Have You Ever Screwed Up?
Sermon
Simple Faith?
Cycle B Sermons for Lent and Easter Based on Gospel Texts
Have you ever screwed up? I mean, really, really screwed up? It may have been fully well-intentioned or not, but the simple fact is that you knew you screwed up and so did everyone else. If you have, then you may have a slight idea of what the mood was in that little group of people who walked down the road that morning.
Only a few of them had actually been there to see what had happened on Friday; the rest had already run away or gone into hiding. As many times as those few told the story of what they had seen, no one could make sense of it. They spent the entire sabbath day talking together, trying to answer two questions.
First, what had gone wrong? For the past three years they had heard Jesus talking about a future that was bright and good, a future where everyone would be valued and every person would be treated as a child of God. Just last week, they came into Jerusalem with lots of followers and big celebrations, certain that what Jesus had been saying was about to become reality. But... what happened? Was Jesus wrong? Was he just another persuasive rebel who was able to brainwash them into following and believing? Were they all really that gullible? What had happened? And why did Judas do what he did? Did he somehow believe that if he forced a confrontation, Jesus would call down the angels from heaven right then and there? Or was he just a con artist? Why had it ended like this? What had happened to the kingdom? What happened to the dream? What had happened?
But it was the second question in each of their minds that was the more difficult and painful to answer. They realized that they may never understand “why” things turned out as they had, but they also realized that they would have to find the answer to this second question: What do I do now?
Matthew tried to answer that question. He closed his eyes and clearly pictured the day when he had pushed himself back from his desk, stood up, and walked out the office door, never to return. Being a tax collector had made him a powerful man, well-connected and wealthy as well. He had learned to live with the way the “normal people” hated him, but he didn’t need to spend much time with the normal people anyway. He also still saw the looks on the faces of his former colleagues each time they saw him walking through town with this group of disciples over the next few years. He had become a joke to them. Not only had he walked away from their power and riches but he and his group actually argued against the very things that made them powerful and rich. How could he go back there again? Especially the way things had actually worked out; how could he ever again go home and have them look at him as anything other than a fool? Where would he go? What would he do?
Peter and the other fishermen had the same thoughts. How could they return to Bethsaida and Capernaum and face anyone? The brothers had walked away from the business they owned and were responsible for, not to mention leaving their wives and children. How many lives had they disrupted when they walked down the beach following this prophet? The prophet had now gone off and left them. For the first few months, whenever they would travel through town, their families would come out and stand on the street to greet them, tell them how much they missed them, and ask when they were coming back home. The elderly father they had left to run the business would look with hopeful eyes to see if they had come back to take the burden from his shoulders once again. But as the months went by, they stopped coming out and they stopped looking. How could any of these guys go back home and explain anything? Where would they go? What would they do?
Mary may have struggled the most with this question. If anyone was facing a difficult time returning home, it was this young woman from Magdala, the little town on the western shore of the Sea of Galilee. Scripture tells us she was a woman who was afflicted by seven demons that Jesus cast out.
Mary was a woman who had fallen under the prey of those seven demons; something not of her choosing. Unfortunately for her, it really made no difference. The common view was that if someone suffered for any reason, it was because they deserved it for some reason. And someone who was possessed by as many as seven demons, well, they clearly had done something quite serious and therefore should be avoided by the rest of the community. So people laughed and children threw stones.
Jesus and his little group had offered her a life she never had at home. For the past three years she was treated as a human being, felt valued, and actually began to believe that she was a child of God. Back in Magdala, on top of already being the outcast, she was now the one who had run off to follow the crazy preacher who got himself killed; proving her foolishness. So, where would she go? What would she do?
Perhaps that’s why Mary was the first to get up this morning and make her way to the tomb. She was there to perform one final act of kindness to the one person who had treated her with any kind of love. That final act was to complete the formal burial ritual by cleaning the body, anointing it with sweet smelling oils, and then wrapping it in the formal burial cloth. This was usually done by family, and to Mary, this man was the only true family she knew.
