Tag: Lazarus

Anointing a Movement

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Lent, Sermons Year CLeave a comment

John 12:1-8 NRSV

Palm Sunday is just a week away, and you know what that means. Well, at least according to the Revised Common Lectionary, it’s time to gather around the table with Jesus for an unforgettable dinner party where so much more is happening around, and under the table, than we can imagine.

In fact, there must be more happening around this table, or this whacky supper scene would be like some bizarre, meaningless dream, like the kind we have when we’re sick with a fever.

It’s a scene that begs us to take a deep dive, asking some serious questions.

Because, seated at the head of the table is none other than Lazarus, who just a few weeks ago was dead and buried. And this is no Weekend at Bernie’s situation! Lazarus is alive and kicking, because a few days ago, Jesus stood at his grave, called him by name, and raised him from the dead.

What on earth can this mean? That Jesus is at the table with Lazarus, who was dead and buried but is now asking someone to please pass the gravy!

We are told that Lazarus’ sister Martha is serving. Sounds like Martha. Always busy in the kitchen. His sister Mary’s also there. But she’s in the dining room with Jesus. Something else that makes sense, as we might remember Jesus’ visit with Mary and Martha as told by Luke.

But it’s what Mary does next that completely floors us! As Mary literally gets in the floor! The scene under the table is almost as insane as the living and breathing presence of Lazarus at the table! She’s down there anointing Jesus’ feet with a pound of very expensive perfume. Think about that! A pound of perfume! Of course, the fragrance fills the entire house.

Then, we have another surprise. Judas, the disciple whom John says is about to betray Jesus, is also at the table. Jesus is at the table with both friend and foe, ally and adversary. And just as we start to ponder the meaning such an inclusive, open table, Judas shocks us by asking a question that we can easily imagine Jesus asking, “Why wasn’t this perfume sold and the money given to the poor?”

But just when we think that we have seen and heard everything, we are floored again by Jesus’ response: “The poor you will always have with you. You will not always have me.”

Oh, Jesus. I sure wished you hadn’t said that.

 Because Jesus, although it sounds absurd, because it is absurd, Christians will use that one sentence to justify ignoring over 2,000 verses in the Bible calling for economic justice and a civic responsibility to care for the poor, marginalized, and oppressed. Jesus, I know this sounds ridiculous, because it is ridiculous, Christians will make their faith solely about worshipping at your feet, praising you, instead of following you. In fact, they will worship you while embracing a way of life, that is the exact opposite of following you.

They will stand behind and support the Herods of this world who defund programs that serve the poor. They will bless authoritarians who cut humanitarian aid, leaving food intended to feed the hungry to rot in ports and warehouses. They will support tyrants who suspend refugee resettlement programs, who target and remove from the country certain ethnic groups without any due process or legal counsel. They will support executive orders criminalizing migrants, dismantling public education, that take away healthcare, eliminate food assistance and public health services, remove environmental protections, and deny science. And in the place of fair, progressive taxes, they will bless rulers who institute tariffs, causing the cost of goods and services to skyrocket, hitting the poorest amongst us the hardest—all to enrich the already ultra-rich.

And preachers, who claim Christian, will gather on Sunday morning, stand in pulpits, and not say one word about it. They will shrug their shoulders, and using your name, say something like: “Poverty? Well, there’s really nothing we can do about that. Like Jesus said, we’ll always have the poor among us.

So, Jesus, I really wished you hadn’t said that.

But you are Jesus. So, you must have a had a pretty good reason for saying it.

Hmm. Let’s think about this… You said it the context of this whacky dinner party where there is so much more going than we know.

Lazarus was dead and buried, but he’s now sitting upright and taking nourishment! Mary is under the table anointing your feet with this expensive perfume that she purchased for your burial, to anoint your dead body. Hmmm.

In the home of one who had been brought back to life from the dead, instead of anointing your dead body, she is anointing your living body.”

Jesus, I think we are beginning to see a theme here.

At a table, belonging to Lazarus, who had been called out of death into life, Mary anoints not the death of Jesus, but the life of Jesus. Mary anoints the living Jesus, the living way of Jesus, the living movement of Jesus.

