Month: March 2024

Easter People

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Easter, Sermons Year BLeave a comment

John 20:1-18 NRSV

Welcome to First Christian Church in Lynchburg, Virginia! According to our Facebook page, we are “an Open and Affirming congregation celebrating diversity with a reasoned faith and passion for justice.”

Anyone hear a problem with that? Especially today on Easter Sunday. Of course, I am talking about the word “reasoned.” I know we mean that we are thoughtful, thinking, don’t-check-our-brain-before-entering-the-sanctuary Christians who believe COVID and science is real, dinosaurs existed, the earth is not flat and more than 4,000 years old. But do you think there might be a better word to describe us than “reasoned?”

Because did you hear the words I read before Logan was baptized?

“Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? Therefore, we have been buried with him by baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life” (Romans 6).

Now tell me. What about that sounds “reasonable?” I guess we could add something else to it to make it appeal more to reason, like, I don’t know, some words from Thomas Jefferson, James Madison or Lee Greenwood?

Søren Kierkegaard, the great Danish theologian, writes: “Christianity has taken a giant stride into the absurd. Remove from Christianity its ability to shock, and it is altogether destroyed. It then becomes a tiny superficial thing…It’s when the absurd starts to sound reasonable that we should begin to worry.” He goes on to name a few of Jesus’ shocking and unreasonable assertions: “Blessed are the meek; love your enemies; go and sell all you have and give it to the poor.”[i]

If you listen to some of the most popular preachers today, Christianity is not about absurdity. It’s about nationalism. It’s about the freedom to oppress people who live, love and worship differently. It’s about turning back the clock, putting people back in their places, taking away their rights. Instead of being about seeing and loving transgendered people today, it is about ignoring them and hurting them.

Or it’s all about positive thinking. It’s about how to be successful, happy, satisfied, and at home, at work, and at play, in marriage, in friendships, and in business. There’s no absurd talk of answering a call to pick up and carry a cross to love another. No unreasonable talk of dying to self or loving our neighbors as ourselves. No foolish talk about the poor being blessed and the meek inheriting the earth.

Perhaps this tendency to rationalize the gospel has been with us since day one. Just listen to Mary and the way she makes sense out of that first Easter morning when she saw that the stone had been removed.

So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple…and said to them, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb…

Of course, that is what has happened. Any reasoned person with a lick of common sense can deduce this. It would be absurd to believe anything else!

“Mary stood weeping outside the tomb..”

Also a very reasonable thing to do in this situation.

As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb; and she saw two angels in white…They said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping?”

She said to them, “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.”

“And I do not know…” Here she comes close to the heart of the truth, that she “does not know everything,” that things in this world are not always black and white, but then it becomes obvious that she is still grounded in earthly wisdom, still constrained by human reason and good common sense: “I don’t know where they have laid him.”

When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not know that it was Jesus

Of course, it’s not Jesus. That would be absurd.

15Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for? Supposing him to be the gardener…”

Of course, he’s probably the gardener. That’s most reasonable explanation.

She says to him, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.”

A rational request, a reasonable appeal.

But the good news is that the risen Christ is continually liberating us from the restrictions of rational thought, reasonable assertions, and all the limitations of human reason!

The Risen Christ is continually breaking the restraints of common sense, pushing the boundaries of human logic. He is continually calling us out of the black and white world that we have all figured out to live in a new realm that many would regard as absurd.

And notice how he is does it. He breaks the barriers of worldly wisdom, the presuppositions that Mary has of what is going on in this world and not going on in this world, by calling her by name.

Jesus says to her, “Mary!”

And for Mary, this is the moment she takes a great stride into the absurd, the moment her whole world is suddenly transformed! This is the moment Mary began walking by faith and not by sight.

In his second letter to the Corinthians, Paul writes these words:

[Jesus] died for all, so that those who live might live no longer for themselves, but for him who died and was raised for them. From now on, therefore, we regard no one from a human point of view; even though we once knew Christ from a human point of view, we know him no longer in that way. 17So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new!

The Apostle Paul is writing about a miraculous change that has been wrought in his life because of the change that has been wrought in the world through God in Jesus Christ.

 Paul is saying that at one time he understood Christ with the reason of mortals—as a great teacher, a fine moral example.But now he is able to see in the death and resurrection of Christ, a radical shift in the entire world. In Christ, a new age has been inaugurated. The whole world has been transformed. Just as God brought light out of darkness in creation, God has now recreated the world in the life, death, and resurrection of Christ.

This is what the great theologian Moltmann was trying to point out when he said, “We have attempted to view the resurrection of Christ from the viewpoint of history. Perhaps the time has come for us to view history from the viewpoint of the resurrection!”

Paul was saying that when Jesus was raised from the dead, the whole world had shifted on its axis. All was made new.

This is exactly what happened to Mary when the risen Lord called her by name.

When she hears her name called, Mary recognizes the risen Christ, turns and says to him in Hebrew, “Rabbouni!” (which means Teacher).

 And Mary experienced a transformation that was so real, that she was compelled to announce it to the world: “I have seen the Lord!”

You know, it’s one thing to experience something that you know the whole world thinks is absurd or foolish. But it takes foolishness to a whole other level when you go out and share that something with the world.

