Study Format:
1. Read passage aloud. What did you notice in the reading? What words or phrase caught your attention?
2. Read passage aloud a second time. What questions would you ask the text?
3. Read passage aloud a third time. What do you hear God calling you to do or be in response to this text?
Interesting Ideas to Consider:
• You’ll notice in your Bible that the 16th chapter of Mark has 20 verses. After today’s section, you may see brackets around 16:8b and the title “The Shorter Ending of Mark” and around 16:9-20 and the title “The Longer Ending of Mark.” Jesus’ predictions of his death in 8:31; 9:31; and 10:34 have all prepared us the reader to expect Jesus’ resurrection. These two sections are bracketed because they do not appear in the oldest manuscripts, leading scholars to believe that they were not in the original version. Instead, scholars believe scribes added these various endings in an attempt to clear up the seeming ambiguity of how Mark’s Gospel ends, with the women saying “nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.”
• The women’s fear and silence is a repeat of the denial and flight of the disciples during Jesus’ crucifixion. Also, fear at the sight of an angel is the generally appropriate response, it’s why angels always start their remarks “do not be afraid” (Luke 1:29-30). Normally, the fear subsides with the angel’s encouragement. And we know that the disciples did eventually proclaim the Gospel, since the story was told.
• Based on Jesus’ conversation with the Sadducees in 12:8-27 and the presence of Moses and Elijah at the transfiguration (9:4), in Mark’s Gospel, “resurrection” means that the person is not dead but with God in heavenly glory. It is not the same as return to bodily existence, as in the case of Jairus’s daughter (5:43).
• In Mark’s Gospel, fear is generally a demonstration of a lack of faith. For example, their fear during the storms (4:40-41; 6:50-52). This fear isolates those who experience it and keep them away from Jesus.
• The scene opens by linking to the previous section in the time (“the day of Preparation” (15:42) and “When the Sabbath was over” (16:1)) and the people present (“Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of Joses” (15:47) and “Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of James, and Salome” (16:1)). The phrase “early in the morning” connects it to the early morning meeting with Pilate (15:1) and helps emphasize the “third day”.
• The women’s concern with the stone (v. 3) reminds the reader that they witnessed it being rolled in front of the entrance (15:46b).
• The concrete identification of Jesus in v. 6 serves to answer any question that the women may have gone to the wrong tomb.
Works Sourced:
Perkins, Pheme. “The Gospel of Mark.” The New Interpreter’s Bible Volume VIII. Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 1995.
The extraordinary can look so ordinary
Friday, March 30, 2018
Monday, March 26, 2018
The Same: A Palm Sunday Sermon on Mark 11:1-11; 15:1-39
Every year as we’re planning for today, the question comes up, are we celebrating Palm Sunday or Passion Sunday? Can we focus on the palms, the loud processions, the shouts of “Hosanna to the Son of David” and “Blessed is the One who Comes in the Name of the Lord”? Or, are you going to try and cram the entire passion reading into the Gospel section, which, the common argument goes, is super long and no one can really follow all of it anyway?
I get the question every year, but for me it’s not really a choice. For me, the weird shift in tone of immediately following up the Palm Sunday procession with the passion narrative, as jarring and tense as it feels, sets the tone for what this day, and this week, is all about. Today we, like the crowd traveling with Jesus in the reading from the procession of the palms, stand outside the gates of our most holy place, about to enter in. And like how the crowd ended their procession at the Temple, we too will finish this week at the center of our faith, at the cross. But while the crowd only had Jesus’ seemingly far-fetched predictions of the destruction of both the Temple and his life, we have the gift of hind-sight to know how it all turns out, to know that the end of this journey, the center of our faith, is the uncomfortably unbelievable assertion that the salvation of the world lay in the death of a man on a lonely hill at the hands of the most powerful empire in the world.
It feels important to me every year on this day to remind you that Holy Week is not about remembering the past, but about the promise that God is making to us right now in the present. In Holy Week, we are not Civil War re-enactors, recreating an event from long ago; we are disciples living out what it means to be people of God today.
If feels important to me to say that every year, but this year as I was working through the passion story in Mark in preparation for this morning, the truth of this statement, that Holy Week is not past but current, struck me even more strongly. Because as I read into the Passion according to Mark, the similarities to current events filled me both with terrible fear and incredible hope. Fear, because the time Mark is addressing, both his own and that of Jesus, were not known as periods of safety and security. During Jesus’ life, Jerusalem was a tinder-keg, with tensions between the religious elites, the Roman invaders, and the oppressed commoners ready to explode into chaos at the slightest spark. The Gospel of Mark was written immediately after the inevitable explosion, when the Temple was destroyed in a battle so violent that Josephus described blood running through the streets of Jerusalem.
Recognizing the similarities filled me with fear, but it also filled me with hope. Because in the end, the point of the passion story is that love wins. The point of the passion story is that through the whole mess of humanity’s creating, God still leads this seemingly impossible journey through death to life. And if that promise became reality during a time so fraught with terror and violence as the Roman occupation of first century Palestine, how much more true must it be today. So what I want to do with this sermon is talk through some of the similarities I found in the passion. And as you hear them, and as they bring up other experiences, similarities, and fears in you, I invite you to lean in to the discomfort. Lean in to whatever this story awakes in you. Lean in to your fears, to your hurts, to your longings. But also, lean in to the hope. Lean in to the promise that as often as we screw this thing up, God is still in control. Lean in to the promise that life follows death, that light drives out darkness, and that the curtain of the Temple is continually being torn in two, because God will not be separated from God’s people. This week we walk not in the past, but into our future. So let us start, as the crowd did, outside the city.
After a year of journeying, in the palm procession Gospel, Jesus and the great crowd of his followers finally reached the gates of Jerusalem. There Jesus commanded his disciples to find a colt that had never been ridden and bring it back. If anyone asked what they were doing, they were instructed to reply, “The Lord needs it and,” weirdly, “will send it back here immediately.” Why is that second part weird? It’s weird because every single part of this description, the gathered crowds, the riding in on a horse, the spreading of cloaks and branches, the loud shouts of “Hosanna” and “Blessed is the coming kingdom,” every single part of this echoes the parade of a conquering Roman war hero entering his vanquished city. Mark’s audience had certainly seen the triumphal entry of the Emperor Vespasian after the fall of Jerusalem. They would have heard the shouts of “Hosanna” or “Save us” and “Blessed is Caesar, the son of god.” Mark’s audience knew what a military parade looked like, and Mark’s description of Jesus’ triumphal procession is a mockery of one. That precedent was set right from the beginning, when the disciples were instructed to return the colt. Because Roman soldiers commandeered things, horses, beasts of burden, and even people could be constricted into the service of the Emperor. But while Jesus took a colt, he also promised to return it; this triumphant procession is not conquest by force.
Then there’s the animal itself. It is not a war horse, a stallion fit for battle. It’s a colt, a baby, who has never been ridden. Put aside for a minute the impracticality of trying to ride an unbroken horse, and just imagine the image itself. Jesus’ choice of steed is more likely to bring cries of “how cute” than the might, power, and fear such a scene should portray. The kingdom Jesus is bringing reigns in very different ways.
So we jump forward to the passion, and it feels jarring because it is. Palm/Passion Sunday reminds us of the fickleness of crowds. We’d all like to believe that we would have been different, that we would not have fallen away, but honestly the psychology of mob mentality says more than likely we would have responded just like the crowd. More than likely, we too would have shifted from cheering to jeers. Or at the very least, like the disciples, would have drifted away to obscurity. In a few weeks, we’ll hear Jesus describe us as sheep, and sheep are very good at following, but they are not very good at discerning who to follow. So too, unfortunately but truthfully, is the nature of crowds.
We entered the passion story this morning as the religious leaders decided to hand Jesus over to Pilate. Mark seems to paint Pilate in a positive light, concerned about Jesus’ innocence, but himself captive to the crowds and the religious leadership’s desire to see Jesus dead. Such reading has allowed this story to be used for centuries to justify persecution of the Jews, who sought the death of Jesus. Mark’s Jewish audience would have made no such assumptions. They knew what historical audiences do not, that Jesus’ death, while having cosmic effects, was local not global, the result of local power struggles, the jealousies and jostling between various groups and bodies as they try to assert themselves as the dominant force. It would be nice to think we’ve matured from such struggles, we have not. I heard an interview this week with a legislator who, after going on about how there ought to be a ban on all special councils, recommended the solution was to create a special council to investigate the special council. The fact that the government now shuts itself down on a regular basis demonstrates to me that we’ve only gotten more sophisticated in our various machinations for power.
As part of the trial, Pilate offered up Barabbas in exchange for Jesus. The irony is thick, Barabbas is in prison for the very crime of which Jesus is accused, inciting the people to riot. But the crowd, already riled up by the accusations of their leadership, show another dangerous aspect of the game of power politics, people lose their ability to distinguish the guilty from the innocent, the truly frightening from those we are told to fear. We may not know, or even care, who the real dangerous people are. There are a million examples I could make here; I’ll let you fill in the blank.
As Jesus hung on the cross, he was mocked by all. First those who passed by, then the Sanhedrin, the Roman soldiers, and even those crucified with him. Until he was eventually abandoned by even his closest followers. Because if the Barabbas trick doesn’t work, and we are not fooled by the slight of hand to disguise the guilty from the innocent, the next move is to depersonalize the victim, so the violence seems more normal. In The Cross and the Lynching Tree, James Cone makes the argument that this trick permitted the lynching of African Americans in the south for years. If the person is not a person, then the evil can be justified.
It was right about here that I texted my best friend, “I don’t know what to do with the passion story this year. It feels too true, too real, too current. Two-thousand years later, how can this still be our truth?”
And then I read on, “when it was noon, darkness came over the land until about three… [and] Jesus cried out a loud voice, ‘my God, my God, why have you forsaken me.’” This is the opening line from Psalm twenty-two, a psalm that ends in praise, confident in the promise that God is with us, even when things feel at their darkest, “For dominion belongs to the Lord.”
“Then [he] breathed his last. And the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom.” The curtain, which set apart the Holy of Holies from the rest of the congregation, which represented the veil between heaven and earth, which held together the life of the Temple, that curtain was not just opened but was ripped apart, like the skies themselves were torn apart as Jesus came out of the water at his baptism, and the Spirit of God rushed into the world. And “the centurion who stood facing him” echoed the words that the voice from heaven had spoken at his baptism and again at the transfiguration, ‘Truly this man was God’s Son!’”
This is the promise of Holy Week, that just as we are the same, just as we are as fickle and power hungry and violent as ever, so too is God the same as ever. The God who ripped apart heaven, who spoke from the skies, and who died on a cross, that same God is still doing those things here and now. In the breaking of the bread and the passing of the cup, we see Christ broken and poured out for all. For all. Christ comes to us, we who are fickle and power hungry, grumpy and violent, not caring if we earn it or whether we deserve it, but to this broken world, to our broken time, Christ comes. To be Christian is learn to see God at work in the midst of this broken world, not in our short-sighted struggles for power, but humble and patient on the back of a colt. This is the good news of Easter, as true today as it was two-thousand years ago, Jesus is standing at the gates of the city, and he will not rest until he has reached the center, of the Temple, of the world, of our lives, to rip down whatever is holding us captive so God can break in. Thanks be to God. Amen.
I get the question every year, but for me it’s not really a choice. For me, the weird shift in tone of immediately following up the Palm Sunday procession with the passion narrative, as jarring and tense as it feels, sets the tone for what this day, and this week, is all about. Today we, like the crowd traveling with Jesus in the reading from the procession of the palms, stand outside the gates of our most holy place, about to enter in. And like how the crowd ended their procession at the Temple, we too will finish this week at the center of our faith, at the cross. But while the crowd only had Jesus’ seemingly far-fetched predictions of the destruction of both the Temple and his life, we have the gift of hind-sight to know how it all turns out, to know that the end of this journey, the center of our faith, is the uncomfortably unbelievable assertion that the salvation of the world lay in the death of a man on a lonely hill at the hands of the most powerful empire in the world.
