"Again & Again: We Are Shown the Way" a sermon on John 2:13-22 & 1 Corinthians 1:18-25

John 2:13-22
1 Corinthians 1:18-25
“Again & Again: We Are Shown the Way”
Preached Sunday, March 3, 2024

When I was teaching confirmation at another church a handful of years back - today’s Gospel lesson about Jesus flipping tables was brought into question. And this text is a complex one for people of all ages because there are layers and layers and layers to what is happening in it and then there are the layers and layers and layers of how it has been interpreted historically. And so, it was a big test for me, as a pastor, the first time I had to try and explain to teenage boys why Jesus could flip over tables and chase people with a whip...but he was still sinless and no, they, the youth in my confirmation class, could not do the same. It was definitely a hard one to answer. I’ll consider it a success because the teenagers did not revolt and start overthrowing tables.

Now, the reason behind Jesus’s anger and actions here is important. In our text this morning Jesus yells out, “Stop making my Father’s house a marketplace!” The same story in the book of Matthew calls the temple “a den of thieves” instead of a marketplace. “House of robbers” has also been used.

Now, historically, this has been interpreted to say that those who were selling the animal sacrifices were ripping off the poor - people needed to buy these animals for religious purposes and were being overcharged but they had to buy them...so Jesus flipped the tables and ran people out.

Price gouging could have been happening - but we don’t have historical evidence one way or another. If it was happening, it would certainly be something that Jesus could be angry about. Something we would and should be angry about. As modern readers though we need to look at what was happening in the past and not apply it to modern day Jewish people who too often have related anti-Semitic claims hurled at them.

Jewish New Testament scholar, AJ Levine, gives helpful insight into what “den of thieves” implies. A den of thieves is not the place where the thieves commit acts of robbery, it is the place they retreat to to sort through their plunder. It is a place where they feel safe, where they are not afraid of being found out.

Now, we are taking some liberty here in combining the Gospel tellings of this event - and each Gospel writer had a different aim - and John even puts it in a completely different chronological spot in Jesus’s ministry compared to the other Gospels, at the beginning, not the end: But we’d want to ask, why would people who do unjust things - whether those deeds are done inside the temple or outside the temple - why would they feel safe and secure within its walls when their religion and their God explicitly condemns taking advantage of the poor and commands them to care for the least of these?

But this den of thieves or marketplace can be read or interpreted that power and money and religion and Empire had gotten so tied up with each other that they could not be distinguished from the temple. And thus, their religion could become a mask of respectability to cover corruption of power. Jesus would rightfully be FURIOUS over this. And so should we.

But the point of this sermon is not to focus on the acts of those of a different religion over 2,000 years ago. The point of this sermon today is to look at what Jesus was angry about and ask - would Jesus be angry at us, the Church, for the same reason?

When I am talking about the “Church” here it’s with a Capital C - meaning the Church universal, the Church at large, not just our congregation. With that being said: Has the Church become a den of thieves - a place where those who commit unjust acts feel safe because of the collusion of religion and empire for power?

With a heavy heart, as someone who deeply loves the Church and committed her life’s work to it, yes. In America, especially, being a Christian comes with privilege - because Christianity is the majority religion of the land, Christians are looked upon to be less suspect. Christians have easier times running for political office, buying homes, adopting children. Just being a Christian, especially a WASP - White Anglo-Saxon Protestant, opens doors that are closed to those not in this category. Now, being a Christian does NOT automatically make you powerful but if you claim the title of Christian, it makes power more accessible. That’s an important distinction because there are many Christians who eschew the power and privileges associated with being Christian - choosing instead a life marked by humility, service, and generosity. And yet - many Christians and Churches, especially those who seek power, chose instead the path of Christian nationalism.

Christian nationalism is a heresy that has swept through our churches in America. It is a belief set that proclaims that those in power are in power because they and their power are sanctioned by God. It thus creates a correlation that those in power in a human made government and the acts of God, are one and the same. It also upholds that a particular country or nation is specially blessed by God over others.

Christianity was formed as a minority sect in a minority religion and culture. It was a religion for the last and the least. The downtrodden and forgotten. It was a religion that, inherently, flipped the tables on power, on the narrative of what power is, who wields it, and what it is to be used for. The danger of the collusion of religion and earthly power - in the case of Christian nationalism, of the Church and government, is that, as in a den of thieves, those who commit unjust acts, those who power has corrupted, those who abused power, they feel safe under the sanctimonious title of Christian. For if they claim that mantle and what they do, whether it be right or wrong, if they say it is done in the name of Jesus - well, it is either overlooked, excused, or even justified.