But that is just what people who have experienced the good news of Easter do.

The Apostle Paul once outrageously put it this way:

“The way of the cross is foolishness” to the world. “We proclaim Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to the Gentiles.”

That is why on this day of days, when some look at us gathered here, praying, singing, preaching and baptizing, repeating aloud that our Lord is risen, “he is risen indeed,” and they say that everything that we are doing here today only confirms their preconceptions that we are a bunch of fools who have who have lost our ability to reason, we smile and have the audacity to respond: “You have no idea just how foolish we are!”

“How foolish? you ask.”

Oh, as Easter people, we’re foolish enough!

  • As Easter people foolish enough to believe that the only life worth living is a life that is given away.
  • We’re foolish enough to believe the Kingdom of God belongs to the poor, that those who hunger and thirst for justice will be filled.
  • We’re foolish enough to believe the last shall be first.
  • We’re foolish enough to believe that all things work together for the good.
  • We’re foolish enough to believe that nothing can separate us from the love of God.
  • We’re foolish enough to believe that this world can be a better place.
  • We’re foolish enough to believe we can take steps to heal our planet.
  • We’re foolish enough to live in the gray, understanding that not everything in this world is black and white. We can be losing ourselves while saving ourselves, believing there is joy in sorrow, beauty in chaos, hope in despair, and life in death. We can grieve abortions while supporting the reproductive rights of women. We can support law enforcement while believing black lives matter. We can call for a cease-fire in Gaza and pray for Palestinians, while standing firm against antisemitism. We can say free the hostages and free Palestine. And we can preach against Christian Nationalism and condemn a Bible with an American flag on the cover while loving God and country.

And we are foolish enough to take foolish to whole other level!

  • We’re foolish enough to respect the faiths of all people.
  • We’re foolish enough to call a Jew and a Palestinian our sibling and pray for them both.
  • We’re foolish enough to love our neighbors as ourselves.
  • We’re foolish enough to love an enemy, welcome a stranger, include a foreigner.
  • We’re foolish enough to forgive seventy times seven.
  • We’re foolish enough to turn the other cheek, go the extra mile, and give the very shirts off our backs.
  • We’re foolish enough to stand up for the marginalized, defend the most vulnerable, and fight to free the oppressed. That means that we are foolish enough to see our transgendered siblings this day.
  • We’re foolish enough to get back up when life knocks us down.
  • We’re foolish enough to never give up, never give in, and never give out.
  • We’re foolish enough to believe that nothing can stop us, not even death.

Because, although it may seem absurd and far from reasonable, we believe somebody loves us.

Somebody came and taught us to see the world in a brand new way.

Somebody picked up and carried a cross.

Somebody suffered.

Somebody gave all they had, even to the point of death.

Somebody rose from the grave.

And that same somebody found us and called us by name.

Let us pray together:

Let the absurdity of the gospel inform and guide our lives.

         Continue to call us my name.

         Transform our lives.

         Fashion us with the hands of Christ.

         Form us with the heart of Christ.

         Shape us with the hope of Christ.

         So that we may live as those who believe in the communion of the saints, the forgiveness of sins and the resurrection of the dead.

As those who live as Easter people proclaiming to all people:

         Christ is risen!  Alleluia!

Christ is risen indeed!  Alleluia!

[i] http://sojo.net/magazine/2007/08/foolishness-cross

Worst Parade Ever

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Lent, Sermons Year B1 Comment

 John 12:12-15 NRSV

It has been said that “Everybody loves a parade!” I have often thought that this is the reason, in their desire to fill the pews on Sunday morning, churches are tempted act like some type of parade.

You know, like the parades they have down in New Orleans where they throw candy, toys, beads, and all sorts of fun things from the floats that pass by. I have often thought that people go to parades like some people go to church: to get something, to catch something that is thrown their way, something sweet, pleasant, something that is going to make their lives better, make their families stronger, happier.

Then there are other parades. Although no candy is thrown, these parades just have a way of making us feel good. They put us in a good mood. Nothing gets some of us in the Holiday Spirit like the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade.

There are people who go to church to get in a particular mood. They go to hear something that moves them, stirs them. They go to see something that wows them. They go to ooh and ahh. They go to get a good feeling that will hopefully last them the rest of the week.

Then there are military parades. President Trump once said that is what our country needs. They show off a well-trained, well-conditioned army marching in step with tanks and missiles with nuclear warheads to show the world who’s the strongest and the greatest, whose citizens are the safest, most protected, most secure.

Just like some people go to church to get something that makes them feel a little more superior than others, reaffirms their power and privilege. They also go to be protected from all sorts of evil. And they go for some eternal security.

If we pay attention, we discover that each of these parades has the same drumbeat. It is a beat that is easy for us to march to. It is a beat of pleasure, a beat of comfort, a beat of self-preservation, but also self-indulgence and self-aggrandizement. It is a beat of pride, a beat of greed, a beat that entices us.

And, although we know this beat has an innate tendency to be depraved, although we know this beat often stirs the darker, most selfish places within us, we love this beat. Many live by this beat, work by this beat, relate to others by this beat, vote by this beat. We even worship by this beat.

