"White Flour" - Palm Sunday 2013

Palm Sunday readings: Luke 19:28-40 and 22:14-23:56 

Research into the traditions of ancient Jerusalem at the time of the Passover tells us that it was the biggest Jewish celebration of the year. People came from all over the known world to be in Jerusalem for the Passover to thank God for all God has done for the people, Israel. We also know that during that same celebration, Pilate held an annual march through town. Pilate, being the local Roman authority, was the ruler of Jerusalem – actually all of Jude and Samaria and Idumea - on behalf of Caesar. As far as he was concerned, these Jews were allowed their little festival only because of his royal benevolence. Yet the Passover had to be a nail-biting season for Pilate. So many Jews came to Jerusalem for the festival, it would be the opportune time for them to raise a rebellion, especially since Passover is a celebration of liberation from a different empire. In fact, there was a history of Jews causing trouble at this particular time. And so, every year, Pilate held an imperial march right at the beginning of Passover. He donned his military vestments, rode his big black horse, and with a legion of men, marched from the west right past the Temple so everyone could see. It was a statement of power.  It was a parade that celebrated rule by fear and force. It was his way of saying, “you can have your little festival, but don’t you forget who exactly is in charge here.”

But this particular year, the year that Jesus came to Jerusalem for Passover, there was a second parade on the first day of Passover. It was a peasant parade. A parade from the east of the city, not regal, not armed. There is only one small animal, a donkey, but hundreds of people have turned up to watch and to shout and celebrate this parade. “Hosanna!” They shouted, “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!” as they threw their cloaks on the road and waved palm branches. This parade was in stark contrast to the other. Pilate’s procession represented the power of violence and fear. Jesus’ parade embodied the power of God’s kingdom active on earth. 

I recently came across a poem based on the true events of May 26, 2007 in Knoxville, Tennessee. 

It’s called “White Flour” and it’s a similar tale of two parades in one town, by David LaMotte. 

The day was bright and sunny as most May days tend to be
In the hills of Appalachia down in Knoxville, Tennessee
A dozen men put on their suits and quickly took their places
In white robes and those tall and pointed hoods that hid their faces
Their feet all fell in rhythm as they started their parade
They raised their fists into the air, they bellowed and they brayed
They loved to stir the people up, they loved when they were taunted
They didn’t mind the anger, that’s precisely what they wanted

As they came around the corner, sure enough, the people roared
They couldn’t quite believe their ears, it seemed to be… support!
Had Knoxville finally seen the light, were people coming ‘round?
The men thought for a moment that they’d found their kind of town
But then they turned their eyes to where the cheering had its source
As one their faces soured as they saw the mighty force
The crowd had painted faces, and some had tacky clothes
Their hair and hats outrageous, each had a red foam nose

The clowns had come in numbers to enjoy the grand parade
They danced and laughed that other clowns had come to town that day
And then the marchers shouted, and the clowns all strained to hear
Each one tuned in intently with a gloved hand to an ear
“White power!” screamed the marchers, and they raised their fisted hands
The clowns leaned in and listened like they couldn’t understand
Then one held up his finger and helped all the others see
The point of all this yelling, and they joined right in with glee

“White flour!” they all shouted and they felt inside their clothes
They pulled out bags and tore them and huge clouds of powder rose
They poured it on each other and they threw it in the air
It got all over baggy clothes and multi-colored hair
All but just a few of them were joining in the jokes
You could almost see the marchers turning red beneath white cloaks
They wanted to look scary, they wanted to look tough
One rushed right at the clowns in rage, and was hauled away in cuffs

But the others chanted louder marching on around the bend
The clowns all marched on too, of course, supporting their new friends
“White power!” came the marchers’ cry — they were not amused
The clowns grew still and thoughtful; perhaps they’d been confused
They huddled and consulted, this bright and silly crowd
They listened quite intently, then one said “I’ve got it now!”
“White flowers!” screamed the happy clown and all the rest joined in
The air was filled with flowers, and they laughed and danced again

“Everyone loves flowers, and white’s a pretty sort
I can’t think of a better cause for marchers to support!”
Green flower stems went flying like small arrows from bad archers
White petals covered everything, including the mad marchers
And then a very tall clown called the others to attention
He choked down all his chuckles, then said “Friends I have to mention
That with all the mirth and fun today it’s sort of hard to hear
But now I know the cause that these strange marchers hold so dear

