"My God, my God..." - Good Friday Reflection

Hope you had a blessed Easter.

Here is a brief sermon from Good Friday on Jesus saying, "My God, my God why have you forsaken me?" from the cross.

Good Friday – My God, My God

The Fourth Word - 45 From noon on, darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon. 46 And about three o'clock Jesus cried with a loud voice, "Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?" that is, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"

“I feel so alone,” she said to no one in particular perhaps because no one was there. At least that is the way it seemed to her that afternoon.

“I just feel so alone,” she repeated under her breath.

As she sat there in the uncomfortable pleather chair, waiting for the news, the weight of her solitude began to push in upon her with a ferocity she was not sure she would be able to bear.

“Why,” she thought, or perhaps she said it out loud, not that it really mattered. “Why in this moment when I need comfort the most do I feel so alone?” She buried her heavy head into her hands and began to cry…

Looking toward the sky she said, “Do you hear me? Why? Why do I feel so alone?”

This seemingly familiar scene is difficult to witness. No one wants to see another person struggle with feelings of solitude and abandonment.

If we are honest, we struggle to openly admit that such despair even exists. In fact, we clutter our lives with things and our calendars with appointments just to make sure that we avoid these feelings at all cost.

However, feelings such as this are impossible to outrun.  Awaiting the diagnosis, hearing the sad news, identifying our own feelings of inadequacy…We feel alone. We feel abandoned. These feelings are a part of the human experience. They are impossible to outrun.

On this day, on a dreaded tree, a man hangs to condemned to die. There, this man named Jesus suffers unimaginable pain, cruel indignity, and heart rending sorrow. And as the time of his death approaches he speaks once again. The author of the Gospel of Matthew writes that Jesus cried with a loud voice, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Some of those gathered at the foot of the cross misunderstood his words. They thought that he was calling upon Elijah, who some traditions held was to reappear to usher in the kingdom of God. It was an honest mistake.  That was event for which many were longing. But that was not the sentiment that came from Jesus’ mouth. Those weren’t the words that spilled from the lips of the crucified Emmanuel.

No, hanging on the cross, Jesus recited the words of the 22^nd Psalm in his mother tongue of Aramaic. “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?” My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?

And we cringe at the words. For as one commentator wrote, “We have been taught to give pat answers in the face of life’s difficult questions, and (saying such a thing), certainly, is not one of (the pat answers we were trained to give). But Jesus knew what he was saying. By uttering these words from Psalm 22, he is challenging, daring, us to consider things we would rather not, notions as sublime as the inseparability of suffering and glory, of incarnation, of eschatological hope from the ashen brink of death.” (Matthews 286)

Jesus knew the pain of separation more powerfully than one could ever imagine. Jesus, the Son of God, Emmanuel, God with us, understood the words of the psalmist deeply and in a manner no one had ever felt before or since.

Marti Steussy, Old Testament professor and Psalm scholar at Christian Theological Seminary here in Indianapolis writes, “Jesus experienced a variety of humiliations representing a whole range of human suffering and alienation, even unto the sense of being forsaken by God. At this point, we see Jesus’ real humanity…”  (Steussy 89)

This muddies the waters of a sanitized faith. It is much easier to consider a swaddled baby in a manger than a naked man hanging on a tree. It is more wonderful to consider the empty tomb than a blood stained cross. These are God forsaken moments.  These are moments of felt-absence not soothing presence.

There on the cross, with the cry of the psalmist on his lips, “Jesus will be left – forsaken – to the forces of evil. He will really suffer, and he will really die… Both the psalmist and Jesus trust God to save, not by magically eliminating all pain and suffering, but by working beyond human knowing in and through pain and suffering.” (Long 318)

In Psalm 22, “the psalmist laments that she feels that God has forsaken her, but to whom does she lament? She laments to the God who does not forsake us. When Jesus cried out on that cross, he was not speaking to existential nothingness, but to the God who hears and delivers the afflicted. His words did not express a lack of faith, but were a revolutionary credo of trust in the only one who could comfort him – and us.” (Matthews 288)

Experience has taught us that life is not sanitary. And neither is our faith.

