The Audio Link, Pictures, and Manuscript from my Sermon on Sunday, March 21st

Here's the link to the audio file for my sermon, recorded on Sunday, March 21st, 2010.  You can listen to the sermon by clicking and downloading the file (it's in windows media format). 

http://www.box.net/shared/cyf9usv77v


This was the 5th Sunday in Lent, and I began the sermon with a story from my pilgrimage to the Holy Land last fall.  I had printed a page with 5 pictures on it for the morning bulletin, and have posted the pictures below. 

If you continue scrolling down, you'll find the manuscript--always the "plan" going into Sunday morning. 



HERE ARE THE PICTURES:

[above] The Old City of Jerusalem, and the Dome of the Rock from the Mt. of Olives.

[above]  Looking at the Mt. of Olives across the Kidron Valley, seeing the oldest Jewish Cemetery in the world. 

[Above] The sign going into the Garden of Gethsemane

[Above]  Looking up and out of Gethsemane toward the Old City of Jerusalem

[Above]  Inside the private, worship and prayer area at Gethsemane

HERE IS THE SERMON MANUSCRIPT:

The Fifth Sunday in Lent; March 21, 2010

Park Avenue Presbyterian Church; Des Moines, Iowa

Texts: Isaiah 43: 16-21
Psalm 126
Philippians 3: 4b-14
John 12: 1-8 *

“A More Determined Jesus to Save the Lost”

--} I’m beginning this morning with a story about one of my experiences in the Holy Land—related to the pictures on your insert.

Our first morning in Jerusalem, after breakfast we took a short bus ride from our hotel to the Mount of Olives, to walk down the Mount of Olives, through the Kidron Valley and into the Old City of Jerusalem—the same kind of route Jesus would have taken into the city any number of times, but especially in our Palm Sunday story.

In the valley between the Mount of Olives and the Old City is Gethsemane. In one garden area is the Church of All Nations, that houses the rock on which Jesus is said to have knelt and prayed while his disciples were sleeping. And across a small street was another garden where small groups could gather to worship, or pray, or talk about the significance of these places, etc. Our group got to spend time in both places, eventually having a sizeable garden in which to spend some personal time and reflect.

The garden is surrounded by high brick walls that help to muffle the hustle and bustle of the city and the many tour busses nearby; it’s somewhat quiet, but by no means removed from the city’s chaotic pace. And I found myself thinking about the night Jesus may have been near this place, waiting—as it were—for the inevitable. His years of ministry had forcefully set in motion what was coming next, and while his disciples might have been sleeping, surely he was anxious.

But then I took pause. I wondered about the soldiers who were coming—not really soldiers but the religious police. John’s gospel tells us they had weapons with them and Jesus seems surprised! I found myself snickering—really, what good are weapons when you’re facing down the one who just brought Lazarus back from the dead? Surely these so-called policemen and their mob had heard of that! And then Peter, when he draws his sword and cuts of the ear of the high priest’s slave—and Jesus puts it back on! I could imagine these guys quaking in their sandals, holding shakey swords up to Jesus and asking rather politely if Jesus would help them out by coming along, that they didn’t want any trouble.

And suddenly, it was a very different kind of transaction for me. It wasn’t the High Priest or even Pilate who was going to be “in control”, not the soldiers who would eventually harm Jesus, not the disciples or even Judas who betrayed him. No! The one in control was Jesus—who would go willingly with them. The guards, having to move him along like soldiers guarding enemy prisoners with no bullets in their rifles. I now saw the captian of the guard assessing Jesus—deciding for himself in the face of the ear getting put back on, that Jesus didn’t need to be put in the cuffs!

It was almost as if Jesus wanted to die—wasn’t just willing to die, but wanted to die. To accomplish the purpose for which he’d been dispatched. Almost with a sigh of relief that the hour had finally arrived, smirking slightly as if saying to the men who’d come to possess him, “take me to your leader”—even though this so-called “leader” wouldn’t have any of the real power and authority on this night!

Jesus, having been sent to seek out and save the lost, was finally getting down to business. And he wasn’t the victim. Jesus, in his death, was the victor.

I begin with that story because sometimes (maybe even often) I think we read the gospel stories the wrong way. We read them as if we were already the experts who don’t have to pay attention to the details. It’s easy to forget that John’s Jesus isn’t an innocent victim in Jerusalem. Sometimes, his acts are intentional, intended, and pointed. John’s story points us squarely at the reality that Jesus is going to die in Jerusalem—not because he gets betrayed in the last hours of his work, but because Jesus intends to die. Mary anoints him long BEFORE Judas intervenes. And I believe that changes the nature of the story and invites us to consider some different kinds of questions for John’s story.

John’s gospel, in particular, reveals a Jesus who is intentioned. Most everything Jesus does is related to signs and symbols. Surely, when Jesus comes to Jerusalem toward the end of his life and ministry the signs and symbols surrounding and including his death and resurrection are more than just a promise of everlasting life. What about redemption; and the lost being forever found?

