The scapegoat who didn't go away (Easter 2, April 16, 2023)

 Scripture:  John 20:19-31

What the resurrection of Jesus means is not easy to understand or accept.  It invites believing and living towards things we can not imagine nor create ourselves, and can only receive with open hearts as gift of God.  This story begins in the evening of the day when Mary Magdalene first went to the tomb to anoint Jesus’ body, found the tomb empty, and was met by him alive right beside her in the garden.  At least, that’s what she tells the others.  That day, all that the others know is that the emptied tomb probably means trouble for them from the authorities.

 

On the evening of that first day of the week, when the disciples were together, with the doors locked for fear of the Jewish leaders, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you!” After he said this, he showed them his hands and side. The disciples were overjoyed when they saw the Lord.

 

Again Jesus said, “Peace be with you! As the Father has sent me, I am sending you.” And with that he breathed on them and said, “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive anyone’s sins, their sins are forgiven; if you do not forgive them, they are not forgiven.”

 

Now Thomas (also known as The Twin), one of the Twelve, was not with the disciples when Jesus came.  So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord!”  

 

But he said to them, “Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.”

 

A week later his disciples were in the house again, and Thomas was with them. Though the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you!” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe.”

 

Thomas said to him, “My Lord and my God!”

 

Then Jesus told him, “Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.”

 

Jesus performed many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not recorded in this book. But these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name.

 

 

Meditation

When Jesus died, he died as a scapegoat.  That’s what people made of him – or tried to.

Earlier in the Gospel of John, Caiaphas the high priest says very pointedly that it’s better one man should die, rather than the whole nation.  In other words, when things start going really wrong, pin the blame and put the guilt on Jesus, kill him, and the problem will be over. 

That’s how Pilate saw it, too.  It seemed a Passover riot against Rome was beginning to take shape.  Jesus was put forward by the leaders of his own people as the problem.  And as the solution.  Rather than call in the troops and start a bloodbath against all the people, why not kill just him?  Rightly or wrongly let him be the scapegoat, the fall guy.  And when he’s out of the way and the dust settles and he’s out of the way, we can all get back to regular business.

It's what societies do, with religious and political institutions often working holy hand in government glove to make it happen.  When things aren’t going well, when problems in a society are big and overwhelming, rather than look into the mirror at what really needs to change, the easy answer is to find a scapegoat … load the blame on it or them … project the communal darkness on to them … make them suffer … and either drive them into the wilderness, never to be seen again, taking all the evil away with them … or, sacrifice them to the gods, thus earning the favour of the gods towards you by satisfying the gods’ need for redress … so you can once again be free and clear and blessed to carry on as before, with all the bad and evil taken away for good on the back of the scapegoat.

Like Nazi Germany did with the Jews.  Like ultra-conservative Christians did with gays and lesbians and “leftist radicals”, when AIDS hit the American heartland. 

And those are only two of the big stories.  There are all kinds of little ones as well – as little as a neighbourhood, as intimate as a family, in which someone – the deviant, the troublemaker, the black sheep – rightly or wrongly, is made to bear the burden of all.  Easier to point a finger at someone else and drive them away, than to hold up a mirror to yourself and to others around you.

One of the things that makes this work, of course, is that the scapegoat goes away and is not seen again.  Whether driven into the wilderness where it dies alone, or sacrificed and burned up on an altar to a god, it’s essential that the scapegoat disappear for the problem to disappear with it.

But what if the scapegoat refuses to be a scapegoat – and doesn’t go away?  If the fall guy refuses to stay fallen, and comes back? 

Especially if, like Jesus, he never really bought the whole scapegoat theology and practice in the first place?  Was known for preaching and practicing a very different way of making the world good and the way God intends it to be?

Jesus lived and moved and acted in the spirit of the Old Testament prophets, who in their time saw through the scapegoating going on in the Temple religion, and how it so often kept the people from really engaging in the kind of spiritual transformation of their own lives that was needed of any real people of God in the world.

When things went wrongly enough for the kingdom that even the elite realized something had to be done to get right again, the answer was usually religious revival.  More often than not, that meant restoring the fallen-down temple, re-investing in the priestly order, and re-establishing the offering of all the traditional sacrifices.  As though that would make the people holy and the kingdom right again.

But what did the prophets say about that?

It was something like, “I don’t want your solemn Temple assemblies, God says.  I don’t want your animal sacrifices, and the rivers of blood that flow from your altars to me, as though that will cleanse you and set you free from sin.  What I want is for you to learn the meaning of self-sacrifice for others, and the flowing of justice, and love and compassion as a river from your hearts and from your homes to those who are oppressed and for the sake of those around you who are in need.  That’s what will help you all – and I really mean all, as one regathered people, to make a new good start.  That – not the way of ritual sacrifice, but the way of inner transformation and outer compassion is my way of making the world good.”