We struggle with feelings of abandonment as we sit in those uncomfortable pleather chairs of life, waiting for the news.

And on our lips and in our hearts are the words of the psalmist and our Savior, “My God, my God why have you forsaken me?”

This is not a faithless statement! For in its utterance, we address the one who is never far from us.

Yes, even in the moments of felt-absence, the God incarnate understands. Even in the midst of life’s suffering and the isolation and aloneness that often accompany it, Emmanuel, God with us, has the courage to dwell...with us… even there in the absence. Amen

Prayer

Almighty God, on this Good Friday in the shadow of the cross, may we have the courage to cry out to you even when we feel abandoned. For today, hanging on Golgotha’s cross is Emmanuel, God with us even in our moments of felt absence. It is to you we call. It is to you we pray. Amen.

Works Cited

Long, Thomas G. Matthew - Westminster Bible Companion. Louisville: John Knox Press, 1997.

Matthews, Jr., William P. "Matt". "Pastoral Perspective on Psalm 22." Feasting on the Word: Year A, Vol. 2. Ed. David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor. Louisville: John Knox Press, 2010. 284-289.

Steussy, Marti J. Psalms. St. Louis, Missouri: Chalice Press, 2004.

The Scandal of Christmas

Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la, la-la.

‘Tis the season…

for lights,

for trimmings,

for boxes,

and bows,

for presents wrapped under the tree,

Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la, la-la.

‘Tis the season…

for parties,

for eggnog,

for fudge,

and pumpkin pie,

for family we see only once a year.

Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la, la-la

‘Tis the season…

for hustling,

for bustling,

for to-do lists,

and wish lists,

for calendars packed with special events.

Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la, la-la

‘Tis the season…

for shopping,

for sales,

for commercials,

and traffic jams

for stores overcrowded with holiday cheer?

Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la, la-la

‘Tis the season.

Yes, we may laugh. But often, we arrive at this night overwhelmed, fatigued and perhaps even frazzled wondering where the season has gone.  Many of us love this time of year, but somehow, somewhere along the way it can become little more than a nuisance and a hassle to our everyday lives.  If pressed, others of us would admit that we do not like or maybe even dread when the calendar approaches mid-November.

When the season is finally over, we find ourselves wondering what happened? Where exactly did the joy of the season go?

Where was the mystery?

That for which we had been preparing and building toward for months is now passed, and we are left living our ordinary lives once again.

It is so easy; it is so easy to become distracted by the lights, the trimmings, the boxes, the bows, the preparation…

It is so easy to become distracted by the story itself… the angels, the shepherds, the kings, the manger, the virgin with child…

It is so easy to become distracted by the burdensome unrealistic expectations of the season or the familiarity of the story, that we run the risk of losing sight of the scandalous news of Christmas. 

What is this scandalous news? The scandal is the prophecy that led a king in the 8^th century BC to make an unholy alliance in order to avoid its message.  We heard this news, this prophecy, tonight in the words of the prophet Isaiah when he spoke to Ahaz the king of Judah, the southern kingdom, which stood on the brink of annihilation and captivity.  The prophet told him of a coming sign. He spoke of a child who would be born and was to be named Immanuel – which meant “God with us”.  This child was to be a reminder of God’s promise and covenant with God’s people.

The scandal is that which caused a nervous first century leader, named Herod, to commit heinous crimes in a vain attempt to eradicate the truth of God’s real presence in the flesh.  We heard it a second time tonight when Isaiah’s message was repeated some 900 years later by the author of the Gospel of Matthew.  He understood the prophetic words, the scandalous words, to speak of a child to be born into his own first century world of occupied Israel where the Temple had been destroyed once again and the identity of a people hung in the balance. He heard the prophet's words anew and they spoke directly, emphatically into his world.  The author of Matthew wrote, “an angel of the Lord appeared to (Joseph) in a dream and said, ‘Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins.’ All this took place to fulfill,” the author says, “what the Lord had said through the prophet: ‘The virgin will be with child and will give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel’ – which means, ‘God with us’ ” (Matthew 1:20-23). (PAUSE) This is the scandal of the season.  This is the scandal of the manger.