“Tight showers!” the clown bellowed and he hit his head in wonder
He held up a camp shower and the others all got under
Or at least they tried to get beneath, they strained but couldn’t quite
There wasn’t room for all of them— they pushed, but it was tight
“White Power!” came their marchers’ cry, quite carefully pronounced
The clowns consulted once again, then a woman clown announced
“I’ve got it! I’m embarrassed that it took so long to see
But what these marchers march for is a cause quite dear to me…”

“Wife power!” she exclaimed and all the other clowns joined in
They shook their heads and laughed at how erroneous they’d been
The women clowns were hoisted up on shoulders of the others
Some pulled on wedding dresses, shouting “Here’s to wives and mothers!”
The men in robes were angry and they knew they’d been defeated
They yelled a few more times and then they finally retreated
And when they’d gone a black policeman turned to all the clowns
And offered them an escort to the center of the town

The day was bright and sunny as most May days tend to be
In the hills of Appalachia down in Knoxville, Tennessee
People joined the new parade, the crowd stretched out for miles
The clowns passed out more flowers and made everybody smile
And what would be the lesson of that shiny southern day?
Can we understand the message that the clowns sought to convey?
Seems that when you’re fighting hatred, hatred’s not the thing to use
So here’s to those who march on in their big red floppy shoes

(based on true events of May 26, 2007 – ©2007 David LaMotte)

 You and I, as participants in the alternative kind of parade, and marchers behind Jesus follow the one who did not use his power for fear or fame or even to save his own life. Instead this triumphant entry into Jerusalem becomes in fact a death march leading him directly to the cross. He is the one who sides with the outcast, the marginalized and the oppressed. When hate and fear take to the streets, he is there marching for peace and freedom whether in the year 30 or the year 2007 or this very day, his is the way of peace, justice…and sacrifice.

*Borg, Marcus J. and John Dominic Crossan, The Last Week, Harper Collins, United States, 2006.  pp 2-5

* Check out David Lamotte’s website http://www.davidlamotte.com/white-flour/

Intimate, Extravagant Love - March 17, 2013

John 12:1-84

12Six days before the Passover Jesus came to Bethany, the home of Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. ²There they gave a dinner for him. Martha served, and Lazarus was one of those at the table with him. ³Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus’ feet, and wiped them with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume. ⁴But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (the one who was about to betray him), said, ⁵‘Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?’ ⁶(He said this not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief; he kept the common purse and used to steal what was put into it.) ⁷Jesus said, ‘Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial. ⁸You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.’

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Being totally honest, I have some trouble with this reading, mostly because I generally agree with Judas’ comment – aside from his poor intentions - that the money could have been better spent on the poor. I mean 300 Denarii was the average yearly salary and that could feed a lot of hungry people and shelter a lot of homeless children. Of course, one should always be very wary when she finds herself siding with Judas, even if he is the one making the most sense. 

Our story picks up with a familiar family, Lazarus and his two sisters, Martha and Mary. They live in Bethany which is quite close to Jerusalem. Just days before it seems, though maybe it has been longer, the gospel writer isn’t clear, Lazarus was dead and in the tomb for three whole days when Jesus finally turned up and raised him from the dead. Of course his sisters were thrilled and his friends were amazed, but there were some who doubted the legitimacy of Jesus’ power. So perhaps this is another in a long line of celebratory feasts with friends and relatives. I know if my brother had been dead and now were alive I would throw a party that lasted a month, maybe longer, to celebrate having him back in my life and in my world. And I’d invite everyone he ever knew to come and join us. Who cares if we all have to sleep on the floor and we run out of money to pay for the wine. My brother is alive! And the guy who brought him back?! Well, if he were willing to stay at my house I’d give him the finest of everything I own and he could stay forever. 

John tells us that this is six days before the Passover. That should trigger a little flag in our minds because it was during the Passover that Jesus was betrayed and crucified. It looms large in the future and the shadow of his death already hangs over this would-be happy party. Martha served dinner. We’re reminded of the story of her and Mary in Luke where Jesus tells her Mary’s plan – sitting at his feet and listening to what he has to say – is better than her bustling about the house. But this time, there is no such reprimand. This time, her work to feed him and the other guests, to be the “hostess with the mostess” seems to be the meet and right thing to do. Jesus knows she shows her love by feeding him, not unlike so many grandmother-types, and she’s allowed to do her best for him exactly the way she chooses. 

