9/15/24 - Waiting for Power - Acts 1:1-11

Waiting for Power

Acts 1:1-11

Emmanuel Baptist Church; Rev. Kathy Donley

September 15, 2024 

 Note: A recording of this worship service may be found here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wqBaRIJPx04

The book of Acts begins with a recap.  Luke, the author, reminds Theophilus, who might be his benefactor, that there is a prequel to this book which contains a lot more details about what Jesus did and taught.  The prequel is the Gospel of Luke. He wraps it up his summary by saying that Jesus spent about 40 days showing that he was alive, demonstrating the truth of the resurrection and talking about the reign of God.  This book is about a time of huge disruption and transitions.  Transitions so momentous that much of the world now orders our calendars around the before and after of these changes. 

 

As Jesus is preparing to depart, he spends his time talking about the reign of God which is what he talked about at the beginning of his ministry.  He is transferring leadership, putting his life’s mission into the hands of his disciples.  His mission will become their mission.  Their mission will be passed to the next generation and the next and the next until it reaches us and becomes our mission.

Jesus reminds them about the big picture, about God’s intention for deep peace and well-being for all of creation.  He shows them the scars of his suffering, which signify both the terrible cost of this mission and the victory of resurrection.  Maybe he repeats some favorite parables, answers a few more questions,  but eventually he says “I’ve got to go. And you have to be my witnesses, here, there, and ultimately everywhere. It’s in your hands.”

I was reading Acts a few weeks ago, at the time of the Olympics.  And I thought about the pressure on Olympic athletes . . .  the fear, the excitement, the unbelievably high expectations.  Maybe it was something like that for the disciples.  This was what they trained for for so long.  This is what was set in motion when those fisherfolk dropped their nets and followed Jesus years ago.  Just like for first-time Olympians, it is familiar and also brand new.  They’ve never been here before.  What if they fail?  What if they succeed?

There’s a viral Tik-Tok video which shows a young girl being picked up by her Mom after school.  She opens the back door and immediately buries her face in the seat of her carseat.  She says, “I done so much at school, I just need to take a second.” 

Her Mom says, “Are you tired?”

Yeah.

What did you do at school?

The girl says “I just do too much at school.”

The Mom asks again, “What do you do?”

The girl takes her head out of the car seat and looks at her Mom.  She says, “Like I go to lunch. . . and I. . . It’s a lot for me.”[1]

I imagine the disciples and all that they’ve been through, especially most recently.  The abject terror surrounding the crucifixion and then the unreality of resurrection, Judas’ betrayal of Jesus and of all of them and then his death by suicide.  And now, Jesus wants them to fill his shoes, to keep telling his story, to do all the teaching and healing and loving enemies without him.  I could understand if they were overwhelmed and said “That’s a lot for me.” 

But maybe something else happened.  Maybe in the 40 days they shared after resurrection, they had time to process and come to terms with the incredible experience of knowing Jesus.  Maybe in touching his scars, they recognized the One who had defeated death.  Maybe they had time to say I’m sorry and be forgiven, time to hang out and laugh, to hug and share some memories.  And maybe in that time, they accepted and embraced their mission.

Jesus announced their mission – Be my witnesses.  It’s a fairly open-ended job description.  And then he said, “But first . . .wait.  Before you do anything wait for power.” 

Tony Robinson is an ordained minister in the United Church of Christ.  He does a lot of writing and lecturing.  One time he was teaching a class on leading change to about 40 mainline pastors. In one exercise,  each student had to choose from three possible answers what motivated them most, what got them into ministry and keep them going. The most popular answer was affiliation.  These pastors, 26 of the 40, were motivated by forming and attending to relationships.  A second group of about 12 identified as achievers.  These were people who wanted to produce visible results with projects or programs.  The third group was the smallest, only two or three pastors, who said that their major motivation was power and influence.  They wanted to change hearts and minds.  So, the motivations were 1) relationships, 

2) achievements

and then, in last place,  3) power and influence. 

Tony invited the class to reflect on those results.  The first responses were self-congratulatory.  Several said, “It’s good. We care about people, not power.”  The comments went like that for a bit, but then one student said, “I’m not surprised that so few indicated an interest in power and influence.  After all, our denomination has been telling us for years, in all sorts of ways, that power is bad.”  Someone else agreed, pointing out that when power is unacknowledged or suppressed usually goes underground and pops up in unhealthy ways. Finally, Tony concluded the discussion by saying that he would be concerned for a church organization where only 5 percent of the leaders wanted to change hearts and minds, wanted to influence people and communities to be more healthy and Christlike and functional by exercising their power.[2]

I wonder if we can put ourselves into the place of those first Christians.  Can we imagine Jesus telling us to wait for power?  Can we imagine receiving power from the very same source as Jesus – the Spirit of God?  Can we?  I don’t think we claim our power or even the promise of power very often. 