The pain she was already feeling was compounded when she found that the tomb was opened, and the body was gone.
Not only had they taken away the hope she’d nurtured during the last three years, but now someone had taken away the chance for the one final act of love she had to offer. She ran back to Peter and another disciple with him, telling them what had happened. We can see the footrace that followed as the three of them all ran to the tomb. Peter was the last to get there, perhaps because he had already given up the hope needed for a good, fast run. Over the next few minutes, they walked in and out of the tomb, seeing the strips of burial cloth and the things Mary had brought for the anointing, but nothing else. I try to imagine the confusion in their minds as they slowly turned and walked away to go... somewhere.
Mary was the only one who stayed behind. It wasn’t because she expected anything to happen. She just honestly did not know where else to go. She was as empty inside herself as was the tomb. The tears came. She was a strong woman and had stood up to the laughter and the stones. She had never bowed her head or wept. In her new life she had traveled the length of the country, holding her head up high as a follower of Jesus of Nazareth, believing his message about the value of all people. Now all that was left were the tears.
We know what happened next. It’s one of the main reasons we are here this morning. Each gospel writer describes it differently, but in the next few minutes Mary is reminded that we can never assume we know what God is going to do. She and the other disciples had it all figured out, because it was something that was known. When someone died, they were buried and someone would perform the anointing ritual and it would then be over. Those left behind would have to fend for themselves and face on their own whatever was to come. Any dreams that had existed would cease to exist. That was how death worked. But in the next few minutes, Mary learned that we can never assume we understand God, and we can never define what God is going to be and do. Any time we attempt to put God in a box and begin to create rules that are intended to limit freedom and life, we’re going to find that box empty. God does not stay in tombs or boxes. Anytime we try to limit God’s love, God will pop up somewhere to let us know that our limits just don’t stand.
My favorite image of Easter morning is not the empty tomb. As grand as that is, my favorite image of Easter morning is Mary’s face... covered with beads of perspiration as she raced through the streets heading back to find Peter and the others. It is the look in her eyes as she thinks about how she will tell them that it is not over; they do not have to go back to the way things were. They hadn’t screwed up after all.
Only a few of them had actually been there to see what had happened on Friday; the rest had already run away or gone into hiding. As many times as those few told the story of what they had seen, no one could make sense of it. They spent the entire sabbath day talking together, trying to answer two questions.
First, what had gone wrong? For the past three years they had heard Jesus talking about a future that was bright and good, a future where everyone would be valued and every person would be treated as a child of God. Just last week, they came into Jerusalem with lots of followers and big celebrations, certain that what Jesus had been saying was about to become reality. But... what happened? Was Jesus wrong? Was he just another persuasive rebel who was able to brainwash them into following and believing? Were they all really that gullible? What had happened? And why did Judas do what he did? Did he somehow believe that if he forced a confrontation, Jesus would call down the angels from heaven right then and there? Or was he just a con artist? Why had it ended like this? What had happened to the kingdom? What happened to the dream? What had happened?
But it was the second question in each of their minds that was the more difficult and painful to answer. They realized that they may never understand “why” things turned out as they had, but they also realized that they would have to find the answer to this second question: What do I do now?
Matthew tried to answer that question. He closed his eyes and clearly pictured the day when he had pushed himself back from his desk, stood up, and walked out the office door, never to return. Being a tax collector had made him a powerful man, well-connected and wealthy as well. He had learned to live with the way the “normal people” hated him, but he didn’t need to spend much time with the normal people anyway. He also still saw the looks on the faces of his former colleagues each time they saw him walking through town with this group of disciples over the next few years. He had become a joke to them. Not only had he walked away from their power and riches but he and his group actually argued against the very things that made them powerful and rich. How could he go back there again? Especially the way things had actually worked out; how could he ever again go home and have them look at him as anything other than a fool? Where would he go? What would he do?
