Tell Me the Truth

Sermon from April 6, 2012

(Good Friday – Year B)

John 18:1-19:42

Delivered at

St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Waco, Texas

I can remember sitting on the floor, red-faced and with hot cheeks.

I can remember sitting Indian-style at one end of the living room floor.

And my younger brother sat on the floor at the opposite end of the living room.

And my mother sat in a chair between us - with her arms folded in front and with a look of disgust on her face.

My mother glared first at my brother and then she glared at me and exclaimed:

“You boys are not going anywhere –

Until one of you tells me the truth.”

I can’t remember now exactly what my brother or I had done.

Maybe one of us had knocked over a lamp and broke it.

Or maybe one of us had made a mess in the playroom.

Yet no matter what it was that my brother or I had done,

Neither one of us was willing to tell the truth.

So my brother and I sat at opposite ends of the living room floor, with my mother perched on the judgment seat.

After a few minutes, she repeated her direction:

“Tell me the truth.

Tell me now who did it.

Because you are not getting up from here –

Until one of you tells me the truth.”

Eventually, one of my mother’s sons broke down and admitted the wrongdoing.

One of us brothers broke down and told the truth.

And one of us was exposed as a liar.

Because my mother was always true to her word.

No one was going anywhere, until someone tells the truth.

When I hear the story of the passion of Lord Jesus Christ, as it is told in John’s Gospel, I am always intrigued by the encounter between Jesus and Pontius Pilate.

Pilate demands that Jesus tell the truth.

And Jesus answers:

“For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth.”

Pilate and Jesus sit at opposite ends of the living room floor.

One of them is a liar and one of them is telling the truth.

Yet Jesus was born into this world, to tell the truth.

Jesus walked on this earth, to tell the truth.

Jesus died on a cross, to tell the truth.

In fact, John’s Gospel is filled with evidence that Jesus is the truth.

In the opening words of the Gospel of John, we hear that:

“The Word became flesh and lived among us.

And we have seen his glory…full of grace and truth.”

In the Gospel of John, Jesus explains:

“You shall know the truth, and the truth will set you free.

In the Gospel of John, Jesus proclaims:

“I am the Way and the Truth and the Life.”

And then, on Good Friday, Pontius Pilate asks Jesus:

“What is truth?”

And Jesus answers with deafening silence.

But Jesus does answer the question -

By stretching out his arms upon the hard wood of the cross.

Jesus is full of grace and truth.

Jesus is the Truth.

Jesus tells the truth.

And the truth is love.

When I read my newsfeed on Google news, I am thirsty for the real truth.

When I read about the death of Trayvon Martin at the hands of George Zimmerman, I want to know the truth.

For those who don’t know what I am talking about, Trayvon Martin was the African-American boy who was wearing a hoodie.

And Trayvon was recently shot by George Zimmerman, a neighborhood watchman.

In my search for the truth, I wish that I could put both Trayvon Martin and George Zimmerman into opposite corners of the living room.

I want to sit on the judgment seat and ask them:

George Zimmerman: did you act in self-defense?

Trayvon Martin: were you an innocent victim of racial profiling?

I am thirsty to know the truth:

Which one of you is a liar and which one of you is telling the truth?

Yet, like Pilate, we are looking for the wrong answers.

Because no matter who was at fault,

The truth is that a life was tragically lost because we are a people of violence and prejudice and sin.

The truth is that we are a broken people who crucify others - rather than love others.

The truth is that Jesus exposes all of us as liars.

For the truth is love.

On Good Friday, Jesus looks squarely into our eyes and proclaims:

“For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth.”

And the truth is love.

On Good Friday and on every day, we sit on the judgment seat, trying to figure out what is a lie and what is the truth.

We are seeped in a culture that tells us that everything around us is ours.

We have been told that the cars that we drive, the houses that we live in, the jobs that we have, the debit card in our wallet –

These are all ours, gained by our hard work.

Yet that is a lie.

The truth is that heaven and earth are full of God’s glory and the stuff that we have is actually God’s, on loan to us so that we might use it to love others, rather than use it to love on ourselves.

On the cross, Jesus exposes that the god of consumerism and consumption is a liar.

And the truth is love.

We are seeped in a culture that tells us that violence and prejudice are the answer to our problems and differences.

We have been told that if someone looks black and is wearing a hoodie, then they must be up to no good.

We are told that if someone looks like a redneck, then they must be a bigot.

We are told that if we just had bigger bombs and better weapons and more crucifixions and just one more spiteful thing to say to put our meddling mother-in-law into her place,

Then we would be safe and secure.

Yet that is a lie.

The truth is that Jesus goes willingly to the cross –

Never, ever retaliating or acting out of self-defense.

On the cross, Jesus exposes that the god of violence is a liar.

And the truth is love.

Love is the only truth.

Love is the only measure by which we are judged.

And Love is on the Cross.

For God is Love.

On Good Friday, Jesus and Pontius Pilate sit at opposite ends of the living room floor.

And my mother was always true to her word.

No one is going anywhere, until someone tells the truth.

So from his cross, Jesus finally confesses:

“For this I was born, and for this I came into the world,

To tell the truth.”

AMEN.

Backside or Frontal Glory

Sermon from October 16, 2011
(Pentecost 18 – Year A)
Exodus 33: 12-23
St. Alban’s Episcopal Church, Waco, Texas

After the ancient Israelites make a golden calf as a replacement God in their impatience,
After Moses comes down from the mountain and gets angry with his people for making the golden calf,
After the Lord gets angry,
Then Moses and the Lord kiss and make up.