Maybe it is because we have seen too much publicity around churches or church leaders that abused their power.  Some of us have been harmed by those churches.  We don’t want to be lumped in with those power-mongers and we definitely want to avoid inflicting that harm.  Rather than harness power for good, we prefer to see ourselves as powerless.

Jesus said that we are to be his witnesses.  Witnesses are those who tell the truth. Someone has said “you shall know the truth and the truth shall make you odd.”  Maybe we do not claim the power of the Holy Spirit because we are afraid of being odd, afraid of paying too high a cost for speaking controversial or inconvenient truths. 

Maybe it is low self-esteem. We do not recognize the power that we have or the difference we are already making.  Not long ago, I heard from a friend in her 80’s.  She had just received some bad news.  A friend of hers, a young person in his twenties, had been diagnosed with cancer.  He was fine one day and seriously ill the next.  The news was a gut punch. She said, “There’s nothing I can do about this.”  Before the conversation was over, I realized that she was helping him with his medical bills, which, as you might expect, is no small thing.  The next time I talked with her, his treatment had started and she was feeling a bit of hope– I think in part because she recognized that she was doing more than she had given herself credit for. 

Or maybe we don’t think in terms of power, as a church, because we believe our best days are behind us. We know that thousands of churches close every year. Denominational resources have shrunk and keep shrinking. Clergy are not seen as public moral leaders as they once were.  A 2023 Gallup poll found only 32% of Americans described pastors as having high honesty and ethical standards.  Clergy did rank higher than members of Congress though. A mere 6% thought they were honest and ethical. [3]  We are caught up in a narrative and a reality that doesn’t lead us to feel powerful at all.    

But consider the religious scene in Jerusalem in the first century.  The civil religion, the Roman pantheon of gods, seems robust. It is enforced by local custom and by the sword of empire.   Judaism was already divided by the theology and practices of groups like the Sadducees, the Pharisees and the Essenes, but now there is growing conflict between Jewish people who believe Jesus is the Messiah and those who don’t.  By the time the book of Acts is written down, the magnificent building that was the Temple will have been torn down to the ground and the worship and pilgrimages that it supported will have been destroyed. 

So, if we are hesitant to accept the notion that we might have access to the Power of the Spirit of God, the power of life and death, the power to change the world, we might stop to recognize that it would have been hard for those folks waiting in Jerusalem to think of themselves that way too. They were a decided minority, marginalized in so many ways, small and weak in the eyes of Rome, in the eyes of Israel’s religious authorities and perhaps in their own estimation. But to them, Jesus promised power. 

He told them to stay in Jerusalem and wait.  I never like to be told to wait.  And in our case, at Emmanuel right now, there is an urgency, a sense that the window in which we can meaningfully take action is closing.  That urgency is creating momentum.  Surely the time for waiting is past. The book we’re studying is called Acts, not Waits.  It is full of action.  Our take-away today cannot possibly be that we are to just wait for God to do something.

There’s a whole genre of short videos circulating on social media.  They all begin with a voice or words on the screen that say “wait for it.”  It’s a cue to the viewer to pay attention, be ready because something is going to happen that you might not otherwise expect. Someone is going to have a funny accident or a wonderful surprise.  A child is going to utter one line of wisdom beyond their years. A bear will suddenly appear next to the person in the middle of the screen. A parachute will open just in time.  “Wait for it” means “Watch carefully or you’ll miss it.”  “Wait for it” means “Don’t look away, don’t shut off the video, because it’s not a long wait and it will be worth it.”

That’s how I hear Jesus speaking to us.  “Wait for power” means “anticipate it”.  It means “it is really close and it will be so worth it.”   

Having those instructions from Jesus, they did what he said. They stayed together. They prayed.  They talked and listened to each other.  And when the power fell, there was no mistaking it.  With the arrival of the Holy Spirit, the disciples had the power and the courage to take on the specifics of the mission which became clear.

This is my take-away from today’s reading. We have access to the same gift of power, the same Divine Spirit that empowered Jesus.  Can we claim that, lean into it, act like we believe it, until we really do?  We are waiting for specific guidance. We  are really close.  Wait for it. . .

We are waiting together.  We are praying together and individually.  If you aren’t already doing that, then please start. We are talking and listening to each other.  Next Sunday evening, we have set aside time with a skilled facilitator to be together, to talk and listen carefully, to discern our Emmanuel’s specific mission. Anticipate that the Spirit will be present with us too. Please do everything you can to be there. If you need transportation, if you need child-care, please share those needs with me today.

I love the way that Barbara Brown Taylor describes this scene in Acts 1  She says, “No one standing around watching them that day could have guessed what an astounding thing happened when they all stopped looking into the sky and looked at each other instead. On the surface, it was not a great moment: eleven abandoned disciples with nothing to show for all their following. But in the days and years to come it would become very apparent what had happened to them. With nothing but a promise and a prayer, those eleven people consented to become the church, and nothing was ever the same again, beginning with them.

