Sunday Sermon - The Rev Joshua Daniel, PH D

[00:00:00] Speaker A: The Holy Gospel of our Savior Jesus Christ according to Matthew. [00:00:05] Speaker B: Glory to you, Lord Christ [00:00:10] Speaker A: Jesus said, you are the salt of the earth. But if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything, but is thrown out and trampled underfoot. You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hid. No one, after lighting a lamp, puts it under the bushel basket but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven. Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets. I have come not to abolish, but to fulfill. For truly I tell you, until heaven and earth pass away, not one letter, not one stroke of a letter will pass from the law until all is accomplished. Therefore, whoever breaks one of the least of these commandments and teaches others to do the same will be called least in the kingdom of heaven. But whoever does them and teaches them will be called great in the kingdom of heaven. For I tell you, unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. The Gospel of the Lord. [00:01:47] Speaker B: Praise you, Lord. Children ages 3 through 10 are invited to join Katie and Ann for story time. They'll return at the prayer or at the peace. May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, our strength and Redeemer. Amen. It was a cold morning in January. The sun would peek over the horizon in roughly an hour. We had at least a 40 minute walk ahead of us. I was with four or five good friends from seminary. We had traveled to Israel and Palestine to spend two weeks studying at St. George's College in West Jerusalem. In 2017, just five minutes into the brisk walk, we arrived at Herod's Gate, one of the many fortified entries to the Old City. Though usually the idf, the Israeli Defense Forces had guards posted there. This early in the morning there were only a few merchants setting up their shops. Instead of entering into the gate, we turned east and traced along the huge city walls. They wrapped around and eventually led us to the Lion's Gate, where we crossed over away from the city center and came to a small garden accompanied by a stone church. The garden, lined with ancient but still living olive trees, was the garden of Gethsemane, and before us was the Mount of Olives, the road that Jesus took to Enter. Jerusalem was on what we now celebrate as Palm Sunday. Our destination was the top, the top of the Mount of Olives. We wanted to get there before first light to see the sun tip over the Mount of Olives and hit Jerusalem again for the first time. We got there a bit winded, steam pumping from our mouths into what was still darkness. There were plenty of lights dotting the landscape. But as the sun rose, the ancient city came into view. Between us and Jerusalem was the Kidron Valley, dotted by churches and temples and mosques, the ancient tombs of the Jewish cemetery. Slowly the Temple Mount came into view. Haram al Sharif, the Dome of the Rock, plated in gold, sparkling bright. And just beyond it, the Holy Sepulchre, the church built over Golgotha, and the tomb of Jesus, his ending and beginning. It's a lasting testimony that Jesus retreated to the garden before confronting the powers. These last few weeks, I've caught my mind wandering back to that early January morning. I've caught myself wanting to retreat, retreat from the news, the images of cruelty and death. To find that quiet stillness before the break of the day, before guards took their post. The city bursts into noisy chaos. It's hard for me to imagine the actual person of Jesus standing there, as each gospel tells us that he did, that he spent hours watching the city before him. What were his prayers like? Was his body restless? Was he sad or disheartened or both by how unengaged the disciples were, how little they seemed to understand the stakes of that last retreat, of that confronting hour. One thing you should know about the Mount of Olives, it stands as a border between the wilderness and the city. The heart of Jerusalem is a 20 minute walk from there. But in the other direction, 20 minutes of walking will put you safely into the desert wilderness, where all manner of people historically could safely escape from the hands of the authorities. For that man standing there contemplating the cost of what confrontation would mean, the mockery, the uncertainty, the loneliness, the pain. For Jesus, the Mount of Olives could just as easily represent the possibility of escape. Put it off, Pilate. In the corrupted state, they'll all still be there next year. Perhaps then the disciples would be ready. Wouldn't it be more strategic and well planned to wait? What gave Jesus the strength to overcome all that? To go towards the trouble and not away from it? And the stillness in the darkness, the Word abided in him. This morning we heard the lesson that perhaps rang in his ears that night. You, Jesus, are the salt of the earth. You, Jesus, are the light of the world. You Jesus will be the city on the hill that cannot be hid. Jesus, overlooking the Kidron Valley, came to a deep peace. He could see a terrible truth, a truth that compelled him to act, to voluntarily walk into the deep waters. For Jesus, even before that first step, he knew that the victory was already won, that his movement, his calling person after person to walk in paths of peace and mercy and forgiveness and love, that a kingdom built with those stones will not be overcome. Stay with me for just a minute here. It can sound like a trite slogan, and in the history of the world, many have turned it into a trite slogan. And it does sound counterintuitive. But hear it. The victory is already won. The victory is already won. For me, that means that we don't need to run any more social experiments testing whether humans respond better to being treated with dignity or whether they respond better to brute force. It means we already know, and it will never change, that we should treat and love our neighbors as we treat and love ourselves. It means we don't have to wonder whether God really lives in every human person. We don't have to double check inside people that seem and feel very different to us, whether the fullness of God really does dwell within them. It means we don't ever treat children as pawns. It means that before the earth was formed, these things were true, that they wait to be recognized by us, that the Spirit forever calls us to bring them forth. It means that no matter how many setbacks, no matter how many versions of Pilate we encounter, no matter how many times those with power try to convince us that goodness can be found in violence, that goodness can be found in cruelty. It means we already forever know that they are wrong. And we respond by inviting us. We respond to those inviting us to evil by retreating, by praying, by remembering, by reminding each other that we know the victory is already wonderful. Love wins. It can't be defeated. The kindness you show to your friends at school, to the stranger in the street, when you respond to a family member with grace instead of fear or lashing out, when a city responds to agents of intimidation and violence, not with riots, but with vigils of prayer and song and memorials of sorrow and resilience, when we pull back and speak words of care and peace, these are tokens of trust and mercy. It's the eternal kingdom of God breaking into our lives. The victory is already won. It's the light on the hill that cannot be put out. It's the salt that will never lose its taste. You. You are the light of the world. This light grounded Jesus feet. It carried him not away from the danger, but towards it. This light guided Moses through the wilderness. It fortified Martin Luther King Jr. To stare down Bull Connor. It shined in Jesus on the cross and broke forth from the grave. On. On Easter morning. My friends, the victory is already won. This light is in each of you. May it shine in us today and until the end of time. Amen.