Holiday For Losers
Stories
Object:
Contents
What's Up This Week
"Holiday for Losers" by C. David McKirachan
"Mary's Lament" by Larry Winebrenner
"The Commoner King" by Larry Winebrenner
"Fact-Checking" by Frank Ramirez
"Doctoral Dissertation" by Larry Winebrenner
"What the Donkey Thought" by Larry Winebrenner
"King on a Donkey" by Larry Winebrenner
"The Orchard of Righteousness" by Larry Winebrenner
What's Up This Week
As we commemorate Jesus' journey to the cross this week, we who live in a sophisticated, modern culture need to ask ourselves: Do we really understand, on a deep-down gut level, what it means that Jesus gave up himself and died for us? If we truly get it, the only way we can possibly respond is an emotional reaction that shakes us to our very core. In this edition of StoryShare, David McKirachan shares the experience of a Bible study he taught that very nearly careened out of control -- only to provide a wonderful teaching moment that led to an extraordinary breakthrough and a deep appreciation of just what the cross means. Larry Winebrenner offers a look inside the mind of Lazarus' sister Mary, and her regrets over being more concerned about her brother than her Lord. Larry also tells a moving parable of a king who gave up everything as a gift to his people. Frank Ramirez provides a meditation with some interesting historical background to shed light on exactly what it meant for Christians to "have the same mind as Christ." Larry Winebrenner describes a most unusual defense of a doctoral dissertation he witnessed while traveling in Poland, as well as a pair of pieces on the readings for the liturgy of the Palms.
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Holiday for Losers
by C. David McKirachan
Mark 14:1--15:47
Bible studies are the bread and butter of my ministry. I love to preach, and people tell me that's why they come to church -- because they never know what's going to happen in that part of the service titled "Sermon." But teaching the Bible and spiritual formation is the place where people get to share and care and become linked with each other as the active and bonding Body of Christ. I consider Bible studies to be the engine that drives the church.
All that goes to say that I'm deeply invested in the process of teaching, which includes equal amounts of listening and informing and flying kites to attract any kind of lightning available. But I'm telling you, I didn't expect this one.
We were doing a Lenten study on Christ's journey to the cross. I tend to pick up on lightweight subjects like that during Lent: evil, suffering, spiritual disciplines... subjects that make people wonder why they came to this stupid class in the first place. We have the meetings in my home -- it invites informality. (I also know where the exits are.) This particular study's goal was to help the students visualize, hear, smell, feel, and walk with the Lord as he went from triumph to tomb. It got graphic, and confrontive, and theological all at the same time. In other words, it was working.
We got down to the Lord's role in the whole thing. We talked about victims, heroes, political showmen, self-flagellating religious freaks, and every other available heretical and orthodox role I or they could come up with. The passion doesn't let us off easy here. He's too real to fit any convenient category.
One member of the class was a fairly successful entrepreneur in his early sixties who was very much in control of his life and liked to be significant wherever he went. He needed managing in class because he tended to hold forth if given the chance. On this evening he'd gotten quiet. I should have felt the barometer falling. There was a storm building, and it suddenly burst forth from him, loudly. "This is nuts. Why do you insist on pushing this idea that Jesus was a wimp? If he acted like you say he did, he was a loser. It's like this forgiveness thing. It makes no sense. You're all a bunch of wimps...."
Those dots are a minimalist way of saying that he went on from there. Managing a class is one thing. Handling an outburst from somebody who is used to treating every circumstance competitively and winning all competitions is another.
I wanted to dismiss him. I would have loved to throw him out of the class. However, when a kite attracts lightning it's time to consider the source. I let him wind down a little and said, "You know, I think you're right." I thought he'd popped a vessel. His eyes almost fell out of his head. He said, "I am?" The room erupted. It was one of those moments that teachers live for. The discussion that followed cut through all the nice words and platitudes that pad and neaten the cross. A few people cried. One person kept saying, "Why would He do that for me?"
I really feel like the Lord stood there with us that evening. It wasn't easy or pretty or convenient or fun. But it was meaningful and powerful and cut right to the bone of our sin that refuses to see Him clearly.
I wish I could say Mr. Winner changed. He's still trapped. But it taught this teacher something. It taught me to let the Lord stand up for Himself. It let me see Him, again. It let me marvel again. It convicted me. The cross will do that, if you let it. It just stands there above all the "... wreaks of time." All we have to do is gather there at its foot. I do that every year, with all the rest of the losers. I can't think of a place I'd rather be.
C. David McKirachan is pastor of the Presbyterian Church at Shrewsbury in central New Jersey. He also teaches at Monmouth University. He is the author of I Happened Upon a Miracle and A Year of Wonder (Westminster John Knox).
Mary's Lament
by Larry Winebrenner
Mark 14:1--15:47
Had I known it would lead to that terrible Friday, I would have let my own brother Simon suffer and die from the leprosy. But how was I to know? Martha and I did love our brother so very much. As a merchant and Pharisee, he not only brought honor to our house but riches as well. Martha, who loves to cook more than ravens like to steal grain had her own pantry off the courtyard where the fire pit was located. And I had my own room!
When the white spots and nodules began to appear, he wanted to go to a colony. He was afraid of passing it on to us. We threatened to tie him up and feed him with a spoon if he tried to leave. At one time we had feasts. Pharisees and even temple authorities would visit. Martha was in seventh heaven cooking and preparing food for our guests. But as soon as our brother began being called Simon the leper, none of our old visitors came around.
When we heard that a miracle-working rabbi was going to be passing through Bethany, I paid a lad to run and tell me the moment this Jesus appeared. The boy came running one day, and I went running behind the boy. I could not get near Jesus because of the great crowd surrounding him. He had big, burly men keeping folks from crowding too closely. I knelt in his path so he would have to stop or walk right over me. A lot of good that did. One of those burly men grabbed me and lifted me to thrust me aside.