The followers became leaders,

the listeners became preachers,

the converts became missionaries,

the healed became healers. The disciples became apostles, witnesses of the risen Lord by the power of the Holy Spirit, and nothing was ever the same again.” [4]

 

Oh friends, may it be so for you and for me. Wait for it . . .

 


[1] https://www.tiktok.com/@ehuber_192/video/7209300272957623598?lang=en

[2] Anthony B. Robinson and Robert W. Wall, Called to Be Church: The Book of Acts for a New Day, (Grand Rapids:  Eerdmans, 2006), p. 123

[3] https://news.gallup.com/poll/608903/ethics-ratings-nearly-professions-down.aspx

[4] https://www.christianitytoday.com/1998/05/day-we-were-left-behind/

 

5/12/24 - So That We May Know the Hope - Ephesians 1:15-23

Note: A recording of this worship service may be found here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9WJCfwDhPqk

Cover Image:  The Church of the Holy Sepulcher's long history underscores the importance of the physical place, Golgotha, of the death, burial and resurrection of Jesus Christ. The church (a primarily 19th century structure today) began as a pagan Roman temple site. The historian Eusebius confirmed the site as the place of Christ's resurrection, albeit with thin historical evidence. Constantine began the rehabilitation of the site and directed his mother, Helena, to construct a new church on the site, protecting and honoring the tomb of Jesus as the site of his resurrection. During the construction, Helena was said to have found the cross of Jesus' crucifixion, or the "true cross." Over the centuries the church building burned, was rebuilt and then destroyed, left in ruins, and rebuilt again in the modern period. The destruction of the church in 1009 by the Fatamid ruler over Jerusalem was eventually part of the justification for the first Crusade. Today several denominations/faiths jointly manage the site, very popular with Christian pilgrims.

https://www.flickr.com/photos/dgjones/5797176382/

5/5/24 - Worthy - John 18:33-37; Revelation 5:6-14

Worthy

John 18:33-37

Revelation 5:6-14

Emmanuel Baptist Church; Rev. Kathy Donley

May 5, 2024

 

Image:  Crozier Head with Lamb of God, 13th century Italian or Sicilian, from the Metropolitan Museum of Art Medieval Collection

Note: A recording of the worship service in which this sermon was preached may be found here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TORxSrtTwmY

 

Those of us who participated in the Civil Rights Pilgrimage in February read and heard important words at every stop.  One of the sentences that stuck with several of us came from Joanne Bland.  As she talked about people who died during the Civil Rights Movement, she said, “You will hear it said that they gave their lives for this cause, but that is wrong.”  She said, “They did not give their lives.  Their lives were taken from them.”

Similarly, you might have noticed a difference when some people described George Floyd as having been killed and others said that he was murdered. 

There is a way of telling the story that accents the injustice connected with certain deaths.  The gospels are emphatic that Jesus’ death is an injustice that never should have happened.  “Jesus is innocent, falsely accused.  . . . Those who execute him are indifferent to truth, captive to evil, and motivated by expediency and power.  It is wrong for him to die.” [1]

The book of Revelation is a letter to 7 churches made up of poor and marginalized folks trying to survive, resist and refuse assimilation into the Roman empire.[2]  The intent is to help these early Christians hold on to their faith, to recognize and anticipate the exploitation and oppression of empire.

John, the writer of Revelation, John uses the word slaughter to describe the violence of Rome.  There is the violence of military conquests, the violence of economic injustice which leads to death from food shortages and famines that accompany war.  John repeats the words slaughter and blood to emphasize Rome’s M.O.  Rome slaughters.[3] 

John makes it clear.  Jesus did not just die.  Jesus was not simply killed.  Jesus was slaughtered.  He was murdered.  He died a violent, unjust death at the hands of empire.

In today’s reading, John has a vision of heaven.  He sees a scroll which is completely sealed.  Seven is a Biblical number of perfection.  The scroll is perfectly sealed.   The scroll represents the future. It contains answers to all the questions.  But it is sealed and there is no one qualified to open it.

So John weeps.  If no one can open the scroll, then it seems there will be no end to the suffering of his people, no answers to all their why questions, no coming of God’s reign on earth as it is in heaven.  John weeps.  But then someone says, “There is one who is worthy.”  It is the Lion of Judah. 

John turns to see the entrance of the powerful Lion, the great warrior that has conquered, the only one who can break the seals to open the scroll. John looks toward the throne, ready to bow before the fierce Lion, the one who will bring God’s terrible truth and justice, but there on the throne is not a Lion, but a Lamb.

The slaughtered Lamb, is the one, the only one, worthy to open the scroll.  We were expecting a Lion, but we see a Lamb. The Lamb is worthy to open the seals, unlocking the meaning of the mysteries of the universe, because the Lamb was murdered.  “The Lamb worthy to reveal God’s future for the world is himself a victim of violence.”[4]

The Lamb is worthy.

