God's Kingdom Revealed: Real Power

Today’s story is a continuation of last week’s story as the chief priests take Jesus from Caiaphas and deliver him to Pilate. If we were to create a drama out of this two-part story, Pilate’s headquarters, or praetorium, would be staged in two parts. 

The first part would be set outside. On the left is the pathway where Jesus has just been questioned by the high priest. We also have in view the fireside where Peter denied Jesus.

This path leads to a simple but open outdoor space for groups to stand under the night sky. The corners of this space are lit by torchlight, perfect for conversation.

At the front of the stage is a single seat. It’s the judgment seat. 

There is a great door that divides this side of the stage from the other side, which is inside. Inside is a walled space, still in the open air. One side of this space is set for conversation with a pallet, or a reclining chair for Pilate to lay on. The other side of this interior space is busy, with military equipment hanging on the walls. Crates stacked for storage. And in its center there is a flogging post standing ready for use.

With this imagery in mind, we read from the Holy Gospel, according to John.

Then Pilate had Jesus taken and whipped. The soldiers twisted together a crown of thorns and put it on his head, and dressed him in a purple robe. Over and over they went up to him and said, “Greetings, king of the Jews!” And they slapped him in the face.

Pilate came out of the palace again and said to the Jewish leaders, “Look! I’m bringing him out to you to let you know that I find no grounds for a charge against him.” When Jesus came out, wearing the crown of thorns and the purple robe, Pilate said to them, “Here’s the man.”

When the chief priests and their deputies saw him, they shouted out, “Crucify, crucify!”

Pilate told them, “You take him and crucify him. I don’t find any grounds for a charge against him.”

The Jewish leaders replied, “We have a Law, and according to this Law he ought to die because he made himself out to be God’s Son.”

When Pilate heard this word, he was even more afraid. He went back into the residence and spoke to Jesus, “Where are you from?” Jesus didn’t answer. So Pilate said, “You won’t speak to me? Don’t you know that I have authority to release you and also to crucify you?”

Jesus replied, “You would have no authority over me if it had not been given to you from above. That’s why the one who handed me over to you has the greater sin.” From that moment on, Pilate wanted to release Jesus.

However, the Jewish leaders cried out, saying, “If you release this man, you aren’t a friend of the emperor! Anyone who makes himself out to be a king opposes the emperor!”

When Pilate heard these words, he led Jesus out and seated him on the judge’s bench at the place called Stone Pavement (in Aramaic, Gabbatha). It was about noon on the Preparation Day for the Passover. Pilate said to the Jewish leaders, “Here’s your king.”

The Jewish leaders cried out, “Take him away! Take him away! Crucify him!”

Pilate responded, “What? Do you want me to crucify your king?”

“We have no king except the emperor,” the chief priests answered. Then Pilate handed Jesus over to be crucified. --John 19:1-16a (CEB)

In keeping with our theme of the unexpected today, I’d like to invite you to pull out the yellow insert in your bulletins. Turn to the side that is opposite the Easter flower order form. No, I’m not preaching on Easter flowers today. Well, not until our time of announcements. Instead, flip to the other side that’s entitled, “Chiasm: Jesus Before Pilate.”

The entire story of Jesus before Pilate - the story we began last Sunday and that is continuing to today - is set up as a chiasm. A chiasm is a common rhetorical device used in ancient Greek writing where lines or scenes unfold and then are repeated in reverse order. Creating a parallel format. It gets its name because the structure takes the shape of the Greek letter chi, which looks like an X for us. Do you notice, as you look at the insert, the X-shape?

The story of Pilate and Jesus, which begins in Chapter 18, consists of seven scenes. If we look at this story carefully, we notice that there is one scene that stands at the center of the X. It stands alone. It has no parallel or corresponding scene. In Greek rhetoric, this stand alone scene is something to pay attention to. Because that portion of the story has special thematic significance. On the insert, this scene is marked with a D.

