The Reverend Seth Ethan Carey
March 29, 2009
First Congregational Church,
www.firstconge.org
630-469-3096
Scripture: John 12:20-32
Now among those who went up
to worship at the festival were some Greeks.
They came to Philip, who was from Bethsaida in Galilee, and said to him,
‘Sir, we wish to see Jesus. ’ Philip went and told Andrew; then Andrew and
Philip went and told Jesus. Jesus
answered them, ‘The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of
wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it
dies, it bears much fruit. Those who
love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep
it for eternal life. Whoever serves me
must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves me, the Father will honor.
‘Now my soul is troubled. And what
should I say—“Father, save me from this hour”?
No, it is for this reason that I have come to this hour. Father, glorify your name.’ Then a voice came
from heaven, ‘I have glorified it, and I will glorify it again.’ The crowd standing there heard it and said
that it was thunder. Others said, ‘An
angel has spoken to him.’ Jesus
answered, ‘This voice has come for your sake, not for mine. Now is the judgment of this world; now the
ruler of this world will be driven out.
And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to
myself.’
Sermon:
It
is a beautiful day in Pennsylvania. The morning sun shines on hills and meadows
and the pastures of ancestral Amish farmlands. The air is still crisp, but the
snow has melted to reveal newborn blades of green grass, the first harbingers
of spring.
These
are crushed underneath the spinning tires of an ’86 Chevy Nova, which is
careening off of Interstate 80 and onto the grass along the side of the road.
The driver quickly recovers and steers his vehicle back onto the pavement, but
this is not the first such mishap of the day. An open bottle of cheap Kentucky
bourbon is nestled in the passenger seat, a wretched traveling companion if
ever there was one.
You
will not be surprised to learn that the intoxicated operator of this vehicle is
about to be pulled over by the police for drunk driving and tossed into a cell
at the local county jail. What will surprise
you, however, is his unusual method of escape.
Shortly
after being arrested, he is going to declare political sovereignty from the
State of Pennsylvania and from the United States of America. He is going to
insist that he is a country unto himself, and therefore not subject to our
nation’s laws. He is going to tell the police, his lawyer, the judge, and
anyone else who cares to listen that he does not even live in Pennsylvania.
Rather, according to his statement, he lives inside himself.
I
can’t decide if this is the raving of a mad drunkard or the most brilliant
legal defense in the history of crime and punishment. I’m leaning towards the
latter.
***
This
is the true story of an arrest that took place only a few weeks ago. While one
must admit that the defendant’s argument is a creative one, I’m not sure how
effective it will prove to be in a court of law. As I understand it, the Judge
is not even allowing him to stand trial until he has undergone a comprehensive
mental examination.
I
can’t say I blame the guy. I know I’ve had days when I wish that I could
withdraw from the world and its troubles. I don’t know how many times I’ve
heard people say, “If things get any worse in this country, I’m moving to
Canada.” Why move to Canada when you can just move inside yourself?
Unfortunately,
we all know it’s not that simple. Most people aren’t willing to just up and
move to another country if they don’t like the way the political winds are
blowing. In some countries people will even try to seize power for themselves,
intent on believing that they could do a better job of running the show. This
kind of hostile takeover is sometimes called a coup d’état. Coup d’état is French for a “stroke of State”, and it’s what happens when a small
group of people who occupy the ranks of an organization attempt to seize
control of that organization by force. So for instance, imagine if I were to
gather a group of supporters and attempt to overthrow the Church Council,
declaring absolute authority over this entire congregation and installing
myself as Senior Minister, or maybe the world’s first Congregationalist Pope.
That’s what you might call a coup d’état.
Not that I would ever do such a terrible thing. Not unless you asked me to.
Yet
I imagine that most of us—at one time or another in our lives—have fantasized
about seizing control from the authorities that govern us. Perhaps you’ve
imagined yourself walking into the CEO’s office and telling him he’s fired. Or
maybe you’ve had daydreams about locking your teacher in the janitor’s closet
and taking over your class, abolishing homework and extending recess to an
all-day affair. Of course, such flights of fancy are just that—fantasies to be
dwelled upon in times of frustration.
Some
people have the nerve to actually try it. In the Philippines, rebels within the
government have been trying to overthrow President Arroyo since her
installation in early 2001. There have been so many failed attempts that people
have actually lost count, and have long ceased to care. One of these incidents
occurred in November of 2007, when a rebel senator stormed the Peninsula Hotel
in Manila and tried to hold the place hostage, hoping that this drastic
maneuver would inspire the Filipino people to rise up against the President.
Unfortunately
for him, no one was very inspired.
As
Senator Trillanes IV entered the hotel lobby with his band of armed supporters,
the girl at the front desk hardly batted an eyelash. As rebels with AK-47
assault rifles filtered into the hotel’s five-star restaurant, the guests
refused to comply with the demands of their captors until they had finished
eating their lunch. Outside the hotel, this attempted coup was given all of fifteen seconds of attention on the
television news. The people of the Philippines took notice, sighed
apathetically, and went back to their business. The only person who seemed to
care at all was an angry young woman, whose wedding reception was scheduled at
the Peninsula hotel that day and she was forced to make other arrangements at
the last minute. The siege lasted only six hours before the Senator decided to
call it off and surrender. After messing with a bride on her wedding day, I’d
say he was lucky to escape with his life. In the end, it was just another
failed coup d’état.
