You Are Here
Sermon
Sermons on the Gospel Readings
Series III, Cycle C
Object:
Maybe you've seen the drawing on a T-shirt or poster. There's a picture of our Milky Way Galaxy, swirling like a pinwheel in the depths of space, with an arrow pointing to the periphery of one of the arms. Printed alongside the arrow are the words: "You Are Here."
There's perspective for you. Our earth spinning around an inconsequential sun on the edge of an average galaxy, a swirling mass so great that you cannot distinguish our star from any other. You are here.
That might seem a little depressing, or funny, or awe-inspiring, depending on your perspective, but those words can also be helpful. When we are especially confused about our location it helps to have a map that marks our position with a star or an X, and proclaims, "You are here!" Once we're oriented in this way we can begin our journey more intelligently.
Think of those occasions when you've been in a large mall, or a cavernous government office, a museum, and you're lost, confused, more than a little embarrassed, and perhaps even a little afraid -- but then you see a map, pointing out exactly where you are, with those comforting words "You are here." Suddenly you're okay.
Wouldn't it be nice if there was a chart of your life with an arrow and the words, "You are here"?
There is.
It's called Good Friday. There's a cross on a hill that's suddenly not so far away anymore. There's a great drama going on, it's a nightmare, and you're in it, and there's no waking up, not just yet. Good Friday means we've got to ride this out, all the way to the end.
You are here.
You are here. Right in the middle of the crucifixion story. You are here. There's no need to ask the way to the cross. You are here -- and you ought to be clear about what his journey means and what means you intend to use to get where you're going.
Now, find yourself in the story. From what angle are you seeing everything? Are you on the cross? Are you suffering? Are you one of the disciples who have deserted the cross? Are you one of the women who have stood by Jesus through the worst of it?
Or -- are you in the crowd? Are you looking on, not sure what to think? Were you one of those calling for his execution?
You're probably thinking, No I'm not. I'm not there. I'm not in the crowd. At worst I'm one of the disciples. I'm a little afraid, but I'll be back. I'll be forgiven. I would never let Jesus down. I wouldn't be shouting crucify him. I wouldn't --
Really?
Have you never taken a look at a clothing label and wondered if it had been made in a sweat shop, here in this land or overseas, and decided there was nothing you could do about it anyway?
Have you never wondered how your food was grown and who suffered to keep your costs down?
Did you hear about the torture and mistreatment of prisoners in our midst, about the prison scandals overseas and because you were so afraid for yourself you dismissed the images and decided those people were just getting what they deserved?
Have you ever heard the statistics about the high rate of incarceration for people of one race and the low rate for those of another race for the same crimes and not been outraged?
Does it matter to you that there are people working below the minimum wage?
What did Caiaphas say?
You know nothing at all! You do not understand that it is better for you to have one man die for the people than to have the whole nation destroyed.
-- John 11:49-50
That has nothing to do with Jesus. It has nothing to do with me standing there calling for his crucifixion.
Hmmm. What did Jesus say: That people would plead with him at the end of time.
"Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not take care of you?" Then he will answer them, "Truly I tell you, just as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me."
-- Matthew 25:44-45
But there's hope. If you are uncomfortable -- if you are the object of derision, you might be on the right side. If you think that at least you'd want to be there, even if you're not sure you would be, there's hope.
You are invited to stand next to the cross. It is difficult, painful, just plain awful. So practice. How often does one hear things like: I don't want to go to the nursing home, I hear, because it depresses me.
It was awfully depressing next to the cross as well.
There is hope. Because if we admit we are weak, then we're open to God's transforming power. As long as we think we can do it on our own we're setting ourselves up for one amazing fall.
Think of the women. Roman and Judean society discounted the place of women, who were not even allowed to be witnesses in court because they were not considered reliable. But as the fourth-century Christian orator, John Chrysostom, said: "But the women stood by the cross, and the weaker sex then appeared the manlier so entirely henceforth were all things transformed."
God uses our weakness so that his strength is revealed. The weak made strong, the strong revealed weak. We are transformed by the cross. We rise to the occasion or we don't. We stand by God's suffering people -- or we don't. Either way, you don't have a choice. There's no escaping the fact that --
You are here!
So you might as well throw yourself upon the Lord and beg for his strength, which is sufficient for all things, because on this day of days, we have nothing else going for us.
What keeps us going when there is no going,
When there is no knowing, when nothing is showing,
When everyone's sinking, and no one is thinking
Of anything else but themselves? And the winking
Of those who claim power means power is shrinking
For all of the rest of us. Something is stinking.
What keeps us going? There's simply no knowing,
And no one is throwing a bone to God's own,
The poor and the pained and the door that sustained
Us with thoughts of the fields of green, so serene
is simply not anywhere there. Nor now seen, it's obscene.
What keeps us riding Jerusalem's tiding that God's still abiding
And God is still siding with poor, there abiding?
Oh, there will be loss, and against us they toss the lie
and disguise and resize what is true with their sties but the fact still remains
That the boss is right there in plain sight on the cross.
And that's why we just keep on going without any knowing
Despite all the pain that they send at the end where the X marks the spot
What you got is the tomb, there's a whole lot of room,
Cause it's just been vacated, the debt's been placated, the collector's are sated
The Word raised on high when the Lord was berated
In plain sight of all paid the price for the fall
And is risen
With that knowing with nothing else showing
We somehow have found the strong will to keep going.