"Careful, Simon," said a calm, vibrant voice. "Let's see why she would be trampled by the crowd."
I fell on my knees before him. "Name your price to heal my brother, Rabbi," I said. "You shall have it."
"You see, Simon," he said to the man still standing over me, "you almost did us out of our evening meal."
"Lord," I said, "you can eat today and every day. Just heal my brother of his leprosy."
The man called Simon fell back, as if I myself had leprosy. "Nay, Lord," he said, "we cannot eat in a leper's house!"
"He has no leprosy," said Jesus. "His sister's faith has made him well."
"The sister herself is devil-possessed," cried a voice from the crowd.
I was as filled with rage for the man who said that as I was with desire for the man who had lifted me off the road.
"I see what he means," said Jesus, and he must have seen the fear in my eyes. "Come out of her," he commanded. I felt every emotion known to woman tearing at my innards. He took my hands, pulled me to my feet, and commanded once more, "I say, come... out... of... her."
A warmth washed over me. The rage became understanding; the desire became concern. The fear was driven out by love. I felt I would swoon.
"Go prepare dinner. We will be there shortly."
I felt I was floating, and I fled to the house.
That was the first of many meals he had with us. My brother Simon was called "God helped" by him -- Eleazar in Hebrew, Lazarus in Greek.
Later he raised my brother from the dead -- a portent of his own rising. But the raising of my brother is what spurred the temple authorities to hunt him down.
If I had it to do over, I'd let him pass through Bethany unapproached by a devil-possessed woman more concerned about her brother's leprosy than her Lord's safety and comfort. Forgive me, Lord.
The Commoner King
by Larry Winebrenner
Philippians 2:5-11
There once was a kingdom where the king became very disappointed. His messengers brought daily reports of crime so widespread that it seemed his was a kingdom of crime.
"I must go and see this for myself," he told his satraps.
"I will prepare your carriage," said his carriage driver.
"No," said the king. "If I arrived in my carriage, they would hide their crimes from me."
"I will prepare your guard," said the captain of the guard.
"No," said the king, "they would run away from the guard. I would not see how they live."
"Then I will prepare you a grand purse," said his treasurer. "You could purchase transportation, clothing, and bodyguards from among the people."
"No," said the king, "I must be a commoner like them. If I am to see how they live, I must live like them."
"If they think you are one of them, you might be slain," said his grand vizier.
"I'd rather die than see my kingdom despoiled by crime," said the king. "I will live among them and tell them how to live and show them how to be honest. I cannot do that as a king. I must do it as a common citizen such as they are."
So he took off his crown. He took off his jewelry, including the signet ring with which he sealed legal documents. He took off his rich robes, and he put on the garments of the common folk.
He walked away -- walked, not rode. He did not enter the mighty cities. He went to a small village, where he found a generous family. He stayed with them for a while, working for his keep. He talked to the villagers about the kind of kingdom he visualized. "It's the kind of kingdom the king wants," he would tell them.
Some would hear him gladly. Others would pooh-pooh his ideas or even get violent with him. He took his ideas from village to village. Finally, he entered the capital city. He went to the top officials and took them to task for their failure to lead the people in the proper way of life.
"How do you know what is the proper way of life?" they demanded.
"Because I am your king!" he declared.
"It is treason to usurp the king's title," they informed him. "You will have to die for such treason."
A messenger who recognized the king ran to him and asked, "Sire! Shall I go turn out the guard?"
"No," said the king. "I love my people. I will die to change their lives. Then you can tell the people that the king died for them."
Thus did the king who took off his kingly garb give his life for the love of his people.
Larry Winebrenner is now retired and living in Miami Gardens, Florida. He taught for 33 years at Miami-Dade Community College, and served as pastor of churches in Georgia, Florida, Indiana, and Wisconsin. Larry is currently active at First United Methodist Church in downtown Miami, where he leads discussion in an adult fellowship group on Sunday mornings and preaches occasionally. He has authored two college textbooks, written four novels, served as an editor for three newspapers and an academic journal, and contributed articles to several magazines.
Fact-Checking
by Frank Ramirez
Philippians 2:5-11
Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus...
-- Philippians 2:5
In the Roman Empire people were taught that the emperor was the son of a god, foretold from of old, the one who brought peace between the nations, and the Savior of the world. This despite the fact that one Caesar could follow another with depressing regularity as these sons of gods died and disappeared. All were required to make an annual offering to the emperor as a god and to receive a certificate, known as a libelli, to prove it.
At the same time Christians risked arrest, torture, and even death by refusing to worship the emperor, instead choosing Jesus as the Son of God, foretold from of old, the Prince of Peace and Savior of the world. Jesus had died a horrifying and degrading death at the hands of the Romans but had not disappeared. As Paul put it in his letter to the Philippians, because Jesus "did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited" (2:6), and having taken on the form of a slave and emptied himself on a cross, "God also highly exalted him and gave him the name that is above every name" (2:9).
That is why Paul told the Philippians to have the same mind as "was in Christ Jesus" (2:5) and to "work out your own salvation with fear and trembling; for it is God who is at work in you, enabling you both to will and to work for his good pleasure" (2:12-13).
So, what was it like to be a Christian in those dangerous days? Let's look at it from the Roman point of view. Pliny the Younger, governor of Bithynia from 111 to 113 AD, wrote a letter to the emperor Trajan asking for advice on how to handle the Christians. Some of his information came from former Christians who renounced their faith because of his edict and worshiped the emperor as a god. Pliny was surprised to learn from them that Christians posed no obvious threat to the empire. He wrote:
They asserted, however, that the sum and substance of their fault or error had been that they were accustomed to meet on a fixed day before dawn and sing responsively a hymn to Christ as to a god, and to bind themselves by oath, not to some crime, but not to commit fraud, theft, or adultery, not falsify their trust, nor to refuse to return a trust when called upon to do so. When this was over, it was their custom to depart and to assemble again to partake of food -- but ordinary and innocent food.
