Showing posts with label Zechariah. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Zechariah. Show all posts

Sunday, April 14, 2019

"God's Revolution of Love." An Introductory Meditation on the Palm and Passion Sunday scripture texts.



"God's Revolution of Love"

An Introductory Meditation on Palm and Passion Sunday"

Luke 19:28-40; Luke 22 & 23


            A few minutes ago, we heard the story how Jesus entered into Jerusalem on the back of a donkey on that first Palm Sunday, in a dramatic act of subversive political theater. Jesus enters into Jerusalem like a king, challenging the authority of every earthly kind and even of Caesar himself.[1]
            Can you imagine what this must have been like for Jesus’ disciples? Jesus had told them what to expect. Three times he had said plainly, “We are going up to Jerusalem, and everything that is written by the prophets about the Son of Man will be fulfilled. He will be delivered over to the Gentiles. They will mock him, insult him, and spit on him. They will flog him and kill him. On the third day, he will rise again.” But I doubt they understood fully what they would witness later in the week.
            There are layers of subversion in today’s scripture readings. Psalm 118 is a psalm of Passover, of escape from slavery. It’s a psalm of liberation from oppression. It celebrates God’s empowerment of people who were once exploited and dehumanized. It praises the complete upending of power structures that enrich a dominant ruler or class at the expense of those who are exploited and marginalized.[2]
        The crowd comes out joyfully to meet Jesus, strewing their palm branches and spreading their cloaks on the road. They pour into the street to welcome their king, riding on a young donkey—a beast of burden.     
             On the other side of the city there was another parade.  Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor of the region, was entering the city with his cavalry and foot soldiers, as he did every Passover.   There was often trouble in Jerusalem around the time of the Passover—a festival that celebrated the Jewish people’s liberation from an earlier empire, when Moses led them out of Egypt.   So, the governor brought in extra troops to reinforce the troops that were permanently stationed near the Temple, as a show of power and force.          
            The story of Palm Sunday, as Luke tells it, draws on Old Testament prophecies to show Jesus as a messianic king. Six centuries earlier, the prophet Zechariah had proclaimed a messianic vision of a king like David returning to the throne in Jerusalem, and Luke uses this imagery in describing Jesus’ procession into Jerusalem.  Zechariah says, “Lo, your king comes to you, triumphant and victorious is he, humble and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.[3]  
            The people would have recognized this imagery. So, when Jesus came riding into Jerusalem, it must have felt to the peasants in the crowd as though they were on the threshold of an exciting new era. By entering Jerusalem in this way, Jesus claims to be the legitimate king.  This is a counter-demonstration that challenges the authority of imperial rule over Jerusalem.
            In Zechariah’s prophecy, the new king would banish war from the land— no more chariots, war-horses, or military weapons.  Jesus’s procession deliberately countered what was happening on the other side of the city.
            Pilate’s procession embodied the power, glory, and violence of the empire that ruled the world, the Roman Empire that exercised power through military domination, using the cutting-edge military technologies of the day.
            Jesus’s procession embodied an alternative vision-- the kingdom of God.  His victory will be won through humility and nonviolence and love. Jesus’ humble claim to a peaceful kingship was radically counter-cultural. It was politically subversive. This contrast— between the kingdom of God and the kingdom of Caesar— is central to the gospel story--   to the story of Jesus and the early church.
            Jesus enters the city and proceeds to the Temple. Now, in that time, the Temple wasn’t just a religious center, but also the place where Judean society interfaced with the Roman Empire. As Robert Williamson points out, it was the job of the chief priests to collect taxes as tribute for Rome and to keep Judea functioning smoothly as a loyal Roman province.  “Through the Temple, religious elites kept the Empire operating smoothly. They provided a theological rationale for the political and economic domination of the Roman Empire, which enriched the upper classes at the expense of the poor.”[4]
            According to Luke’s Gospel, Jesus returned to the Temple on the following day to overturn the tables and cast out the money changers, protesting the Temple’s collaboration with an Empire that enriched the few and oppressed the many.
            In a few moments, we are going to hear the story of Christ's Passion, as told by Luke.  Today and this Holy Week, may we be startled and challenged into seeing God’s Reign afresh, as the subversive, empire-challenging reality that it is.
            Following Jesus on the way of the cross, we need to choose. Will we collaborate with the Empire?  Or will we choose to participate fully in God’s revolution of love, which promises abundant life for all?  If we see injustice and evil in the world around us, will we walk the way of humility and non-violence and love to resist the that injustice, trusting in God’s abundance and faithfulness?
            The good news we hear in the Holy Week story is that God emptied God's self for the sake of every beloved creature, including you and me-- because it's God's very nature to love us that radically.  We know what God's love is like by seeing it in the self-emptying servanthood and humility and self-giving on the cross! 
            So, let us go there and be with our Lord in his suffering and in his triumph.  See his great love for you...   and renew your great love for Him.
            Listen for the good news:
At this point, we heard the story of Christ’s Passion, as told by Luke the Evangelist, in chapters 22 and 23. http://bible.oremus.org/?passage=Luke+22


