By his hands, for our sake: A Good Friday Meditation

A sermon I preached at the Community Good Friday Service based upon Isaiah 52 and 53

Hands – hands with opposing thumbs set us apart from other mammals. Our hands receive a newborn baby or hold a crying child. Our hands show affection to a hurting friend and reach out to help an elderly person stand firmly on the ground. Our hands build homes in places where wind and water, mud and fire destroy a place of memories and safety. We can mold a lump of clay into beautiful bowls and plates or weave exquisite patterns with reeds or cloth. With our hands we can paint a masterpiece or build the Cathedral of Notre Dame for all the ages. Our hands fix an automobile, prepare a meal, program a computer, and throw a ball. Our hands with opposing thumbs are beautiful and creative, durable and empowering, a work of art that only one as divine as our Creator could imagine and create. By our hands and for the sake of God and one another, we can boast of the creative and loving things our hands have done. 

"See my servant shall be exalted and lifted up on high…” (Is. 52:13) What could this mean? “Many were astonished…because so marred was the appearance… of my servant”, “…marred beyond the form of a mortal…” (Is. 52:14) What could this mean? “There is nothing in his appearance that we should desire him…” (Is. 53:2) What can this mean? Who could this be? This servant is “…despised and rejected by others; a man of suffering and acquainted with grief and suffering…” (Is. 53:3) What can this mean? Who could this be? This servant is “…despised and is of no account…”  (Is. 53:3). By our hands and for our sake?

 

Hands – hands with opposing thumbs set us apart from other mammals. Our hands can make a fist and knock some unconscious. Our hands can pull a trigger, releasing rounds of death bullets or wield knives that maim or even kill.  Our hands with opposing thumbs can write venomous and violent letters that are filled with lies and sarcasm, and words of hatred and ignorance. Our hands can start forest fires, toss empty plastic bottles into the sea, or bludgeon endangered animals and birds to satisfy our selfish wants and attempt to satisfy our unquenchable desire more.  Our hands are able to throw stones and grenades, execute innocent people and bully the one who is odd, or strange, or different. Our hands, with opposing thumbs, can break windows, destroy property or become the preferred instruments to torture and abuse.  By our hands we can destroy life. 

This week has been a week of hands that love and hands that hate. With his hands he broke the bread and poured the wine. With his hands, Judas betrayed Jesus and with his hands threw the money in the courtyard. With his hands, Jesus washed the feet of the disciples and folded his hands in prayer. With hands, the disciples wielded a sword, cutting off the ear of soldier and with his hand he healed the ear of the soldier. With a whip in his hand, he sent the merchants and moneychangers out of the temple and with whip in hand they beat the back of our savior. With water, Pilate washed his hands, released Barabbas, and turned Jesus over to his accusers. They were the hands of Simon of Cyrene that carried the cross when Jesus could carry it no longer.  The hands of soldiers rolled dice to win the robe of Jesus and strong and mighty hands nailed the hands of Jesus to the cross and thrust the spear into his side. They were the hands of Christ who welcomed the criminal into paradise and reaches out to a sinner such as me with hands of love and grace. 

“Surely he knows our weakness” and by his hands and for our sake reaches out in love. He was “… wounded for our transgressions, crushed for our iniquities, and punished for the mistakes I have made.” For our sake, “…he was oppressed and afflicted….” Our hands “… crushed him with pain, his life an offering for my sin…” By our hands and for our sake he died that we might have life. 

Our hands have the power to give life and to take it. Whose hands betrayed our Savior? Whose hands wielded the whip that scarred our Savior’s flesh? Whose hands stripped our Savior of all dignity, tossed die to win his clothing, thrust the crown of thorns upon his head, and drove the nails into his hands and feet? Could it be? Or perhaps it was the centurion? Will we wash our hands, as Pilate washed his? Will we wield the hammer of sin and disgrace? Could it be us – or maybe it was someone else. What do you believe? 