Peter and the other fishermen had the same thoughts. How could they return to Bethsaida and Capernaum and face anyone? The brothers had walked away from the business they owned and were responsible for, not to mention leaving their wives and children. How many lives had they disrupted when they walked down the beach following this prophet? The prophet had now gone off and left them. For the first few months, whenever they would travel through town, their families would come out and stand on the street to greet them, tell them how much they missed them, and ask when they were coming back home. The elderly father they had left to run the business would look with hopeful eyes to see if they had come back to take the burden from his shoulders once again. But as the months went by, they stopped coming out and they stopped looking. How could any of these guys go back home and explain anything? Where would they go? What would they do?
Mary may have struggled the most with this question. If anyone was facing a difficult time returning home, it was this young woman from Magdala, the little town on the western shore of the Sea of Galilee. Scripture tells us she was a woman who was afflicted by seven demons that Jesus cast out.
Mary was a woman who had fallen under the prey of those seven demons; something not of her choosing. Unfortunately for her, it really made no difference. The common view was that if someone suffered for any reason, it was because they deserved it for some reason. And someone who was possessed by as many as seven demons, well, they clearly had done something quite serious and therefore should be avoided by the rest of the community. So people laughed and children threw stones.
Jesus and his little group had offered her a life she never had at home. For the past three years she was treated as a human being, felt valued, and actually began to believe that she was a child of God. Back in Magdala, on top of already being the outcast, she was now the one who had run off to follow the crazy preacher who got himself killed; proving her foolishness. So, where would she go? What would she do?
Perhaps that’s why Mary was the first to get up this morning and make her way to the tomb. She was there to perform one final act of kindness to the one person who had treated her with any kind of love. That final act was to complete the formal burial ritual by cleaning the body, anointing it with sweet smelling oils, and then wrapping it in the formal burial cloth. This was usually done by family, and to Mary, this man was the only true family she knew.
The pain she was already feeling was compounded when she found that the tomb was opened, and the body was gone.
Not only had they taken away the hope she’d nurtured during the last three years, but now someone had taken away the chance for the one final act of love she had to offer. She ran back to Peter and another disciple with him, telling them what had happened. We can see the footrace that followed as the three of them all ran to the tomb. Peter was the last to get there, perhaps because he had already given up the hope needed for a good, fast run. Over the next few minutes, they walked in and out of the tomb, seeing the strips of burial cloth and the things Mary had brought for the anointing, but nothing else. I try to imagine the confusion in their minds as they slowly turned and walked away to go... somewhere.
Mary was the only one who stayed behind. It wasn’t because she expected anything to happen. She just honestly did not know where else to go. She was as empty inside herself as was the tomb. The tears came. She was a strong woman and had stood up to the laughter and the stones. She had never bowed her head or wept. In her new life she had traveled the length of the country, holding her head up high as a follower of Jesus of Nazareth, believing his message about the value of all people. Now all that was left were the tears.
We know what happened next. It’s one of the main reasons we are here this morning. Each gospel writer describes it differently, but in the next few minutes Mary is reminded that we can never assume we know what God is going to do. She and the other disciples had it all figured out, because it was something that was known. When someone died, they were buried and someone would perform the anointing ritual and it would then be over. Those left behind would have to fend for themselves and face on their own whatever was to come. Any dreams that had existed would cease to exist. That was how death worked. But in the next few minutes, Mary learned that we can never assume we understand God, and we can never define what God is going to be and do. Any time we attempt to put God in a box and begin to create rules that are intended to limit freedom and life, we’re going to find that box empty. God does not stay in tombs or boxes. Anytime we try to limit God’s love, God will pop up somewhere to let us know that our limits just don’t stand.
My favorite image of Easter morning is not the empty tomb. As grand as that is, my favorite image of Easter morning is Mary’s face... covered with beads of perspiration as she raced through the streets heading back to find Peter and the others. It is the look in her eyes as she thinks about how she will tell them that it is not over; they do not have to go back to the way things were. They hadn’t screwed up after all.
