Are You Able to Drink My Cup?

Palm Sunday is a glorious day for Christians, as we celebrate Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem. But we tend to forget that although next Sunday is Easter, a day even more glorious than Palm Sunday, this week leads through Good Friday. This sermon is a reminder that we cannot claim the glory of Easter if we are not willing to accept the suffering of Good Friday, as difficult as that may be.

We can learn a lot from looking closely at photographs. Have you ever taken the time to compare one of the President of the United States that was taken at his inauguration with one that was taken as he left office? The differences are stunning. The inauguration pictures usually show a man who is strong and vital, full of enthusiasm for the job ahead of him. But later photos are very different. His hair is grey. His face is lined, and the set of his jaw has a certain grimness about it. The excitement of being the President has been replaced by the reality of the responsibility that the job carries, and the glory of the office is long gone. I imagine that it’s only after the inauguration when the first couple of security briefings are held that reality truly sets in, and the glow of the campaign gives way to the decisions that must be made in the shadows of worldwide unrest, political turmoil, and terrorist violence.

On the first Palm Sunday, as Jesus rode into Jerusalem, his followers were excited by the glow that accompanied the little parade. They were expecting big things from Jesus, big things indeed; and the crowd of onlookers were caught up in those expectations. You all know the story! (Luke 19:28-40) They welcomed Jesus as the Messiah, the Son of David; the great King who would restore their kingdom and bring peace and prosperity to all of God’s people. And Jesus didn’t disagree with those expectations. When the Pharisees told him to quiet his followers, Jesus responded, “If these were to keep quiet, the very stones would cry out!” Why not be caught up in expectations of glory? After all, Jesus’ followers had watched him do marvelous things, time and time again. They had seen him heal blind men with a touch, and lepers with just a word. They had heard him teach, and marveled at his wisdom. They had watched him feed crowds of hungry people with just a couple of loaves of bread and a few fish. So naturally, they were anticipating the glory that they would share when Jesus was finally crowned king.

Most of Jesus’ disciples were content to wait until the day of his glory arrived. But not James and John! They took matters into their own hands. One day, they came to Jesus with their mother and asked if they might sit at his right and left hands. (Matthew 20:20-28) In other words, they wanted to be the Vice-President and the Secretary of State in Jesus’ administration. But instead of giving them an answer, Jesus asked them a question: “Can you drink the cup that I am going to drink?” In other words, could they handle the job? They replied, “Of course we can!” All the fame… all the fanfares that announced their arrival at state occasions… all the banquets and the parties… all the prestige that goes with being Jesus’ right- and left-hand men… You bet, they could handle that! But Jesus replied, “You don’t know what you are asking.” Jesus wasn’t talking about drinking a cup of glory, but a cup of suffering. James and John didn’t yet realize that as Jesus’ assistants, the glory of their job would pale beside its responsibility. Jesus wasn’t going to be an ordinary king. Jesus wouldn’t be crowned with gold, but with thorns. He wouldn’t be lifted up on an ivory throne, but on a wooden cross. He wouldn’t be rubbing elbows with diplomats and heads of state; he would be eating with outcasts and rejects. And the menu would be the bread of his body broken on their behalf and his blood poured out for everyone. Being in Jesus’ administration doesn’t mean glory; it means suffering and rejection.

So, were James and John able to handle that job? Yes, they were; and they eventually became leaders in a Christian community that did indeed endure suffering, persecution, and rejection. But more important than the historical question of whether James and John were able to drink the cup of suffering is the question of whether we can handle it! Can we get past the privilege of being a Christian to accept the suffering that comes with it? Jesus’ question has echoed through the ages, and every Christian has to decide the answer for himself or for herself.

                                                                                                                          

What is your answer? Are you able to drink the cup that Jesus drank? Will you embrace the suffering that he did? We have plenty of opportunities to do that, you know.

Do we resist hate and bigotry and violence, even when it is embraced by some of our political leaders? Do we stand in solidarity with victims of racism and sexism and homophobia? Can we drink that cup?

Are we speaking out of behalf of the Muslim community when all of them – even those who serve honorably in our military forces – are accused of being terrorists? Can we drink that cup?

Are we helping single mothers and orphaned children and disabled veterans to get the medical treatments that they need, even when some of the privileged members of our society condemn them for being lazy? Can we drink that cup?

