St. Andrew's-Wesley United Church

Rev. Gary Paterson

March 28, 2010

Palm/Passion Sunday

Last Sunday, as church was winding down, and I began to anticipate my equivalent of Friday night relaxation, our caretaker, Tom Rose, came up to me, pen and paper in hand… “What’s the title for next week’s sermon? I need to put it up on the Burrard Street sign before I leave tonight.” Well, I must have looked like a deer in headlights, because he smiled, and gently reminded me, “Remember, the Oscar series is over, and those carefully prepared sermon titles… they’re finished. You need a new one for Palm Sunday.”

Now, sermon titles are a tricky business. You have to choose something general enough, that justifies heading off in several possible directions; on the other hand, it needs to be specific enough to spark interest, and sufficiently focussed to provide an initial starting point in sermon thinking. Well, I had been thinking about Palm Sunday and Holy Week, in a general way you understand, but sermon title? No such luck. So what I offered Tom was more of a “blurt” than anything else – “The Courage to Be” – not bad, I thought, and there’s a tip of the hat there to the famous theologian Paul Tillich – it’s a steal from one of his book titles, The Courage to Be. I thought, worst case scenario, I could haul the book down from my shelves, and even perhaps borrow a bit of his deathly prose.

However, on Tuesday I did exactly that…. and here’s what Tillich has to say about courage:

Courage is the self-affirmation of being in spite of the fact of non-being. It is the act of the individual self in taking the anxiety of non-being upon itself by affirming itself … in the anxiety of guilt and condemnation… every courage to be has openly or covertly a religious root. For religion is the state of being grasped by being itself.

That’s when I knew I was in trouble. I mean, I think I know what he is saying, and I agree, but it’s not the stuff from which sermons are made. Not immediately, at any rate.

So back to the drawing boards. To a memory – I was going through a hard time, and a friend of mine was doing her best to rouse my spirits. Now, Susan believed that speaking a word in a different language had the power to bring new meaning, new possibilities. We had been talking about facing challenges, and the need for patience and courage… “Ah,” she said… and fortunately she’s partial to French…. “what you need is “Coeur-age!” uttered in full French accent, with flourish and lilt. Couer-age… it carries so much more energy; Coeur-age… such flair, zest, liveliness. Beats good old English courage any day.

Still casting around… you know me, when in doubt, turn to poetry. And I came across just the thing, by Anne Sexton, very helpfully entitled, “Courage.” Listen to the images, those moments… this is a poem full of the courage to be:

It is in the small things we see it.

The child’s first step,

as awesome as an earthquake.

The first time you rode a bike,

wallowing up the sidewalk.

The first spanking when your heart

went on a journey all alone.

When they called you crybaby

or poor or fatty or crazy

and made you into an alien,

you drank their acid

and concealed it.

Later,

if you faced the death of bombs and bullets

you did not do it with a banner,

you did it with only a hat to

cover your heart.

You did not fondle the weakness inside you

though it was there.

Your courage was a small coal

that you kept swallowing.

If your buddy saved you

and died himself in so doing,

then his courage was not courage,

it was love; love as simple as shaving soap.

Later,

if you have endured a great despair,

then you did it alone,

getting a transfusion from the fire,

and picking the scabs off your heart,

then wringing it out like a sock.

Next, my kinsman, you powdered your sorrow,

you gave it a back rub

and then you covered it with a blanket

and after it had slept a while

it woke to the wings of the roses

and was transformed.

Later,

when you face old age and its natural conclusion

your courage will still be shown in the little ways,

each spring will be a sword you’ll sharpen,

those you love will live in a fever of love,

and you’ll bargain with the calendar

and at the last moment

when death opens the back door

you’ll put on your carpet slippers

and stride out.

The little things… that’s where we see courage; that’s where we discover it in our lives, from our first step to our last. We know what Tillich’s “courage to be” feels like, looks like; we have experienced it. In the face of all the challenges, in the darkness, confronting everything that says “No!”, we have responded with determination, daring and action… with courage.

So… “The Courage to Be” -- a friend… Coeur-age; a poem… in the little ways. Next I added a quick glimpse of a theological dictionary. There it was, courage, one of the four cardinal virtues (though often renamed as Fortitude)… pivotal precisely because it is needed if we are to exercise any of the other virtues. Without courage, how could we be honest, generous, kind? Easy to love in the good times, but when the tough times arrive, the bad times… hey, first hint of danger, I’m outta here. But then, add courage; sometimes a lot of it…. and something different happens. Not that you don’t know the weakness is inside, the fear, the worry… but you don’t fondle it; you continue in the right path despite the fear. The writer Anais Nin has pointed out that, “Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one’s courage.” That’s exactly it, isn’t it; my life, your life… it shrinks or expands depending on our courage. Are you able to drink the acid of mockery and prejudice, and keep on keeping on? Are you able, eventually, to pick the scabs off your heart, and let it love life again? Shrinking, expanding.