When the President makes an entrance today, the band plays “Hail to the Chief!” and the crowd stands. When the Roman emperor appeared in public, the crowds were trained to shout “Worthy! Worthy! Worthy is the emperor.” [5]

The truth is that the murdered Lamb, Jesus,  is worthy, not the emperor.  The courageous Lamb overcomes evil by refusing to adopt its methods.  Remember what Jesus said to Pilate “My kingdom is not of this world.  “If my kingdom were from this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over”. In other words, Jesus was saying “I don’t play by your rules.  I don’t return violence for violence, evil for evil.”

The slaughtered Lamb has the power, no matter what the emperor claims.  Empire killed the Lamb and the Lamb came back.  Jesus creates a new political order by breaking the stranglehold of sin and death.  That empowers a new community to live courageously, trusting that God’s reign of nonviolence and peace through justice will ultimately prevail.  The Lamb is worthy.

Wes Howard-Brock is a writer and peacemaker and educator. In one of his books, he describes two religions present within the Bible, a religion of empire and a religion of creation. Each religion has its own theology, practice and liturgy.

The religion of empire is concerned with protecting its power by casting suspicion on the other, destroying enemies and stockpiling resources for the few, even it if means the rest go hungry. The second religion, the religion of creation is grounded in an economy of gift, set on making strangers into neighbors, and laying the ground work for love of all:  enemies, strangers, neighbors and even the non-human world. [6]

The religion of empire and the religion of creation are both attested in the Bible. God, repeatedly and relentlessly confronts the unjust, violent religion of empire with non-violence and justice.  We humans, especially when we are hurt or threatened, tend to slip into the ways of empire.  We forsake the power of the Lamb.

There are so many examples of Christians embracing empire, the very danger that Revelation warns against. One story comes from Argentina during the years when a military junta ruled by abducting, torturing and killing thousands. One woman was arrested and interrogated for two nights under humiliating conditions. She was blindfolded and questioned by a group of men unknown to her.  At one point, she said, “I am a Christian”  One of the men laughed at her and said, “Why are you telling us that? I am too.”  He took her hand and put it on his chest where a cross was hanging; then he gave her the cross to hold and mocked her for her belief a commitment to the poor was part of her identity as a Christian.  She was deeply shocked that he could claim the cross for himself in service of “national security.”   This is the way of empire – to turn the symbol of suffering love and solidarity into an instrument of domination. [7]  Before you dismiss that story as irrelevant to us in our time and place, consider the use of burning crosses as threat and intimidation.  Consider the rise of Christian nationalism and the support that Christian Zionism gives to genocide in the Middle East.

This week the United Methodist Church changed their minds.  They voted overwhelmingly to delete the language that claims that homosexuality is incompatible with Christian teaching.  They affirmed marriage as a sacred covenant between two people of consenting age. They struck down a ban on queer clergy.  Great was the rejoicing! 

Even as my Facebook was flooded with United Methodist rainbows and the faces of people who have been advocating for this justice for over 40 years, I thought about those not present, those whose lives and personhood had been diminished and crushed by this exclusion.

I thought of my friend Cindy who was a United Methodist pastor, until she took the courageous step of telling the truth about herself to her congregation. She did so intentionally, knowing that it would lead to church discipline, knowing that she would face a church trial and likely be forced to leave.  She was.  She now serves as pastor in another denomination.

On the day in 2016, she said,  “I have been an ordained UMC pastor for 25 years. At last, I am choosing to serve in that role with full authenticity, as my genuine self, a woman who loves and shares my life with another woman.”

It is ironic that the faith she learned in that denomination is what empowered her to speak this truth.  She said, “It’s soul-crushing to speak to my congregation each week about God’s love for them as they are, while being unable to speak of my own God-given identity, my loving relationship, and much of my day-to-day life. I do this not only for myself, but for my partner, for my daughter, for all those who are excluded, and for the good of the church.”[8] 

Another colleague, a rabbi,  also remembered Cindy this week. In a Facebook post, he said that “she went through hell for what is right and ended up on her feet and dragging a Church she doesn’t even belong to anymore behind her. History will probably not remember her role in all this, but it was not insignificant.”  Cindy understands the power of the Lamb. I lift her up today as an example of the ways that we who follow Jesus have to identify with the victims of violence and testify to the systems of oppression in our own imperial context, even when that context is the church.

