Lenten Theme: Jesus Christ Superstar

At FLUMC over the last several years, it's become our own 'tradition' to use a musical as a focus or backdrop of sorts during the season of Lent, as a different way of looking at the journey with Jesus to the cross. This year, we used my very favorite musical, Jesus Christ Superstar. One of my colleagues asked for my outline for the season, so I thought I would also post it here, in case any of you are interested.

Theme: "Who Do You Say that I Am?" - using music from Jesus Christ Superstar

Ash Wednesday
Overview of Theme: Who do we say Jesus is? Who did the figures in the Passion story say Jesus was? How did what they said affect their lives? How does who we say Jesus is change us?
Scripture: Mark 8:27-37
Song: We used "Everything's Alright," since it uses 3 characters, to give an overview. "Superstar" might also be an appropriate choice, since it lays out the main theme in the lyrics.
Character Focus: no specific character - all/overview

First Sunday in Lent
Theme: Betrayal - how do we betray Jesus?, being defined by one moment in our life, redemption
Scripture: Matthew 26:20-25, Matthew 27:3-10
Song: "Heaven on Their Minds," or "Superstar"
Character Focus: Judas

Second Sunday in Lent
Theme: Jesus as King, Jesus as one who will come and fix all of our problems. What does "savior" mean? What is the Kingdom of God?
Scripture: John 6:5-15 (A stretch - not really about Simon, but about wanting to make Jesus King by Force)
Song: Simon Zealotes
Character Focus: Simon Zealot

Third Sunday in Lent
Theme: When do we know who Jesus is, but refuse to let what we know change us, because who we think we are is more important - our own agenda is more important than God and God's agenda.
Scripture: Luke 23:1-5, Luke 23:13-25
Song: Pilate's Dream
Character Focus: Pontius Pilate

Fourth Sunday in Lent
Theme: Debunking some mythology and misconceptions about Mary Magdalene - Mary of Bethany, Mary Magdalene, and the 'sinful' woman, focusing on, in opposition to Pilate, a life that is changed because of who Jesus is: a savior.
Scripture: Luke 10:38-42, Luke 7:36-8:3, Matthew 27:55-56
Song: I Don't Know How to Love Him
Character Focus: Mary Magdalene, (and the other Mary figures)

Fifth Sunday in Lent
Theme: The "two steps forward, one step back" nature of faith, faithfulness over the long course, despite glaring examples of getting it wrong. The not-a-straight-line nature of discipleship
Scripture: Mark 8:27-37, Matthew 14:23-33, Matthew 26:31-35, Matthew 26:69-75
Song: Could We Start Again, Please?
Character Focus: Peter

Palm/Passion Sunday
Theme: The Palm and Passion Stories - no 'sermon'
Scripture: Any combination of Palm/Passion Texts
Song: Hosanna (could combine with, "This Jesus Must Die,"
Character Focus: none in particular, although could focus in on the crowds, or the high priests

Maundy Thursday
Theme: Remembering - how we remember who Jesus is, how he wants us to remember
Scripture: Any focusing on Last Supper
Song: The Last Supper and Gethsemane
Character Focus: Jesus

Good Friday
Theme: Jesus' crucifixion
Scripture: I used a Tenebrae service to replay all the scriptures we had used throughout Lent, and closed with Mark's description of the crucifixion
Song: Played The Crucifixion and John 19:41 for silent reflection
Character Focus: All

Easter Sunday
Theme: Time to answer for ourselves - who do we say that Jesus is? Why does Easter matter? Where do we go from here?
Scripture: John 20:1-18 and Mark 16:1-8, emphasis on Mark
Song: None, or Superstar
Character Focus: Us!

Other options:
"Herod's Song" and King Herod Focus
"This Jesus Must Die" and "Then We Are Decided," Annas and Caiaphas

Sermon for Easter Sunday, Year B

(Sermon 4/12/09, Mark 16:1-8, John 20:1-18)

Who Do You Say that I Am?

This year, as I’ve been thinking about Easter, I’ve been thinking a lot about my recent Children’s Sermons during Lent, and the kids’ reactions as I’ve mentioned to them that we’re preparing for Easter, when we celebrate Jesus’ resurrection. Generally, the kids have reacted something like this: Ew, gross! What, does he get buried and dug up again? Their responses make me laugh, of course, and occasionally throw me for a loop and leave me a bit speechless, but I’ve been thinking about their responses and reactions. As adults, who’ve heard the resurrection story many, many times, maybe we’ve forgotten exactly the strangeness of what it is we’re celebrating today. Jesus rising from the dead? Maybe the kids’ reactions are actually the most appropriate – because at least they have some sense of confusion, or misunderstanding, or surprise about it all. Celebrating Easter year after year, as adults, we can become pretty blasé about the whole thing. Oh yeah – Easter – Jesus rose from the dead, that’s all. It’s maybe a little hard for us to capture the wonder and the excitement or even the confusion of Easter, isn’t it?