But, before we dig into this particular scene, let’s look at the others and how they parallel each other. We can often gain insight into other themes or points of emphasis.  We can see, for example, that in the two B sections, Pilate and Jesus have extended discussions. One is about kingship. The other is explicitly about power.

If we look at the C sections, we see that in both of these scenes, Pilate is trying to assert his power or to use the system to escape the entire situation. In both of these scenes, the Jewish religious leaders (who, interestingly, claim to be without power) win out. In the C scene in chapter 18, they call for the release of Barabbas instead of Jesus. In today’s C scene, in chapter 19, they bring a charge that sends Pilate into a great state of fear that causes him to reconsider his judgment. What is that the religious leaders say that causes Pilate such fear? “He claimed to be the Son of God.” Pilate realizes that this situation might jeopardize his position of power. The title, Son of God, was used for Caesar. And for someone to claim that they were the Son of God was much closer to sedition against the Roman empire than calling someone the King of the Jews.

And, then, in the A scenes, this potential threat to Pilate’s power becomes even more explicit, when in today’s A scene, the religious leaders say to him, “If you release this man, you are no friend of the emperor.” Pilate already knows what happens to those "Friends of Caesar" who fall out of favor. One of his mentors just a year or two before this moment had been executed on the charge of sedition. So, yes. There is good reason for Pilate to be afraid. To fear losing his power. And, perhaps, even his life.

So, he caves. Giving into the religious leaders who, throughout this story, have claimed they have no power. Yet, they are the ones who, at least on the story level, are clearly controlling the situation.

Power, once again, is central to the story.

But, while our attention has been drawn to Pilate, we do well to remember that, throughout the gospel of John, Jesus has always been in control of his own fate. He has moved toward this moment as an act of his own will. We are now at the cusp of the climax that the entire John narrative has been moving toward - the moment when Jesus will be lifted up.

Now, let’s look at the D section. It’s the central and most important part of the chiasm, the opening lines of our text today. It is a coronation scene - a coronation scene that is not like that of Queen Elizabeth, which we remembered this week. Instead, this coronation scene begins with Pilate having the soldiers whip Jesus. Who then place a crown on Jesus’ head. Not a crown of gold encrusted with diamonds, but one that has been woven from thorns. They then place a purple robe on his shoulders, the color marked for royalty. Over and over, they come up to him saying, “Greetings, King of the Jews.” And, then, rather than bowing down to him, they slap him. Over and over and over again. 

Our human eyes might view this scene as Jesus’ weakest moment. But, in truth, in the gospel of John, this is Jesus’ most powerful and victorious moment, even as the soldiers mock Jesus as a defeated king, who has failed in his Messianic claim. Throughout this episode, Jesus has remained stoic, knowing that the systems of power at work both in the temple and in the empire - the systems that seek to keep people divided in order to maintain power - that these systems of power are way too small for his plans. 

Power, once again, is central to the story. 

But, who has the real power in this story? Is it the religious leaders who feel so threatened by this Jesus that they must have him killed? Is it Pilate, fearful of being called a seditionist, of losing his seat of power? It’s interesting to note that just a few years later, Caiaphas, the chief priest loses his power, dismissed because of growing public dissatisfaction that he has gotten too close to Rome. And then in just a few more years, Pilate will die. And although the circumstances surrounding his death are somewhat of a mystery and source of contention, whether he committed suicide or was executed by the Roman emperor for his conversion to Christianity, Pilate, too, loses his position of power. 

So, what about us? Now I’m not saying that any of us will be executed for our own need to hold onto power. But we, in the Church, need to notice how and why we exert power. 

Yesterday, in our Saturday morning discussion, we watched a video by Father Greg Boyle. Those of you at Grace & Glory might remember him, I’ve mentioned him before. He is a Jesuit priest working in East Los Angeles, one of the most gang-infested areas of the city. Over the past several decades, he has worked to cross the boundaries and to build a community that welcomes everyone in, with all their tattoos, their prison records. Their brokenness.