But on this Palm Sunday, we are reminded that there is yet another kind of parade. And it’s a parade that marches to the beat of very different drum.

Nearing the end of his life, Jesus, the savior of the world, paraded into Jerusalem to liberate God’s people, not on some white war stallion, but on a borrowed donkey; not with a well-trained, well-conditioned army, but with a gang of rag-tag students who had no idea what they were doing or where they were going.

The late Henri Nouwen, one of my favorite authors and pastors once said, that to much of the world, this parade looked “downright stupid.”

For Jesus marched to a difficult beat that pushes against the status quo, that pulls us out of our comfort zones, that challenges our instincts.

While others marched to the beat of a self-serving, self-seeking, self-preserving drum, Jesus rode a donkey and marched to the beat of a self-giving, self-denying drum.

As the crowds waved palm branches and shouted “Hosanna! God save us!” Jesus answered their cries by marching to a beat of sacrificial, unconditional love for all people, especially for those considered to be among least. Although he knew he would be killed for it, Jesus kept marching forward with a scandalous, socially acceptable love and an offensive grace.

Yes, bouncing in on the back of a donkey, Jesus marched to the beat of a very different drum.

During Virginia 10-miler in September, I have been told that several of you have made signs to hold up to cheer on the runners who make their way up and down Rivermont and Langhorn. As a runner, I know the type. These signs are often very creative. I have seen signs that say: “You Are Running Better than the Government.” One of my favorite signs that I see people holding in nearly every race reads: “Worst Parade Ever.”

If we are honest, this is our initial reaction to this Palm Sunday parade. The people cry “Hosanna! God save us!” And here comes God, riding in on a donkey!

This is not a parade of pride. It is a parade of humility.

It is not a parade that entertains. It is a parade that suffers.

It is not a parade of pleasure. It is parade of agony.

It is not a parade of self-preservation. It is a parade of self-expenditure.

And although the route of this parade brought Jesus to the capital city, this parade was not good news for the rich and the powerful, the self-important and the self-sufficient.

This parade was good news for the poor, the suffering, the marginal, the prisoners—for all who thirst and hunger justice and compassion.

This march was good news those who had been left out and left behind: For sinners condemned by bad religion; For women, children and minorities silenced by the privileged; For the broken cast aside by society; For all those who are unable to march: the blind, the disabled, the mentally ill, the wounded and the sick. For all who needed salvation.

Maybe the President was partly right. What America needs right now is a good parade.

However, we do not need a parade led by tanks and missiles with nuclear warheads asserting that military might is the answer to our problems.

We need a parade led by one riding a donkey asserting that selfless love is the answer.

We need a parade that emphasizes that what this nation needs is more humility and less arrogance, more respect and less name-calling, more empathy and less callousness, more acts of kindness and less meaness.

We need a parade led by one riding a donkey showcasing not those who sit in the highest seats of power, but school children who just want to be safe, workers who just want a living wage, persons with different abilities who just want to be included, the sick who just want to see a doctor, the poor who just want to eat, the oppressed who just want to be free, refugees who just want to live, immigrants who just want to be seen as human beings rather than animals, and women who just want the government to stay out of their most personal decisions.

We need a parade led by our savior who rides a donkey!

And if we are honest, we would confess that this parade is not always easy for us accept. Notice verse 16: “His disciples did not understand these things…” The truth is: neither can we.

United Methodist Bishop William Willimon writes:

We wanted Jesus to come to town on a warhorse, and Jesus rode in on a donkey. We wanted Jesus to march up to the statehouse and fix the political problem, and Jesus went to the temple to pray. We wanted Jesus to get organized, mobilize his forces, get the revolution going, set things right, and Jesus gathered with his friends in an upper room, broke bread, and drank wine. We wanted Jesus to go head-to-head with the powers-that-be, and Jesus just hung there, on Friday from noon until three, with hardly a word.

Jesus didn’t come fixing all our problems. He didn’t come offering us health and wealth, an easy life or even a better life. He didn’t come showering us with treats to make us feel good. And he didn’t come showing us his power and might. Jesus came riding a donkey.

For God so loved the world that God emptied God’s self. God poured God’s self out and showed us the way to love. God bore our rejection and suffered, even to death on cross. God came to us—not in the way that we wanted—but, the good news is, God came in the way that we need for life—abundant and eternal.

Those great theologians of our time, the Rolling Stones had it right:

You can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometime, you might just find, you get what you need.

We found the worst parade ever became the best parade ever!

I may want these pews to be full every Sunday morning. However, for us to be the church that God is calling us to be, worship service attendance on Sunday morning will never be as important as how we are worshiping God with our selfless service the rest of the week. How we march through these doors on Sunday morning is not nearly as important as how we are marching outside of these doors on Monday.

To determine if we are being the church God is calling us to be, what we need is a new gauge. We need a new benchmark to determine if we are marching to the beat of a different drum, a new indicator to tell if we are marching in the steps of the One who rides a donkey. For it’s not how many of us are coming to church that is important to this One. It’s what we are doing in the world to be the church.

Purchasing summer learning kits for to prepare underprivileged children for kindergarten is a sign that we are marching in the steps of the one who rides a donkey.