So maybe the kids are really on the right track, leading the way, as they so often do. How do we make sense of Easter today? If we’re talking about someone being resurrected – raised from the dead – how do we take it so lightly? Typically, at Easter, we read the resurrection story from the gospel of John – it’s the most well known, the most liked – the intimate scene of Mary Magdalene discovering Jesus himself at the tomb, finally recognizing him and calling him Teacher. In the three year cycle of scripture texts, you might also hear the resurrection story from Matthew and Luke. But it’s hard to ever focus on the resurrection story from the gospel of Mark. That’s because, like the rest of Mark’s gospel, his resurrection story is pretty short on details. It is only 8 verses long, and it was so upsetting to the early church that by the fourth century, manuscripts existed giving Mark longer endings. In most Bibles today, you’ll see Mark ending at chapter 16 verse 8, with footnotes or other section headings noting a verse 9 listed as the “shorter ending of Mark” and then verse 9-20, called the “longer ending of Mark.” Most scholars agree, however, that verses 9-20, in any version, were added on later to compensate for Mark’s strangely brief Easter story, with some scholars speculating that perhaps Mark died before he could finish the gospel, or perhaps the last page of Mark’s work was lost somehow.

Why all this speculation and rewriting? Well, if we take just verses 1-8 in Mark, we never hear about anyone actually seeing the risen Jesus. The young man at the tomb that the women see just tells the women that Jesus has risen and to tell the disciples about it. But the women respond differently than the messenger says. We read, “So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.^*” Leaving it where Mark leaves things, no one proclaims the Easter message that Jesus has risen, at least not right away.

I think the early church added to Mark’s ending because they knew that wasn’t all there was to the story. Obviously, if the women had never told anyone what happened, the news about Jesus wouldn’t have spread. No one would have thought he had risen. So eventually, they must have gotten over their fear and shared the news, and that’s the story folks in the early church wanted to make sure was in Mark’s gospel. But however it came about, I like Mark’s short story, just eight verses long, because in Mark’s original ending, the women had probably the most proper reaction of all to the Easter story – they ran away scared! They were baffled by the news, they had no idea what to do with finding the empty tomb and the man’s strange words, and they were afraid to say anything about their terrifying experience. To me, at least in terms of initial reactions to what was happening, Mark’s gospel makes the most sense of all. Sure, the story got shared eventually. But how else would you react if you had the kind of experience these women had?

So we’re back to our question – how do we make sense of Easter today? I think it can only have meaning for us if we try to reclaim a little bit of the wonder of those women, or try to see it from the perspective of children hearing this strange story for the first time – how can Jesus be raised? It is hard to make sense of, and I can’t tell you that I have all the answers to explain how something like eternal life and resurrection could possibly work. For all of our fascination with heaven and afterlife, the Bible is actually pretty vague on details for things like that. It’s up to us, really. How do you make sense of it all? How do I? What do we do with Easter?

As I’ve mentioned before, my favorite scripture passage is John 10:10 – “The thief comes to steal and kill and destroy, but I have come that you might have life, and have it abundantly.” Sometimes we think about being disciples and adhering to our religious beliefs as something that means that we have to give up things, follow “thou shall nots,” and generally miss out on enjoying things that others seem to have no problem with. Why I love John 10:10 is because it reminds me that Jesus wants the exact opposite for us – for us to have full life, abundant life, overflowing life. Are you living abundantly? Is your life full? Full of the deep joy that following Jesus can bring?

When I think about making sense of Easter, I think about this promise of abundant life. I ran across an article this week on death and dying and the work of Hospice volunteers. And one of the volunteers said, “You’re going to die the way you live.” (1) She was speaking about being able to have a meaningful experience even when you were dealing with a terminal illness. But that statement really struck me, in the midst of Holy Week, as I was preparing to write this sermon. Jesus died like he lived – and how he lived was with such love, such fullness, such giving, such openness to God, that death couldn’t change that. He lived too fully, too much, to die, to let death be the final word. In funeral liturgies, especially in the prayers read at graveside services, you often hear the phrase, “‘Death has been swallowed up in victory.’ ⁵⁵‘Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?’” They are words that Paul shares in his first letter to the Corinthians, when he’s trying to explain to them the meaning of resurrection. Paul’s trying to say that death doesn’t win – death never wins – if you’ve really lived, if your abundant life is more full than death could ever hold. What does Easter mean? What is resurrection? What is eternal life? What is Jesus promising? I believe this – we die like we’ve lived. Jesus died like he lived – in such a way that death couldn’t contain him – death could not stop Jesus’ life.

So, it's Easter morning again. What will happen here today? How do you answer that question? That’s what we’ve building up to all through Lent, as we’ve looked at who Peter and Judas and Simon and Pilate and Mary say Jesus is – none of it matters until we answer the question for ourselves. Who is Jesus to you? What does Easter mean to you? The truth is, our actions, our behaviors, the way we act from Easter to Easter often indicates that we don't expect anything much to happen here today at all, because, the day after, we tend to live our lives in the exact same way we always have. We don’t have the same reaction as our children do to the idea of resurrection, and we don’t run scared from the tomb like the women on that first gut response to Easter. It seems, then, that we don't expect very much from Easter. Is it just one more Sunday? Is Easter simply a day to celebrate with friends and family, to share in a good meal, to finally indulge in whatever we have given up for Lent? Is Easter is a day when the sanctuary looks extra nice, and we dress up in new clothes, and new stoles? Is that all we expect? All we want? Why doesn’t Easter startle us as the shocking, almost unbelievable, unbearably wonderful event that it is? If you knew that death didn’t have the final word after all, how would that make you react?