The Rev. Peter Storey is a Methodist Pastor from South Africa who was deeply involved in dismantling apartheid and rebuilding the country afterward.  He served as chaplain to Nelson Mandela and others on Robben Island and spent decades working against racism with Desmond Tutu.  After he retired as a bishop in South Africa, he taught at Duke Divinity School.  He has made about 50 trips to the United States since the 1960’s and preached in over 100 cities.  On a visit about a year ago, he offered a warning to American churches about Christian Nationalism.  He urged us to re-examine what it means to be the Body of Christ. He said to remember that we know the end of the story.  Even though evil and corruption and violence feels overwhelming and insurmountable, we know the power of the murdered and resurrected Lamb.   Decades ago, he had to ask himself what it meant to follow Jesus in apartheid South Africa.  He said he developed 4 principles for himself which he offered to us now. 

 

1)    Tell the truth without fear.  He said you have to be a truth teller.  You have to be willing to suffer the anger of the system, retaliation from the authorities, and the loss of church members. 

2)    Bind up the broken.  Make every effort to enter into the lives of those around you who are suffering most. Imitate Jesus who journeyed with the pain of others.

3)    Live the alternative to empire.  Build a community that reflects God’s dream of inclusion and radical welcome.

4)    Join Jesus in the energy for change in your country.  The church must get rid of its triumphalism and its arrogance. The suggestion that we are the only people that God is using to change the world is nonsense. In fact, half the time God has to abandon us because we are so useless and use other methods. We should very humbly seek a place among other people of faith, of other faiths, of no faith, of different approaches, who seek justice.[9]

 

Beloved ones, this is my prayer for us, that we may know the ferocious gentle power of the Lamb and that we may endure with faithfulness.  Amen.

 

 


[1] S. Mark Heim, Saved from Sacrifice:  A Theology of the Cross, (Grand Rapids:  Eerdmans, 2006),  p 107

[2] https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/fourth-sunday-of-easter-3/commentary-on-revelation-79-17-9 

[3] https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/all-saints-sunday/commentary-on-revelation-79-17-10  Anna Bowden

[4] J. Nelson Kraybill, Apocalypse and Allegiance:  Worship, Politics and Devotion in the Book of Revelation (Grand Rapids:  Brazos Press, 2010), p. 98

[5] https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/third-sunday-of-easter-3/commentary-on-revelation-511-14-2

[6] https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/third-sunday-of-easter-3/commentary-on-revelation-511-14-5

[7] Dorothee Soelle, Theology for Skeptics: Thinking about God, ( Minneapolis:  Fortress Press, 1995),  pp 124-125

[8] http://www.kansascity.com/living/religion/article53739145.html#storylink=cpy

[9] https://faithandleadership.com/peter-storey-the-church-here-the-world-or-itself

4/28/24 - God in Pain - Isaiah 53:7-9; Hebrews 4:14-16

God in Pain

Isaiah 53:7-9; Hebrews 4:14-16

Emmanuel Baptist Church; Rev. Kathy Donley

April 28, 2024

 

Image: Image  Fear Not: I Got You by Margo Humphrey, 2013

Note: A recording of the worship service in which this sermon was preached may be found here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V4aZdiQNIrg

Two weeks ago, Jim and I had the great privilege of hearing the Rev. Dr. Mitri Raheb speak at the Alliance of Baptists gathering.  Dr. Raheb is a Palestinian theologian.  He served as pastor of the Christmas Lutheran Church in Bethlehem for 30 years.  He is the founder and president of Dar al-Kalima University which is the first and only university in Palestine focused on the arts and cultural heritage.  

Dr. Raheb describes his homeland this way  “The people of Palestine have been occupied, crushed, and oppressed by one empire the other.  It is a distinct and unique challenge to be placed in a buffer zone that’s often a war zone.  It is tough to see one’s country as a perpetual battlefield, to see it divided and torn apart. . .  It is not easy to live in Palestine and survive physically and, even more, psychologically and emotionally.  But this is the context in which the people of Palestine have repeatedly found themselves.  This is the context in which the Bible was written.  And it is the context Palestinians face today.”[1]  

In 2003, the Church of Sweden held an international art exhibition called The Christ of the World.  As a demonstration that the gospel crosses borders and ethnicities, they intended to display art from all over the world, and they wanted to include paintings from Palestine.  At the time that submissions were to be made, Israel had imposed a 24-hour lockdown on Bethlehem, so it was challenging, but they persevered.  In his book, The Cross in Contexts, Dr. Raheb reports that 60% of the artists who participated were Muslim.  That did not surprise him, because over half of the student body is Muslim. 

What did surprise him was that all but one of the Muslim students had submitted a picture of the crucified Christ, while only one Christian had chosen that theme. Islam understands Jesus as a prophet, but teaches that he was not crucified. The cross in any form is usually deliberately avoided by Muslim people.  These artists might have safely chosen to paint the nativity or any other event from Jesus life.  Dr. Raheb concluded that Christ on the cross best represented the context in which they were living.  He writes “In a God sharing their bitter destiny, they find strength, comfort and power.  . . It is the suffering and crucified Christ that can best speak to us, an occupied nation, in our suffering.  It is he who can best tell our story to the world.  Palestinian identity is best described by the cross.” [2]

I am continuing on a theme that I started at the beginning of this month, exploring the meaning of the cross two thousand years after Resurrection. Today, I am focused on the cross as the ultimate expression of God’s solidarity with humanity.  I am interested in the power of Jesus becoming like we are, as Hebrews says, “in every respect.” 