In other words, Christians were exemplary citizens, except that they recognized Jesus, and not Caesar, as Lord. Pliny was puzzled to discover that they were not guilty of any great crimes as he imagined. Christians met "to partake of food -- but food of an ordinary and innocent kind."
In addition to questioning former Christians Pliny also arrested two Christian deacons, both female, both slaves. (Christians ignored lines of gender, class, and economics.) The word "deacon" meant table waiter, the role deacons like these two had in serving communion. Think about it -- not only were women who were slaves welcome to eat at the table of the Lord, they served and administered the meal in his honor!
Since the word of a slave was inadmissible in court without torture, since to the Roman mind slaves could not be trusted, the women were tortured. They evidently told Pliny the truth of what it means to be a Christian. They sang a hymn to Christ as to a god -- perhaps the very Christ hymn we find in the letter to the Philippians as part of this Sunday's scripture readings.
They met early to share their Love Feast communion and to worship because many Christians, as slaves, had to work all seven days, even on their sabbath. But this time of worship was a joy, and their fellowship worth the risk of torture and death. That's why they had the same mind as Christ.
Frank Ramirez is a native of Southern California and has served as a pastor for nearly thirty years in Church of the Brethren congregations in Los Angeles, California; Elkhart, Indiana; and Everett, Pennsylvania. A graduate of LaVerne College and Bethany Theological Seminary, Ramirez is the author of numerous books, articles, and short stories. His CSS titles include Partners in Healing, He Took a Towel, The Bee Attitudes, and three volumes of Lectionary Worship Aids.
Doctoral Dissertation
by Larry Winebrenner
Isaiah 50.4-9a
In 1976 I was part of a group of college professors who went on a cultural exchange to Poland. Based at Jagellonian University in Krakow, our purpose was to study Polish culture and history. This included "experiences" as well as classroom study.
One experience was attending a doctoral dissertation defense. This was quite an event in the university city of Krakow -- perhaps a thousand citizens crowded into the lecture hall. The process was for the candidate to answer questions about his dissertation from a panel of professors drawn from several other institutions (not including Jagellonian University itself). Members of the audience as well as the examination board were allowed to ask questions.
Our guide told us that professors from other universities found it a delight to ask candidates questions that were very difficult to answer. The candidate we observed was under a great deal of pressure because his dissertation was on safety in coal mines. Coal mining was a principal, if not the principal, industry in Poland at the time -- and government officials had announced they were satisfied with the current safety regulations and procedures. The candidate's dissertation challenged that claim. Each of the examining board members had a copy of the dissertation and were primed with devastating questions.
The scene seemed to be set for failure. The candidate might well have understood Isaiah's plaint: "I did not turn backward. I gave my back to those who struck me, and my cheeks to those who pulled out the beard; I did not hide my face from insult and spitting" (Isaiah 50:6).
Then a man in the audience stood up. Our guide explained that the man was the president of the coal miner's union, one of the most powerful men in Poland. He asked permission to speak before the examination began. Our guide interpreted for us. He said: "I know this candidate. He spent a year in the mines, mining coal with us, eating coal grit in his lunch, breathing coal dust into his lungs, talking, laughing, questioning, and experiencing the dangers we face daily. I have his dissertation. I have read every word, and every word I have read is true. I do not know whether this man deserves to be a doctor. I do know he deserves the thanks of our miners for telling the world the truth about the need for safety in our mines."
A chorus of cheers went up from several hundred people sitting together. "Those are coal miners," our guide told us. There was a very short question and answer session followed by the shaking of hands. Our guide said, "This was the shortest defense of a doctoral dissertation in the history of education. They passed him unanimously!"
The candidate must have felt: "I have not been disgraced; therefore I have set my face like flint, and I know that I shall not be put to shame" (Isaiah 50:7).
Larry Winebrenner is a retired pastor and college teacher who lives in Miami Gardens, Florida.
What the Donkey Thought
by Larry Winebrenner
Mark 11:1-11
First United Methodist Church in Tallin, Estonia, is a thriving church today. It has not always been so.
Back in the years of World War II, the Soviet Union took over Latvia, Estonia, and Lithuania. In order to exercise more control over (and possibly to make it easier to destroy) Christian churches, they ordered all churches to form one union. The pastor of the Methodist church in Tallin recognized the ploy and refused to comply. He was told that if he didn't go along, he would be sent to a prison work camp in Siberia. He still refused, and he was sent to Siberia.
Christians were refused the right to evangelize on the streets. They were not permitted even to invite folks to attend church. They were only permitted to answer questions initiated by others. Consequently, with no pastor and with no means to win new members, the church membership began to diminish.
One reason for the reduction of members was the absence of men sent off to war. The remaining women realized they had to do something, or the Soviet ends would be met. They decided to form a drum and bugle corps. Every Sunday they would meet and open all the doors and windows. Then they would blow and pound to beat the band. When folks came in and asked, "What's going on here?" they gladly gave witness. The church grew.
After the war, when the pastor returned from Siberia, the church had a great celebration in his honor and he was asked to speak. He looked around the congregation at the large number of people there. He said, "I have but one thing to say. When I look around, I feel like the donkey Jesus rode into Jerusalem in his triumphant entry. The donkey saw the crowds. He saw the branches and clothing strewing the highway. He heard the loud hosannas. He said to himself, 'And to think they are doing all this for me.' Folks, this is not a celebration of some poor preacher. This is a celebration of the triumph of Jesus Christ our Lord!"
King on a Donkey
by Larry Winebrenner
John 12:12-16
Jethiel was a poor man. Although he was gentle and kind, life always seemed to deal harshly with him -- until the day he found Big White.