The fact is, it would be awfully inconvenient for something more powerful to happen to us on the Day of Resurrection. If death can’t conquer abundant life, if Jesus is alive, we might have to take to heart all of those things that Jesus taught during his lifetime. We might have to admit that his way was better than our way, that his idea of kingdom is better than ours, that his idea of living and loving was right after all. We'd have to change our lives, right now, starting today.

But the empty tomb and the risen Christ are only part of Easter. Like that old quip, "if a tree falls in the woods and no one hears it, does it make a sound when it falls?" - if Christ is crucified and resurrected, and no one tells it, and no one changes because of it, and no one is transformed by it - does it matter? Life where death was expected - what else can God do to show us love? A beginning, where an end seemed certain - what else can God do to challenge us into action? Eternal joy where grief seemed to abound - what else can God do to show us grace?

I think that’s why I like the resurrection story in the gospel of Mark so much, and couldn’t let it go this year. It is like an unfinished story, a choose-your-own-adventure story, one that we are called to complete. We get just a starting point – just a glimpse of the empty tomb. What happens after that – what we make of it, what we believe about it, and what we do because of what we believe – well, that’s up to us. That’s the real Easter story of new life – our own new life, if we choose it, because of the gift of grace, love, and abundant life that Jesus offers. Who do you say that Jesus is? What does Easter mean to you? And what will that mean for you not just on this Sunday, but on Monday and Tuesday and all the days after?

Amen.

(1) http://www.cnn.com/2009/LIVING/wayoflife/04/07/lw.how.good.death/index.html?iref=newssearch

Sermon for Maundy Thursday, Year B

(Sermon 4/9/09, 1 Corinthians 11:23-26, John 13:1-17, 31b-35)

Remember

This past Sunday evening, members of the youth groups from our church and from our neighbors at Grace Wyckoff United Methodist gathered together here to learn about the symbolism of the Passover meal. Rose and Justin Peligri shared with us about the meaning behind the different foods eaten at a Seder supper, and we heard about the story of God leading the people out of slavery in Egypt through God’s servant, Moses. We talked about how the Israelites celebrated Passover as a way to remember what had happened to them, how God had led them out of captivity. The Passover celebration is primarily about remembering, retelling the story, so that the people don’t forget their history with God.

We might wonder – how could they ever forget? How could they forget their life of slavery? How could they forget the horrible conditions they were living in? But if you remember what happened after the Israelites left Egypt, it might make a little more sense. They left Egypt only to wander in the desert for 40 years, following Moses to the Promised Land, but going in such a round-about way that they must have had to wonder if Moses – and God – knew what they were doing, and if this Promised Land really existed. After all, during forty years, many of those who had been slaves in Egypt would have died. And many of those who grew into adults would have been just children in Egypt. In fact, many would have been born on the journey, and never have lived in Egypt themselves. How easy would it be to forget, then, if many of the Israelites had never even experienced, or at least could not remember on their own, the time in Egypt? Add onto that the sometimes difficult situations the Israelites encountered in the wilderness – depending on God for manna, searching for water, and just the difficulty of such a journey – when you put all these things together, perhaps we can understand how the people might forget, or start to downplay or underestimate, how things had been in Egypt, and what God had done for them.

Unfortunately, it seems like the people forgetting about God is a huge theme in the scriptures. In the Old Testament, over and over, though in less familiar stories than Moses and the Israelites, we see people forgetting the covenants made with God, forgetting their histories, forgetting what God has done for them, and turning to old ways, other gods, their own way of living. And then, God finds a new way to speak to the people, and they remember, or sometimes have to even re-learn their own history, and start again. Forgetting and remembering. It’s a significant theme in the Hebrew Scriptures.

We forget, too, don’t we? Forget our own stories, our own histories. My paternal grandmother had a pet peeve with me when I was little. I was in the habit of saying, “I forgot” as an explanation for anything that I was supposed to do but didn’t get around to. She always told me that’s what it would say on my tombstone, “I forgot.” I think it frustrated her in part, of course, because she suspected I hadn’t actually forgotten, but also because forgetting just isn’t a good excuse. Forgetting isn’t responsible. Of course, sometimes forgetfulness becomes something out of our human control, a result of illness or injury. But the very reason we care about forgetfulness is because we know how critical memory is to our lives. It’s a personal issue and a societal issue too. We often fear that history will repeat itself – particularly that the mistakes of history will repeat. We fear that given enough time, enough distance, we will forget even the most significant events – forget what brought us to those situations, why we shouldn’t have let those things happen, how we could prevent them happening again. And so we create ways to remember – family reunions remind us of our roots, class reunions help us remember our school days, holidays like President’s Day, and Martin Luther King Day, and so on, are there not just to help us celebrate and have a day off, but to help us remember something. We celebrate anniversaries and birthdays to remember how special people and relationships are. And in the church, our rites and rituals help us remember.