Palm Sunday is a wonderful day! I hope that all of us – all Christians, everywhere – rejoice in the glory that surrounded Jesus as he rode into Jerusalem as king. But we must never forget that the road to the glory of an empty tomb leads through the cross. If we are able to drink the cup that Jesus drank, then at the end of our road, we will find glory indeed!

What do you want me to do for you?

What do you want me to do for you? What would your answer be if Jesus asked you that right now? Would you tell him? Or would you mumble "Oh, nothing, thanks... I'm fine." This sermon considers the story of the blind man (Luke 18:35-43) who asked Jesus for healing. It may suggest some ways that you, yourself, need to be healed.

“What do you want me to do for you?” That’s the question that Jesus asked the blind beggar who called out to him from the side of the road. (Luke 18:35-43) “What do you want me to do for you?” When we read this little story, we are likely to think, “What a silly question! Surely Jesus knew that this man wanted to be healed of his blindness. Why, his life must have been miserable! All he could do was beg for charity along the road where people would see him when they passed by. Why did Jesus even bother to ask that question?” Maybe it’s because Jesus knew that that sometimes the healing people want – the healing that they need – isn’t what we think it is. Now, the blind man in this story did indeed ask for his sight. But he might have asked for something very different. Let’s rewind that story and stop it right after Jesus asks the question, “What do you want me to do for you?” Then let’s imagine what else that blind man might have asked of Jesus.

He might have asked to be healed of resentment. Let’s imagine that his blindness came about after his neighbor’s donkey kicked him in the head one afternoon. From that day on, he has simmered with hate towards that neighbor. He knows that the resentment filling him is only poisoning his own life; but he can’t get past it. When Jesus asked him, “What do you want me to do for you,” he might have answered, “Lord, I’ve learned to live with my blindness; but my hate is ruining my life. Help me to get rid of it!”

Or he might have asked that Jesus heal a broken relationship. I suspect that he has no family now; and maybe it was his own fault. He knows what kind of a man he was back in the day. He was so full of himself that he abused his wife and neglected his children; and one day, they simply up and left him. His blindness has showed him all too well how much he needs other people; and now he knows what a fool he was. More than anything, he would like be reunited with the wife and children who left him so long ago. When Jesus asked, “What do you want me to do for you,” he might have said, “I want to reconcile with my family. Can you help me do that?”

Or he might have asked Jesus to heal an old wound that has been festering since his childhood. Oh, it’s not a wound that the world can see. No, it’s a wound in his soul. Imagine that many years ago when he was a child – way, way back when – his actions contributed to the death of a close friend. He never meant for it to happen. It was completely unintentional, the end of a chain of events that was due to childhood foolishness and bad decisions. But he has never forgiven himself. For all these years, he has been convinced that he is not worth anyone else’s love; and his blindness is proof that even God doesn’t love him. “When Jesus asked, “What do you want me to do for you,” he might have said, “Lord, can you just love me – and help me to love myself?”

Physical wounds, as crippling as they may be, aren’t the only conditions that keep us from living the full, joyful lives that God wants for us. We suffer from all kinds of other wounds, too: emotional, mental, and spiritual. Jesus is ready to help to heal us from even those wounds. Right now, Jesus is asking you, “What do you want me to do for you?” Why don’t you tell him?

Where Is Your Faith?

Did you know that "faith" is not a list of beliefs, but the basis of the way that we live our lives? If you want to know more, this sermon will get you started.

Suppose someone asked you to explain “faith.” What would you say? Take a moment to consider that. Is faith a set of beliefs? Is your faith the total of the facts that you learned in Sunday school? If that’s the case, then I could summarize my own faith in a statement of faith like the Apostles’ Creed. I had to memorize the Apostles’ Creed before I could be confirmed into church membership. Our own United Church of Christ doesn’t emphasize creeds; but I’ll bet that some of you know the Apostles’ Creed anyway. It starts, “I believe in God the Father Almighty, maker of heaven and earth; and in Jesus Christ his only son, our Lord…” and goes on to summarize Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection. It ends like this: “I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy catholic church (meaning “the universal church”), the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting.” The Apostles’ Creed is a good little summary of what most Christians believe. But is a set of beliefs about Jesus really faith in Jesus?

