be in us that was in Christ Jesus, that we may share in his divinity just as he shared in our humanity. [1] David Lyon Bartlett, and Barbara Brown Taylor. Feasting on the Word. Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009. Kindle edition, location 5243 of 18450. [2] Ibid 5819. [3] Luke 23:1-3. Mary as Model: Simple Adoration as Lenten Devotion (John 12.1-8) Fourth Sunday in Lent at St. Mary’s Episcopal Church, Kansas City Isaac Petty The audio recording of this sermon can be found here. There are several Marys in the Bible who can serve as models for us. We have the Blessed Virgin, for whom this parish is named [and sidebar: I probably don’t have to say much about what she did … (or what she didn’t do) … but if you want to know more, see Fr. Charles after the Mass]; Okay, where were we? Oh yes – Marys. There’s also Mary Magdalene, one of the first evangelists of the Resurrection; and there are others, including Mary of Bethany, whom we encounter in today’s Gospel passage. We know very little about Mary of Bethany, but we know that she and Martha were sisters of Lazarus, the one who died and was brought back to life by Jesus. Actually, that story of the raising of Lazarus is the only place in Scripture where we get to hear this Mary’s words. In John 11, the chapter preceding today’s reading, we get this verse: “When Mary came where Jesus was and saw him, she knelt at his feet and said to him, ‘Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died’” (Jn 11.32 NRSV). Probably the most notable time we encounter this Mary in the Gospel accounts is when Jesus visits Mary and her sister Martha. There, too, Mary is at Jesus’s feet, although this time she is simply listening to Jesus’s teaching while her sister Martha is busy being the **hostess with the mostest.** Jesus even says “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her” (Luke 10.41b-42 NRSV). In today’s lesson, Mary is at Jesus’s feet yet again, but this time she is anointing those feet with expensive perfume and wiping them with her hair. This time, instead of Martha being mad at Mary for not helping her serve Jesus, we have a recognized disciple being so taken with greed that he misses her devotion. To read from the lesson at verse four: “Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (the one who was about to betray [Jesus]) {John always layers on the details for us}, [Judas] said, ‘Why was this perfume not sold for [a year’s wages] and the money given to the poor?’” (Jn 12.4-5 NRSV, edited). I love that John also gives us a note of explanation next. Verse six: “[Judas] said this not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief; he kept the common purse and used to steal what was put into it” (Jn 12.6 NRSV). The tie of Judas’ greed probably brings up the story of Jesus’s crucifixion for many of us – and if not, then I hope my comment helps bring Christ’s Passion into view here. In this Lenten journey, the lectionary passages remind us that we are journeying with Jesus to Jerusalem. A few verses before today’s reading, we hear “Now the Passover of the Jews was near, and many went up from the country to Jerusalem before the Passover to purify themselves” (Jn 11.55 NRSV) and today’s passage begins “Six days before the Passover, Jesus came to Bethany…” (Jn 12.1 NRSV). Christ’s Passion and Resurrection should be heard in terms of the Jewish Passover, where Jesus celebrated with his disciples and instituted a different way of gathering for the religious feast – developing into the Eucharist we know today. The journey to the feast – for Jesus, to the feast of Passover, and to us, to the greatest feast of Easter – is a journey of preparation; of self-denial; of purification; of devotion. Our trek with Jesus to the Cross, even as people with Resurrection hope, is a calling to greater devotion to Jesus – to move away from self-centered desires and to practice the simplicity of sitting at Jesus’s feet. Like Martha, we may get so busy in doing work for Jesus that we forget to simply adore of Him. Instead, even the seemingly most religious among us, devout disciples of Jesus, can begin to miss the devotion of other people – of disciples who aren’t recognized as such. Judas was filled with vile contempt and didn’t see the point of Mary’s devotion. So, reading from the lesson: “Jesus said ‘Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial. You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me’” (Jn 12.7-8 NRSV). While giving of what we have to the poor and picking up pious slack is meet and right so to do in the Lenten season (as well as year-round, I might add), we must also recognize the importance of simply sitting at Jesus’s feet and being transformed by his teaching. In the growth toward simplicity and adoration, we have an exemplary model in Mary of Bethany. Here, we are called by one with no words to devotion – a short sermon where Mary is recognized as less of a disciple and isn’t even recorded speaking, yet her simple devotion speaks to us in a voiceless sermon all these centuries later. When Matthew and Mark tell of this event in their Gospel accounts, they close with one more line from Jesus: “Truly I tell you, wherever this [gospel] is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in remembrance of her” (Mt 26.13 & Mk 14.9 NRSV, edited). Sermons may be short, such as this one on a busy Sunday, but no sermon of any length compares to the message of Mary’s simple devotion to Jesus. As we continue in this Lenten journey to shape the whole of our Christian lives, may we remember the call to simple devotion at the feet of Christ, ignoring distractions, staying strong against our self-seeking habits, and allowing ourselves to be discipled in such a way as to preach a voiceless sermon through our simple devotion. Amen. Fourth Sunday in Lent, Year C St. Mary’s Episcopal Church The Rev’d Charles Everson Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32 March 31, 2019 The audio recording of this sermon can be found here. In today's gospel lesson, we hear the last in a series of three parables that portray God as seeking out that which is lost, the first being the parable of the Lost Sheep and the second, the parable of the Lost Coin. Jesus addressed these three parables, not to the tax-collectors and sinners who had come to hear him, but to the Pharisees and scribes who weren’t happy with Jesus’ scandalous insistence on spending time with sinners. It’s a very familiar story. There was a man with two sons. The younger son asked his father for his half of the property he will inherent one day, but while the father was still alive. The father presumably sold half of his property and gave the proceeds to the younger son who left to go off to a distant country and squander it on “dissolute