Tonight, Jesus calls us to remember. He’s sharing a Passover meal with his disciples, and so they are already in the mood to remember, to think about symbolism and meaning. And then Jesus takes bread and takes wine and says to them, “When you eat this, remember me – my body for you. When you drink this, remember me, a new covenant made with you. Do this often, remember me every time you eat and drink.” We usually remember this meal and Jesus’ words when we celebrate communion in worship – but Jesus says something with a broader meaning – he wants us to remember him, remember the new covenant, remember his gift of love to us every time we eat and drink. And that’s not all. Throughout his ministry, Jesus tried to get his disciples, the crowds – and us – to remember by pointing out all of these common day connections when he was explaining God, God’s kingdom, and how we should live: Bread. Wine. Water. Seeds, Soil. Birds. Trees. Vines. Animals. Coins. Whatever was part of people’s everyday lives, Jesus used to help them remember. Because he wanted them – wants us – to remember who he is everywhere and all the time.

Jesus calls us to remember him in everything we see and do, to remember God, to remember who Jesus is and who we are in everything, every moment, every day. This is actually a pattern I’ve developed in my children’s sermons, though it happened by accident. I have to admit, I used to be afraid of children’s sermons. They stressed me out – wondering if I could handle the unexpected directions the kids’ responses sometimes take you! So I would look for a way to ‘tie up’ and conclude my message, and got into the habit of saying to the kids: “So when you see X, (referring to whatever item I’d brought to show them), remember X (referring to whatever lesson I wanted them to learn.) It started out by accident, my habit of ending my messages that way, but when I stopped to think about it, it made sense to me. That’s exactly what I want our children to do – to remember God, to remember their church, to think about their faith in all of these different things they see in their lives – to remember God loves them when they see Chutes and Ladders, or when they see Before and After pictures, or when they buy something new to replace something old and worn out – I want them to remember all the time.

That’s what God wants for us, too – to remember all the time. And what are we called to remember? Who Jesus is, who God is. Who do you say that I am? That’s been our theme all this Lent. We know, don’t we? We have our answers. We know, at least I hope we know, or are beginning to know, about God’s unconditional love, about Jesus’ call to discipleship. We know, but we forget. We come to worship to remember, and that’s good! But we’re called to remember everywhere, at all times. Jesus wants us to remember so that we never forget, so that who he is touches us in everything that we do. And so he calls us to remember.

Holy Week is about reenacting, replaying the Passion, the journey, so that we remember, can practically remember being there ourselves, experiencing it all for ourselves. And so we see the story – and remember. Hear the scriptures – and remember. Sings the songs – and remember. Take the bread and cup – and remember. Come to the table, and remember who God is, and who you are because of it. Amen.

Reflections on Palm/Passion Sunday

I didn't preach on Palm/Passion Sunday this year, so I thought instead of posting my sermon, I would highlight some of the resources I used in worship.

Lately, I've been loving the liturgies written by Rev. Thom M. Shuman, here at Lectionary Liturgies. We used his Great Thanksgiving this Sunday for communion. I can write liturgies myself, but it is not one of my particular strengths. However, cultivating a good list of liturgists who really write in a way that moves me is one of my strengths.

I also used this responsive litany, written by Deb at Palabras de Deb. I've actually had that litany bookmarked since last year when she posted it, and have been waiting to have the chance to use it this year! I also used the monlogues she mentions, found here and here. They are written from the point of view of a person in the crowd on Palm Sunday, and then later in Holy Week. We have a wonderful actor/singer, Richard Koons, in our congregation who performed them for us. I used these, along with a reading of the passion story, to constitute the message, rather than a regular sermon, and the service was quite full.

If you are my "facebook friend," you also know I had a small panic thinking we had forgotten to order Palms. (Turns out, I just didn't know where they were.) Everyone chimed in with great ideas to solve the problem - including using 'regular' branches, or making construction paper palms, or blaming the economy (hee hee!), but luckily, it didn't come to that!

I hope, for those of you spending the week planning and prepping for many worship services, that you find time this week to experience the events for yourself, and not be undone by panic and stress!

Review: Eat, Pray, Love, by Elizabeth Gilbert

Ever since I saw a short review of Elizabeth Gilbert's Eat, Pray, Love on Sarah Walker Cleaveland's blog, I have wanted to read it. I finally got around to it recently, and I'm so glad I finally did - an excellent, moving, thought-provoking book.

The book follows Gilbert on a year-long personal quest for - God, love, understanding, clarity, hope, etc. - through stops in Italy, India, and Indonesia. Her style is narrative story-telling, and the book reads like a novel. I found Gilbert's longing, questing to experience God and to have a sense of self-worth compelling. She doesn't write from a church-goer perspective, and I imagine her spiritual journey is similar to others who find themselves seeking God outside the boundaries of organized religion today (although I wish everyone took their spiritual journeys, in or out of the Church, as seriously as Gilbert takes hers).

