Books and their Covers

A Sermon preached at Southminster Presbyterian Church
April 27, 2009

Luke 24:13-48

My friends and I pass books back and forth. If there is a book we enjoy, we’ll pass it on when we’re done with it. One of my friends sent me a book a few weeks back. I read it and loved it. I asked her how she had heard of it and she said she had picked it out because of the cover. Even though we know you shouldn’t judge books by their covers, she did. And it does have a nice cover.

We do it all the time.

When we’re judging THINGS because of their packaging, that is one thing. We’re usually the ones to suffer for bad judgment—occasionally a great book cover doesn’t mean a great story on the pages.

But when we judge people by their packaging, we enter into a whole different problem. Because people’s lives can be on the line. Appearances can keep people from getting jobs. They can keep people from making friends or being accepted in a community. Skin color, accents, behaviors, religion, sexual orientation, and political beliefs are examples of ‘book covers’ we use to judge others.

Last week, the youth who preached spoke about the masks they feel they have to wear in the world so that they can make it through. But here, in church, is the place they can let their masks down. Here’s the place they don’t need deceptive packaging to make sure they’ll be accepted. Here they can be themselves.

Many of you have seen the video circulating on the web of Susan Boyle, a Scottish church lady who is a contestant on Britain’s Got Talent. Here is a link to the clip. Whether or not you’ve seen it already, I invite you to pay particular attention to the judges and to their reactions and their comments.

This is the clearest illustration I’ve seen in a while of people’s judgments and preconceptions being proved so wrong. And I especially appreciate the humility with which two of the judges acknowledge their error, and the error of the crowd.

Our scripture passage this morning made me think of books and their covers, masks, and judging by appearances.
Two followers are walking to Emmaus, talking about the crucifixion of Jesus, which they had seen, and the stories of his resurrection appearances, which they had not seen. Somehow, on the road, Jesus joins them, but “their eyes were kept from recognizing him”. He asks them what they are talking about and they look at him like he’s been hiding under a rock. “Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who does not know the things that have taken place there in these days?”
Our two followers will have another chance to provide better hospitality later in the story, and they will, but they aren’t off to a good start, are they?
“What things?”, he asks.
Listen to what their answer says about their perceptions of who Jesus is: “The things about Jesus of Nazareth, who was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people, and how our chief priests and leaders handed him over to be condemned to death and crucified him. But we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel. And besides all this, it is now the third day since these things took place.

“And, I know this is almost to ridiculous to repeat, but some women from our group told us this crazy story. They were at the tomb early this morning, and when they did not find his body there, they came back and told us that they had seen a vision of angels, (I know this is crazy, right?) who said that he was alive. So some of those who were with us went to the tomb and found it just as the women had said, but they didn’t see him. So I’m sure there’s a logical explanation, somewhere.”

Quite a story. How’d you like to have to tell that story to a stranger you meet on the road? How much confidence would you have to repeat the women’s story?

And did you notice what they called Jesus?
A prophet. That much they are willing to claim about him. A prophet mighty in word and deed. And then they move from what they were willing to claim about him to what they had hoped to claim about him. They hoped he would be the one to redeem Israel.

You can get a sense that the followers, in the immediate aftermath of Easter, were really trying to reconcile their hopes and their preconceptions with the unfolding reality.

As Jesus was on trial, were they sitting in the bleachers, waiting for him to rise up? But then he didn’t, so they followed him to the cross, thinking, this will be the moment. But then he dies. Many of their hopes must have died in those moments. But maybe they thought of his healings, his miracles, and decided to sit tight and wait, to see what might yet happen.
But then 3 days pass. Three days was the magic number because the soul might stick around for a day or two, but by day three, the soul would have moved on. Death is final by the Third Day.
What were they to hope for by the third day?