You see, it’s our very human tendency to put up barriers. To demonize others. To - in our fear and anxiety about the future - to try to control everything, to seek to hold onto power. The result is that we build barriers between us and other people. We create them right here in this place. We are really no different than the characters in our story, little Caiaphuses and Pilates, who create a God that looks and acts like them instead of a God who looks and acts like Jesus. Jesus, as he stands there, whipped and mocked by the soldiers in all of his humility, yet at his most powerful and victorious.

This Church, with a capital C, is not about us. But about Jesus. And about his kingdom. A kingdom that comes to us in the most unexpected ways. That comes to us when we grow deeper in community and in relationship with God and with one another. When we welcome others in. Because it’s really hard to demonize someone who you know. 

But, in the end, the kingship of Jesus isn’t about power. But about kinship. It’s a vision of an expansive kinship, where all are welcomed and loved, where barriers are dismantled, where humility brings the ultimate victory and power, and where there is no longer “us” and “them,” but only “us.”

This is the astonishing nature of God’s kingdom. May we join in and may we be open to the unexpected. Amen.

Preached April 3, 2022, at Grace & Glory, Prospect, with Third, Louisville, and New Goshen Presbyterian, Prospect.

5th Sunday in Lent

Readings: John 19:1-16a; Psalm 146

 

Journey to the Cross: True Repentance

Let me begin today by saying, up front, that these are hard texts. They are often avoided by us because, in part, they raise the difficult question of why human tragedies occur and why people suffer. And, in this particular moment, as we are living through a very difficult and dark time, reflecting on why there is suffering may hit very close to home. We have just passed a horrendous milestone in this pandemic. Half a million people dead in our nation. Two and a half million fathers, mothers, sons, daughters lost across the world. Why? We might ask. Why did they have to die? What evil did they do to cause this? What evil did I do to cause this? Why did they die and not me? 

When we experience human tragedy like this past year and at other times, asking these questions is natural and human. And quite impossible to answer. This is why we tend to stay away from this part of Luke. Because it raises hard questions. And, because, it gives us no ready-made answers. 

But, today, as we journey, we will attempt to understand what Jesus is teaching his disciples. And us. We read in Luke, chapter 13. Today, I am reading from the Common English Bible.

Some who were present on that occasion told Jesus about the Galileans whom Pilate had killed while they were offering sacrifices. He replied, “Do you think the suffering of these Galileans proves that they were more sinful than all the other Galileans? No, I tell you, but unless you change your hearts and lives, you will die just as they did. What about those eighteen people who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them? Do you think that they were more guilty of wrongdoing than everyone else who lives in Jerusalem? No, I tell you, but unless you change your hearts and lives, you will die just as they did.” --Luke 13:1-5 (CEB)

As the story begins, Jesus continues on his way to Jerusalem. He’s been teaching the many disciples who are following him about what it means to be faithful people. In the midst of this, someone comes and tells Jesus of a gruesome crime that Pilate has perpetrated. 

We know the name. Pontius Pilate, although often referred to as the Roman governor of Judea, is more correctly the commander of the Roman auxiliary troops based in Judea to maintain control over the Jewish people. There is little known about Pilate other than that he has a reputation of greed, cruelty, and inflexibility.  He treated Jewish customs and religious beliefs with contempt and would deliberately provoke the Jewish people by placing Roman military flags in the temple and by confiscating the temple treasury, things that his predecessors had avoided. 

So, what’s the crime that Pilate has committed as it’s reported to Jesus? Pilate has killed worshipers in the temple who have traveled all the way from Galilee in the north to Jerusalem in the south, to offer their sacrifices before God. To make matters worse, the blood of these faithful has run together with the blood of the sacrifices they have offered. So, it was not only murder, but also a sacrilege. It might bring to mind for us the assassination of Archbishop Thomas Becket in the Middle Ages, while he was in Canterbury Cathedral. Or, in more recent times, of the murder of Archbishop Oscar Romero as he conducted communion in a church in El Salvador. 