Is this one reason why Jesus overturned the tables of the money-changers and sacrifice-sellers on Palm Sunday?  Because they made the Temple into a place designed for scapegoating others for the salvation of those who could afford to be there, and were accepted there, rather than a place where all can come and be one in new and healing ways in the presence of God?

Is this also maybe why Jesus throughout his ministry made a point of reaching out to, being with, and gathering in precisely those people in his society who were the most likely to be scapegoated by others in some way, and have the spiritual ill-health of others projected on to them at some time in their lives?  People like the poor.  The lepers and the lame and the demon-possessed.  Women.  Tax collectors and other sinners.  Children. Samaritans.  Even the occasional centurion.  Until Jesus himself became, like them, in the eyes of the pious, a deviant, a black sheep who could easily be made – and was made, to play a scapegoat.

Just get rid of him, the logic was, and we can relax again.  Get rid of him – it must be God’s will, and at least for a while we can put away the mirror he was trying to get us to look into.

And is this one reason why Thomas needs to know: is it really Jesus, the one they put to death, the one they nailed to the cross and cut to the heart, the one who was made to disappear so we can be okay – is it really this Jesus who has come back?

Because if it is … if it’s really the nail-scarred, sword-wounded Jesus who has come back … who refuses to be a scapegoat, who refuses to take on himself and take away from us all the guilt and evil of our society and of our selves … then doesn’t that change everything?

Doesn’t that mean that the answer to our ills is not to be found in scapegoating others … in sacrificing some for the well-being of the whole … in winning our well-being by getting rid of the deviants, the troublemakers and the black sheep who interfere with our goodness?

Won’t it mean that the answer really is instead what Jesus lived, and the way he shows and invites us to live as well – which is to reach out to those who are on and beyond the edge of the circle … to seek solidarity with, rather than judgement over those who struggle and are different … to invite all and to exclude none from the table and the feast of God’s goodness … to create communities where forgiving acceptance is an inclusive beginning-point for all rather than an exclusive benefit for some … and to make temples, spaces and holy places wherever we are in the world, where all can come together and be one in the presence, and to the delight of God?

 

Is this maybe why Jesus says what he does to the disciples in this story:  As the Father has sent me, so I am sending you.” Then, breathing on them, he said, “Receive the Holy Spirit.  It is you who know and follow me – and not just the temple priests, who are vested with the reconciling and rebuilding authority of God in the world.  If you forgive anyone’s sins, their sins are forgiven; if you do not forgive them, they are not forgiven.  Because it is not by temple sacrifice and the deaths of scapegoated victims that the kingdom and the world are made well, but by the way you – in imitation of me, reach out to, gather in, and let yourself become one in community with those around you who are the most likely to be scapegoated by others.

In other words, the blood that heals our wounds and the wounds of the world is not the blood of a sacrifice that flows religiously from altar to God, but the blood of lives poured out in love for the lost and the least around us, like a river that catches us up in its flow.

So, Thomas needs to see the wounds … because if the one who died as a scapegoat, has now come back … has not left … and refuses to go away … doesn’t that change everything?  And how can we not choosing the other way – his way – of being healed, being good, being well, and being one together?

Life is a parade? And the only question is which parade we choose to be part of? (Palm Sunday, April 2, 2023)

 

Note:  At the beginning of the service, it was announced that Georgina B, one of the worshippers, had just that week been named “Citizen of the Year” by the local municipal Chamber of Commerce, in recognition of a lifetime, really, of dedicated volunteer and public service for the community on many levels.  The occasion is noted in, and has relevance for the sermon.

 

Scripture Reading: Mathew 21:1-17

 

The reading is Matthew’s telling of Jesus’ celebrated entry to Jerusalem. 

 

Throughout Galilee, Jesus has become known for gathering people of all kinds into healing and loving community – rich and poor, young and old, men and women, pious people and notorious sinners. He brings them all together to sit freely and equally at one table.  When he enters Jerusalem, and especially the Temple, he enters a different world and encounters a different kind of religion. 

 

In the Temple, people are segregated and divided into insiders and outsiders according to gender, status, nationality, and moral respectability.  Also, what people are allowed to offer as a sacrifice to God in the Temple is also tightly regulated.  The Temple has its own in-house currency, which people must use when they are there, to buy an animal to offer as a sacrifice.  People from a distance – like Galilee, have to exchange their money for Temple currency – usually at a terrible exchange rate. Then when they use that money to buy the animal they need as an offering, the price is also greatly inflated.  They lose each step of the way, because it’s a system that cheats those who come from outside, and makes the Temple insiders rich.

