The Nature of Joy

Service of Comfort and Contemplation¹

John 9:1-5

Allen Huff

Jonesborough Presbyterian Church

12/16/18

^1-2 Walking down the street, Jesus saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked, “Rabbi, who sinned: this man or his parents, causing him to be born blind?”

^3-5 Jesus said, “You’re asking the wrong question. You’re looking for someone to blame. There is no such cause-effect here. Look instead for what God can do. We need to be energetically at work for the One who sent me here, working while the sun shines. When night falls, the workday is over. For as long as I am in the world, there is plenty of light. I am the world’s Light.”(The Message)

To understand an experience of pain, any kind of pain, the ancient mind assumed guilt and judgment. Suffering came only to those who deserved it. Many contemporary minds continue to associate sin and suffering. To be sure, selfish or reckless decisions can lead to suffering for ourselves and others. I have certainly caused pain to myself and to others. And the lingering Calvinist in me tends to think I deserve to feel all of that suffering.

There is also more than enough random suffering out there for all of us. And the Christ in me knows that no one deserves to suffer a life-diminishing illness, the death of someone they love, depression, physical/sexual/emotional abuse, exclusion from community, or the ravages of natural disaster, random violence, or war. What we all deserve is people to walk with us through those experiences, people who will hold us, encourage us, sit quietly with us, weep with us.

Those people reveal the nature of true joy. Joy is not mere gladness and celebration. It isn’t having our wants satisfied. Nor does joy fall for the easy, everything-happens-for-a-reason platitude. That’s just another way to lay blame on those who suffer, or on God, and then to distance ourselves from suffering. Biblically speaking, joy is a fierce hope-in-the-midst-of-suffering. It’s that white-knuckled, red-faced trust that God can and does forge new wholeness and purpose out of even the fieriest of furnaces.

Joy might even be described as the faith that throws us into suffering, our own and that of others, knowing that pain is not God’s will, and that God is in the midst of it, not causing it but redeeming it. That’s what Christmas is all about – God entering human suffering.

In his book The Magnificent Defeat, Frederick Buechner says this about Jesus: “He does not seem to have had much sense of humor, and unconsciously, I think, we cannot quite forgive him for that because for us it is one of the major virtues; but in order to laugh, it is necessary to step back from life a little, whereas he almost never steps back, but keeps moving deeper and deeper into the world’s pain, everyone’s pain, which becomes his own because this is the way love moves…”²

“God is love,” says John. So for us, Jesus – Emmanuel, God With Us – is himself Incarnate Love moving into our midst. To me, that makes Christmas more than a celebration. It’s our prophetic declaration that in Jesus of Nazareth, God enters the world in all its beauty and possibility, and all its frailty and brokenness. In Jesus, God immerses God’s own self in our midst fully, inextricably, and creatively. The Incarnation affirms our humanity and the goodness of the created order; and God reaffirms God’s commitment to be with us and for us. Now. Always.

I pray that some unexpected grace reveals to you where God is present in the midst of your own suffering. And I pray that in this season, and throughout your lives, you experience the redeeming and abiding presence of the Incarnate Christ – the true joy who is leading us into the light.

¹This homily was used in a service often called a “Blue Christmas Service.” Such services are held to acknowledge that the Christmas season is not one of happiness and laughter for everyone. The intent is to hold one another’s suffering and declare God’s whole-making presence in the world through the Incarnate Jesus.

²Frederick Buechner. From his sermon “The Tiger,” in The Magnificent Defeat. Harper/San Francisco, 1966; p. 94.

*To read sermons, newsletters, and other posts from earlier years, please visit: https://pastorallentn.blogspot.com

         Below is the third and final verse of a hymn entitled “‘Sleepers Awake!’ A Voice Astounds Us.”

Lamb of God, the heavens adore you;
let saints and angels sing before you,
as harps and cymbals swell the sound.
Twelve great pearls, the city’s portals:
through them we stream to join the immortals
as we with joy your throne surround.

       No eye has known the sight,

       no ear heard such delight: Alleluia!

Therefore we sing to greet our King;

for ever let our praises ring.

         “Sleepers Awake!” is #17 in the Presbyterian Hymnal.(The “blue hymnal” for all you PC(USA) folks.) In the office copy of the hymnal we track how often particular hymns are used in worship. There is no date next to #17, so it may be true, at least in our midst, that “no eye has known the sight, no ear heard such delight” as one might discover in that hymn.