living.” As the Jews considered their ancestral land holdings to be God’s gift to their families[1], the Pharisees and scribes who first heard this parable would have understood the younger son to have committed blasphemy. The younger son’s fortunes changed after he had spent everything when a famine struck, and he wasn’t even able to afford to feed himself with the food given to the pigs. Then, the he had a realization. He realized that he’s in a foreign land with no family, no faith, no food, no friends. He realized that despite his shame, despite the fact that his family may reject him, he needed to go home. His entire perspective about his life changed in an instant. One might say that began the process of repentance. He rehearsed the speech he would give once he sees his father, and then takes off. But while he was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him. The Father was already looking for him and had already forgiven him before he had time to say anything at all. He was filled with compassion, not anger, and runs to him. The younger son then formalizes his repentance by saying, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son.” The Father did something remarkable in response – he had his slave bring out a robe, a ring, and sandals, all signs that he viewed his son truly as a son, not as a slave. And then they celebrated. They celebrated and ate the fatted calf, for the father’s son was dead and is alive again, he was lost and is found. When I hear someone’s private confession, I often counsel him or her to read this parable in thanksgiving for God’s compassion and forgiveness. Essentially, without saying it, I’m asking the penitent to put himself in the place of the younger son in this story. It’s easy to focus on the younger son’s journey as it’s outrageous and full of drama and emotion. But remember…Jesus’s message here isn’t for the tax collectors and sinners, it’s for the Pharisees and scribes – the religious people of the day. Enter the elder son onto the scene. He came in from working the field and is furious at what’s going on, despite his father pleading for him to come to the feast. He said, “For all these years I have been working like a slave for you! You killed the fatted calf for my brother who devoured your property with prostitutes, but you’ve never offered me and my friends even a small goat to celebrate. This isn’t fair!” When I think back on my own life, I tend to identify more with the elder brother. I was the eldest son, and growing up, I was a rather prudish Southern Baptist teenager who judged my parents for having even the slightest sip of alcohol. My younger sister, a year-and-a-half younger than me, felt a bit freer to go off the reservation. For example, I was obsessed with going to church multiple times a week, while my sister had a slightly different approach to church: she once had my mother drop her and a friend off at the all-night church lock-in retreat, only to have some boys pick them up before the doors were locked. I worked in the school office as a side job for a couple of years in high school, and handled the attendance records. Let’s just say that my sister couldn’t really skip class without getting caught. I remember one rather tense fight between big bro and little sis in which Carri yelled at me with a snarl, “Why do you have to be so good?” At almost 39 years of age, I’m still more prone to identify with the elder brother. I’ve often looked upon those who live an outwardly disobedient life with a strange curiosity…but if I admit it, a think I might envy them. Like the elder brother, when God’s grace is lavishly bestowed on someone who has committed all the sins I wish I had had the courage to commit but didn't, I often respond with resentment. It’s not fair! For I try to do all the right things, and check all the boxes, and stay out of trouble. The elder brother in this story represents the Pharisees and scribes, and Jesus’s message to them was, “God is not fair.” He doesn’t dole out his grace according to our good and bad actions, he goes after he who is lost in order to find him. He doesn’t reward us for our good deeds and punish us for our sins, he chose to bear the punishment for our sinful deeds himself on the Cross. How does the Father respond to the elder brother’s resentment? By inviting him to the feast to celebrate the redemption of his brother. The truth of the matter is that both sons were lost. A lot of biblical editors call this the Parable of the Prodigal Son, but it’s more accurate to call it the Parable of the Lost Sons. The elder son, full of resentment, didn’t realize that he too was lost. He hadn’t recognized, “I can’t do this on my own. No matter how hard I try, I won’t be able to earn my Father’s favor. I’m not worthy to be called my Father’s son.” Instead, he saw his Father as an accountant.[2] “All these years I’ve been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command, yet you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends.” Like the Pharisees and scribes didn’t understand Jesus, the elder brother didn’t really understand his Father at all. In some ways, the elder son might have been more lost than his younger brother was. God is not an accountant. God is not a task master who treats all of us like slaves. God is not fair! No matter the extent of our sin, no matter the amount of shame we’ve accumulated, God is a loving Father who doles out his grace before we even have time to think about changing our perspective and coming home. Whether you identify with the younger or older son, God is inviting you and me today to a great feast. We aren’t killing the fatted calf today to celebrate someone else’s redemption. Across time and space, we are joining in the once-and-for-all sacrifice of the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the whole world. But before we do, we would do well to echo the words of the younger son when he said, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son.” For it is only when we recognize who we are and who God is that we can begin to perceive his unconditional love for us. It is only then that we can begin to perceive that this celebration – this feast – is not only for the wayward son who has come home, it’s for us too. [1] David Lyon Bartlett, and Barbara Brown Taylor. Feasting on the Word. Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009. Kindle edition, location 4010 of 18450. [2] Same Old Song podcast, Mockingbird ministries. https://www.mbird.com/podcasts/ |
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To the Glory of God and in honor of the Blessed Virgin Mary
St. Mary's is a parish of the Diocese of West Missouri, The Episcopal Church, and the Anglican Communion.
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