And I know I am referencing high echelons of power - politicians and government. But the wedding of power and the Church can and does happen at every level. We have all, myself included, either sat at or wanted seats at tables that Jesus would have flipped because those tables did not consider those who Jesus commanded us to love - our neighbors, especially the poor, the orphan, the widow, the prisoner.

Okay - deep breaths. This is the season of Lent. The season of Lent is a season for hard truths. It’s a season of calling out injustice. It’s a season of confession and repentance. And it is a season of focusing on the cross.

So to help us make sense of this and get our hearts aligned, let us look at the cross.

The cross and the church are inseparable symbols. And as the church has risen in power and prominence since the time of Jesus, so has the cross. The first Christians did not use the cross in the way we did - they used the symbol of a fish to denote their belonging to The Way, the sect that followed Jesus.

The cross grew in prominence in the year 312 when Constantine had a dream where he said that if they put the cross on their shields, they would win their battle in the Crusades. They did just that. They won the battle. And as Constantine made Christianity the official religion of the empire, wedding Christianity to Empire and power, something that we still struggle to disentangle to this day, the cross became a symbol of power - tied to violence.

We saw a similar misuse of the cross - on the side of committing violence - when in 1915, D.W. Griffith wanted a symbol of power to accompany the glorified history of the Klu Klux Klan in his movie, The Birth of a Nation. Of course, he thought the cross wasn’t powerful enough - so he set it on fire. The KKK adopted this practice after the movie. They say they are burning crosses in celebration...but in celebration of what? In the terror and intimidation of others, especially our Black and Jewish siblings.

In these ways, the Cross has been used as a symbol of violence - and that’s what the cross originally was too. In our day and age we have ornate, beautiful crosses - and as Protestants we don’t generally have crucifixes - that’s crosses with the crucified body of Jesus on them - so we can forgot that the cross was a symbol of power, violence, and torture used by the Roman Empire. The cross was reserved for those who threatened the empire, political insurrectionists, usurpers of the power of the Roman Empire. Jesus, and others alongside him, and others throughout the Roman Empire, were crucified on a hill, just by the entrance to town, so many would see the gruesome fate of those who, well, tried to flip the tables on the powers that be. The cross was a tool of intimidation - don’t act up. Keep your head down. Speak out or act out and this could happen to you, too.

Now, I am NOT saying that Christians need to ditch the cross - hear me on that one. The cross is a beloved symbol to many. It gives us strength and endurance. It brings us comfort. It reminds us of Jesus’s love. Many of us wear crosses as daily jewelry, have them in our houses or places of work, and keep them close to us as a reminder of our faith and the love of God for us. The cross is a symbol of the church - it is a symbol of Christ - it is a powerful symbol - and its origin was as a symbol of intimidation, death, violence.

But Christ, Jesus, when he died on a cross and rose again three days later, he flipped the table on that narrative. He took a symbol of death and made it a symbol of life. He took a symbol of violence and made it a symbol of love. He took a symbol of power and made it a symbol of humility.

When we look to the cross we should see a powerful symbol - a symbol that perverts the narratives of power, a symbol that reminds us that our God is a God who always sides with the powerless over the powered, the humble over the proud, those who love over those who hate. The cross is a symbol that no power is stronger than God - no empire. No nation. No army. No Hate group. Nothing. Not even death.

In other words, the cross is a POWERFUL symbol. But it is not a symbol of power.

Paul in Corinthians calls the message of the cross foolishness. Another translation says moronic. And the cross is foolish. To a world that values power. To a world that wants to use the cross as a symbol of dominance and violence and hate...they don’t get that the power of the cross is in its meekness. In its weakness. In Christ’s death - although no grave could hold him.

Before the cross those who are unjust, those who need to repent, robbers and thieves of all kinds - they should not feel it is a symbol they can hide behind. The cross is a symbol to which we are laid bare before it. Before the cross, Christ knows every part of us. And in the Cross, Christ calling us to repent of violence, power, and hatred - and seek life, humility, and love.

John puts the story of Jesus flipping the tables early in the Gospel...and I think it’s because John is laying the foundation for who Jesus is: Jesus subverts the power structure at every turn. Jesus subverts the violence of the cross - and gives it to us, flipped over, a symbol of life and love. To the rest of the world? This may seem foolish. But Jesus and the cross show us the way, again and again and again - the way of Jesus is a way of peace. It is a way of love. And it is the way of the cross. When we look at the cross - may it lead us to Jesus, again and again and again, pulling us back from tables that Jesus would flip, and into God’s arms.

Amen.

"Will You Give Me A Drink?" a sermon based on John 4:5-42 and Exodus 17:1-7

John 4:5-42
Exodus 17:1-7
“Will You Give Me A Drink?”
Preached Sunday, March 12, 2023

How are you?
Good! And you?
Oh, I’m doing alright!

