From Jericho to Jerusalem (Sermon)

*As of 10/29/18, I will begin posting all sermons on

www.jabbokinthefoothills.blog

I will continue posting on this site for another month,
afterward all posts will appear on the new site only.
Allen


“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.”¹It’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 onSon 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’ deathleads 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 shecreated for herself?

         So, where’s the Good News in all this?

         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 faiththat heals Bartimaeus isn’t his faith that Jesus can heal physical blindness so much as his faith that Jesus isthe 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, someoneis always ready to “devote to destruction” anyone we label a threat. Enslaved to worldly logic, someone is always ready to say, “Kill your enemy and those who rob you then take them to Everglade [sic] for gators.”²Or to say, 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 fromsin but forlives 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’ words 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

The Church as a Microcosm of the Kingdom (Sermon)

“The Church as a Microcosm of the Kingdom”

Psalm 104:1-16, 24

Allen Huff

Jonesborough Presbyterian Church

10/21/18

         On Sunday mornings we have one purpose – to worship God and God alone. Yes, we bring with us all our fears and hopes, all our disappointments and joys, and all other identities and loyalties. But when worship begins, we’re called to focus on the one who transcends and redeems all of that. When comprised by people of Christlike faithfulness, a church outgrows the static image, “house of God,” and it becomes a dynamic microcosm of the kingdom of God. And because God’s kingdom is a place of reconciliation and transformation, in it there’s no distinction between sinner and saint, no division between any usand them. We’re all human beings who inhabit the same earth and who belong to and stand equally before one God.

         Nice try, Preacher. You want some ice cream to go with that pie-in-the-sky?

         I hear you. But please bear with me.

When we enter worship, or prayer, or engage in Christian service, we can’t help dragging our worldly baggage along with us. Beginning worship with confession and entering the world in humility are ways we acknowledge the fact that we filter virtually every experience through cultural preconceptions and selfish fears.

On the positive side, sometimes we come before God listening or watching for something that will relieve some burden, or make sense of some experience of suffering, or give voice to some great joy. And when we stand quietly, perhaps we will hear God’s voice whispering, soft as dewfall, “Be still, and know that I am God.” (Ps. 46:10)

Other times, those preconceptions and fears close our minds, and we listen only for what we want to hear. When that’s the case, we often wade into the comfortable shallows. And God knows we often need that comfort. When “the waters roar and foam, [and] the mountains tremble with [the world’s] tumult,” (Ps. 46:3) we clamber for anything that feels familiar and firm. Trouble arises when, whether in pulpit or pew, we come to worship to escape the world. Trying to escape the world is trying to escape God.

         So, imagine this scenario: An ancient Hebrew poet walks out of his tent or out of a synagogue. Maybe he’s grieving and looking for some reminder of Yahweh’s presence and faithfulness. Or maybe as a poet he knows that his gift calls him to the task of standing in awe of the creation on behalf of his community. Or maybe he has just enjoyed a good meal, maybe even Passover, so the Shema is fresh in his mind:

“Hear, O Israel: The Lord is our God, the Lord alone. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might.” (Deut. 6:4-5)

In every age, good poetry uses specific detail. And while those details invite us into the intricacies of the particular, they also open doors to archetypal metaphors so that the words create a response of gratitude and praise which is accessible to people across cultures and centuries. Listen for the Word of God through the Hebrew poet:

¹Bless the Lord, O my soul.

O Lord my God, you are very great.

You are clothed with honor and majesty,

²wrapped in light as with a garment.

You stretch out the heavens like a tent,

³you set the beams of your chambers on the waters,

you make the clouds your chariot,

you ride on the wings of the wind,

⁴you make the winds your messengers,

fire and flame your ministers.

⁵You set the earth on its foundations,

so that it shall never be shaken.

⁶You cover it with the deep as with a garment;

the waters stood above the mountains.

⁷At your rebuke they flee;

at the sound of your thunder they take to flight.

⁸They rose up to the mountains

 ran down to the valleys

to the place that you appointed for them.

⁹You set a boundary that they may not pass,

so that they might not again cover the earth.

