Reality and Resurrection

 This week’s practice sermon uses the readings from the lectionary, particularly the following reading from the Gospel of Luke.

Luke 14:1, 7-14

On one occasion, when Jesus was going to the house of a leader of the Pharisees to eat a meal on the sabbath, they were watching him closely.

When he noticed how the guests chose the places of honor, he told them a parable. "When you are invited by someone to a wedding banquet, do not sit down at the place of honor, in case someone more distinguished than you has been invited by your host; and the host who invited both of you may come and say to you, `Give this person your place,' and then in disgrace you would start to take the lowest place. But when you are invited, go and sit down at the lowest place so that when your host comes, he may say to you, `Friend, move up higher; then you will be honored in the presence of all who sit at the table with you. For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted."

He also said to the one who had invited him, "When you give a luncheon or a dinner, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or rich neighbors, in case they may invite you in return, and you would be repaid. But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind. And you will be blessed because they cannot repay you, for you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous."

Just a reminder, lest we forget, Jesus was Jewish. But, like Christianity today, Judaism in the first century was diverse. There were different groups with differing beliefs and practices, like the Pharisees, the Sadducees, the Essenes, and others. 

As we read last week, Jesus was raised to be a good Jewish boy who knew his Hebrew scripture. Though they were sometimes criticized in the Gospels, the Pharisees were Jesus' peeps. Despite the negative press conferred upon the Pharisees by Luke in his gospel, in the first-century Jewish context, they were considered to be highly respected teachers. According to one source, there may have been as many as 6000 Pharisees living around the time of the first century. They were a powerful group that wielded influence with the political authorities of the day. Some of the better-known Pharisees are Nicodemus, Joseph of Arimathea, and the Apostle Paul. The Pharisees were a sect of Judaism that had disputes, not so much with Jesus but with the more elitist Sadducees. Among their differences was a belief in bodily resurrection, which the Sadducees fervently disputed. The Pharisees, as mentioned in the text from this week, were watching Jesus closely. No doubt, his miracles and healings had captured their attention. No doubt they wanted to know what made Jesus tick. They may have even wanted to protect him.

Nicodemus, Joseph of Arimathea, and Paul were Pharisees who played key roles in the Jesus story, using their money, power, and influence to move the Christian mission forward. One might go so far as to say these three, each in their own way, risked everything to ensure resurrection.

So, it’s no surprise that Jesus would be invited to dine with the Pharisees, maybe after preaching and teaching in a Synagogue, as he and his disciples made their way toward Jerusalem. Much like last week’s Gospel text, Jesus immediately picks up on the body language of the guests at the meal, noticing how they jockey for power with the seating arrangement. In classic Jesus form, he busts out a parable, telling the group about proper etiquette while attending a wedding banquet. “Don’t dare take the best seat, lest you risk being sent to the children’s table. No, instead, take the lowest seat, which will secure you a higher seat at the head table with the big wigs.”

Then, I imagine Jesus took the host of the dinner aside, looked him straight in the eye, and gave him the secret sauce he had been waiting for. “Next time,” Jesus confided, “invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind. They are the ones you must serve. That is how you learn about resurrection.” 

The song You Raise Me Up, performed by Josh Groban, always gives me goosebumps when I hear it. His voice is just like butter, the really delicious, creamy, fattening kind. 

When I am down and, oh my soul, so weary; 

When troubles come, and my heart burdened be; 

Then, I am still and wait here in the silence, 

Until you come and sit awhile with me. 

(Sing with me)

 

You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains; 

You raise me up to walk on stormy seas. 

I am strong when I am on your shoulders. 

You raise me up... To more than I can be.