 

 

As Jesus and the people with him approached Jerusalem and came to Bethphage on the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two disciples, saying to them, “Go to the village ahead of you, and at once you will find a donkey tied there, with her colt by her. Untie them and bring them to me. If anyone says anything to you, say that the Lord needs them, and he will send them right away.”

 

…. The disciples went and did as Jesus had instructed them. They brought the donkey and the colt and placed their cloaks on them for Jesus to sit on. A very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, while others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road. The crowds that went ahead of him and those that followed shouted,

“Hosanna to the Son of David!”

“Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!”

“Hosanna in the highest heaven!”

 

When Jesus entered Jerusalem, the whole city was stirred to ask, “Who is this?”  The crowds answered, “This is Jesus, the prophet from Nazareth in Galilee.”

 

Jesus entered the temple courts, and drove out all who were buying and selling there. He overturned the tables of the money changers and the benches of those selling doves. “It is written,” he said to them, “‘My house will be called a house of prayer,’ but you are making it ‘a den of robbers.’”

 

The blind and the lame came to him at the temple, and he healed them. But when the chief priests and teachers of the law saw the wonderful things he did, and the children shouting in the temple courts, “Hosanna to the Son of David,” they were indignant.  “Do you hear what these children are saying?” they asked him.  “Yes,” replied Jesus, “have you never read,

“‘From the lips of children and infants
             you, Lord, have called forth your praise’?”

 

And he left them and went out of the city to Bethany, where he spent the night.

 

Reflection

Paul, when he was in prison, wrote this in a letter to the Christian community in Philippi: “Whether I live or I die is of no account to me; only that I honour Christ in my living and in my dying.”

I wonder if Jesus had a similar thought the night before his planned entry to the city of Jerusalem.  Or the morning of it, as the plan was put into motion.  “Whether I live or die from this is of no matter; only that I honour the Father, and the way of kingdom of God on Earth in what I do and what I am, whether living or dying.”

It was very likely that what Jesus was doing would lead to his death. 

 For three years in and around Galilee, in the way he lived out and brought to life the kingdom of God among the people – in his teaching, healing, feeding, forgiving, empowering, including, and gathering all kinds of people into new forms of compassionate and healing community, he was a thorn in the side of the co-operating powers of Jerusalem and Rome.  He called into question their unjust systems, their programmatic oppression of the people, and their misrepresentation of God and God’s will.  For three years he had been earning the mistrust and hostility of the religious and political leaders.  But this – this procession into Jerusalem, was going to raise things to a new level.

It was Passover time, and Jews everywhere would be remembering their ancient liberation by God from Egyptian oppression.  Each year, many came from the countryside to Jerusalem for the Passover rituals, hoping against dashed hopes of the past, that maybe this would be the year when God would repeat the ancient miracle, and set them free now from the oppression of the Romans.

Passions would run high.  Prayers would be fervent.  The scent of uprising and disorder would be in the air.  So, before the Passover feasts would begin, Pilate the Roman governor, would send in extra troops for the duration of the festival.  They would march in from the west, from Caesarea Maritima – a roman military town.  They would come into the city through the main eastern gate with a show of military might, with war horses and columns of armed soldiers, with banners, flags and weaponry on display.  All to quell and dampen the enthusiasm of any Jewish activists.

And it’s in this situation that Jesus plans and puts into motion a plan for his own parade into the city.  A seditious street-theatre piece in which he enters the city from the other side – from the east, by the road down from the Mount of Olives – a back-door, servants-entrance kind of gate into the city.  Not on a horse, but a donkey, with the donkey’s foal trailing along as his back-up ride if he needs one.  Not with armed battalions but with ordinary people and children – mostly from out-of-town, hailing him as The Prophet, casting their garments on the road ahead of him as he rides into the city of God.  Going all the way to, and then into the Temple.  And once there, breaking down and casting to one side every barrier put up by the powerful and privileged elite against the poorest, the least and the outsiders being able to have access to God and an equal place in God’s family.  

 It’s a series of precise steps and particular actions that would have brought to the mind of any good Jew, the way the Psalms and the Prophets describe the coming of God’s messiah against the power of rulers and leaders who act in ways against the good will of God. 