There’s a well-known incident related by the professor and activist and Auschwitz survivor Elie Wiesel.  In his book, Night, he writes, “ The SS hanged two Jewish men and a youth in front of the whole camp. The men died quickly, but the death throes of the youth lasted for half an hour. ‘Where is God? Where is he?’ someone asked behind me. As the youth still hung in torment for a long time, I heard the man call again, ‘Where is God now?’ And I heard a voice in myself answer: ‘Where is he? He is here. He is hanging here on this gallows…’”

That may sound to us like a distinctly Christian interpretation, but it is also consistent with long-time rabbinic teachings that God suffers on behalf of humans.

One of the primary ways that I understand the cross is from the work of German theologian, Jurgen Moltmann.  As he dies, Jesus cries out “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?”  Moltmann says that Jesus, the son, suffers being abandoned by God and dying.  And simultaneously, God the parent, suffers the death of a child.  Jesus enters so completely into human experience that something new happens in the life of God.  A new kind of suffering and grief is born out of love for human beings.

Moltmann and Dietrich Bonhoeffer, both German citizens, were profoundly shaped by World War II.  Moltmann survived. Bonhoeffer did not.  Writing from prison, Bonhoeffer said, “The same God who is with us is the God who forsakes us.  The same God who makes us to live in the world without the working hypothesis of God is the God before who we stand continually.  Before God, and with God, we live without God.  God consents to be pushed out in the world and onto the cross; God is weak and powerless in the world and in precisely this way, and only so, is at our side and helps us.” [3]

On the cross, Jesus is God-forsaken.  God enters into the very depths of our pain, even into solidarity with us when we feel that God has abandoned us. This Trinitarian lens offers us a different understanding of the cross, one that is not transactional or substitutionary.  It is not Jesus enduring a punishment that we deserve, but Jesus taking on human suffering in the most profound outpouring of love.  

It is important to note that Jesus does not die of natural causes, at a ripe old age, but the violent death of the criminal on the cross.  Moltmann says, “Jesus takes upon himself the eternal death of the godless and the godforsaken, so that all the godless and the godforsaken can experience communion with him.”[4]

Suffering is part of human existence. Everyone endures it, and, in putting on human flesh, Jesus chose to enter fully into it. 

German theologian Dorothee Soelle reminds us that “the cross is not something religious – it is a terrible, bloody reality.”  She writes, “[the cross] stands for the small girl who was sexually abused by her father and lives many years in the silence of denial. The cross means the merciless violence which people carry out on people, the strong on the weak, rich on the poor...men on women...caretakers on the sick, the powerful on the powerless.... It surrounds us, penetrates our lives. And if we deny it, then we begin not really to see ourselves correctly.”[5]

This solidarity is understood particularly well by those within oppressed groups, those who routinely suffer the kind of unjust and violent death suffered by Jesus.  Those of us who enjoy the privilege of systems that work mostly in our favor may learn much from them.

Enslaved people in this country seized on this power of the cross.  Eminent black theologian James Cone said that “Christ crucified empowered them to believe that they would not be defeated by the troubles of this world, no matter how great and painful their suffering. . . Black ministers preached about Jesus’ death more than any other theme because they saw in Jesus’ suffering and persecution a parallel to their own encounter with slavery, segregation, and the lynching tree.”[6]

Mitri Raheb says that “the climax of the New Testament could not have been anything else but God on the cross.  Palestine was the unexpected place for God’s self-revelation.  And that meant that defeat in the face of empire, was not an ultimate defeat. For it enabled the people of Palestine to survive all defeats. It made the defeat lose its teeth, death lose its sting, and empire lose its victory. It ensured that empires were incapable of celebrating their victories, because while they crushed the people they occupied, they weren't able to crush their spirit. It helped them not surrender after each defeat, but to pick themselves up and start over again.” [7]

Contemporary black theologian Kelly Brown Douglas echoes this.  She writes, “Maintaining the connection between the cross and the empty tomb is essential to the meaning of the resurrection itself.  It grounds the resurrection in history.  It makes clear that the evil that God overcomes is historical, that is, that God really defeats that power of this world.   . . . It is the connection between the cross and resurrection that has enabled black people to know that God, as revealed in Jesus, intimately understands their suffering and pain.  It also lets them know that God can and will overcome it.”[8] 

Somehow, paradoxically, the God who suffers, the one who is god-forsaken and powerless, brings a powerful hope.

Friends, this sermon has been theologically dense, more like a seminary lecture than a sermon, rightfully speaking.  These are ideas which I find profound and hopeful, and truly life-giving, but I have not done justice to them.  I hope that I have perhaps enlivened our imaginations. 