“God-with-us” in a time of uncertainty, in a time of war, in a time of captivity, even in a seemingly God forsaken time: God with us.

Of the incarnation, God made flesh, theologian Shirley Guthrie wrote, “In a weak, helpless baby lying in a cradle in a barn!...What an inappropriate place to meet ‘Almighty God’! How unspiritual! But hidden in this peasant baby…there is God…personally present.  God is not a (child), but this (child) is God-with-us” (Guthrie, 58). Immanuel – the scandal of Christmas.

It would be simpler if God would just stay at a safe distance from the world – from us. It would be more comfortable if God would remain predictable. It would be far easier if the manger were a fine resin display that could sit on a shelf in the living room only to be dusted off occasionally.  At times, we would prefer a distant, predictable and plasticine god if we could have our choice.

However, the God of Christmas, this scandalous God has a different way. God, the God of the Nativity, is a God of intimacy, the unusual, flesh and blood. This God of the manger is convicting, convincing and constantly calling us to something more.  This is the dangerous nature of the Nativity. This is no sanitized simple faith. In fact, the cradle beckons us to remain in this same messy and wonderful world into which Immanuel was born proclaiming “God-with-us” through the manner in which we live.

Again, Guthrie writes, “The Christmas story is anything but a sentimental, harmless, once-a-year occasion for a ‘Christmas spirit’ (or fa-la-la-la-las) that last only a few days before we return to the ‘facts’; of the ‘real world.’ Christmas is the story of a radical invasion of God into the kind of real world where we live all year long – a world where there is political unrest and injustice, poverty, hatred, jealousy, and both the fear and the longing that things could be different.” And because of the Immanuel, things are different.

Speaking Immanuel into our world is making a proclamation – a present tense declaration of reality, God is with us. 

Speaking Immanuel into our world is declaring a promise – a statement on which our faith and hope stand. It is a yet to come. Our uncertain futures, our doubts, our fears, our dis-ease – God with us.

Speaking Immanuel into our world is a prophetic utterance – it is the call into which we are to live.  It is the challenge to live courageous lives as if Immanuel – God with us – just might be true.

Christmas is dangerous, powerful and risky. For at Christmas, God did not come near. No, God became flesh. This is the decisive disclosure of God.  Immanuel is the ultimate expression of the covenant of God with God’s people.

Immanuel – God with us…here – right here, right now.

And that is the scandal of Christmas. Amen.

Turn and Live

Ezekiel 18:1-4 and Ezekiel 18:25-32

You come in the house and there to greet you in the middle of the living room is your only child.  Right next to her tennis-shoed feet is the antique lamp that once had a place of prominence in her great grandma’s living room and now is found on the floor shattered into a thousand tiny pieces.  After quickly scanning for any evidence of blood or bodily harm you gather yourself and ask what appears to be the most logical question. 

“Honey,” you say in your forced tender grown-up parent voice, “what happened in here?”

With the biggest, saddest eyes ever seen your precious only child says with all the sincerity she can muster, “I…I don’t know.”

Reminding yourself to be calm while you feel your blood pressure continue to rise you say, “Well sweetie, how did the antique lamp break?”

After a moment of painful and pitiful silence and a couple of false starts, she finally says, “B…B….Baxter Bunny broke the lamp when I left the room.”

And there it is.  Your precious, apple of your eye, only child, has just blamed her invisible yet very real friend, Baxter, for her indiscretion. 

Yet, in spite of the absurdity of such a claim you somehow understand.  Baxter the bunny has always been full of mischief.  (Pause)

Your understanding goes beyond knowing your child’s habits, accidents and proclivity to pass the blame.  You genuinely understand.  After all, you too have a Baxter.  We all do, don’t we?  Sure, they go by different names and may not be invisible bunnies, but we all indeed have someone or something that receives the blame for many of our mistakes and foibles.  Our parents, our siblings, our boss, our professors, our government, the media…and the list could go on and on. 

There is a different way.  God calls us to break away from our old familiar patterns.  God calls us to repent, to turn, to take personal responsibility for what is ours so that we might truly live.

