Readings FIRST LESSON The first lesson is from Out of Solitude by Henri Nouwen You know how a letter can change your day. When you watch people in front of the wall of mailboxes, you can see how a small piece of paper can change the expression on a face, can make a curved back straight, and a sullen mouth whistle again. The day might be just as dull as the day before and the work just as tiring. But the letter in your mailbox telling you that someone loves you, that someone is looking forward to meeting you again, that someone needs your presence, or that someone promises to come soon, makes all the difference. A life lived in expectation is like a life in which we have received a letter, a letter which makes the one we have missed so much return even earlier than we could imagine. Expectation brings joy to the center of our sadness and the loved one to the heart of our longings. The one who stayed with us in the past and will return to us in the future becomes present to us in the precious moment in which memory and hope touch each other. At that moment we can realize that we can only expect someone because they have already touched us. A student from California who had to leave many of his good friends behind to come to school at the faraway east coast recently said to me: “It was hard to depart; but if the good-bye is not painful, the hello cannot be joyful either.” And so his sadness of September became his joy at Christmas time. SECOND LESSON The second lesson is from the Gospel of Luke, Chapter 19, verses 28 through 40 When he had come near Bethphage and Bethany, at the place called the Mount of Olives, he sent two of the disciples, saying, “Go into the village ahead of you, and as you enter it you will find tied there a colt that has never been ridden. Untie it and bring it here. If anyone asks you, ‘Why are you untying it?’ just say this: ‘The Teacher needs it.’” So those who were sent departed and found it as he had told them. As they were untying the colt, its owners asked them, “Why are you untying the colt?” They said, “The Teacher needs it.” Then they brought it to Jesus; and after throwing their cloaks on the colt, they set Jesus on it. As he rode along, people kept spreading their cloaks on the road. As he was now approaching the path down from the Mount of Olives, the whole multitude of the disciples began to praise God joyfully with a loud voice for all the deeds of power that they had seen, saying, “Blessed is the one Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to him, “Teacher, order your disciples to stop.” Jesus answered, “I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out.” |
This Week's Sermon Date: March 28, 2010 Title: What God Wants: Rejoicing Message Delivered By: Rev. Dr. Joe McMurray Some renovations were being planned at a local church. After months of trying to raise funds, a very rich man went up to his pastor and said, "I want you to take a three-month trip to the Holy Land at my expense. When you come back, I'll have a big surprise for you." The minister accepted the offer, and he set off to the Middle East. Three months later he returned home. He was met by the wealthy congregant, who showed him that all the renovations he’d planned had been implemented while he was away, and a few new surprises as well. "It's the finest church building money can buy, Reverend," the man said. "I spared no expense." And he was right. It was a magnificent edifice, outside and in. But there was one striking difference that the pastor could not help but notice. There was only one pew, and it was at the very back of the Sanctuary. "A church with only one pew?" asked the Pastor. “That seems very strange. Isn’t it unusual for a church with so many people?” "You just wait until Sunday," the rich man said. When Sunday came and the first congregants arrived and entered the church, they filed into the only pew, one-by-one, and sat down. Suddenly, when the pew was full, a switch clicked, a circuit closed, gears meshed, a belt moved and, just like that, the rear pew automatically began to move forward. When it reached the front of the church, it came to a stop. "Wonderful!" said the minister. "Marvelous!" At the same time, another empty pew came up from below at the back and more people sat down. And when that pew was full, it also moved to the front of the church, directly behind the first pew. "Wonderful!" said the minister. "Marvelous!" And so it continued, pews filling and moving forward until finally the church was full from front to back. "Wonderful!" said the minister. "Marvelous!" Everyone was abuzz at this new improvement. The service began on time, and everyone was content. At the appropriate time, the pastor started to preach his sermon. He launched into his text and after 45 minutes, he was still going strong. He was just about to hit the one-hour mark and was still going strong with no end in sight. Suddenly, at exactly the one-hour mark, a bell rang, and a trap door in the floor behind the pulpit dropped