          There aren’t many Advent songs in our hymnal, and we use only a precious few of those available. If we allow for “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” one Sunday, then make a bee-line for “Angels We Have Heard on High” and “Joy to the World!”, we miss crucial elements of the story.

         One of the struggles during Advent is actually observing Advent. Many American Christians jump into Christmas by the time darkness falls on Thanksgiving Day and they’re loading leftover turkey onto white bread slathered in mustard and mayo. That’s why we see all those Frazier firs wrapped in huge hairnets and strapped to the tops of cars the next day. Christmas without Advent, though, is kind of like playing Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony on a kazoo. You might recognize the melodic Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee theme, but it’s not a symphony of four movements in all its complexity, subtlety, and majesty. Both performing and listening to such a masterpiece requires some understanding and practice – that is to say, preparation.

         To experience the wonder of Christmas (not the doe-eyed Santa brought me stuff wonder, but the transforming, then we will see face-to-face wonder) we really must prepare ourselves, because it’s not Christmas morning we’re preparing for. We’re preparing for a life of encounter with the God who enters human existence in all its suffering, sadness, and futility as well as its holiness, joy, and hope. Advent immerses us in the wider and deeper story so that we acknowledge Christmas as more than “Jesus’ birthday.” Advent reminds us that Jesus is more than a memorable melody. He’s the theme, the thread that holds together God’s great opus of creation. And Christmas, the celebration of the ongoing Incarnation, is the defining movement in the masterpiece.

         “No eye has known the sight, no ear heard such delight,” declares the hymn. I know the language, but not the tune. What might that new thing reveal, though? How might it help us to prepare to come face-to-face with God whose presence is both incarnate and mysterious, immediate and timeless?

         How might we prepare ourselves to be moved beyond the momentary happiness of Merry Christmas! to the endless surprise of the all-in love of God embodied in the suffering joy of a human being named Jesus of Nazareth?

                                             Peace,

                                                      Allen

*For previous entries, please visit: https://pastorallentn.blogspot.com.

Thanksgiving: An Answer to the Cold

Allen Huff

Interfaith Thanksgiving Service

Munsey Memorial United Methodist Church

11/18/18

         I don’t know what that first winter was like. Hailing from GA, I don’t even know what real cold feels like. I’ve never had to watch people dying of starvation, exposure, and disease. The worst I’ve had to endure was an ice storm that knocked out the power for 48 hours. And because of a decent roof, a fireplace, a propane stove, our most noticeable losses were hot water and the TV.

         I can’t imagine enduring a deadly winter, make good on a harvest, then prepare for yet another harsh winter by turning my heart outward to give thanks to God.

         Instead of feasting, I would have said, “No! Don’t eat all that! We have to preserve everything we can, or we’ll be eating tree bark!”

         While the stories of the first Thanksgiving have been romanticized and exaggerated, they do proclaim a deep truth about gratitude. The earth’s plenty is not our doing or deserving. As creatures who belong to the earth, and not vice versa, we receive, celebrate, and share an abundance we did not create. And we’re called to steward the planet, passing its gifts from generation to generation like a family around a table passing plates of turkey, bowls of green beans, and baskets of warm, buttered bread. We take what we need while leaving plenty for others.

         For many, the Thanksgiving holiday devolves into the sin of gluttony. So, perhaps it’s up to people of faith to set a visible example of Thanksgiving as a tithe of gratitude rather than a feast of entitlement. A time for extravagant praise rather than excessive consumption.

         Recent weeks, months, and even years have been, for many in our nation, a kind of bitter winter. Yes, meteorological and cultural climates are warming. Fires are burning. Seas are rising. Sabers are rattling. And in synagogues, mosques, churches, schools, homes, and night clubs, guns are thundering. It seems to me that all of that heat is connected to a deep, interior coldness. Fear, prejudice, and greed are a heavy, killing frost on the human heart and, therefore, on our ability to live faithfully and gratefully. Without faith and gratitude, neither neighbor nor future really matter. Without faith and gratitude, we rely on our own broken selves, on money, might, and meanness. And humankind seems to gather and spend these things in wanton excess.

         The psalmist writes: “May those who sow in tears reap with shouts of joy. Those who go out weeping, bearing the seed for sowing, shall come home with shouts of joy, carrying their sheaves.” (Ps. 126:5-6 NRSV)

         We are people of faith – not all the same faith traditions, but people of faith, nonetheless. And I think that God is calling us to recognize – together– the weeping around us, the violent ice storms of greed and poverty, and what often appears to be the permafrost of fear.

