New Hope UMC of the Northern Berkshires

As Jesus enters Jerusalem, the multitude of disciples begins to joyfully shout with praise. The Pharisees try to silence them, but Jesus responds: “I tell you, even if these were silent, the stones would shout out” (Luke 19:40).

All of creation cries out with praise—that message rises above the noise, even if the oppressive powers want to silence it. As we begin our walk through Holy Week, let us ask: What can’t be silenced? What must be said?

What things can we not stay quiet about? What is bubbling up that we need to give voice to—faith questions, apologies, issues of justice, truth-telling? As we go deeper into the story, the truth will soon be set free.

God is brazen in turning tears into joy.

Not so long after their brother Lazarus dies and is raised from the dead, Mary and Martha joyfully welcome Jesus into their home. Mary pours out fragrant perfume (perhaps originally intended to anoint her brother’s body after death) and it fills the whole room.

This is a brazen act of beauty. Beauty is resistance to death; beauty is an act of love. Mary’s anointing of Jesus’ feet is also a public act of worship. Her faith does not hide; it is not frugal. It is embodied, broken open, and poured out. This isn’t a frugal faith—it is an abundant, extravagant faith.

Mary’s act is also risky—she puts her full body into it, sort of like a protest. She exhibits a shameless and brazen faith.

The word “prodigal” is commonly used to describe the son who squanders his inheritance. Yet, this parable invites us to consider how God’s grace is also prodigal - extravagant, lavish, illogical. This parable disrupts and expands our definitions of grace. Once again, grace is not earned.

After wasting his resources, the younger son becomes destitute and returns home to his father, saying, “I am no longer worthy” (Luke 15:21).

In response, his father welcomes him with a celebration and the fatted calf. The older son, in contrast, has done everything “right”—he’s tried to perform, work hard, check all the boxes—but he forgets how to celebrate. How might you receive and extend prodigal grace?

Sometimes it seems like nothing we do goes according to plan. That might be one meeting, one hour, a whole day, a week, a year, or a season of life. It can seem like nothing goes the way we want it to go. And in those seasons, whatever their length, we can feel like it’s not worth it.

Like WE are not worth it.

But we ARE. We are worth it. More, we are worthy. Even when everything seems like it’s falling apart, even when our efforts aren’t producing the fruit we hope for, and the fruit others hope for from us… still, we are worthy.

Come and join us on Sunday morning to hear more.

God is our refuge. There is nothing that can separate you from God, or could keep God from gathering you in, protecting you fiercely. Jesus’ lament for Jerusalem is seemingly counter to how he is treated by Jerusalem. And yet, we receive grace upon grace, even if not deserved. Jesus as a mother hen is an image of fierce love and protection. You are a precious child of God. God longs for you. God will gather you in. No matter how much we try to separate ourselves from God, God will run to protect us. God’s love for us is fuller than we can imagine.

Even in the desert, Jesus expands our definitions of a full life. It’s not the life the Tempter presents: a life defined by excess power, control, or reign. Jesus sees beyond this facade and says, even in the midst of fasting, “One does not live by bread alone” (Luke 4:4). Excess is not abundance, but there is more. There is a fuller life we are called to live. Even in the midst of struggle, oppressive forces, hardship, and grief—God’s promises spill over, like the bounty of the first fruits from the ground. Even in the desert, you are called to the riverside to be washed by grace.

There are times in our faith journey when we are beset with doubt. There are times when we wonder, is it all true? Does God love me? Will God forgive me? We may even wonder, at times, is God even out there?

But there are also moments when revelation is so clear, when God’s presence in the world is so overwhelmingly, well, present, that there’s nothing we can do but stand back in awe and wonder.

And gratitude.

This Sunday, let’s talk about Peter’s awe, as we consider the Transfiguration of Christ.

Jesus invites us to… well, perhaps instructs us is a better term… Jesus instructs us to turn the other cheek, to give our shirt and not just our coat, to go the extra mile.

But Jesus doesn’t require us to be pushovers.

Jesus may require us to submit, but he doesn’t require us to be submissive.

We are called to peaceful resistance. But peaceful resistance is a kind of defiance, too.

I’m not a fan of the Olympics. Despite the claim that the Olympics exist to foster a spirit of friendship, solidarity, and fair play, there is an unavoidable discrepancy between that idealistic goal, and the reality of the on-the-field competition.

Which, of course, is a reflection of our world outside of the idealized vision of Olympic sport, as well. Abundance leads to, or, worse, is an indication of success. Lack of abundance often results in a condemnation of effort or ability. In Jesus’ time, they would have said that abundance indicates God’s blessings in life, and poverty indicates a lack of God’s favor.

So in the Sermon on the Plain, in the famous “Blessings and Woes” section, Jesus turns that upside-down. Or at least, he seems to.

But I think it’s fairer to say that he turns it… on its side.

The Apostle Paul tells us that we have all sinned and fallen short of God’s desires for us. He’s right, and, c’mon, we all know it.

In this weekend’s Gospel reading, Peter and his coworkers get the catch of a lifetime, and rather than celebrating it with the one who provided it, Jesus, Peter says, “leave me, for I am a sinner.” And, again, he’s right. He’s a sinner. We’re all sinners.

But Peter’s admission isn’t one of shame… and neither does ours have to be.