¹⁰You make springs gush forth in the valleys;

they flow between the hills,

¹¹giving drink to every wild animal;

the wild asses quench their thirst.

¹²By the streams the birds of the air have their habitation;

they sing among the branches.

¹³From your lofty abode you water the mountains;

the earth is satisfied with the fruit of your work.

¹⁴You cause the grass to grow for the cattle,

and plants for people to use,

to bring forth food from the earth,

¹⁵and wine to gladden the human heart,

oil to make the face shine,

and bread to strengthen the human heart.

¹⁶The trees of the Lord are watered abundantly,

the cedars of Lebanon that he planted.

²⁴O Lord, how manifold are your works!

In wisdom you have made them all;

the earth is full of your creatures.

                                                      (Psalm 104:1-16, 24- NRSV)

         The poet’s words, so ancient and so relevant, reveal the creation as the realm of God’s most intimate and yet most universal self-expression. He reminds us that no matter where we are, we are in the presence of God. And no matter who we are, as human beings we belong to God. There’s no corner of our lives so removed that God is not with us. That says to me that the creation itself is the model for all human-made sanctuaries. So, we gather here as if dangling our toes off the rim of the Grand Canyon, as if standing waist-deep in the ocean’s surf, as if paddling a canoe through the sweltering but vibrant stillness of a cypress swamp, as if standing atop the Roan balds at midnight hovering between the lights above and the lights below. In such places we become acutely aware of the heavens stretched out above us “like a tent.” We can see the “beams of [God’s] chambers [fixed] on the waters” We begin to understand how God rides “on the wings of the wind,” and ministers to us in “fire and flame.”

We are creatures made in the image of the wildly beautiful and boundless Creator. We claim that our “chief end” is to glorify and enjoy this eternal and untamed reality. So, how is it that humankind so often domesticates and confines God’s spiritual community into a cozy, climate-controlled, committee-driven terrarium?

          The Church as an ecclesiastical terrarium is not the same thing as the Church as a microcosm of God’s kingdom. Terrariums do contain a certain amount of organic matter, and they can be beautiful in their way. But terrariums are closed systems. And they’re often sealed. And while they may feel comfortable, when sealed and guarded, they don’t provide suitable environments for experiencing the living God and for growing in grace and truth.

By contrast, a microcosm is a small but lively re-presentation of a larger whole. To the extent possible, it is made in the image of the greater reality. And similar rules and freedoms apply to a microcosm as to that greater reality. In a microcosm, things come and go, laugh and cry, breathe and die.

         God is theultimate reality. And while God, as Creator, is beyond the confines of the universe itself, Psalm 104 declares that the entire creation, even in its brokenness, holds within itself a microcosm of God and of God’s kingdom. There’s enough of God in the particulars in ourselves and in the creation around us to make us aware that, as St. Augustine said, “our hearts are restless until they find their rest in thee.”

Until we are free enough to be bound to the fullness of our capacity for receiving and sharing God – who is Love – we will not know the fullness of our humanity. For in our fullness, humankind – and not so much individual human beings, but humankind– created in God’s image, is a microcosm of the Creator. That’s why recognizing the holiness of the natural world the way the psalmist does, and treating it accordingly, is crucial for our spiritual and physical well-being.

Another psalmist (Perhaps the same one!) sings these words: “The earth is the Lord’s and all that is in it, the world, and those who live in it.” (Ps. 24:1) This planet and all that depend on it is a microcosm of the gift of the universe. Its complexities and mysteries reveal the mind-bending power of God at work in the creation. So, human beings will never be without questions, doubts, and crises.

The unspeakable beauty of the creation also reminds us of the splendor, the wholeness, and the love from which we come and to which God returns us. When we claim to be made in the image of the Creator, we commit ourselves to living as a humble, grateful, generous, mindful community of stewards.

Having created us, God is always redeeming and recreating us. So, as a congregation, we’re more than a terrarium. We’re a kingdom outpost – a holy microcosm whose fellowship, worship, and service proclaim God and God alone.

Bless the Lord, O my soul.

O Lord my God, you are very great!