Theologian George Stroup observes about this morning’s gospel reading from John that,

“those who accompany Jesus on his journey to the cross include not only Mary, a faithful disciple, ..but also Judas, the unfaithful disciple who steals from the common purse and who will betray Jesus. BOTH are included in John’s story of Jesus’ death, …and their inclusion tells us a great deal about the meaning of the cross and the inclusive nature of God’s grace.”

As I read that quote this week, I had an immediate flashback to the story we read last week about the man who had two sons, the one faithful and the other seemingly not. And Stroup suggests that “within the bright, transforming light of the cross” we have to see both kinds of characters.

That raises a serious question for us, doesn’t it? What’s the deal with Judas? And does that offer us a view to what Jesus’ death really means?

We are often quick to presume that Mary is accepted by God because of her precious gift of faith, demonstrating her love for Jesus by anointing his body with the costly gift of nard. But Judas, for his part, is rejected by God because of his rejection of Jesus—betraying him and stealing the purse. Somehow, we even got the idea that we’re entitled to choose the winners and losers in the great divide between heaven and hell—eternal life and eternal damnation—too frequently believing that we control for our very selves, by our assent to faith or our rejection of it, whether we are to be heaven-bound or taken in by hell. As if OUR faith, or OUR confession were all that were required to make the difference—all that were necessary for salvation. But John’s gospel seems to argue clearly that it isn’t.

I don’t mean to suggest that we have no part in faith at all, but I want to be sure we recognize that it’s Jesus’ death that becomes the ultimate act of redemption, isn’t it? Karl Barth observes that “until he dies, Jesus has not yet loved His own unto the end.” So, not prematurely, not selfishly, not of his own accord—does Judas get Jesus killed. Not for greed, not for fame or glory, not for power or prestige—because Jesus is walking a path that is already God-determined. Jesus is not the victim in his death; he is the victor. Jesus goes to Jerusalem to accomplish this death; which seems to explain why his friends and closest followers are gathered at a funeral dinner.

So John’s story puts faithful, truth-filled Mary and unfaithful, treacherous Judas in the same scene. Yet despite what we are told of him, Judas is no less a witness of Jesus and his ministry, no less of a follower, no less of a believer. He does end up with the unfortunate position of the “betrayer,” but he is not the only one. Peter will deny Jesus three times, the disciples all scatter; but when Jesus rebukes Judas, it’s not nearly as severe as what he reserves for Peter. And unlike Peter, Judas appears to “get it,” that Jesus and his ministry are all about saving the lost and the least, the poor and hungry. As John tells the story, Judas, in his own way, “no less than any of the other disciples, serves God’s great purpose of saving the lost”—by handing Jesus over to his death. Can that still be, even if unknowingly, faith-filled?

As Christians, we believe that Jesus “came to save the lost;” and yet, we’re often found suggesting that there are some people who are more “lost” than others. Some, so “unsavory” that surely there are “limits” to God’s ability to love and save them to the end; that in fact, some people “escape” the saving work of Christ by somehow “rejecting him.” We even comfort ourselves with the idea that there surely are some people who are “too bad” to be saved; and Judas, most of the time, looks like one of those. But what if it’s true, that in his death, Jesus intends to “save the lost”? Does that include Judas and others like him?

There’s quite a tension if you hold Judas and Mary together with Jesus. We can’t pick and choose, based on our fancy, those who are heaven-bound and those to be taken in by hell. We witness Jesus willfully walking toward death to save the lost—all the lost, rejectful or not. It’s how we know there’s a place to turn around, no matter who we are or what we’ve done. It’s the goodness of God that ultimately prevails—not just when Jesus is raised, but more certainly when he dies. In a manner of speaking, only Judas can make that happen. And in an awkward way, that also makes him a hero of the story. Doesn’t it?

John’s gospel presses the point harder and farther that death isn’t always what we think it is. The worst thing in life is not having to die or pay taxes; the worst thing might be not recognizing the goodness of God and following that goodness. Judas may not have the anointing perfume for Jesus before he dies, but he does carry with him the means of Jesus’ death. While Mary prepares Jesus for death, Judas will help Jesus die. One can argue without either one, Jesus can’t complete his intended mission.

Jesus demonstrates that they can “kill him,” but it’s not the ending they think it is. This is the faith that comes from knowing that we come from God and we return from God. This is the faith that comes from learning and believing that death is not the final word. Cancer or disease, unintended consequences, bullets fired in anger, earthquakes and storms, fires, floods, winds and hail—may be the agents of death sometimes, but they are not the final judgment. Judas, for whatever accusations are thrown at him or attached to his memory, was someone who recognized God’s goodness in Jesus and followed him. And in the end, Judas had the task of becoming the one who would help make Jesus’ salvific death possible—a death Jesus was determined to accomplish in order to save the lost.

--+ AMEN.