In the text from Ezekiel above, we hear the voice of the prophet who is living with his brothers and sister in exile in Babylon.  It is from this exile and then back into this exile that Ezekiel speaks. 

Scholars have said that the book of Ezekiel can be divided into two parts.  In the first section, God uses the voice of Ezekiel to speak about the potential reasons for the captivity of the nation of Israel at the hands of the Babylonians.  Then, by contrast, in the second part of the book we find Ezekiel speaking of the hope that can be found in the Lord and in the future restoration of the kingdom. 

Today’s text from Ezekiel 18 comes from the first portion of the book in which an explanation for the exile is given.  Chapter 18 begins with the voice of God decrying a popular saying that was found in Israel.  The saying goes, “The parents have eaten sour grapes, and the children's teeth are blunted.”  This phrase, this saying, was a way of claiming that the sins of the parents would be passed on to the children.  According to Ezekiel, God decrees that this saying must not be heard any more in Israel. 

Now why would God use the voice of the prophet to say such a thing?  This saying was not an appropriate explanation for the exile and the pain of the nation. This saying had become a crutch; an excuse for the people.  It had become a way for them to hide themselves from personal responsibility.  It had become, if you will, their Baxter Bunny. 

Through the voice of the prophet, the Lord speaks and says that each person is loved by God and is responsible for their actions.  God is calling the people of Israel into and toward personal responsibility. This message was not easy to hear then neither is it easy to hear now.

In the verses that follow this passage, Ezekiel illustrates his point by speaking of several different generations who each bear the personal responsibility for their decisions, some for better and others for worse. 

Then we come to these important words, the climax, where the point is driven home. Again God speaks and says, “Repent and turn from all your transgressions; otherwise iniquity will be your ruin. Cast away from you all the transgressions that you have committed against me, and make (receive for?) yourselves a new heart and a new spirit! Why will you die, O house of Israel? For I have no pleasure in the death of anyone who dies, says the Lord God. Turn, then, and live.”  God calls Israel, the covenant community, yes, but also the individual to repent, to turn; to take personal responsibility for their actions. 

There is corporate culpability, of course.  However, you see, there is also individual responsibility. 

Now, I must confess that this was and continues to be a difficult passage for me.  As I read, I found myself wanting to shout, “But what about the child who is abused?”  The sins of one generation do impact another.  “What about the drunk driver who kills a mother and her two children leaving behind a single father and their six-month old?”  The sins of one generation do impact another.  “What about slavery?”  “What about the treatment of the Native Americans?”  “What about….”

Yes.  Yes.  Yes.  Indeed the sins of one generation do have an impact on the next.  And, our passage of Scripture is not denying the truth of this statement. 

However, this passage of Scripture is challenging us to change the way we think and the excuses we make.  We, along with exiled Israel, are being called to live a life characterized by repentance.  We are being called by this prophetic voice from over 2500 years ago, to step away from the status quo of our easy excuses.  We are called to be honest with ourselves and our God. 

Why should we live a life characterized by repentance?  We should we live such a life because by turning – turning from our sin and familiar ways and turning toward something new – we turn toward life. To be sure, this is not an easy venture. However, it is one to which we are called to become more familiar. We are called to leave the old, the familiar, the safe behind and turn toward transformation and renewal.

Sitting in your favorite chair reading your favorite magazine, you feel a little tap on your leg.  There she stands in front of you once again with those same beautiful big eyes now filled with tears – your wonderful only child.

“Honey, what is wrong?” you ask.

Looking down at her sparkly tennis shoes and shuffling her feet back and forth she says, “Um…Baxter Bunny didn’t break the lamp.  I…I broke the lamp.  And I am sorry.”  And the tears that once filled her eyes now spill down her cheeks.

You reach down; scoop her up in your arms and into your lap.  You look deep into those big eyes and quietly say, “Thank you. It is okay.”

And somehow you are thankful; you are thankful not because she is feeling guilty; you are thankful not because of her pain.  You are thankful because she had the courage to come to you.  She came not to earn your forgiveness. She came because she knew she could find forgiveness in your eyes, acceptance in your arms and love in your presence.