It feels important to me every year on this day to remind you that Holy Week is not about remembering the past, but about the promise that God is making to us right now in the present. In Holy Week, we are not Civil War re-enactors, recreating an event from long ago; we are disciples living out what it means to be people of God today.
If feels important to me to say that every year, but this year as I was working through the passion story in Mark in preparation for this morning, the truth of this statement, that Holy Week is not past but current, struck me even more strongly. Because as I read into the Passion according to Mark, the similarities to current events filled me both with terrible fear and incredible hope. Fear, because the time Mark is addressing, both his own and that of Jesus, were not known as periods of safety and security. During Jesus’ life, Jerusalem was a tinder-keg, with tensions between the religious elites, the Roman invaders, and the oppressed commoners ready to explode into chaos at the slightest spark. The Gospel of Mark was written immediately after the inevitable explosion, when the Temple was destroyed in a battle so violent that Josephus described blood running through the streets of Jerusalem.
Recognizing the similarities filled me with fear, but it also filled me with hope. Because in the end, the point of the passion story is that love wins. The point of the passion story is that through the whole mess of humanity’s creating, God still leads this seemingly impossible journey through death to life. And if that promise became reality during a time so fraught with terror and violence as the Roman occupation of first century Palestine, how much more true must it be today. So what I want to do with this sermon is talk through some of the similarities I found in the passion. And as you hear them, and as they bring up other experiences, similarities, and fears in you, I invite you to lean in to the discomfort. Lean in to whatever this story awakes in you. Lean in to your fears, to your hurts, to your longings. But also, lean in to the hope. Lean in to the promise that as often as we screw this thing up, God is still in control. Lean in to the promise that life follows death, that light drives out darkness, and that the curtain of the Temple is continually being torn in two, because God will not be separated from God’s people. This week we walk not in the past, but into our future. So let us start, as the crowd did, outside the city.
After a year of journeying, in the palm procession Gospel, Jesus and the great crowd of his followers finally reached the gates of Jerusalem. There Jesus commanded his disciples to find a colt that had never been ridden and bring it back. If anyone asked what they were doing, they were instructed to reply, “The Lord needs it and,” weirdly, “will send it back here immediately.” Why is that second part weird? It’s weird because every single part of this description, the gathered crowds, the riding in on a horse, the spreading of cloaks and branches, the loud shouts of “Hosanna” and “Blessed is the coming kingdom,” every single part of this echoes the parade of a conquering Roman war hero entering his vanquished city. Mark’s audience had certainly seen the triumphal entry of the Emperor Vespasian after the fall of Jerusalem. They would have heard the shouts of “Hosanna” or “Save us” and “Blessed is Caesar, the son of god.” Mark’s audience knew what a military parade looked like, and Mark’s description of Jesus’ triumphal procession is a mockery of one. That precedent was set right from the beginning, when the disciples were instructed to return the colt. Because Roman soldiers commandeered things, horses, beasts of burden, and even people could be constricted into the service of the Emperor. But while Jesus took a colt, he also promised to return it; this triumphant procession is not conquest by force.
Then there’s the animal itself. It is not a war horse, a stallion fit for battle. It’s a colt, a baby, who has never been ridden. Put aside for a minute the impracticality of trying to ride an unbroken horse, and just imagine the image itself. Jesus’ choice of steed is more likely to bring cries of “how cute” than the might, power, and fear such a scene should portray. The kingdom Jesus is bringing reigns in very different ways.
So we jump forward to the passion, and it feels jarring because it is. Palm/Passion Sunday reminds us of the fickleness of crowds. We’d all like to believe that we would have been different, that we would not have fallen away, but honestly the psychology of mob mentality says more than likely we would have responded just like the crowd. More than likely, we too would have shifted from cheering to jeers. Or at the very least, like the disciples, would have drifted away to obscurity. In a few weeks, we’ll hear Jesus describe us as sheep, and sheep are very good at following, but they are not very good at discerning who to follow. So too, unfortunately but truthfully, is the nature of crowds.
We entered the passion story this morning as the religious leaders decided to hand Jesus over to Pilate. Mark seems to paint Pilate in a positive light, concerned about Jesus’ innocence, but himself captive to the crowds and the religious leadership’s desire to see Jesus dead. Such reading has allowed this story to be used for centuries to justify persecution of the Jews, who sought the death of Jesus. Mark’s Jewish audience would have made no such assumptions. They knew what historical audiences do not, that Jesus’ death, while having cosmic effects, was local not global, the result of local power struggles, the jealousies and jostling between various groups and bodies as they try to assert themselves as the dominant force. It would be nice to think we’ve matured from such struggles, we have not. I heard an interview this week with a legislator who, after going on about how there ought to be a ban on all special councils, recommended the solution was to create a special council to investigate the special council. The fact that the government now shuts itself down on a regular basis demonstrates to me that we’ve only gotten more sophisticated in our various machinations for power.
As part of the trial, Pilate offered up Barabbas in exchange for Jesus. The irony is thick, Barabbas is in prison for the very crime of which Jesus is accused, inciting the people to riot. But the crowd, already riled up by the accusations of their leadership, show another dangerous aspect of the game of power politics, people lose their ability to distinguish the guilty from the innocent, the truly frightening from those we are told to fear. We may not know, or even care, who the real dangerous people are. There are a million examples I could make here; I’ll let you fill in the blank.
As Jesus hung on the cross, he was mocked by all. First those who passed by, then the Sanhedrin, the Roman soldiers, and even those crucified with him. Until he was eventually abandoned by even his closest followers. Because if the Barabbas trick doesn’t work, and we are not fooled by the slight of hand to disguise the guilty from the innocent, the next move is to depersonalize the victim, so the violence seems more normal. In The Cross and the Lynching Tree, James Cone makes the argument that this trick permitted the lynching of African Americans in the south for years. If the person is not a person, then the evil can be justified.
It was right about here that I texted my best friend, “I don’t know what to do with the passion story this year. It feels too true, too real, too current. Two-thousand years later, how can this still be our truth?”
And then I read on, “when it was noon, darkness came over the land until about three… [and] Jesus cried out a loud voice, ‘my God, my God, why have you forsaken me.’” This is the opening line from Psalm twenty-two, a psalm that ends in praise, confident in the promise that God is with us, even when things feel at their darkest, “For dominion belongs to the Lord.”
“Then [he] breathed his last. And the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom.” The curtain, which set apart the Holy of Holies from the rest of the congregation, which represented the veil between heaven and earth, which held together the life of the Temple, that curtain was not just opened but was ripped apart, like the skies themselves were torn apart as Jesus came out of the water at his baptism, and the Spirit of God rushed into the world. And “the centurion who stood facing him” echoed the words that the voice from heaven had spoken at his baptism and again at the transfiguration, ‘Truly this man was God’s Son!’”
This is the promise of Holy Week, that just as we are the same, just as we are as fickle and power hungry and violent as ever, so too is God the same as ever. The God who ripped apart heaven, who spoke from the skies, and who died on a cross, that same God is still doing those things here and now. In the breaking of the bread and the passing of the cup, we see Christ broken and poured out for all. For all. Christ comes to us, we who are fickle and power hungry, grumpy and violent, not caring if we earn it or whether we deserve it, but to this broken world, to our broken time, Christ comes. To be Christian is learn to see God at work in the midst of this broken world, not in our short-sighted struggles for power, but humble and patient on the back of a colt. This is the good news of Easter, as true today as it was two-thousand years ago, Jesus is standing at the gates of the city, and he will not rest until he has reached the center, of the Temple, of the world, of our lives, to rip down whatever is holding us captive so God can break in. Thanks be to God. Amen.
Conversation Points for Mark 11:1-11; 15:1-39
Study Format:
1. Read passage aloud. What did you notice in the reading? What words or phrase caught your attention?
2. Read passage aloud a second time. What questions would you ask the text?
3. Read passage aloud a third time. What do you hear God calling you to do or be in response to this text?
Interesting Ideas to Consider:
Mark 11:1-11
• The Temple is the symbolic center of the section beginning with the triumphal entry into Jerusalem. Jesus entered the city, ending at the Temple, and on the next day he will cleanse the Temple (11:15). Later in this section, Jesus makes various predictions about the destruction of the Temple. The result of this focus makes clear the nature of the struggle between Jesus and his opponents is a religious one. The new temple will be “housed” within the new community that Jesus is creating.
• Jesus’ promise to return the colt in v. 3, set Jesus apart from the Roman soldiers who regularly confiscated animals and human labor.
• Coming across the predicted colt represented a common folklore technique in which a sign is described including details of a particular encounter.
• In Matthew, this story includes the confusing detail from Zechariah 9:9 that the victorious king will come “humble, and mounted on a donkey, and on a colt, the foal of a donkey,” leading to Jesus being described as riding on the backs of two animals. Mark’s reference that the animal was “unbroken” may be a nod to Zechariah.
• Spreading cloaks on the ground before a king is a reference to Jehu’s accession to the throne in 2 Kings 9:13 (“Then hurriedly they all took their cloaks and spread them for him on the bare steps; and they blew the trumpet, and proclaimed, ‘Jehu is king.’”)
• While we wave palms on Palm Sunday to celebrate Jesus’ triumphal entry, the palms appear in John’s Gospel, not Mark’s. The tradition of waving palms probably came from the use of branches during the Feast of Tabernacles (Leviticus 23:39-43) or in the celebration of Hanukkah (2 Maccabees 10:7).
• The crowd’s shouts in v. 9-10 are a combination of two pilgrimage psalms (118:26a “Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the LORD” and 148:1 “Praise the LORD! Praise the LORD from the heavens; praise him in the heights!”). Psalm 118 was traditionally recited following the third cup of wine. An echo of this tradition is seen in the Last Supper narrative, where Jesus and the disciples sang a hymn before going to the Mount of Olives (Mark 14:26).
Mark 15:1-39
• Pontius Pilate was a Roman prefect (a governor with administrative authority conferred by the Roman Emperor). Prefects began controlling Judea in 6 CE after the removal of Herod the Great’s son. A prefect ruled under an imperium from Caesar which included the right to pass death sentences. As prefect, Pilate would have been used to dealing with Caiaphas and other members of the Jewish elite, and would have been unlikely to bother with investigating cases as seemingly unimportant as Jesus’, accepting instead the judgment of the Jewish religious elite.
• Pilate has not been described as having much sympathy for the Jewish people whom he governed. In one example, when his troops brought the Roman standards (flags) into Jerusalem, in violation of Jewish law, crowds gathered at his palace and stayed for five days. They only disbursed after the standards were removed, which happened after the Jews, when threatened by the troops, indicated they would be slaughtered instead of abandon their cause. In another example, Pilate took money from the Temple treasury to pay for an aqueduct and when the crowd rioted, Pilate sent disguised troops into the crowd to beat the rioters with clubs, wounding and killing many. Given this, it seems like Mark’s suggestion that Pilate considered Jesus innocent may have been overly positive. He probably would have demonstrated more contempt than concern.
• The charge against Jesus was that he claimed he was the “king of the Jews.” From Pilate’s perspective, he probably wouldn’t have cared. Technically, since the death of Herod the Great, the Jews had no king. Anytime the Romans installed one of Herod’s sons, they deliberately did not give them the title of “king.”
• Jesus accepted the titles of “Messiah” and “Son of God,” both of which would be designations for someone claiming to restore the Davidic kingship.
• Continuing the pattern started with the Sanhedrin earlier, Jesus refused to answer the false accusations made against him, evoking the suffering servant in Isaiah 38:13-15 and 53:7 (“He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth; like a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth”). Jesus’ silence makes Pilate’s presumption of innocence even less likely, since those who usually spoke for the Jewish community named him guilty.
• Barabbas was guilty of inciting the same type of religious violence Jesus was accused of inciting. Per ancient historians Josephus and Tacitus, bandits like Barabbas weakened the Jewish aristocracy, leading to the eventual downfall of Jerusalem. By freeing Barabbas, Mark is implying the Jewish leaders contributed to their own destruction.
