Sermon: Throw Me Something, Mr. God
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Sermon: Throw Me Something, Mr. God Texts: Psalm 118:1-2, 19-29; Philippians 2:5-11; Matthew 21:1-11 Date: April 17, 2011 Rev. Dee Eisenhauer, Eagle Harbor Congregational Church Sufi poet Hafiz got my juices flowing on the Palm Sunday texts with this poem: CUCUMBERS AND PRAYERS (translated by Daniel Ladinsky) All day long Such an exuberant gee, As if God were passing by in a parade encouraging I like the idea of throwing things at God, Thus, as soon as Hafiz is out of bed For the upcoming Free-for-all – “As if God were passing by in a parade…” Hmmm, what does that remind you of? For me, this Palm Sunday story of Jesus in a parade of sorts is one of the vivid points of connection I feel with his story. There are some things Jesus did I find it hard to relate to—walking on water, casting out demons, healing the blind with a spit and mud poultice—things I’ve never done or seen done. But a parade! Been there, done that; been in a parade band, been in a parade float, been in numerous parades and marches carrying banners and placards; and I’ve attended dozens if not hundreds of parades in my lifetime. (“I love a parade” must be one of my life theme songs.) I bond immediately with Jesus as I imagine him in a parade. There’s no doubt that one of the reasons I was motivated to go to New Orleans to finally participate in the disaster recovery process this spring is that Randy and Linda Crowe, longtime friends and crew organizers, asked if I would like to come a day early so I could go with them to one of the pre-Mardi Gras parades. Would I? Short of the Tournament of Roses parade and the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade (both on my bucket list), New Orleans Mardi Gras parades are the most alluring in the country, am I right? Of course I wanted to go. We attended the Krewe of Caesar parade because of its convenient timing and location, and also because the Emperor of the Krewe of Caesar this year is a member of Little Farms UCC, where we were staying during our work camp. The following day I also happily caught some of the Krewe of Barkus dog parade. I hope you’ll indulge me, then, while I reflect on the Palm Sunday story through the imaginative lens of my most recent parade experience. A few moments ago we re-enacted the palm procession with some of the ancient words spoken by faithful people who processed to the temple on a festival day and asked to be admitted through the temple gates: “Open to me the gates of righteousness, that I may enter through them and give thanks to the Lord.” The symbolic act of processing was well-established in Jesus’ day, and we’re still processing and parading all these centuries later, for lots and lots of reasons. Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem appeared to be a thoughtful, premeditated event. He probably did not have to apply for a parade permit; if he had, he would have been denied. Why? Because he was making use of a cultural and religious form—a procession to the temple—to make a statement about himself and about the Roman overlords. Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan make a powerful case that he was enacting a kind of counter-demonstration to a Roman military parade on the other side of town, which was intended to display the dominance of the occupying force. Jesus comes riding into the city on the most unmilitary of all animals—a mother donkey, perhaps with her nursing colt trotting alongside. The people who process with him, shouting praises, are honoring a different kind of power than that of the dominant culture as they join the parade with Jesus at the center. Let’s assume those who processed with Jesus were there on purpose, not just because they love a parade and thought they’d jump in. It’s really awesome to consider how many people have decided to follow Jesus from the first day of his ministry until now. I suppose those that walked with him into Jerusalem had some conviction about Jesus that led them to join the procession; but I doubt very much that even then they were all in agreement about who Jesus was or what his ministry meant. They were each looking at him through the unique lens of their own lives. Multiply that by a squillion and you have some idea of how many different perspectives there are on Jesus, and reasons for joining the ongoing procession of ministry in Jesus’ name. I’ve been musing on variety as I remember the parades I saw in New Orleans. The Krewe of Barkus—a motley batch of costumed dogs and their owners, have a united purpose—to champion care of animals—but I didn’t see any discernable divisions within the somewhat loosely organized, long procession. The church of Jesus Christ is probably more like the various Krewes who hold parades prior to Mardi Gras. Each Krewe has its own history and flavor and traditions. Each parade is divided up into subsets of the Krewe that ride on the variously themed floats. Some Krewes are more exclusive than others; some more secretive, some more bound to historic rituals, some associated with particular ethnic groups or neighborhoods. I was doing a little light research about the history of the New Orleans Krewes and learned that a