Now, let’s be honest here. We know, as we read through Luke, that there is little love lost between the people of Judea and the Galileans. Many Jews viewed those in Galilee as second-rate Jews, somewhere between true Jews and heathen Gentiles. So, those making the report are, actually, raising several questions in one. First, the age-old question of the reason for such meaningless suffering. But, there’s also a suggestion here that what has happened to the Galileans has, in some respect, been deserved, because they were viewed as less faithful than other Jews. It’s why Jesus asks the question, “Do you think that these Galileans were worse sinners than other Galileans?” And then, it’s why he sharpens the question, bringing it closer to home by referring to another incident in Jerusalem. “Do you think that the eighteen people on whom the tower of Siloam fell and killed deserved it because they were more sinful than others in Jerusalem?”

Now, we may think that we think differently than this. But I wonder if we do. How many of us, when we’ve seen people suffering from famine in another country, wonder just for a moment if this might be happening because of something they did or didn't do. Or when we see suffering in the inner city, we wonder if it's because of their sin and the life mistakes they've made. Or what about the poor. And the commonly held belief that I often hear expressed that, if they’d only made better choices. What’s the right choice when one has to choose between paying the rent or putting food on the table?

Jesus takes it one step further, then, in the text, to show us that we are posing the question in the wrong way. The surprising thing is not that so many die, but that we still live. Because, if it were a matter of sin, we would all be dead. Twice, Jesus says, “Unless you repent, you will all likewise perish.” And, then he tells a parable, which is where we continue in our reading.

Jesus told this parable: “A man owned a fig tree planted in his vineyard. He came looking for fruit on it and found none. He said to his gardener, ‘Look, I’ve come looking for fruit on this fig tree for the past three years, and I’ve never found any. Cut it down! Why should it continue depleting the soil’s nutrients?’ The gardener responded, ‘Lord, give it one more year, and I will dig around it and give it fertilizer. Maybe it will produce fruit next year; if not, then you can cut it down.’” --Luke 13:6-9 (CEB)

What’s the meaning of this parable for Jesus’ listeners? It means that those who survive - the Galileans not killed by Pilate, or those Jews on whom the tower did not fall, or those of us who have not died from famine, or those who are not poor - are living only by the grace of God. And that our continued life is for the purpose of bearing fruit.

Now this passage is often used by those who preach the “prosperity gospel.” That the good things we receive are a reward for our faith and our fruitfulness. But, in fact, the truth Jesus speaks here is exactly the opposite. Notice that the fig tree that is receiving special care is getting it because it has yet to give the fruit it was meant to bear. It’s a reminder for us who live in comfortable houses, when so many are homeless, or enjoy a substantial income when so many are poor, or all kinds of food to eat when so many are hungry, or a relatively healthy body when so many are ill - that we have all of this not because we have been particularly faithful. And could it be that the reason why some of us have been given all these advantages is that, without them, we would have difficulty bearing fruit? Could it also be that our apparent advantages and privileges are also a warning about impending doom unless we bear fruit?

Repentance - true repentance - is less about shame and guilt and more about begging the Holy Spirit to turn us around. To help us reorient how we think. And how we live. Because our tendency is not much different as was the tendency of people in Jesus’ day.

Our reading continues in chapter 13. 

At that time, some Pharisees approached Jesus and said, “Go! Get away from here, because Herod wants to kill you.”

Jesus said to them, “Go, tell that fox, ‘Look, I’m throwing out demons and healing people today and tomorrow, and on the third day I will complete my work. However, it’s necessary for me to travel today, tomorrow, and the next day because it’s impossible for a prophet to be killed outside of Jerusalem.’

“Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets and stone those who were sent to you! How often I have wanted to gather your people just as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings. But you didn’t want that. Look, your house is abandoned. I tell you, you won’t see me until the time comes when you say, Blessings on the one who comes in the Lord’s name.” --Luke 13:31-35 (CEB)

Jesus knows our tendencies. It’s why, no matter the threat that Herod represents, he will continue his journey to Jerusalem, even as he laments the city’s disobedience. Because his desire is to give them another chance. Just as with the fig tree, also given a second chance. And like us, too. Given another chance purely by the grace of God in Jesus Christ. May we, nurtured by the love and care of Jesus, repent and turn around that we might bear fruit as God’s faithful people. Here. In this time and this place. Amen.