12 Years a Slave, The Wolf of Wall Street and the Sins of Capitalism

Not long ago, I posted on my Facebook status that I had just watched 12 Years a Slave and would soon be watching my second selection, The Wolf of Wall Street. A colleague and friend commented on my status telling me how tragic the movie, 12 Years a Slave was in both movie form and in real life. Indeed it was a tragedy – Solomon Northrup is a freed slave living with his educated wife and family in Saratoga, New York. He, himself is educated and makes a living as a fiddle player. He is tricked into a drunken state and soon Solomon Northrup finds himself a slave and is no longer called Solomon Northrup, but Platt. For twelve years he tries to survive, keeping a modicum of self-respect, patiently waiting for a chance to reclaim his freedom and return to New York where his wife and children are awaiting his return. Northrup ends up on the plantation of Mr. Epps who reads the bible daily to his ‘property’, but is himself a sinful drunken sadist who believes in the corrupt principles of capitalism. It is a tragic story.

Through the power of media, the movie Twelve Years a Slave, reminds us once again of that dark and terrible time in our life as a nation.  Forcing any human being to perform under the threat of severe beatings or even death is a terrible thing. It is terrible to think that there was a time in our history where it was acceptable to own human beings, treating them as property, nothing more than a beast of burden to do our work, helping the owner to become rich. How terrible it is that there was a time in our history when there was no humanity, no conscious, and no remorse for the way we treated other human beings all for the sake of earning a dollar and living the American dream of earning more and more capital. It is a tragic story.

We fought a war, brother against brother, and family against family to end this tragedy. For the north, perhaps we fought this war on the grounds of a moral imperative that slaves were human too and no human being, under the threat of severe beatings and sub-human conditions should be used to line the pockets of wealthy landowners. For the south, the Civil War was about economics, the right to own human beings, and the right to make money, no matter the cost. 1840 was a long time ago and the Civil War ended with the emancipation of the slaves – no more would it be acceptable to own human beings as property. Fast forward to The Wolf of Wall Street, a movie about a stockbroker who in the early 1990's starts a brokerage firm and grows the company from 20 people to a staff of 250. Their status, as a trading company and as stockbrokers grows exponentially. Jordan Belfort becomes known as the wolf of Wall Street and through lies, trading schemes and lavish parties becomes filthy rich. As his fortunes continue to grow, Jordan Belfort falls into more lies, more deceit, and soon spirals, uncontrollably, into substance abuse that destroys his family and ultimately his fortune; all this deception and craziness because he believed in the American dream of getting rich and the sins of capitalism. It is a tragic story.

I am struck by the differences, yet similarities of these two stories. Although set in different eras, they are both tragic stories that I believe expose, clearly, the sins of capitalism. A scene in Twelve Years a slave showed the owner, Mr. Epps presiding over the weighing of the cotton brought in from the fields by his property, the slaves.  If Mr. Epps was not satisfied with the yield that was brought in by the slaves, he would instruct them to be beaten. Likewise, in the movie, The Wolf of Wall Street, the sentiment was the same – you stay on the phone until the person at the other end either dies or buys shares. Jordan Belfort gives motivational speeches to his team to sell, sell, and sell some more. If you do not meet the goal for the company, you are bullied and humiliated by Jordan and his staff. Sell at all cost. No conscious, no remorse, and no excuses.  It is a tragic story.

Still, we have much to learn. I tune in the radio in my car. I am a captive audience and for ten minutes, commercial after commercial, inform me that it is my duty as an American to earn and spend money. I was told of many opportunities in which to spend my money and why wouldn’t you want to spend money on yourself? After all, you deserve it.  I was chastised for keeping my cars for 10 years and encouraged to replace my ‘old clunker’ with something newer, fresher, and more exciting model – the kind that will make my buddies jealous. The holy voice from on high informed me that it was a good time to buy a house and that their realtors were ready to serve you – to get you into your new home in 30 days or less. The commercials go on and on and tell us a tragic story about capitalism that is self-indulgent, self-centered, and reckless. As I see it, all of this commercial hype is contrary to the values of serious Christians practicing their faith. I have a dream for America too and it fights mightily against the demons of capitalism. Yes, 12 Years a Slave and the Wolf of Wall Street are tragic stories, and sadly, so is the American dream. Perhaps, one day, we’ll see more clearly the sins of capitalism. 

