Sermon for 3rd Sunday of Easter

Over the course of my years in college, grad school, and seminary, as well as in several ministry opportunities, I’ve had the privilege of living in a number of different cities throughout the country. As for many of us I’m sure, one of the rights of passage of moving to a new place is getting to know the local TV stations and news broadcasts that provide information about what’s going on in the area.

And while each city’s news has its own local flair and personality, something interesting that I’ve noticed is that pretty much without exception each place has at least one station whose daily broadcast is entitled “Eyewitness News.” Implicitly, these particular broadcasts emphasize the quality of their reporting by associating it with “eyewitnesses” or “witnesses”—the unstated assumption being that the news that’s likely to be most trustworthy and reliable, is the kind that comes from those who have seen or heard or experienced an event with their own senses. These are presumed to be the most credible sources of information and thus the best indicators of a quality newscast.

Witnesses are not just important for television broadcasts, however. Throughout our society the testimony of witnesses to events is valued and often held up as a standard. To observe this dynamic at work, we have only to look to eyewitness testimonies in court and government hearings, or testimonials offered in advertisements for products, services, or destinations, among any number of other examples we could all probably think of.

In even subtler ways we often act as witnesses for each other in our daily lives. We might recommend a movie or TV show that we found particularly enjoyable, for example, or we might rave about a new restaurant or the virtues of a school or a business.

Of course, one of the most recognizable types of witnessing we might be familiar with is the kind associated with religious faith. Often in popular culture this sort of witness gets a bad rap and probably rightly so in some cases. Many of us are likely familiar with so-called witnesses who like to stand on street corners, often with large signs and posters, condemning passersby and invoking divine wrath and eternal punishment.

At least for me, that kind of religious witnessing has a very negative effect, turning me away from whatever message the witness might be trying to offer, and having the unintended effect of affording a lesson in patience and non-aggression.

Still, despite its more obnoxious and hostile manifestations, serving as a witness of faith still has the potential at least to be just as important as any eyewitness testimony on TV or in court. And thankfully we have an indication of what a more authentic sort of religious witness might look like in today’s readings from scripture.

The risen Jesus himself comes to the disciples in today’s gospel, shares a meal with them, and assures them that they will, in his words, be “witnesses of these things” before others. In other words, once he is no longer there bodily with them, they will carry on his ministry to the world, caring for the sick, raising up the downtrodden, and standing up for those who have no voice.

And by God’s grace, through the wonder of the Spirit’s coming at Pentecost, we know from the Acts of the Apostles that that’s exactly what happens. Peter and John venture out and simply by their presence bring healing and wholeness to folk who had been on the margins of their society. As 1 John also reminds us, disciples like Peter and John and so many others would be witnesses as well through the kind of lives they led—the sort of personal, moral, and ethical decisions they made day in and day out that added up to the witness of lives profoundly influenced and shaped by faith in Christ.

This was an important, life-changing truth in the early church and it remains one for all of us as 21st-century followers of the risen Christ as well. Like the early disciples, we too have been called and commissioned through our baptism into Jesus to serve as his presence in the world—to be witnesses to our own contemporaries of the transformative power of faith.

Now, to do this in our own time and place might look a little different from the 1st century. We might not go around speaking to crowds of unbelievers or literally raising the dead, but there are equally wonderful and miraculous ways that God can work through us even today.

Take, for instance, the wonder of modern social media. Have you ever considered sharing with your friends on Facebook about something that’s going on at St. Mark’s? Or checking in from here on FourSquare? Or Tweeting or sharing on Tumblr about a social justice initiative that either you’re involved with personally, or that the ELCA is sponsoring? Just as the first followers of Christ made an impact for good on their communities by sharing the good news, so we too can discover ways that make sense for us to share our faith in our own context.

And really, there’s lots to share. In just the short month that I’ve been at St. Mark’s I’ve been moved by the witness and testimony of various community members—for example, describing the profound impact made on them by last year’s trip to visit Pastor Norma and the Cordero de Dios community in El Salvador. Or relating the powerful testimony of Claire Anastas, the Palestinian Christian woman who spent time here at the parish and is working to support the needs of her community in the Holy Land. Or the recent presentations at the Adult Forum by Pastor Hans on the issue of prison reform and social justice and the ELCA’s draft statement.

These are just a few of the ways that my own life has been changed thanks to the eyewitness testimony of people here at St. Mark’s, who themselves were passing on the witness of others. Just imagine what we can do then, like the first disciples, as we too learn to share what our faith means to us in all the creative ways our 21st-century world affords.

