Should's

The scripture today is from the suffering servant songs of the second section of Isaiah.  The Prophet was speaking to the people of Israel while they were living in exile in Babylon.  He reminds them of their purpose and identity. 

Listen to the Word of God.

Isaiah 42:1-7

Should’s

Yesterday was Palm Sunday.  We remembered the celebration of the people of Jerusalem proclaiming Jesus as king.  People cheered, ‘Hosanna’ loosely translated is ‘Yippee!’  They waved palms, because foam fingers weren’t available.  Some people call Palm Sunday, Little Easter.  Lots of pageantry and the parking’s better. 

But why was our Lord, at the center of the hoopla so quiet?  And why did he weep over Jerusalem?

It’s easy.  People got it wrong.  People always have.  They got it wrong in Israel when things were fine.  The got it wrong in Babylon when they were captives.  They got it wrong in Jesus time.  They liked comfort.  They liked the status quo, don’t rock the boat.  They had a system, a law, a list of goods and bads, of shoulds and should not’s.  They could keep score.  They knew who was a winner and a loser, acceptable and unacceptable.  All those other people.  Sound familiar?

Isaiah told them no.  He reminded them they weren’t chosen to keep score.  They weren’t chosen to be winners with God on their side.  Everybody else did that.  If they were to be special, to be God’s people, the ‘should’ needed to be this:  “I have given you as a covenant, a promise to all the people, to be a light to the nations.”  The should was to live the promise of God, not by keeping score or by winning but by living in mercy and in hope.

We, this nation, were given a gift by the people of France.  She stands overlooking the towers of Manhattan, Lady Liberty.  She towers above the harbor.  After 9-11, when I worked at Ground Zero, I was angry and afraid.  We all were.  Most of us had lost someone.  Every morning before we took the ferry from Jersey to Lower Manhattan, I would stand and look at her lifting her torch.  I considered the message on her foundation.  “Send me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teaming shores.  Send them the tempest-tossed to me.  I lift my lamp beside the Golden Door.”

I realized that she stands, she is founded on mercy and hope.  That is her identity.  And I lost my anger and my fear.  I remembered who I was.  I was and am a child of her light. 

Jesus came to Jerusalem and witnessed to mercy and hope.  He invited all to share in that vision, the vision of Isaiah.  He invited them to be a fulfillment of God’s promise, of God’s covenant.  But they wanted a winner.  So they lifted him on a cross.

We have Lady Liberty.  We have the cross.  They both invite us to be people of mercy and hope.  We claim the symbols.  But are we witnessing to God’s Good News of mercy and hope or will we stick to business as usual and back the winner?  The choice goes on forever.  It is ours.  It is mine.  It is yours. 

It is Holy Week.  Look to the cross.  Dare to be a light to the nations.  Dare to be God’s Good News as you follow our Lord.  That the people of the world might say of all of us, “Thanks be to God.”

Amen.

 

 

Grieving

I had surgery just two weeks ago.  According to my clock it was six months going on five years.  I was feeling better last week and persuaded my lovely to go to the Azalea festival.  Wilmington is known for it.  It's a big deal and we'd never been.  So we went.  Had a great time.  That night I started to bleed again and had to take a pain pill.  It set me back a mile. 
Now, I'm raging against the limitations and the realities of a six to eight week recuperation.  What do you mean I can't mow the lawn.  The visiting nurse smiles like the Mona Lisa and rolls her eyes at my wife.
But it occurred to me that there's more going on here than pain and weakness.  It's Holy Week and I'm not in the center of a community's remembrance of Jesus' passion.  It has been my normality for forty-one years and suddenly I'm an innocent bystander.  I'm grieving.
Retirement has bumps, and no matter how you plan and carefully consider the edges that will be difficult.  No matter how you empathize with the others you've helped through their change of life times, you get ambushed. 
It's not a plan, it's life.  Tis what it Tis.  The gift is given and whether it is what you wanted or not, it's the one you've got. 
I've had trouble with my body before but I was bluntly reminded by one of the wise visiting nurses that I'd never had gut surgery.  So there noobie, sit down and shut up and give your body a chance to heal.  It won't be pretty and it won't be fun, but you can either help or hurt yourself.  Choose.
I never knew they were trained in the martial arts.
And here I am in Holy Week, closely resembling a slug.  But.....  But......
None of us can really understand someone else's pain or anguish.  And that includes our own when we haven't been there yet. 
My protestations to no avail, I will endeavor to learn, even at my advanced age and wonder in my learning if Jesus expected the extent of the pain he endured. 
But then, he didn't have a visiting nurse and .....
And he went ahead and gave himself to the pain. 

On another tack, the local pastor asked me to preach twice this week at two noon services.  I got it done.  The homilies are included, for better or worse.