Rev. Fran Hayes, Pastor
Littlefield Presbyterian Church
Dearborn, Michigan
April 14, 2019



[1] David Lose, Palm / Passion Sunday A.  http://www.davidlose.net/2017/04/palmpassion-sunday-a/

[2] Lindsey Paris-Lopez, “Coronation Before Crucifixion: The Ominious, Subversive Politics of Palm Sunday.” https://www.ravenfoundation.org/coronation-before-crucifixion-the-ominous-subversive-politics-of-palm-sunday-gvbs-year-c/



[3] Zechariah 9:9

Sunday, March 25, 2018

Palm and Passion Sunday: A Meditation from Littlefield Presbyterian Church


March for Our Lives in Detroit. Photo: Julie Gruber Delezenne

"Introductory Meditation on Palm and Passion Sunday"

Mark 14 and 15

The streets around our nation were filled yesterday with young people and parents and other supporters, for March for Our Lives rallies. Hundreds of thousands gathered in our nation’s capital. They came from Florida, where their high school peers were gunned down on Ash Wednesday and from around the country.  There were student-led marches around the country and in other nations, protesting gun violence and demanding reforms that will make the world safer.
            We’ve witnessed-- and some of us have participated in--women’s marches… and protests against travel bans.  There have been vigils to grieve mass shootings.  Every week there are rallies to support immigrants who are being deported.  There are protests of various kinds of injustice.
            Beginning the day after Mother’s Day, there were will be a series of peaceful actions in Washington and in state capitals around the country as part of the new Poor People’s Campaign.  

            A few minutes ago, we heard the story of another peaceful demonstration, when Jesus entered into Jerusalem on the back of a donkey on that first Palm Sunday, in a dramatic act of political theater. Jesus enters into Jerusalem like a king, challenging the authority of every earthly kind and even of Caesar himself.[1]
            The political implications of Palm Sunday have been lost in many of our churches. With the people in the crowds that welcomed Jesus that first Palm Sunday, we wave our palms and shout “Hosanna!” and sing “All Glory, Laud and Honor.”  But we may not realize that what we’re doing is challenging the Empire.  If Jesus has all glory and honor, there is none left for Caesar.[2]

             On the other side of the city there was another parade.  Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor of the region, was entering the city with his cavalry and foot soldiers, as he did every Passover.   There was often trouble in Jerusalem around the time of the Passover—a festival that celebrated the Jewish people’s liberation from an earlier empire, when Moses led them out of Egypt.   So, the governor brought in extra troops to reinforce the troops that were permanently stationed near the Temple, as a show of power and force. 
             