Building a community pantry and serving a meal at a local mission to feed people who are food-insecure is evidence that we are marching in the steps of the one who rides a donkey.

Worshipping with a Jewish synagogue to take a stand together against racism and hate demonstrates that we are marching in the steps of the one who rides a donkey.

Selflessly giving our time, our resources, and ourselves marching in a Christmas parade to advocate for inclusion, marching to the capital to cry out against injustice, violence and corruption, to speak up for the care of God’s creation; marching down the road to extend mercy to someone who is broken; marching across a room to perform a small act of kindness to a stranger, marching out in the darkness to be a friend to someone who is afraid, marching everywhere we go to love all of our neighbors as we love ourselves—

These are the markers that we are the church God is calling us to be.

May God give us the grace and the strength to keep marching forward to the beat of a different drum, to keep following in the steps of the One who rides a donkey; to keep marching a march of suffering, but also a march of joy; a march of sacrifice, but also a march of hope; a march to lose our lives, but also a march to save our lives.

At the Table with Jesus

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Lent, Sermons Year B1 Comment

John 12:1-8 NRSV

Every service of worship should begin with a warning.  Instead of a welcome and a few announcements, I believe the congregation needs to be forewarned, put on alert, and advised to proceed with caution.

Because every time we gather around a table that we say doesn’t belong to us but belongs to Jesus and partake in something we call “the Lord’s Supper” things are likely to get a little crazy! Things are bound to happen that surprise, even shock us. Things can mysteriously break out, break open, shift, and spill out. Because, here, at this table with Jesus, things are not always as we expect them to be, nor even as they appear to be.

To illustrate what I am trying to say, allow me to share a story.

Jesus is nearing the end of his ministry. There’s always been opposition to his radical way of love and the way it turned everything upside down. The first are last, and the last are first. The poor are blessed, and the rich are sent away empty. But now there is a sense that things are coming to a head. The enemies of Jesus, the religious leaders who profited from the status quo, those for whom life holds no mystery, those who have been lurking in the shadows plotting against him, are now ready to finally entrap him.

But before Jesus takes his disciples on that fateful journey into Jerusalem, he gathers for supper with his most faithful disciples, Mary and Martha, and oh-my-word, what a supper that was!

John opens the story by saying, “Jesus came to Bethany, the home of Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead.”

Now, can you imagine standing behind your chair at the table getting ready to pull it out and sit down when someone introduces you to the one standing at the head of the table by saying, “You know our host, Mr. Lazarus, don’t you?  Yeah, we didn’t know he was going to be able to host our gathering today, because a couple of weeks ago he became very ill.  And about a week ago, he was dead and buried.”

As you pull out your chair to sit down at the table, you’re thinking: “This is going to be one crazy supper!”

Well, not long after the wine is poured, Mary starts acting as if she has already had too much wine as she lets down her hair right there at the dinner table!  Then she shocks everyone, when takes a bottle of very expensive perfume, gets down on her knees under the table, and begins anointing the feet of Jesus! Pouring the perfume all over his feet and wiping his feet with her hair! The fragrance, almost overbearing, fills the entire house. Perfume and hair everywhere!  At the supper table!

John mentions only one other guest at the table that evening. He is the disciple whose reputation precedes him: Judas Iscariot—The very disciple who will betray Jesus. Now, let me ask you this, can this supper get any more crazy?

Shaking his head at Mary making a spectacle of herself under the table, Judas, being the good, committed liberal that he is, asks a great ethical question: “Why wasn’t this expensive perfume sold and the money given to the poor rather than wasting it by pouring it all over Jesus’ feet?”

It is rather shocking that it comes from Judas, for it’s the type of question that one can easily imagine the Jesus asking.

Well, surprise, surprise, Judas! You have been paying attention! You didn’t sleep through all of Jesus’ sermons! Way to go, Judas!”

But then, just when you thought things could not become more crazy, comes an even bigger surprise in the way Jesus responds: “The poor you will have with you always, but you will not always have me.”   Whaat? Why would Jesus say something like that?

But then we begin to get it. When Jesus first mentioned burial, we thought he was talking about Lazarus. But this is not about Lazarus. And this is not about the poor. This is about what is going to take place in Jerusalem during the next couple of weeks.

What should be a happy gathering of good friends enjoying a lovely supper is a prelude to the crucifixion. Jesus is at the table with both friends and betrayer. Sweet smelling perfume is not the only thing in the air. Disloyalty, disappointment, and death are also in the air. But so is unconditional love, extravagant grace and love poured out.

What a supper this has turned out to be! So much more going on beyond the senses.

This is how it always is with Jesus. When we choose to follow Jesus, to eat and drink with Jesus and choose to include those with whom he ate and drank, we can expect that there is always more meaning beyond the moment, more reality beyond the senses. The truth is that this very morning, here in this place, there is more going on than we can possibly imagine. There is more happening here than the saying of a few prayers, the singing of few hymns, the tasting of a little bread and the sipping of a little juice.

Because, in this place the Holy One is mysteriously, yet certainly present, communing with us, giving the Divine Self to us, revealing the Divine Self for us. And as flawed, fragmented human beings, we can count on being surprised and even shocked by the revelation.