Big White was a mighty white stallion. Jethiel had just found the remains of two lambs, caught and eaten by hungry wolves. Jethiel looked nervously around him. Drought had emboldened the wolves, and they might still be around. They actually had raided the fold near Jethiel's house where the lambs should have been secure. With sling ready and his staff near at hand, Jethiel stood looking about alertly. Wolves had been known to attack even men because of the drought.
Then he heard it -- the growling, the neighing, from beyond the hillock. Jethiel was quickly atop the rise. Below was Big White, mired in a bog where he had tried to approach a water hole. Around the bog were three wolves, stalking the stallion.
As Jethiel watched, one of the wolves sprang upon Big White's back. The large horse, though its feet were deeply mired in the muck, gave a shake and arched his back as best he could. The wolf fell and struggled to right itself, sinking to its belly in the muck.
Jethiel let fly a stone, killing one of the other wolves. "I'll teach you to steal my lambs," he said, fitting another stone into the sling and letting it fly. The second wolf yelped and limped off, dragging a broken right hind leg. "You can stand there and starve," he said bitterly to the third wolf as he walked next to the bog. "I'm certainly not feeding you any more of my lambs."
He turned to Big White. "But what am I going to do with you?" he asked himself. He recognized Big White as the wild stallion admired and hated by some of the wealthy traders. Big White often raided their herds of mares. No one had ever been able to capture him, though many had tried. Now Jethiel had him... but didn't have him.
The horse was just up to its front knees and the shanks of its hind legs in the muck. Jethiel figured there was something solid that far down. He poked his staff through the muck and hit solid ground about a cubit down.
One way to rescue the horse was to build a causeway of rocks through the muck and help the stallion to mount it and walk out. That was easier said than done, Jethiel discovered. He began energetically enough, but if he wanted this animal, he was going to have to do the job himself. It took three hours for the rocks to pile high enough for the topmost rock not to sink below the surface.
At first the horse was spooked by his action. Jethiel kept talking gently to him as he worked. When close enough, Jethiel fashioned a water skin with an open top. He tied the water skin to his staff. Big White drank thirstily.
Jethiel eventually got the animal haltered and out of the bog. He tamed Big White for over a year. Then he took him into Jerusalem during a Passover celebration. People from all over the empire would be crowding the city. He should be able to sell Big White for a large sum and become wealthy.
Yes, great crowds gathered in Jerusalem, including the fabled prophet Jesus. Some of Jesus' followers came to the very inn where Jethiel had his stallion stabled. They approached a colt tied up just outside the inn.
"Here! What are you doing?" cried the donkey's owner.
"The master has need of it. It will be returned," said the disciple.
"Is your master this Jesus everyone is talking about?" asked Jethiel.
"The same," answered the disciple.
"Then he should enter the city in style. Tell him he can ride in on Big White if he likes."
Soon the disciple returned. He told Jethiel, "The Master says thank you, but warlords ride horses into cities. Prophets ride on donkeys."
So the King of kings did not enter Jerusalem on a horse. As predicted in Zechariah 9:9: "Rejoice greatly, O Daughter of Zion! Shout, Daughter of Jerusalem! See, your king comes to you, righteous and having salvation, gentle and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey."
The Orchard of Righteousness
by Larry Winebrenner
Psalm 118:1-2, 19-29
There once was a marvelous place called the Orchard of Righteousness. Everyone who entered ate of the fruit there and was satisfied. There was but one requirement -- in order to enter, a person had to find something to thank the Lord for. There was a guard at the gate. Everyone who approached was told, "O give thanks to the Lord, for the Lord is good; God's steadfast love endures forever! God's steadfast love endures forever."
The visitor would then reply, "Open to me the gates of righteousness, that I may enter through them and give thanks to the Lord."
Then the guard would say, "This is the gate of the Lord; the righteous shall enter through it."
There were always some who thought they could pretend they had something to thank God for and could use this procedure to get in and eat. They couldn't understand why others commented the fruit was so sweet while they themselves found it so bitter.
One old man had asked God why the innocent suffer. God asked, "What is wonderful in your life?" When the man told God, the Lord asked how he knew it was wonderful. The man admitted that only by comparing the wonderful with the miserable could he determine what is wonderful. Then he remembered all the catastrophes that could have befallen him, but didn't. So he worshiped God. He said, "I thank you that you have answered me and have become my salvation."
One woman's daughter lost a beauty pageant, but when the winner was unable to memorize lines in a drama, a director who had seen her and remembered her rendition of a Shakespearean passage sought her out for a starring role on Broadway. The woman said, "The stone that the builders rejected has become the chief cornerstone."
A young couple remembered their awe at seeing the Grand Canyon and declared, "This is the Lord's doing; it is marvelous in our eyes."
A patient in a hospital opened her eyes to find she was still alive after a long, complicated, and dangerous operation. She still was too weak to speak, but she thought, "This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it."
All these found the fruit in the Orchard of Righteousness very sweet.
As I said, not all came with thanksgiving in their hearts. One middle-aged couple decided all they needed was a little push from God to make their bookkeeping business flourish. They found the fruit quite bitter when what they had to say was, "Save us, we beseech you, O Lord! O Lord, we beseech you, give us success!"
Others around them reminded them, "One must always remember to say, 'You are my God, and I will give thanks to you; you are my God, I will extol you.' O give thanks to the Lord, for God is good, for God's steadfast love endures forever."
Larry Winebrenner is a retired pastor and college teacher who lives in Miami Gardens, Florida.
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StoryShare, April 5, 2009, issue.
Copyright 2009 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to the StoryShare service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons, in worship and classroom settings, in brief devotions, in radio spots, and as newsletter fillers. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 517 South Main Street, Lima, Ohio 45804.