         I think God is calling us to till the soil of our hearts and shout thanksgiving to God, because in times of challenge and insecurity, extravagant praise can be medicine for weary and heavy hearts.

         So, no, the first Thanksgiving probably did not look like the images we show our children, and those first immigrants to America sowed many bitter tears on the icy ground of uncertainty and grief. Yet the community survived. And for both better and worse, others came. A new nation began to take shape. As current citizens of that nation, our work includes celebrating and stewarding this place we call home. We are a diverse bunch, and if we can find the humility and the grace to do so, we can speak a unified, prophetic voice. A voice that proclaims a new hope, a new community. My tradition calls that the kingdom of God.

         To use an image from one of Jesus’ parables: “The kingdom of God is as if someone would scatter seed on the ground, ²⁷and would sleep and rise night and day, and the seed would sprout and grow, he does not know how.” (Mark 4:26-27) The sower doesn’t understand how it all works, but the seeds grow and become something to be reaped, something to be harvested in gratitude and shared in generosity.

         This Thanksgiving, may we all avoid gluttonous and entitled consumption. Instead, may we stop to remember where and how God has sown goodness around us and blessed us with enough – enough food, community, and love to see us through any winter.

         May we harvest joyfully the bountiful goodness of a giving God. And may we express our thanks not by getting and having, but by receiving what we need and passing the plates around.

“Beyond the Metrics”

Mark 12:28-34

Allen Huff

Jonesborough Presbyterian Church

11/18/18

²⁸One of the scribes came near and heard them disputing with one another, and seeing that he answered them well, he asked him, “Which commandment is the first of all?”

²⁹Jesus answered, “The first is, ‘Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God, the Lord is one; ³⁰you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.’ ³¹The second is this, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no other commandment greater than these.”

³²Then the scribe said to him, “You are right, Teacher; you have truly said that ‘he is one, and besides him there is no other’; ³³and ‘to love him with all the heart, and with all the understanding, and with all the strength,’ and ‘to love one’s neighbor as oneself,’ —this is much more important than all whole burnt offerings and sacrifices.”

³⁴When Jesus saw that he answered wisely, he said to him, “You are not far from the kingdom of God.”

After that no one dared to ask him any question. (NRSV)

         The first version of creation in the Bible shows God creating humankind after having created water, land, plants, and animals. And in that story, there’s no Adam and Eve. No dust, or breath, or rib. Just humankind. All at once. Poof. Made in God’s image.

         In the second version of creation, God creates water, land, and plants, then the human being, the adam. In Genesis 2:18 we read this remarkable sentence: “Then the Lord God said, ‘It is not good that the [adam] should be alone.’” (Gen. 2:18a) To be complete, the adam must be in relationship. So, God creates the animals, but ultimately it takes another adam, because it takes two human beings to make a whole.

         The creation stories transcend history and science. They’re poetry. Revelation not information. Mystery not metrics. So, the fact that they can’t be reconciled – and aren’t supposed to be – is good news. That allows us to hear them bearing common witness to two fundamental things: Before, beneath, and beyond the creation is the presence of an eternal, creative, relationship-seeking energy. There have been countless names for that energy. The ancient Hebrews used Yahweh, or the Lord. We usually use the name God, and we think in terms of the dynamic image of Trinity – Father/Son/Holy Spirit.

         Imagining God as one and three at the same time implies the second thing: Relationship. And not simply relationship, but wholeness in relationship.

         Human beings are the image of God by virtue of relationship. And the word that defines that foundational, identifying relationship is love. According to 1John, “God is love.” (1John 4:16b) Pure and unsentimental, but animated and animating love. So, we are created by love, in love, for love. Everything that follows the creation stories, the entire Law and the Prophets, is commentary on that fundamental faith statement. So, anything that follows the creation stories and contradicts the affirmation that God is love, anything that follows the creation stories and suggests that love can’t be trusted to enlighten, redeem, and overcome the reality of un-love at work in the world, is just another bite into the apple, another attempt to occupy God’s place.

         Having said that, it often appears that holy and eternal love is a fantasy. That’s why, adam added laws and limits, constructs and creeds – to create comprehensible metrics by which we compare and judge, by which we reward and rebuke. There are over 600 convoluted laws in the Torah, and I imagine that for faithful, first-century Jews, the question of which laws were most important was probably as urgent as asking why, if God is powerful, loving, and just, do bad things happen.

         The scribe’s question is simple and direct. “Which commandment is first of all?”