few years back, the city of New Orleans passed an ordinance that required Krewes that were going to organize a parade to be racially inclusive. Several of the historic Krewes stopped parading altogether rather than adjust their membership policies. This brought to mind the number of churches in our denomination that have voted themselves out since the national UCC began promoting full fellowship and ordination of GLBT people. We humans get rather attached to our borderlines. The New Orleans Krewes have a tradition that began back in the 1870’s of throwing some kind of trinket from the parade floats. The trinkets say something about the identity of the Krewe; the doubloons (little fake coins), for instance, will have the insignia of the organization and maybe the image of the current King. One Krewe connected to the mythology of the sea king throws little plastic tridents. The Zulu Krewe, which began its parades as a parody of the high society types who wouldn’t admit African-Americans into their societies, used to throw out coconuts until they started getting sued by people claiming coconut injuries. So let’s imaginate for a moment. We’re in the UCC Krewe; we’re parading down the avenue trying to give something to the public. What do you think we might give that would symbolize something of our identity, interests, priorities? I noticed in my reading about various New Orleans Krewes that some have reputations for being more generous or more stingy in terms of their “throws.” I wondered to myself where we might come out in such a judgment. While we are a close-knit community of very generous, warm-hearted folks, we don’t exactly have a unified, consistent, easily identifiable outreach to the public, except insofar as we generously share our building, and Madelyn makes sure that we make regular forays out to hungry folk with hot food. Maybe we’re throwing out church keys, and lunch boxes! But what about the less tangible aspects of sharing what God has given us? I’m not sure we’re very comfortable with sharing the good news of the gospel with strangers. Most of us aren’t talking up theology at dinner parties—for good reason. Stephen Wilson was just telling me that he’s going a little more public with his church commitment at his workplace lately, and some of his co-workers are quite shocked, if not appalled. Plus, we’ve all heard stories of people being hurt by aggressive, fear-based evangelism, the soul equivalent of being clonked by a Zulu coconut--here-comes-the-gospel-ready-or-not! We don’t want to be associated with that Krewe. Clearly, we may pay a price for trying to pitch something to the public. But should that stop us? Doesn’t it defeat the purpose of being Church if we’re not trying to share what we have received? So, what should we be throwing? Candy hearts that are stamped with “Luv U”? Delicious rolls that symbolize the Bread of Life? Mirrors that magically reveal everyone’s beauty? Good walking shoes, with an invitation to join us on the Way? Chocolate hugs and kisses? Portraits of Jesus laughing? Handkerchiefs? Olive branches? Seeds? What do you think? I want to shift our perspective now from our group identity in the UCC Krewe to the more personal aspect of discipleship. Let’s take ourselves out of the parade float and put ourselves on the sidelines for a moment—because that’s where we all started. There is a ritual on the receiving end of the New Orleans parade throws that has been around for decades—if you’re on the sidelines, you’re supposed to holler, “Throw me something, Mister!” (Most of the people on the floats, still, are men, so it works.) I’ve been imagining being among the spectators of the original Jesus parade. The gospels tell us that the crowds were shouting, “Hosanna!” It had become an acclamation of praise, but its original meaning in Hebrew was “O save!” or “Save us!” There is a note of longing in that phrase that’s not too far removed from “throw me, something, mister!” That is, we hungry, heartbroken humans want something from God, we want something from the Holy One we see revealed in Jesus. As the Lord passes through the place where we live, the soul cries out, “Throw me something, Mr. God!” What do you think that is? What is it we long to receive from Jesus? It may not be the same thing for everyone. Let’s imaginate again, and this time think of symbols of what we are hoping Jesus will be letting fly our way. There is certainly a part of me that wants Jesus to throw a security blanket, a fuzzy blue blankie with a satin edge I can finger while trying to fall asleep after watching the 11:00 news. I would like very much to know that God will keep me safe. Or maybe a wooly, huggable teddy bear with warm brown eyes; someone to whom I can confide my troubles who listens patiently but never, ever talks back. How about a nice impervious suit of armor that will spare me from the slings and arrows of fate? Can I get a sweet cream puff of blessed assurance that will fill up this empty space inside me once and for all? I know what I need—a “Get Out of Hell Free” card that never expires. A key to the Pearly Gates. An Eternal Life Insurance Policy. “Throw me something, Mr. God!” Some of the first followers of Jesus certainly hoped he would be “throwing