So, this morning, I am asking you to hold on to the pews, for anytime Christ comes among us things are liable to break out, break open, change, shift and spill out.

You might have thought you were going to come to this place to see a few friends, but before you leave this place, you may be shocked to discover that you have seen Jesus here.

Soon after Jesus arrives in Jerusalem, John says that some Greeks come to Philip and said, “Sir, we wish to see Jesus.”

Philip went and told Andrew; then they both went and told Jesus. And listen to how Jesus answers them: “Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life. Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also.”

Jesus seems to be saying: “They want to see me? Then tell them they must be willing to die to themselves, break their bodies, pour themselves out. Turn the world upside down. Follow me by humbly being a servant to the least of these among us. And it is there, perhaps in the least likely place, and among the least likely people, in the least likely of ways, there they will see me.”

Henri Nouwen was a gifted Catholic priest and brilliant teacher who taught at prestigious universities like Harvard and Yale. He was a renowned author and sought-after speaker. However, answering a call to follow Jesus, he left the Ivy League to spend the last decade of his life serving as a chaplain within a community of people with severe emotional, mental, and physical disabilities.

In one of his many books, Nouwen tells a story about Trevor, a man in that community who was dealing with such severe mental and emotional challenges that he had to be sent to a psychiatric unit at a large hospital for an evaluation. One day Henri wanted to visit him, so he called the hospital and arranged for a visit.

When the administrators at the hospital received word that Henri Nouwen, the renowned author and teacher from Yale and Harvard would be coming, they reached out to him and asked if they might have lunch with him in the Golden Room—the most elegant meeting room in the hospital. They would also invite doctors and other clergy to the special luncheon. Nouwen agreed.

As soon as he arrived at the hospital, someone was there to meet him to take him to the Golden Room. When he got to the room, Trevor was nowhere to be seen. Troubled, he asked about Trevor’s whereabouts.

“Oh,” said an administrator, “Trevor cannot join us for lunch. Patients and staff are not allowed to have lunch together. Besides, no patient has ever had lunch in the Golden Room.”

By nature, Henri was not a confrontational person. But perhaps guided by the Spirit, this crazy thought that came to his mind: “Include Trevor.” “Trevor ought to be here.”  So, Henri swallowed hard, turned to the administrator, and said, “But the whole purpose of my coming here was to visit with Trevor. So, if Trevor is not allowed to attend the lunch, I will not be able to attend.”

Well, the administrators couldn’t imagine missing an opportunity for lunch with the great Henri Nouwen, so they quickly found a way for Trevor to attend.

And this is when, like hair and perfume everywhere, things around the table. At one point during the lunch, Henri was talking to the person to his right and didn’t notice that Trevor, seated at his left, had stood up and lifted his glass of Dr. Pepper.

“A toast. I will now offer a toast,” Trevor said to the group.

Everybody in the room tensed up. What in the world was Trevor going to say?

Then Trevor, this deeply challenged man in a room full of PhDs and esteemed clergy, started to sing, “If you’re happy and you know it, raise your glass. If you’re happy and you know it, raise your glass…”

 No one knew what to do. It was awkward. Here was a man with a level of challenge and brokenness they could not begin to understand, yet he was beaming. Although most everyone one in the room was apprehensive about him being there, he was absolutely thrilled to be there. So, they started to sing. Softly at first, but then louder and louder until all the doctors and clergy and Henri Nouwen were practically shouting, “If you’re happy and you know it, raise your glass.”

Henri went on to give a brief lecture at the luncheon, but the moment everyone remembered, the moment everyone saw Jesus the most clearly and heard the word of God the most profoundly, happened through the person they all would have said was the least likely at the table to emulate Jesus.[i]

When we gather at the table with Jesus, things are not always what we expect them to be, nor are they what they appear to be. Like perfume and hair everywhere, the Holy Spirit of God is breaking out, breaking open, and spilling out.

You thought that you had things all figured out, that you knew what was going on and what was not going on in this world, only to discover that you do not have a clue.

This morning, you thought you were going to go to church, go through the motions and go back home unchanged, but to your startling surprise it has been revealed that you have been summoned, you have been called to do something that is bigger than you and to go on a journey that is far from home.

And here is the real shock, saying yes to this summons to die to yourself, to leave a place of comfort and security, you have never felt more alive, more you, and more at home.

[i] John Ortberg, in the sermon, “Guide.” Preachingtoday.com.

The Good Snake

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Lent, Sermons Year B1 Comment
Art by Carrie Knutsen

John 3:14-21 NRSV

It’s funny how I still have the same recurring nightmares that I had as a child.

Going to school and suddenly realizing that I forgot to dress myself that morning.

Being chased in the darkness by a gang of clowns that included Bozo, the Town Clown from Captain Kangaroo and Ronald McDonald.

But perhaps my most frightening recurring nightmare is the one where, I suddenly find myself standing in my front yard that is crawling with snakes. I can’t take on step without stepping on a slithering serpent.

Our deep fear of snakes makes even more strange the reference that Jesus makes to an obscure story in the book of Numbers.

 “And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up that whosever believes in him might have eternal life.”

