Sunday, April 26, 2009

Jesus Was the Talk of the Town

By The Very Rev. Sherry Crompton

April 26, 2009

Read: Luke 2:36b-48

Jesus was the talk of the town! Everyone wondered what the events in Jerusalem meant. What were they to make of the disaster of that Friday and the mystery of that Sunday? And now rumors abounded that Jesus was still alive.

The disciples and the others gathered in Jerusalem were immersed in chaos and confusion—fear, frustration, guilt, grief, doubt, anxiety, suspicion, distrust, restlessness, despondency and terror. Their leader was dead, and his wounded body missing. And, in the midst of their confusion, out of nowhere, Jesus himself appears!

Jesus shows up, providing words of comfort, assurance and chastisement. “Peace be with you” was followed by “why are you freaking out?”. As he had done so many times in Luke, Jesus asked what was for dinner! It was the same Jesus, yet different—once dead but now alive, caring yet still fussing. Jesus acted as if nothing had happened—he seemed normal, natural, just what they had come to expect.

Yet the appearance of Jesus after his cry of abandonment, the giving up of his spirit, and being laid in a tomb is anything but normal, natural, or expected. Earthly, human power had triumphed over him. The high priest, the scribes, the elders, the skeptics, and the curious had all condemned Jesus as a scoundrel and blasphemer—guilty as charged! The governor, the Roman soldiers, interested bystanders, and criminals had condemned Jesus as a traitor and a rebel—guilty as charged! Even God seemed to confirm the verdict, with no rescuing angels, no last-minute acquittal, no surprise witnesses to change the verdict—guilty as charged! According to the law of the day, Jesus got what he deserved. This should be the end of the story.

I’d like to share a poem entitled Dying from the Cold Within, the author is unknown:

Dying from the Cold Within
Six humans trapped by happenstance, in bleak and bitter cold.
Each one possessed a stick of wood. Or so the story's told.
Their dying fire in need of logs, The first woman held hers back,
For on the faces around the fire, She noticed one was black.
The next man looking cross the way, Saw one not of his church,
And couldn't bring himself to give, The fire his stick of birch.
The third one sat in tattered clothes, He gave his coat a hitch,
Why should his log be put to use, To warm the idle rich?
The rich man just sat back and thought, Of the wealth he had in store.
And how to keep what he had earned, From the lazy poor.
The black man's face bespoke revenge, As the fire passed from his sight,
For all he saw in his stick of wood, Was a chance to spite the white.
And the last man of this forlorn group, Did naught except for gain.

Giving only to those who gave, Was how he played the game.
The logs held tight in death's still hands, Was proof of human sin.
They didn't die from the cold without, They died from the cold within.
Is this the end of our story? Dying from the cold within? It wasn’t the end of Jesus’ story. We are surprised. The disciples and the others were surprised, startled and terrified. Just when we think the story is over, God has something to say. It’s not about us. It has always been about God and continues to be so. It has always been about God’s purposes, aims and agendas for creation—repentance that leads to forgiveness of sins and the wholeness of creation.

The risen Christ appears to groups and couples to assure them that he lives; to teach them to put their fear and doubts in the context of God’s grand plan; to open their understanding of the Scriptures; to commission them as witnesses of all that God has done and is doing in the world. The defense is sure—Christ is risen!

A Civil War story: Robert E. Lee once visited a woman in Kentucky after the hostilities ceased and found her mourning the remains of a grand old oak tree that had stood in her front yard for who knows how long. Its limbs and trunk had been destroyed by Union artillery fire. She waited for Lee to condemn the North or at least commiserate with her. But he did nothing of the kind. All he said to her was, “Cut it down, my dear madam, and forget it.”

There’s a wonderful story about a church custodian’s discovery one Monday morning when he went to clean the sanctuary. Instead of finding the usual fare - forgotten Bibles, umbrellas, bulletins covered with children’s drawings, and torn-up notes the teenagers had passed to each other instead of listening to the sermon - he found something very different indeed.

In a middle pew on the right side of the church lay a discouraged man’s anger towards God. On the back left pew sat a woman’s profound disappointment and fear over an uncertain future. Further down the pew lay a middle-aged father’s feelings of failure. Across the aisle the custodian found a young couple’s lukewarm commitment. On the front row he discovered an old man’s fear of death. In the corner, so small he could barely see it, lay a young person’s sins. On other pews he found jealousy, bitterness, pride, fear and doubt. The custodian was not sure what to with all this - but finally he swept it up - all those wounds, hurts, fears and sins - and threw them away.

Sisters and brothers, that story is your story and my story. Or if it isn’t, it can be. Dying from the cold within doesn’t have to be the end of the story. Because God has forgiven us and made us his friends and his family, and freed us and given us a new future, we can walk away from all that binds and shackles us. Just walk away.

Consider the signs of hope in our world, where we do share our logs and our sticks, where we choose life and keep the fire glowing. Patricia Quigley and Susan Retik, are two mothers who were widowed on 9/11. Patti was eight months pregnant with her second child when her husband Patrick was killed while traveling on United flight 175. Susan was seven months pregnant with her third child when her husband David was killed on American flight 11. Patti and Susan were profoundly moved by the support offered by friends, family and strangers from around the world. They were cared for financially and emotionally and today they remain deeply grateful to all who helped them.

