Something Bigger Is Going On

March 13, 2022 – Lent 2
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Philippians 3:17 - 4:1; Luke 13:31-35[1]

It’s nice to be part of something bigger than yourself. In sports, its being part of the team. In school, its being part of the musical. In business, its being part of the company. In church, its being part of the choir. Being part of something bigger than ourselves allows us to accomplish more than we could on our own. It also allows us to share the joy of success and the agony of failure. I’m more than just me, I’m one of US. We won. WE did it. We’ll get through this together.

It felt great to cheer on the U.S. Olympians. You could feel the joy, the energy of the event, and that’s something we can all take part in. That’s us out there, twirling on the ice, racing down a ski slope.

Trouble is, even when we’re part of “us”, the “me” can take over. Like it or not, our world is obsessed with status and power. It’s not a bad thing to be the best, the most powerful, the one in control. What is bad is when that status and power is used to belittle, harm, or oppress others. It is that kind of power – corrupted power, abusive power – that is challenged by a kingdom where the last will be first and the first will be last.

The Herod that the Pharisees warn Jesus about is Herod Antipas, son of Herod the Great we hear about in the Christmas narrative. The kingdom of Herod the Great was divided upon his death, and Herod Antipas inherited the territories of Galilee and Perea. Then the Romans conquered the entire region. Herod was left to rule Galilee as a client state of the Roman Empire. His hold on power was tenuous; and Herod ruled only so long as he toed the line with Rome.

Fearing any threat to his power, Herod has already had John the Baptizer beheaded. Now Jesus is travelling Galilee preaching an upside-down kingdom. Not only will the first be last, but the last – those who have been kept down, treated like dirt, and ignored – they will rise to the top. This is not good news to Herod, and he responds to this threat to his power with his own threat of death. Yet his fear for himself misses the bigger story that is unfolding.

The mission and method of Jesus are rooted in the history of the prophets of Israel. The imagery here recalls the ancient promises of God’s care for Israel, but also God’s judgment when the people fail to be faithful in their covenant. Like Isaiah and Zechariah before him, Jesus speaks of gathering the scattered children of Israel and bringing them under the protective wings of God’s love. And like the earlier prophets, the words of Jesus go unheeded: “How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!”

This lament gives us a glimpse of the true identity of Jesus, and hints at what is to come. He will continue with his work and face the danger that waits in Jerusalem with the same resolve and devotion a mother feels for her children.

I once read a story by N.T. Wright, a retired Anglican bishop, which described a fire in the hen house, and the aftermath:

Those cleaning up have found a dead hen, scorched and blackened, and live chicks sheltering under her wings. She has quite literally given her life to save them. It is a vivid and violent image of what Jesus declared he longed to do for Jerusalem and, by implication, for all Israel. But, at the moment, all he could see was chicks scurrying off in the opposite direction, taking no notice of the smoke and flames indicating the approach of danger, nor of the urgent warnings of the one who alone could give them safety.[2]

What a metaphor for God’s maternal love for everyone, even those who turn away, even those who reject and stone the prophets, even those who would kill to protect their power and privilege.

To be a prophet is to speak truth to power, to challenge those in authority when they fail to uphold their responsibilities. The kingdom Jesus proclaims is a threat to powers everywhere, to Herod of Galilee, certainly, but also to the Roman Governor of Jerusalem, and, perhaps more importantly, even the powerful in the villages. “Jesus went through one town and village after another,” (v. 22) with this message about the first and the last. Every town is a seat of power, and lives are more easily destroyed by local people than by distant policies. The people that Jesus meets one-by-one as he does his work have been hurt more by violence, shame, and exclusion committed by their neighbors than they have been hurt by the Romans. Jesus isn’t just taking on one provincial ruler.

Jesus is not just coming to overthrow this ruler or that, but to overthrow every human heart. All this stuff that seems so important: power, status, control, they mean nothing in God’s realm. What matters most is the love that we show to one another. Lent is the season of the church when we reevaluate our relationship with God and examine the ways we live that lead us toward death and destruction. This is the time to face what we fear and prepare ourselves to follow Jesus on the way to Jerusalem.

I find it curious that it’s the Pharisees who bring the warning. The Pharisees have been listening, and they know that their power is threatened as well. Why, then, would they warn Jesus of what is coming? One scholar suggests:

More than likely they have ulterior motives. Possibly they are in league with Herod and hope to drive Jesus out of Herod’s jurisdiction, into the arms of Pilate and Pilate’s responsibility. Then, like a state governor in our day passing on responsibility to federal authorities, at least Herod cannot be blamed for the results of this troublemaker’s actions. Maybe Pilate can figure out a way to get rid of Jesus altogether.[3]

In response, Jesus doesn’t hold back. He lets the Pharisees and Herod know he is not politically naïve. Listen! You tell that fox that I’m working on something bigger than he knows. I must be on my way, and your threats won’t stop me. Maybe Herod does want to kill me, but there is something bigger, something more important going on here. I won’t stop in the provinces. When I finish my work, I’m going to Jerusalem. Pilate will see me soon enough. I’m not just going down to Springfield, but all the way to Washington. And I’m fully aware of what they do to prophets there.

“Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it!” (v. 34) I almost expect the next line to call for the destruction of the city. But here Jesus turns the tables again. It’s not a hound standing up to the fox; instead, it’s a hen trying to comfort her chicks. “How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings.” You poor people with your little kingdoms, your tiny circles of power, don’t you see that you are just caught up in the storm, chirping into the wind, driven by your fear to run from the very security you seek? This life of power and control that you defend with such anxiety, this life is not what God wants for you.

As Paul writes to the church in Philippi, there is a way of life that makes you an enemy of the cross of Christ. “Their end is destruction; their god is the belly; and their glory is in their shame; their minds are set on earthly things” (v. 19). The message that Jesus brings is that things can be different. We don’t have to live this way. Life is bigger than power. Life is bigger than status. Life is bigger than fear.

We could live as if ruling one small piece of this world is all that is important. “But our citizenship is in heaven.” We belong to something bigger than what is happening in this little town, this province, this state. We are members of the commonwealth of heaven. We are the Body of Christ. We are part of something much bigger than ourselves.

We have been given gifts from God, talents, skills, and we can use them to shape this world into something better. When we use them together, we can make a remarkable difference in the lives of people here in Union, in Illinois, in the United States, and around the world. We are part of the Body of Christ, members of the household of God. We are all in this together – our friends, our neighbors, our classmates, our co-workers, and even our enemies, our homeless and hungry brothers and sisters, and all the living beings that cover the face of the globe. We may face danger, and we might have to walk the way that leads to the cross, but God waits for us on the other side, with love stronger than death.

Therefore, my brothers and sisters, stand firm in the Lord in this way, my beloved. Live according to the example we have in Christ. And when the time comes, let us say: “Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.” Amen.

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[1] The scripture quotations contained herein are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A.  Used by permission.  All rights reserved.

[2] N. T. Wright, quoted in: http://i.ucc.org/StretchYourMind/OpeningtheBible/WeeklySeeds/tabid/81/articleType/ArticleView/articleId/382/Strong-and-Tender-Feb-22-28.aspx.

[3] Rodney Clapp, “Pastoral Perspective” on Luke 13:31-35 in Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary, Year C, Vol. 2 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), p. 70.

Stronger Together

September 12, 2021
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Proverbs 1:20-23, 29-33; James3:1-6a, 9-10[1]

From the top of the towers, you could see past the narrows,
Past Our Lady of the Harbor, to the broad, open sea;
See the curve of the earth on the vast, blue horizon,
From the world's greatest city, in the land of the free.

All the brave men and women that you never would notice,
From the precincts and fire halls, were first on the scene
Storming into the buildings on the side of the angels,
They were gone in an instant in the belly of the beast.

We are children of slavery, children of immigrants
Remnants of tribes and of tired refugees.
As the walls tumble down, we are stronger together
Stronger than we ever knew we could be
Strong as that statue that stands for the promise
Of liberty here in this city of dreams.[2]

These words, written by David Wilcox shortly after 9/11, capture for me the essence of that day.

I was working in check processing for Wells Fargo Bank in downtown Denver. Shortly after the morning shift started, our manager called us all together to break the news. We were assured that upper management was monitoring the situation, our building – one of the tallest in Denver – was not a likely target, and we were to continue working the full shift. I remember watching footage of the second plane and the collapse of the towers on a computer in the manager’s office and, with a ball of ice in my stomach, thinking “we’re going to nuke somebody.” It was a strange and lonely bus ride home that day.

You each have your own memories of that day. You may have known someone working in the towers, in the Pentagon, or even on Flight 93. Today we honor the nearly 3,000 people who died on September 11, 2001, and even more who lost their lives in service to our country in the twenty years since. What stands out for me, what fills me with hope from the days and years following those events, is the courage shown by those who, when terrible things happen, seek to help.

Fred Rodgers offered this advice to children, said by his mother when something awful was in the news: “Look for the helpers.” That advice, meant to help young people process tragedy, can be a call to adults to be the helpers.

In his address the evening of September 11, then-President George W. Bush framed it this way: “Today, our nation saw evil -- the very worst of human nature -- and we responded with the best of America. With the daring of our rescue workers, with the caring for strangers and neighbors who came to give blood and help in any way they could.”[3] The best of human nature is in our desire to help others, to offer care and compassion, to save and to serve.

Another former President, Barack Obama, remembers it this way: “America has always been home to heroes who run towards danger in order to do what is right.” He wrote these words yesterday:

For Michelle and me, the enduring image of that day is not simply falling towers or smoldering wreckage. It’s the firefighters running up the stairs as others were running down. The passengers deciding to storm a cockpit, knowing it could be their final act. The volunteers showing up at recruiters’ offices across the country in the days that followed, willing to put their lives on the line.[4]

It's not just Americans, either. I recall in the days following 9/11 seeing photos of embassies all around the world piled high with flowers, candles, and handwritten prayers and notes of solidarity. The Rev. John Thomas, then General Minister and President of the United Church of Christ, was in Germany meeting church partners in Europe. In a reflection written last month, Thomas recalls: “From the members of the news media who invited us to their studio to watch the unfolding events, from those who joined in the vigils and memorial services we attended, and from the hundreds of young people who gathered in central Berlin that night to sing, we experienced a global solidarity the world desperately needs today.”[5]

That solidarity, that desire to help, was soon overpowered by desire for revenge, the demand for a response that would show the strength and power of the United States. Twenty years on we have only now ended our longest war, our unity is frayed, and we are facing new threats to our society with division and hostility.

