Bridging the Distance

At the top of the steps, he turns and then makes an hour-long speech, after the manner of the great Greek and Roman orators, telling the sullen Jews how fortunate they are at last to be under the just, orderly, and capable government of Rome and its distant Caesar.

As the climax of the grand day, the commander makes a small offering at the altar of the god Apollo that has been installed right there at the Temple, just to remind everyone who is in charge of things, just to prove who and whose god is running the show.

And then one day there is another procession that enters the city.

Here comes a rabbi, riding a donkey, the sign of peace, followed by a dozen or so bedraggled disciples from the countryside.

They are not welcomed by large crowds, but by the clamor of children and adults who have been tagging along, the folks who wave palm branches and shout “Hosanna, Save Lord.”

No army, no captives to show off, no glint of armor, no hour-long oration to impress the intelligentsia.

It is just loud enough to get the attention of the religious authorities who stand apprehensively on the right side of our icon today, trying to figure out how to keep this rabbi quiet so that the Romans won't become even more oppressive to them and their order of things.

Such a distance between these two parades, not in location but in spirit, intent, and outcome.

It is the most political situation imaginable.

At the root of that word politics is the Greek word polis, which also shows up in other English words such as metropolis.

Most of the uses of that Greek word have something to do with city or people of the city, but its earliest use was to describe the stronghold at the center of the city, like the Acropolis in Athens, that steep, rocky hill in the center of the city to which one could retreat, a defensible position from which to fight an invader.

So the question is where is the stronghold for the people?

Is it in the military might of the invading Romans, now ensconced in the Antonia fortress overlooking and attached to the Temple, or is it in the word and promise of the itinerant rabbi Jesus?

That which seems to be so far away from reality at length becomes the greatest reality.

The fortress for the people is not of stone and steel, but in the anticipation of God's final actions which will enliven what they do day by day after Jesus' resurrection.

But before we get there, we pause to think about the great distances involved.

As we listen to the Passion story, it shadows seem to increase.

We recognize that in our Friday night service as the lights are dimmed throughout the service until they are all extinguished and we leave in darkness until the service resumes at the Vigil on Saturday evening.

It is a way of recognizing that the disciples gradually fall away from Jesus in sorrow or dismay as the story progresses.

As Jesus is led away, Peter follows “at a distance.”

And then he distances himself by denying 3x that he even knows Jesus.

When Jesus is crucified, the women stood “at a distance.”

But we also know the stories of how Jesus does something about these distances that we make.

--Most importantly, we know that Jesus offers himself in Holy Communion in order to break the distance between us and him.

--On the cross, Jesus verbally reaches to embrace the the thief who stammers a confession of faith [Luke 23:42]

--We had a demonstration several weeks ago when we read Jesus' story of the Father's love, where the father sees his younger, wayward son “when he was still far off” and runs to him, to welcome him and to protect him from the hatred of the villagers. [Luke 15:20]

--On an Easter season Sunday we hear of the two disciples on the road to Emmaus, the ones who are walking away from Jerusalem in sorrow to try to pick up the pieces of their lives after the disaster of Jesus' crucifixion.

These are the ones to whom Jesus comes near [Luke 24:15] and opens to them the meaning of the scriptures about himself.

--On another Easter season Sunday we hear the story of the Ethiopian eunuch who was on the road to Gaza, one who was separated from those who worship in the temple, because of his physical condition.

In the name of Jesus, Philip comes near to him, and is invited to explain the good news of Jesus to him.

The distance between the mutilated man and the worship of God is bridged by the word of Jesus mediated by Philip. [Acts 8:26-40]

Distances bridged, old hatreds and suspicions overcome, a new community of faith formed.

What wonderful news it is, brought about by this passion story of Jesus, the story of distances we make between ourselves and God, and how the Lord Jesus bridges them. Amen.

Please note: The preceding sermon is provided as a resource for the thought, prayer, and meditation of the members and friends of St. Mark's. It is the residue of a verbal event, and thus it does not have academic footnotes and other details that would be expected in a written document. The writer gladly acknowledges the prior thought and work of many Christians before him.