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From the Pulpit:
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 The Rev. Margaret Waters |
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Every Monday morning, as soon
as I send Sunday’s sermon off to My first homiletics professor told us early on that our parishioners come to us hungry and that it is our job to feed them, but to remember that sometimes there just isn’t anything better than a good grilled cheese sandwich. Basically he was telling us that we couldn’t and wouldn’t hit it our of the park every time, but even if we just hit a single, we can make it a good one. And he reminded us that in baseball a .300 average is mighty fine. So imagine my amazement, when I turned to one of the most inspiring online conversations, and a preaching guru said of today’s lessons that she highly recommends asking a guest preacher to take this one. In other words, a tongue in cheek suggestion that she’d rather not touch these texts with a ten foot pole. She then went on and said that clearly there was no choice but to preach on the Hebrews reading. I will preach on Hebrews. I absolutely adore Hebrews, but not this week. I can’t let Jesus get away with what he says here. Actually, I can’t let us slam him for the conclusions we jump to. I do not think that this is a grouchy, mean, or antagonistic Jesus. Quite the opposite. This is a Jesus who loves us with a fury. I’m going to begin, though, with another gospel. One you might not be familiar with. Maybe you know that in 1945 some Egyptian peasants who were out in the desert digging for fertilizer discovered a huge jar filled with ancient manuscripts. Biblical scholars had heard of some of these – the Gospel of Thomas, the Gospel of Philip, of Truth, the First and Second Apocalypse of James – but I’m not going to talk about any of these either. I’m going to talk about the Gospel according to Martha. (1) It is a delightful children’s book called Martha Speaks. Martha is Helen’s dog, and when Helen gave her the alphabet soup she didn’t want to eat, the letters accidentally went to Martha’s brain instead of her stomach and suddenly Martha could talk. At first it was all fun and games as Helen and her family freaked out their friends and the pizza delivery guy, but it quickly became apparent that there was a downside to Martha’s new trick. Martha didn’t understand when not to tell the truth, and Martha didn’t know when to stop talking. Pretty soon everybody was mad at Martha, and so all together they said, “Martha, won’t you please…” and here is what it looks like, how loud they said it…“SHUT UP!” Martha was crushed. She curled up under the kitchen table and wouldn’t eat her alphabet soup. Her family was so worried they called the vet. “What’s wrong with your dog?” the vet asked. “She won’t talk,” said Helen’s dad, and the vet said, “Is this some kind of joke?” I’ll tell you that this gospel has a happy ending, but this story came to mind for me when I read Luke’s gospel. We love having Jesus around when he’s all huggy-snuggy, when he’s healing sick people and telling interesting stories, when he’s telling us how much God loves us and wants to give us the kingdom. But Jesus is a lot like Martha. He doesn’t know when not to tell the truth so that we can keep our self esteem on the steady rise and he doesn’t know when to keep an unpleasant thought to himself. Jesus starts out by telling the disciples that he has come to set the place on fire. That can’t be good. Suddenly they are hearing judgment language, and it can be downright scary. We like Jesus as our homie, our boyfriend, our buddy, but the kingdom doesn’t come without judgment. In the Gospel of Thomas, Jesus says, “Whoever is near me is near fire; whoever is distant from me is distant from the kingdom.” (2) You want the kingdom, you get judgment, you get fire. The irony is, of course, that when the fire does indeed come to the disciples, it comes at Pentecost as the baptism of the holy spirit. In the blessing at the end of our Sunday worship we pray that God take our hearts and set them on fire. The disciples on the road to Emmaus say to each other, “Were not our hearts burning within us while he was speaking to us?” Fire is fury and passion. It is out of control. Now here comes the really hard part, the part that makes my colleague want to hand over the sermon duties for the week to the lowest man on the totem pole. Jesus says he is coming to turn families against each other. Look around you at the people you love. Your sons and daughters, parents, sisters and brothers in this parish family. Do you really think that Jesus wants you to turn against them? No. Remember, Jesus wants us to love even our enemies. So my understanding is not that Jesus is coming with the desire to upset the applecart. It is rather that he knows that the radical love and hospitality that is the incarnation of the kingdom among us is going to have fallout. He understands human nature so fully that he knows that not everybody is going to buy into his project. He will be sad but not surprised when the rich young ruler chooses to go back to his fortunes rather than follow him on the kingdom path. There will be plenty of people who will turn against him and against the people they love who choose to follow the kingdom’s way. I want to tell you briefly
about a wonderful school. The They say to parents, “Your primary purpose is not to have a relationship with your children. Your primary purpose is to help your children connect with their unique potential.” Truth over harmony. Try that for a week. See who tells you to please just keep it to yourself. Jesus is on board here. He is not here to be our buddy, our boyfriend, our homie. He is here to help us to
understand who God created us to be, and even if the truth is hard to
hear, even if it hurts, even
if it scares us he is going to tell it to us straight. When Jesus ends his tirade by sweeping his arm towards the clouds above. He says, “You know how to interpret the appearance of earth and sky, but why do you not know how to interpret the present time?” Open your eyes, he says. You are intelligent. Put two and two together and see what is happening. Be ready. I have to tell you that I don’t much like pictures of Jesus as judge. I think of Heironimus Bosch paintings of people writhing in hell, but the deal is that Jesus doesn’t want people there. Jesus’ heart breaks when people don’t follow him, when they don’t choose the kingdom, when they can’t handle the truth. Jesus is frustrated when we can’t see the world as it is, when we cling to our rose colored glasses, the little lies that keep us from taking the leap with him. But here’s the deal – if we are in fact going to be judged, if there are consequences to the choices we make in life, who would you rather have judge you? This is the Jesus who coaxed Zacchaeus out of the tree. This is the Jesus who rescued the woman caught in adultery. This is the Jesus who knows us better than we know ourselves and loves us better than we love ourselves and forgives us far more than we would ever forgive ourselves. This is Jesus who waves his arm towards the sky above and says, “Look! Can’t you interpret what is before your eyes? This is God’s creation. The kingdom of heaven has come among you, it is within you.” So we are radically invited to embrace the truth. To open our hearts to God’s promise. Your mom may not like it. Your best friend may turn away. It’s a guarantee that the empire will flex its muscles, but the harmony that comes from God’s truth is eternal. And Jesus will never leave us to walk alone. Amen. (1) Martha Speaks by Susan
Meddaugh |
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