What's Up This Week
"Holiday for Losers" by C. David McKirachan
"Mary's Lament" by Larry Winebrenner
"The Commoner King" by Larry Winebrenner
"Fact-Checking" by Frank Ramirez
"Doctoral Dissertation" by Larry Winebrenner
"What the Donkey Thought" by Larry Winebrenner
"King on a Donkey" by Larry Winebrenner
"The Orchard of Righteousness" by Larry Winebrenner
What's Up This Week
As we commemorate Jesus' journey to the cross this week, we who live in a sophisticated, modern culture need to ask ourselves: Do we really understand, on a deep-down gut level, what it means that Jesus gave up himself and died for us? If we truly get it, the only way we can possibly respond is an emotional reaction that shakes us to our very core. In this edition of StoryShare, David McKirachan shares the experience of a Bible study he taught that very nearly careened out of control -- only to provide a wonderful teaching moment that led to an extraordinary breakthrough and a deep appreciation of just what the cross means. Larry Winebrenner offers a look inside the mind of Lazarus' sister Mary, and her regrets over being more concerned about her brother than her Lord. Larry also tells a moving parable of a king who gave up everything as a gift to his people. Frank Ramirez provides a meditation with some interesting historical background to shed light on exactly what it meant for Christians to "have the same mind as Christ." Larry Winebrenner describes a most unusual defense of a doctoral dissertation he witnessed while traveling in Poland, as well as a pair of pieces on the readings for the liturgy of the Palms.
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Holiday for Losers
by C. David McKirachan
Mark 14:1--15:47
Bible studies are the bread and butter of my ministry. I love to preach, and people tell me that's why they come to church -- because they never know what's going to happen in that part of the service titled "Sermon." But teaching the Bible and spiritual formation is the place where people get to share and care and become linked with each other as the active and bonding Body of Christ. I consider Bible studies to be the engine that drives the church.
All that goes to say that I'm deeply invested in the process of teaching, which includes equal amounts of listening and informing and flying kites to attract any kind of lightning available. But I'm telling you, I didn't expect this one.
We were doing a Lenten study on Christ's journey to the cross. I tend to pick up on lightweight subjects like that during Lent: evil, suffering, spiritual disciplines... subjects that make people wonder why they came to this stupid class in the first place. We have the meetings in my home -- it invites informality. (I also know where the exits are.) This particular study's goal was to help the students visualize, hear, smell, feel, and walk with the Lord as he went from triumph to tomb. It got graphic, and confrontive, and theological all at the same time. In other words, it was working.
We got down to the Lord's role in the whole thing. We talked about victims, heroes, political showmen, self-flagellating religious freaks, and every other available heretical and orthodox role I or they could come up with. The passion doesn't let us off easy here. He's too real to fit any convenient category.
One member of the class was a fairly successful entrepreneur in his early sixties who was very much in control of his life and liked to be significant wherever he went. He needed managing in class because he tended to hold forth if given the chance. On this evening he'd gotten quiet. I should have felt the barometer falling. There was a storm building, and it suddenly burst forth from him, loudly. "This is nuts. Why do you insist on pushing this idea that Jesus was a wimp? If he acted like you say he did, he was a loser. It's like this forgiveness thing. It makes no sense. You're all a bunch of wimps...."
Those dots are a minimalist way of saying that he went on from there. Managing a class is one thing. Handling an outburst from somebody who is used to treating every circumstance competitively and winning all competitions is another.
I wanted to dismiss him. I would have loved to throw him out of the class. However, when a kite attracts lightning it's time to consider the source. I let him wind down a little and said, "You know, I think you're right." I thought he'd popped a vessel. His eyes almost fell out of his head. He said, "I am?" The room erupted. It was one of those moments that teachers live for. The discussion that followed cut through all the nice words and platitudes that pad and neaten the cross. A few people cried. One person kept saying, "Why would He do that for me?"
I really feel like the Lord stood there with us that evening. It wasn't easy or pretty or convenient or fun. But it was meaningful and powerful and cut right to the bone of our sin that refuses to see Him clearly.
I wish I could say Mr. Winner changed. He's still trapped. But it taught this teacher something. It taught me to let the Lord stand up for Himself. It let me see Him, again. It let me marvel again. It convicted me. The cross will do that, if you let it. It just stands there above all the "... wreaks of time." All we have to do is gather there at its foot. I do that every year, with all the rest of the losers. I can't think of a place I'd rather be.
C. David McKirachan is pastor of the Presbyterian Church at Shrewsbury in central New Jersey. He also teaches at Monmouth University. He is the author of I Happened Upon a Miracle and A Year of Wonder (Westminster John Knox).
Mary's Lament
by Larry Winebrenner
Mark 14:1--15:47
Had I known it would lead to that terrible Friday, I would have let my own brother Simon suffer and die from the leprosy. But how was I to know? Martha and I did love our brother so very much. As a merchant and Pharisee, he not only brought honor to our house but riches as well. Martha, who loves to cook more than ravens like to steal grain had her own pantry off the courtyard where the fire pit was located. And I had my own room!
When the white spots and nodules began to appear, he wanted to go to a colony. He was afraid of passing it on to us. We threatened to tie him up and feed him with a spoon if he tried to leave. At one time we had feasts. Pharisees and even temple authorities would visit. Martha was in seventh heaven cooking and preparing food for our guests. But as soon as our brother began being called Simon the leper, none of our old visitors came around.
When we heard that a miracle-working rabbi was going to be passing through Bethany, I paid a lad to run and tell me the moment this Jesus appeared. The boy came running one day, and I went running behind the boy. I could not get near Jesus because of the great crowd surrounding him. He had big, burly men keeping folks from crowding too closely. I knelt in his path so he would have to stop or walk right over me. A lot of good that did. One of those burly men grabbed me and lifted me to thrust me aside.