open. "Wonderful!" said the congregation. "Marvelous!" Will you pray with me? God, help us to remain focused during this Holy Week. Give us the hope that comes with rejoicing; the strength to face the difficulties that may lie ahead; the courage to live out our own passionate story, so that when we are tested, when we are challenged, we might continually place our trust in you to see us through. May we live out these principles in good faith. And may my words and all of our thoughts be filled with honor and praise to you. Amen. Palm Sunday is a day of mixed blessing in the Christian tradition, for within it can be found each of these elements: an atmosphere for rejoicing, an anticipation of loss, and a possibility of hope. The disciples and probably a much larger gathering of people, rejoiced at Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem – the long-awaited arrival of the one whom many believed represented the promised hope for Israel. Those who welcomed him spread their cloaks along the path to prevent the dust from rising; they waved branches and boughs to celebrate his coming; and they shouted “Hosanna, blessed is the one who comes in the name of God.” “Blessed is this one from God who brings hope to the hearts of a suffering people; blessed is the one who speaks truth to power, putting religious, social, cultural and national hypocrisy under the spotlight; blessed is the one who breaks the back of traditions and laws that cause harm, rather than bring life-giving spirit of God, the Good News, to God’s people. And now here was this Jesus, about to make a triumphal entry into the holy city. Indeed it was cause for great celebration. Yet the air was thick with anticipation, and the atmosphere fraught with danger. There was open hostility toward Jesus and his followers. After Jesus had raised Lazarus from the dead, rumors spread throughout the countryside about the meaning of that miracle and the power Jesus possessed. Questions arose as to the nature and origin of that power. Among the Pharisees, Jesus was portrayed as a threat—for it was they who already held power among the Jewish authorities. The religious leaders themselves had questioned Jesus’ authority; accused him of being a false prophet who performed miracles that were not from God but were generated through evil. They challenged Jesus publicly about the religious law while at the same time attempted to trap him with tricks and contradictions that could humiliate him in the eyes of his followers. The disciples were fearful of what might happen, particularly since Jesus had already told them of the suffering and death he would have to endure to make the realm of God accessible to all people. They were aware of the possibility for dire circumstances they had hoped to avoid. This explained their reticence about Jesus’ plan to come to Jerusalem now, when emotions were already running high. Even in the midst of the tension, there was reason among the disciples for hope—a hope that it would be unnecessary for Jesus to suffer or to die; a hope that the religious authorities, even the Roman government itself, would be overthrown and replaced with Jesus, a ruler, like their own King David, one who would guide Israel and return her to good favor on earth, as well as in the sight of God.
The author of Luke, who transcribed this story from the oral tradition many years after it happened—after the temple had been destroyed—wrote about the atmosphere of hope and rejoicing before the tragedy of the Passion story hit home. The author recalled the incredible hope that was present, even in the midst of pending despair. He recalled the great joy and happiness felt by the people who witnessed that day, even as fear was ready to grasp them back to reality. This event was not one to be bypassed; it would not, ultimately, pale the impact of the pain and suffering that would ensue. But the rejoicing, the hope were necessary elements within the Passion. There was jubilation at his coming – even under the shadow of all that was still to come. We are reminded in this story and throughout all of scripture that hope and rejoicing are born from adversity, suffering, even tragedy. It happened again and again to individuals and peoples, most particularly within the context of the broader Christian movement that was given birth by these events. Henri Nouwen reminds us that “one without hope for the future cannot live creatively in the present.” An expectant present will create a future joy. But a spirit without hope is one doomed to remain stuck in time and place, unable to see beyond a stagnant and impenetrable “present” that offers no relief and little happiness or joy. Part of the remedy for this condition is finding joy in the present even in the midst of turmoil and challenge. It’s certainly not an easy thing to do. But this is exactly what Palm Sunday is about. What I’m talking about is much more than just having a positive attitude or espousing “false” hope. There is a great chasm between “real