So, maybe in defending the anointing of Mary to Judas, Jesus wasn’t saying that we can’t do anything about poverty. Jesus was saying that doing something about poverty in this world is going to take more than selling some perfume and writing a check. Eradicating poverty is going to take more than charity. It’s going to take a living movement. It’s going to take embracing a way of life, a holy movement, that challenges the corrupt systems of injustice, that resists the Empire, and speaks truth to power.

This whacky dinner party is beginning to make sense to us now, as it seems to me that one of the problems with the church today is that too many Christians prefer the dead feet of Jesus over the living feet of Jesus.. Just ask them: “Who is Jesus to you?” They’ll respond: “The one who died for my sins.”

They prefer the dead feet of Jesus over the living feet of Jesus that takes steps to bring good news to the poor and to the marginalized, the feet that takes a stand to liberate the oppressed, the feet that stands at the bedside of the sick brining life to the dying, and feet that even stands outside a tomb bringing life to the dead.

Jesus didn’t die for anyone’s sin. Jesus died because of sin. Jesus died because the Empire preferred a dead Jesus about personal and private salvation over a living Jesus about political and societal transformation.

In anointing the living feet of Jesus, Mary was anointing a movement—a dynamic, public, political movement of feet standing for justice, a movement of feet marching for peace, a movement of feet making strides for acceptance, belonging, diversity, equity, and inclusion.

Mary was anointing a way of living, a movement that put legs and feet on thoughts and prayers, that walks the extra mile to bless the poor, filling the hungry with good things and sending the rich away empty.

At the dinner table of Lazarus who had been called out of death into life, Jesus is calling us out of death into life: “Do you want to do something that changes the world? Do you really want to do something about poverty? Then don’t embrace my dead body lying in a tomb. Embrace the life I am living, the way I am walking, the movement I am embodying. Walk the walk, take the steps, and make the stands I am making.”

Like he did while standing in front of the tomb of Lazarus, I believe Jesus is calling us out of death today. He is calling us by name, begging us to come out to become his living feet in this world.

I love the way the Apostle Paul states this truth in the fifth chapter of his letter to the Ephesians:

Wake up from your sleep!  Climb out of your coffins! Christ will show you the light!

So, watch your step. (C’mon Paul! He’s saying, “Watch how you march, where you stand.”)

Use your head. Make the most of every chance you get. (And listen to this next sentence) These are desperate times!

So, don’t live carelessly, unthinkingly  (I hear: “Please don’t willfully misinterpret Jesus to avoid your responsibility to the poor. ‘Cause more than two thousand verses of scripture can’t be wrong.”)

Then, Paul says: “Make sure you understand what the Master wants” (Ephesians 5:14-17 MSG).

And what does the Master want?

The Master wants a movement. The Master needs us to do more than support a charity. The Master wants a movement. The Master wants fearless feet that march against all the forces of death in the world— the forces of greed, selfishness, disease, and violence—marching in a movement to raise the entire creation back to life!

The Master wants compassionate feet that take a stand for mercy, empathetic feet that walk in the shoes of another.

The Master wants gracious feet that run to welcome a stranger

The Master wants quick feet that jump to defend someone being oppressed, strong, determined feet that never retreat, give in, or give out.

The Master wants tireless feet that can stand for over 25 hours on a senate floor to proclaim words of love and truth, liberty and justice, fairness and equality, kindness, and decency to a nation in crisis.

The Master wants courageous feet that can stand in the street for two hours in the bright springtime sun on a Saturday afternoon in front of city hall to call out greed, bigotry, and corruption.

The Master wants caring feet that can stand for an hour in a silent vigil to be a public, prophetic witness for justice, or for just three minutes to speak truth to power at a meeting of the city council.

Six days after this dinner at Lazarus’ house, Jesus is, once again, at a table with his disciples. It would be his final dinner before nails are driven into his feet, as well as his hands. After the dinner, Jesus gets up from the table, takes off his robe, and ties a towel around himself. He then pours water into a basin and begins washing the feet of the disciples, wiping them with the towel around him.