The Grace of Impossibility (Sermon)

“The Grace of Impossibility”

Mark 10:17-31

Allen Huff

Jonesborough Presbyterian Church

10/14/18

¹⁷As [Jesus] was setting out on a journey, a man ran up and knelt before him, and asked him, “Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?

¹⁸Jesus said to him, “Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone. ¹⁹You know the commandments: ‘You shall not murder; You shall not commit adultery; You shall not steal; You shall not bear false witness; You shall not defraud; Honor your father and mother.’”

²⁰He said to him, “Teacher, I have kept all these since my youth.”

²¹Jesus, looking at him, loved him and said, “You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.”

²²When he heard this, he was shocked and went away grieving, for he had many possessions.

²³Then Jesus looked around and said to his disciples, “How hard it will be for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God!”

²⁴And the disciples were perplexed at these words. But Jesus said to them again, “Children, how hard it is to enter the kingdom of God! ²⁵It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.”

²⁶They were greatly astounded and said to one another, “Then who can be saved?”

²⁷Jesus looked at them and said, “For mortals it is impossible, but not for God; for God all things are possible.”

²⁸Peter began to say to him, “Look, we have left everything and followed you.” ²⁹Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, there is no one who has left house or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields, for my sake and for the sake of the good news, ³⁰who will not receive a hundredfold now in this age—houses, brothers and sisters, mothers and children, and fields with persecutions—and in the age to come eternal life. ³¹But many who are first will be last, and the last will be first.”(NRSV)

         Mark writes the earliest and the shortest gospel. And he tells the story of Jesus with urgent yet thoughtful purpose. Pay close attention to the context of a story in Mark, and you’ll likely see more than meets the eye.

         For instance, when a man asks Jesus what he “must…do to inherit eternal life” – as if grace can be earned – his question immediately follows Jesus saying that to enter the kingdom of God, receive it as a child would. The man either didn’t hear that teaching, or he’s so possessed by his possessions that he’s blind and deaf to grace. Mark creates revealing tension that way.

Responding to the man, Jesus says, Only God is good, but I bet you know that. And I bet you know the commandments, too, don’t you? Don’t kill, cheat, steal, and lie. Respect your parents.

“Teacher, I have kept all these since my youth,” the man says proudly.

Jesus looks at the man and with that deep, selfless ache called agape love, says, Good. Now, you’re missing one thing; “Go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.”

And just like that, Jesus loses another disciple, because the wealthy man just doesn’t get it. Indeed, with the unforgettable image of a camel and the eye of a needle, Jesus implies that preciselybecauseof all their determination and proud self-sufficiency, wealthy people can’tget it.

Christians who live and worship in wealthy and powerful nations crave stories like the one about a single tiny gate in the wall around Jerusalem, a gate called “the eye of the needle” through which a camel could actually pass if unloaded and forced through on its knees. Such tidbits suggest that maybe Jesus wasn’t entirely right. Maybe violent domination and hyper-consumption are not entirelyantithetical to the ways of the kingdom. But there’s no evidence of such a gate, so it’s a false hope.¹

Some have also tried to find comfort in the fact that the Greek word for camel and the Greek word for the thick rope used to tether a ship to its mooring are only one vowel apart.²Such a rope may be smaller than a camel, but threading it through a needle’s eye is no less impossible.

After his eye-of-the-needle comment, Jesus even loses his most faithful disciples – for the moment, anyway. ‘We’re all doomed! they cry.

Well, if you try to do it by yourself, yeah. It’s impossible, says Jesus, “but…for God all things are possible.”

Peter, ever the clueless hero, whines that the disciples have “left everything.” We’re good men, he says. We go to synagogue. We listen to you and other rabbis. We do what you tell us the scriptures tell us to do. We may not deserve to get into the kingdom, but for crying out loud, we ought to! We followed the rules!

The gospels reveal that disciples often mistake rule-following for Jesus-following. Rule-following religion breeds score-keeping, and, therefore, judgment of others. It doesn’t make people grateful, or generous, or humble. Being all about reward, rule-following breeds idolatry. It renders us proud, satisfied, and entitled.