Snow Drifts, Sand Dunes, and Spiritual Laments

It’s snowing again and the wind is blowing. It’s probably one of those days that we are grateful and happy that we have a warm house and even better if we don’t have to leave it. It’s not easy for us to find words of gratitude or words of thanksgiving on snowy, windy days. In the winter time, especially in January and February, its hard work to stay positive and happy. The blowing snow reminds me of the sand dunes in the wilderness. Just as the snow drifts into piles across our yards and fields, the same phenomenon creates the sand dunes that blow across the vastness of an open desert. When we’re traveling through the desert, we’ve got a lot of sand dunes to traverse before we find our way through the wilderness.

I think that blowing snow and sand is not unlike our personal journey into a deeper, more meaningful faith. As the Spirit blows, our feelings and experiences like a single snowflake or grain of sand blow across our spiritual landscape and sometimes it gets caught in drifting snow or sand dunes in the wilderness that  continue to build and build. Sometimes the drifts are beautiful and serene and other times it buries our hopes and our dreams and we struggle to cling to some element of wholeness and fulfillment. In a white wilderness of blowing snow or a desert on a windy day, it’s easy to lose our bearings and we find ourselves wandering through the wilderness, feeling the hopelessness with each step of a journey – a journey that seems to go nowhere. 

Within the Jewish and Christian tradition, we are blessed with songs and poetry, stories and sayings that express our joy and heartfelt thanksgiving. It is also true that there are words and images that express our disappointments and our despair. The book of Psalms is filled with happy verses of gladness and unity, comfort and prayers of celebration. There is also a large collection of the Psalms that leave us cold and wondering what we’ve read. There are Psalms of despair and anger, hopelessness and revenge and although we don’t like to read them, they are songs that have expressed the spiritual journey of someone. We call these psalms, lament psalms and they help us to get through the cold and drifting snow to a place where we are able to receive the healing love of the Holy Spirit. The lament psalms take us  into the empty wasteland of our despair so that we might see the face of God that turns our mourning into dancing, our tears of sadness into tears of unrestrained joy. The lament psalms gives us a way through the wilderness when there seems to be no other way. The lament psalms help us to be human again. 

One day the drifting snow will melt away with the warm tears of spring and the cold winds of winter will bring us sunshine and blue skies. In the meantime we’ve got a lot of living still to do. Just like winter days, our spiritual journey will pass through lonely times, painful moments, and we’ll wonder where the Spirit is leading us. As we cry out,  trying to find our voice in the darkness of winter,  the flame of God’s Spirit will be, for us, the light of a new day. The Spirit of God may fade from time to time, but it never dies away. As we continue our journey through the snow and ice, through bright days of the winter sun and the gray days of a gathering storm, the voice of God is still calling out to us and the community of the faithful are looking for us in the snow-drifts of life. Let God’s Spirit speak to you, not only when all seems right with the world, but also when the drifting storms block the entrance to your soul. If you must, sit down with the psalms of lament and let the ancient voices of faithful pilgrims speak to your heart and when you are ready, the drifting snow will begin to melt and the warmth of God’s Spirit will bring you through and the birds will sing again, the flowers will bloom again, and the sweet smell of God’s love will bring you through another day.

Speaking to our Fears at Christmas Time

After thirty plus years of hearing the Christmas story, I find myself questioning the deeper meaning of this story. Surely, this story so beloved by the generations can still speak to a rational, progressive Christian such as myself. It is clear that the gospels don’t remember this story the same way, and Apostle Paul, the first Christian writer, did not even know about birth narrative.  There are probably any number of ways that we can rationalize the Christmas story. In fact, we could even agree that the birth of Jesus did not happen in this way. Scholars and theologians over the years have even questioned the authenticity of the birth narrative and if it is really that essential for the post-modern believer.  All of this intrigues me and over 25 years of interpreting this story, I can accept that Matthew and Luke each had a different reason for remembering the birth of Jesus the way they did. I can even accept that maybe this story isn’t literally true and that this is really an effort on the part of Matthew and Luke to help us understand the distance that God will go to dwell among humanity. One could debate this in any different directions and I would welcome such a powerful conversation, but today I would like to write about one small part of the Christmas story and one that doesn’t even include Mary, Joseph, the stable or baby Jesus. As I’ve read and re-read the Christmas narrative this year, I am drawn to a small part of Luke’s narrative, of what the modern believer calls the Christmas story.