         Jesus’ response is equally simple and direct. Love God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength. And love others no less than you love yourself. That’s it, he says. “There is no other commandment greater than these.”

         I agree, says the scribe. To love God and neighbor surpasses everything else.

         Good for you,says Jesus. You are standing at the threshold of God’s kingdom.

         The trouble with this Jesus-love is that it defies neat categories and measurements. As a posture we take before God and before each other, Jesus-love is a way of life in relationship, in community. According to the Gospel of John, one of the last things Jesus says to his disciples is “love one another…as I have loved you…By this everyone will know that you are my disciples.” (John 13:34a, 35a) To love as Jesus loves does not and cannot earn us favor with God. To love as Jesus loves puts us in God’s presence. So, to practice Jesus-love bears witness to God, and to our faith in God, far more concretely and memorably than any I believestatement ever can.

         The metrics we create for ourselves – the statements of dogma, the intricacies of polity, and the observable acts of morality – can help to define what we believe, but such things cannot save us. Indeed, if the belief systems we develop and the communities we build do not free us to love beyond the boundaries of our fears, then they separate us from God. When that happens, they become, by definition, sin.

         “It is not good that the [human being] should be alone.”

         Love God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength. And love others no less than you love yourself.

         I think these two passages establish the bedrock of all religious faith. We are fashioned by a creator whose own essence is vibrant relationship. Because we have been created for relationship with our creator and with other creatures – and that means all creation not simply other human beings – we cannot be whole until we accept and celebrate our intimate connectedness to all things.

         Studies have shown that living in isolation causes significant psychological, emotional, and even physical trauma. Jesus’ healings are less about restoring an individual to physical health than they are about restoring community – for everyone. Creating space for relationship is one reason communities do things like build Senior Centers, organize civic clubs, repertory theaters, sports teams, and hold parades, storytelling festivals, and concerts on town square. It’s why one of the things churches must do, and must do well, is to encourage visitation – and not simply by pastors and parish nurses. Ours is a shared ministry. We don’t gather in Jesus’ name only in Sunday school, worship, at book studies, family lunches, and choir practice. Every time we gather we gather in the presence of Love,and we embody incarnate Love.

         Sure, it’s much easier to limit our realm of connectedness. I often try to spare myself a lot of hassle by saying, This is what’s real – right here, inside these walls, where people look like me, talk like me, believe like me, and won’t hold me accountable for the sins we share.

         It’s also true that we all need solitude. Creating time to think, reflect, and pray is to create time to grow and heal in God’s presence. And the point is to return to community refreshed, ready to be whole and fully human, again. To sequester ourselves too much, however, is to choose isolation. It’s to choose to live outside the kingdom of God.

         There’s a crucial attribute to loving beyond the metrics. In a recent interview, Presbyterian pastor, teacher, and author Eugene Peterson names humility as utterly indispensable to healthy human relationships and communities. He defines humility as “a way of living your life in relationship to others without competing.”¹ We’re brought up to be ambitions, he says, and when ambition devolves into competition, relationships and communities fall apart.

         Competition can be fun. It can also be instructive. It can teach us how to value our strengths and admit our weaknesses. It can teach us how to value, cooperate with, and rely on others. However, when we live competitively, when we exalt ourselves as winners and belittle others as losers, we lose touch with God and neighbor. And we create little pockets of hell around us.

         Love God. Love neighbor.To love is not simply to do what’s right. To love is to become fully and gratefully human, so that even here and now, we inhabit and proclaim the kingdom of God.

¹https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LaMgIvbXqSk

*To read sermons, newsletters, and other posts from earlier years, please visit: https://pastorallentn.blogspot.com.

“No Silver or Gold”

1Sam 9:15-21 and Acts 3:1-10

Allen Huff

Jonesborough Presbyterian Church

11/4/18

¹⁵Now the day before Saul came, the Lord had revealed to Samuel: ¹⁶“Tomorrow about this time I will send to you a man from the land of Benjamin, and you shall anoint him to be ruler over my people Israel. He shall save my people from the hand of the Philistines; for I have seen the suffering of my people, because their outcry has come to me.”

¹⁷When Samuel saw Saul, the Lord told him, “Here is the man of whom I spoke to you. He it is who shall rule over my people.”

¹⁸Then Saul approached Samuel inside the gate, and said, “Tell me, please, where is the house of the seer?”

¹⁹Samuel answered Saul, “I am the seer; go up before me to the shrine, for today you shall eat with me, and in the morning I will let you go and will tell you all that is on your mind. ²⁰As for your donkeys that were lost three days ago, give no further thought to them, for they have been found. And on whom is all Israel’s desire fixed, if not on you and on all your ancestral house?”