 This reminds me of the Sumerian God of Healing who walked around with two intertwined snakes upon his staff, which was later adopted as the symbol for the American Medical Association.

It’s a strange image of healing, isn’t it? Two snakes on a staff. Something frightening and threatening as a symbol for healing and wholeness.

But anyone who has ever experienced surgery and has listened to the doctor discuss the risks involved, knows that if we want to be healed, sometimes we must take a risk. If we want to be made whole, sometimes our lives must be threatened.

Yet, we are often startled or frightened by any sight of a snake. And if we dream of snakes most of us would call that dream a nightmare.

 The story in the book of Numbers begins as the starving Israelites desperately cry out to God for help. God hears their prayers and sends manna from heaven. At first, they were grateful, but after eating the manna day after day after day after day, they are fed up with it, literally and figuratively. So, in a spirit of selfish ungratefulness, they begin to complain God.

 It is then that these “fiery” serpents show up.

 One of my favorite preachers, Barbara Brown Taylor, points out that the Hebrew word for “fiery” is Seraph. She says that it is a word that is used to describe how your ankle feels when it is bitten by a poisonous snake: “fiery.” The serpents who bit the Hebrews for their ungratefulness were called Seraphs. Does that sound familiar? It is also the Hebrew name for angels.

In Isaiah 6, we are told that Seraphs or Seraphim surrounded the throne of God, protecting God. And here in Numbers, these, fiery, frightening Seraphs, these slithering serpents show up to frighten, hurt, but to ultimately save the people.

One could say that these fiery angelic serpents come to strike the people back into their senses. Being brought close to death, they remember how precious life is. They apologize to Moses, admitting how selfish and ungrateful they had become.

“Please, Moses, ask God to call back the snakes!” they pleaded.

However, God doesn’t remove the evil from their midst. Instead, God says to Moses: “take a brass serpent, put it on a pole, and make the people look at it.” So that in the future, when self-centeredness and ungratefulness overtake them, they will look at the snake, the symbol of their sinfulness upon the pole, and be saved.

Moses makes a replica of the outcome of the sin of the people and lifts it up onto a pole, makes them look at it, and there, they are able to see that the Seraph of death has become the Seraph of life.

In looking at the truth of who they were, no matter how painful and fiery that truth was—they receive salvation.

And now John says that Jesus uses this serpent on a pole to describe himself.

In a conversation with Nicodemus, Jesus uses the image of a snake on a pole as a parable of what he was doing to save the world.  Thus, one could say that the Gospel of John refers to Jesus, not only as “the Good Shepherd,” but also as “the Good Snake.”

 Jesus surprised us when he came to dwell among us, slithering into our darkness, our sinfulness. He opened his mouth and spoke prophetic words that cut us like a sword.

His teachings to love all people unconditionally, including our enemies, to sell our possessions and give them to the poor, to humble ourselves by taking the lowest seat at the table, to turn the other cheek, to forgive seventy times seven, to walk the extra mile, to regard women and children with equality, to welcome the foreigner, to do justice on the behalf of the marginalized, to defend the sinner, to see God in the least of those among us, to deny ourselves, lose ourselves and take up a cross, felt like a fiery poison coursing through our veins as it made us realize that we have a propensity to love the darkness more than the light.

 So, we had him arrested, and when Pilate asked us to choose between an insurrectionist and Jesus, we chose the criminal. We tortured him and lifted him high on a pole. And while he was lifted up, his prophetic venomous words calling us to deny ourselves and take up our own crosses, somehow, some way became words of life.

And standing at the foot of this pole, all who, even today, hear him cry out, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do,” are able to look up and say, “Truly, this was the Son of God.”

 When we dare to look intently at our Good Snake hanging on the cross, we begin to realize that on that cross hangs our refusal to follow his way of love, grace and justice, our choice to feed ourselves rather than feed hungry, look after ourselves rather than heal the sick, love ourselves, rather than love our enemies, and stand up for the rich, privileged and powerful rather than for those considered to be the least. We realize that on that cross hangs our pride, tribalism, hate, and bigotry. We realize that it was none other than our sin that put Jesus on the cross.

         And it is in looking intently at the snake on the pole, we find our salvation. It is in looking at our propensity for evil in this world that saves us and enables us to build God’s kingdom of love, grace, and justice in this world.

This why we need to take notice when others try to prevent us from looking at our sins, acknowledging our evil past, and studying our blighted history. We need to wake up and pay attention when someone repeats a lie to re-write history constantly spouting misinformation such as: “The United States was founded as a Christian nation,” “the Civil War wasn’t over slavery,” “some slaves had it pretty good,” “the holocaust never happened,” or the January 6 insurrectionists were “ordinary tourists.” And we also need to take note how the cross on which Jesus was crucified by an always unholy marriage of religion and state has been made into an adored ornament, and how the cause of Jesus’ death is most often attributed to God’s love instead of the rejection of God’s love by sinful humanity.

There are forces in our world today that want us to forget our sinful history, because they know in the words of George Orwell, that “the most effective way to destroy people is to deny and obliterate their own understanding of their history.” But it is in remembering and studying the truth of our history, no matter how bad that truth hurts, even if it stings like fiery venom in our veins, that we become better, more loving, more gracious, more just, more like the D\disciples we are called to be.