How many of us have interactions like this every day? In the midwest we use “How are you?” as interchangeable with “hello!” And often, we don’t expect an honest answer, we keep it surface level to be socially acceptable. Common and acceptable answers are:

Good.
I’m well!
Fine.
And even, hanging in there.
Oh, you know…
Or the ever acceptable: Keepin’ busy!

Now, I once heard of a clergy colleague who, for Lent, decided to practice vulnerability. So every time the question was asked, “How are you?” She would answer honestly. And it was hard. People were often so surprised and taken aback and they didn’t know how to respond. Can you imagine when the grocery cashier asked you how you were and you said “Overwhelmed.” Uhhh… how are they going to reply? “Paper or plastic?” There were times where she really didn’t want to answer honestly. When a parishioner asked her how she was doing and it would be so much easier and quicker to say “Fine!” when she was anything but… Of course, I would imagine there were moments where, when she said “Great!” “Grateful.” “Feeling loved.” - the words had more meaning because for her, she knew it was true. And, she found, it gave her a better self awareness of how she was doing. To be able to stop and check in with herself before answering - and it opened up doors for people to be vulnerable and open in return.

Of course, there are times when the reverse is true as well. Just as when we ask “How are you?” and expect a non-vulnerable, surface level answer…there are times we want to ask someone a deeply personal question but are afraid to do so - so we ask them another question that is a softer blow or easier ask.

Can you think of examples from your own personal life?

Perhaps you’ve asked a spouse if they took out the trash when you really want to ask, “Are you still mad at me?” Or asked them if they vacuumed or picked up like you asked them to but really wanted to know if they see how hard you work. Or, “Will you eat dinner with me?” instead of, “Do you still love me?”
Or for parents of teenagers, asking them how their school day was when you really want to ask them if they are depressed and suicidal. “Do you make any new friends today?” when you really want to ask “Are you gay?”
Or for parents of adult children, “What are you doing tonight?” instead of “Is your partner abusive?” Or “How’s the job going?” instead of “Are you really happy?”
Or for those who have older parents - we may ask “How are you?” but unlike when we expect a shallow answer we really want to know, “Are you forgetting things?” “How is your heart?” “How much time do I have left with you?”

I think you get that point and you probably have examples running through your minds - questions you’ve been asked, questions you want to ask, questions you’re too afraid to ask. We ask the easier question because we’re afraid of the real answers, the vulnerable answers. We want to know but we also don’t want to know…and so we ask…without really asking. We skirt around the questions, skirt around being vulnerable with each other.

Let’s take this concept from our lives and look at how it plays out in our Scriptures from this morning. In our reading from Exodus, the Israelites ask for a drink, they ask for water. They even become defensive against Moses - getting angry at him saying he brought them out of Egypt to kill them. But their anger is a shield for asking the question they’re too afraid to ask. They ask for water…because what they really want to ask is, “God, have you abandoned us?” “God, do you still love us? Will you still care for us?” “Are you still our God even now?”

Rev. Danielle Shroyer says this about this Scripture passage in our Seeking Lenten Devotional: “What would it have looked like, I wonder, if the Israelites had instead cried out for God’s assurance? ‘Show us you’re still with us, God,’ they could have prayed with open hearts. ‘We feel alone and unmoored.’ Where could the water have come from, if the question had come from a softer place than the rock of our human defenses?”

God still gave them water - and through the gift of water answered the question they were really asking, “God, do you still love us? Will you still care for us?” And God answers with water: Yes. And still, what could this exchange have looked like if the Israelites were open and honest, vulnerable with God, if they poured their hearts out and God was able to meet them tenderly and lovingly in that desert space…

The Israelites' words are mirrored in Jesus’s words to the Samaritan woman at the well. “Give me a drink.” Unlike the Israelites, who ask for a drink as a way to avoid the questions they really want to ask, when Jesus is asking for a drink, it is an invitation to the Samaritan woman to enter deeper into the conversation, to practice vulnerability, as she draws a drink from the deep well.

Rev. Shroyer continues in our Lenten devotional by saying, “Everything he risks by speaking with her—crossing cultural, religious, and social lines—demonstrates his willingness to be vulnerable. When he asks for what he needs, he shows that even he cannot make it alone. What a risk for the Son of God to be so openly human. And yet, it is this question—and his willingness—that leads to this woman’s transformation. Despite a long list of good reasons why she shouldn’t be vulnerable to anyone, she boldly asks Jesus for living water instead. And she did so fully trusting he would give it.”

Indeed, everything about Jesus’s interaction with this woman exposed vulnerability, his willingness to be open and honest with her, and in doing so, extending an invitation to be real and honest with him.