out” clubs and swords, metaphorically speaking. The Messiah they were looking for was a military leader who would conquer the occupying army as the first order of business. They wanted a Messiah in the mold of King David, probably—attractive, musical, brilliant, successful, prosperous, powerful, and a gifted military strategist. They had an outfit all picked out for him. In the New Orleans parades, the king of the parade wears an outfit picked out for him—a head-dress so enormous and ornate that it has to fit on a framework that holds it up because a human neck would snap trying to hold it alone. The king steps into that costume and that role that has been prepared for him. Jesus didn’t climb up onto that imperialistic pedestal that had been prepared for him by years of hopes for a liberating Messiah. God knows that the people hanker after free gifts of liberation from oppressors, protection, prosperity, assurance, avoiding death. But those gifts are not necessarily what God is intent on offering through Jesus. Jesus thwarted any number of grandiose, worldly expectations for that first generation of followers, and may still be letting down those who are hoping for a strong man Savior in our generation. It’s not that Jesus gives nothing. From Christ’s humble, simple perch grace comes flying our way, grace, grace, grace and more grace. Forgiveness, compassion, vision, joy, inspiration, courage, serenity, strength, challenge, wisdom, patience, grace, grace, grace, love abundant and overflowing. These are all free gifts from the most generous of givers, intended to give us not so much what we think we want as what God knows we need. What symbols would you imagine for such gifts? What can you picture Jesus throwing to us? A light, a brace, an anchor, a gold medal, a guidebook, bread for the journey, a walking stick, set of keys, a pair of wings? What do you think? Are we ready to receive these gifts? Will they just bounce off of us to land in the dust like so many strings of broken Mardi Gras beads? During this cumulating week of Lent we may recall the ritual act of laying down cloaks in Jesus’ pathway to honor his journey into the neighborhood, and ask ourselves what it is we might lay down to prepare the way for Christ’s journey in our lives. Our habits of mind and soul may function like straightjackets that actually keep us from being able to receive what God in Christ is offering. Are there straightjackets we find ourselves wearing that might be laid down like those cloaks of Jesus’ day as Jesus draws near? Do we need to lay down pride? Could our desire to be totally independent, to not need nuffin’ from nobody, be hampering us? How about our aching hunger for security of all sorts—is it our security blankets that need to be laid down? Do we need to lay down resentments that have covered over a compassionate heart? Are there prejudices that have blindfolded us to the beauty of others that need to be cast down? Has fear tied us in knots? Have we bound ourselves by our determination to have a quiet, pleasant life? What, for you, needs to be laid down as Christ draws near so that you might receive and share God’s gifts? Remember that as we stretch out trembling hands to receive Christ’s abundance, Jesus also invites our response. The Christian life is not all about getting what we want, not all about getting at all. It’s as if Christ is saying to each of us who has caught something of the abundant grace offered, “Now you throw me something, follower.” The genius of Christian discipleship is that it combines receiving the gifts of God with the imperative to give something of ourselves. We were created as responsive beings; we come fully alive not when we are greedily taking or even passively receiving but when we are gratefully recycling or re-directing such gracious gifts as love. Once hands and hearts are free, once we have caught something of the sparkling grace of God, how stirring it is to join Jesus’ unending procession! How thrilling to be caught up in the devoted march of our forbears in faith as the parade stretches out for many generations ahead of us! How heartening to imagine the legion of disciples behind us who will surely follow, given the wondrous way Jesus engages each new generation! But disregard for now the past and future participants in this divine parade. See yourself in this procession. In this moment, in this now that shimmers with possibility, look into the face of Jesus, gazing at you with such lively interest and love. Hold out your hand, with hopeful expectation that Christ has something of incalculable value to give you. In appreciation, why not offer up your heart, mind, and soul with a “Gee thanks!” to complete the circle of gracious giving. All day long Such an exuberant gee, As if God were passing by in a parade encouraging I like the idea of throwing things at God, Thus, as soon as Hafiz is out of bed For the upcoming Free-for-all – More love to you, O Christ; more love to you. Lead us, blessed savior, into the upcoming consecrated free-for-all with grateful and giving hearts. The Gift: Poems by Hafiz, the Great Sufi Master Translations by Daniel Ladinsky New York: Penguin Compass, 1999, p. 182
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