Now, many will say that he was just teaching his disciples how to be a servant. But those of us who just have read the previous chapter… we have this idea that he is teaching us something more. Jesus was anointing a movement. Because Jesus knows that eradicating poverty and the problems of this world is going to take more than volunteering to serve in a soup kitchen. It’s going to take a movement—an anointed, living, dynamic, breathing, alive and kicking, nonviolent, courageous, public, street-taking, truth-telling, peace-making, mercy-seeking, justice-doing, forward-marching, love-infused, prophet-inspired, Spirit-empowered, Jesus-led movement.

Are we ready to be the feet in such a movement? The times are indeed desperate, so I pray we are.  Amen.

Loosening the Bonds of Death

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Lent, Sermons Year ALeave a comment

Lazarus

John 11:32-44 NRSV

John 11 is a great example of why I love the Bible. I love the Bible because the Bible is honest. The Bible is real. The Bible does not hide, cover up or try to sugarcoat the difficulties and even tragedy of life in this fragmented world.

I love that, because this world in which we live is sometimes incredibly painful. We live in a world surrounded by poverty and economic pain. We live in a world where the rich take care of themselves while taking advantage of the poor.

We live in a world where so-called “Christians” in the church are some of the meanest and most evil bullies we know. We live in a world where our loved ones suffer with all sorts of dreadful diseases. And we live in a world where we are continually reminded our own mortality.

Thus, I love John 11, for here in this very honest chapter, there is no denying the harsh reality of this fragmented existence we call life, especially in dealing with the most tragic aspect of this life: the death of a loved one.

Too many Christians, for many reasons would rather treat the tragedy of death as if it does not exist. We don’t want to talk about it.  And when we do, we try to deny the harshness, the sheer austerity of it. We do not even like to call it “death.” We would rather call it “passing away.”

We say things like: “there are worse things in this world than death;” however, in death there still exists an inescapable starkness that cannot be denied or ignored. When we are honest, we would admit that death is the most difficult thing about life. Losing someone we loved is the worst of all human experiences. We try to comfort ourselves by saying things like, “at least our loved one is no longer suffering.”  “At least she is now finally at peace.”  But if we are honest, just a second later, we find ourselves questioning why she had to get cancer and suffer in the first place. Why did they have to die as young as they did?

And we like to comfort ourselves by saying that he or she is in a far better place. But then a second later, we question why he or she would not be better here with us, at home, surrounded by family and love.

Yes, in John 11, there is no refuting the stark reality of death. Notice that Martha is absolutely horrified when Jesus commands the stone to be rolled back from the tomb. Her horror reminds us of something that we would rather ignore: the body was beginning to decay. The very sound of the words of verse 39 “Lord, already there is a stench, because he has been dead for four days” seems inappropriate to read from the pulpit. Dressed in our Sunday best on a beautiful spring morning, we don’t want to hear that!

But this is reality. This is truth.  And sometimes we simply do not want to hear the truth.

And sometimes we just think it is our Christian duty to be an example to the world, to the weak, to the unfaithful, how to be strong, how to put on a brave face and hold back the tears.

But notice in John 11 that there is no holding back.

Mary, the brother of Lazarus, weeps. The mourners who had gathered at the cemetery that day weep. Even Jesus himself weeps. The harsh reality of death and grief is evident everywhere.

We are told twice that Jesus “was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved.” Is there really a difference there? That is like saying that Jesus was grieving and mourning.

Just looking at the tomb of Lazarus caused Jesus to burst into tears.  Even Jesus, who we believe is manifestation, the very embodiment of God, the creator of all that is, who became flesh to dwell among us, does not remain calm and serene as one unmoved and detached from the fragmented human scene. Jesus himself is deeply disturbed at death’s devastating force. There is no denying it or escaping it or muting it. Neither is there any dressing it up with euphemisms like “passing away” or “gone on to be with the Lord.”

John 11 also points out why Jesus grieved. In verse 36 we read: “So the Jews said, ‘See how he loved him.’”

It has often been said that the only way to miss pain in life is to miss love in life. Garth Brooks sings a song entitled “The Dance.” One line of the song goes: “I could have missed the pain, but I would have had to miss the dance.” Grieving only means that we have loved as our God has created us to love. The only way to never grieve is to never love. But to never love is to never truly live. As the song goes, the only way to miss the pain of loss is to miss the whole dance of life.