But the post-resurrection Jesus is tired of trying to explain things to the disciples. “Oh, how foolish you are and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared! Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and then enter into his glory?!!!”
They still don’t know who he is, but they have the sense to keep their mouths shut and to listen to him as he interprets the last 3 days in light of the scriptures.

And then, proving the point that hospitality is ALWAYS a good idea, they invite Jesus to join them for the night. And it is while they are at table, as the bread is blessed and broken, that their eyes were open and they recognized him.
He vanishes at that moment, but they, like Simon Cowell, the third judge in the video, start talking like they knew to whom they were talking the whole time. “Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us?”
And they turn around and immediately head back to Jerusalem. This is a story that must be told.
And as they are telling the rest of the disciples the good news, Jesus appears again. “Peace be with you.” And they were startled and terrified.
God bless them. One minute witnessing. The next minute startled and terrified.
Poor, terrified disciples.

But Jesus is done with that. “Why are you frightened?!! And why do doubts arise in your hearts??!”
This next section has stuck with me this week. The disciples had been using their preconceptions and their own ideas to understand who Jesus was. And he calls them on it, again and again. He gives them information that should have allowed them to really see who he was, to get past the cover, the masks they were trying to put on him. But that doesn’t work either. On one level, the Emmaus disciples understood enough to run back to Jerusalem, but not enough to get past their doubts. They are still startled and terrified. So, then he takes them back to their senses. LOOK at my hands and feet. SEE. TOUCH me and see. Watch me EAT this fish. LISTEN to my voice.

It is as if Jesus is saying, "please judge this book by its cover. Use your senses people!"

Our senses, which fail us in so many ways, are the final tool toward understanding here. Finally, once they have SEEN, and TOUCHED, HEARD, then he is able to open their minds to understand the scriptures and to make them witnesses.

We, of course, can’t see, touch, or hear Jesus.
But I do have some ideas about what our senses have to do with our faith. Yesterday, at the presbytery meeting, we voted on some amendments to the Constitution of the church, some changes for our Book of Order. One of the amendments involved language about ordaining people to the offices of Elder, Deacon, and Minister. Had the vote passed, we would have been affirming more inclusive language, opening the door for faithful gay and lesbian Christians to be ordained. But the amendment failed.
Many of us were sad. Are sad. Will be sad. Because we know people, we love people, we are related to people who still do not have full inclusion in the church.

And I started thinking about our senses. Because as people were speaking for and against the amendment, it occurred to me that the arguments against full inclusion are very impersonal. Their arguments were about Leviticus and mine were about the people I know and love.

Don’t get me wrong. I take scripture very seriously. It is God’s word to us, and if there is interest, I’d be happy to lead a study on what the scriptures mean when they make reference to sexuality so that we can have some conversations about this topic.

But just as the disciples wanted the scriptures to mean something else about what it meant for Jesus to be the Messiah, so too do some people want to use scripture to keep people from full participation in the church. I think Jesus is telling the disciples and telling us that you can’t understand the scriptures if you don’t square them with your experience. Experience isn’t everything. But it has to count for something.

We are called to be witnesses. All that we have seen and heard and experienced. We need to pray that God will open our minds so we may have understanding.

Let’s return to the Susan Boyle video clip for a moment. This video clip has been viewed more than a hundred million times. It has clearly captured our attention for one reason or another.

Tom Bergeron, who hosts Dancing With the Stars, has an OpEd piece in the NY Times, commenting on the Susan Boyle phenomenon:
“Ms. Boyle’s experience seems to suggest that people are willing to overcome their prejudices and see the world anew. The real problem is that too often we don’t have the courage to sustain wonder. Susan Boyle walked onto that stage and faced down a sea of smug. We need that kind of courage nowadays, and not just on reality shows. We need the courage to believe that stirring voices can be found in unlikely places.”(from the NY Times website http://www.nytimes.com/2009/04/25/opinion/25bergeron.html?em)