Some excerpts:
"The Yogic path is about disentangling the built-in glitches of the human condition, which I'm going to over-simply define here as the heartbreaking inability to sustain contentment . . . The Yogis, however, say that human discontentment is a simple case of mistaken identity. We're miserable because we think that we are mere individuals, alone with our fears and flaws and resentments and mortality . . . We have failed to recognize our deeper divine character . . . expressed in this exasperated line from the Greek stoic philosopher Epictetus: 'You bear God within you, poor wretch, and know it not.'" (122)

"The other problem with all this swinging through the vines of though it that you are never where you are. You are always digging in the past or poking at the future, but rarely do you rest in this moment . . . If you're looking for union with the divine, this kind of backward/forward whirling is a problem. There's a reason they call God a presence - because God is right here, right now. In the present is the only place to find [God] , and now is the only time." (132)

"This is what rituals are for. We do spiritual ceremonies as human beings in order to create a safe resting place for our most complicated feelings of joy or trauma, so that we don't have to haul those feelings around with us forever, weighing us down . . . If you bring the right earnestness to your homemade ceremony, God will provide the grace. And that is why we need God." (187)

Quoting her guru: "God dwells within you, as you." (191)

"Happiness is the consequence of personal effort. You fight for it, strive for it, insist upon it, and sometimes even travel around the world looking for it. You have to participate relentlessly in the manifestations of your own blessings." (260)

"[Zen Buddhists] say that an oak tree is brought into creation by two forces at the same time. Obviously, there is the acorn from which it all begins . . . But only a few can recognize that there is another force operating here as well - the future tree itself, which wants so badly to exist that it pulls the acorn into being, drawing the seedling forth with longing out of the void . . . In this respect . . . it is the oak tree that creates the very acorn from which it is born." (329)

It's really a beautiful book, and I definitely plan on reading some of Gilbert's other work.

Sermon for Fifth Sunday in Lent (non-lectionary)

(Sermon 3/29/09, Matthew 14:23-33, Mark 8:27-37, Matthew 26:31-35, 57, 69-75)

Peter, The Rock

Today, we finally look at a disciple about whom something is actually written, about whom we actually have significant information to go on in our study! Today, we’re looking at Simon Peter. Simon Peter became one of the most prominent leaders in the early church, along with Paul and James, the brother of Jesus. He is considered the first bishop of Rome, the first Pope of the church. And, thankfully, he appears frequently in the gospels, and in the Acts of the Apostles, more frequently than any other of the twelve. Of course, this makes sense. The gospels in our Bibles were not recorded until some 30 and more years after Jesus walked on earth. By then, Peter was already considered a great leader of the church who had been martyred for the cause, and so when retelling the story of Jesus, authors naturally highlighted stories of the most famous of the twelve. The benefit for us is that in Peter, we have the most holistic, multi-layered look at him that we have of any of the followers of Jesus.

Today we’re looking at three passages in which Peter plays a central role. First, we hear in the gospel of Matthew about the famous incident of Peter stepping out of the boat to follow Jesus and walk on the water. Jesus and the disciples have just been with the crowds, while Jesus fed the 5000+ people. The disciples get into the boat to cross the lake, and Jesus stays behind to pray. Eventually, the disciples see Jesus walking toward them on the water, but because of the situation, no doubt, they think Jesus must be a ghost. But Jesus calms their fears right away, saying, “it is I.” Peter then makes a bold gesture: “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” Jesus says, “come.” So Peter gets out of the boat and begins walking on the water to Jesus. But suddenly he’s overwhelmed by what he’s doping, and he begins to sink, calling, “Lord, save me.” Jesus catches him, and says, “You of little faith, why did you doubt?”

In Mark, we return to a passage we’ve been looking at in parts throughout Lent, a theme we’ve been focusing on. Jesus asks the disciples what people have been saying about him, who they’ve been saying he is. The disciples tell him that some think John the Baptist, others Elijah, others, another of the prophets. And Jesus asks, “But who do you say that I am?” Peter replies, “you are the Messiah.” But then Jesus tells them about the suffering he will undergo and Peter rebukes Jesus for saying such things. Jesus responds with his own rebuke, saying, “Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.” It is then that Jesus tells the crowd and his disciples that if any want to become his follower, they must deny themselves, take up the cross, and follow him.

Then finally, we come to a most-known scene with Peter, back in the gospel of Matthew. It’s a tense evening, the time following Jesus’ last meal with his disciples, after Jesus has announced that someone will betray him, after they’ve shared bread and wine together with new meaning, and after they’ve sung a hymn together. Jesus says that his flock will be scattered and that everyone will desert him. But Peter responds, “Though all become deserters because of you, I will never desert you.” Jesus tells Peter that actually on this very night he will deny Jesus three times before the cock crows. But Peter insists, “even though I must die with you, I will not deny you.” But then, just verses later, Peter indeed denies ever even knowing Jesus, much less being his follower. And as Peter remembers his conversation with Jesus, he weeps bitterly in shame.

Peter seems to be such a bumbling disciple sometimes. In these three lessons, and in other appearances in the gospels, Peter always seems to be a curious blend of making great leaps of faith and commitment to following Jesus, accompanied by, sometimes in startlingly quick succession, failures, mistakes, or blunders. I can picture Peter sinking rapidly into the water after walking on it, or Peter identifying Jesus as the Christ and then having Jesus call him Satan just a few minutes later. Sometimes when I read the gospels and see Peter’s behavior, I want to shout through the pages and centuries at him to help him get a clue a little sooner in the story. Of course, we have the benefit of knowing who Jesus is and how the story unfolds, while Peter did not. But even while I find Peter’s actions sometimes laughable, I also find them comforting. Peter, one of the twelve, and in fact, the most famous of the twelve, hardly ever had a clue what Jesus was trying to tell him, and yet still managed to be a leader of the church. I think that’s good news for us! I think Peter can help us understand our own paths of discipleship.