            The story of Palm Sunday, as Mark tells it, draws on Old Testament prophecies to show Jesus as a messianic king. Six centuries earlier, the prophet Zechariah had proclaimed a messianic vision of a king like David returning to the throne in Jerusalem, and Mark uses this imagery in describing Jesus’ procession into Jerusalem.  Zechariah says,
            “Lo, your king comes to you, triumphant and victorious is he, humble and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.[3]  
            The people would have recognized this imagery. So, when Jesus came riding into Jerusalem, it must have felt to the peasants in the crowd as though they were on the threshold of an exciting new era.   By entering Jerusalem in this way, Jesus claims to be the legitimate “king”.  This is a counter-demonstration that challenges the authority of imperial rule over Jerusalem.
            In Zechariah’s prophecy, the new king would banish war from the land— no more chariots, war-horses, or military weapons.  Jesus’s procession deliberately countered what was happening on the other side of the city.
            Pilate’s procession embodied the power, glory, and violence of the empire that ruled the world, the Roman Empire that exercised power through military domination, using the cutting-edge military technologies of the day.
            Jesus’s procession embodied an alternative vision-- the kingdom of God.  His victory will be won through humility and nonviolence and love. Jesus’ humble claim to a peaceful kingship was radically counter-cultural. It was politically subversive.
            This contrast— between the kingdom of God and the kingdom of Caesar— is central to the gospel story--   to the story of Jesus and the early church.
            Jesus enters the city and proceeds to the Temple. Now, in that time, the Temple wasn’t just a religious center, but also the place where Judean society interfaced with the Roman Empire. As Robert Williamson points out, it was the job of the chief priests to collect taxes as tribute for Rome and to keep Judea functioning smoothly as a loyal Roman province.  “Through the Temple, religious elites kept the Empire operating smoothly. They provided a theological rationale for the political and economic domination of the Roman Empire, which enriched the upper classes at the expense of the poor.”[4]
            According to Mark’s Gospel, Jesus returned to the Temple on the following day to overturn the tables and cast out the money changers, protesting the Temple’s collaboration with an Empire that enriched the few and oppressed the many.

            In a few moments, we are going to hear the story of Christ's Passion, as told by Mark.  Today and this Holy Week, may we be startled and challenged into seeing God’s Reign afresh, as the subversive, empire-challenging reality that it is.
            Following Jesus on the way of the cross, we need to choose. Will we collaborate with the Empire?  Or will we choose to participate fully in God’s revolution of love, which promises abundant life for all?  If we see injustice and evil in the world around us, will we walk the way of humility and non-violence and love to resist the that injustice, trusting in God’s abundance and faithfulness?
            The good news we hear in the Holy Week story is that God emptied God's self for the sake of every beloved creature, including you and me-- because it's God's very nature to love us that radically.  We know what God's love is like by seeing it in the self-emptying servanthood and humility and self-giving on the cross! 
            So, let us go there and be with our Lord in his suffering and in his triumph.  See his great love for you...   and renew your great love for Him.
            Listen for the good news:

At this point, we heard the story of Christ’s Passion, as told by Mark the Evangelist, in chapters 14 and 15. http://bible.oremus.org/?ql=199173467


Rev. Fran Hayes, Pastor
Littlefield Presbyterian Church
Dearborn, Michigan
March 25, 2018                      


[2] Robert Williamson Jr, “Palm Sunday in the Time of Trump (Mark 11:1-11), at https://robertwilliamsonjr.com/palm-sunday-time-trump/

[3] Zechariah 9:9
[4] Williamson.

Monday, December 21, 2015

"Saying Yes to God". A sermon from Littlefield Presbyterian Church on the 4th Sunday of Advent, on Luke 1.