"Careful, Simon," said a calm, vibrant voice. "Let's see why she would be trampled by the crowd."
I fell on my knees before him. "Name your price to heal my brother, Rabbi," I said. "You shall have it."
"You see, Simon," he said to the man still standing over me, "you almost did us out of our evening meal."
"Lord," I said, "you can eat today and every day. Just heal my brother of his leprosy."
The man called Simon fell back, as if I myself had leprosy. "Nay, Lord," he said, "we cannot eat in a leper's house!"
"He has no leprosy," said Jesus. "His sister's faith has made him well."
"The sister herself is devil-possessed," cried a voice from the crowd.
I was as filled with rage for the man who said that as I was with desire for the man who had lifted me off the road.
"I see what he means," said Jesus, and he must have seen the fear in my eyes. "Come out of her," he commanded. I felt every emotion known to woman tearing at my innards. He took my hands, pulled me to my feet, and commanded once more, "I say, come... out... of... her."
A warmth washed over me. The rage became understanding; the desire became concern. The fear was driven out by love. I felt I would swoon.
"Go prepare dinner. We will be there shortly."
I felt I was floating, and I fled to the house.
That was the first of many meals he had with us. My brother Simon was called "God helped" by him -- Eleazar in Hebrew, Lazarus in Greek.
Later he raised my brother from the dead -- a portent of his own rising. But the raising of my brother is what spurred the temple authorities to hunt him down.
If I had it to do over, I'd let him pass through Bethany unapproached by a devil-possessed woman more concerned about her brother's leprosy than her Lord's safety and comfort. Forgive me, Lord.
The Commoner King
by Larry Winebrenner
Philippians 2:5-11
There once was a kingdom where the king became very disappointed. His messengers brought daily reports of crime so widespread that it seemed his was a kingdom of crime.
"I must go and see this for myself," he told his satraps.
"I will prepare your carriage," said his carriage driver.
"No," said the king. "If I arrived in my carriage, they would hide their crimes from me."
"I will prepare your guard," said the captain of the guard.
"No," said the king, "they would run away from the guard. I would not see how they live."
"Then I will prepare you a grand purse," said his treasurer. "You could purchase transportation, clothing, and bodyguards from among the people."
"No," said the king, "I must be a commoner like them. If I am to see how they live, I must live like them."
"If they think you are one of them, you might be slain," said his grand vizier.
"I'd rather die than see my kingdom despoiled by crime," said the king. "I will live among them and tell them how to live and show them how to be honest. I cannot do that as a king. I must do it as a common citizen such as they are."
So he took off his crown. He took off his jewelry, including the signet ring with which he sealed legal documents. He took off his rich robes, and he put on the garments of the common folk.
He walked away -- walked, not rode. He did not enter the mighty cities. He went to a small village, where he found a generous family. He stayed with them for a while, working for his keep. He talked to the villagers about the kind of kingdom he visualized. "It's the kind of kingdom the king wants," he would tell them.
Some would hear him gladly. Others would pooh-pooh his ideas or even get violent with him. He took his ideas from village to village. Finally, he entered the capital city. He went to the top officials and took them to task for their failure to lead the people in the proper way of life.
"How do you know what is the proper way of life?" they demanded.
"Because I am your king!" he declared.
"It is treason to usurp the king's title," they informed him. "You will have to die for such treason."
A messenger who recognized the king ran to him and asked, "Sire! Shall I go turn out the guard?"
"No," said the king. "I love my people. I will die to change their lives. Then you can tell the people that the king died for them."
Thus did the king who took off his kingly garb give his life for the love of his people.
Larry Winebrenner is now retired and living in Miami Gardens, Florida. He taught for 33 years at Miami-Dade Community College, and served as pastor of churches in Georgia, Florida, Indiana, and Wisconsin. Larry is currently active at First United Methodist Church in downtown Miami, where he leads discussion in an adult fellowship group on Sunday mornings and preaches occasionally. He has authored two college textbooks, written four novels, served as an editor for three newspapers and an academic journal, and contributed articles to several magazines.
Fact-Checking
by Frank Ramirez
Philippians 2:5-11
Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus...
-- Philippians 2:5
In the Roman Empire people were taught that the emperor was the son of a god, foretold from of old, the one who brought peace between the nations, and the Savior of the world. This despite the fact that one Caesar could follow another with depressing regularity as these sons of gods died and disappeared. All were required to make an annual offering to the emperor as a god and to receive a certificate, known as a libelli, to prove it.
At the same time Christians risked arrest, torture, and even death by refusing to worship the emperor, instead choosing Jesus as the Son of God, foretold from of old, the Prince of Peace and Savior of the world. Jesus had died a horrifying and degrading death at the hands of the Romans but had not disappeared. As Paul put it in his letter to the Philippians, because Jesus "did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited" (2:6), and having taken on the form of a slave and emptied himself on a cross, "God also highly exalted him and gave him the name that is above every name" (2:9).
That is why Paul told the Philippians to have the same mind as "was in Christ Jesus" (2:5) and to "work out your own salvation with fear and trembling; for it is God who is at work in you, enabling you both to will and to work for his good pleasure" (2:12-13).
So, what was it like to be a Christian in those dangerous days? Let's look at it from the Roman point of view. Pliny the Younger, governor of Bithynia from 111 to 113 AD, wrote a letter to the emperor Trajan asking for advice on how to handle the Christians. Some of his information came from former Christians who renounced their faith because of his edict and worshiped the emperor as a god. Pliny was surprised to learn from them that Christians posed no obvious threat to the empire. He wrote:
They asserted, however, that the sum and substance of their fault or error had been that they were accustomed to meet on a fixed day before dawn and sing responsively a hymn to Christ as to a god, and to bind themselves by oath, not to some crime, but not to commit fraud, theft, or adultery, not falsify their trust, nor to refuse to return a trust when called upon to do so. When this was over, it was their custom to depart and to assemble again to partake of food -- but ordinary and innocent food.