Friends, let us turn.  Let us all repent.  God’s ways are just.  God’s ways are fair.  God desires that all should live.  Forgiveness is offered.  And only in turning can we receive. 

Let us “turn, then, and live.”

Bigger Than We Imagine, Closer Than We Think

Sermon on Memorial Day – May 29, 2011 - (to view video, click here)
Acts 17:22-31 (click on citation to view text)

The morning was full of excitement and anticipation. No one really knew exactly what to expect, but somehow everyone knew it would be great.

The entire group had been preparing for nine months. They had explored, studied and discovered together. They had thought and dreamt about this very moment. And here they were. They had traveled to a new city, a new country together and had a full day ahead of them. As they walked down the street in the early morning sun, the energy was high and the chatter was lively. This was to be the first day of a ten day journey of faith.

The group was handed their tickets and they began the climb up the magnificent hill. As they took the long walk up the hill the group had no idea what is in store for them when they would finally reach the top. I walked in the front of the group and stopped to face them. I wanted to see the looks on their faces. As each individual made the last turn in the path, they came face to face with the grandeur of the historic acropolis in heart of Athens, Greece. Their eyes widened to take the entire scene in as their breath was momentarily abated. There they stood surrounded by the monumental glory of ancient Athens.

Athens…a city named for Athena, Greek goddess of wisdom; a city filled with memories of Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle; a city noted for its fantastic architecture and beautiful Classical Greek art. Located in this city were the Academy of Plato, the Lyceum of Aristotle, and the Areopagus. Ancient Athens was a tribute to the abilities of human hands and a testimony to the wonders of the human mind.

All of the students had seen it in pictures and movies. They had learned about it in history class. But this was different. As they walked through the Propylaea, a magnificent columned gate reaching to the heavens, each was overwhelmed by the majesty of the entire scene. Just inside the gate the students came face to face with the Parthenon in all of its glory! At the top of the hill one could see the entire city laid out at their feet.

After experiencing the acropolis, the group then went to what is affectionately called Mars Hill, the location of Paul’s famous speech to the Areopagus which we read this morning. While there the group of students saw a glimpse of what Paul would have seen in the first century during his visit to Athens. There to the left was the temple of Hephaestus and off in the distance was the famous Stoa, from which Stoics derived their name. This was the site of many great debates and trials in the history of ancient thought. This was the hill of Aristotle and Socrates, the Epicurians and the Stoics. Of the Areopagus, the author of Acts wrote, “Now all the Athenians and the foreigners living there would spend their time in nothing but telling or hearing something new.”

This is the cultural context of our text this morning. In the shadow of the acropolis – the center of the religious life of the Athenians – and just above the bustling agora – the Athenian marketplace – Paul was brought to speak to the Areopagus about this, “new teaching…” As he spoke about his faith, Paul could look down and see the statues and the temples to various gods scattered about the agora.

So who was this God about whom Paul was invited to speak before the learned of Athens? In this famous speech in Acts 17, Paul masterfully speaks of a God that is beyond our imaginings and human ideas of what God might be like yet is simultaneously closer than our own breath. To the Athenians, a very religious people by Paul’s own admission, Paul declares that this God whom they worship as “unknown” can be known and is at the same time both transcendent and immanent.

Paul declares to a people who built wonderful statues and awe inspiring temples to their pantheon of gods that God transcends or is beyond definition, description or category. To the learned of Athens and to our listening ears, Paul proclaims, this unknown god is “the God who made the world and everything in it, he who is Lord of heaven and earth, does not live in shrines made by human hands, nor is he served by human hands, as though he needed anything” (Acts 17:24,25 NRSV). God is beyond the creative thoughts of our minds and the artistic creations of our hands. God is beyond. God transcends our understanding of who we imagine God to be. In his Institutes, reformer John Calvin wrote, “God’s infinity ought to make us afraid to try to measure God by our own senses. Indeed, God’s spiritual nature forbids imagining anything earthly of God…as God is incomprehensible” (Calvin 1.1.8.1). There is nothing to which we can compare the glory and majesty of God. God is wholly other than us. God is transcendent.