"Saying Yes to God"
Luke 1, on the 4th Sunday of Advent



Angels don’t show up very often in the Scriptures.  But when they do appear, usually something BIG... strange...  and wonderful is about to happen.
            The angel Gabriel came to tell Mary that she had been chosen by God to help change the world,  by bearing the Christ.
Though Gabriel called Mary "favored one,"  she didn't feel favored-- at least not at first.  She felt perplexed.  “How can this be?”
            And yet Mary responded to Gabriel by saying,  "Here am I, the servant of the Lord.  Let it be with me according to your word."
            In other words, Mary says,  "I'm not sure what all of this means.  but nevertheless,   here I am, ready to be of service in God's work.  Whatever you say, God."
            What a wonderful, faithful thing for Mary to say!   It couldn't have been an easy decision for her.  Change never is.
            There was a lot at stake for Mary.  She was young.  Her marriage to Joseph had been arranged, and she was full of plans for her life and their future together.  She had some sense of what kind of life it would be...   some idea about what she could expect in life.
            Mary was poor...  and vulnerable.   As a female, her economic SURVIVAL depended on marriage.  Her security depended on her attractiveness as a wife and mother.         So--  what did it mean for a girl like Mary to say yes to God’s plan?
            It meant risking all that she had hoped for...   all her plans for her life.    It meant risking her security.  And it meant risking her very LIFE.  The penalty for a woman caught in ADULTERY in her day could be public STONING.  If Joseph believed that her pregnancy was a result of an illicit affair,  then-- by LAW-- Mary could be taken to the edge of town and STONED to death.
            Mary's story reminds us that to be God's servant in the world means risking radical changes in our priorities.  It means placing our very lives into God's hands.   It means trusting in God to CARE for us—even through dangerous times.
            Yet Mary responded in obedience and trust and courage.   "Here I am, Lord."  I'll be your servant." 
            If Mary's DECISION was extraordinary,  her RESPONSE to the decision was even more extraordinary. 
            Luke tells us--  after the angel left-- Mary hurried to visit her elderly cousin Elizabeth, who had been unable to bear children all her life.  As proof that nothing is impossible with God--  the angel Gabriel had told Mary that Elizabeth was six months pregnant in her old age.
            When Elizabeth hears Mary's voice, the child leaps in her womb, and she knows that she has been especially touched by God.  Filled with the Holy Spirit, Elizabeth calls out:  "You are BLESSED among women.  Blessed is she who believed that God's promise would be fulfilled!"
            By declaring both Mary and the fruit of her womb “blessed,” Elizabeth begins a series of blessings that weave through Luke’s birth narrative and intensify its tone of joy and praise.  Mary, Zechariah, and Simeon will all add their blessings, praising God for what God is doing at this moment in history   and recognizing that those who are privileged to be instruments of God’s saving work have been richly blessed.  
            Mary's song is a song of JOY and PRAISE.      "My soul magnifies the Lord,  and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant.  Surely, from now on, all generations will call me blessed."
            Joy comes to us as a GIFT--  often an unexpected gift.  So all we can really do is to receive it...   believe in it...  and stop doing things that get in its way.
            That's what happened to Mary at Elizabeth's house.  She stopped wringing her hands   and wondering what in the world she was going to do next.  She got surprised by JOY and started singing a song the church is still singing to this day.

            Mary has been a model of faith for Christians through the centuries.  God needed Mary's freely given "YES"  to God's gracious invitation to become the Mother of Jesus.  The mystery of INCARNATION could not have taken place without Mary's wholehearted "YES".  And that "YES"  couldn't have taken place without Mary's unbounded trust in God.

            Do you wonder?  How was such radical obedience and openness on Mary's part made possible?  How did she get from saying, “How can this be?”—to “Let it be, according to God’s word”?
            I think it grew out of the sense of trust that had developed in her as she heard the stories of the God of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob...  and how God had always dealt with her people.  That long history had taught her two things about God--  that God was utterly mysterious...  and yet always good.   God's ways are almost never obvious...  but they inevitably work out better than we could imagine.   And that's some of the GOOD NEWS of God. 

            The old King James Version puts part of Mary’s song of praise this way:  “He hath scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts.”  I think that’s an especially apt translation, for it is by our imagining, by what our hearts picture in fear or desire, that we humans are pushed and pulled in our many directions.
            Imagination can be a channel for our destruction—especially when fear and resentment prevail.  But it can also serve to gather and bless and inspire us.   

            We live in a society in which the gap between the rich and poor has widened…  a society in which many people of goodwill are finding it important and necessary to declare that black lives matter… where it’s important and necessary to stand in solidarity with our Muslim neighbors.   We live in a time of fear and suspicion of people who are different… and a growing number of people believe they need guns to protect themselves against all the terrible things they imagine.   
            We live in a world in which many people lack adequate food or safe water or shelter or sanitation.   The list could go on and on.  But it doesn’t have to be that way. 
            As I was working on this sermon, I was reminded of a photo I saw some time ago Facebook:  a young Palestinian mother in Gaza is holding her newborn child, saying,  “I hope my daughter will live in peace.”   Imagine it!  Is anything impossible for God?
            I’ve really grown to love the season of Advent.  As Gracia Grindal writes in one of her hymns, “We light the Advent candles against the winter night.”  Not “because of” or “during,” but “against” the winter night.   The light of Advent, like the light of Christ, is a protest to the darkness that surrounds us.[1] 
            Instead of being overwhelmed and despairing over what’s wrong in the world or trying to trying to avoid it by working to “have ourselves a merry little Christmas,” the themes and the music of Advent can point us to another way:  the way of hope.  They way of joyful obedience that Mary models for us—working with God to change the world.