Preached February 28, 2021, online with Third Lutheran and Grace & Glory Lutheran churches, Louisville/Goshen, KY.

Second Sunday of Lent

Readings: Psalm 122, Luke 13:1-9, 31-35

God's Kingdom Revealed: Truth

Then they took Jesus from Caiaphas to Pilate’s headquarters. It was early in the morning. They themselves did not enter the headquarters, so as to avoid ritual defilement and to be able to eat the Passover. So Pilate went out to them and said, “What accusation do you bring against this man?” They answered, “If this man were not a criminal, we would not have handed him over to you.” Pilate said to them, “Take him yourselves and judge him according to your law.” The Jews replied, “We are not permitted to put anyone to death.” (This was to fulfill what Jesus had said when he indicated the kind of death he was to die.)

Then Pilate entered the headquarters again, summoned Jesus, and asked him, “Are you the King of the Jews?” Jesus answered, “Do you ask this on your own, or did others tell you about me?” Pilate replied, “I am not a Jew, am I? Your own nation and the chief priests have handed you over to me. What have you done?” Jesus answered, “My kingdom is not from this world. If my kingdom were from this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jews. But as it is, my kingdom is not from here.” Pilate asked him, “So you are a king?” Jesus answered, “You say that I am a king. For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.” Pilate asked him, “What is truth?”

After he had said this, he went out to the Jews again and told them, “I find no case against him. But you have a custom that I release someone for you at the Passover. Do you want me to release for you the King of the Jews?” They shouted in reply, “Not this man, but Barabbas!” Now Barabbas was a bandit. John 18:28-40 (NRSV)

Grace and peace to you from our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

Today, we are beginning a series called “God’s Kingdom Revealed.” What do you think of when I use the term “kingdom of God”?

The kingdom of God can mean many different things to many different people. We are going to spend some time today thinking about how we envision the kingdom of God.

So, let’s begin by looking at scripture. The kingdom of God is both present and future. Let’s look first at the kingdom of God as something that is yet to come.

Let's read: Isaiah 2:1-4, Isaiah 11:6-9, and Revelation 21:3-5? 

Based on these readings what is a word that you would use to describe the kingdom of God? As you say your word out loud, I will enter them into my iPad and we will create an image out of them. It’s okay to duplicate words. And, the more words we have, the more spectacular that image will be.

Now, let’s add to this image. Often we think of the kingdom of God as something in the future. But God’s kingdom is happening right now. Here, in our very midst.

Let’s read some more from scripture. Luke 1:50-54, Luke 4:18-19, Matthew 6:10, John 1:14-15.

Based on these readings, are there any new words we need to add to our word cloud?

What does God’s earthly kingdom look like? In today’s lesson, Jesus tells us in his encounter with Pilate that he has come to bring the truth. 

Imagine the situation at the time: Pilate, with his position of power and authority, does not know what to do with this Jesus person. Pilate questions Jesus. And Jesus defies every expectation and understanding that Pilate has. And then there’s the crowd, acting like a mob, demanding the release of Barabbas.

The story feels a little like a modern-day episode of the TV show, “Law and Order,” doesn’t it? It involves a trial, false accusations, an arrest, and a betrayal. There are lies being told, power being manipulated, and innocent people caught in the crossfire. How is it even possible to see God’s kingdom and truth at work in such a mess?

What this story--this mess--provides for us is a contrast between how Pilate sees truth compared to Jesus’ truth. Pilate’s truth is in the power of a lie. In manipulating perceptions that eventually distort and misrepresent what is true. He accepts the lies that the Jewish leadership are feeding him about Jesus. That Jesus is a blasphemer. That he is a rebel against Rome. That Jesus is a threat to the social welfare. This is the truth the Jewish leadership feeds Pilate. This is the truth that Pilate accepts. It is a truth that perpetuates hatred. That diminishes life.