And, grateful for the outpouring of support they received, they started thinking about the women in Afghanistan who, when widowed, lose status in that society and therefore find their already difficult lives even harder. They raised money and formed a foundation called Beyond the 11th to support Afghani widows, and even made visits to Afghanistan in 2006 to meet the widows they were helping. For them, these connections have helped to make sense of the world.

You see, Jesus is among us, in the midst of our fear, frustration, guilt, doubt, anxiety, suspicion, despair, restlessness, despondency and terror. He is not dead. He is real and says to each of us, “Peace be with you”. Do not be afraid. Let’s keep the fire glowing. Amen.

Sunday, April 12, 2009

The Lord is Risen

By The Very Rev. Sherry Crompton

Easter Sunday – April 12, 2009

Read: John 20:1-18

Our gospel story today begins with the words…. “early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb.”

Mark’s version is also on your insert, although we didn’t read it this morning. It begins “very early on the first day of the week, when the sun had risen."

While it was still dark and at early dawn. Early dawn. The Greek for early dawn can also be translated as deep dawn. I love that description...deep dawn. What is deep dawn? It is that indefinable time between darkness and light.

My friend Jim wonders if, while circling the earth in outer space, you can see an arched line that can only be described as earth’s deep dawn. There is such a thing as deep, deep dawn, but I think only the eyes of the heart can see it. Only the eyes of the mind can see it. And I doubt there’s an actual line. If you’ve ever watched the sun rise, you know there’s no actual line. And you also know the truth in the phrase, “it’s always darkest before the dawn”. And it’s true during the cold winter months, that the temperature drops to it’s lowest point just before the dawn. It is darkest just before the dawn.

It was the women who came to the tomb at deep dawn. All the gospel writers agree it was women, they disagree on the names and number, but they all agree it was women. In John’s gospel, which we read this morning, it was Mary. Mary wasn’t able to see clearly in the deep dawn. It was dark when she arrived. And Mary experienced a deep dawn moment.

Do you know what I mean by a deep dawn moment? Deep dawn, for example, is that moment just after you hang up the phone and you have to go to the police station to pick up your son or your daughter. At that moment, you believe there is hope for a new beginning, like Jesus taught; or you believe there is nothing but angry rebellion and angry retribution.

Deep dawn is that moment just after the doctor comes in and says it’s cancer….and then says these are the things he can do but makes no promises. At that moment, everything you have been taught to believe about hope is true or it is a lie….either you believe there is hope or you believe there is nothing but disease. It’s at that moment, we must remember what Jesus taught us.

It always happens at deep dawn. That in between space and time. That moment just after the news is bad….like when one parent comes home and says to the other—I don’t love you anymore….or when someone says I am powerless over my addiction…or when the boss says your job has just been phased out.

It’s just then we must remember how Jesus taught us: “Come to me all who labor and are heavy laden, I will give you rest...” “I am with you always even to the end of the ages..” “This is my body broken for you” Then you will know there is hope that will not let go.

Then you will know there is hope that will not let go. Mary tried to hold on to Jesus; to cling to Jesus. Barbara Brown Taylor says----the only thing we cannot do is hold on to Jesus. He has asked us please not to do that, because he knows that, all in all, we would rather keep him with us where we are then let him take us where he is going. Better we should let Jesus hold on to us, perhaps. Better we should let him take us into the white-hot presence of God, who is not behind us, but ahead of us, every step of the way.” Jesus leads us into new life; into new relationship.

Mary begins the day in fear, confusion, and tears – deep dawn. And then she finds new life standing before her. It is not what she expected. An unlikely movie expresses it - the movie Ratatouille. Ratatouille is an animation in which Remy, the French rat, lives underground in pipes and sewers as rats do. But one day, all the rats get swept away by a surge of water and Remy gets separated from all his friends and family. Late at night –in the dark-hungry, lost and alone, he starts climbing up the dripping, slimy pipes to get his bearings. He reaches street level and continues up between walls of buildings, through cracks, along girders, out on a balcony, up the vines of a pillar, and finally onto a roof where suddenly he is looking out over the Eiffel Tower and all of Paris at night. He says, "All this time I've been underneath Paris. Wow!"

Deep dawn is that indefinable time between darkness and light….that time when the promise in which we believe is true; or the promise in which we believe is a lie.
Mary went to the tomb at deep dawn. She was in the dark. The darkness that comes just before the dawn. She didn’t see. Then the angels appeared. And still she didn’t see. Then Jesus appeared. And still she didn’t see. She was in that moment of deep dawn. Then Jesus spoke her name. And the sun appeared. Light came. Mary could see clearly. But don’t hold on to Jesus. Let Jesus hold on to us and lead the way into light and life.

In those moments of deep, deep dawn in our life. Remember. If we take that word apart it is Re and Member. To Re-Member is to put back together. To put back together a broken body. Jesus’ body was broken for us, but we know about the resurrection.

Just remember in the winter
Far beneath the bitter snows,
Lies the seed that with the sun's love
In the spring becomes the rose.
(from "The Rose" by Amanda McBrooom)

So, in those moments of deep, deep dawn, when we remember what Jesus taught us, we will know, we will believe, we will be sure that there is hope so strong that not even the grave can contain it. Let me repeat that….there is hope so strong that not even the grave can contain it. That hope for us is the truth of Jesus of Nazareth.

Alleluia. The Lord is Risen.