A Prophetess in Her Own Hometown

(this is the manuscipt of the sermon I preached this morning at my home church in South Bend, IN. I had massive writer's bloc most of the week but God helped me turn out a sermon I enjoyed giving, at any rate. A few people told me that I picked a wicked hard text for my first sermon - well, girl loves a challenge!)

Trouble Me
Ascension Sunday - Hebrews 4:14-5:10

A few summers ago, the Jenista family had a reunion on Mackinaw Island. Once on the island, we all split up, some headed off to sample fudge, others rented bikes. A fair share of my aunts and cousins were especially interested in the Grand Hotel, which served as the backdrop for the classic, romantic movie, Somewhere In Time. These relatives returned to the group dejected. They reported that you had to have a pass to get into the hotel. My cousin Cheryl and I didn’t much care about the movie, Somewhere in Time, but we liked the idea of a challenge.
“Not allowed in, hmmm? There’s got to be a way around that.” So we set off toward the Grand Hotel. Before we, or anyone official, knew we were involved in a game of croquet on the lawn, but still loomed the real task, how to get into the hotel. . .
Eventually, we gave it up as a lost cause. We stopped to have our picture taken to prove that we’d made it that far as we had! The woman who snapped the shot was carrying a distinctive backpack, and I knew immediately that it had been made in the mountain provinces of the Philippines.
Turns out, she and her husband were missionaries there, I’d gone to high school with her sons, one of whom was working as the concierge at the Grand Hotel. “In fact,” she added, “he’s right up there. Why don’t you go on up and have him show you around?” And we were in!

As a result of this event, I learned the truth of the saying “Its not what you know but WHO you know that counts.” We made it into the hotel, not because we belonged there. No. We were definitely trespassers. The difference between Cheryl, Meg and the rest of the Jenista clan was not merit or knowledge. At the end of the day, the reason Cheryl and I got to see the inside of the Grand Hotel boils down to one thing: we knew the right person and we were bold, some would say brazen, enough to ask for the deluxe tour.

Trouble in the Text
The author of Hebrews has a very similar concern for his congregation. It’s obvious that they know the right person, Jesus Christ. From all the Old Testament imagery in the text of Hebrews we can safely say its original audience knew plenty. As second-generation Christians, they were acquainted with their theology inside and out. They could go through the motions of church in their sleep and, on some Sundays, they actually did. But, having the right answers about Christ doesn’t guarantee that people lived accordingly.
Oprah Winfrey loves to quote her good friend, poet laureate, Maya Angelou who says, “When we know better, we do better.” Its pretty obvious after a short exchange with a toddler that this isn’t exactly true. And if we have any intuition regarding our own inner toddler, we know that we make choices against our own better judgment all the time. The author of Hebrew’s exasperation with this fact is obvious in verses 11 and 12 “About this, we have much to say that is hard to explain, since you have become dull in understanding. For though by this time you ought to be teachers, you need someone to teach you again the basic elements of the oracles of God.” In other words, he’s saying, “You DO know better but you aren’t doing better. What’s that about? Come on, people!”
With the passionate concern of a pastor, the author of Hebrews responded to his congregation’s knowledgeable indifference with a sermon. Christians who knew it all, backward and forward, inside and out, when faced with real life, didn’t know how to apply what they knew. It would be like, if I had seen my friend working at the Grand Hotel but hadn’t had the chutzpah to walk up and ask for a tour. Then, my knowledge would have gone to waste because I was paralyzed by nerves. Or fear. Or worry. “Well, I don’t want to be a bother...”

Trouble in the World
And I suspect this is where many of us are stuck. We recognize the importance of knowing and speaking truthfully about Jesus Christ. And then we worry that we might express it wrong and, as a result, we’ve stopped talking about Jesus in a meaningful way altogether. We hide behind theological jargon. We proclaim, “God is sovereign” and pray as though God can’t be disturbed by the day-to-day grind that characterizes our lives. “Well, I don’t want to be a bother…”
And here we sit, Sunday after Sunday and we secretly wonder, what difference does it make? We know all the right answers, we’ve got all our theological ducks in a row. We even quote from a dry, crusty 17th century catechism but, come Monday morning, what difference does our theology make?
Maybe it’s just me asking all these impertinent questions. But I suspect not. Last week, in preparation for this sermon, Len sent me a copy of the South Bend Christian Reformed Church’s new vision statement. For those of you who haven’t seen it, this is an amazing document which highlighted, for me, this church’s passion to see the rubber of Sunday morning theology hit the real-life pavement of school, office and home all week long. We are a congregation, like the recipients of the sermon to the Hebrews, that has a vested interest in moving our knowledge of Christ into the realm of action.
So, today is Ascension Sunday – what difference will it make tomorrow that Christ ascended into heaven and is seated at the Right Hand of God? What difference does it make that Christ is our Great High Priest? This passage in Hebrews can help us answer both questions.