²¹Saul answered, “I am only a Benjaminite, from the least of the tribes of Israel, and my family is the humblest of all the families of the tribe of Benjamin. Why then have you spoken to me in this way?”(1Sam 9:15-21 NRSV)

3One day Peter and John were going up to the temple at the hour of prayer, at three o’clock in the afternoon. ²And a man lame from birth was being carried in. People would lay him daily at the gate of the temple called the Beautiful Gate so that he could ask for alms from those entering the temple. ³When he saw Peter and John about to go into the temple, he asked them for alms.

⁴Peter looked intently at him, as did John, and said, “Look at us.” ⁵And he fixed his attention on them, expecting to receive something from them.

⁶But Peter said, “I have no silver or gold, but what I have I give you; in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, stand up and walk.”

⁷And he took him by the right hand and raised him up; and immediately his feet and ankles were made strong. ⁸Jumping up, he stood and began to walk, and he entered the temple with them, walking and leaping and praising God.

⁹All the people saw him walking and praising God, ¹⁰and they recognized him as the one who used to sit and ask for alms at the Beautiful Gate of the temple; and they were filled with wonder and amazement at what had happened to him.(Acts 3:1-10 NRSV)

         On my first trip to Malawi back in 2005, we arrived in the capital city of Lilongwe on a Friday. Walking through downtown on our way to the grocery store to stock up for the coming ten days, we were moved, humbled, and unsettled. All around us, people on crude crutches and canes hobbled around. Our host, resident missionary Frank Dimmock, told us that there was a significant Muslim presence in Malawi, and on Fridays, by religious obligation, Muslims gave alms to the poor. So those with no other means, crept out of the Malawian woodwork on Fridays and crawled about town, begging for money. It was like going back in time 2000 years.

         Like disabled Malawians in the 21^stcentury, the Palestinian man Peter encounters in the 1^stcentury begged for whatever folks would drop in his cup as they made their way to the temple. Begging was the only livelihood for such folks, and maybe they found people on their way to worship a trifle more willing to give than they when on the way to a meeting, or to the marketplace. Maybe to avoid the burden of guilt as they prayed, people would deposit a token of the concern they knew they were supposed to have for the poor.

         Being nothing more than fearful obligation, guilt may not encourage real commitment, build true relationships, or bear grateful witness to the Gospel; but it can motivate. Guilt is the reason for the old joke about folks coming to church because of having a drug problem. Their mamas drug them to church when they were young, so they just keep dragging themselves in. They can’t risk making mama angry.

         The Session genuinely hopes that no one experiences our yearly appeals as the guilt-inducing cries of beggars, or the fearful manipulations of folks with “drug” problems. We know that asking for commitments, financial and otherwise, can create uneasiness. It can even feel threatening. So, please know this: What the Session asks of the rest of the congregation, we ask of ourselves. And just as we have asked you to give prayerfully, we have tried to askprayerfully and gratefully.

         Sensing Jonesborough Presbyterian’s underlying health and well-being as well as its challenges, we hope that this and every stewardship season declares our faith in God’s faith in us, God’s call to us, God’s vision for us as an intentional Christian community of welcome, gratitude, celebration, and generous service.

         Having said all that, I also believe that God sees more in us than we often see in ourselves, individually and collectively. And when we realize that, we may feel God asking more of us than we think we can give, or maybe more than we wantto give.

         A Hebrew mystic named Samuel speaks to a young man named Saul. Welcome!says Samuel.We’ve been expecting you. You are the desire and the hope of all Israel.

         A bewildered Saul says, You talking to me? Look, I’m here only because I was hoping you could help me find my daddy’s donkey. It ran off. What’s all this business about being the desire of all Israel?

         At the very inception of his kingship, Saul reveals his Achilles heel, and, perhaps, the Achilles heel of all human kings. He doesn’t, and perhaps even refuses to understand the empowering presence and work of the Spirit of God. At one point, a deeply disappointed Samuel confronts Saul saying, “Though you are little in your own eyes,” God has chosen you, Saul, to be king over Israel. “God has anointed you with a Spirit of leadership.” No, it won’t be easy, but God is with you. So get over yourself, and let’s go!

         Saul’s problem is that when he looks at himself, he sees a man lame since birth. And he never grasps the blessedness and the possibility of having been chosen and anointed by God. So, never really accepting his own giftedness, much less God’s faithfulness, Saul never serves anyone but himself.