I’ve always had a sort-of love hate relationship with running, although since I broke my ankle while running, I guess my relationship has perhaps been one of mutual dislike! Running and I apparently don’t get along anymore, so I’ve tried to substitute walking and hiking instead. At any rate, over the course of the last several years, I’ve tried to run or walk or hike or something, and I’ve had different locations for running and walking. At Drew, right across the street from my apartment, was a big three mile loop that I would usually run around in the mornings. Here in Franklin Lakes, I walk around the loop that connects the playing fields near the library and rec. center. But when I was living in Central New York, or when I’m home visiting, I usually go to a track at the high-school or the local School for the Deaf. There’s no special walking loop available. Walking or running on a track is a different experience than one single loop. There are no big hills there to drag me down, so I usually could motivate myself to at least get over to the track. But there's another dilemma on a track. Unlike the course at Drew or here in Franklin Lakes that was just one time around, to go three miles at a track, I have to go around the circle 12 times! Not only is it hard to keep track of the progress I'm making, since it seems that I'm getting nowhere, but it's also difficult because there's always the temptation to quit before I hit my goal: the exit from the track comes up each and every lap, offering me the chance to give up and walk home. At Drew, and here, if I want to stop part way around the loop I’m out of luck – I still have to at least walk the rest of the way home. On a track, I can give up part way as easy as can be.

By now, you might be wondering what any of this has to do with our gospel lessons, with Peter, with anything really, but I assure you there's a great connection coming up! I think we like to think of our lives and our faith journeys more like the great big loop I run at Drew or the loop here in Franklin Lakes – one big loop, certainly has hills to climb, but new ground is always being covered, there is clear progress toward the goal, and once you see the finish line, that's it, you're finished! There's no where to get on or off except the beginning and the end. But actually, I think our lives and our faith walks are much more like going around the track. We often have to cover the same ground more than once to really make any progress. And yes, like on a track, we are offered chance after chance to give up and get out. We have many chances to stumble, to get off course, to lose our way, every time we think we're making some progress. The journey can be quite frustrating, and it's easy to feel like we’re sinking like Peter sank.

But God calls us, "You of little faith, why did you doubt?" Instead of one long path, beginning to end, we have chances in life to try again, to go around one more time, to enjoy our gifts and graces in different contexts and settings. We have chance to measure our progress, even within the safety of the course, and we have the task of confronting our temptations too. Imagine if the disciples' time and journeys, Peter’s time with Jesus had only been on one long path, beginning to end. He would have been no opportunities to learn from his mistakes, no chances to try again to share the good news with communities, no second chances when he let Jesus down so completely.

One of my very favorite books is Lamb: the Gospel According to Biff, Christ’s Childhood Pal, by Christopher Moore. As you might guess from the title, the book is a comedic fictional look at Jesus’ ministry from a written-out disciple. But mixed in with the jokes are some deep theological reflections. In one scene, Maggie, aka Mary Magdalene, says to Jesus and Biff: "You two are the ninnies here. You both rail on [the disciples] about their intelligence, when that doesn't have anything to do with why they're here. Have either one of you heard them preach? I have. Peter can heal the sick now. I've seen it. I've seen James make the lame walk. Faith isn't an act of intelligence, it's an act of imagination. Every time you give them a new metaphor for the kingdom, they see the metaphor, a mustard seed, a field, a garden, a vineyard, it's like pointing something out to a cat - the cat looks at your finger, not at what you're pointing at. [But] they don't need to understand it, they only need to believe, and they do. They imagine the kingdom as they need it to be, they don't need to grasp it, it's there already, they can let it be. Imagination, not intellect." (394) Maggie – or Mary – is trying to explain that the disciples are followers of Jesus not because of their great understanding and wisdom, but because of their faithfulness. Peter’s blunders may make me smile, but his show of faith, especially when you look at the whole course of his life, is no laughing matter.

Today we are celebrating Layperson of the Year Sunday, and we are honoring Jack Willer, a very special person. As I was looking over Jack’s bio and thinking about Jack, I was reminded of Jack’s reaction the day I told him he was selected to be Layperson of the Year. He seemed totally astonished, and tried to convince me that he wasn’t a worthy candidate for the honor before it finally sunk in a little bit. I think Jack was convinced there were better candidates who’d done more than he had who should be getting honored. But here’s the thing: I see the Layperson of the Year award not as an award for a person’s greatness, but for their faithfulness. And I’m not saying Jack’s not a great person – you all know how special he his! But we honor him today for his faithfulness, for his faithfulness through 55 years of membership here at FLUMC. I’m guessing that he’s had times when he’s been more active and less active, times when he felt closer to God, or closer to the congregation, times of great joy and times of struggle too. So we celebrate today not a consistent unwavering journey – none of us have that. We celebrate a life of great faithfulness all along a journey of discipleship.

Our song from Superstar this week is a duet between Peter and Mary Magdalene, “Could We Start Again, Please?” It expresses the angst that both feel as Jesus is arrested, and tried, and they feel helpless to stop it. Peter, especially, post denying the Christ he’s followed for years, wants to know, “Could We Start Again, Please?” The answer is yes, yes, yes. We can start again, and again, and again, and again. That is the gift of grace from God that we receive, that we can, indeed, always start again when we make a ridiculous mess of what God has given us and with what God has called us to do. We can always start again, because God always has faith in us. And if God can have faith in us, in you and in me, who make so many wrong turns, who fail so often, who give up so many times, who sin and hurt one another and walk away from God – if God can have faith in us to help us start again, can we not have faith in God?