Grace in the Text – Called By God
Ever since Adam and Eve were evicted from the Garden of Eden, God has made it quite clear that there is a chasm between the Divine and the Human, between Heaven and Earth. And that great, cosmic separation, between what we are and the longing for something more, exists in our very souls. Blaise Paschall called this the “god-shaped hole in our hearts.” The great church father, Augustine, wrote that all of our hearts are restless until they find their rest in God. And God has, throughout the Biblical story, provided ways to bridge the gap between human frailty and God’s perfection – through prophets, messengers and angels but especially through priests. In this passage, the author demonstrates how Christ meets the criteria of a High Priest. Yeah, meets it and then some.
The first truth about Christ from this passage of Scripture is that he is “chosen by God.” The priests in the Old Testament didn’t speak to the people of Israel with hesitance. “Boy, I hope that sacrifice took. . .I don’t know, maybe God won’t be so mad at us anymore.” NO! They spoke with authority. When they made sacrifices and proclaimed forgiveness, the people breathed a sign of relief, were truly liberated from sin and partied for days as a result. The high priests in Israel were able to speak with clout because they were called and appointed by God.
And Christ is able, like the High Priests of Israel, to hear us and forgive our sins because he is appointed by God. This appointment is unique however because Christ is a priest in the order of Melchizedek. From his brief appearance in Genesis 14, we know that Melchizedek carries a dual title: both priest and king. Therefore, when a priest in the line of Melchizedek speaks a word of forgiveness, it is a presidential pardon and a final absolution all rolled into one.
In verses 5 and 6 of chapter 5, the author of Hebrews quotes Psalm 2 and Psalm 110. Listen to the rich Kingdom language of these Psalms:
“The One enthroned in heaven laughs; the Lord scoffs (at the nations and kings of the earth). . .Then he rebukes them.”
“The Lord says to my Lord: ‘Sit at my right hand until I make your enemies a footstool for your feet. The Lord is at your right hand; he will crush the kings. . .He will judge the nations. . .crushing the rulers of the whole earth.”
As our King, Christ oversees the rulers of this world and all the nations. More than that, Christ “became the source of eternal salvation for all who obey him.” Because Christ is, like the High Priests in the Old Testament, called by God, he is able to speak with authority. Because he is a King, like Melchizedek, he is able to rule justly over the world.

Now, at this point, it’d be pretty easy to bring out the old excuses, “I don’t want to be a bother. . . What with the whole cosmos to oversee, my tears, my miserable day, my exhaustion, my failed relationships and my illness can’t possibly be of any concern to this Christ who is God. And subtly, almost imperceptibly, we’ve stopped worshiping Jesus Christ and turned him into a caricature of the gods on Mount Olympus who, Greek mythology tells us, were able to help mortals but, most days, eh, really couldn’t be bothered. But that is not the Jesus Christ depicted in the book of Hebrews.

