Not Quite What You'd Think

Sermon on Mark 11:1-11, 14:1-11, and Philippians 2:5-11 (preached at Mosaic Austin 4.01.12)

Growing up, I had many ideas about what life would be like after college. Like many of you, my formative years were dotted by the release of several Michael J. Fox movies. In films like Bright Lights, Big City and For Love or Money, we saw him live out every young professional’s dreams, complete with the slick suits, thin ties, and baguette-sized cell phones. And although I didn’t necessary want those things, I kind of saw them as my unavoidable, eventual destiny.  

But like many of my generation, the world I entered after college was vastly different from that which I had anticipated. After graduation, I waged an 8 month campaign tirelessly researching job possibilities, writing cover letters, tailoring resumes, only to finally settle for a position at a call center, where my only solace became the fact that “at least I didn’t have to make outbound calls!” And I say all this recognizing that I was one of the lucky ones… I actually got to go to college!

These past few years, we’ve seen lots of stories in the news about how, for the first time in U.S. history, the economic outlook for rising generations won’t be as bright as that of their parents. At the same time, many who thought their retirement was near have suddenly found their nest eggs swallowed up. This past fall, we witnessed the fallout from these trends in the several Occupy movements around the country. To say that there has been a prevailing sense of discontent and dissolutionment, feels understated. But whether you’ve been touched by these forces or not, we all know the sting of watching expectations linger unfulfilled.

In tonight’s Gospel, we encounter many who felt a similar disappointment. Today, in the Church calendar, we celebrate both Palm Sunday and Passion Sunday—both Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem and the dramatic happenings of Christ’s passion…. Together they act as a hinge, or bridge, moving us from Lent into Holy Week. As the narrative unfolds, we see many who struggle to see past their own ideals and expectations for who Jesus is.  

First, we find this in Jesus’ grand procession through the city gates. Undoubtedly, the crowds who gathered there had heard of Jesus’ many great deeds – of how he healed people, cast out demons, and even raised some from the dead! Maybe they’d even heard of his affinity for common people—of how he regularly dined with the poor and others lowly status. In Jesus, they saw a potential way out… someone who could save them from their Roman captors. Remember, Rome had swept through this entire region, enslaving all. It did so, by brutal means, costing many their lives and leaving those remaining too scared to resist. So, we can understand the crowd’s excitement about this possible hero—a Messiah to come and free them.

But instead, rather than riding in on the white war horse they’d expected, blazing in boldly to rally those willing to join in on this long-awaited coup, in trods Jesus riding a wobbly, practically quivering donkey—a beast of the field, a piece of farm equipment. Their warrior-king had arrived, but instead of brandishing a polished sword, he beseeches them to love their enemies, to turn the other cheek, and to carry the packs of their Roman captors an extra mile… And so, one by one, not hearing what they’d anticipated, the crowd’s enthusiasm deteriorates into murmurs saying, “Crucify him.”

by William Kurelek

Again, we see this pattern play out with the Pharisees and scribes. Blind to the truth and identity of Jesus, they interpret his teachings as a threat to their way of life—and rightly so, we might argue! “Let no man call you father,” and “Beware the scribes, who walk around in long robes and like to be greeted with respect.” That sounds like pretty inflammatory rhetoric! But rather than hearing Jesus’ words as an invitation into a whole new way of leading God’s people, they take offense… and they end up missing what could have been a powerfully redemptive moment… They heard the crowd calling Jesus the Messiah, but THEY had fancy theological educations and thought they knew better. This man wasn’t the Messiah, just a no-good rabble-rouser.

We see this also in those closest to Jesus. Earlier, we heard how upset Jesus’ followers got when the woman with the alabaster jar anoints Jesus. What you may not have caught was that this entire scene unfolds in the home of Simon the Leper. A leper! Here they are, in the very home of someone who undoubtedly lived in poverty because of his illness… and this happens! 

A few years ago, while in India, I actually got to visit a leper colony and see how people with this disease live. As you can imagine, because of their often disfigured bodies and to protect others from catching it, people with leprosy find themselves pushed to the margins. They’re forced to live in isolation; away from their family and friends, without work or any of the amenities they once knew.

So here they are, in this Leper’s home, and in comes this woman who anoints Jesus with oil we are told was very valuable. She does so right in the presence of someone who may well have been destitute. I don’t know about you, but I can kind of see why this would be upsetting. One of them objected saying, “We could have sold that oil and given the money to the poor.” Tradition teaches this was the voice of Judas… the one who later betrays Jesus. Today, as we celebrate Christ’s passion, each of us is asked to examine our own complicity in Jesus’ crucifixion… and, I, for one, am troubled by my own identification with Judas’ outburst. His plea seems reasonable…..

Perhaps this is where you and I begin to find ourselves amongst the crowds gathered at Jerusalem’s gates. Maybe we have all begun to sense the logic in the protests of the Temple officials.

During that period, after college, I began to learn that people don’t always grow up to inherit the lives they feel they’ve been promised. Life can be unfair… tragic even. People get sick or die far too young. Some of us crack under pressure and wind up on the streets. Nation states prioritize their own existence over that of their people, going to war all too easily to protect lines on a map rather than the people who live within those lines. Like the people under Roman rule in the first century, we too suffer. We too want to be saved. And like them, we have our own ideas about what that should look like.   

But, if, as our Gospel teaches, Jesus is one-and-the-same with God the Father, then whenever our agendas fail to align with His, we must ask why… But that’s not easy... And I think it’s here that a lot of us get confused and give up. It’s much easier to hold onto our past conceptualizations of God and who God is, than to allow that vision to be transformed…

Stretching in this way can feel precarious, but we must remember that ours is the God who called Abraham, by faith, to leave his village, his community, and everything he’d ever known, to seek a new land… But that’s not the comfortable choice. It’s easier to continue seeing God through our own lens… to paint Him as a Republican or a Democrat. We try and tune out contradictions, rather than pulling together as Christ’s body and putting our trust in Him. So, like the crowds who petitioned Pilate for Jesus’ execution, we try and conform Jesus to our will. Somehow, each of us instinctively channels the oldest form of chant we inherit from our Christian tradition—that of calling for Jesus’ crucifixion. “Crucify him… crucify him.”

Jesus surprised those in the house of Simon the Leper that day. He permitted the unnamed women to anoint him, and what they saw as a terrible misuse of resources, Jesus saw as the powerful testimony of someone who was actually paying attention… For this woman, to anoint Jesus precisely as he sits at the table of a leper, demonstrates her recognition Christ’s true nature... She knew better than to wait for him to reach for political or militaristic power. She saw his willingness to sit as equals with the powerless, thus lifting them up and enacting a new kind of justice. 

I wonder if we can see past our preconceived notions well enough to follow Christ? How do the stories of his life call us to live differently? I think these are questions Paul is responding to in the epistle we read earlier as a call to worship. He proclaims Christ to be the one who is weak, made strong. The one who humbled himself, taking on our frailty, whom God glorifies. Paul speaks of Jesus’ life, work, and mission as an emptying of himself, becoming obedient even to the point of death on a cross. In these self-giving acts, Paul says, Jesus’ full identity as the Messiah, our anointed savior, is made known! But how do we, as imitators of and participants in Christ live into this? Surely, it’s a lifelong process… one we cannot endeavor alone. Just before the text we read earlier Paul gives his hearers these instructions as a starting point:

“Be of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind. Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves. Let each of you look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others.”                       

Prayer: 

Almighty God, to know you is life, and to serve you is perfect freedom. Give us the will and grace necessary to lay aside our ways… for yours. In the name of your Son, our Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.