Friends, we need to sustain wonder and live in hope. This week, I invite you to keep your senses awake. To pray that God will open our minds to understand the scriptures and to understand each other. Let us use our senses to see, touch, and hear God in unlikely places this week. Amen

Completing the Story

Easter 2009
April 12, 2009
Southminster Presbyterian Church

Isa. 25:6-9
Mark 16:1-8

Easter is THE celebration day in the church. We’ve gathered for 2,000 years, ever since the first years after the resurrection to remember. To celebrate. To bear witness. And it is right for us to do that. We put on our Easter bonnets and new outfits. As a kid, it was my favorite day of the year, because I got to wear a new dress and my new patent leather shoes. We show the world our freshly scrubbed, most celebratory face on this day.


Yet the Easter texts, while they bring out the best in God, don’t bring out the best, necessarily, in people. Thomas doubts. Peter denies Jesus, not once but 3 times. And all of the followers flee.
And then there’s the women. Our silent and terrified women will flee in terror before our text is done. But they haven’t fled yet. As Jesus is dying on the cross, Mark tells us the women were looking on from a distance. (15:40) And as Jesus is buried in the tomb, the women were there too. “Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of Joses saw where the body was laid.” (15:47)
So, after the Sabbath, the women head to the tomb at first light. And notice what the women bring with them as they head to the tomb—spices with which to anoint his body. They don’t bring Jesus a sandwich and a change of clothes. They are not looking for a risen Jesus. They are looking for his body. Their trip to the tomb is a last act of devotion to the man they had supported and followed. As they were coming to make peace with the death of Jesus, they were also making peace with the death of God.

Some commentators have argued that the fact they were coming to anoint a dead body indicated an act of faithlessness on their part. And perhaps so. But where were the rest of the followers? And really, what were those women, on the first Easter, supposed to expect?
Yes, Jesus had told them about what was going to happen. But how could they wrap their minds around that? Resurrection of the dead was a belief held by some Jews, but it was never about the resurrection of one person. It was about the resurrection of all followers at the end of days. How were they supposed to imagine this?

And, quite frankly, we’ve had 2,000 years to wrap our minds around it, and it still seems like staggering news.



Mark’s account of Easter morning is noticeably different than the other 3 gospels. Jesus makes zero resurrection appearances here. He isn’t mistaken for the gardener, as he is in John’s gospel. He doesn’t walk on the road to Emmaus, as he does in Luke. He doesn’t appear to the disciples or to the crowds.

We just have a messenger in white, sitting in the tomb, waiting for the women to arrive. And like all heavenly messengers, or angels, this one tells the women not to be afraid. That doesn’t seem to work so well. But it doesn’t deter the messenger. He tells them, “You are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised. He is not here. Look, there is the place they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee. There you will see him, just as he told you.”

Mark doesn’t see the need to prove the resurrection for doubting Thomases. Yet the man with the message offers the women words to point them to belief. He reminds them of the reality of the death “He was crucified and there is the place where they laid him”. But he also points out a new reality. “He has been raised. He is not here.” And then he reminds them of Jesus’ own words to them. After the Last Supper, Jesus told the followers, “But after I am raised up, I will go before you to Galilee.”
He gives them the information they need to know the truth.

And their response?
“They went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.”
And here Mark ends his gospel. In the Greek, it even ends with a preposition, causing Mark’s 8th grade grammar teacher to hang her head and weep!
Your bibles have some other verses after this ending—both a shorter and a longer ending. But scholars agree that these endings were added on by editors trying to help Mark out. “Surely he couldn’t have meant to end there?”

Yet, it appears that he did.
And as much as we want to immediately flip through our bibles to read another ending to the story, we should try to sit with what Mark has given us, as uncomfortable as it may be. Because Mark’s story defies our attempts to control it, “reiterating as it does the utter failure of Jesus followers.” Here’s the good news, my friends. “Only God’s faithfulness will complete this story.” (Beverly Roberts Gaventa in Feasting on the Word, Vol 2, Year B (WJK, KY 2008) p. 357. )Peter will deny. Thomas will doubt. Followers will flee. The women will be silent. We will add our failures to the list as well.
And yet, God’s faithfulness will win out.