In other words, Christians were exemplary citizens, except that they recognized Jesus, and not Caesar, as Lord. Pliny was puzzled to discover that they were not guilty of any great crimes as he imagined. Christians met "to partake of food -- but food of an ordinary and innocent kind."
In addition to questioning former Christians Pliny also arrested two Christian deacons, both female, both slaves. (Christians ignored lines of gender, class, and economics.) The word "deacon" meant table waiter, the role deacons like these two had in serving communion. Think about it -- not only were women who were slaves welcome to eat at the table of the Lord, they served and administered the meal in his honor!
Since the word of a slave was inadmissible in court without torture, since to the Roman mind slaves could not be trusted, the women were tortured. They evidently told Pliny the truth of what it means to be a Christian. They sang a hymn to Christ as to a god -- perhaps the very Christ hymn we find in the letter to the Philippians as part of this Sunday's scripture readings.
They met early to share their Love Feast communion and to worship because many Christians, as slaves, had to work all seven days, even on their sabbath. But this time of worship was a joy, and their fellowship worth the risk of torture and death. That's why they had the same mind as Christ.
Frank Ramirez is a native of Southern California and has served as a pastor for nearly thirty years in Church of the Brethren congregations in Los Angeles, California; Elkhart, Indiana; and Everett, Pennsylvania. A graduate of LaVerne College and Bethany Theological Seminary, Ramirez is the author of numerous books, articles, and short stories. His CSS titles include Partners in Healing, He Took a Towel, The Bee Attitudes, and three volumes of Lectionary Worship Aids.
Doctoral Dissertation
by Larry Winebrenner
Isaiah 50.4-9a
In 1976 I was part of a group of college professors who went on a cultural exchange to Poland. Based at Jagellonian University in Krakow, our purpose was to study Polish culture and history. This included "experiences" as well as classroom study.
One experience was attending a doctoral dissertation defense. This was quite an event in the university city of Krakow -- perhaps a thousand citizens crowded into the lecture hall. The process was for the candidate to answer questions about his dissertation from a panel of professors drawn from several other institutions (not including Jagellonian University itself). Members of the audience as well as the examination board were allowed to ask questions.
Our guide told us that professors from other universities found it a delight to ask candidates questions that were very difficult to answer. The candidate we observed was under a great deal of pressure because his dissertation was on safety in coal mines. Coal mining was a principal, if not the principal, industry in Poland at the time -- and government officials had announced they were satisfied with the current safety regulations and procedures. The candidate's dissertation challenged that claim. Each of the examining board members had a copy of the dissertation and were primed with devastating questions.
The scene seemed to be set for failure. The candidate might well have understood Isaiah's plaint: "I did not turn backward. I gave my back to those who struck me, and my cheeks to those who pulled out the beard; I did not hide my face from insult and spitting" (Isaiah 50:6).
Then a man in the audience stood up. Our guide explained that the man was the president of the coal miner's union, one of the most powerful men in Poland. He asked permission to speak before the examination began. Our guide interpreted for us. He said: "I know this candidate. He spent a year in the mines, mining coal with us, eating coal grit in his lunch, breathing coal dust into his lungs, talking, laughing, questioning, and experiencing the dangers we face daily. I have his dissertation. I have read every word, and every word I have read is true. I do not know whether this man deserves to be a doctor. I do know he deserves the thanks of our miners for telling the world the truth about the need for safety in our mines."
A chorus of cheers went up from several hundred people sitting together. "Those are coal miners," our guide told us. There was a very short question and answer session followed by the shaking of hands. Our guide said, "This was the shortest defense of a doctoral dissertation in the history of education. They passed him unanimously!"
The candidate must have felt: "I have not been disgraced; therefore I have set my face like flint, and I know that I shall not be put to shame" (Isaiah 50:7).
Larry Winebrenner is a retired pastor and college teacher who lives in Miami Gardens, Florida.
What the Donkey Thought
by Larry Winebrenner
Mark 11:1-11
First United Methodist Church in Tallin, Estonia, is a thriving church today. It has not always been so.
Back in the years of World War II, the Soviet Union took over Latvia, Estonia, and Lithuania. In order to exercise more control over (and possibly to make it easier to destroy) Christian churches, they ordered all churches to form one union. The pastor of the Methodist church in Tallin recognized the ploy and refused to comply. He was told that if he didn't go along, he would be sent to a prison work camp in Siberia. He still refused, and he was sent to Siberia.
Christians were refused the right to evangelize on the streets. They were not permitted even to invite folks to attend church. They were only permitted to answer questions initiated by others. Consequently, with no pastor and with no means to win new members, the church membership began to diminish.
One reason for the reduction of members was the absence of men sent off to war. The remaining women realized they had to do something, or the Soviet ends would be met. They decided to form a drum and bugle corps. Every Sunday they would meet and open all the doors and windows. Then they would blow and pound to beat the band. When folks came in and asked, "What's going on here?" they gladly gave witness. The church grew.
After the war, when the pastor returned from Siberia, the church had a great celebration in his honor and he was asked to speak. He looked around the congregation at the large number of people there. He said, "I have but one thing to say. When I look around, I feel like the donkey Jesus rode into Jerusalem in his triumphant entry. The donkey saw the crowds. He saw the branches and clothing strewing the highway. He heard the loud hosannas. He said to himself, 'And to think they are doing all this for me.' Folks, this is not a celebration of some poor preacher. This is a celebration of the triumph of Jesus Christ our Lord!"
King on a Donkey
by Larry Winebrenner
John 12:12-16
Jethiel was a poor man. Although he was gentle and kind, life always seemed to deal harshly with him -- until the day he found Big White.