Yet, God is not, as Aristotle once posited, an “unmoved mover” distant and unengaged in the happenings of the world which God created. The God of Paul, the God of our faith is transcendent, yes, but ALSO immanent. God is closer to us than we are to our very selves. The First Testament prophets and poets understood that God was not only the creator of all things seen and unseen, but this God was also engaged in the world and each in person’s life. It was a psalmist who famously wrote, “Where can I go from your spirit? Or where can I flee from your presence? If I ascend to heaven, you are there; if I make my bed in Sheol, you are there. If I take the wings of the morning and settle at the farthest limits of the sea, even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me fast…For it was you who formed my inward parts; you knit me together in my mother's womb” (Psalm 139:7-10; 13 NRSV). God is present in creation and active within our lives. God is actively engaged in the happenings of the world in which we live and is not simply a distant unmoved deity unconcerned with the ways of the world. And indeed, God’s immanence, God’s proximity is most evident in the mystery of the incarnation, life, death and resurrection of Jesus, the Christ. One commentator wrote, God “is at once transcendent yet personal, sovereign and fully engaged in human life” (Wall 248).

This is a challenge to us as people of faith. Do we have the courage to allow God to be all that we can imagine and then even more still? Will we allow the God of the universe to be closer to us than we are to our very selves? Of this delicate and often difficult balancing act theologian Stanley Grenz wrote, “On the one hand, God is transcendent. God is self-sufficient apart from the world. (God) is above the universe and comes to the world from beyond…On the other hand, God is immanent in the world. This means that God is present to creation. God is active within the universe, involved with the natural processes and in human history…In short, the God we know is immanent and transcendent. (God) is that reality who is present and active within the world process. Yet (God) is not simply to be equated with it, for (God) is at the same time self-sufficient and ‘beyond’ the universe. In conceiving of God, therefore, we dare neither place (God) so far beyond the world that (God) cannot enter into relationship with (God’s) creatures nor collapse (God) so thoroughly into the world processes that (God) cannot stand over the creation which (God) made.” (Grenz 81).

We tend to err on one side or the other. We either conceive of God in such as fashion as to keep God distant and disengaged from the world in which we live or we bring God so near that God becomes equated with our human experience and reality. As people of faith, we must find a way to allow God to be a God who transcends definition and yet is closer than the air we breathe.

In less than two weeks, another group of students from Second Presbyterian Church will walk up to the top of Mars Hill. They will sit together in the shadow of the acropolis and in full view of the agora. They will take their place where the Areopagus once met some 2000 years ago. They will add their names to the list of over 210 young people from Second who have stepped foot on that very hill over the last 11 years. They will hear the words of the Apostle Paul and ponder who this God is about whom Paul is speaking.

What difference does it make that this God is both transcendent and immanent? I think you can find evidence of the importance in the lives of these young people. You see, some of the students who have sat on that hill have lost a parent or a sibling. It is vitally important for them to believe in a God who is bigger than their experience but close enough to walk through it with them. Some of the young people who have sat on that hill struggle with depression or physical illness. There is no question that they long for a God who is beyond their pain and yet familiar with their struggle. Some of the recent high school graduates who have made that trek have walked a path through life that is more difficult than anything I can imagine. Indeed, their belief in a God that is simultaneously transcendent and immanent has sustained them along the way.

And what about you? Through your most difficult moments, unexpected diagnoses, trying treatments, and painful experiences is it not your conviction that God is big enough to be beyond your circumstance and close enough to walk through it with you that allows you to carry on?

A covenantal God must be immanent as well as transcendent. Without God’s immanence, we are left with a God who transcends all things yet is not engaged in lives of God’s people or their world. Without God’s transcendence, we are left with a God who is engaged in the world but not sovereign over all things and events.

“True to the core biblical idea, then, God is transcendent yet personal, vastly superior to some detached deity that consigns humankind to the vicissitudes of fortune. God is not some provincial deity, the God of a few; nor is God unmoved and unconcerned about the struggles of real people in particular places” (Wall 250). This is a God who is truly worthy of worship; a God whose transcendence and immanence are held in tension, held in one God. This is the deepest mystery. God is bigger than we imagine and closer than we think. Amen.