Sermon for Sunday 18 October 2015: "We are able"
Sermon for Sunday 18 October 2015
The Rev. Carrie Ballenger Smith
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Grace and peace to you from God our
Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.
Last
Saturday evening, after a day of shocking violence, we debated whether or not
to gather for worship at all the next morning. This week, I found myself asking
not whether we should open the church, but rather what a preacher could
possibly say in response to another week of violent stabbings, executions carried
out in the streets, road closures, barricades, reprisal attacks, funerals, and
hate-filled words thrown back and forth like bombs.
What more is
there to say when words themselves—even the Word of God—have become weapons? Even
those of us who call ourselves followers of the Prince of Peace may feel caught
up in the battle cry that is sounding out over Jerusalem. The Holy Land is an
unholy mess once again, and if there’s one unifying theme of the past week, it
is fear. All the children of Abraham are afraid – afraid of each other, afraid
of certain neighborhoods, afraid to walk with hands in pockets, afraid to enter
through certain gates, afraid to be seen walking while Arab, walking while Israeli,
or simply walking in the wrong place at the wrong time.
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| Sheep at Herod's Gate American Colony Photo Dept. |
All we like
sheep have gone astray. In Israel and Palestine we humans have all turned to
our own way, which is the way of vengeance, division, ideology and power over
others – and at times also apathy and despair. Of course, it’s easy to point
fingers and divert attention elsewhere. It’s easy in this place to give
ourselves a pass for our own contributions to hatred and violence, especially
when the situation is so unbalanced, weighted so heavily on the side of
injustice and oppression.
But this
passage from Isaiah pulls us out of our place in the judgment seat and reminds
us that “All we like sheep have gone
astray; we have all turned to our own
way, and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all.” It may be difficult in Jerusalem today to see any evidence
of our shared humanity or even a shared commitment to a common goal, but one
thing we cannot miss is the overwhelming evidence of our shared human brokenness.
Pain, suffering, and grief are not contained by walls or checkpoints.
Hatred
and denial of the humanity of our neighbor is not restricted to one religion,
one ethnicity, or one national identity. The Word of God reminds us today that we are all sinners. We ourselves have missed
the point and missed the mark, and with each new day fo the occupation, and
each new day of violence, we stray further from the godly path of peace, justice,
and reconciliation.
Yes, we like
sheep have gone astray, and of course lost sheep don’t often find their way back
home on their own. We need the Good Shepherd, Jesus Christ, to lead us on the
right path and to guide us home.
As I
consider the situation in Jerusalem today, I can’t help but picture the church as
the sons of Zebedee from today’s Gospel reading. Here we are, Jesus’ faithful
disciples, standing at the gates of Jerusalem—or rather, sitting in the middle of
it! We know we are lost and astray. We confess our share of responsibility for
the brokenness of this city, of this country, and of this world. We need peace.
We want justice. We want the violence to stop. We want the occupation to end.
The sons of
Zebedee and their exuberant willingness to follow come across as a bit of comic
relief in the midst of this longer passage where Jesus imparts –or tries to impart – difficult truths to
his disciples. To get the full comic effect, we have to start reading a few
verses ahead of this morning’s assigned text:
They were on the road, going up to
Jerusalem, and Jesus was walking ahead of them; they were amazed, and those who
followed were afraid. He took the twelve aside again and began to tell them
what was to happen to him, saying, “See, we are going up to Jerusalem, and the
Son of Man will be handed over to the chief priests and the scribes, and they
will condemn him to death; then they will hand him over to the Gentiles; they
will mock him, and spit upon him, and flog him, and kill him; and after three
days he will rise again.”
And then James
and John, the sons of Zebedee, step forward to say, “Ok, great, we got all
that, but Jesus, we want to sit right next to you when it all goes down. One on
the right, and one on the left, if you don’t mind.”
It’s almost
impossible to overemphasize the inappropriateness of this comment, both in
timing and in context. It reminds me of a gift I received from a member of the
first church I served as pastor. It’s a little plaque that says “Jesus loves
you”, except that underneath it says “But I’m his favorite.”
“Jesus loves
you, but I’m his favorite” was what James and John were thinking, even as Jesus
told them what was about to happen. They were ready to follow, but they wanted
a little glory, too. They were ready to go into Jerusalem, but they wanted to
ensure some payoff at the end of this whole “Way of the Cross” business.