• For centuries, the idea that Jews were responsible for the death of Jesus has fueled anti-Semitic violence. Mark’s readers would have recognized the death of Jesus as a result of local power struggles. The real responsibility belongs to those who participate in deceit and power struggles at the expense of the innocent, a crime not restricted to the time of Jesus. The mocking by the Roman soldiers shows how depersonalizing the victim increases the violence in society (James Cone’s The Cross and the Lynching Tree makes the connection with the depersonalization of African Americans allowing for wide-spread lynching and other violent actions). The release of Barabbas shows how power politics can keep people from being able to recognize the guilty from the innocent.
• The specific reference to Simon the Cyrene probably served to provide a credible witness to the crucifixion since all Jesus’ disciples had fled.
• Contrary to popular imagery of Jesus carrying the whole cross, those sentenced to crucifixion generally only carried the cross bar. So should we understand Simon’s carrying the cross as a sign of the great suffering and abuse Jesus endured before the crucifixion leaving him too weak, or a sign of honor?
• Wine mixed with myrrh was a common narcotic (Proverbs 3:16 “Give strong drink to one who is perishing, and wine to those in bitter distress”). Jesus’ refusal to drink it implies that he was fully conscious throughout the whole crucifixion, in contrast to his disciples who fell asleep.
• The soldiers casting lots is a reference to Psalm 22:18 “they divide my clothes among themselves, and for my clothing they cast lots.” Several details in the crucifixion narrative come from Psalm 22.
• Mark’s Gospel fills the space between his crucifixion and death with accounts of Jesus being mocked (v. 25-32). These descriptions are arranged so that in increasingly tight circles, Jesus is rejected by everyone, first passersby (v. 29, Psalm 22:7, “All who see me mock at me; they make mouths at me, they shake their heads”), then the Sanhedrin (v. 32a), and even those crucified with him (v. 32c).
• V. 33 says that three hours of darkness began at noon, ending with Jesus’ death. Darkness was a common sign of divine judgment (Amos 5:18 “Alas for you who desire the day of the LORD! Why do you want the day of the LORD? It is darkness, not light”). It was also thought to accompany the death of a great person; there is a similar story that the sun grew dark at the death of Julius Caesar.
• The words Jesus prayed in v. 34 are the opening line of Psalm 22. As is traditional to a lament psalm, Psalm 22 ends with words of confidence in God. Scholars are divided if readers are supposed to read in the entirety of Psalm 22 or only the opening line of Jesus’ abandonment by God. Either way, Jesus is characterized like Stephen in Acts, who is martyred firmly convicted in his faith. Rather, Jesus is identified with the psalmists, who cry out to God in their plight.
• In v. 35-36, we see the crowd still looking for a miracle from Jesus, interpret his words as a cry for Elijah. As readers, we know that cry will not be answered, as Elijah already came in John the Baptist.
• In v. 37, the moment of Jesus’ death is punctuated by a loud cry and the curtain of the Temple being torn in two from top to bottom. Scholars are divided on the reason for this detail. Some see the tearing of the veil, which separated the holy of holies from the rest of the sanctuary, to indicate that God is no longer present, or confined, to there but is now available to all. Others think it is a foreshadowing of the destruction of the Temple. Still others mark it as another cosmological sign.
• The centurion’s confession (“Truly this man was God’s son!”) is the third correct identification of Jesus, the first two coming from a voice from the clouds at his baptism (1:10) and transfiguration (9:7). The presence of Moses and Elijah at the transfiguration indicating that Jesus too will be taken up into heavenly glory.
Works Sourced:
Perkins, Pheme. “The Gospel of Mark.” The New Interpreter’s Bible Volume VIII. Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 1995.
1. Read passage aloud. What did you notice in the reading? What words or phrase caught your attention?
2. Read passage aloud a second time. What questions would you ask the text?
3. Read passage aloud a third time. What do you hear God calling you to do or be in response to this text?
Interesting Ideas to Consider:
Mark 11:1-11
• The Temple is the symbolic center of the section beginning with the triumphal entry into Jerusalem. Jesus entered the city, ending at the Temple, and on the next day he will cleanse the Temple (11:15). Later in this section, Jesus makes various predictions about the destruction of the Temple. The result of this focus makes clear the nature of the struggle between Jesus and his opponents is a religious one. The new temple will be “housed” within the new community that Jesus is creating.
• Jesus’ promise to return the colt in v. 3, set Jesus apart from the Roman soldiers who regularly confiscated animals and human labor.
• Coming across the predicted colt represented a common folklore technique in which a sign is described including details of a particular encounter.
• In Matthew, this story includes the confusing detail from Zechariah 9:9 that the victorious king will come “humble, and mounted on a donkey, and on a colt, the foal of a donkey,” leading to Jesus being described as riding on the backs of two animals. Mark’s reference that the animal was “unbroken” may be a nod to Zechariah.
• Spreading cloaks on the ground before a king is a reference to Jehu’s accession to the throne in 2 Kings 9:13 (“Then hurriedly they all took their cloaks and spread them for him on the bare steps; and they blew the trumpet, and proclaimed, ‘Jehu is king.’”)
• While we wave palms on Palm Sunday to celebrate Jesus’ triumphal entry, the palms appear in John’s Gospel, not Mark’s. The tradition of waving palms probably came from the use of branches during the Feast of Tabernacles (Leviticus 23:39-43) or in the celebration of Hanukkah (2 Maccabees 10:7).
• The crowd’s shouts in v. 9-10 are a combination of two pilgrimage psalms (118:26a “Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the LORD” and 148:1 “Praise the LORD! Praise the LORD from the heavens; praise him in the heights!”). Psalm 118 was traditionally recited following the third cup of wine. An echo of this tradition is seen in the Last Supper narrative, where Jesus and the disciples sang a hymn before going to the Mount of Olives (Mark 14:26).
Mark 15:1-39
• Pontius Pilate was a Roman prefect (a governor with administrative authority conferred by the Roman Emperor). Prefects began controlling Judea in 6 CE after the removal of Herod the Great’s son. A prefect ruled under an imperium from Caesar which included the right to pass death sentences. As prefect, Pilate would have been used to dealing with Caiaphas and other members of the Jewish elite, and would have been unlikely to bother with investigating cases as seemingly unimportant as Jesus’, accepting instead the judgment of the Jewish religious elite.
• Pilate has not been described as having much sympathy for the Jewish people whom he governed. In one example, when his troops brought the Roman standards (flags) into Jerusalem, in violation of Jewish law, crowds gathered at his palace and stayed for five days. They only disbursed after the standards were removed, which happened after the Jews, when threatened by the troops, indicated they would be slaughtered instead of abandon their cause. In another example, Pilate took money from the Temple treasury to pay for an aqueduct and when the crowd rioted, Pilate sent disguised troops into the crowd to beat the rioters with clubs, wounding and killing many. Given this, it seems like Mark’s suggestion that Pilate considered Jesus innocent may have been overly positive. He probably would have demonstrated more contempt than concern.
• The charge against Jesus was that he claimed he was the “king of the Jews.” From Pilate’s perspective, he probably wouldn’t have cared. Technically, since the death of Herod the Great, the Jews had no king. Anytime the Romans installed one of Herod’s sons, they deliberately did not give them the title of “king.”
• Jesus accepted the titles of “Messiah” and “Son of God,” both of which would be designations for someone claiming to restore the Davidic kingship.
• Continuing the pattern started with the Sanhedrin earlier, Jesus refused to answer the false accusations made against him, evoking the suffering servant in Isaiah 38:13-15 and 53:7 (“He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth; like a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth”). Jesus’ silence makes Pilate’s presumption of innocence even less likely, since those who usually spoke for the Jewish community named him guilty.
• Barabbas was guilty of inciting the same type of religious violence Jesus was accused of inciting. Per ancient historians Josephus and Tacitus, bandits like Barabbas weakened the Jewish aristocracy, leading to the eventual downfall of Jerusalem. By freeing Barabbas, Mark is implying the Jewish leaders contributed to their own destruction.
• For centuries, the idea that Jews were responsible for the death of Jesus has fueled anti-Semitic violence. Mark’s readers would have recognized the death of Jesus as a result of local power struggles. The real responsibility belongs to those who participate in deceit and power struggles at the expense of the innocent, a crime not restricted to the time of Jesus. The mocking by the Roman soldiers shows how depersonalizing the victim increases the violence in society (James Cone’s The Cross and the Lynching Tree makes the connection with the depersonalization of African Americans allowing for wide-spread lynching and other violent actions). The release of Barabbas shows how power politics can keep people from being able to recognize the guilty from the innocent.
• The specific reference to Simon the Cyrene probably served to provide a credible witness to the crucifixion since all Jesus’ disciples had fled.
• Contrary to popular imagery of Jesus carrying the whole cross, those sentenced to crucifixion generally only carried the cross bar. So should we understand Simon’s carrying the cross as a sign of the great suffering and abuse Jesus endured before the crucifixion leaving him too weak, or a sign of honor?
• Wine mixed with myrrh was a common narcotic (Proverbs 3:16 “Give strong drink to one who is perishing, and wine to those in bitter distress”). Jesus’ refusal to drink it implies that he was fully conscious throughout the whole crucifixion, in contrast to his disciples who fell asleep.
• The soldiers casting lots is a reference to Psalm 22:18 “they divide my clothes among themselves, and for my clothing they cast lots.” Several details in the crucifixion narrative come from Psalm 22.
• Mark’s Gospel fills the space between his crucifixion and death with accounts of Jesus being mocked (v. 25-32). These descriptions are arranged so that in increasingly tight circles, Jesus is rejected by everyone, first passersby (v. 29, Psalm 22:7, “All who see me mock at me; they make mouths at me, they shake their heads”), then the Sanhedrin (v. 32a), and even those crucified with him (v. 32c).
• V. 33 says that three hours of darkness began at noon, ending with Jesus’ death. Darkness was a common sign of divine judgment (Amos 5:18 “Alas for you who desire the day of the LORD! Why do you want the day of the LORD? It is darkness, not light”). It was also thought to accompany the death of a great person; there is a similar story that the sun grew dark at the death of Julius Caesar.
• The words Jesus prayed in v. 34 are the opening line of Psalm 22. As is traditional to a lament psalm, Psalm 22 ends with words of confidence in God. Scholars are divided if readers are supposed to read in the entirety of Psalm 22 or only the opening line of Jesus’ abandonment by God. Either way, Jesus is characterized like Stephen in Acts, who is martyred firmly convicted in his faith. Rather, Jesus is identified with the psalmists, who cry out to God in their plight.
• In v. 35-36, we see the crowd still looking for a miracle from Jesus, interpret his words as a cry for Elijah. As readers, we know that cry will not be answered, as Elijah already came in John the Baptist.
• In v. 37, the moment of Jesus’ death is punctuated by a loud cry and the curtain of the Temple being torn in two from top to bottom. Scholars are divided on the reason for this detail. Some see the tearing of the veil, which separated the holy of holies from the rest of the sanctuary, to indicate that God is no longer present, or confined, to there but is now available to all. Others think it is a foreshadowing of the destruction of the Temple. Still others mark it as another cosmological sign.
• The centurion’s confession (“Truly this man was God’s son!”) is the third correct identification of Jesus, the first two coming from a voice from the clouds at his baptism (1:10) and transfiguration (9:7). The presence of Moses and Elijah at the transfiguration indicating that Jesus too will be taken up into heavenly glory.
Works Sourced:
Perkins, Pheme. “The Gospel of Mark.” The New Interpreter’s Bible Volume VIII. Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 1995.
Monday, March 19, 2018
The Light has Come Into the World: A Sermon on John 12:20-33
So first off, a brief word of apology. You may know, I have a friend from seminary who I share sermons with every week. You don’t know her, but you’ve benefited from this, because Kelli is the one that says, I have no idea where this is going, here’s how to make it better. In my professional career, I have preached exactly one sermon that Kelli did not read beforehand, and it was the week after her son was born. I sent her this one last week, as I always do, and my big concern was it felt a bit too academic. She responded, well, it starts out a little heady… But you get going later on. So I probably should have reworked it on her feedback. But this is really what got me hopeful this week, and you all always seem to respond well to what really moves me, so I’m going to go out on a limb and just give you all this theology. So hang in there, per Kelli I get less wonky as it goes on.