Because 2,000 years later, we are still telling the story. Peter may have denied Jesus, but he went on to lead the church. Thomas goes on to take the gospel to South Asia. The followers become the church. And the women apparently tell someone the story. Because Mark writes it down. And we still gather to tell the story.

So, let’s spend some time with the terror and amazement. There are plenty of reasons we can imagine for he terror and amazement. Perhaps it is the natural response to seeing an angel in the tomb of your beloved friend and leader. Perhaps it is the only appropriate response to the good news, giving God room to create a holy moment.

Or perhaps the women had come to the tomb that morning with a sense both of sadness and relief. Perhaps, as they were devastated at Jesus’ death, maybe they were also relieved. Because, even if they didn’t fully understand what Jesus had been telling them, it was becoming clear to them that following him was going to make some big demands of them. Perhaps “they had approached the tomb with a reverent grief, masking a deep relief that they were no longer burdened with the challenge of costly discipleship.” (D. Cameron Murchison in Feasting on the Word, Vol 2, Year B (WJK, KY 2008) p. 356.)

This wasn’t a relief they would have celebrated, because it revealed their own fear and weakness. Because the truth is that we believe and celebrate the good news of God’s gracious love for creation, even as we fear what that will demand of us.

So perhaps, when they hear the messenger’s words, “he is going ahead of you to Galilee. There you will see him. Just as he told you,” they realize that their relief was short lived. Their challenge of discipleship is still before them and will be more demanding than they had previously been able to grasp. God is not, after all, dead.

One of my professors, when he was in college in Memphis, TN in 1964, was with a friend, waiting “nervously on the edge of their campus, anticipating the arrival of an African American student from elsewhere in the city. On the day before, an interracial group had participated in a nonviolence training workshop led by the Rev. James Lawson. From that meeting had come a series of plans for interracial groups of students to attend worship in all white congregations the following day. So it was that the two white students awaited the arrival of their African American colleague, with whom they would attend worship in a white congregation, unannounced and probably unwelcome. In some small way, it represented a youthful intention to take the cost of discipleship with new seriousness, amid the justice challenges of the civil rights movement.

“For reasons unknown, the African American student never made it to the rendezvous point. To be sure, the cost of discipleship for that student was by all odds higher than that for the two white students. But what is known is the almost shameful relief the two white students felt as it became clear that they could refocus their plans and attend worship elsewhere that day without risk.” (ibid. p. 356.)

Yet, his “shameful relief”, like the women’s terror and amazement, did not have the final say. He went on to become a minister in the Presbyterian Church
and a professor to seminary students, sharing his love of the gospel and commitment for social justice with those he meets.

Friends, Mark has ended his gospel, by sending us out to Galilee, in our terror and amazement, to bear witness to the good news of Jesus Christ. As we leave here this morning, I invite you to consider the cost in your life to following a man who defeated death. Because when we experience the faithfulness of God that completes this story, we are reminded that we are called to faithfulness as well. We are called to love even when it will make our lives uncomfortable and puts them at risk. We are called to stand for justice, not just in what we say, but in what we do. When we become part of God’s family, we are called to see the people we meet as brothers and sisters, even, especially, the people we don’t want to call family. We are called to get past our terror and amazement and speak of the amazing things we have seen and to share GOOD NEWS of God’s love in a world that is sorely in need of comfort, blessing, and love.

As we go out into an Easter world, where death has been defeated, let us live in hope. Because living in the reality that God’s faithfulness, not ours, is what will complete this story allows us to move past our terror and amazement. Like Peter, we can live past our denials into stronger discipleship. Like Thomas, we can live past our doubts into the confidence to share the good news in foreign lands. Like the women, we are free to live into the confidence to tell the story we have been given. “Go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee, to Boise, to Kuna, to Meridian, just as he told you.” Amen and Amen.