Peter sank into the waters. He had Jesus calling him Satan. He denied Jesus at the very time he was most needed. What an example of faith for us! But he also stepped out of the boat, out of his safety zone. And he tried again, even after he let Jesus down so utterly. And he know who Jesus was, and had faith because of it that he could continue to follow God, even if it meant starting over again, and again, and again. Even when we know the answer to that question we’ve been exploring – Who Do You Say that I Am? – even when we let our answer change us, we, like Peter, will find that our path is not a straight line from beginning to end. But we follow a faithful God who inspires faithfulness in us, and we can always, always begin again.

Amen.

Sermon for Fourth Sunday in Lent (non-lectionary)

(Sermon 3/22/09, Luke 7:36-50, 8:1-3, Luke 10:38-42, John 12:1-7, Matthew 27:45-50, 55-61, 28:1)

Mary, Mary, Mary?

Mary Magdalene – what do we really know about Mary? Not much. In fact, we probably think we know more than we do. Mary Magdalene is mentioned only rarely in the gospels, in fact, mentioned only one time outside of accounts of Jesus’ death and resurrection. In one passage in Luke, there is mention of the fact that Mary Magdalene had been cured from possession by demons by Jesus, and that she was traveling with him along with some other women and the Twelve as he was teaching and preaching. Other than that, Mary Magdalene is only mentioned in the context of being at the scene of Jesus’ crucifixion, helping the women with burial rites, and then, of course, most significantly, at Jesus’ resurrection, as the first witness, the first teller of the news. She’s mentioned nowhere else, despite popular beliefs. She is not the woman caught in adultery. She is not labeled a sinner. She is not a prostitute. She is not the woman who anoints Jesus’ feet. She is not the Mary who is sister to Martha and Lazarus, not the Mary who is praised for simply sitting at Jesus’ feet. All we know is that she was following Jesus, that she witnessed his crucifixion along with other women who were followers.

I’m not exactly sure how or why these several separate women in the scriptures become merged into one. It happened very early in church history, that these several stories began to be folded into one in the Christian narrative. We see evidence that Jesus was inclusive of women in his ministry – radically inclusive for his day – he had women who followed along with the rest of the disciples, he spoke to women in circumstances that were normally considered inappropriate, and he heals women along with men, commending them for their great faith. But after the church was born, when the disciples were leading and growing congregations, women’s roles in the movement began to be suppressed and minimized. By the 6^th century, the Pope, Gregory the First, preached a sermon merging the sinful woman who anointed Jesus’ feet, Mary of Bethany, sister of Martha and Lazarus, and Mary Magdalene, together as one person. And it was not until 1969 that the Catholic Church officially stated that the sinful woman, Mary of Bethany, and Mary Magdalene were actually three separate women. That’s well over a thousand years of assuming Mary Magdalene to be not only a sinful woman, but more particularly, a prostitute, when the scriptures simply tell us no such thing. Centuries of paintings show Mary Magdalene with bright red hair, worn long, rather than covered as would have been appropriate. Films and musicals, like my own beloved Superstar, have portrayed Mary as a prostitute. Mary Magdalene has been seen as the example of a life redeemed, a forgiven woman who turned things around.

But then, in the last several years, the tide seemed to turn – people started to get interested in Mary Magdalene again. And if I had to point to what sparked the interest, I’d point to Dan Brown’s The DaVinci Code that was so popular a handful of years ago. The book suggested that through DaVinci’s artwork, you could discover the hidden secret – that Jesus really married Mary Magdalene and had a child with her, and that Mary was really the most devoted disciple, whose image had been smeared by those who were jealous of her and her power and bent on telling a certain version of Jesus’ story. Interest in Mary Magdalene exploded, even though Brown’s book was a work of fiction, and people started reading some of the Gnostic Gospels, writings that were not included in our scriptures, which also pictured Mary Magdalene as a prominent disciple, though never as Jesus’ wife.

So who is Mary Magdalene, really? Personally, though I’ve read and enjoyed both The DaVinci Code, and the Gnostic Gospels, I like to focus on what the biblical scriptures tell us, with what is really in the text before us, and understanding that, before adding other sources. So who are these Marys, exactly, and really, who end up so blurred together? Let’s look at what the scriptures actually say. First, Mary Magdalene. We see her at the tomb on Easter morning. But we’re not ready for Easter yet. The only other place Mary is mentioned is in the other text we read today: “Soon afterwards Jesus went on through cities and villages, proclaiming and bringing the good news of the kingdom of God. The twelve were with him, as well as some women who had been cured of evil spirits and infirmities: Mary, called Magdalene, from whom seven demons had gone out, and Joanna, the wife of Herod’s steward Chuza, and Susanna, and many others, who provided for them out of their resources.” This is the only mention of Mary Magdalene other than at the cross, burial, and resurrection of Jesus. From these few verses though, we know that Mary and some other women went with Jesus and the twelve on his preaching and teaching tour. For women in his day, that is a huge and risky commitment. We know that Mary was healed by Jesus, even though we might not understand what it means to be possessed by demons. And we know that these women provided for Jesus and disciples, which suggests that they were women with some wealth and resources at their disposal to use to support Jesus’ ministry. And that is simply all the scriptures say about Mary Magdalene.