A colleague posted an alternate translation of one of the verses from our Gospel reading for this morning. Instead of translating verse thirty-one as “Now is the judgment of this world,” as we heard from the NRSV, he translated it as “Now is the crisis of the cosmos.” Now in full disclosure, my Greek is not good enough to tell if crisis is a fair translation or not, but it definitely got me thinking.
When we think of the word “judgment” in scripture, we often think of it as this future thing, when Jesus will “come again to judge the living and the dead” like we say in the Apostles Creed. Its finality makes judgment seem like a pretty terrifying thing. Certainly we’ve all seen the tracks asking “where will you go on Judgment Day?” Implying that there will be a moment when we will all have had to make a “decision for Jesus” and we don’t know when that day will come, but it may be any minute, so we better get on board. This line from John seems to add to the urgency of the situation, “Now” Jesus said, “is the judgment of this world; now the ruler of this world will be driven out.” Now.
But, this text was written two-thousand years ago, and it seems to me like the world hasn’t ended and the ruler of the world definitely hasn’t been driven out. So what did Jesus mean when he said, “Now is the judgment of the world”?
There are a couple of different things that could be going on here. The first one is, especially in John’s Gospel, Jesus doesn’t really have a lot of concern for time as we understand it. C. S. Lewis explains it like this, as humans, we experience time like a yardstick, with us a single point on it. We know what is in front and behind, but we can only ever be at one point and we can only travel it in one direction. But while we are a point on the yardstick, God is the air around it, at the same time touching in front of us, behind us, where we are, and all around us. We see a little bit of that in the reading this morning. Jesus said, “Now is the hour for the Son of Man to be glorified.” When Jesus talks about “being glorified” in John’s Gospel, he is talking specifically about his crucifixion. That is what glory means for Jesus in John’s Gospel. And we see that very clearly, Jesus said, “now is the hour… Father, glorify your name” in chapter twelve, and by chapter thirteen we’re at the last supper, so, yeah, it’s go time. But then verse twenty-eight goes on with a voice from heaven saying, “I have glorified it, and I will glorify it again.” In that verse we see how the singular historic event of the crucifixion of Jesus is not bound by its location on a chronological timeline of human history. The bishop explained it in seminary like dropping a rock into a pond, the ripples of Christ’s death spread both forward and backward throughout time and space. The glorification of Christ on the cross and subsequent salvation of the world is not history, it’s not something we remember that happened long ago, it is happening now. It is as ancient as “In the beginning was the Word,” as current as this bread and cup, and every moment in between.
So that’s part of what I think Jesus meant by, “Now is the judgment of the world,” this vast already and not yet of living in the time and space between Christ has come and Christ will come again. But there’s something else even more immediately relevant and hopeful I found as I pondered this text, and it came from holding this text in conversation with the one from last week.
Last week, verse nineteen read, “And this is the judgment, that the light has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than light.” That caught me, because I’d always thought of judgment as Jesus making a decision between who was in the light and who was in the darkness, but here Jesus seems to be saying that judgment is everyone is in the light, and the question is do we want to be there or not? How uncomfortable does suddenly finding ourselves in the light make us? In today’s reading, could Jesus also be saying that now that the hour of his glorification has come, the light is on in the world?
If judgment is the light being turned on, then my colleague’s translation as judgment as crisis makes sense. Because how we may feel about having the light turned on really depends on what we were doing in the dark. It makes me think about how sometimes when I come home and flip on the light, my cat jumps off the table. He knows he’s not allowed on the table, but he’s a cat, so as long as no one’s home and the lights are off, he could care less where he’s allowed. But when the light comes on, boom, he’s gone. Well, most of the time. He is, like I said, a cat, so sometimes I flip on the light and he looks at me like, “yes, this is my new favorite spot, and I don’t really care about you,” and then I dump him on the floor. But when he’s in a pleasing mood, and I flip on the light, he skitters off the table like something’s chasing him. If judgment is the light coming on in the world, and in the glory of Christ all of the darkness is banished away, then unlike my cat, we have nowhere to hide, we have to stand exposed in the light.
This exposure can be painful. Think of the way your eyes feel if you’re in a dark room and suddenly someone turns on the light. Our vision adjusts to seeing in darkness, and that sudden shift hurts. You might turn away, or shield your eyes, or close them. But we know from experience that we get used to it after awhile, our eyes readjust to the light and we can see better in the end then we could before. And oh my gosh, is there better news in this chaotic time, than all of this crisis we feel is that blinding moment of light coming into the world and revealing things as they are. Rather than fear, this idea gives me hope, that all of this crisis is light finally being shown in the dark places where our complacency had allowed pain and suffering and evil to fester, and what we’re experiencing now is those first blinding moments of readjustment as we learn how to see again. I had amazing conversations with the hooligans this week about the walkouts at Harper Creek and Pennfield, and I have to say regardless of your views on gun control or the protests or any of the partisanship around these issues, you should see incredible hope in the clarity and the articulation which these kids had about the future of our world and their place in it. Their opinions on the issues were as diverse as any group of adults I’ve met, from gun control to increased security to better mental health care, but universally these kids did not feel like the problem could not be solved. They did not see mass shootings as an unavoidable and intractable reality. They were also not so naïve as to think they had the answer, but they felt like bringing the conversation, like having hard conversations and trying things and failing and trying something else was the only way change could occur. I walked away from Wednesday with no more answers then I’d had before, just as confused and overwhelmed by the complexity of the problem as I was before, but I also walked away incredibly hopeful. Because rather than the big scary thing that could not be discussed, these kids turned the light on for me. They disagreed, with each other and with me, but we all disagreed openly and respectfully, we learned from each other, and we found ways to let the conversation continue. That seems to me a lot like light being let into a dark space, and maybe as that light continues to grow; possibilities will emerge that we could not see before.
And because, to use C. S. Lewis’ metaphor from earlier, God is the air around the yardstick of our time, then this judgment, this light that is turning on in our world, this is continuously happening. Since “In the beginning was the Word,” the Word has been in the world bringing life and light. On Easter we are not celebrating that Jesus died and rose from the dead once, a long, long time ago, we are celebrating that Jesus dies and rises everywhere, every minute of every day, and in dying he destroys death, and in rising he brings us to eternal life. Christ’s death and resurrection was and is and is to come, this unending unfolding of hope and light and promise that we from our finite human plane can see only in part, but God in God’s infiniteness knows fully.
So have hope and walk boldly, dear people of God. Because when Christ is, was, and will be lifted up, he will, is, and already has drawn us together with the whole creation to himself. Yes, it’s blinding, standing in the light. But your eyes will adjust. They always have before. Amen.
A colleague posted an alternate translation of one of the verses from our Gospel reading for this morning. Instead of translating verse thirty-one as “Now is the judgment of this world,” as we heard from the NRSV, he translated it as “Now is the crisis of the cosmos.” Now in full disclosure, my Greek is not good enough to tell if crisis is a fair translation or not, but it definitely got me thinking.
When we think of the word “judgment” in scripture, we often think of it as this future thing, when Jesus will “come again to judge the living and the dead” like we say in the Apostles Creed. Its finality makes judgment seem like a pretty terrifying thing. Certainly we’ve all seen the tracks asking “where will you go on Judgment Day?” Implying that there will be a moment when we will all have had to make a “decision for Jesus” and we don’t know when that day will come, but it may be any minute, so we better get on board. This line from John seems to add to the urgency of the situation, “Now” Jesus said, “is the judgment of this world; now the ruler of this world will be driven out.” Now.
But, this text was written two-thousand years ago, and it seems to me like the world hasn’t ended and the ruler of the world definitely hasn’t been driven out. So what did Jesus mean when he said, “Now is the judgment of the world”?
There are a couple of different things that could be going on here. The first one is, especially in John’s Gospel, Jesus doesn’t really have a lot of concern for time as we understand it. C. S. Lewis explains it like this, as humans, we experience time like a yardstick, with us a single point on it. We know what is in front and behind, but we can only ever be at one point and we can only travel it in one direction. But while we are a point on the yardstick, God is the air around it, at the same time touching in front of us, behind us, where we are, and all around us. We see a little bit of that in the reading this morning. Jesus said, “Now is the hour for the Son of Man to be glorified.” When Jesus talks about “being glorified” in John’s Gospel, he is talking specifically about his crucifixion. That is what glory means for Jesus in John’s Gospel. And we see that very clearly, Jesus said, “now is the hour… Father, glorify your name” in chapter twelve, and by chapter thirteen we’re at the last supper, so, yeah, it’s go time. But then verse twenty-eight goes on with a voice from heaven saying, “I have glorified it, and I will glorify it again.” In that verse we see how the singular historic event of the crucifixion of Jesus is not bound by its location on a chronological timeline of human history. The bishop explained it in seminary like dropping a rock into a pond, the ripples of Christ’s death spread both forward and backward throughout time and space. The glorification of Christ on the cross and subsequent salvation of the world is not history, it’s not something we remember that happened long ago, it is happening now. It is as ancient as “In the beginning was the Word,” as current as this bread and cup, and every moment in between.
So that’s part of what I think Jesus meant by, “Now is the judgment of the world,” this vast already and not yet of living in the time and space between Christ has come and Christ will come again. But there’s something else even more immediately relevant and hopeful I found as I pondered this text, and it came from holding this text in conversation with the one from last week.
Last week, verse nineteen read, “And this is the judgment, that the light has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than light.” That caught me, because I’d always thought of judgment as Jesus making a decision between who was in the light and who was in the darkness, but here Jesus seems to be saying that judgment is everyone is in the light, and the question is do we want to be there or not? How uncomfortable does suddenly finding ourselves in the light make us? In today’s reading, could Jesus also be saying that now that the hour of his glorification has come, the light is on in the world?
If judgment is the light being turned on, then my colleague’s translation as judgment as crisis makes sense. Because how we may feel about having the light turned on really depends on what we were doing in the dark. It makes me think about how sometimes when I come home and flip on the light, my cat jumps off the table. He knows he’s not allowed on the table, but he’s a cat, so as long as no one’s home and the lights are off, he could care less where he’s allowed. But when the light comes on, boom, he’s gone. Well, most of the time. He is, like I said, a cat, so sometimes I flip on the light and he looks at me like, “yes, this is my new favorite spot, and I don’t really care about you,” and then I dump him on the floor. But when he’s in a pleasing mood, and I flip on the light, he skitters off the table like something’s chasing him. If judgment is the light coming on in the world, and in the glory of Christ all of the darkness is banished away, then unlike my cat, we have nowhere to hide, we have to stand exposed in the light.
This exposure can be painful. Think of the way your eyes feel if you’re in a dark room and suddenly someone turns on the light. Our vision adjusts to seeing in darkness, and that sudden shift hurts. You might turn away, or shield your eyes, or close them. But we know from experience that we get used to it after awhile, our eyes readjust to the light and we can see better in the end then we could before. And oh my gosh, is there better news in this chaotic time, than all of this crisis we feel is that blinding moment of light coming into the world and revealing things as they are. Rather than fear, this idea gives me hope, that all of this crisis is light finally being shown in the dark places where our complacency had allowed pain and suffering and evil to fester, and what we’re experiencing now is those first blinding moments of readjustment as we learn how to see again. I had amazing conversations with the hooligans this week about the walkouts at Harper Creek and Pennfield, and I have to say regardless of your views on gun control or the protests or any of the partisanship around these issues, you should see incredible hope in the clarity and the articulation which these kids had about the future of our world and their place in it. Their opinions on the issues were as diverse as any group of adults I’ve met, from gun control to increased security to better mental health care, but universally these kids did not feel like the problem could not be solved. They did not see mass shootings as an unavoidable and intractable reality. They were also not so naïve as to think they had the answer, but they felt like bringing the conversation, like having hard conversations and trying things and failing and trying something else was the only way change could occur. I walked away from Wednesday with no more answers then I’d had before, just as confused and overwhelmed by the complexity of the problem as I was before, but I also walked away incredibly hopeful. Because rather than the big scary thing that could not be discussed, these kids turned the light on for me. They disagreed, with each other and with me, but we all disagreed openly and respectfully, we learned from each other, and we found ways to let the conversation continue. That seems to me a lot like light being let into a dark space, and maybe as that light continues to grow; possibilities will emerge that we could not see before.