Lazarus is seated at the table with Jesus. I suppose we could infer some kind of sexist judgment upon him, that he ought to be helping serve or something, but I think this is the right place for him. Again, if my brother had just risen from the dead he would get a buy on housework for at least a while. Besides, this dinner part may be for Jesus, but let’s be honest, everybody is there to get a good look at Lazarus too. He just rose from the dead for crying out loud! Don’t you want to know what he looks like? If his mind still works the same? What his stories are from beyond the grave? If he smell okay? Even with Jesus there, Lazarus is at least the co-star of this evening. 

That is, until Mary comes in and unexpectedly steals the spotlight. Tables in ancient Palestine sat only a little way off the floor and people reclined next to them supporting themselves with one arm and eating with the other. So Mary comes into the room and takes her place at the end of Jesus’ reclined body, at his feet which would be pointed away from the table. Women generally didn’t cut their hair in those days, and always kept it bound up. In fact, it was inappropriate for any man to see a woman’s hair down unless he was the woman’s husband. So to let down her hair for Jesus was a very intimate act. Now, anointing is not such an uncommon thing to do in the ancient world. Kings were anointed, the sick were anointed, the dying were anointed, even sacrifices were occasionally anointed. But anointing feet seems to combine the sacred act of anointing with the servant act of washing feet. Add in the intimacy of the hair down and the cost of the particular perfume she used and this becomes a very unique, very extravagant act. And soon the room is filled with the scent of the perfume and all eyes watch her stunned and a little bit in awe. Some in the room are wondering what on earth she’s doing. Some are thinking, “how beautiful! Look how she loves him!” And then there’s Judas, and me, and maybe some of the rest of you thinking, “Wow. There goes a year’s worth of income. Do you have any idea what we could have done with that?” 

And then Jesus drops that line, that difficult, murky, make-me-feel-like-a-traitor line, “You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.” What does he mean?! Does he mean, “Don’t give to the poor?” Does he mean one way of honoring him is better than another? Because the thing is, I buy into the idea that taking care of the poor is at least one of THE most righteous and important ways of showing my love for God. For me it’s a question of stewardship. And I think the Bible is really clear about what to do with money – give it away. Don’t spend it on stuff that doesn’t last. Spend it on the stuff that is important. And for me, that means spending it on making better the lives of those less fortunate than I am. 

In studying for my sermon preparation this week I came across a little blurb from Ray Brown who is kind of THE New Testament scholar in the circles I run in. He explained that in the time of Jesus there were different schools of thought in Judaism, just like there are now and not so dissimilar to our denominations. So in rabbinic theology, of the time, there were two classifications of good works, mercy and justice. Mercy included things like anointing the dead, and justice included things like almsgiving. And in rabbinic theology, merciful acts were seen as more perfect than justice acts.[i] Now, this is not necessarily the view of all of scripture, but the first hearers of John’s gospel would have known this distinction. And they would have agreed that when you have Jesus in your midst, and you are able to anoint him for his forthcoming burial, or really for any reason, you do it. That devotion, that lavish act of fidelity, that over-the-top outpouring – literally – of adoration for Jesus was in that moment absolutely the right thing to do. It was, in Biblical terms, a sacrifice of praise. 

Hebrews 13:15 talks about a “sacrifice of praise,” along with many of the Psalms. It isn’t a term we use much in this particular expression of the Christian faith, though others of Christ’s body do. It comes out of a Jewish tradition to give a “friendship offering” to God, as a sign of thankfulness for the good things God and has done and for the close relationship enjoyed with God.[ii] One simple way to do that is always to praise God for every good thing and to do it not only privately in prayer, but in our conversations and communications. It rolls right off the tongue for some folks, “praise be” they say, or, “alle…” well you know that word we don’t say during Lent. For some of the rest of us it feels weird or a little cheap. 

But it raises the question, the question to which I think this story means to point us: How do we express our love for the One who gives us life? Put another way, how do we lavish our devotion on Christ? 

Last week we read the story often called “The Prodigal Son.” We remembered that prodigal does not have a negative or positive connotation it simply means to lavishly spend and so both the son and the father are prodigal. And thus, God is prodigal in lavishing God’s love on us. 

This week, Mary is the prodigal one. She spares nothing to lavish her love upon Jesus. She spends a years’ salary in one fluid motion. She throws propriety to the wind and lets down her hair. She risks her family and friends judging her to be reckless and unseemly. She even risks her relationship with her family and friends by behaving with such seeming abandon. 

But Mary’s love for Jesus is intimate and extravagant and she cannot help but spend her money and her reputation on giving it to him. 