According to the New Testament, “faith” is not just a set of beliefs that we tick off like items on a grocery list. The Greek word that is usually translated as “faith” actually means trust. Now, trust certainly begins with believing something; but it doesn’t end there. Trust is the confidence that we can absolutely rely on someone. If we say that we have “faith” in Jesus Christ, we are going way beyond what we believe about the facts of his life, death, and resurrection. “Faith” in Jesus is trusting that his actions will be consistent with his words, and then living as though we believe it. Here’s what I mean. Some of you may have participated in a “trust fall” at one time or another during your life. They often take place in team-building settings like church camp. In a trust fall, someone is asked to fall backwards into the arms of a group of friends who have promised to catch her. Now, believing that those friends could catch you is one thing; but believing that they will catch you is another thing altogether. Believing in their teamwork and strength is just that – belief. Actually falling backwards while trusting that they will catch you is faith.

So, what about our faith in Jesus? Do we really trust that he will do what he says he will do for us – or do we just believe a lot of facts about him? Most of the time, I suspect that our trust in him – our faith – is a lot weaker than we think it is. The disciples thought that they trusted in Jesus. After all, they had seen many miraculous healings while they were following him. They had seen him do what he claimed to be able to do time and time again. But then, they got in a boat; and all of a sudden, things were different. In the story we heard this morning, (Luke 8:22-25), their boat was taking on water like a leaky sieve; and all the while, Jesus was snoring away in the back of the boat like a baby in a cradle. Finally, the disciples were so scared that they rudely shook him awake. After he blinked the sleep out of his eyes, he stopped the storm with just a few words. I can almost hear him frowning over the bow of the boat and saying, “Oh, cool it! Settle down!” And, of course, the storm did just that. The winds stopped and the sea became calm. Then Jesus turned to his disciples. “Where is your faith?” he asked them. The Message Bible translates his question, “Don’t you trust me?” That’s the heart of it, right there. “Don’t you trust me?” It was his question to his disciples; and he asks us the very same question today.

Last week, my sermon considered Jesus’ advice to us about worrying. I said then that we could calm our worrying if we did three things: pray, get help from others, and then do what we can about the worrisome situation. But there’s something else that we need to do; and it’s the hardest part of all. We need to have faith in Jesus. We need to trust him to work in the situation on our behalf. In the words of the song from the animated movie Frozen, we need to “Let It Go!” Let it go! If we truly have faith in Jesus, we’ll trust that he’ll help us out. But there’s an issue deeper than whether we worry or not; and it involves our behavior. If we trust in Jesus – and we all say that we do – then we will live the way that he wants us to live. And let’s not kid ourselves: not very many of us do. It’s not that we don’t know how to live that way. We all know what Jesus said on the Sermon on the Mount. We will be happy by being humble, by yearning for righteousness, by showing mercy, and by being peacemakers. But those things are very hard to do because we’re afraid of what will happen if we live the way that Jesus asks us to live! We’re afraid that Jesus won’t catch us if we fall over backward while we’re living the way that he wants us to live.

Let me give you an example. Let’s say that you are employed in a small business. One day, your boss announces that you will no longer sell your product to a minority group. It doesn’t really matter what that group is; it could be people of color, or gay couples, or Muslims. The point is that your business is going to discriminate against someone. Oh, you’re not going to advertise it openly. But if someone of that minority wants to buy your goods or services… well, you just won’t be able to handle their order. So what do you do? If you have real faith in Jesus, you will object. But that comes with risks, doesn’t it? You might get fired. Your friends might not associate with you anymore. Your standing in the community might take a nose dive. But you know that discrimination against any of God’s children is wrong. Will you risk losing finances, friends, and status? More to the point, do you trust in Jesus to stand with you whatever happens; or do you play it safe and say nothing? That’s the kind of situation where Jesus’ question “Do you trust me?” starts to pinch.

Do we trust Jesus enough to follow him wherever he might go? Do we trust him to catch us in his arms when we fall backwards? Do we insist on living like the world says we should – as prideful, violent, judgmental people who think that they have to control everything around them to be safe; or do we trust Jesus’ assurance that living as humble, merciful, peaceful, righteous people will fill our lives with joy? “Where is your faith?” Jesus asks us. “Do you trust me?” As we watch him walk towards the cross during this Lenten season, it might be the most important question that he asks us.