Through the Gates

A sermon preached at Southminster Presbyterian
Psalm 118
Mark 11:1-11

We are at the beginning of Holy Week. Today, we heard the Palm Sunday texts, where Jesus makes his entry into Jerusalem for what, we know, will be his final trip. The journey to the cross comes to its completion this week. I invite you to join us for Maundy Thursday. We will have a simple soup supper at 6:00 downstairs in the fellowship hall. Worship will follow at 7:00 here in the sanctuary.
Maundy Thursday is the night we celebrate Jesus’ last meal with his disciples. It is also the night when Jesus was betrayed and handed over to the authorities. It is the night that leads to Good Friday. Some of you have asked me what the word “Maundy” means, anyway. Maundy is Middle English from the Latin for "Commandment". In John’s telling of the Last Supper, Jesus says, “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”
So, the stories of Maundy Thursday are integral to our understanding of Holy Week. If you go from the crowds waving palm branches and then skip straight to Easter, you miss major parts of our story. So, if you cannot attend worship here on Thursday, or somewhere else on Friday, please do read through the passion texts. You can pick your favorite gospel, but I do encourage you to give attention to the whole story.


We’re going to start this morning in the Psalm. This is the Psalm that is quoted by the crowds as Jesus enters Jerusalem—“Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!”.
But the connections in the two texts goes much deeper.
These texts are both subversive. They use perfectly acceptable behavior in ways that turn the status quo on its ear. “O give thanks to the Lord, for he is good. His steadfast love endures forever!”

This is language we’ve grown up hearing, so it doesn’t feel particularly subversive to us, perhaps. But gods in antiquity were detached, angry, fearsome, and stern. Gods were not described as either being “good” or as being full of “steadfast love.” The Hebrew root of “steadfast love”, or “hesed”, is the word for a mother’s womb. The powerful love that gives and nurtures life.

So, by describing God’s love as good, nurturing, steadfast, and eternal, the Psalmist is making a radical claim. And even if we might be familiar with his language choices, don’t think that the claim isn’t still radial today. We live in a world where people, even people in this very room, live as if they are unloved or unlovable. Or we live as if we believe that God is out there, just waiting to judge and condemn us.
Friends, hear the good news. “O give thanks to the Lord, for God is GOOD; God’s steadfast LOVE endures FOREVER!” And in case you didn’t hear it in the first verse, the psalmist says, effectively, “repeat after me”. In this psalm, the call to thank God for God’s good and steadfast love is repeated 5 times!

And the Psalmist doesn’t just leave us with that claim. The psalmist reminds his listeners that God has saved in the past and then turns to the future, making claims and requests of God. “Save us, we beseech you, O Lord!” In this psalm, thanks and praise and cries for help are all mixed together in the same breath. This psalm is often sung at Passover, when the Hebrew people remember the formative events of the Exodus story. And the act of remembering the past is not just to remember the ‘good ol’ days’. We remember the past to create a new and better future. Remembering subverts the world of death and pain in which we often find ourselves by insisting that the God to whom we give our praise and thanks is not done with creation. God has provided help for God’s people in the past. And God is the God whose steadfast love endures forever. So, we’re called to remember as an act of faith for a future in which God will deliver and save again.

So, when Mark’s audience heard the account of the entry into Jerusalem, “blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord”, they would have heard the connection to Psalm 118. Mark is making a claim about what how God is acting through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. “O give thanks to the Lord, for God is good; God’s steadfast love endures forever.” And Jesus will quote this psalm as well, in chapter 12—the stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone. This entry into Jerusalem, this beginning of our most Holy Week, is bathed in the language of God’s saving, steadfast love that endures forever.