So, I believe John 11 gives each of us permission this morning to grieve. May we grieve long and deeply. May we never dare to run away from it.  May we never treat it as it was some stranger that we could send away, or deny that grief, because someone who doesn’t know any better thinks grieving means our faith is weak. Let us grieve what is lost. Grieve honestly, lovingly and patiently. Let us grieve until our cups are emptied.

However, (and here is the good news for all of us this day) as the Apostle Paul reminds us in his letter to the Thessalonians that those of us who call ourselves Christians should not grieve as others do who have no hope.  As Christians, our grief is real, but our grief is different. Our grief is not despairing, because as Christians, we possess hope because Jesus, who himself was not immune to grief and even death, always brings resurrection and new life.

Those of us who are not immune to grief and death need to again to hear Jesus’ prayer which came in a loud voice.  “Lazarus, come out.”

I heard a preacher once ask his congregation, “You do know why Jesus said, ‘Lazarus, come out’ and not simply ‘come out’ don’t you?  Because if he did not call Lazarus by name, if he did not say specifically, “Lazarus, come out, then every tomb in Jerusalem would have opened up that day!

We need to hear this voice and see this very real and foul, decaying corpse walking out of the grave, still wrapped in burial cloths, coming, at the voice of Jesus, to life.

And then I believe we need to hear again, and hear again loudly Jesus’ words: “Unbind him, and let him go.”  “Unbind him, and let him go.”  Lazarus is loosed from the bonds of death. He is freed from the shackles of his past. He is let go into a brand new future, liberated and set free.

Then, I believe we need hear John and Jesus himself tell us over and over that this event reveals the glory of our God. What we have in this story is much more than the resuscitation of one dead corpse by one man.

Always for John, miracles are much more. Miracles are always signs that point us to something greater. Thus this miracle is the revelation that the God in whom we serve and trust and love, this God who is not unmoved and detached from the human scene, is always a death-overcoming and life-giving God.

The good news that we need to hear is that this God is still working in our world today unbinding, letting go, loosing, freeing. God is here enabling us to confront death and grief, us to acknowledge it, to look it straight in the eyes, to see all of its harshness and starkness, and then be liberated from it.

And if God is here liberating us from the shackles of death, then there is nothing else in all of creation from which God cannot set us free.

From evil bullies bent on crushing our spirits.

A job that is draining the very life from us.

A relationship that is killing us.

Fears that paralyze us.

Disease that is destroying us.

Economic hardships that never seem to end.

Depression that never lets go.

One of the great things about being a pastor is how I have the awesome privilege to witness this good news all of the time.

Someone loses their job. They come to me believing it is the end of the world. But a year later, working a new job, they share with me that losing that job was the very best thing that could have happen to them.

Someone else comes to me and says that their marriage has fallen apart. And that they are partly to blame. They said they thought life as they knew it was over. But a few months later, they tell me that they are beginning realize that although they cannot go back to the good old days, they have plenty of good new days ahead.

Someone comes to me sharing their deepest fear: the fear of being known for who they really are; the fear of rejection and ridicule. Then I see them a short time later, and they tell me how they have been surprised by unconditional love and unreserved acceptance.

People call me to share their doctor’s grim diagnosis. They say that they had just received a death sentence. But a short time later, I visit with them, and they tell me that they are beginning to understand that being alive and whole have very little to do with physical well-being.

And then I have visited with countless people as they are facing what is certainly their final hours on earth, and I hear in their voices, and I see in their eyes a faithful awareness that there is nothing at all “final” about them.

Thus, like Lazarus, in this incomplete and fragmented world where death, divorce, disease and hate entomb us, we can be loosed. We can be freed, and we can be unbound.

We can come out and let go and celebrate the good news together: where there is incompleteness and brokenness, there can be wholeness. Where there is tyranny of the mind, there can be freedom of the heart. Where there is an imprisonment of the soul, there can be a liberation of the spirit. Where there is grief and despair there is hope. And where there is death and even decay, there is always life.

Let us pray together…

O God of New Life, may we be a church that shares this good news with all people, honestly and truthfully and faithfully. May we weep with those who mourn. May we be deeply moved with those who are afraid. And may we be deeply disturbed in our spirit with all who are suffering. Stay beside them. Befriend them. Accept them. Love them…until they are whole, liberated and fully alive now and forever through Christ our Lord. Amen.