And because, to use C. S. Lewis’ metaphor from earlier, God is the air around the yardstick of our time, then this judgment, this light that is turning on in our world, this is continuously happening. Since “In the beginning was the Word,” the Word has been in the world bringing life and light. On Easter we are not celebrating that Jesus died and rose from the dead once, a long, long time ago, we are celebrating that Jesus dies and rises everywhere, every minute of every day, and in dying he destroys death, and in rising he brings us to eternal life. Christ’s death and resurrection was and is and is to come, this unending unfolding of hope and light and promise that we from our finite human plane can see only in part, but God in God’s infiniteness knows fully.
So have hope and walk boldly, dear people of God. Because when Christ is, was, and will be lifted up, he will, is, and already has drawn us together with the whole creation to himself. Yes, it’s blinding, standing in the light. But your eyes will adjust. They always have before. Amen.
Thursday, March 15, 2018
Conversation Points for John 12:20-33
Study Format:
1. Read passage aloud. What did you notice in the reading? What words or phrase caught your attention?
2. Read passage aloud a second time. What questions would you ask the text?
3. Read passage aloud a third time. What do you hear God calling you to do or be in response to this text?
Interesting Ideas to Consider:
• Immediately following this passage, in verse 19, the Pharisees made an unwitting prediction confirming the promise made in John 3:16-17, that Jesus had come to save the whole world. This passage starts with the arrival of “Greeks” (Hellenes) which should be distinguished from Greek-speaking Jews (Hellenistai). The fact that they have made the pilgrimage to Jerusalem for the Passover means they well have been Greek proselytes, but the point the writer of John was making was that non-Jews, representatives of the Gentile world, are now coming to see Jesus.
• The role of Philip and Andrew echo their role in the beginning of the Gospel. In John 1:39-40, Jesus called Andrew to “come and see.” And in 1:43-46, Jesus found Philip, and then Philip found Nathanael with the same “come and see” invitation. Now in chapter 12, the first Jewish disciples respond to the first Gentile disciples request to “see” Jesus, which could also be read as a request by the Greeks to become disciples of Jesus.
• Verse 23 marks the turning point in John’s Gospel. Up until here, Jesus said his hour had “not yet come.” From here on, now that “The hour has come,” Jesus will begin a direct journey to the cross. The arrival of the Greeks is the final piece, a foretelling of the church’s future mission to the Gentiles and the inclusion of the Gentiles in God’s promise.
• While agrarian metaphors are common in the synoptics, John’s Gospel is doing something different in verse 24. Throughout John’s Gospel, “fruit” is a metaphor for the life of the community of faith (15:1-8 is a good example of this). The only way for the “fruit” to grow, per this metaphor and the more specifically stated in v. 32, is for Jesus to die.
• Verse 25 is John’s version of one of the best-attested sayings of Jesus (see also Matthew 10:39; 16:25; Mark 10:39; Luke 9:24; 17:33). While all of these have the same basic pattern, in John the word “life” (psyche) is the same one used by Jesus to describe his gift of life (see the Good Shepherd discourse, 10:11, 15, 17).
• Verse 26 also echoes a well-known synoptic saying (Matthew 10:38; Mark 8:34; Luke 14:27). While the synoptics contain only a condition for following Jesus (“taking up one’s cross”), in John there is both condition (“whoever serves me must follow me”) and promise (“where I am, there my servant will be” and “Whoever serves me, the Father will honor”). This promise is made more fully in the Farewell Discourse, that Jesus and the believer will be together forever.
• Verse 27 echoes the Gethsemane agony scene of Mark 14:32-42, but considering how in control of the passion story Jesus is in John, there is no reason to assume that is the reference. Rather, this is probably an ironic play on the tradition of Jesus’ agony at death. For John, the focus is on the urgency and immediacy of the hour.
• The words of “agony” in v. 27 allude to Psalm 42:5, 11 (“Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you disquieted within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my help”). The reference to Psalm 42 helps build the irony, because Psalm 42 is an affirmation of the psalmist’s trust in God. The first prayer, framed as a question (“and why should I say”) is never prayed by Jesus. The true prayer of the section is the second (“Father, glorify your name”). All of these are examples of how John’s Gospel takes traditional material and reshapes it to fit John’s understanding that Jesus’ ultimate purpose of ministry was to die.
• Verse 29 is often framed as the crowd not understanding what was unfolding. But thunder was commonly viewed as the voice of God, and angels were traditionally understood as messengers. So it seems the crowd understood at some level they were witnesses to a revelation of the divine, but not the whole scope of God’s presence in the relationship with Jesus.
• Verse 32 is the third prediction of “lifting up” (3:14; 8:28). Once again there is a double meaning at play, both his being lifted up on a cross, and being lifted up to glory, an act that will lead to the universal salvation of all.
• The most common understanding of the purpose of Jesus’ death in the North American tradition is as a sacrifice or a payment for humanity’s sin. In John’s Gospel, Jesus’ death is both necessary and life-giving not as a ransom or sacrifice, but because it reveals the power and promise of God’s love to the world.
Works Sourced:
O’ Day, Gail. “The Gospel of John.” The New Interpreter’s Bible Volume IX. Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 1995.
1. Read passage aloud. What did you notice in the reading? What words or phrase caught your attention?
2. Read passage aloud a second time. What questions would you ask the text?
3. Read passage aloud a third time. What do you hear God calling you to do or be in response to this text?
Interesting Ideas to Consider:
• Immediately following this passage, in verse 19, the Pharisees made an unwitting prediction confirming the promise made in John 3:16-17, that Jesus had come to save the whole world. This passage starts with the arrival of “Greeks” (Hellenes) which should be distinguished from Greek-speaking Jews (Hellenistai). The fact that they have made the pilgrimage to Jerusalem for the Passover means they well have been Greek proselytes, but the point the writer of John was making was that non-Jews, representatives of the Gentile world, are now coming to see Jesus.
• The role of Philip and Andrew echo their role in the beginning of the Gospel. In John 1:39-40, Jesus called Andrew to “come and see.” And in 1:43-46, Jesus found Philip, and then Philip found Nathanael with the same “come and see” invitation. Now in chapter 12, the first Jewish disciples respond to the first Gentile disciples request to “see” Jesus, which could also be read as a request by the Greeks to become disciples of Jesus.
• Verse 23 marks the turning point in John’s Gospel. Up until here, Jesus said his hour had “not yet come.” From here on, now that “The hour has come,” Jesus will begin a direct journey to the cross. The arrival of the Greeks is the final piece, a foretelling of the church’s future mission to the Gentiles and the inclusion of the Gentiles in God’s promise.
• While agrarian metaphors are common in the synoptics, John’s Gospel is doing something different in verse 24. Throughout John’s Gospel, “fruit” is a metaphor for the life of the community of faith (15:1-8 is a good example of this). The only way for the “fruit” to grow, per this metaphor and the more specifically stated in v. 32, is for Jesus to die.
• Verse 25 is John’s version of one of the best-attested sayings of Jesus (see also Matthew 10:39; 16:25; Mark 10:39; Luke 9:24; 17:33). While all of these have the same basic pattern, in John the word “life” (psyche) is the same one used by Jesus to describe his gift of life (see the Good Shepherd discourse, 10:11, 15, 17).
• Verse 26 also echoes a well-known synoptic saying (Matthew 10:38; Mark 8:34; Luke 14:27). While the synoptics contain only a condition for following Jesus (“taking up one’s cross”), in John there is both condition (“whoever serves me must follow me”) and promise (“where I am, there my servant will be” and “Whoever serves me, the Father will honor”). This promise is made more fully in the Farewell Discourse, that Jesus and the believer will be together forever.
• Verse 27 echoes the Gethsemane agony scene of Mark 14:32-42, but considering how in control of the passion story Jesus is in John, there is no reason to assume that is the reference. Rather, this is probably an ironic play on the tradition of Jesus’ agony at death. For John, the focus is on the urgency and immediacy of the hour.
• The words of “agony” in v. 27 allude to Psalm 42:5, 11 (“Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you disquieted within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my help”). The reference to Psalm 42 helps build the irony, because Psalm 42 is an affirmation of the psalmist’s trust in God. The first prayer, framed as a question (“and why should I say”) is never prayed by Jesus. The true prayer of the section is the second (“Father, glorify your name”). All of these are examples of how John’s Gospel takes traditional material and reshapes it to fit John’s understanding that Jesus’ ultimate purpose of ministry was to die.
• Verse 29 is often framed as the crowd not understanding what was unfolding. But thunder was commonly viewed as the voice of God, and angels were traditionally understood as messengers. So it seems the crowd understood at some level they were witnesses to a revelation of the divine, but not the whole scope of God’s presence in the relationship with Jesus.
• Verse 32 is the third prediction of “lifting up” (3:14; 8:28). Once again there is a double meaning at play, both his being lifted up on a cross, and being lifted up to glory, an act that will lead to the universal salvation of all.
• The most common understanding of the purpose of Jesus’ death in the North American tradition is as a sacrifice or a payment for humanity’s sin. In John’s Gospel, Jesus’ death is both necessary and life-giving not as a ransom or sacrifice, but because it reveals the power and promise of God’s love to the world.
Works Sourced:
O’ Day, Gail. “The Gospel of John.” The New Interpreter’s Bible Volume IX. Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 1995.
Monday, March 12, 2018
Salvation is Here: A Sermon on John 3:14-21
If you’ve ever wondered about why the Christmas tree at the church has a snake ornament, it comes from the Old Testament reading for today, where Moses lifted up a snake on a pole in the wilderness to heal the people of Israel when they were bitten by poisonous snakes. This is not my favorite Old Testament story, and not just because I’m not a big fan of snakes. It’s just a weird and unpleasant story. Since when does God send snakes, or anything like that, to bite people! This is the God who is “slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.” Poisonous snakes do not seem like abounding in steadfast love to me. And the Israelites complained about being stranded in the wilderness and not liking the food all the time, what was it about this time that made God say, alright, I’ve had enough, send in the snakes.
Then the people prayed for forgiveness and God is all, OK Moses, build a poisonous serpent out of bronze and place it on a pole. And then, when people get bitten by a snake, they can look at the snake on a pole and live. Which is a little bit better, but it still means people are being bitten by snakes. Wouldn’t it have been easier for God, who sent the snakes in the first place, to just take the snakes back again? Why do the snakes have to stay?
I’m not really sure what to make of this story, which seems to portray God as temperamental and vengeful enough to unleash a bunch of poisonous snakes on people simply for being tired of being lost in the desert. And I don’t know how to make sense of why God didn’t, or couldn’t, take the snakes back once they’d been unleashed. But I do think the story is maybe more helpful for the persistence of the snakes. Because the bronze serpent on the pole in the midst of the snakes reminds us that healing does not always mean the removal of suffering. Sometimes healing is the reminder of God’s continued presence with us even in the midst of suffering.
The snake story, like stories often are, is overly simple. People complained, God sent snakes. In the real world, events that produce suffering often develop from such a complexity of events and mistakes that there is no single cause. Spending so much of my time with the members of the Woman’s Co-op, I have become all too familiar with the complicated web of traps and pitfalls that led to the problem. I remember the story of a woman who had been offered a promotion at work, but had to turn it down because the small increase in salary would raise her family out of the income limit for subsidized childcare, yet was not enough extra money to allow her to pay the full childcare costs on her own. Or the woman who left her six year old to babysit her two year old through her third shift job, because it was the only way she could earn enough to care for them. Or women who drive on suspended licenses to get to work, because they can’t afford the fines on top of fines on top of fines, the chain that started with something as simple as a burnt out taillight that there was no money to fix. There are GED testing requirements for jobs, when testing is only offered in Albion. Or felony convictions from juvenile offenses that limit employment options for the rest of one’s life. Or lack of credit that prevents access to safe and affordable housing, leading to the only housing available being slumlords like Triangle or absentee landlords. In the story it seems easy, just take away the snakes. But in the real world, the snakes we face are complex and complicated, a tangled web of events and experiences, mistakes, and barriers that cannot be simply cleared through or easily undone.