Jesus responds
by saying, “Were you listening just now? Remember that stuff about being
arrested, falsely convicted, publicly humiliated, tortured and killed? Are you
really prepared to be at my side through all of this?”
And James
and John eagerly reply, “We are able!”
But of
course they had no idea what they were really saying.
Last week
when we gathered for worship in the wake of that violent Saturday, Bishop
Younan addressed the issue of what we, the church, are able to do about the
situation in Jerusalem today. In his sermon the bishop asked the church to
commit to prayer and fasting for the sake of the peace of Jerusalem. Pray for
peace. Pray for justice. Pray for healing. This is what we are able to do, he told us.
Some might
see prayer as a weak strategy. Some would rather hear a call to arms or a plan
for something more “radical” or newsworthy. For example, we the disciples might
prefer to be at the right and left hand of Jesus as he marches into Jerusalem,
turning over tables, knocking down barricades, and giving interviews to BBC and
CNN in the process of bringing peace to Jerusalem.
After all, that
sounds more fun than prayer.
But really,
the commitment to pray – to really pray,
putting ourselves wholly in the hands of Jesus – is radical indeed. And dangerous!
Because when we tell Jesus “we are able”, we often forget that the way of Jesus
is never the way of glory. When we say we are able to drink the cup of Jesus,
we’re saying we’re ready for persecution and humiliation. When we say we’re
ready for the baptism of Jesus, we’re saying we are ready even for death.
As we gather
here in Jerusalem today, asking Jesus to show us the way to peace, praying for
him to use the church in the struggle for justice, we must be prepared for what
that requires of us. We must be prepared for what Bishop Younan has often called
the life of martyria – sacrificial witness
for the sake of the Gospel. To be clear, martyria
is not the same as calling for Christians to be martyrs. We do not seek to give
our lives, although we must always be ready if that is what our faith requires
of us.
A life of martyria means suffering the consequences
of boldly living the Gospel of love.
When we
commit to nonviolence – even nonviolent speech – we may be called weak.
When we
commit to dialogue, we may be called collaborators.
When we
commit to mercy and forgiveness, we may be called foolish.
When we
commit to loving our neighbor – all of
our neighbors—we may be called ignorant.
When we
commit to challenging unjust systems and policies, we may be accused of
supporting terrorists.
Are we
really able to do this? Or are we like the sons of Zebedee, still thinking we
can follow Jesus and be popular at the same time? Are we really able to walk
the way of the cross?
It’s a tall
order. But I believe this is what the holy land needs today – people of faith
who are willing to follow Jesus not just to the gates of the city, not just to advocacy
pages on Facebook, not just to the neighborhoods we are comfortable in, and not
just to the meeting rooms of our own organizations, but to the foot of the
cross. The cup which he drinks and the baptism with which he is baptized aren’t
located in our comfort zones.
The life of martyria isn’t easy. And yet we are gifted and empowered by our love for Jesus, with faith in the power of the cross, and with the hope that comes from the resurrection. Jesus didn’t promise James and John the seats at his right and left hand—but he did promise to be with us always, to the end of the age. Therefore we can truly say to our Good Shepherd, the Prince of Peace, “We all like sheep have gone astray. But we are ready to follow now. And we are able.”
The life of martyria isn’t easy. And yet we are gifted and empowered by our love for Jesus, with faith in the power of the cross, and with the hope that comes from the resurrection. Jesus didn’t promise James and John the seats at his right and left hand—but he did promise to be with us always, to the end of the age. Therefore we can truly say to our Good Shepherd, the Prince of Peace, “We all like sheep have gone astray. But we are ready to follow now. And we are able.”
We are able
to pray faithfully.
We are able
to love extravagantly.
We are able
to speak out boldly.
We are able
to withstand criticism, false accusations, criticisms, and even persecution.
With Jesus
by our side, we are able to withstand even the cross.
Thanks be to
God, we are able, for the sake of our neighbors, for the sake of peace with
justice, and for the sake of Jerusalem, to follow Jesus where he leads.
Let us pray:
God of love,
we commit ourselves individually and as a community
to the way
of Christ;
to take up
the cross;
to seek
abundant life for all humanity;
to struggle
for peace with justice and freedom;
to risk
ourselves in faith, hope, and love,
praying that
God’s kingdom may come.
For the
kingdom, the power,
and the
glory are yours,
now and for
ever. Amen.
Yes, I surrender myself to the will of God. Thank you. sermon transcription
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