I believe that one of our tasks in understanding the cross is to recognize when and where crucifixion is happening in our time.  If we perceive the similarities between the cross and the lynching tree, then perhaps we can also see that black and brown bodies suffering the repeated violence within our criminal legal system are also being crucified.  Perhaps we can see the migrants and refugees who are dying because of systematic denials of safety and shelter and recognize them as crucified people.  Or when we consider Gaza and the continued oppression of the Palestinian people, may we recognize the cross once again.  Wherever we recognize it, may we follow Christ in embracing the path of solidarity. And thanks be to God who understands and has overcome the power of this world.  Amen.

 

 


[1] Mitri Raheb and Suzanne Watts Henderson, The Cross in Contexts:  Suffering and Redemption in Palestine, (Maryknoll, NY:  Orbis Books, 1995), p. 16

[2] Mitri Raheb and Suzanne Watts Henderson, The Cross in Contexts, p. 20

[3] Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Letters and Papers from Prison, trans. Isabel Best, Lisa E. Dahill, Reinhard Krauss, and Nancy Lukens.  Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works, vol I, ed  Christian Gremmels, Eberhard Bethge, and Renate Bethge, with Ilse Todt (Minneapolis:  Fortress Press, 2010) p. 478-479.

[4] Jurgen Moltmann, The Crucified God (San Francisco:  HarperCollins, 1991), p. 276

[5] Dorothee Soelle, Theology for Skeptics: Thinking about God, ( Minneapolis:  Fortress Press, 1995), p 101

[6] James Cone, The Cross and the Lynching Tree (Maryknoll, New York:  Orbis Books, 2013),  p 2, 75

[7] https://www.mitriraheb.org/en/article/1487339798

[8] Kelly Brown Douglas, Stand Your Ground: Black Bodies and the Justice of God.

( Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 2015),  p. 187

4/7/24 - God’s Vulnerability - Philippians 2:5-11

God’s Vulnerability

Philippians 2:5-11

Emmanuel Baptist Church

April 7, 2024

Image:  Entry into the City by John August Swanson

Note: A recording of the worship service in which this sermon was preached may be found here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pRuY9awx0AE

 

Christ is Risen!  Christ is Risen indeed!  Here we are, just one week from Easter.  Did you spend the last seven days working out the meaning of the death and resurrection of Jesus?  If you have it all figured out, then, sorry, this sermon is not for you. 

I wonder what the disciples were thinking one week later.  I wonder how all the pieces came together for them, how they would explain it to us if we could hear it in their own words.

I also wonder how we understand it or even what we think the possibilities are. There are so many aspects we could focus on.  Competing or contrasting ideas exist alongside each other and we probably carry them around without too much internal distress.  But there is one way of interpreting the death and resurrection of Jesus that has dominated Western Christianity for the last thousand years.  It is so pervasive that even if we don’t personally hold this theology, it will inform the way we hear hymn lyrics or understand scripture. 

I’m talking about something called penal substitutionary atonement.  Those words almost never get strung together in ordinary conversation, but you are undoubtedly familiar with the concept.  The idea is that God is so pure and holy that God cannot abide human sin.  Sin is offensive to God. It creates a gulf, a n insurmountable distance between God and human beings.  God is incapable of forgiving sin without sacrifice; the distance cannot be overcome without the shedding of blood. That’s how this theory goes. Therefore, God sends Jesus to the world in order that the sinless Jesus will be killed. That appeases God’s need for a sacrifice and enables the forgiveness of sin.  

We are a mixed crowd here.  Some of us endorse this understanding.  It works for us.  We would say it is life-giving.  For others here, this does not work.  It does not fit with our other deep understandings of God. And when abused, it has been used to justify violence in the name of God.  Some of us are somewhere in the middle.  We may find this understanding problematic, but we don’t really know of an alternative. 

Most of you already know that I no longer find substitutionary atonement the best way to think about the death and resurrection of Jesus.  Most of the time, I would rather speak about what I am for rather than what I am against.  But because this concept is so pervasive, everything else gets filtered through it.  I am calling attention to it because it is the lens we often look through without even being aware of it. 

This understanding was first articulated about one thousand years after Jesus.  It was amplified by the Protestant reformers and has dominated the Western Christian world for the last millennium.  But still, I wonder, what did the disciples think a week after the first Easter?  Or a year or two later?  How did they put the pieces together?

Some of the earliest Christian writings we have are Paul’s letters.  The letter to the Philippians was probably written between 55 and 65 AD.  That’s before any of the gospels were written.  And in this letter, scholars believe, Paul quotes one of the earliest Christian hymns, something that existed before he began to write. 