Jesus offers the same opportunity for us today - for us to meet Jesus in his vulnerability.

Let me say that again: Jesus offers the same opportunity for us today - for us to meet Jesus in his vulnerability.

How does that sentence sit with you? How does the idea of Jesus being vulnerable make you feel? Of God being vulnerable? I think many of us may be initially uncomfortable with this idea of God being vulnerable - we do so much to shore ourselves up from vulnerability - and to shore up our God from vulnerability. Well thought up arguments and comebacks to justify our theology, our participation in church and religion… Not to mention the physical and emotional walls we put up around ourselves. What do you mean that God invites us to meet Jesus in his vulnerability?

That God is vulnerable is the Scandal of the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

That God came in the form of a baby, a vulnerable tiny baby. That God submitted to a human woman: for her to say yes to grow the child of God in her womb, and for that child - for God - to be nurtured, fed, cared for and taught about love - by humans.
And then that vulnerable God child would grow into a God man - who was still vulnerable. Who had vulnerable flesh that could bleed. Vulnerable breath that could stop. A vulnerable body that could be tortured and killed.

Jesus is the essence of God’s vulnerability - that God fully submitted God’s self to our human vulnerability - for God to place the whole life of God’s self in Jesus into the hands of humanity - there is nothing more vulnerable than God in Jesus.

This is the scandal of the Good News - as Jesus talking to the Samaritan woman was a scandal - vulnerability often is scandalous. We want our God to be a strong tower, a fortress, unbreakable… But God in Jesus invites us to be fully human with God, and to be fully human means to be vulnerable with each other.

The God who made God’s self vulnerable with us and for us, *wants* our vulnerability, our openness, our whole messy human selves in return. I am going to say that sentence one more time too: The God who made God’s self vulnerable with us and for us, *wants* our vulnerability, our openness, our whole messy human selves in return.

And, God’s omniscience, that’s the idea that God already knows everything about me - is not an excuse to not be vulnerable with God. God wants us to talk to God. To ask our questions - our real questions. To open our hearts to God, to pour our hearts out, to give God every bit of ourselves - messy vulnerability and all.

As Christians who follow Jesus, we are called to vulnerable lives. To be vulnerable with God, that is, to give our whole selves to God, to hold nothing back from God - and to be vulnerable with each other - and that is, place our lives in each other’s hands. To ask questions that show care and love for another. To allow others into your life, to allow yourself to ask for help and to be helped. To realize that our mutual thriving is in the hands of our neighbor….

The work of vulnerability is hard. Let’s start this practice by focusing our attention onto our vulnerable God and starting there, asking God our questions, the real questions, the ones we’ve been too afraid to ask, even of God. Ask those questions because our God can handle them - and God will meet us in our vulnerability.

May it be so.

Amen.

The Great Thanksgiving For Lent 3A

The Lord be with you.
And also with you.
Lift up your hearts.
We lift them up to the Lord.
Let us give thanks to the Lord our God.
It is right to give our thanks and praise.
God of the Wilderness, it is with thankful hearts that we praise for in all your love and Glory - that you are ever reaching out to us - even in the Wilderness of our hearts.

After Jesus’s baptism, he went into the wilderness to prepare for his ministry and to learn better Who he was, the Son of Man, God incarnate. God enfleshed, living as we live.

We too are in the wilderness in our Lenten journey, too prone to isolating ourselves, too prone to thinking we can do this alone. Save us from ourselves - may we find surprising connection and companionship in you, each other, and our neighbors. Help us experience you in the Wilderness, experience Jesus in our lives.

On his last night with his disciples before his crucifixion, Jesus gathered to eat with his friends. And on that night before Jesus died, when he was gathered together with his disciples, he took bread, gave thanks to you, broke the bread, gave it to his disciples and said:

"Take, eat, this is my body which is given for you,
do this in remembrance of me."

When the supper was over, he took the cup, blessed it, gave it to his disciples and said:

"Drink from this, all of you. This is my blood of the New Covenant,
poured out for you and for many, for the forgiveness of sins.
Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me."

It is in awe and wonder, praise and thanksgiving that we offer ourselves up as a holy and living sacrifice, in union with Christ’s sacrifice for us as we proclaim the mystery of faith:

Christ has died; Christ is risen; Christ will come again.
Holy, Loving God, pour out your Spirit on us gathered here
And on these gifts of bread and juice.
Make them be for us the body and blood of Christ
That we may be for the world the body of Christ, redeemed and reconciling.

Through your Son Jesus Christ,
With the Holy Spirit in your holy church,
All honor and glory is yours, Almighty God,
Now and forever, Amen.