Not that Jesus wants to be king or leader of any kind of institution.  He makes it clear that’s not in his job description as Son of God and messiah.  But some of those around him are ready and waiting to make him king, and as Andrew Prior – a minister of the Uniting Church of Australia, puts it, even though “any Roman soldier watching this parade has no idea of the cultural referencing that’s going on…[they clearly see] the single raised middle digit” that the people are raising against them along his way.

Clearly, this is not going to end well for Jesus. 

But that’s not his concern. 

His concern is that the point be made about what’s wrong in the world, and what the true way is.  That the way of God is affirmed.  That the way of God’s kingdom is lived out, and the hope and experience of it as a living option in the affairs of the world be sown – be planted, like a seed.

That’s why, when the parade finally leads to the Temple, and he overturns the tables of the privileged and powerful gatekeepers, he is content to leave.  He doesn't set up camp, gather his supporters, and try to take over.  Tables overturned, God's Word proclaimed, he then goes go back to Bethany for the night.  Job done.

That’s why, as the next few days unfolds, all he does each day in the Temple is to teach and to heal the blind and the lame -- to help ordinary people to see clearly and to move more freely, and beyond that leaves the powers of the day do with him as they will.  Job done.

Because the point all along is not to take control, take over power, become a new boss, or force any changes by whatever might he might have at his command.  The point is more simply to bear witness to the truth of the situations and to the way of God’s love for all the world in it.  The point is, by his own actions of living out the love of God for all that God loves, to sow that love like a seed into the life of the world.

So that even when – not if, but when he is dead and gone – something is left behind that has taken root in the lives of others, and grow up again.  And again.  A seed not wasted but sown – not kept safe in its package, but planted and spent for God and for good into the life of the world.

And isn’t that what we all are called to do and to be?  To be sowers of the seed of God – and to be the seed ourselves, of God’s love, God’s good will, God’s desire for the well-being and flourishing of all, being sown into the life of the world?  Isn’t this what Jesus means, when he says, “Come and follow me”?

Now, following Jesus doesn’t necessarily mean we die a tragic death – that we’re buried in the ground early on and unjustly.

Sometimes it means that.  History shows a long list of martyrs for the way of God, including people in recent times like Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Jr., and Oscar Romero.  But there are also all kinds of exceptional saints through the ages and into today like Francis of Assisi, Clarence Jordan, Dorothy Day, and Nelson Mandela who follow Jesus in radical, controversial ways, and still die of old age.

The critical thing is not the suffering and tragic dying, but the courage to believe in the kingdom of God at work in the world, and the commitment to act it out in our own lives no matter what – whether we live it out, or die for it.

It also doesn’t always mean becoming well-known and celebrated for it, either.

Sometimes it does, of course.  Some saints – some of the world’s followers of the way of justice and love, like the ones I’ve mentioned, do become public celebrities.  Known all over the world.  And more locally – like Georgina, named Citizen of the Year for the way she has sown seed after seed of God’s love for all, and God’s desire for the well-being of all in to the life of the community.

That such folks are named and recognized does not mean they’re better, different, or more naturally saintly than others – the rest of us.  (Sorry, Georgina!)  Rather, the award is a marker and a celebration of a certain level of constancy and success they have achieved in their own very-human struggle and journey to be faithful to what they know of God and God’s way.

Which means the award is also an encouragement to the rest of us who know the recipient, to know that if they, as human and fallible as they are (sorry again, Georgina!) – if they can be faithful to the best they know of God, and God’s love for the world and for others around them, and God’s desire for justice and the well-being of all in the opportunities open to them, so surely, by the grace of God, can we be in the opportunities given to us.

Because how many other people were there in that Palm Sunday celebration, who were critical to Jesus and necessary to God to make that procession what it was?  To make it a procession of the kingdom of God into the life of the world?

How many people – unnamed, unrecognized, ordinary people, did it take – giving praise to God for the gift of Jesus and the revelation of the kingdom; laying down the garments of their lives at his feet; and with all they were and all they could do, creating a pathway for him to come – a pathway of love and praise, a pathway of justice and peace, a pathway of God’s good will for the well-being of all?  A pathway of Christ alive in the world, and of kingdom-come in the day-to-day life of the world.

Because isn’t the same seed planted in all of us – the seed of God’s love for us, for others, and for all creation? 

Doesn’t it grow and bear fruit over time in all our lives regardless of where our life takes us – no matter whether it’s in the public eye, or more under the radar in day-by-day ordinariness? 

Aren’t we all in our own situations given opportunities to lace the lives of others around us – like spiking a punch, with a taste of God’s love? 

As we follow the way of Jesus, aren’t all our lives meant by God to be good seed sown into the life of the world, in both our living and our dying?