***
Now
rewind the picture back to the first century AD, a time when many Christian
scholars believe that Jesus of Nazareth was trying to stage a revolution of his
own. The Jews of the era were living under the dominion of Rome, an empire
built on its military prowess. With its emphasis on earthly riches and power,
Rome stood in fierce contrast to Jesus’ teachings. Some believe that Jesus was
very much a political figure, a man whose ultimate aim was to topple the Roman
government.
For
the record, I’m not entirely convinced of this myself; but their argument is
still an interesting one. According to
this point of view, Jesus spoke in coded parables so as to disguise his
subversive messages from the authorities, whose spies might have been
listening. The particular language that Jesus chose to use is also very
telling. Jesus continually refers to the
Kingdom of God—a political
distinction—which stands in contrast with the Roman Empire. Also, it was commonly
believed in those days that Caesar—the Roman Emperor—was the son of a god. By
giving himself the same credentials, Jesus was effectively challenging the
Emperor’s divine right.
Now
as I’ve already said, I don’t necessarily subscribe to this point of view.
First of all, if it was Jesus’ intention to overthrow the Emperor, then let’s
face it—he failed miserably. Furthermore, no matter which gospel you choose to
read, Jesus repeatedly denounces the things of this world as being inferior to
spiritual concerns. Jesus was a spiritual man, a mystic. While he was certainly
critical of the political systems that surrounded him, somehow I have a hard
time imagining him running for office, or staging a political campaign of his
own. Jesus was critical of anything
that revolved around worldly desires, and that includes politics.
The
scripture that we have before us this morning, however, does contain some
fairly political language. In no uncertain terms, Jesus says that “now the ruler of this
world will be driven out. And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw
all people to myself.” One could certainly interpret that as though
Jesus were planning to overthrow the Emperor and take his place, but I don’t
think that’s what Jesus has in mind. After all, Jesus also once said to “render
unto Caesar what is Caesar’s, and unto God what is God’s.” In other words,
Jesus’ mission doesn’t have anything to do
with Caesar, or Rome. If that’s true, then who is the so-called “ruler of this
world” that he intends to drive out? I’ll give you one guess, and it’s
not Rod Blagoyavich.
***
As
the son of God, Jesus’ true target was never Caesar; it was Satan. Jesus knew
that this world was under the influence of diabolical forces, legions more
powerful than all the armies of Rome. Now you can feel free to take that as you
will, be it literally or figuratively. Ultimately, I’m not sure that it makes
much difference. Either way, it shatters the political lens and forces us to
gaze through a spiritual one.
Politics
can be awfully distracting, especially in times such as these. A new president
has taken office. Our own governor has been kicked out of office, on charges of corruption. We can’t turn on the
television without hearing about Obama’s latest strategy to repair the corruption
of Wall Street. With so much happening
on the national stage, it’s easy to forget about the corruption in our lives. It’s easy to ignore the
demons that plague us, to just sit back and let them do their thing. Maybe
demons aren’t feisty little creatures with pitchforks, but rather the dark half
of us all that makes bad decisions and hurts the ones we love most.
Let
me ask you this—who is the ruler of your
world? Is it your compassion for those around you? Or is it your concern for
yourself? Is it your gratitude for the things you have? Or is it your lust for
the things you don’t need?
If
life is indeed a highway, then you might be troubled to learn that you’ve been
driving under the influence—of addiction, of bitterness, of abuse. Or maybe
just the influence of selfish desire or mixed up priorities. In each and every
one of us, there whispers a voice that we would just as soon be rid of. In the
Gospel of John Jesus says, “Those who love their life
must lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for
eternal life.” Or to put it another way: in order to truly live, the corruption
within us must die.
Jesus
wasn’t working to inspire the Jews to rise up against Rome. Rather, he was
trying to inspire us to rise up and
stage a coup d’état against our inner
tyrant.
***
As
a teenager, I was what you might call, for lack of a better word, an anarchist.
I despised rules on general principle, and I hated being told what to do. For a
time, this adolescent angst translated itself into a political agenda. I came
to believe that the United States Government was a totalitarian regime bent on
absolute control of the citizenry. In my sophomore year of high school, I was
asked to write a paper for my English class about Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar. Instead, I turned in a
manifesto about the nightmare of living in a police state, ruled by “the iron
fist of the tyrants in Washington.” Now bear in mind, I wasn’t angry about any
particular public policy. In fact, as I wrote this essay I struggled to come up
with any specific evidence to support my outrageous claims.
I
ended up writing about an odd assortment of grievances that had never even
affected me. I criticized the military draft, which had ended before I was
born. I pointed to the law against jaywalking as an example of the government
taking away my God-given right to cross the street in the manner of my
choosing. I criticized the principle of taxation. “If this is the land of the
free,” I wrote passionately, “then I’m not giving Uncle Sam another dime.” At
fifteen years of age I thought this rather clever, even though I had never paid
taxes in my life.
Maybe
instead of criticizing a government that I knew nothing about, I should have
been taking a critical look at myself.
I should have been less concerned about the laws of the land and more worried
about the beliefs and behaviors that governed my own existence. In those days I
was selfish and prematurely bitter, insecure and arrogant in equal measure. I’m
still not perfect—contrary to popular belief.
Lent
is a season for exploring the self. Once we do, we realize that we’re all
subject to the tyranny of our own sinful nature. That leaves us with two
choices. Like that drunk driver in Pennsylvania, we can fool ourselves and
pretend that the rules don’t apply to us. Or we can stop playing games and rise
up against our inner demons, casting them out forever.
So
let us gather at this table, that we might find strength for the task ahead.
Amen.