There’s a reason that the Civil Rights movement was emboldened after Mamie Till, the mother of Emmett Till, forced us to look at the snake by declining an offer from the mortician to “touch up” her son’s body and opting for an open casket funeral, saying: “I think everybody needed to know what had happened to Emmett Till.”

Perhaps she knew that when we look intently at the snake, an outbreak of the Kingdom God can happen.

And as people who understand that it was our sins that put Jesus on the cross, we should always do everything we can to help others look at the snakes in our midst today: the bodies of school children riddled with bullets from a mass shooter; the bloodied face of a gay child beat by bullies in a middle school restroom; the malnourished, starved corpses of Palestinian children victimized by a war that needs to end. Because when we look intently at the snake, we find the courage to say: “enough is enough is enough already!”

In planning the annual Yom Ha Shoah Holocaust Remembrance service this week with Rabbi Harley and other clergy, we read together the following words written by Rev. Terry Dickinson which underscore our necessity to remember, to never forget, to always look intently at the snake, because if we are honest, we would rather look the other way and pretend it never happened:

I’d rather pretend it never happened.
I’d rather believe that the sky was never blackened by the smoke of human death, that children and mothers and innocent men
were never victims of such a magnitude of hate.

I’d rather pretend it never happened, but if I have to remember,
if I must look into this gaping scar of human ignorance,
I want to believe that it could only happen once in the history of this universe. Yet, history has a terrible way of echoing in the stone-hard canyons of bigotry, repeating itself again and again.

I’d rather pretend it never happened, for in remembering,
the world seems a frightening place,
where we cannot celebrate, but would rather exterminate our differences and merge into one large mass of sameness.

I’d rather pretend it never happened and believe that it could never happen again. Yet, I know that as long as I look upon even one other person
with seeds of hate, and fail to see him as my brother,
or her as my sister, or them as my family,

then my own precious soul is fertile ground
for these seeds to sprout yet another Holocaust.[i]

Let us look intently at the snake. Look at him, lifted up, crucified. Listen to his words of mercy, love and grace. For if we can keep our eyes on the snake upon the pole, one day, love will finally win, the kingdom will finally come, and the only place on earth we will be frightened is in the deep recesses of our darkest nightmares.

[i] By Rev. Terry Dickinson (1997, Christway Unity Church, Hot Springs, AR)

Righteous Rage

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Lent, Sermons Year BLeave a comment
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John 2:13-22 NRSV

Psychologists have identified four stages of anger.[i] The first stage is when we are “annoyed.” Studies have shown that most people become annoyed a few times per day when someone or some situation becomes bothersome or irritating to us.

I am sure Jesus was annoyed as often as we are, if not more often. I believe we can read one example in Mark, chapter 2, when Jesus enters the synagogue on a sabbath and encounters a man with a withered hand. Although the Pharisees believed it was unlawful to heal on the sabbath, Jesus compassionately heals the man and then looks at the Pharisees “with anger” says Mark; for he was “grieved,” or I believe one could say, “he was very annoyed,” by their “hardness of heart.”

When we are annoyed and feel our stress levels begin to rise, we’ve moved into the second stage of anger: “frustration.” In this stage, we’re still able to think rationally, but because of our dissatisfaction with what’s happening, it might not be as easy to stay calm and clearheaded.

 A few weeks ago, we read an account of Jesus being frustrated when he encounters a leper, and according to Mark, is “moved with pity.” I pointed out that scholars agree that the Greek text is best translated, “moved with anger,” and I said it was not so much the disease of leprosy that angered or frustrated Jesus, but it was what the disease did to a person socially, excluding them from community.

The third stage of anger is “hostility.” We get to this stage when there’s been a large build-up of stress, pain, or anxiety. Things become so frustrating, we find it difficult to stay calm or to speak politely.  Have you ever heard the saying: “That’s enough to make a preacher cuss?” I could tell you some stories, but this is not the time nor the place. Maybe down in the fellowship hall Wednesday night, or better yet, downtown at the brewery Thursday evening. An example of Jesus becoming hostile may be last week’s gospel lesson when Jesus, calls Peter “Satan.”

Then we have the fourth stage: rage. This is the stage where we lose control. We lash out physically, like throwing an object, like silver coins, or turning over a piece of furniture, like a table in the temple, or we may threaten violence, like making a whip of cords and chasing everyone out of the room, even the sheep and the cattle.

 I don’t believe there’s better example of Jesus demonstrating rage than this temple scene in today’s gospel lesson. And a good question for those of us who are seeking to emulate Jesus is: What moved Jesus from simply being annoyed to a fit of rage?

To interpret this text, it is important to note why this is our lectionary text in the season of Lent. Our text begins: “The Passover of the Jews was near.” To commemorate the story of the Israelites’ protection from the Angel of Death and their Exodus from Egyptian slavery, Jewish people were coming from all over to purchase animals in the temple to make religious sacrifices to God so they could get right with God, experience some love and favor from God. To get right with God, people with means had enough money to purchase cattle or sheep, whereas people who were poor scaped up the little money they had and settled for the doves.