Grace in the Text – Chosen Among Mortals
I’m reminded of that iconic picture taken in the Oval Office while John F. Kennedy was president. There stood the most powerful man in the nation, busy at work – negotiating with foreign powers, brokering deals with the Senate, just generally being very, very important and presidential. Then, pan the shot in closer and we see a small boy underneath his father’s desk looking out at the camera. Not a care in the world. He’s not concerned about the Cuban missile crisis. He’s hanging out with his dad. All of a sudden this authoritative man takes on a softer edge, an accessibility that appeals to us in a way that all the presidential power in the world never could. And THAT is the kind of relationship we are able to have with God through Jesus Christ
The second truth about Christ from this passage is that, not only is Christ “called by God,” but, like all high priests, he was “chosen among mortals.” High priests were people, too. In the Jewish sacrificial system, the high priest passed through the veil, which separated the Holy Place in the Temple from the Most Holy Place. Once inside the Holy of Holies, this thoroughly human high priest had to offer sacrifices for his own sin before he could turn his attention to the sins of the people.
If the High Priest was only an authority figure, it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to imagine him grumbling his way through the sin sacrifice, “Another year, another goat. Same old people, same old sin. I plead for forgiveness for their selfishness, vanity, self-conceit, adultery, jealousy and theft last year. But here I am. Doing it again. Will they never change?”
BUT with the blood of his own sin sacrifice still damp on his hands, he had no choice but to moderate his own emotions toward the people. Any anger, frustration, weariness toward humanity was brought into focus. He, too, was prone to wander and leave the God he professed to love and serve. With such a visible, messy reminder of his own participation in human weakness, he was enabled to “deal gently with the ignorant and wayward.” The high priests in Israel were willing to help the people because they were aware of their own humanity and such knowledge evoked true sympathy and compassion.
But not only is Christ able to accomplish our salvation, his humanity makes him willing to do so. While the High Priest had to offer a personal sin offering before he could intercede for the community, we know and trust that Jesus Christ was without sin. BUT this does not mean he was without weakness. Verse 9 of our text this morning says that Jesus Christ was “made perfect” through his suffering. That He “learned obedience.” And maybe your heresy radar is going off here, hasn’t Christ always been perfect and obedient? What was there for him to learn? “Perfect” in this text may be better translated “complete,” it means setting a goal and reaching it. Christ came to earth in order that he might become our Great High Priest. We know that one of the qualifications of a High Priests is the ability to sympathize with human weakness. As Christ became flesh and, while he was on earth in human form, he “offered up prayers and supplications, with loud cries and tears, to the one who was able to save him from death.” Christ was perfect because, not in spite, of the fact that he was weak. In II Corinthians 12:9, the Apostle Paul writes, “Christ’s power is made perfect in weakness.”
Now, this is an interesting thought. This is a place where theological rubber meets the road. We have a God who is able to sympathize with our weaknesses because he, himself, has been weak. What might it do for our prayer lives if we recognized that –
* When we begin our 30-minute conversations with the snooze button in the morning, we have a God who says, “ugh, I remember that.” He was tired as we are tired.
* When we have one of those embarrassing trip-over-my-own-feet-for-no-apparent-reason moments, we have a God who can smile ruefully and say, “I’ve so been there.” He was human, even klutzy, as we are human and klutzy.
* When we have to stand up and speak in front of a large congregation and there’s a giant knot formed in our stomaches, we have a God who can say, “I remember one time in front of the Sanhedrian. . .yeah, I hear ya.”

And this is the portrait of Jesus that doesn’t often get hung in our churches. We are so afraid of taking away from Christ’s sinlessness, and, believe me, that’s an appropriate concern, that we forget to sketch him out in human detail.
And then, get this - this is why Ascension Day matters come Monday morning. Not only was Jesus human while on earth, but he appeared to the disciples after his resurrection in a glorified human body, just like the one you and I will someday be issued. It is in this same glorified, resurrection body that Christ ascended into heaven. This means that we have a God up in heaven who can wiggle his toes, scratch his nose and crack his knuckles. And we have a God up in heaven who continues to be able to commiserate with our weakness.

If this church, if OUR church, is serious about pursuing passionate spirituality, this may be the place to start. Wonder with me about the quality of our prayer lives if we honestly saw Jesus as our sympathetic High Priest. What would happen if we believed Jesus Christ cared about the small stuff? If He wanted to hear about the details of our daily lives? He doesn’t sit up in heaven rolling his eyes when we pray that the final bell, last period on Friday, would just ring already. He doesn’t scoff when we throw up prayers of exasperation with our boss, our children, our friends or spouses. Maybe He’s not even annoyed when we’re running late and we have the audacity to pray for a good parking spot!

There is a song by the group, 10,000 Maniacs, in which lead singer, Natalie Merchant sings (lucky for you, I won’t be singing it)

“Trouble me.
Disturb me with all your cares and your worries.
Trouble me on the day when you feel spent.
Speak to me when your silence is my biggest fear.
Don’t spare me anything.”

What if we prayed as though those were Christ’s words to us? And, in fact, they are. That is the difference that Christ’s ascension into heaven and place at the Right Hand of God as our mediator makes.

“Since, then, we have a Great High Priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast to our confession. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weakness, but we have one who in every respect has been tested, as we are, yet without sin. Let us, therefore, approach the Throne of Grace with boldness, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.”
Amen.