This false truth is countered by God’s truth. A truth that is about conveying love, rather than hatred. About giving life instead of diminishing life. God’s kingdom--the kingdom that Jesus rules--is founded on this truth. It is because this truth is not just about a claim of what the kingdom is. It is because this truth is characteristic of God. Loving. Life-giving. And, by extension, the One sent by God is also characterized by this loving and life-giving truth. It is this truth that is the basis for our relationship with God. With the Word, who in John 1, is “full of grace and truth.”

So, when Pilate asks the question, “What is truth?” he misses the point. The truth of Jesus, this Word made flesh, upon which we base our trust, is the very nature of the kingdom of God. It is a kingdom that is not from this world. And, yet, God. Loves. This. World.

God enters into this world in Jesus, who takes on the realities of all humanity--taking on our realities--we, who are susceptible to the kingships and nations of this world. 

Let’s return to our headlines from the beginning of worship. The world is filled with lies and falsehoods. Sometimes it is hard to tell what is true and what is simply loud. But we know that Jesus is the truth. We may not always understand it, but we know that we can trust Jesus. So, we are going to cover over all of these voices--all of these falsehoods and lies and fears--with what we know to be true: that Jesus is our truth.

At the end of each pew is a small stack of colored paper and a few pens. I’d invite each of you to take a piece of paper and a marker, and, on your paper, write a truth about Jesus. Something like, “Jesus is truth,” or “Jesus is love,” or Jesus is peace,” or a truth you might pull from our word cloud. You choose how you want to bury these false headlines. Then, when you have written your truth, take it to one of the headline pages and begin covering up the lies--the lies that our world tells us. 

What is truth? The truth is Jesus, who is the truth of the very nature of the kingdom of God.

God help us to hear this truth and to respond. Amen.

Preached March 11, 2018, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Fourth Sunday in Lent
Readings: Psalm 145:10-13, John 18:28-40

Chaos and Confusion

Now Jesus stood before the governor; and the governor asked him, “Are you the King of the Jews?” Jesus said, “You say so.” But when he was accused by the chief priests and elders, he did not answer. Then Pilate said to him, “Do you not hear how many accusations they make against you?” But he gave him no answer, not even to a single charge, so that the governor was greatly amazed.

Now at the festival the governor was accustomed to release a prisoner for the crowd, anyone whom they wanted. At that time they had a notorious prisoner, called Jesus Barabbas. So after they had gathered, Pilate said to them, “Whom do you want me to release for you, Jesus Barabbas or Jesus who is called the Messiah?” For he realized that it was out of jealousy that they had handed him over. While he was sitting on the judgment seat, his wife sent word to him, “Have nothing to do with that innocent man, for today I have suffered a great deal because of a dream about him.” Now the chief priests and the elders persuaded the crowds to ask for Barabbas and to have Jesus killed. The governor again said to them, “Which of the two do you want me to release for you?” And they said, “Barabbas.” Pilate said to them, “Then what should I do with Jesus who is called the Messiah?” All of them said, “Let him be crucified!” Then he asked, “Why, what evil has he done?” But they shouted all the more, “Let him be crucified!”

So when Pilate saw that he could do nothing, but rather that a riot was beginning, he took some water and washed his hands before the crowd, saying, “I am innocent of this man’s blood; see to it yourselves.” Then the people as a whole answered, “His blood be on us and on our children!” So he released Barabbas for them; and after flogging Jesus, he handed him over to be crucified.

Then the soldiers of the governor took Jesus into the governor’s headquarters, and they gathered the whole cohort around him. They stripped him and put a scarlet robe on him, and after twisting some thorns into a crown, they put it on his head. They put a reed in his right hand and knelt before him and mocked him, saying, “Hail, King of the Jews!” They spat on him, and took the reed and struck him on the head. After mocking him, they stripped him of the robe and put his own clothes on him. Then they led him away to crucify him.