And so, we come back to the question at hand, How do you express your love for the One who gives you life? My hope for us, my prayer for each of you is that everything you do is an expression of love for God. Everything. From your waking moment to your snoring moment. From your morning shower to your evening tooth brushing. Your love for God is clear in the way you treat coworkers and friends. Your love for God shines in the way you behave with family and with strangers. Your love for God is evident in the decisions you make about spending money and time. In your voting and your driving and your cooking and your cleaning and your volunteering and your working and every little thing you spend time doing.

And it matters, brothers and sisters. It matters. It matters to Jesus not in a you-better-lavish-your-love-on-me-or-go-to-hell kind of way. It matters in a this-is-what-it-means-to-have-abundant-life kind of way. It matters that we lavish our love on him with our words and our actions, with our hearts and minds, with everything we have and everything we are because he loved us first. His love is with us in our deepest darkness and in our brightest hours. He lavishes the purest, truest love on us with every breath we take when we’re at our best and when we’re at our worst. To live in the assurance of that kind of love, to live with confidence that that kind of love even exists in the world at all – that is gift, that is grace, that is abundant life. And that is the life God desires for every single created being on the face of the earth that ever was and ever will be. 

With that as our core truth, money and reputation seem like pretty small concerns. 

Praise be.

---

[i] Raymond Brown, The Gospel According to John I-XII, page 449

[ii] http://bible.cc/hebrews/13-15.htm

Sermon March 3, 2013

Luke 13:1-9

13At that very time there were some present who told him about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices. ²He asked them, ‘Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans? ³No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did. ⁴Or those eighteen who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them—do you think that they were worse offenders than all the others living in Jerusalem? ⁵No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did.’
6 Then he told this parable: ‘A man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard; and he came looking for fruit on it and found none. ⁷So he said to the gardener, “See here! For three years I have come looking for fruit on this fig tree, and still I find none. Cut it down! Why should it be wasting the soil?” ⁸He replied, “Sir, let it alone for one more year, until I dig round it and put manure on it. ⁹If it bears fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you can cut it down.” ’

This reading is a bit of an anomaly in the gospel of Luke. If it were in Matthew’s gospel, it would seem to fit in a bit more. Matthew’s gospel is the one that has all the threats about, “IF YOU DON’T REPENT YOU’LL BE THROWN INTO THE OUTER DARKNESS WHERE THERE IS WEEPING AND GNASHING OF TEETH.” Luke doesn’t usually go that route. His gospel is more joyful, less threatening. But this story, at least on first read, doesn’t seem like the joyful Jesus we all love and wish to follow.

This is a two-part reading but all part of a much longer speech, or really more of a question and answer period with Jesus and a large crowd. We’re in the part of Luke’s gospel now when Jesus is really pushing the envelope. In these chapters he is causing folks to question everything. Just before this portion of the speech he tells the story of a rich but foolish farmer who chooses to store up things for himself instead of be rich toward God. Then he challenges his listeners to not worry about their lives and reminds them that where their treasure is, there is the heart as well. He warns them to always be alert for signs of the kingdom and that from the one who has been entrusted with much, much will be asked, and finally that he is bringing division and not peace. In reality, all of these things are difficult to hear from Jesus. I’m not entirely sure why the crowds stuck around through this challenging speech. But if they did, they will find themselves questioning everything, their values and the values of the culture, what is really important in life, what God intends for us and from us. 

By the time Jesus gets to the question about the Galileans he’s really on a roll so he challenges the long-held belief that bad things happen to people because they deserve it. Like Pilate was especially cruel to that group of Galileans because they were particularly bad sinners. Or the freak accident of that tower falling on and killing a group of 18 people happened because that group deserved divine punishment more than anyone else. 

It’s a common problem for humans to want more control over our lives than we actually have and so very often we try to find something or someone to blame, even for things completely out of our control. It still happens. Remember Jerry Fallwell after 9/11/2001 or Pat Robertson after hurricane Katrina? They blamed senseless tragedy on particular communities of people, pointing fingers at what they called deviance from an originally Godly America. These days we have hurricane Sandy and the Sequestration – to name only a few - to use as fuel for more fires of blame. And that does not yet include the incidences of personal tragedy like violent abuse and illness that are all too often blamed on the victim. 

To all of that Jesus says, look – tragedy happens and you can’t go blaming the victim or victims for it thinking that you’ll be exempt because of your superior moral living. That’s not how this works. Tragedy happens and it’s terrible and we’re all subject to it. Life is too complex to be limited by simple cause and effect rules. “Also?” he says, “repent.” 