In Luke’s version of the story, the angels find the shepherds in a field watching  their sheep and the voice of God says to the shepherd, “Do not be afraid; for see – I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people…” The assumption that the shepherds were afraid draws me to reflect upon the Christ Child as a 21^st Century Christian who has certainly observed the growing despair, anxiety, and fear of the America people. It would seem that over the last 8-10 years, our civilized nation has regressed to a state that seems primitive and out of place for what many would claim as a strong Christian nation. I would argue that this has never been true, but for the sake of argument, I will accept this assumption. It would seem to me that the phrase, “…Do not be afraid…” is pointing to what seems to lie behind our facade as being a great nation of brave men and women. I think that when we are brave, we are brave for the wrong reasons. We think that having the best military in the world, somehow justifies our presupposition that we are a brave and courageous people. I think for some that is what they truly believe. I would argue that we are not. Rather, we are like the shepherds on that first Christmas morning. In fear they drew away from the voice of God. The fear was so obvious to God that the first words out the mouth of God was, “…Do not be afraid…” In many ways we are just like the shepherds on that first Christmas morning -- afraid.

It seems that behind our stoicism, our air of confidence and superiority, we are really people who are very afraid. Many of us would not admit to this, but we are. We’re afraid of changes and new experiences. We’re afraid to move away from the communities and families that we’ve known all of our lives. We’re afraid of sickness, suffering and dying. We’re afraid to be alone or quiet, always looking for one more distraction so we don’t have to face the monster within. In the middle of the night, when we find ourselves face to face with our own insecurities,  is probably the only  time that we are most honest with ourselves. As even a casual observer of the American culture, one can see how fearful we are of religious groups that believe differently than we. We are afraid of people whose skin is a different color and afraid of people who act and do things differently than we do. Instead of really having a good conversation with folks, we talk about the latest football game or basketball game. We bring up the weather, we complain about the government and we tell people that we won’t talk about money, politics or religion because we’re really afraid of being relevant, real, connected, or heaven forbid that we should believe differently than someone else. We bury our faces in our cellphones when we’re having supper with friends and choose to surround ourselves with televisions and noise so that we don’t have to have an honest, interested, and stimulating conversation with other people, lest we disagree or even have a robust debate.  We are a fearful people and we are  folks who have a lot of difficulty trusting one another and even trusting God. When we experience a faith crisis in our life, we are more than likely experiencing a lack of trust in God and in God's actions. Ultimately, this translates into fear. 

During this time of year, when the world seems safer than any other time,  we are invited into a world where the shepherds heard about something new, a new King that the angels proclaimed was the Messiah, the one we will come to know as Christ Jesus.  The shepherds on the hillside remind us of our own vulnerabilities, our own insecurities, or our own distrust of God and one another. In the night, while shepherds watched their flocks, the voice of God comes into our darkness and touches our fearful hearts with words that inspired the shepherds to make haste and go to Bethlehem to worship the Messiah who is Christ the Lord. 

Even in times when Christmas is a distant memory or still a long way off, we can come face to face with our humanness and hear the angels sing. In our discomfort and in our uncertainty, we can remember the Christ child who was born in less than ideal circumstances and we can still follow the star that leads us to a place where we can find peace and comfort, joy and wholeness and a place where we can hear the angels proclaim to us again, “...Fear not for I bring you good news!” As the apostle Paul writes, “…nothing can separate us from the Love of God in Christ Jesus." This I can believe.