         Compare that to Peter’s reaction when he sees a man who was indeed born lame. Penniless himself, the apostle might have turned his purse inside out to show the man that he has no money. But Peter knows better. He knows he has something to offer.

         “I have no silver or gold,” says Peter, “but what I have I give you; in the name of Jesus…, stand up and walk.”

         To everyone’s amazement – maybe even Peter’s own amazement – the man gets up and walks. No longer a mere recipient, the man is empowered to participate in the fullness of life – in the fullness of his own life. He can now give as well as receive.

         Sometimes, like Saul, we protest against the call to involvement. Who me teach Sunday School, or serve as an elder, or make a difference in the church budget? I don’t have enough time, or authority, or money – or desire – for all that.

         Or like the man born lame, sometimes we arrive at the church every week only to receive. Only to have our “batteries recharged,” or to assuage some deep-seated guilt by showing up and doing what’s “right.”

         And yet, sometimes, by God’s revitalizing grace, like the Apostle Peter, we bear witness to the empowering name of Jesus. That’s the most difficult and demanding place to be, because it requires us to trust and serve the risen Christ before everything else. And that is our call, to claim our giftedness and commit ourselves to God.

         Let’s remember, too, that faithful discipleship doesn’t materialize in a single day, much less a single decision. Being about relationship, discipleship is organic. We start where we are, then grow and become.

         Peter himself didn’t always have the faith he demonstrates that day at the Beautiful Gate in Jerusalem. He’s the same guy to whom Jesus says, “Get behind me Satan!” He’s the same guy who repeatedly denies Jesus in his hour of need. Nonetheless, a spiritually renewed Apostle Peter shows us what joyful discipleship looks like. He demonstrates that generosity is to gratitude what suffering is to love. They’re of a piece, inseparable.

         A congregation’s leaders find themselves in Samuel’s and Peter’s shoes during stewardship season, and those shoes are unnervingly big. We’re responsible for proclaiming that in Jesus’ name, all of us are empowered to get up and walk, and to experience and share the infectious joy of living in God’s kingdom, even here and now.

         On this Consecration Sunday, if we’re struggling with what to give, or even whether to make a commitment at all – Samuel and Peter ask us this:

         What prevents you from trusting that you have, and will continue to have, something of great value to offer?

         You may be little in your own eyes, but you – by yourselves and all together – have been anointed by the Holy Spirit of God. So, in the name of Jesus, get up, claim and offer your full selves to God!

*To read sermons, newsletters, and other posts from earlier years, please visit: https://pastorallentn.blogspot.com.

         I love the transitional seasons. With its bright newness and warmth, spring never disappoints. And there’s something just as exciting about the way autumn scolds the dog days of summer and sends them slinking under the porch. The fragrances, the bold colors, and the cold sting in the air evoke fresh visions of hospitality and community. It’s time to squirrel away things we need for the winter. Most of all we need each other’s presence, each other’s warmth.

         The changes of autumn also alter the rhythms of daily life. The days shorten. We take a little longer to dress in layers. We have to walk the dog earlier to walk in the light. Deeper into fall, toward the winter solstice, we start burning fires in the fireplace for warmth and atmosphere. We sit by the fire with a good book and a cup of hot chocolate or hot tea. When seeing our breath on an icy morning, there’s something quickening about the steamy reminder that we’re alive, but something foreshadowing about how quickly that little mist disappears.

         While these earthly realities offer great beauty and pleasure, the changing of seasons also reminds us of our mortality. Through faithful transformations from one season to the next, our lives ebb and flow, and evolve.

         When we are young, changes mean greater strength, mobility, freedom, and possibility. As we age, the changes mean less flexibility, waning strength, more aches, pains, and uncertainty. As our minds and hearts change, however, wisdom also makes us aware of the extraordinary potential within our limitations. When we get past the lamentations of what we is lost, the autumn of life gifts us with deeper and clearer vision of who we are and what is possible as human beings.

         To me, then, the season of Thanksgiving celebrates more than our nation. As followers of Jesus, Thanksgiving – Gratitude– is a way of life. Like prayer, it’s a spiritual posture before God. When things fall apart around us and within us, God’s creative holiness and forgiving love continue unhindered. Our understanding of those gifts may change, but God’s faithfulness never wavers.