And the good news that this story from the Old Testament promises us is that God provides healing even in the midst of the snakes. When we look around at our snake infested world, this story promises us that just because the snakes are still here, doesn’t mean that God is not. Just as the Israelites could look to the serpent on the pole and live, so too can we look to God and find healing. Because yes, the snakes are still here, and the snakes are real and poisonous, but God is more powerful than any snake.
This is the point Jesus was making in our Gospel reading for this morning. There’s a great pun happening here that the English translation misses. In verse fourteen where Jesus said, “Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up.” That word translated “lifted up” means to physically lift something up, like when Moses raised up a snake on a pole, or like when Jesus will be lifted up to be hung on a cross. But the same word can also be translated as “exalt” or “honor.” When Jesus was physically lifted to death on a cross, he was also spiritually lifted in honor and glory. In the cross we are shown the depth of God’s glory, on the cross Jesus shone with the radiance of God’s love. And just as so long ago the Israelites could look to the serpent, once a source of suffering and death, and find healing, when we look to the cross, a place of death and suffering, we too are healed, we too are made whole.
Verse fifteen goes on, “so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.” The word translated eternal life is a rich one as well. Eternal life means a life not defined by the limits of humanity, but by the infiniteness of God. Eternal life is not the hope of some never-ending physical existence, which really doesn’t sound all that pleasant if you think about it. It is not a future we have to wait for or work towards, eternal life is life lived right now in the unending presence of God.
Reading on, we get to perhaps the most well-known verse of the Bible, John 3:16. “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.” John 3:16 is certainly a great passage of scripture, my only beef with it is that it so often gets quoted without the corollary verse seventeen, “Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.” While the role of Jesus is judge, like we talked about last week, the point of that judgment is not condemnation, but salvation. Jesus didn’t come into our metaphorically snake-infested world to point out how bad everything already was, he came to save us from said snakes, to be light in the midst of the darkness, to draw us from death into life. And here’s a couple of fun facts from verses sixteen and seventeen that make these lines even more powerful. First off, verse sixteen is the only place in John’s Gospel that talks about Jesus being given to the world. Every other time, Jesus is described has having been “sent,” what is “given” is God as the source of what Jesus offers. But here, we see God giving us Jesus, a powerful reminder that the incarnation is God’s token of love to the world.
And that word “world” is also a powerful one. The Greek is kosmos, where we get the English “cosmos,” meaning the universe. But in John’s Gospel, kosmos most often means not the whole universe, but the human part of the universe, the part that is in conflict with the kingdom of God. Verses sixteen and seventeen state very clearly that through Jesus, God is not just reconciling the whole of creation, but very specifically the parts of creation that are in conflict. Jesus came not just to be lifted up to the whole wilderness, but specifically in the midst of the snake-infested parts, the parts that most needed a place to look to and be saved.
If you will now permit me my normal obscure theological term of the sermon, this is all a part of what theologians call the “realized eschatology” of the Gospel of John. Eschatology is the theological term for the end times. We often think of it as the great messianic moment, the long awaited future when Jesus comes to judge the living and the dead. But realized eschatology is the idea that the end times are now. Rather than some long-awaited future hope, realized eschatology holds that when God gave Jesus to the world in order that the world might be saved, what Jesus was doing was no less than saving the world. Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the wilderness, so that in the midst of a world still filled with snakes, the people of Israel could look up and be saved, so too was Jesus lifted up on the cross, so that in the midst of our broken world, we would not have to wait for some long-hoped for promise that never seems to be fulfilled, but we can look to the cross and know that salvation is already at hand. Yes there is still pain, yes there are still plenty of snakes, but the Word made Flesh raised to glory on the cross reminds us that the God whom “In the beginning,” billions upon billions of years ago, spoke the cosmos into being, this beautiful and ordered creation, so perfectly formed that we can study it, marvel in it, that same God is still at work, bringing healing to our broken kosmos. Dear friends in Christ, just as God led the people of Israel from slavery into freedom, so too is God leading not just us, but the whole of creation. It is a long, slow journey, for the world is much bigger than even the whole of the Judean wilderness. But just as the people of Israel once looked to the serpent on the pole, so too can we look to the cross and remember that even as we are in the midst of our journey, we do not wait for glory, for our salvation is already here. Amen.
Then the people prayed for forgiveness and God is all, OK Moses, build a poisonous serpent out of bronze and place it on a pole. And then, when people get bitten by a snake, they can look at the snake on a pole and live. Which is a little bit better, but it still means people are being bitten by snakes. Wouldn’t it have been easier for God, who sent the snakes in the first place, to just take the snakes back again? Why do the snakes have to stay?
I’m not really sure what to make of this story, which seems to portray God as temperamental and vengeful enough to unleash a bunch of poisonous snakes on people simply for being tired of being lost in the desert. And I don’t know how to make sense of why God didn’t, or couldn’t, take the snakes back once they’d been unleashed. But I do think the story is maybe more helpful for the persistence of the snakes. Because the bronze serpent on the pole in the midst of the snakes reminds us that healing does not always mean the removal of suffering. Sometimes healing is the reminder of God’s continued presence with us even in the midst of suffering.
The snake story, like stories often are, is overly simple. People complained, God sent snakes. In the real world, events that produce suffering often develop from such a complexity of events and mistakes that there is no single cause. Spending so much of my time with the members of the Woman’s Co-op, I have become all too familiar with the complicated web of traps and pitfalls that led to the problem. I remember the story of a woman who had been offered a promotion at work, but had to turn it down because the small increase in salary would raise her family out of the income limit for subsidized childcare, yet was not enough extra money to allow her to pay the full childcare costs on her own. Or the woman who left her six year old to babysit her two year old through her third shift job, because it was the only way she could earn enough to care for them. Or women who drive on suspended licenses to get to work, because they can’t afford the fines on top of fines on top of fines, the chain that started with something as simple as a burnt out taillight that there was no money to fix. There are GED testing requirements for jobs, when testing is only offered in Albion. Or felony convictions from juvenile offenses that limit employment options for the rest of one’s life. Or lack of credit that prevents access to safe and affordable housing, leading to the only housing available being slumlords like Triangle or absentee landlords. In the story it seems easy, just take away the snakes. But in the real world, the snakes we face are complex and complicated, a tangled web of events and experiences, mistakes, and barriers that cannot be simply cleared through or easily undone.
And the good news that this story from the Old Testament promises us is that God provides healing even in the midst of the snakes. When we look around at our snake infested world, this story promises us that just because the snakes are still here, doesn’t mean that God is not. Just as the Israelites could look to the serpent on the pole and live, so too can we look to God and find healing. Because yes, the snakes are still here, and the snakes are real and poisonous, but God is more powerful than any snake.
This is the point Jesus was making in our Gospel reading for this morning. There’s a great pun happening here that the English translation misses. In verse fourteen where Jesus said, “Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up.” That word translated “lifted up” means to physically lift something up, like when Moses raised up a snake on a pole, or like when Jesus will be lifted up to be hung on a cross. But the same word can also be translated as “exalt” or “honor.” When Jesus was physically lifted to death on a cross, he was also spiritually lifted in honor and glory. In the cross we are shown the depth of God’s glory, on the cross Jesus shone with the radiance of God’s love. And just as so long ago the Israelites could look to the serpent, once a source of suffering and death, and find healing, when we look to the cross, a place of death and suffering, we too are healed, we too are made whole.
Verse fifteen goes on, “so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.” The word translated eternal life is a rich one as well. Eternal life means a life not defined by the limits of humanity, but by the infiniteness of God. Eternal life is not the hope of some never-ending physical existence, which really doesn’t sound all that pleasant if you think about it. It is not a future we have to wait for or work towards, eternal life is life lived right now in the unending presence of God.
Reading on, we get to perhaps the most well-known verse of the Bible, John 3:16. “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.” John 3:16 is certainly a great passage of scripture, my only beef with it is that it so often gets quoted without the corollary verse seventeen, “Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.” While the role of Jesus is judge, like we talked about last week, the point of that judgment is not condemnation, but salvation. Jesus didn’t come into our metaphorically snake-infested world to point out how bad everything already was, he came to save us from said snakes, to be light in the midst of the darkness, to draw us from death into life. And here’s a couple of fun facts from verses sixteen and seventeen that make these lines even more powerful. First off, verse sixteen is the only place in John’s Gospel that talks about Jesus being given to the world. Every other time, Jesus is described has having been “sent,” what is “given” is God as the source of what Jesus offers. But here, we see God giving us Jesus, a powerful reminder that the incarnation is God’s token of love to the world.
And that word “world” is also a powerful one. The Greek is kosmos, where we get the English “cosmos,” meaning the universe. But in John’s Gospel, kosmos most often means not the whole universe, but the human part of the universe, the part that is in conflict with the kingdom of God. Verses sixteen and seventeen state very clearly that through Jesus, God is not just reconciling the whole of creation, but very specifically the parts of creation that are in conflict. Jesus came not just to be lifted up to the whole wilderness, but specifically in the midst of the snake-infested parts, the parts that most needed a place to look to and be saved.
If you will now permit me my normal obscure theological term of the sermon, this is all a part of what theologians call the “realized eschatology” of the Gospel of John. Eschatology is the theological term for the end times. We often think of it as the great messianic moment, the long awaited future when Jesus comes to judge the living and the dead. But realized eschatology is the idea that the end times are now. Rather than some long-awaited future hope, realized eschatology holds that when God gave Jesus to the world in order that the world might be saved, what Jesus was doing was no less than saving the world. Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the wilderness, so that in the midst of a world still filled with snakes, the people of Israel could look up and be saved, so too was Jesus lifted up on the cross, so that in the midst of our broken world, we would not have to wait for some long-hoped for promise that never seems to be fulfilled, but we can look to the cross and know that salvation is already at hand. Yes there is still pain, yes there are still plenty of snakes, but the Word made Flesh raised to glory on the cross reminds us that the God whom “In the beginning,” billions upon billions of years ago, spoke the cosmos into being, this beautiful and ordered creation, so perfectly formed that we can study it, marvel in it, that same God is still at work, bringing healing to our broken kosmos. Dear friends in Christ, just as God led the people of Israel from slavery into freedom, so too is God leading not just us, but the whole of creation. It is a long, slow journey, for the world is much bigger than even the whole of the Judean wilderness. But just as the people of Israel once looked to the serpent on the pole, so too can we look to the cross and remember that even as we are in the midst of our journey, we do not wait for glory, for our salvation is already here. Amen.
Conversation Points for John 3:14-21
Study Format:
1. Read passage aloud. What did you notice in the reading? What words or phrase caught your attention?
2. Read passage aloud a second time. What questions would you ask the text?
3. Read passage aloud a third time. What do you hear God calling you to do or be in response to this text?
Interesting Ideas to Consider:
• This passage is part of Jesus’ conversation with the Pharisee Nicodemus, who came to Jesus by night to seek out Jesus, an example of discipleship. Nicodemus appears two other times in John’s Gospel, once as a weak defender of Jesus to the other Pharisees, and then after his crucifixion to help bury him.
• The story referenced is the first reading for Sunday, in which Moses lifted up a bronze serpent on a pole that people could look to for healing if they were bitten by a snake (Numbers 21:4-9).
• There’s a double meaning in v. 14 as the Greek word hypsoo means both “lift up” and “exalt.” The Hebrew word nasa has a similar double meaning (Genesis 40:9-23, plays on the same double meaning. The baker and the cup bearer both tell the Pharaoh dreams. The interpretation of the cupbearer’s dream is that his head will be “lifted up,” meaning he will be exalted. The baker’s head will also be “lifted up,” but using the second sense of the word, his head will literally be lifted from his body, he will be decapitated). In v. 14, the double meaning of hypsoo means Jesus will be physically lifted up on a cross, and in that moment also lifted up in honor, or exalted. This overlap of crucifixion and exaltation is crucial to understanding salvation in the Gospel of John. It is in crucifixion that Jesus is most highly exalted.