Who knows, we may be one Tweet or one conversation or one encounter—whether virtual or actual—away from the next step God is calling each of us to make in fulfillment of Jesus’ call to be “witnesses of these things…”

Palm Sunday Sermon

“When Christ calls someone, he bids them come and die.”

These words, spoken by the 20th century theologian and martyr Dietrich Bonhoeffer in his book The Cost of Discipleship, illumine a vital truth for us as Christians. Whatever our circumstances, whatever culture, time, place, or era we find ourselves in, if we would follow Jesus then we too will experience challenges and difficulties in our journeys. We too will be asked to sacrifice and to give of ourselves. We too will be bid to come and die, whether metaphorically or literally, in order to rise again.

This summons, this call to follow after Jesus even to the cross, is the heart of the message of the Scripture readings we have shared together today. And, in many ways, it’s a difficult message to hear. To humble ourselves and to give of ourselves without counting the cost is not a theme that’s always valued in contemporary North American culture.

On the contrary, often the value that’s highlighted in popular culture and entertainment is something very different. Whether in movies or on TV, or in biographies and news coverage, often what’s celebrated in contemporary culture is something along the lines of the traditional “rags to riches” story many of us have likely grown up hearing. Usually the narrative begins with the great man or woman’s early trials and adversity, following then with an account of the unusual, even superhuman determination and acumen that brings them inexorably to eventual glory, wealth, fame, and success.

While there’s nothing wrong in and of itself with this narrative, the problem is with what’s often an underlying assumption—namely, that life is really all about one thing: me. I, as an individual, can pull myself up like whichever hero it is that I’m worshiping, and achieve similar fame and recognition. I am the arbiter of my own destiny. I, in the end, am really all that matters.

And yet, as we all know, in the end this kind of attitude—this sort of approach to life, despite its outward attractiveness, is illusory. We might gain fame for awhile. We might receive adulation and fortune. But in the end it’s all fleeting. Some day we will come to die, and all the arduous investments that we’ve made as individuals in this “I,” this great “me,” will fade away and eventually disappear.

Jesus, as our readings today clearly demonstrate, shows us a quite different sort of path. As St. Paul puts it, “though he was in the form of God, Jesus did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but rather emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness.”

Jesus, who is Lord, who is the beloved of God, chose not to exalt but to humble himself—to come among us as a servant; to give of himself rather than to seek glory and fame; to suffer in the very real and concrete ways that St. Mark narrates today in the gospel. Why does Jesus do this? What lesson does he wish to teach us?

I think the heart of the matter goes back to the rags-to-riches story. Rather than investing so much of our time and energy in building up our individual riches, our individual glory, our individual selves, Jesus’ life suggests that we turn the narrative on its head—that instead of rags-to-riches, it’s really riches-to-rags that’s a far more compelling journey to make.

In each of our lives, this is likely to take on a number of different forms. For some of us, following in Jesus’ way might mean reaching out to those who are materially poor and sharing generously of what we have. For others, it might mean working for social justice and peace with the talents and abilities we’ve been given. For still others, it could mean dying to our own carefully-laid plans or ambitions if we know that’s what we’re called to do in order to help others.

Whatever our paths look like in following Jesus, what they share in common is that they bring us out from the myopia of our individual self-obsessions and awaken us to solidarity with others.

This is a journey that won’t be easy. Like Jesus we too will face trials and hardships in our paths of discipleship. But also like Jesus, the more we allow God’s call to touch us and transform us, the more natural it will become for us simply to follow and to give. Like a mother unafraid to give her own life for that of her child, or like a friend ready to lay down his life in love for a neighbor, the more we follow in the way of Jesus the more our lives will come to resemble his.

For, in the end, it’s really our choice. We can live for ourselves and grasp and cling at life until, begrudgingly, in the end we’re forced to die and give it all up. Or we can chose the path of Jesus—the journey of dying to ourselves and awakening to solidarity and interconnectedness with others.

As Jesus himself will show us during this holiest of weeks, the way of life is one that challenges us to give ourselves away—to die to selfishness and to live with a more ample vision; to serve and to give even when it’s difficult; to love without counting the cost; “to come and to die,” as Bonhoeffer reminds us, not because life has finally robbed us of our illusions of grandeur, but because we’ve heard and accepted Christ’s joyful summons—to give ourselves away and in so doing to discover that life has only just begun…