         In yet another year in which the Creation has experienced overwhelming change and challenge, let’s remember that while we may not have been personally hit by the violence of mass shootings, hate crimes, war, or devastating natural disasters, we are called to pray for and be present to those who have. Jesus empowers us to live differently, with greater compassion and a deeper commitment to justice and peace. Through the unlikely likes of us, God can return a sense of purpose and hope to broken lives and makes them thankful, once again. Our lives, then, become proclamations of the promise that nothing at all in heaven or on earth can “separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

Peace,

Allen

*To read sermons, newsletters, and other posts from earlier years, please visit: https://pastorallentn.blogspot.com.

“From Jericho to Jerusalem”
Mark 10:46-52
Allen Huff
Jonesborough Presbyterian Church
10/28/18

⁴⁶They came to Jericho. As he and his disciples and a large crowd were leaving Jericho, Bartimaeus son of Timaeus, a blind beggar, was sitting by the roadside.⁴⁷When he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to shout out and say, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”

⁴⁸Many sternly ordered him to be quiet, but he cried out even more loudly, “Son of David, have mercy on me!”

⁴⁹Jesus stood still and said, “Call him here.”

And they called the blind man, saying to him, “Take heart; get up, he is calling you.”

⁵⁰So throwing off his cloak, he sprang up and came to Jesus.

⁵¹Then Jesus said to him, “What do you want me to do for you?”

The blind man said to him, “My teacher, let me see again.”

⁵²Jesus said to him, “Go; your faith has made you well.” Immediately he regained his sight and followed him on the way. (NRSV)

         2000 years ago, Jericho, which lies about 20 miles east of Jerusalem, had already occupied a mythic place in Jewish memory for some 1400 years.

         Let’s recall the story: After Moses’ death, Joshua assumes leadership of the Israelites, and inaugurates the era of the judges. The book of Joshua records the pivotal experiences of what becomes, officially, the post-Exodus period for Israel. And according to Joshua, Jericho is the first community that the Israelites encounter after entering the Promised Land for the first time. And this once-enslaved and oppressed people wastes no time in casting its long-suffering shadow on others. They not only destroy the city of Jericho, they kill every living thing in it. And they do so believing that their brutality honors and pleases God. “They devoted to destruction by the edge of the sword all the city, both men and women, young and old, oxen, sheep, and donkeys.” (Joshua 6:21) The word of the Lord, thanks be to God?

         Now, I understand the dangers of judging extremely different cultures against each other, but why is it that we tend to gloss over transparent terrorism simply because a story appears in scripture? As if even God ignores the sixth commandment when we, in God’s name, kill outside our tribes?

         The period of the judges gives way to the era of the kings, which quickly culminates in the rise of David. While this new era is equally as violent as that of the judges, God does promise that the Messiah, a one-of-a-kind deliverer, will rise from the house of David. It will, however, take many generations of unfaithfulness, death-dealing, and exile before this person arrives and reveals the deep and dynamic message of Shalom – the message of eternal and whole-making peace – that forms the foundation of Jewish scripture and memory.

         So, with all that as backdrop, here’s the scene: Jesus and his disciples have been in Jericho. They’re about to leave for Jerusalem, a name which means something like “foundation of peace.”¹ It’s Passover time, and for all its spiritual roots and implications, Passover is also thoroughly political. Whether he knows it or not, Caesar is the new Pharaoh. And he probably does know that the Jews worship a God who, they claim, led them out of Egypt, through the Exodus, into the Promised Land, gave them King David, and who will send someone from David’s line to deliver them once and for all. That means that every year during Passover, the Romans are on high alert.

         Then, as Jesus and his disciples leave Jericho, surrounded by a stew of Jewish excitement and Roman anxiety, a blind beggar becomes aware that Jesus is nearby.

         “Jesus, Son of David,” he cries, “have mercy on me!”

         Shut up! say the people around him.

         Their rebuke is urgent and fearful. If a Roman soldier hears someone use the title Son of David, and runs that up the chain of command, there will be trouble. Son of Davidis messianic language. The average Roman recruit may not know that, but it only takes one person with a little knowledge or suspicion to fan the flames. And if Rome overreacts, Jericho could become a place in which the descendants of those whom Joshua led will die as brutally as their ancestors had killed.

         Unphased, Bartimaeus cries out even louder, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”

         This time Jesus calls him over. What do you want? Jesus asks.

         I want to see, says Bartimaeus.

         Fair enough, says Jesus. There, you can see.

         Today’s story is fairly straightforward – even the part about the healing. It’s the stories around the story that make this event memorable. Bartimaeus uses the messianic title, Son of David – in Jericho – as Jesus heads toward Jerusalem – for Passover.