The loss on the cross will thrill and instill in us will
To triumph, harrumph, because everything's covered in glory,
And that, friends, in truth, is the sum of my story.
Amen.
There's perspective for you. Our earth spinning around an inconsequential sun on the edge of an average galaxy, a swirling mass so great that you cannot distinguish our star from any other. You are here.
That might seem a little depressing, or funny, or awe-inspiring, depending on your perspective, but those words can also be helpful. When we are especially confused about our location it helps to have a map that marks our position with a star or an X, and proclaims, "You are here!" Once we're oriented in this way we can begin our journey more intelligently.
Think of those occasions when you've been in a large mall, or a cavernous government office, a museum, and you're lost, confused, more than a little embarrassed, and perhaps even a little afraid -- but then you see a map, pointing out exactly where you are, with those comforting words "You are here." Suddenly you're okay.
Wouldn't it be nice if there was a chart of your life with an arrow and the words, "You are here"?
There is.
It's called Good Friday. There's a cross on a hill that's suddenly not so far away anymore. There's a great drama going on, it's a nightmare, and you're in it, and there's no waking up, not just yet. Good Friday means we've got to ride this out, all the way to the end.
You are here.
You are here. Right in the middle of the crucifixion story. You are here. There's no need to ask the way to the cross. You are here -- and you ought to be clear about what his journey means and what means you intend to use to get where you're going.
Now, find yourself in the story. From what angle are you seeing everything? Are you on the cross? Are you suffering? Are you one of the disciples who have deserted the cross? Are you one of the women who have stood by Jesus through the worst of it?
Or -- are you in the crowd? Are you looking on, not sure what to think? Were you one of those calling for his execution?
You're probably thinking, No I'm not. I'm not there. I'm not in the crowd. At worst I'm one of the disciples. I'm a little afraid, but I'll be back. I'll be forgiven. I would never let Jesus down. I wouldn't be shouting crucify him. I wouldn't --
Really?
Have you never taken a look at a clothing label and wondered if it had been made in a sweat shop, here in this land or overseas, and decided there was nothing you could do about it anyway?
Have you never wondered how your food was grown and who suffered to keep your costs down?
Did you hear about the torture and mistreatment of prisoners in our midst, about the prison scandals overseas and because you were so afraid for yourself you dismissed the images and decided those people were just getting what they deserved?
Have you ever heard the statistics about the high rate of incarceration for people of one race and the low rate for those of another race for the same crimes and not been outraged?
Does it matter to you that there are people working below the minimum wage?
What did Caiaphas say?
You know nothing at all! You do not understand that it is better for you to have one man die for the people than to have the whole nation destroyed.
-- John 11:49-50
That has nothing to do with Jesus. It has nothing to do with me standing there calling for his crucifixion.
Hmmm. What did Jesus say: That people would plead with him at the end of time.
"Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not take care of you?" Then he will answer them, "Truly I tell you, just as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me."
-- Matthew 25:44-45
But there's hope. If you are uncomfortable -- if you are the object of derision, you might be on the right side. If you think that at least you'd want to be there, even if you're not sure you would be, there's hope.
You are invited to stand next to the cross. It is difficult, painful, just plain awful. So practice. How often does one hear things like: I don't want to go to the nursing home, I hear, because it depresses me.
It was awfully depressing next to the cross as well.
There is hope. Because if we admit we are weak, then we're open to God's transforming power. As long as we think we can do it on our own we're setting ourselves up for one amazing fall.
Think of the women. Roman and Judean society discounted the place of women, who were not even allowed to be witnesses in court because they were not considered reliable. But as the fourth-century Christian orator, John Chrysostom, said: "But the women stood by the cross, and the weaker sex then appeared the manlier so entirely henceforth were all things transformed."
God uses our weakness so that his strength is revealed. The weak made strong, the strong revealed weak. We are transformed by the cross. We rise to the occasion or we don't. We stand by God's suffering people -- or we don't. Either way, you don't have a choice. There's no escaping the fact that --
You are here!
So you might as well throw yourself upon the Lord and beg for his strength, which is sufficient for all things, because on this day of days, we have nothing else going for us.
What keeps us going when there is no going,
When there is no knowing, when nothing is showing,
When everyone's sinking, and no one is thinking
Of anything else but themselves? And the winking
Of those who claim power means power is shrinking
For all of the rest of us. Something is stinking.
What keeps us going? There's simply no knowing,
And no one is throwing a bone to God's own,
The poor and the pained and the door that sustained
Us with thoughts of the fields of green, so serene
is simply not anywhere there. Nor now seen, it's obscene.
What keeps us riding Jerusalem's tiding that God's still abiding
And God is still siding with poor, there abiding?
Oh, there will be loss, and against us they toss the lie
and disguise and resize what is true with their sties but the fact still remains
That the boss is right there in plain sight on the cross.
And that's why we just keep on going without any knowing
Despite all the pain that they send at the end where the X marks the spot
What you got is the tomb, there's a whole lot of room,
Cause it's just been vacated, the debt's been placated, the collector's are sated
The Word raised on high when the Lord was berated
In plain sight of all paid the price for the fall
And is risen
With that knowing with nothing else showing
We somehow have found the strong will to keep going.
The loss on the cross will thrill and instill in us will
To triumph, harrumph, because everything's covered in glory,
And that, friends, in truth, is the sum of my story.
Amen.