We’re Able, but Are We Willing?

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Sermons Year C2 Comments

bridges not wallsLuke 16:19-31 NRSV

This morning, Jesus is telling another story to teach us something about the nature of God—who God is, how God acts, and what God desires. And as I said last week, we usually find that something in that part of the story that takes us by surprise, shocks us.

It is not difficult to find that moment in this morning’s lesson. But to fully grasp it we need to know a little background about original audience.[i] The Pharisees were notorious for believing and teaching some very bad theology. It is what we call “TV evangelist theology,” “the prosperity gospel” or the “health and wealth gospel.”  It means that we can find favor with God, and if we do, whether it is by living a pure and holy life or by giving generously to God “through a seed offering to the name and address displayed on your television,” then God will bless you with health and wealth. In fact, if you give regularly to their ministry, not only can you expect to receive an autographed copy of their new book, but you can expect to get unexpected checks in the mail! You will not only feel good that you are supporting a great ministry, but you may also be healed your disease or disability.

So here’s the thinking:

Have a lot of money, a great stock-portfolio, growing investments? Blessed. Living from one social security check to the next? Not blessed.

Have plenty of food, nice clothes and a nice car? Blessed. On food stamps, wear worn, old-fashioned clothes, drive a broken down heap? Not so much.

Have great healthcare, low co-pay and deductible? Access to great doctors? Blessed. No insurance, can’t remember your last check-up? Not so blessed.

Nice home? Blessed. Live in the projects? Not blessed.

Healthy and fit, training to run a 5k? Blessed. Sick, in a wheel-chair, homebound? Unblessed.

The sick and the poor, well, they’re just not living right. They make poor decisions in life. I hate to say it, but a lot of them deserve their plight.

The healthy and wealthy, well, evidently they have been living right. They make good and wise decisions, and because of that, they have caught the eye of God and found some divine favor. The poor? The sick? Well, they’ve caught the eye of God too!

And because of that belief, the Pharisees kept the poor and sick at a distance, outside of their circle of friends. They did everything they could do to keep a large gap between them. They were never invited into their homes and they cringed each time one would stumble into the synagogue.

So Jesus tells a story. There was a rich man from a big family who was well-dressed, well-fed and well-off, and of course lived in an exclusive gated community. And right outside of that gate, was this poor, hungry and sick man named Lazarus.

Lazarus would look through the gate and dream of being able to eat just the left-over scraps from the rich man. The only attention and care he received were from the neighborhood dogs that came and licked his wounds. How unblessed is that?

Well, one day, both men died. After all that’s what all men do, don’t they?  All of the money, good fortune in the world can not prevent it. So, no surprise there.

But hold on, because here it comes. The poor man, the man who was seemingly blessed not so much in life, is carried away by the angels to be with Father Abraham.

And, by this time, you know it is really coming. You can almost feel it! If the church pews had seatbelts, I’d be hearing a lot of clicks about now.

The rich man who had a stellar reputation in the community, the one who was seemingly very blessed in life, the one who always bragged to his friends down at the synagogue how good God had been to him, found himself being tormented in Hades.

C’mon Jesus, really?!? Really?

Really! He looks up and sees Abraham with Lazarus at his side and cries out, “Father Abraham, it’s hot as Hades down here! Please send Lazarus to visit me with just a drop of water!”

Abraham responds, “It’s too late. You are no longer able to be comforted. Besides, there is now this chasm, this gate, this wall separating you from us and us from you. And it has been fixed.

Now, isn’t that ironic? In life, the rich man who separated himself, who kept his distance, segregated and protected himself from the likes of people like Lazarus, is now eternally separated from him. And he is unable to do anything about it.

“Ok,” he says, “If I am unable, my five brothers who are still living are very able! Please send Lazarus to warn them so that they will not join me in this God forsaken place!”

Abraham responds: “They’ve already been warned in the scriptures.”

“But, Abraham, look, uh, I know my brothers, and I am afraid that they are not really into Bible Study, but if someone rises from the grave, then they might listen.”

“No,” says Abraham, “If they are not willing to listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced, even if someone rises from the dead.”