         While discussing this text during Sunday school last week, someone helped us focus on Son of David. And it’s not simply Bartimaeus’ use of the title, but the fact that Jesus responds to it so openly. Throughout the gospel of Mark, Jesus tells everyone from demons to disciples to keep quiet about his identity. But in Jericho, twenty miles from Jerusalem, just days before Passover, when called Son of Davidby a blind beggar, Jesus says, That’s me. Then he turns and enters Jerusalem with triumphal fanfare reminiscent of that used by the Hebrews to topple the walls of Jericho a millennium-and-a-half earlier.

         Jesus is God’s truly unique and remarkable servant. And to virtually everyone’s chagrin, he reveals that the Messiah is not what judges, kings, and nations long for – because the LORD is not a God of brutality and nationalistic conceit.

         What follows in Jerusalem during Passover is a flurry of religious and political collusion. The Jewish leaders incite fear and fury in their people, and they demand that Rome execute Jesus who claims to be the Messiah, but who loves the unlovable, touches the untouchable, welcomes the stranger, and, in the minds of the Pharisees, plays fast and loose with the Law. Rome isn’t really afraid of Jesus, but killing someone is easy enough. And it’s one hell of a visual aid in the endless propaganda war to protect power and status.

         What power-blind folks like Caesar can’t foresee or understand is that Jesus’ death leads to his resurrection. And his resurrection elucidates his life. And his life, death, resurrection, and new life, declare that the selfish fears and desires of kings and nations are short-sighted, and that their tenures of domination are as temporary as the eras of the Hebrewjudges and kings – especially when they worship the kind of violence used to destroy Jericho. Don’t we know now that not even the great and glorious Rome would survive the culture she created for herself?

         So, where in all this heavy stuff is the Good News?

         Jesus says to Bartimaeus, “Your faith has made you well.” Many people hear stories like this and conclude that either the story is fiction or they just don’t have enough faith for Jesus to help them. For the most part, the Church has endorsed the latter. It’s relatively easy and safe to distance oneself from suffering by blaming those who suffer. But what if the faith that heals Bartimaeus isn’t his faith that Jesus can heal physical blindness so much as his faith that Jesus is the Son of David?

         After all, isn’t that what Jesus wants in disciples? The bold vision that sees, regardless of eyesight, the truth about who he is, about what his life means for us, and what our lives mean to him? In the stories leading up to this moment, it’s clear that Jesus’ disciples don’t understand what messiahship means. They tried to tell Jesus what he will and won’t do as Messiah, and they’ve argued among themselves about who’s the greatest.

         Even among disciples, blindness often masquerades as fatalistic reliance on violence. So, in the name of God and in the name of Rome, someone is always ready to “devote to destruction” anyone we label a threat. Enslaved to worldly logic, someone is always ready to plaster on the side of their van, “Kill your enemy and those who rob you then take them to Everglade [sic] for gators.”²Or to post on social media, ironically enough: “I can’t sit by and watch my people get slaughtered. Screw your optics, I’m going in.”³

         But Bartimaeus – the newest and truest disciple – gets it. So, when Jesus enters Jerusalem, he does so with at least one pair of eyes that sees him, recognizes him, and trusts him.

         Sometimes we live healed lives, sometimes not so much. And in all our Jerichos, Jesus remains close to the Bartimaeus within us. He waits for us to see him through our darkness, to call out to him, and trust him: The Son of David.

         The one in whom God is most fully and graciously revealed.

         The one who saves us not simply from sin but for lives of new-sighted witness, worship, and celebration.

         The one who says, “Do not fear those who kill the body, and after that can do nothing more.” (Luke 12:4)

         The one whose cross, through the miracle of Easter, reveals the fundamental impotence of human violence, and the redeeming power of God’s eternal love for us and for all Creation.

¹ https://www.biblehub.com/hebrew/3389.htm

²From Cesar Sayoc’s van: https://www.msn.com/en-us/news/us/a-white-van-laden-with-stickers-is-at-center-of-bombing-investigation/ar-BBOWX9y?li=BBnbcA1

3Robert Bowers’ Gab post before committing mass murder in the Tree of Life Synagogue in Pittsburg, PA: https://www.msn.com/en-us/news/us/what-we-know-about-robert-bowers-suspect-in-pittsburgh-synagogue-shooting/ar-BBOYLjR?li=BBnb7Kz

*To read sermons, newsletters, and other posts from earlier years, please visit: https://pastorallentn.blogspot.com.