When all we hear Jesus say is Believe in me so that I will forgive your sins and give you eternal life,discipleship can become pretty much whatever we want it to be. So long as we believe, and mostly behave, we don’t have to do anything really difficult.

To enter the kingdom,says Jesus,to understand true abundance and blessedness, follow me. Let go of all your stuff, and learn to practice the impossible.

I’m going to share some personal observations. Now, this isn’t sociological research. These are simply the reflections of a 55-year-old who has been listening, watching, reading, and, for the last 22 years, trying to preach Jesus. In the limited cross-section of culture familiar to me, it seems that some of us emphasize adhering to long-standing traditions of thinking and acting. We seek to control property and people for personal gain that we then claim as divine blessing. Others of us seek blessedness in challenging conventional ways of thinking and acting. We declare solidarity with poor, oppressed, and marginalized people, and all the while remain comfortably sheltered in privilege and security. As the culture around us gets increasingly polarized, as we all grasp desperately for control, our rhetoric toward each other gets more accusatory, demeaning, and stuck in absurd superlatives. We’rethe best and the first. You’rethe worst and the last.

Our polarization isn’t linear, though. Our respective furies seem to arc in such a way that we’re actually coming closer together. And rather than finding a place of creative ferment, a place in which we acknowledge both our very real differences andthe ways in which we necessarily balance and complement each other, this new place – which is anything but new in grand scheme of human history – becomes a place in which we simply mirror each other’s brokenness, a place marred by fear, competition, and vengeance. And in that place, our hostility toward each other is breeding a fresh and violent chaos.

Again, that’s just my subjective musing. So, take it or leave it.

Then again, Jesus experienced a time and place in which his disciples and his detractors came together to create fresh and violent chaos. And in the verses immediately following today’s text, Jesus predicts, for the third and final time, that day of darkness. That day when everyone tries in their own broken and selfish way to control the outcome of an out-of-control moment. And in doing so, they find themselves, as differently motivated as they may be, equal partners in the execution of God’s Christ. And out of that all-too-possible violence God creates something impossibly beautiful and hopeful.

Impossibility is an idea that powerful and entitled peoples tend to embrace. And when we limit ourselves to the possible, we regard worldly wealth and violent power as sovereign. So, whoever has the most stuff and can inflict the most damage wins. The world calls that “reality.”

Then Jesus says, Lay all your stuff down. Give it all away. As long as you put your trust in human means and human systems, you will never experience or bear witness to the personally, communally, and globally transforming gift of grace. No,says Jesus, whoever loses wins. Whoever is last is first. And the world calls that “fantasy.”

The Christian philosopher, Jacques Ellul, wrote the following paragraph specifically about money, but if you hold onto anything tighter than you hold onto Jesus, as I read these words, wherever Ellul says “money,” insert whatever idol you may be holding onto: “How [do we] overcome the spiritual ‘power’ of money? Not by accumulating more money, not by using money for good purposes, not by being just and fair in our dealings. The…only way to overcome the spiritual ‘power’ of money is to give our money away, thus desacralizing it and freeing ourselves from its control…To give away money is to win a victory over the spiritual power that oppresses us.”³

Jesus says it this way, more or less: When you demonstrate discipleship in concrete deed rather than superficial piety, when you find yourself fulfilled at the back of the line rather than the front, thenwill you be following me rather than rules. Thenwill you live a life defined by love rather than fear. Thenwill you inhabit a creation in which the impossible – in which resurrection – is the gracious new reality. And thenwill you inhabit the kingdom of God.

All of this is absurd and impossible, until we surrender all we have and all we are to the grace of God.

¹https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eye_of_a_needle

²C. Clifton Black, in his article “Exegetical Perspective” in Feasting on the Word: Year B, Vol. 4. David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, Eds. Westminster John Knox Press, Louisville, KY, 2009. Pg. 169.

³Charles L. Campbell, in his article “Homiletical Perspective” in Feasting on the Word: Year B, Vol. 4. David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, Eds. Westminster John Knox Press, Louisville, KY, 2009. Pg. 169.