As they went out, they came upon a man from Cyrene named Simon; they compelled this man to carry his cross. And when they came to a place called Golgotha (which means Place of a Skull), they offered him wine to drink, mixed with gall; but when he tasted it, he would not drink it. And when they had crucified him, they divided his clothes among themselves by casting lots; then they sat down there and kept watch over him. Over his head they put the charge against him, which read, “This is Jesus, the King of the Jews.”

Then two bandits were crucified with him, one on his right and one on his left. Those who passed by derided him, shaking their heads and saying, “You who would destroy the temple and build it in three days, save yourself! If you are the Son of God, come down from the cross.” In the same way the chief priests also, along with the scribes and elders, were mocking him, saying, “He saved others; he cannot save himself. He is the King of Israel; let him come down from the cross now, and we will believe in him. He trusts in God; let God deliver him now, if he wants to; for he said, ‘I am God’s Son.’” The bandits who were crucified with him also taunted him in the same way.

From noon on, darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon. And about three o’clock Jesus cried with a loud voice, “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?” that is, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” When some of the bystanders heard it, they said, “This man is calling for Elijah.” At once one of them ran and got a sponge, filled it with sour wine, put it on a stick, and gave it to him to drink. But the others said, “Wait, let us see whether Elijah will come to save him.” Then Jesus cried again with a loud voice and breathed his last. At that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. The earth shook, and the rocks were split. The tombs also were opened, and many bodies of the saints who had fallen asleep were raised. After his resurrection they came out of the tombs and entered the holy city and appeared to many. Now when the centurion and those with him, who were keeping watch over Jesus, saw the earthquake and what took place, they were terrified and said, “Truly this man was God’s Son!” Matthew 27:11-54 (NRSV)

I wonder what the disciples were thinking.

They’d been with Jesus for nearly three years, this man they called, “Rabbi.” He had called them to simply come and follow him. And, they had. Over these years, they had traveled with Jesus throughout the Galilean countryside and beyond--in all the places away from the powerful center of Jerusalem. Along the way, among a variety of characters, they had witnessed Jesus reveal more and more who he was. Characters that included Nicodemus, the Samaritan woman at the well, the blind man to whom Jesus had given sight, and Lazarus and his sisters and the never-before witnessed miracle in which Jesus had brought Lazarus back to life after having been dead for four full days.

I wonder what the disciples were thinking.

They had listened to Jesus tell them what it would mean to be his disciple. To “take up the cross.”  How they were to engage in active nonviolent resistance when confronted with oppression and violence. How the integrity of what they said and did mattered. How they were to love others. Not just friends and families. But, also enemies. 

They’d been sent out, too. Sent to participate in the same mission of Jesus--to proclaim the same message--that God’s kingdom was at hand. Jesus had given them authority,. The same God-given authority to preach and to heal and to forgive. They’d gone out. They’d gone out, knowing how hard this mission would be. That in speaking truth to power they would be oppressed and harassed. That suffering would be inevitable. That participating in Jesus’ mission meant taking up his cross.

I wonder what the disciples were thinking.

They had heard Jesus tell them that he would eventually die at the hands of the religious and the political elite. How they wouldn’t...how they couldn’t...how they didn’t want to believe him. How their thoughts had been expressed by Peter so forcefully when he challenged Jesus. Saying that, “No!” this wouldn’t happen. And watching Jesus shut him down. Oh, how distressed they had been. 

They had also heard him say that he would be raised. Something they did not, could not understand. 

I wonder what the disciples were thinking.

They had witnessed--had accompanied--Jesus riding into Jerusalem. On a donkey. As though he was mocking the Roman authorities. Making his entrance into Jerusalem in the midst of the Passover celebration. A Jerusalem that had swelled in size by several hundred thousand people. People who had come from the countryside to the temple to celebrate this holy festival. People who had heard of Jesus or who had heard him speak. 
They had seen the crowds respond to Jesus as he entered triumphantly into the city. How the huge crowds had welcomed and had shouted their “Hosannas!” and other songs of acclaim. They had retrieved the donkey for Jesus with unexpected ease. They knew the ambivalence of his riding this donkey--that it was a royal animal that had carried previous representatives of God’s reign--King Solomon and others. And, yet, that it was an everyday beast of burden--a symbol of scorn. They saw the contradictions in the extravagant welcome of Jesus by the crowd while he was, at the same time, seated upon this lowly animal, the same animal that had carried his mother to Bethlehem to give birth to him in a stable, of all places.