I mentioned earlier that both of our texts this morning were radical and subversive. So let’s look at Mark’s account of the entry into Jerusalem. First, note that he gives us a lot of details about how Jesus orchestrated this event. Why do we care where the colt came from? We care about it because it shows that Jesus planned this entry with great detail.

Tradition claimed that the Messiah would enter into Jerusalem for the final battle for salvation from the Mount of Olives. So Jesus begins his “triumphal entry” into Jerusalem from the Mount of Olives. But rather than entering on a horse, as a military leader might, or surrounded by an army, as a military leader might, Jesus enters on a colt, a young horse. (Other gospels specify “donkey”, but Mark just gives us Jesus on a pony). It is possible that Jesus’ feet might have been dragging the ground as he sat on this colt.
Jesus takes all of the traditions of kingship, of messianic deliverance, and honor and turns them upside down.
“You want your deliverance to enter Jerusalem from the Mount of Olives?”, he seems to be saying to the crowd, “fine. We can do that. I’ll give you pomp and circumstance. My way.”
But the crowds spread out branches and their cloaks. They run ahead and follow behind, shouting “blessed is the coming kingdom of our ancestor David.” They don’t seem to see how he is using their expectations to disprove their own expectations.
Yes, Jesus is bringing salvation. Yes, Jesus is bringing back the kingdom of David. But not with power. Not with glory. Not the way the world understands power or glory, at least.
And those of us who have been studying Mark’s gospel the past few months have seen that those people who follow Jesus can’t quite clearly see who he is. They keep bringing their expectations of who they want him to be. And he keeps telling them that their expectations are wrong. But they still don’t see. Here, he stops telling them they are wrong, and tries to show them. What kind of military leader begins his occupation while riding on a pony? What kind of military leader begins his occupation without soldiers but with crowds of children, outcasts, sinners, and nobodies?
The emperor can enter Jerusalem with parades. Napoleon can be painted in majesty. Occupying armies can topple statues. Chinese tanks can roll into Tiananmen Square. But just as one protester standing up to a tank brought the whole charade of power to a halt, so does Jesus’ entry on a colt unmask the charade of power that would tell us that political might and wealth will have the final say.
Because we know how the story will play out. Unlike the crowds waving palm fronds, caught up in seeing Jesus through their preconceptions, we know that he entered the gates of the city to suffer. We know that he entered the gates to die.

And just as we are called to believe that God’s steadfast love endures forever, so are we called to believe that we are to follow Jesus through the gates of the city. We enter with him into his radical claim that God is not yet done with this world. We remember the past actions in order to re-member the future. To claim that the suffering and death of this world do not win. That the powers and principalities of this world do not win. It is God’s love that endures forever.
So, we enter the gates of the city with Jesus. We find concrete actions that show the world that their preconceptions are wrong. We stand up for the downtrodden. We have solidarity with the outcast. We give our voice to those who have no voice. We invite people to join us in love, rather than out of fear. We care for our environment and our earth as if stewardship is different than domination. We show the world that in this current economic downturn, we help ourselves by helping others.

Following Jesus through the gates of the city involves making a claim. The crowd that Mark describes was making a claim too. Perhaps not the claim Jesus wanted them to make, but a claim nonetheless. By cheering his triumphal entry from the Mt of Olives, by throwing branches and cloaks on the ground as they cheer “Hosanna! Blessed is the coming of the kingdom of our ancestor David!”, the crowd is being treasonous to the Roman Empire. They were making a claim for God’s rule over Caesar’s rule. “Long live the king (of David!)”.

Are you ready to enter through the gates? This week, as we prepare for the celebration of Easter, let us ask God to help us set down our preconceptions. Let us ask God to help us live in confidence of God’s steadfast love that endures forever. Let us spend time in the biblical text, preparing our hearts and minds for the good news of Easter that only arrives through the suffering of the cross. Let us pray for the courage to enter through the gates, accompanying our Lord through the final days of his earthly life.
Amen