hope” and “false hope.” Real hope is based in an internal faith the transformation is possible, not only for ourselves, but for others, as well. False hope is a claim that we believe in the future without really believing in it. This could also be called “blind hope” and is a close cousin of “blind faith”—that way of claiming understanding or knowing without ever thinking through what it is you believe. When I was a child, having grown up in the Catholic tradition, I was exposed to a constant absorption of rules and regulations. I accepted dogma and rhetoric, and I memorized my catechism. When I was young, not yet impacted by adolescence and the reality of growing up, I had never reached a point where I questioned anything, struggled with anything, or learned what was behind my system of beliefs. I would call that a good example of blind faith. This doesn’t mean we have to have a practical answer to all things – that would be impossible; but there is something – a thing called faith based on truth, and trust in God – that transcend our human weakness not to believe or trust. We can have an experiential understanding of who God is, we can imagine how we fit into the cosmos and what the entirety of the world means, and we can have a personal relationship with the person of Jesus and our own understanding of how he fits into our faith – we can do all those things without having all the answers. That is faith with integrity. And the same is true of blind hope. Blind hope says, in simple terms, “We must have a positive attitude,” without cultivating any substance behind that need or any understanding of what a positive attitude can mean. How can we possibly find the sunny side of life without even taking a chance to step into the sun? Blind hope is filled with false bravado; it’s defensive; it’s an attempt to find a silver lining without acknowledging that God is also in the cloud. You’ve probably heard of the book and film, featured on Oprah at one point, called The Secret. One of the basic tenets of this teaching is about attraction – that we draw to ourselves that which we think about most. We might say to ourselves, “Why do I keep ending up with people who are so needy?” The Secret would tell us that this is the conscious or unconscious message we are sending out into the universe. The idea is that if we dwell on the positive aspect of things, even imagine things as we want them to be rather than spending so much time with regret and concentrating on what we don’t have, we would draw those things of our desire from the Universe (or from God) to ourselves. Some have criticized this belief system, saying it is materially-based and not spiritually-based. But what would that be like – to spend our time in the hope of what could be, rather than the lament of what isn’t? Tolle’s principle invites us to let go of those things from the past that cannot be changed, those things that continue to bring us pain and grief because of guilt and shame—shame that we did or did not act in a particular way. In like manner, fearing the future, instead of anticipating a future filled with hope, paralyzes us into either inaction or overreaction. And all the while, by living in the past or fearing the future, we disempower ourselves from being able to live fully in the present. We disengage from productivity, we fail to dream, and there is absolutely no room for hope. There is nothing for which to rejoice. Eckhart Tolle also teaches that there is always some lesson to be learned; there is always an invitation within the present condition, whether from God, or creation, or the Universe, regardless of the experience we behold, the message we receive or the vehicle used to deliver it. This is nothing more than placing trust in God at every phase of life. It’s tough to live this out because we are conditioned and we have learned so well to live in exactly the opposite way. We are taught not to trust, but to live with doubt and suspicion, and to be expectant of letdown and disappointment. After all, what fun is there in talking about how well things are going or how good life is? It doesn’t sell newspapers, does it? How does the expression go, “If you don’t have anything good to say, come and sit by me!” Instead, God wants us to live in hope. God wants us to rejoice in the present, happy for all that we have and all that we are, and all that is yet to come. So much of the present can be taken for granted. Instead, to make a concerted effort to appreciate each moment, to drink in the God-presence of that moment, to use our senses to ground us in the now – this, we must assume, is what God wants. And to our detractors – those, like the Pharisees, who would tell us to keep our hopes to ourselves and to rein in our rejoicing because our exuberance makes too much noise—tell them this: even if we were silent, the stones themselves would sing out in hope and rejoicing—for that’s what God wants for us. May we continue to follow where God is leading. Amen. |
Selected Past Sermons