I wonder what the disciples were thinking.

They had heard that the religious authorities were conspiring against Jesus. They had heard that one of their own was involved. How distressed they had been! And when Jesus told them they would all desert him that night--the night they celebrated the Passover together--they heard Peter boast that he would never abandon Jesus. 

They had been there in the garden that night. In Gethsemane. How they had wanted to stay awake as Jesus asked them. How they had failed. And then, they had seen the soldiers come with Judas. One of their own had grabbed a sword, trying to violently resist, and had been quickly condemned by Jesus. 

They had been there that night. And then, they had deserted Jesus and run. Just as he said they would.

I wonder what the disciples were thinking.

They had seen the week start out so well. They had seen the throngs greet Jesus as the Messiah, with the expectation that he had come to overthrow the Romans--their political captors. Jesus had been treated as the king they knew he was.

And, then, quickly. Within just a few short days, it had all dissolved into madness. The king they knew, the Messiah they thought had come to make a regime change, this Jesus, their teacher and friend, now arrested, convicted, and tortured. And, then, crucified.  Like a common criminal. One of the cruelest means of execution, reserved for non-citizens and for the socially rejected. For rebellious foreigners, violent criminals, robbers, slaves--for all those on the margins. Jesus. Shamed and humiliated.

Chaos and confusion. I think this is what the disciples were thinking. And feeling. Their entire lives. Their entire way of thinking. Their entire world. Turned upside down. Dissolving into chaos and confusion.


Chaos and confusion. This was something Dietrich Bonhoeffer also knew about. It was on this day in 1945--on April 9th, 1945--that Bonhoeffer, a Lutheran theologian and pastor, was shot to death by a Nazi firing squad. He had studied theology in Germany and the United States and had pastored a church in London before choosing to return to Germany to resist the rise to power of Adolf Hitler. He was eventually arrested and, on this day 72 years ago, put to death.  

Just like the disciples, Bonhoeffer knew about chaos and confusion. And, yet, he, like the disciples, knew that this was what discipleship was all about. In his book, The Cost of Discipleship, which he wrote in prison while awaiting his execution, Bonhoeffer wrote, “[God says this]: Discipleship is not limited to what you can comprehend - it must transcend all comprehension. Plunge into the deep waters beyond your own comprehension, and I will help you to comprehend even as I do. Bewilderment is the true comprehension. Not to know where you are going is the true knowledge. My comprehension transcends yours.”

It is in the midst of the chaos and confusion that God breaks in. In the chaos and confusion and brokenness of the world, into our own brokenness--it is there that God breaks in. In the chaos and confusion of a world where people do not have enough to eat or they lack decent healthcare, God breaks in. In the chaos and confusion of a world where it seems there is a mass shooting nearly every day, or terrorism is our first thought after any incident, God breaks in. Or even in the chaos and confusion of a world where a political leader uses nerve gas on his own people, a refugee people that nearly the entire world has rejected, God breaks in. 

This is what we believe. This is what we trust. This is what we know because it is in the chaos and confusion of Jesus’ crucifixion and death that God broke in and raised him from the dead. And it is in the midst of our own chaos and confusion that God has broken in and has brought us new life. In Christ.

And that is why we shout, right along with the crowd that Palm Sunday, “Hosanna! Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest heaven!”

Amen.

Preached at Grace and Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
April 9, 2017 - Palm Sunday
Readings: Matthew 21:1-11, Isaiah 50:4-9a, Psalm 31:9-16, Philippians 2:5-11, Matthew 27:11-54