That the religious leaders were making a profit by leading people to believe they could not experience Divine favor unless certain conditions were met, enraged Jesus so that he made a whip and chased them out of the temple, pouring out their coins and turning over their tables, while specifically instructing those who were selling doves to the poor, “Take these things out of here!”

The Jews, who are now unable to purchase sacrifices to observe Passover, become fearful that they would be unable to get right with God. So, they confront Jesus: “You better be able to come up with a pretty good sign to prove to us that we don’t need to make sacrifices to experience God’s love!”

And it is then that Jesus responds, “Destroy this temple, and in three days, I will raise it up.” John tells us that Jesus was speaking not of the building in which they stood, but the temple of his own body.

I believe John is emphasizing that in the incarnation of Jesus, the good news of God’s unconditional love is enfleshed or embodied. In the words of Revelation 21, “God’s dwelling place is now among the people” with Jesus modeling the way.

This should not lead anyone to believe that the presence of God has departed from the Jewish faith or that Christianity supersedes any other religious tradition. Rather, from a Christian perspective, the good news that every person is loved by God just as they are, is enfleshed in anyone who follows the way of love that Jesus embodied.

Mahatma Gandhi was annoyed and frustrated when he famously said:

I like your Christ, but I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ.

This, of course, is the main problem of the church today. While there are many faith communities loving others selflessly and unconditionally, too many Christians have succumbed to their thirst for power and control.

Today, this is demonstrated whenever the church seems more concerned about the survival of the institution than the needs of people; whenever service in the community is performed in hope of gaining new members, rather than out of compassionate concern for neighbors in need; and whenever gatekeepers are appointed to determine who belongs in the family of God and the hoops through one must jump to be in community.

Instead of embodying the good news of God’s love for all people through acts of grace and mercy, the church today looks more like a set of rules designed by the powerful and the privileged to keep people in line and the marginalized in their place.

Christianity looks like a religion based more on nationalism than on following the way of love that Jesus modeled. It looks like a religion built on guilt, obligation, and fear, a religion whose purpose is to keep people out of an eternal hell while ignoring the hell humanity has created in God’s good creation.[ii]

A religion. This is what really enraged Jesus, that people took something as pure and wonderful and holy as the unconditional love of God and made it into a religion.

While I was pastoring a church right out of seminary back in 1993, a deacon in our church asked me where I saw myself in twenty-five years. I told him that I believed that I would still be pastoring a church somewhere.

He laughed out loud.

“What’s so funny?”   I asked.

“I see you more as the type who might be teaching in some college somewhere or directing a non-profit. I don’t think you are going to be a pastor.”

“Why do you say that?”

He said, “For one thing, pastors are generally religious people. And you, my friend, are not very religious!”

What this deacon failed to realize was that the church is not a religious organization. And the last thing a Christian pastor should be is religious.

Let me share with you what I think is a good definition of religion.  It comes from the late Episcopal Priest Robert Capon: “Religion is the attempt by human beings to establish a right relationship between themselves and something beyond themselves which they think to be of life-giving significance.”

This is what enraged Jesus so, that people have been made to feel that they must be religious, jump through some religious hoops, to get right with God. They believe if they make the right sacrifice, say the right prayers, believe in the right creed, behave the right way, avoid the right sins, then they can earn some Divine favor.

This is why we call the unconditional love of God Jesus taught and embodied “the gospel.” This is why we call it good news. If we called it religion, it would be bad news. Religion would mean that there was still some secret to be unlocked, some ritual to be gotten right, some law to obey, some theology to grasp, or some little sin to be purged.

Now, don’t get me wrong. We don’t need religion, but I believe we still need church. However, we do not need church to get right with God. We need church to discover ways we can get right with our neighbor. We need church to discover ways we can get right with the planet. Because what this world needs more than anything else today is not more religious people who believe they possess the keys to salvation, but more people to come together to love their neighbors, their communities, their cities, the entire creation, with the unconditional, unreserved, unbounded love of God that Jesus embodied.

Or maybe, in the words of Ziggy Marley, we need more people who simply make love their religion. Not for the sake of getting right with God, but for the sake of love and only love.

Because when love, just love, is our religion, we are free to volunteer at Park View Mission and truly love our neighbors purely, unconditionally, authentically, without any thought of persuading them to worship or believe like us.

When love is our religion, we are free to serve selflessly and sacrificially in our community without any temptation to ever say anything like: “Look at us. Look how good we are. Don’t you want to join our church?”

When love is our religion, we are free to purchase learning kits to help children living in poverty prepare for kindergarten with no strings attached, with no hidden agenda whatsoever, just love.

When love is our religion, we are free to pray earnestly for Palestinians in Gaza, give to organizations like Week of Compassion to support humanitarian aid for those who are suffering with no other intention but to love our neighbors as we love ourselves.

When love is our religion (just love, for the sake of love), when we love freely, unconditionally, unreservedly, fully, and purely, I believe we look like the enfleshed presence of God in the world.

And that, I believe, is what makes Jesus very happy.

And that, I believe, is what makes Jesus very happy.

[i] https://reallifecounseling.us/blog/stages-of-anger

[ii] https://www.ucc.org/sermon-seeds/sermon-seeds-transactionalism/