Big White was a mighty white stallion. Jethiel had just found the remains of two lambs, caught and eaten by hungry wolves. Jethiel looked nervously around him. Drought had emboldened the wolves, and they might still be around. They actually had raided the fold near Jethiel's house where the lambs should have been secure. With sling ready and his staff near at hand, Jethiel stood looking about alertly. Wolves had been known to attack even men because of the drought.
Then he heard it -- the growling, the neighing, from beyond the hillock. Jethiel was quickly atop the rise. Below was Big White, mired in a bog where he had tried to approach a water hole. Around the bog were three wolves, stalking the stallion.
As Jethiel watched, one of the wolves sprang upon Big White's back. The large horse, though its feet were deeply mired in the muck, gave a shake and arched his back as best he could. The wolf fell and struggled to right itself, sinking to its belly in the muck.
Jethiel let fly a stone, killing one of the other wolves. "I'll teach you to steal my lambs," he said, fitting another stone into the sling and letting it fly. The second wolf yelped and limped off, dragging a broken right hind leg. "You can stand there and starve," he said bitterly to the third wolf as he walked next to the bog. "I'm certainly not feeding you any more of my lambs."
He turned to Big White. "But what am I going to do with you?" he asked himself. He recognized Big White as the wild stallion admired and hated by some of the wealthy traders. Big White often raided their herds of mares. No one had ever been able to capture him, though many had tried. Now Jethiel had him... but didn't have him.
The horse was just up to its front knees and the shanks of its hind legs in the muck. Jethiel figured there was something solid that far down. He poked his staff through the muck and hit solid ground about a cubit down.
One way to rescue the horse was to build a causeway of rocks through the muck and help the stallion to mount it and walk out. That was easier said than done, Jethiel discovered. He began energetically enough, but if he wanted this animal, he was going to have to do the job himself. It took three hours for the rocks to pile high enough for the topmost rock not to sink below the surface.
At first the horse was spooked by his action. Jethiel kept talking gently to him as he worked. When close enough, Jethiel fashioned a water skin with an open top. He tied the water skin to his staff. Big White drank thirstily.
Jethiel eventually got the animal haltered and out of the bog. He tamed Big White for over a year. Then he took him into Jerusalem during a Passover celebration. People from all over the empire would be crowding the city. He should be able to sell Big White for a large sum and become wealthy.
Yes, great crowds gathered in Jerusalem, including the fabled prophet Jesus. Some of Jesus' followers came to the very inn where Jethiel had his stallion stabled. They approached a colt tied up just outside the inn.
"Here! What are you doing?" cried the donkey's owner.
"The master has need of it. It will be returned," said the disciple.
"Is your master this Jesus everyone is talking about?" asked Jethiel.
"The same," answered the disciple.
"Then he should enter the city in style. Tell him he can ride in on Big White if he likes."
Soon the disciple returned. He told Jethiel, "The Master says thank you, but warlords ride horses into cities. Prophets ride on donkeys."
So the King of kings did not enter Jerusalem on a horse. As predicted in Zechariah 9:9: "Rejoice greatly, O Daughter of Zion! Shout, Daughter of Jerusalem! See, your king comes to you, righteous and having salvation, gentle and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey."
The Orchard of Righteousness
by Larry Winebrenner
Psalm 118:1-2, 19-29
There once was a marvelous place called the Orchard of Righteousness. Everyone who entered ate of the fruit there and was satisfied. There was but one requirement -- in order to enter, a person had to find something to thank the Lord for. There was a guard at the gate. Everyone who approached was told, "O give thanks to the Lord, for the Lord is good; God's steadfast love endures forever! God's steadfast love endures forever."
The visitor would then reply, "Open to me the gates of righteousness, that I may enter through them and give thanks to the Lord."
Then the guard would say, "This is the gate of the Lord; the righteous shall enter through it."
There were always some who thought they could pretend they had something to thank God for and could use this procedure to get in and eat. They couldn't understand why others commented the fruit was so sweet while they themselves found it so bitter.
One old man had asked God why the innocent suffer. God asked, "What is wonderful in your life?" When the man told God, the Lord asked how he knew it was wonderful. The man admitted that only by comparing the wonderful with the miserable could he determine what is wonderful. Then he remembered all the catastrophes that could have befallen him, but didn't. So he worshiped God. He said, "I thank you that you have answered me and have become my salvation."
One woman's daughter lost a beauty pageant, but when the winner was unable to memorize lines in a drama, a director who had seen her and remembered her rendition of a Shakespearean passage sought her out for a starring role on Broadway. The woman said, "The stone that the builders rejected has become the chief cornerstone."
A young couple remembered their awe at seeing the Grand Canyon and declared, "This is the Lord's doing; it is marvelous in our eyes."
A patient in a hospital opened her eyes to find she was still alive after a long, complicated, and dangerous operation. She still was too weak to speak, but she thought, "This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it."
All these found the fruit in the Orchard of Righteousness very sweet.
As I said, not all came with thanksgiving in their hearts. One middle-aged couple decided all they needed was a little push from God to make their bookkeeping business flourish. They found the fruit quite bitter when what they had to say was, "Save us, we beseech you, O Lord! O Lord, we beseech you, give us success!"
Others around them reminded them, "One must always remember to say, 'You are my God, and I will give thanks to you; you are my God, I will extol you.' O give thanks to the Lord, for God is good, for God's steadfast love endures forever."
Larry Winebrenner is a retired pastor and college teacher who lives in Miami Gardens, Florida.
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StoryShare, April 5, 2009, issue.
Copyright 2009 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to the StoryShare service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons, in worship and classroom settings, in brief devotions, in radio spots, and as newsletter fillers. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 517 South Main Street, Lima, Ohio 45804.