Moses and the Lord are back to being best buddies again.
So Moses makes a request of the Lord, saying:
“Show me your glory.”

And the Lord replies:
“I will make my goodness pass before you.”

But the Lord also warns Moses:
“You cannot see my face.
So as my glory passes by I will cover you with my hand until I have passed by.
Then I will take away my hand and you will only see my back, for my face shall not be seen.”

Moses requests that he see the glory of the Lord.
Yet Moses only gets a glimpse of God’s glory, seeing the backside of the Lord.

Back in 2004, President Ronald Reagan died after a long journey with Alzheimer’s.
Whether you were a fan of Reagan or not,
The Reagan era marked a definitive period in my own life, the period of my life that was the glory of my adolescence.

When Reagan first became President in 1981, I can remember watching his inauguration on a small TV in my classroom in high school.
I was in typing class, learning how to communicate using an ancient machine known as a typewriter.
By the time I got to my next class period that day, we learned that the great news that the American hostages had been released from Iran.
It truly felt like a new era had begun.

When Reagan left office in 1989, that was the year I got married, the beginning of another era in my life.
And in between those bookends of Reagan’s presidency, there was the movie Footloose (not the remake) and topsiders and legwarmers.
And the B-52s and Madonna and Michael Jackson were playing on my Sony Walkman.
The Reagan era represents the glory years of my growing up.

And so when Ronald Reagan died in 2004, it was during the very last week that our family lived in the Washington, DC area.
So to pay homage to the glory years of my adolescence, I decided to pay tribute by going into DC and watching the funeral procession of Ronald Reagan.

On that afternoon, I grabbed a good book and I headed to the Metro station.
I rode the subway into the District.
I walked to Constitution Avenue, with the United States Capitol to my right.
I found a good spot on the curb to sit and read my book while I waited for several hours for the funeral procession to begin.

Finally, as police and military personnel began to process down the avenue, I stood up to watch the funeral procession pass me by.
The riderless horse with backward boots in the stirrups passed me by.
The casket coach with Reagan’s flag draped coffin passed me by.
The limousine with Nancy Reagan inside then passed me by.
I did not get a chance to see her face, but I did catch a glimpse of the back of her head.

The glories of America’s past, the glories of the Reagan-era of my adolescence, all passed me by, all with only a peek at a flag-draped coffin and a glimpse of the back of a woman’s head.
Yet I was satisfied with just a glimpse of glory.
That evening, I rode the Metro back home to Alexandria, knowing that a glimpse of glory as it passes us by - might be all that we need.

For Moses had requested to see the glory of the Lord.
Yet Moses did not see the Lord face to face, but caught just a glimpse of the backside of the Lord.

In the beautiful prose of the first chapter of the Gospel of John, the writer proclaims:
“No one has ever seen God.
Yet it is God the only son, who is close to his Father’s heart, who has made him known.”

Two thousand years ago, there was another procession that marked the end of an era.
Two thousand years ago, the procession of Jesus carrying his cross marked the end of an era.
Between the bookends of Jesus’ birth in Bethlehem and his death in Jerusalem, this era had not been marked by Michael Jackson’s music or by legwarmers.
But the Jesus era was marked by the healings of a Canaanite woman and a Roman man and by countless parables, marked by about a kingdom that includes everyone and marked by conversations with a questionable woman at the well.
Yet the Jesus era is now over - as Jesus carries his cross through the avenues of the capital city.

A black man named Simon from northern Africa, from Cyrene, has come to Jerusalem and catches a glimpse of the funeral procession.
Simon of Cyrene has ridden the subway to sit on the curb in Jerusalem that Friday morning.
As Jesus passes by, the shadow of a cross moves across Simon’s face.
A Roman policeman grabs Simon by the arm and he barks:
“You! You carry his cross the rest of his way!”

With sad and pleading eyes, Jesus allows Simon to take up his cross.
Looking squarely into Jesus’ eyes, Simon sees the crown of thorns.
Simon sees the arms of love that will soon bear the weight of crucifixion.
Looking into Jesus’ sweaty and blood-smeared face, Simon sees the full glory of the Lord.

Simon of Cyrene did not just see the backside of the Lord in a tiny glimpse, as Moses did.
Simon of Cyrene saw the full frontal assault of the glory of the Lord, the frontal assault of the Lord of love who walks the way of the Cross - for you and for me.

For no one has ever seen God.
Yet it is God the only son, who is close to his Father’s heart, who has made him known.

Like Moses, we ask to see God.
Like Moses, we can see just a glimpse of God, the backside of God’s glory, in a brilliant lakeside sunset or in the multitude of stars in the night sky.
Yet we see God face to face - when we look into the eyes of a single mother who is carrying her cross, working three jobs just to put food on the table for her children.

We can see just a glimpse of God when we hear a beautiful symphony or gaze at an amazing piece of art.
Yet we see God face to face - when we look into the eyes of an incarcerated man on death row who is carrying his cross, hoping for forgiveness for his sins.

For as the ancient theologian Irenaeus proclaimed:
“The glory of God is human beings fully alive.”

This morning, like Moses, we make our request of the Lord:
“Show us your glory.”
And yet the full glory of the Lord is human beings who are fully alive, fully alive by carrying their cross.

For the goodness of God will pass us by in procession, showing us a glimpse of the backside of his glory.
Yet if you want to see all of God’s amazing glory, face to face, then join the funeral procession and take up your cross.

If you want to see God face to face,
Then look into the eyes of your fellow human beings, carrying the daily sorrow and pain of their cross.

If you want to see God face to face,
Then look into the eyes of Jesus - on his glorious Cross.

AMEN.