When interviewed in Germany twenty years ago, Rev. Thomas said, “The violence so many in the world experience on a daily basis has now come to the United States. I hope that our response is to be drawn into a deeper sympathy and solidarity with the vulnerable ones around the world, that we will not retaliate by simply inflicting our own violence on others.”[6] Sadly, we have in many ways turned away from sympathy and solidarity. We have too often turned away from the gospel.

When our Muslim, Sikh, Arab, Indian, and Pakistani neighbors are attacked because they look like the twenty men who took over the planes that day, that is not the gospel. When people in the store are speaking Spanish, Chinese, Hindi, or Arabic are told “this is America; speak English” or “go back where you came from,” that is not the gospel. When people in our communities who are lesbian, gay, bisexual, or transgender are blamed for offending God or destroying families, that is not the gospel. “The tongue is a fire. With it we bless the Lord, and with it we curse those who are made in the likeness of God” (James 3:6a, 9).

God is love. God loves everyone. That is the gospel. Jesus said, “Love one another” (John 13:34). That is the gospel. It is not too late for us to turn back to love, to community, to recognize that we are all in this together. It is not too late for us to remember that we are stronger together, if we listen when wisdom cries out in the street.

Today, as we face another wave of coronavirus infections, the helpers are still there. Doctors and nurses are exhausted, but they are still doing what they can to save lives. Soldiers, some of whom weren’t yet born 20 years ago, stayed in Afghanistan as long as they could to save Americans and help refugees find a better life. Firefighters are battling forest fires in the west, and first responders are defying flood waters in Louisiana, New Jersey, and New York to bring families to safety. The best of human nature is still within us, and that is what can and should bring us together.

On this 20^th anniversary of 9/11, let us consider how we can still reach across barriers and find common cause with those who, in the words of Paul’s letter to the Ephesians, seek to “break down the dividing wall of hostility” (Ephesians 2:14). Let us undertake the journey that leads to a new understanding of how we live in peace as a human, global community. Let us find our unity again, not only as Americans, not only as Christians, but as one human family.

The leadership of our denomination, the Elected Officers of the United Church of Christ, have this challenge for the Church:

We… call for and invite a turning towards the ways that make for peace between all peoples. Let us unlearn the ways of war. Let us no longer cultivate fear for the purchase of political power. Let us be eager to know both the conditions that make for suffering, and the requisite empathy needed to alleviate it. …We embrace the hope that people of faith will unite in a common love for all. That love is the only pathway we see to the vision we have of a just world for all.[7]

In conclusion, I offer these words of prayer written by The Rev. Ann Kansfield, a UCC minister and New York City Fire Department chaplain, for a remembrance of 9/11 yesterday:

We pray for the fallen. They are the ones we love so dearly and miss so deeply. We have entrusted them to you and ask you to continue to embrace them in your love. We don’t really have to tell you, God, since you already know. But we’ll say it again: the ones who have died and whom we entrust to your care are some of the best people — wise, brave, compassionate, joyful, whip-smart and really humorous. They are family, friends, neighbors, and colleagues. They are your beloved children.

We also pray for the crestfallen. This day marks a time of so much sadness and grief for so many. We ask for your care and comfort for the living. Remind us again and again that you are with us and you always have been.[8]

Amen.

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[1] The scripture quotations contained herein are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A.  Used by permission.  All rights reserved.

[2] “City of Dreams” by David Wilcox and Pierce Pettis on Into the Mystery © 2003 BMG Rights Management, Soroka Music Ltd.

[3] George W. Bush, “9/11 Address to the Nation” delivered September 11, 2001. https://www.americanrhetoric.com/speeches/gwbush911addresstothenation.htm.

[4] Barack H. Obama, posted on Facebook September 11, 2021. https://www.facebook.com/barackobama/posts/10158872265961749.

[5] John H. Thomas, “Are We Still of Any Use? Reflections on September, 2001 After Twenty Years,” August, 2021.

[6] Ibid.

[7] The Rev. Dr. John C. Dorhauer, General Minister and President; The Rev. Traci Blackmon, Associate General Minister, Justice and Local Church Ministries; and The Rev. Dr. Karen Georgia Thompson, Associate General Minister, Wider Church Ministries and Operations; Co-Executive, Global Ministries; “UCC officers pray for healing, understanding, unity in love on 9/11 anniversary” September 7, 2021. https://www.ucc.org/ucc-officers-pray-for-healing-understanding-unity-in-love-on-9-11-anniversary/.

[8] The Rev. Ann Kansfield, FDNY Chaplain, “A Prayer for the Fallen” September 11, 2021. https://www.uccfiles.com/pdf/APrayerfortheFallen-AnnKansfield.pdf.