This hymn says that Jesus is God, full stop.  Jesus is not subservient to God, not less than God.  Jesus is co-equal with the God who created the world and the God who led the Hebrews out of Egypt.  The Jesus God has the same power and is the same being as that One.  But the Jesus God does not hold onto that power.  They do not claim the use of that power. Instead, the Jesus God becomes human.  The Jesus God takes on human fragility.  On their own initiative,

the Jesus God crosses the distance between us.   The Jesus God does not keep themselves separate from the presence of sin to preserve their holiness, but enters into the brokenness, even becoming susceptible to temptation to sin themselves. 

So far, so good. We’re probably comfortable with that interpretation. Then comes verses 7-8 which read “and being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death -- even death on a cross.” We read the word “obedient”, and the substitutionary atonement lens filters the meaning for us.  We read the word “obedient” and our notions of hierarchy kick in.  We interpret this to mean that Jesus is obedient to God who requires his death.

But this very early Christian understanding of the cross does not mention sin or salvation or forgiveness.  If we read the text without that lens, on its own terms, we might understand that Jesus is being obedient to the laws that govern human existence.  He does not throw off his human form and take on his God form in order to escape death, because no other human being has that option.   One scholar says “Finding himself in human form, this Jesus, who had been in the form of God, humbles himself to obey all the aspects of being human: to be in only one place at one time, to submit to the law of gravity, to fall asleep after an exhausting day, to hunger for food, to desire companionship, to become embedded in the systemic forces of the day, and yes, to be mortal.”[1]

In another letter, the one to the church in Corinth, Paul wrote, “For as all die in Adam, so all will be made alive in Christ.”  If we think back to the story of Adam and Eve, we might recognize that they were not content with being human.  The serpent told them that if they ate from the forbidden tree, they would become like god.  They did eat from it, and the story says, this is how death came into the world.  For Adam and Eve, death was the result of disobedience, of striving to be like god. But  for Christ, death was the result of his obedience in identifying totally with the human condition.

“Therefore, God also highly exalted him and gave him the name that is above every name.” The hymn describes resurrection as exultation.  “To give someone a name is to give them status and power.  The name bestowed on Jesus is ‘the name that is above every name’, which is clearly the name of God.”[2]   The resurrection is vindication. It reveals that Jesus was God all along. 

This hymn may be the earliest surviving Christian statement about the cross.   It reveals a meaning to be found not only in Jesus’ death but in his lifelong act of giving up the privilege of being in the form of God.” [3]  Perhaps, if we let it, it can speak to the human need to be saved from the addiction to power, from our captivity to hierarchies and oppressive systems of status and self-worth, from our striving for control and domination of each other and creation.  I hope to explore that more in a future sermon. 

For today, I have one last point: in the resurrection, Jesus is exalted, restored to the place where he started, which reveals that Jesus is God all along.  Jesus does not grasp for equality with God because that grasping is not in God’s nature.  Jesus does not stand apart, maintaining a holy distance from creation because that is not who God is.  Jesus does not embody a God who is consumed with fury at human sin, who requires sacrifice for forgiveness.  Jesus embodies a God who eats and drinks and laughs and has a good time with humans, aka sinners.  Just as Jesus has been God all along, so also God has been Jesus all along.  “God enters the depths of our vulnerabilities because vulnerability is inherent to the nature of our God.”[4]

Presbyterian theologian William Greenway offers a compelling picture. He writes, “If a single image could capture the character of God in [Genesis], it would be a gracious bow.  All of God’s acts, blessings, and delights in creating are for others.  In the Hebrew scripture, this is typical of God, who is intimately concerned with justice, peace and the flourishing of all creatures, [the One] who is ‘on high’ but never remote, who is ‘over all’ but faithfully and dramatically invested in life on earth.”[5]   

Greenway concludes, “This is love -- that God was, is and always will be Immanuel, God with us and for us.  Every creature is bowing to the Three-in-One who bowed first and still bows. . . . This is a stunning, joyous, inspiring vision.”[6]

This message about the cross is foolishness to some, but for us, may it be the power of God.  Amen.

 


[1] F. Timothy Moore, “Giving up privilege: A sermon on Pihlippians 2:5-11, Review & Expositor, Vol 118, 2021  pp 118-123   https://doi.org/10.1177/00346373211002109

[2] Morna D. Hooker, New Interpreter’s Bible, Volume 11, (Nashville:  Abingdon Press, 2000), p. 510

[3] F. Timothy Moore, Giving up privilege:  A sermon on Philippians 2:5-11

[4] Willie James Jennings, in Connections: A Lectionary Commentary for Preaching and Worship, Year B, Volume 2 Joel Green, Thomas Long, Luke Powery, Cynthia Rigby, Carolyn Sharp Editors, (Louisville:  Westminster/John Knox Press, 2020), p. 127.

[5] William Greenway in Feasting on the Word, Year A, Volume 4, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, eds (Louisville, Westminster/John Knox Press, 2011) p. 112

[6] Greenway, p 114.