• V. 15 makes clear how the crucifixion leads to salvation. “Eternal life” (zoen aionion) is one of the repeated frames of John’s Gospel. It refers to a life not defined by humanity, but by God. “Eternal” is not merely endless, like you’ll live forever, but rather it is life lived in the unending presence of God. It is not the promise of the believer’s future, but is part of the present.
• John 3:16 is the only place in the Gospel in which Jesus is described as having been “given” to the world by God. The verb “give” (didomi) shows up often in John’s Gospel in reference to God as the source of what Jesus offers. But Jesus is usually described as having been “sent” (pempo and apostello, used interchangeably, both mean “to send”). The use of “give” in v. 16 highlights that the incarnation comes from God’s love for the world.
• “World” (kosmos) in John’s Gospel mostly refers to humans who are at odds with Jesus and God. The use of the word here seems to indicate that Jesus came for the whole world, not just those who follow him.
Works Sourced:
O’ Day, Gail. “The Gospel of John.” The New Interpreter’s Bible Volume IX. Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 1995.
1. Read passage aloud. What did you notice in the reading? What words or phrase caught your attention?
2. Read passage aloud a second time. What questions would you ask the text?
3. Read passage aloud a third time. What do you hear God calling you to do or be in response to this text?
Interesting Ideas to Consider:
• This passage is part of Jesus’ conversation with the Pharisee Nicodemus, who came to Jesus by night to seek out Jesus, an example of discipleship. Nicodemus appears two other times in John’s Gospel, once as a weak defender of Jesus to the other Pharisees, and then after his crucifixion to help bury him.
• The story referenced is the first reading for Sunday, in which Moses lifted up a bronze serpent on a pole that people could look to for healing if they were bitten by a snake (Numbers 21:4-9).
• There’s a double meaning in v. 14 as the Greek word hypsoo means both “lift up” and “exalt.” The Hebrew word nasa has a similar double meaning (Genesis 40:9-23, plays on the same double meaning. The baker and the cup bearer both tell the Pharaoh dreams. The interpretation of the cupbearer’s dream is that his head will be “lifted up,” meaning he will be exalted. The baker’s head will also be “lifted up,” but using the second sense of the word, his head will literally be lifted from his body, he will be decapitated). In v. 14, the double meaning of hypsoo means Jesus will be physically lifted up on a cross, and in that moment also lifted up in honor, or exalted. This overlap of crucifixion and exaltation is crucial to understanding salvation in the Gospel of John. It is in crucifixion that Jesus is most highly exalted.
• V. 15 makes clear how the crucifixion leads to salvation. “Eternal life” (zoen aionion) is one of the repeated frames of John’s Gospel. It refers to a life not defined by humanity, but by God. “Eternal” is not merely endless, like you’ll live forever, but rather it is life lived in the unending presence of God. It is not the promise of the believer’s future, but is part of the present.
• John 3:16 is the only place in the Gospel in which Jesus is described as having been “given” to the world by God. The verb “give” (didomi) shows up often in John’s Gospel in reference to God as the source of what Jesus offers. But Jesus is usually described as having been “sent” (pempo and apostello, used interchangeably, both mean “to send”). The use of “give” in v. 16 highlights that the incarnation comes from God’s love for the world.
• “World” (kosmos) in John’s Gospel mostly refers to humans who are at odds with Jesus and God. The use of the word here seems to indicate that Jesus came for the whole world, not just those who follow him.
Works Sourced:
O’ Day, Gail. “The Gospel of John.” The New Interpreter’s Bible Volume IX. Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 1995.
Sunday, March 4, 2018
Zeal: A Sermon on John 2:13-22
There’s a funny internet meme that always goes around my Facebook friends when this reading comes up in the lectionary. The background is a very vivid painting by one of the old renaissance era masters of Jesus driving out the money changers from the temple with a whip, framed by the words, “If anyone ever asks you, ‘What would Jesus do?’ Remind him that flipping over tables and chasing people with a whip is in the realm of possibilities.”
This story of Jesus turning over the tables and chasing the money changers out of the temple appears in all four Gospels, but no one tells it with as much fervor and detail as John. Only in John does Jesus produce a whip, and only in John is it mentioned that in addition to the money changers, Jesus also drove out the sheep and the cattle. Not even cows escaped Jesus’ zeal.
Before we get too far into this, it’s worth remembering that sheep, cows, and money changers were not just in the temple for funsies, there was a very important and useful reason they were there. Jesus was in town for the Passover, one of the pilgrimage festivals in the ancient Jewish tradition. People would travel from all over Judea to Jerusalem to worship in the temple, and an important part of worship was bringing an offering. But, unlike today when we have checks and credit cards and things like that, in the first century people would bring things like sheep, cattle, and doves. Imagine the complication of trying to transport your cow many miles through the desert to bring it to the temple. Not exactly convenient. So merchants began selling animals in the temple to help those traveling long distance be able to fully participate. The money changers were there for a similar purpose. Greek and Roman coins couldn’t be used for temple offering, because the image of the emperor on them was considered idolatry. So money changers were available so travelers could exchange for local coin.
The point of my sharing this information is to show that, like so many other things, the merchants and the money-changers in the temple started out as a way to help people connect to God. But over time, we humans got mixed up in it and it became something that kept people away from God. And whenever we humans turned a thing God gave us to connect into a way to keep people away, Jesus always showed up and set it straight. We saw it when Jesus quote-unquote broke the Sabbath by healing; the Sabbath is for about rest and connection. We saw it with food laws, they were meant to keep us healthy but became about proving who was in, just to name a few. God gave us rules to help us have healthy communities, and anytime humanity tried to use those rules to keep people out rather than keep people in, Jesus just had no time for that nonsense.
So that in and of itself is some pretty good news. But in John’s Gospel there’s even more going on. Because in John, Jesus wasn’t just challenging the rampant consumerist culture that had sprung up at the temple, he was “consumed by zeal.” Zeal is a great word; it connotes this deep, passionate, almost uncontrollable enthusiasm. As the reading goes on, we see that when Jesus said “zeal for your house will consume me,” he was making a passion prediction. Jesus was not talking about the temple at all, but about how his zeal would lead him to the destruction of his body on the cross.
All four Gospels have this story of Jesus overturning the tables and chasing the money changers out of the Temple, but only John places the story so early in Jesus’ ministry. Matthew, Mark, and Luke have the incident taking place during Holy Week, which is probably more historically accurate. It seems unlikely that the religious leadership would have allowed Jesus to make such a stir and then go on with his ministry for another three years. But John locates the story here to make a theological point. Immediately before this was the wedding at Cana, where Jesus first revealed his glory by turning water into wine. Now in this temple scene we see how the new life Jesus is bringing will challenge, even topple, the existing structures. In Cana, Jesus filled stone jars reserved for ritual purification with the best wine for a party, in the temple he will chase out the people who tried to profit off others access to God. But even more than that, the cultural belief of the time was that the temple in Jerusalem was the dwelling place of God, but in Jesus we have God among us, God with skin on, and by dying, by destroying his own body, Jesus will destroy the last barrier that stood between God and humanity, the barrier of death itself, releasing the glory of God into the world.
The good news for us in this story is that Jesus is zealous in his love for us. Jesus is consumed by zeal for God and for God’s people, for us, and Jesus will not let any barrier stand in the way of us and God’s love for us. Jesus has come into this world to turn things over, literally and figuratively, so that nothing, no barrier either human or divine, can stand between us and God. He flipped over tables and chased out the money changers with a whip in the temple, and in a few weeks we’ll hear about how he himself was whipped and then turned the world upside down on a cross, so all-consuming was, is, Christ’s zeal for us.
That is the good news, and here is the challenge. The challenge is this means that some things in your life are going to get flipped. And remember how the merchants and the money changers were originally in the temple for good and helpful reasons, this may mean that some things in your life, some patterns you developed that once were helpful but now are not so much, Jesus may be preparing to flip those things upside down and chase them out of your life. Our hymn of the day talks about how the world is about to turn and not a stone will be left on stone. It’s one of my very favorite hymns, don’t get me wrong, but I remember Bishop Satterlee pointing out in seminary that we all love that song, until we think about how the world God is turning may also be our world, how the fortress towers God is going to dismantle could be fortresses we built. It’s one thing to look out on other’s spears and rods and pray for God to crush them, but are we ready to recognize that we too might be holding some spears that need to be crushed? This passage challenges us to consider what barriers we might have built, to look for things in our own life, in our own church, that Jesus may be coming to turn over. It invites us to ask the question of if we share Jesus’ zeal in removing everything that keeps people from God’s grace and love, even things we like?
Dear people of God, Jesus Christ is zealous, is consumed by his love for you, and nothing, no one and no thing will keep Jesus Christ from you. Lent gives us this blessed time to look at ourselves and at our world and to see what tables may need turning, what barriers may need dismantling, and to begin that work ourselves. It is not easy work, tearing down the things that once seemed helpful can be hard. But here is the good news. Jesus is consumed by the zeal of his love for you. And nothing, nothing, will keep Jesus away. The world is not just about to turn, it has turned. On the cross Jesus turned the world on its axis to break every barrier that kept us from God. This passage invites us, like it did the disciples, to remember that Jesus had said this, and lived those words out in his actions, and to believe what Jesus has spoken. Amen.
This story of Jesus turning over the tables and chasing the money changers out of the temple appears in all four Gospels, but no one tells it with as much fervor and detail as John. Only in John does Jesus produce a whip, and only in John is it mentioned that in addition to the money changers, Jesus also drove out the sheep and the cattle. Not even cows escaped Jesus’ zeal.
Before we get too far into this, it’s worth remembering that sheep, cows, and money changers were not just in the temple for funsies, there was a very important and useful reason they were there. Jesus was in town for the Passover, one of the pilgrimage festivals in the ancient Jewish tradition. People would travel from all over Judea to Jerusalem to worship in the temple, and an important part of worship was bringing an offering. But, unlike today when we have checks and credit cards and things like that, in the first century people would bring things like sheep, cattle, and doves. Imagine the complication of trying to transport your cow many miles through the desert to bring it to the temple. Not exactly convenient. So merchants began selling animals in the temple to help those traveling long distance be able to fully participate. The money changers were there for a similar purpose. Greek and Roman coins couldn’t be used for temple offering, because the image of the emperor on them was considered idolatry. So money changers were available so travelers could exchange for local coin.
The point of my sharing this information is to show that, like so many other things, the merchants and the money-changers in the temple started out as a way to help people connect to God. But over time, we humans got mixed up in it and it became something that kept people away from God. And whenever we humans turned a thing God gave us to connect into a way to keep people away, Jesus always showed up and set it straight. We saw it when Jesus quote-unquote broke the Sabbath by healing; the Sabbath is for about rest and connection. We saw it with food laws, they were meant to keep us healthy but became about proving who was in, just to name a few. God gave us rules to help us have healthy communities, and anytime humanity tried to use those rules to keep people out rather than keep people in, Jesus just had no time for that nonsense.
So that in and of itself is some pretty good news. But in John’s Gospel there’s even more going on. Because in John, Jesus wasn’t just challenging the rampant consumerist culture that had sprung up at the temple, he was “consumed by zeal.” Zeal is a great word; it connotes this deep, passionate, almost uncontrollable enthusiasm. As the reading goes on, we see that when Jesus said “zeal for your house will consume me,” he was making a passion prediction. Jesus was not talking about the temple at all, but about how his zeal would lead him to the destruction of his body on the cross.