 

When you become a postulant for holy orders and begin seminary, the Church expects you to find a spiritual director to help you navigate the process. Personally, I think it’s also helpful to have one or two close friends to bounce spiritual ideas around with. The Celts call this friendship Anam Cara, or soul friend. My Anam Cara is a precious longtime friendship. Over the years, we have shared some of the hardest parts of our lives and the most joyful ones. Together we try to discover where God is showing up in each of our stories. She is such a good listener that she detects, from what I say and don’t say, God, working in my life when I cannot see it for myself. I try to do the same for her. After our conversations, I always feel better and have a broader perspective. There have been times, however, when we have spoken hard truths to one another that were difficult to both say and hear. For example, on one occasion, I called my friend to ask if she felt I was being selfish in my handling of a certain situation. She hesitated for a brief moment and then said tentatively, “Sorry, but actually, yes.” I was momentarily taken aback. But she was right. I love her for that. She listened. And she responded with truth that was born of love for me.

 

The Pharisees listen to Jesus as he shares difficult truths with them. 

“He who exalts himself will be humbled. He who humbles himself will be exalted.” 

 

Sometimes, life humbles us.

 

There’s another song that gives me goosebumps, The Wind Beneath My Wings, sung by Bette Midler. It came on the car radio at a particular moment on the worst day of my life, as my family and I left Children’s Hospital in Pittsburgh after the sudden death of our six-year-old daughter, Meghan. I was in a daze, as you can imagine, wondering how in the world I would go on without her. This song came on the radio. It was a song we sang along to often as we drove together to all the regular places – school, the grocery store, piano lessons, and her frequent medical appointments. In the car, we would sing full-out. She knew all the words. It was such a common, pleasant occurrence that I probably took it for granted. Until it was no more. 

 

In the car on that sad day, suddenly, I could sense Meghan’s presence. “Did you ever know you were my hero…” We had gone through so much to keep our daughter alive. “You’re everything I wish I could be.” It had been a long six years and, at the same time, far too short. “I can fly higher than an eagle.” As we drove home to Maryland in a fog of grief, “You are the wind beneath my wings” played over and over in my head. My long grief journey was just beginning, but for several moments I imagined my daughter was speaking (singing) to me from another realm, somehow saying, “Thank you. I love you. I am with you,” through Bette Midler, in a car somewhere on the outskirts of Pittsburgh, Pa. That strange but comforting awareness was pure grace. That’s the only way I know how to explain it.

 

Jesus knows how difficult it can be to be human and what a risk it is to be a disciple. He is willing to go the distance, all the way to the cross. But he knows the grief that remains for those who are left behind. And he knows the work that must be done to ensure the coming of the Kingdom, much of it thanklessly, covertly, behind the scenes. 

 

This is the humility that changes the world, the humility that is inspired by great love. We witness it in the love of a parent, a spouse, friend, teacher, coach, nurse, social worker, stranger, or even occasionally a Pharisee. This is the humility that listens and responds truthfully and the one who is open to receiving difficult truths. It is the humility that can help to ensure resurrection. 

 

As the Pharisees sat around the table with Jesus, perhaps as hungry for his words and teachings as his disciples, I imagine they did listen. I imagine some of them also grieved at his crucifixion. Luke’s Gospel tells a powerful story of Jesus, born a human, who lived and breathed and loved and grieved and probably felt goosebumps on occasion. After his death on the cross, Jesus shows up again in his resurrection body to let his disciples know it’s not over; that love doesn’t go away after death. I imagine his message to his beloved friends and followers: “Thank you. I love you. I am with you.” 

 

That horrific day in the car, when I needed it most, I somehow grasped the reality of resurrection. Not in my muddy, grief-stricken mind. In my humility, my heart picked up the transmission, and I received the unlikely gift of a love song from an empty tomb. At our very lowest, there is always hope. Everything bears within it the promise of resurrection. That also gives me goosebumps.

 

There is no life no life without its hunger

Each restless heart beats so imperfectly

But when you come, and I am filled with wonder

Sometimes, I think I glimpse eternity

You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains

You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas

And I am strong when I am on your shoulders

You raise me up, to more than I can be

You raise me up, to more than I can be

~~Music, Rof Lovland, Lyrics, Brendan Graham 

What does this practice sermon/reflection evoke in you? Where have you noticed signs of resurrection in your life? Is there a question for God, a prayer, or an action that is arising within you? 

Here is a yoga practice for moving through grief.