I think the insurance companies have my number for advertising. I actually enjoy watching a lot of their commercials, that is the funny ones. Farmer’s Hall of Claims, Allstate’s Mayhem guy and of course Geico with several different campaigns. Geico has one that really hits the spot with me and it really pushes their point. Don’t make bad decisions. They get at that point by playing a short “scene from a horror movie”. The four teens are running from the killer and they see a scary old house. “Let’s hide in the attic.” “No, the basement.” “Why don’t we just get in the running car?” “Are you crazy?” “I know, let’s hide behind those chainsaws.” It cuts to a large masked man who lifts his mask and shakes his head. It closes with a quick “Head to the cemetery.”
Horror movies truly do have their cliches. It drives me crazy watching horror or suspense movies to always see people run upstairs in a building. It’s always a dead end, unless you were in the spooky basement. Fighting from the high ground is a thing out on a battlefield, but in a building fleeing up leads to entrapment or a very dangerous plummet back to the ground for escape. I think it might be a part of human nature to feel that up equals safety. Trying to put as much distance as possible between us and perceived danger, all the while losing sight of the bigger picture and the broader implications of where our path or escape route leads.
Today’s first Gospel is all about a parade through Jerusalem, a triumphal entry. The people all gather around waving palm branches and spreading their garments on the road before Jesus. This passage has never before seemed foreign to me, that is until right now. Gathering, a parade, your clothes on the ground. Where’s the social distance, the sanitizer, the regard for your clothes touching the dirt road where who knows who or what has walked or what is on that road?
At our house, we can’t help but comment on the old shows when we see the actors committing an infraction of our current guidelines for public health. It’s so on the forefront of our minds, I believe. And, just like Martin Luther struggled during the plague, I struggle with the distancing and isolation seeming so contrary to our life in Christ. Aren’t we the people of community? The people of embracing the sick and anyone in need? The people whose shoulder you can cry on? The ones who show up and offer physical assistance in your time of need? The ones who comfort the elderly? Our little family in apartment 104 is growing lonely for interaction and my heart breaks for those in far greater need for contact than ourselves. It seems to feel in opposition to our values as followers of Jesus and members of the human race.
But is it? We are in that movie. Now is the time to not run up. Now is a time to think and reflect before we act and ask ourselves what action is the most beneficial and loving to our neighbor in the long run or in the bigger picture. Running up, out and around is a trap right now and Luther realized that many years ago, when he urged fellow christians to not become part of the problem. So what is the way of Christ right now. What is the Gospel saying to us right now? What’s the big picture? How do I love my neighbor who I can’t get together with?
The answer is in the second Gospel of the day. In the first Gospel, the people were all caught up in the moment, the parade, the shouting of “Hosannah” and the waving of branches. They were caught up in the idea of a powerful, military Messiah, a deliverer from their current political oppression. They want the power and the glory and as we find in the second Gospel, the reading of the Passion, they and we get something quite the opposite.
In the Passion we see a relinquishing of power or as theologians would say a kenosis, which means an emptying. It says in Philippians chapter 2 that Jesus emptied himself and took the form of a servant and became truly human. Jesus left behind the power of divinity to walk with us and to suffer and die like us. As followers of Christ who are thankful for Jesus giving up his life on the cross, God wants us to be pushed, to be driven to be propelled by the Holy Spirit to empty ourselves and become servants. The Passion is a far cry from the Hollywood blockbuster action hero that would pull themselves off the cross and then use it as a weapon to slay all their enemies accompanied by lots of slow motion and an amazing soundtrack. No, it’s quite different and seemingly anticlimactic and it calls us to follow that Jesus, the Jesus of the cross.
Brian Volck with the Ecclesia project writes, “He will suffer horribly. He will die in shame. We want to pass over this, we want to arrive at – and rest in – Easter. But there’s no way there except descent. The one way up is down. There’s no way to enter the fullness of the kingdom except through utter emptiness. The one way to exaltation is kenosis. We seek any way out but down. The way down means submitting to the uncertainty (from our point of view) of God’s will. It means loss of control, a way of unknowing. It means transformation in loneliness and darkness so complete it resembles death. Irony upon irony, we would rather stay as we are and be destroyed than be transformed and live. The way down for our churches means surrendering honor and embracing faithfulness, surrendering growth and embracing discipleship, surrendering power and embracing service.”
Those cliches from the horror movies come from a basis of truth, from our human tendency to flee and avoid and oftentimes go from the kettle into the fire. We think we know what’s best and what’s what by our own intellect or reason, but Martin Luther writes in his Small Catechism, “I believe that I cannot by my own reason or strength believe in Jesus Christ, my Lord, or come to Him; but the Holy Spirit has called me by the Gospel, enlightened me with His gifts, sanctified and kept me in the true faith.” So once again we are back to emptying ourselves and being filled with and propelled by the Holy Spirit. It’s God’s grace not our plan.
There’s a moment and lesson in my faith formation that I will never forget and will probably share with you multiple times as, like our readings, it bears repeating. Mark Menees drew a simple stick figure illustration on a white board. A little person stands on the edge of a big valley. On the other side is a crown. It’s the heavenly reward and it’s glorious and shiney. Before the little person there is a journey to be made. In this case, Led Zeppelin would not be incorrect in saying that, “there are two paths that you can go by.” One path would be a theology of glory. That’s where you have it all figured out. You will get there because of the things you have done and the path that you sayed on. You’ve got your morals right, your eyes on the prize and all of your actions are a part of the plan to earn YOUR salvation. You help others to get something for yourself. On this path the little person starts building a bridge. A fragile glass bridge across the valley. They walk as they build. The figure builds with bits of confidence in itself, in all it’s works in its denial of it’s true feelings, patching it together with clever bumper sticker sayings, or as Luther pointed out calling evil good and good evil, all while looking down on those in the valley. The stick figure is up and has its eyes on the prize treating this life as nothing but a test for them with the strategy of getting across as quickly, cleanly and easily as possible.
The other path is the way of the cross. That little figure goes downward. Down the slope of the valley. The valley is full of the pain and unpleasantness of life, the tears and the mud. That’s the valley, the valley of the shadow of death. Ash Wednesday is a time that we are to remember that we are to be fellow sojourners through that valley as we are all dust and to dust we shall return. The problem with a theology of glory is that it has two outcomes, one being arrogance and a look at what I did mentality or the other is despair when the weight of the things of the valley overwhelm a person, the glory bridge shatters and the person plummets into the valley. The ones for whom a theology of glory has failed often express feelings of betrayal and that God has deserted them. The good news is that that valley is where the cross of Christ stands. The valley is where Christ came and abides for us.
The 23rd psalm reminds us that Jesus is there with us leading us, comforting us and prodding us until that day when he leads his sheep up out of the valley into the kingdom. He will be with them the whole time, never, ever departing. So we are not alone in this Pandemic Valley. He is with us in the darkness of this valley and all the other ones just as he promised, “I am with you even to the end of the age.” Amen
I want you to take a moment and check out a song that I hope will bring you some fun and lift your spirits while you are cooped up. It goes right with the sermon. It’s called “Get Down” by Audio Adrenaline. The lyrics will be on the printed copy of the sermon and I’ll post a link on our site. Hey, PS, It would be great for exercise.
Get Down
By Audio Adrenaline
Video Link
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xYq2Q-aLSII
Lyrics Link
https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/audioadrenaline/getdown.html
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