All four Gospels have this story of Jesus overturning the tables and chasing the money changers out of the Temple, but only John places the story so early in Jesus’ ministry. Matthew, Mark, and Luke have the incident taking place during Holy Week, which is probably more historically accurate. It seems unlikely that the religious leadership would have allowed Jesus to make such a stir and then go on with his ministry for another three years. But John locates the story here to make a theological point. Immediately before this was the wedding at Cana, where Jesus first revealed his glory by turning water into wine. Now in this temple scene we see how the new life Jesus is bringing will challenge, even topple, the existing structures. In Cana, Jesus filled stone jars reserved for ritual purification with the best wine for a party, in the temple he will chase out the people who tried to profit off others access to God. But even more than that, the cultural belief of the time was that the temple in Jerusalem was the dwelling place of God, but in Jesus we have God among us, God with skin on, and by dying, by destroying his own body, Jesus will destroy the last barrier that stood between God and humanity, the barrier of death itself, releasing the glory of God into the world.
The good news for us in this story is that Jesus is zealous in his love for us. Jesus is consumed by zeal for God and for God’s people, for us, and Jesus will not let any barrier stand in the way of us and God’s love for us. Jesus has come into this world to turn things over, literally and figuratively, so that nothing, no barrier either human or divine, can stand between us and God. He flipped over tables and chased out the money changers with a whip in the temple, and in a few weeks we’ll hear about how he himself was whipped and then turned the world upside down on a cross, so all-consuming was, is, Christ’s zeal for us.
That is the good news, and here is the challenge. The challenge is this means that some things in your life are going to get flipped. And remember how the merchants and the money changers were originally in the temple for good and helpful reasons, this may mean that some things in your life, some patterns you developed that once were helpful but now are not so much, Jesus may be preparing to flip those things upside down and chase them out of your life. Our hymn of the day talks about how the world is about to turn and not a stone will be left on stone. It’s one of my very favorite hymns, don’t get me wrong, but I remember Bishop Satterlee pointing out in seminary that we all love that song, until we think about how the world God is turning may also be our world, how the fortress towers God is going to dismantle could be fortresses we built. It’s one thing to look out on other’s spears and rods and pray for God to crush them, but are we ready to recognize that we too might be holding some spears that need to be crushed? This passage challenges us to consider what barriers we might have built, to look for things in our own life, in our own church, that Jesus may be coming to turn over. It invites us to ask the question of if we share Jesus’ zeal in removing everything that keeps people from God’s grace and love, even things we like?
Dear people of God, Jesus Christ is zealous, is consumed by his love for you, and nothing, no one and no thing will keep Jesus Christ from you. Lent gives us this blessed time to look at ourselves and at our world and to see what tables may need turning, what barriers may need dismantling, and to begin that work ourselves. It is not easy work, tearing down the things that once seemed helpful can be hard. But here is the good news. Jesus is consumed by the zeal of his love for you. And nothing, nothing, will keep Jesus away. The world is not just about to turn, it has turned. On the cross Jesus turned the world on its axis to break every barrier that kept us from God. This passage invites us, like it did the disciples, to remember that Jesus had said this, and lived those words out in his actions, and to believe what Jesus has spoken. Amen.
Thursday, March 1, 2018
Conversation Points for John 2:13-22
Study Format:
1. Read passage aloud. What did you notice in the reading? What words or phrase caught your attention?
2. Read passage aloud a second time. What questions would you ask the text?
3. Read passage aloud a third time. What do you hear God calling you to do or be in response to this text?
Interesting Ideas to Consider:
• Unlike in the synoptic, in John’s Gospel, Jesus traveled to Jerusalem three times. In 2:13, after the intimate setting of the beginning of John’s Gospel with Jesus in Galilee surrounded by friends and family, Jesus made his first trip to the Temple in Jerusalem, the geographical and spiritual center of the Jewish faith. The story of Jesus cleansing the Temple contrasts Jesus’ authority with the authority of the religious leaders.
• The story of Jesus cleansing the temple appears in all four Gospels. However, the synoptics all place this incident as part of his passion, whereas John locates it at the very beginning of his ministry. The synoptics are probably more historically accurate; it is hard to imagine the religious authorities tolerating such a blatantly challenging act for long. In John, locating the incident here frames it as the completion of Jesus’ introduction. At the wedding at Cana, Jesus revealed his grace and glory by turning water into wine, highlighting the new life Jesus offers. In the temple cleansing, Jesus demonstrated the challenge and threat that new life poses to the existing order.
• In the Greek, verses 14-16 are all one long, complex sentence, serving to create a mood of urgency and haste, underscoring the intensity of Jesus’ actions. “Just as Jesus never hesitates as he moves through the Temple, so, too, vv. 14-16 never hesitate.”
• John’s description of the temple scene is much fuller and more dramatic than that of the synoptics, describing a scene of sheep and cattle, and Jesus driving out humans and animals with a whip.
• Historical context: Jesus was in town for the Passover, a pilgrimage feast in which people would travel for long distances to bring offerings to the temple. Because of the distance, most people would not be able to bring animals for the required sacrifice with them. Leviticus 1 and 3 list cattle, sheep, and doves as part of the required animals for burning at the temple as religious offerings. Therefore, in order to participate in the festival, there would need to be animals for purchase available to the pilgrims. Additionally, the temple tax couldn’t be paid in Greek or Roman coinage, because those coins included pictures of the emperor, which were forbidden, so foreign coins would need to be exchanged for local coin. Having animal sales and money changers were not solely corrupt, the purpose was to aid people in worship. But like so many things, these practices seem to have gotten away from their initial intention of aiding in worship.
• The role of the disciples in this story is to act as witnesses, framing how the reader is to interpret the events. V. 17 references Psalm 69:9, “It is zeal for your house that has consumed me; the insults of those who insult you have fallen on me.” But the Gospel makes an important theological alteration to the verse from Psalm 69, setting it in the future tense (“will consume me”) instead of the Psalm’s past tense (“has consumed me”). This shifts the story into a passion prediction of Jesus being “consumed” at his crucifixion instead of a story about the destruction of the temple (though historically, that also happened).
• V. 18, “sign” (semeion) is the word used in John’s Gospel to describe Jesus’ miracles. Here the demand for “a sign” is about questioning Jesus’ authority. “The Jews” in this verse refer specifically to the religious leadership in the temple who question Jesus and do not know him.
• Only in John’s Gospel does Jesus predict the destruction of the Temple. In the synoptics, it is ascribed to Jesus by false witnesses during the trial at his passion (Matthew 26:61; Mark 14:58) and taunts at the cross (Matthew 27:40; Mark 15:29; Acts 6:14).
• The “forty-six” years claim in v. 20 is historically plausible. Construction on the temple began in approximately 19 BCE during the reign of Herod the Great. 46 years would place the date of this event at 27 CE, which would make sense since in John the event happens at the start of Jesus’ three year ministry.
• Verse 18-20 employ a classic Johaninne narrative technique of misunderstanding. The Jews response in v. 20 demonstrated they only understand the surface level of Jesus’ conversation, that of the physical temple structure. But the verb Jesus used in v. 19 about raising the temple back up, egeiro, is also used to speak of resurrection (John 2:22; 5:21; 12:1, 9, 17: 21-14), giving the sentence a second, more symbolic meaning.
• V. 21 makes what was hinted in v. 19 clear, “he was speaking of the temple of his body.” In Judaism, the Temple was God’s physical location on earth, so to call Jesus’ body “the temple” was to suggest that Jesus is now God’s physical location on earth. The Fourth Evangelist’s commentary in v. 21 makes clear to the reader what the religious leaders missed, that Jesus has the authority to challenge the temple system because Jesus is God’s physical presence on earth.
Works Sourced:
O’ Day, Gail. “The Gospel of John.” The New Interpreter’s Bible Volume IX. Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 1995.
1. Read passage aloud. What did you notice in the reading? What words or phrase caught your attention?
2. Read passage aloud a second time. What questions would you ask the text?
3. Read passage aloud a third time. What do you hear God calling you to do or be in response to this text?
Interesting Ideas to Consider:
• Unlike in the synoptic, in John’s Gospel, Jesus traveled to Jerusalem three times. In 2:13, after the intimate setting of the beginning of John’s Gospel with Jesus in Galilee surrounded by friends and family, Jesus made his first trip to the Temple in Jerusalem, the geographical and spiritual center of the Jewish faith. The story of Jesus cleansing the Temple contrasts Jesus’ authority with the authority of the religious leaders.
• The story of Jesus cleansing the temple appears in all four Gospels. However, the synoptics all place this incident as part of his passion, whereas John locates it at the very beginning of his ministry. The synoptics are probably more historically accurate; it is hard to imagine the religious authorities tolerating such a blatantly challenging act for long. In John, locating the incident here frames it as the completion of Jesus’ introduction. At the wedding at Cana, Jesus revealed his grace and glory by turning water into wine, highlighting the new life Jesus offers. In the temple cleansing, Jesus demonstrated the challenge and threat that new life poses to the existing order.
• In the Greek, verses 14-16 are all one long, complex sentence, serving to create a mood of urgency and haste, underscoring the intensity of Jesus’ actions. “Just as Jesus never hesitates as he moves through the Temple, so, too, vv. 14-16 never hesitate.”
• John’s description of the temple scene is much fuller and more dramatic than that of the synoptics, describing a scene of sheep and cattle, and Jesus driving out humans and animals with a whip.
• Historical context: Jesus was in town for the Passover, a pilgrimage feast in which people would travel for long distances to bring offerings to the temple. Because of the distance, most people would not be able to bring animals for the required sacrifice with them. Leviticus 1 and 3 list cattle, sheep, and doves as part of the required animals for burning at the temple as religious offerings. Therefore, in order to participate in the festival, there would need to be animals for purchase available to the pilgrims. Additionally, the temple tax couldn’t be paid in Greek or Roman coinage, because those coins included pictures of the emperor, which were forbidden, so foreign coins would need to be exchanged for local coin. Having animal sales and money changers were not solely corrupt, the purpose was to aid people in worship. But like so many things, these practices seem to have gotten away from their initial intention of aiding in worship.
• The role of the disciples in this story is to act as witnesses, framing how the reader is to interpret the events. V. 17 references Psalm 69:9, “It is zeal for your house that has consumed me; the insults of those who insult you have fallen on me.” But the Gospel makes an important theological alteration to the verse from Psalm 69, setting it in the future tense (“will consume me”) instead of the Psalm’s past tense (“has consumed me”). This shifts the story into a passion prediction of Jesus being “consumed” at his crucifixion instead of a story about the destruction of the temple (though historically, that also happened).
• V. 18, “sign” (semeion) is the word used in John’s Gospel to describe Jesus’ miracles. Here the demand for “a sign” is about questioning Jesus’ authority. “The Jews” in this verse refer specifically to the religious leadership in the temple who question Jesus and do not know him.
• Only in John’s Gospel does Jesus predict the destruction of the Temple. In the synoptics, it is ascribed to Jesus by false witnesses during the trial at his passion (Matthew 26:61; Mark 14:58) and taunts at the cross (Matthew 27:40; Mark 15:29; Acts 6:14).
• The “forty-six” years claim in v. 20 is historically plausible. Construction on the temple began in approximately 19 BCE during the reign of Herod the Great. 46 years would place the date of this event at 27 CE, which would make sense since in John the event happens at the start of Jesus’ three year ministry.
• Verse 18-20 employ a classic Johaninne narrative technique of misunderstanding. The Jews response in v. 20 demonstrated they only understand the surface level of Jesus’ conversation, that of the physical temple structure. But the verb Jesus used in v. 19 about raising the temple back up, egeiro, is also used to speak of resurrection (John 2:22; 5:21; 12:1, 9, 17: 21-14), giving the sentence a second, more symbolic meaning.
• V. 21 makes what was hinted in v. 19 clear, “he was speaking of the temple of his body.” In Judaism, the Temple was God’s physical location on earth, so to call Jesus’ body “the temple” was to suggest that Jesus is now God’s physical location on earth. The Fourth Evangelist’s commentary in v. 21 makes clear to the reader what the religious leaders missed, that Jesus has the authority to challenge the temple system because Jesus is God’s physical presence on earth.
Works Sourced:
O’ Day, Gail. “The Gospel of John.” The New Interpreter’s Bible Volume IX. Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 1995.
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