            I heard a story about a hungry child in a poor community who prayed fervently one Christmas for some food and toys, but nothing happened.   A cynical friend asked her with a sneer,  "What happened to this God of yours?  Why didn't He hear and answer you?'
            The child answered simply,  "Oh, I'm sure God did hear me...  and told someone to bring me a Christmas gift.  But I guess they just forgot."[2]
            I think more often than not, this is where the breakdown occurs:   not with God-- but with us.  God, for reasons of God's choosing, wants to involve us humans in completing the creation.  God invites us into the JOY of this, but we hear too faintly...  and forget too quickly.  
            In Advent, we’re reminded of the reason for this holy season.  When circumstances are dark and difficult, we need to look beyond ourselves for salvation.  We need to listen again for God’s promises   and for signs that “the world is about to turn.”
            If you read through the first few chapters of Luke, you’ll notice that there are several songs.   Mary sings the “Magnificat” in today’s story.  Zehariah sings when his son John is born and his tongue is finally loosened.  The angels sing of peace and goodwill when they share their “good news of great joy” with the shepherds.  And Simeon sings his song of farewell when he has seen God’s promises fulfilled. 
            Why all these songs?  I think David Lose is right when he suggests that singing can be an act of resistance.   African slaves knew this.  When they sang their spirituals, they were praising God and also protesting the injustices of their lives and even pointing the way to freedom. 
            The civil rights leaders knew this, too, singing songs like “We Shall Overcome” and other freedom songs.
            The protesters in Leipzig in 1989 knew this as well.  For several months before the fall of the Berlin wall, the citizens of Leipzig gathered on Monday evenings by candlelight around St. Nikolai Church—the church where Bach composed so many of his cantatas—to sing.  Over two months, their numbers grew from a little more than a thousand people to more than three hundred thousand—over half the citizens of the city.  They sang songs of hope and protest and justice, until their song shook the powers of their nation and changed the world. 
            Later, when someone asked one of the officers of the Stasi, the East German secret police, why they did not crush this protest like they had so many others, the officer replied, “We had no contingency plan for song.”[3]
            Today, I hope that as we are gathered around this word from the gospel, we will to imagine ourselves alongside Mary, seeing history’s hard cruelty give way to hope and gracious surprise.   Let us sing Mary’s song of praise with her...  and envision the vindication of the poor.   
            A lot of what we do when we come together in worship is practicing this imagination of the heart, by the gift and command of God.  In the liturgy, we imagine that love rules already,  that the lowly are lifted up, that death is conquered, sin cleansed away... peace triumphant...and Christ touched and seen and tasted.  On the verge of Christmas, we imagine and sing with Mary.
            Imagine with the Magnificat its dream of a justice that redistributes wealth and privilege and power.   Imagine a world where the lion and the lamb can be together in peace… where those who have been proud and rich can be in solidarity with those who yearn for a turning of the socio-economic tables… imagine discovering that there can be enough for everyone in God’s realm.           
            And remember that we're invited to participate more fully in God's saving work in the world. 
            Mary was invited to bear Christ.  And so, my friends, are we. 
            We can choose to say YES to God, and open ourselves to let God use us as instruments of love and grace and mercy and justice and peace.
Today’s gospel story is about Mary.  But it’s your story and mine as well.  God has chosen each of us, favored each of us, graced each of us.
By the power of God’s Spirit, God has descended upon us and conceived Christ in us.   We are called to be God-bearers,   calling that can bring with it extraordinary privileges as well as significant hardships.  But the promise remains the same: nothing is impossible for the One we serve and bear.
We are called to bear the love of Christ out into the world...  and let it transform the world, as it transforms us. 
            " Let it be with me.  Let it be with us, according to your Word.”  Let it be!



Rev. Fran Hayes, Pastor
Littlefield Presbyterian Church
Dearborn, Michigan
December 20, 2015

                       
                                                     


[1] David Lose, “Singing As An Act of Resistance, at his blog “In the Meantime” at davidlose.net


[2]John Claypool in Lectionary Homiletics, Dec. 1996, p. 33.
[3] David Lose, “Singing As An Act of Resistance, at davidlose.net, December 14, 2015.