Now to me, it seems like this last admonition to repent is a contradiction to the rest of what Jesus just said. Why threaten me with a death like these when you just said that these deaths were not caused by sin?

Well it is important to remember that in Greek, the word “repent” means to do a complete turn-around, a total 180. Repenting has to do with facing one direction, realizing it is the wrong one and turning completely around, turning one’s face toward God, not one’s backside. In the context of this long speech Jesus is making it means doing a lot of things that are different from our nature. It means being rich toward God and not storing things up for ourselves. It means not worrying so much about our bodily needs and spending more time with our hearts focused on God. It means knowing that much will have to be sacrificed and there may even be conflict but ultimately that a relationship with God brings more joy than anything else. This parable of the fig tree is meant to teach just that. God continues to come to us, tending to us, loving us, caring for us, and when we repent, when we turn around, we see that God is and always has been there and we can bask in the joy of a loving relationship with God. 

The threat of this parable is not so much, “repent or you’ be thrown into the fiery furnace,” and more “repent or this is the joy you’ll miss!” So often in other Gospels especially it’s threatening with death or hell or some other terrible calamity. And for me, that’s just not very persuasive. It is similar for me with other disciplines like eating right or exercising. The threat of heart disease or other malady, very real though they may be, doesn’t make me want to change my eating and exercising habits. On the other hand, the renewed energy I feel when I get on the elyptical for a few days in a row, or the alertness I have in the middle of the day when I’ve eaten a protein rich breakfast instead of donuts, well that makes a difference.

Perhaps more to the point, I read a story recently about a social worker who was also a part-time seminary student. In his first year he took a Spiritual Formation class in which they learned about and practiced many different spiritual disciplines. Over Christmas break they were each to spend one hour a day reading aloud from one book of Scripture and then praying over its connection to their lives. So every night he would come home from work, eat dinner, take his beagle, Sadie, out for a walk, watch some TV and then at 10:30 he would turn off the TV, settle himself on the couch to read and pray. Well over the two weeks that his wife was gone, he was very faithful about the practice and Sadie the beagle joined him, sitting next to him on the couch each night. 

Soon, though the habit was interrupted. The man had a long day at work, got home late and didn’t feel like praying. So when 10:30 rolled around he kept watching TV. And you know what? Sadie the beagle, realized what was happening and started tugging on his pants leg to remind him what time it was. Another night, he got home exhausted and went to bed early, but Sadie paced back and forth on the floor next to the bed until he got up to read and pray. 

For some reason it is very easy for us to forget about the joy we have when we live a life firmly rooted in God. We forget about the joy in the presence of God. We forget what it’s like to use the Spiritual gifts God has given us. We tend to turn our backs on God. This story is like Sadie the beagle, pacing back and forth, tugging on our pants, reminding us to repent, turn around. Reminding us of the joy we have in relationship with God, that God is always giving us another chance, another year, more air to breathe, more fertilizer to help us grow. God doesn’t give up on us. 

Woman who Molleen knew – lived in an inner city neighborhood in Saginaw. It was rough, the buildings were not well maintained, a few were boarded up, trash lined the sidewalks and streets which were cracked and potholed. She had an idea that if it looked a little bit nicer, maybe people would take a little more pride in their neighborhood. Maybe people would take care of their lawns and then, maybe, just maybe they’d take care of each other. So, she planted a curb garden in that square of land between where the sidewalks cross and the corner of the curb. She planted flowers and a few veggies too. The next day when she came out, the garden had been trampled. Plants smashed and uprooted and dirt all over the sidewalks. So, she planted again. And the same thing happened. And again she planted and again the garden was trampled. Now, a person with less gumption, or maybe we could call it hope, might have given up. But this woman planted again and then stayed up to see who it was ruining the neighborhood beauty. Well that night she saw that it was the neighbor kids across the street. They were young, too young to be out at that hour of the night. But it was pretty likely the grown-ups in their life were working two and three shifts trying to make ends meet. 

The next day, she went out to plant again and saw the kids outside. So she called them over. But instead of yelling at them or calling the cops, she took them to the garden and explained what each plant was called, what it needed to grow, if it had a use, what kind of sun and soil and water regimen it liked. A few days later, those same kids asked if they could have a few of her plants to plant in their own yard. 

Jesus does cause us to question our values and the values of our culture. This Lenten season is a great time to ask ourselves, what is really important in life and what it is that GOD wants for our lives. Jesus does not promise that a repentant life will be easy or even that it will make sense all the time. But he does promise a loving relationship with God and the grace to keep bearing the fruit we were born to bear.