Then, there’s Mary of Bethany. We know she’s not Mary Magdalene primarily because Magdala and Bethany are two different places! Mary of Bethany is the sister of Lazarus and Martha. We see her in three significant scenes: We see her sitting and listening at Jesus’ feet while he was at her home, and while Martha prepared a meal. Martha was upset with Mary, but Jesus tells her she’s chosen the better part by listening to him. We see Mary upset with Jesus when Lazarus dies because Jesus did not arrive quickly enough to heal him. This time it is Martha who shines in her understanding of resurrection, and Jesus raises Lazarus from the dead. And finally, we see Mary of Bethany anointing Jesus’ feet with costly perfume, and Judas, or in other gospels, all the disciples, being upset over her wastefulness. But Jesus commends her for her act of extravagant love.

And finally, the other woman who is often confused with these two Marys is the unnamed woman who anoints Jesus’ feet at the home of Simon the Pharisee. She and Mary of Bethany both anoint Jesus’ feet, and so the two have often been mistaken for one another, but anointing of feet was not a particularly unusual act. It probably happened to Jesus many times that aren’t even recorded. And thinking of Mary Magdalene as a prostitute also probably comes from this passage about an unnamed woman. This unnamed woman is never called a prostitute, just a sinner, but wearing her hair down, and the way Simon speaks of her being known as a sinner suggest that she may have been a prostitute. But there’s no conclusive proof. So this sinful woman anoints Jesus’ feet with ointment and her own tears. Simon is critical of Jesus for letting such a woman perform this act of devotion, but Jesus, with a parable, says that her sins are forgiven, and because her sins are so completely forgiven, the woman reacts with deeply loving behavior.

These are the three woman who have been rolled into one, but their stories are really quite unique. And there are even other Marys in the Bible – a few actually – but just mentioned by their very common name. So with their identities untangled, we then have to ask what we learn for ourselves. I think restoring Mary Magdalene’s reputation is a worthy endeavor on its own – she deserves to be remembered for what the gospels tell us she was – a follower of Jesus and the first witness of the resurrection. But what do we learn from her? As I’ve said, we’re looking, this Lent, at who we say Jesus is, and what that says about us. So who does Mary Magdalene say that he is? And who does Mary of Bethany say that he is? And who, even, does the sinful woman who anointed his feet say that he is? For each, in different ways, Jesus was quite literally their savior. Mary Magdalene is healed from something described as demon-possession. Seven demons, actually. Whatever this meant, it would have made her ritually unclean and shunned from society. Jesus saves her. Jesus forgives the sins of the unnamed woman, and takes a burden of guilt from her, and she responds with such love, such relief, such thankfulness. Mary of Bethany has her brother returned to life, and finds Jesus’ affirming her choices of discipleship in more than one situation. Jesus has saved these women. Who do they say he is? Their savior. And because they see him this way, their lives change dramatically. Where the song from Superstar I sang today resonates with me most deeply is where Mary sings: “I’ve been changed, yes, really changed. In these past few days, when I see myself, I seem like someone else.” Their lives after meeting Jesus are almost unrecognizable from the lives they led before they met, knew, and followed him.

Last week, we talked about Pontius Pilate, and his apathy. He recognized Jesus as someone important, but it didn’t matter to him more than his own power and status. Who Pilate was was more important to him than who Jesus was. He isn’t changed by who Jesus is. When we look at Mary Magdalene, and these other women, the questions are the same, and Mary, like Pilate, recognizes Jesus. But the difference, the critical difference, is in the response. Who Jesus is changes Mary Magdalene, and the others, because who Jesus is changes how they see themselves. Mary of Bethany is singled out by Jesus more than once for her sincere discipleship, and we hear more about her than most of the twelve, which tells us how significant she was. The ‘sinful’ woman has her sins forgiven and shows Jesus an act of love, ignoring the insults of a prominent Pharisee. Mary Magdalene packs up and literally follows Jesus, even supporting Jesus and the twelve financially, which would enable them to preach and teach without worrying about their resources. They know who Jesus is to them, and because of it, their lives have changed.

The question is still the same for us this week: Who do you say that Jesus is? How does who he is to you change you? Does knowing Jesus change you? Are you changeable? We’re well into our Lenten journey now, a time of preparation for Easter. And I’ve come, this Lent, to think that Lent is a time to prepare ourselves to be more changeable on Easter morning. On Easter morning, we’ll see Mary Magdalene in her most significant role yet – the very first witness to the resurrection. And on Easter morning, we’ll have to ask ourselves once and for all who Jesus is, and how it changes us.

This week, I keep returning to a question posed by Lovett Weems, a church leadership guru, at one of our past District Days. He asked us, “if your church disappeared today, who, besides its members, would miss it? Who would notice it was gone?” He wasn’t talking about who would miss the physical structure, of course, but was asking what noticeable impact that church had on the community that would be missed. Who would miss this church, besides us, if it was gone, because of the difference we make? How would your discipleship be missed if you weren’t around? In other words, what changes are visible in our lives and in the life of the community because of who we say Jesus is and what that means we are called to do? Are you changeable? Are we changeable?

Jesus saved them. And it changed their lives. Amen.