Oh – my – word! Jesus is not just speaking to the Pharisees here, is he? Jesus is speaking to crowds of people gathered almost two-thousand years later on Sunday mornings at 11am who proclaim to know someone who has indeed rose from the dead.

It is too late for the rich man. He is no longer able to change—change his theology, change his heart, change his view of his neighbors living on the other side of the tracks. He is no longer able to tear down the wall and begin building bridges. And although his five brothers are able to change, we learn the sad and the scary truth that they are simply not willing to change.

And here we are, as able as those brothers. The truth is, we are more than able. For not only do we have Moses and the Prophets, we also have Matthew, Mark, Luke, John and Paul and the risen Christ himself. So, the scary question is: are we willing? Are we willing to change our theology, our hearts and our actions? Are we willing to tear down the walls and build some bridges?

Yes, we hear bad theology all of the time from the TV preachers, but we also hear it right here in the local church. And sometimes it comes out of our very own mouths.

When someone compliments us by telling us what a nice home we live in, or what a nice car we drive, or what a beautiful family we have, or how good we look for our age, we respond how we think all good Christians who go to church every Sunday should respond, “Well, the Lord has really been good to me.” “The Lord has really blessed me.”  And we even believe responding in such a manner might coax God into blessing us some more!

Through the story of the Rich Man and Lazarus, Jesus says that our wealth and our health and our nice teeth are not signs that we are God’s favorites. In fact, those things may be some of the bricks in the wall that separates us from those who are poor, sick and have never seen a dentist. And according to Jesus, if we do not do something about it, that wall, that chasm, will eternally separate us from God.

When someone who is doing the best they can to make ends meet, who is struggling to put food on the table and keep the lights on, hears someone who has it all proclaim, “Yes, the Lord sure has been good to me! The Lord has really blessed me!” what are they to think?  What else can they think except: “Obviously, for some reason or another, I am not one of God’s favorites.”

So, should those of us with good jobs, nice homes and a clean bill of health thank God for what we have? Absolutely! But should we interpret our nice things as a sign that God has looked down on us favorably, given us a nod and a wink—a pat on the back? Jesus says, absolutely not!

One week before Hurricane Katrina paralyzed the Gulf Coast, a young mother went into labor about 10 days before her due date. Although she needed a C-section, she delivered a healthy boy in a New Orleans hospital. She later interpreted having the baby 10 days early as a sign of God’s divine favor. She said, “God knew that if the baby was born on the due date, we would not be able to get to a hospital. So, God made the baby come early.”

There’s no doubt she should thank God the baby came early; however, Jesus says she needs to be very careful how she interprets and shares her story because, without knowing it, she may be building a wall or a chasm between her and someone else. For example, what is the New Orleans father to think whose baby did not come early, whose wife was unable to go to the hospital because of the flood, and because of that, lost not only his baby, but his wife too?  Did God favor one family over the other?

Jesus said, absolutely not! And if you think that because of your good fortune in life you are blessed, one day you might find yourself asking someone who was less fortunate than you in life for a sip of water!

Jesus also put it this way: the sun shines on the good and the evil and the rain falls on the just and unjust alike (Matthew 5:45).

One day Luke says that Jesus cried out, “How often have I desired to gather everyone together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, but you were not willing!” (Luke 13:34).

The question for us this morning is this, “Are we willing to be gathered under the wings of grace[ii] and see all people, rich and poor as our brothers and our sisters. Are we willing to start building bridges or keep putting more bricks in the wall?”

The good news for us is, unlike the rich man in our story, it’s not too late. We are able, more than able. The question is, “Are we willing?”

[i]Cousar, Charles B.; Gaventa, Beverly R.; McCann, J. Clinton; and Newsome, James D., Texts for Preaching: A Lectionary Commentary Based on the NRSV–Year C (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 1994)

Craddock, Fred B., Luke, Interpretation. (Louisville:  John Knox Press, 1990)

Craddock, Fred B.; Hayes, John H.; Holliday, Carl R.; and Tucker, Gene M., Preaching Through the Christian Year, C (Valley Forge:  Trinity Press, 1994)

Culpepper, R. Alan, Luke, The New Interpreter’s Bible, Volume IX.  (Nashville:  Abingdon, 1995)