So… A friend, a poem, a dash of theology… but then… well, for me … a story. I think that’s why I’m in love with Scripture, it’s so full of poetry and theology but all wrapped in stories. With flesh and blood human beings. Like Jesus… and his last week of life; so gutsy, this Jewish rabbi from long ago. We can learn a lot from him. I came across a line from the writer Annie Dilliard, where she said, “You cannot test courage cautiously.” And I thought, “How true – how would I ever know if I really have enough courage until it’s tested?” And isn’t that just what happened for Jesus in what we now call Holy Week? You can’t test courage cautiously.

Palm Sunday… the day that Jesus arrived in Jerusalem… the courage to show up. Sounds so simple, but it’s absolutely essential. The courage to show up. Jesus didn’t have to go to Jerusalem, you know. He could have spent a few more years up north, away from the big city, the power centre; he could have continued teaching and inspiring villagers in Galilee. Instead, he chose to go right to the heart of it all… Jerusalem, the imperial governor’s palace, the holy temple, where all the authorities – political and religious, exercised their power. He showed up… and isn’t that what we’re all called to do… to show up… at the dinner table, at the bedside, where we’re needed, when there’s a call to justice and action; we need to find enough courage to show up for our own lives, wherever they may take us. Despite being nervous, cautious, scared the courage to show up when it matters.

So Jesus showed up in Jerusalem, and then, the very next day he was to be found in the courtyards of the temple, overthrowing the tables of the money changers, upsetting business… “You have made my father’s house a den of thieves.” Didn’t go down well, as you can imagine. Lot of angry people. But there Jesus was, exercising the courage to speak up. Publically… speaking the truth, speaking truth to power, to borrow a phrase from the Quakers. An honest voice, pointing out the contradictions and incongruencies… in people’s lives, as well as in the social and religious systems of his day. A prophetic voice… the courage to speak up… no more secrets; name the elephant in the living room; the abuse that nobody wants to mention; child poverty; the unwillingness to fund appropriate care and support for those living with mental illness; global warming. To speak up despite being thought of as tiresome, idealistic, boring, unwelcome; the courage to speak up despite the possible cost.

That was Tuesday and Wednesday… me, if I had been Jesus, I might have thought of disappearing on Thursday. You show up and speak up… and then you beat a strategic retreat. But that’s without the courage of hanging in. Despite all those sayings about the tough get going when the going gets tough. and saving your own skin, Jesus chose to stay… even knowing the consequences. There he was, on Thursday night, praying away, “O Father, let this cup pass from my lips; but in the end, not my will… only yours.” Jesus knew… and chose to remain present, open. If you face death by bomb or bullet or cross… you do it not with a banner but with only a hat over your heart. You hang in with a friend, with the troubled kid, the frail parent, the hospital bedside. You find the courage to hang in With the cause, the issue, the injustice that is close to your heart; you don’t give up. Homelessness is not going to be disappear overnight.

Which leads into the courage to accept the cost… there’s always a price. Maybe that’s why we’re tempted to duck. But hanging in on Thursday meant that Jesus had to face Friday… and crucifixion. That’s when he discovered the courage to accept suffering and death. He found the strength to pay the price for what you know to be true and just. It’s the courage to have your heart broken; to save the life of your buddy. It’s the courage to face our endings, as we move through the years, and life changes; and then that final change, when we must stride out that door, with or without our carpet slippers.

The courage to show up; to speak up; to hang in; and to accept the consequences, including suffering and death… that’s what this coming week is all about; the “courage to be.” Jesus is a powerful example of how we might live courageous lives. I remember, many years ago, singing in a children’s church choir… much like our kids today, here on the chancel steps… One song has stayed with me over these long years,

Jesus walked this lonesome valley,

He had to walk it by himself,

Oh nobody else, could walk it for him,

He had to walk it by himself.

And the next verse was a bit of a zinger:

You must walk this lonesome valley,

You have to walk it by yourself,

Oh nobody else can walk it for you

You have to walk it by yourself.

It wasn’t a happy song, and often it has almost felt like a burden, walking through this lonesome valley all by myself. Yes, there was Jesus, up ahead I guess, walking his valley… but it wasn’t always a good example that I needed. Truth be told, I had lots of those already. I mean, another one never hurt… but what I really needed was some way of finding more courage with which to walk my valley; I needed some help in the journey… cause I knew myself, and I wasn’t always and automatically the courageous type. What I needed was to be “en-couraged” – needed to get some of that courage into me, into my insides.

So let me talk about this for a moment… about how we get “en-couraged,” so that today’s sermon doesn’t just feel like another demand – “He did it. So can you. Now be courageous!” One way to be “en-couraged,” is to recognize the courage that is within you, a journey like that of the Lion in the Wizard of Oz. It is to be in touch with your heart’s passion, your, as the French would say, with your “Coeur.” Call it the spark of your being; call it one of the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit; call it being made in the image of God – but let the heat and light of the small burning coal in your very centre, radiate out. There is something within you that is intimately and essentially connected to something without, to the Spirit of Love, or as Paul Tillich might say, “being-itself” -- and when you know that, when you feel that, your “coeur-age” will grow.

We are encouraged not just from within, but by recognizing that we are not travelling alone. That “something without” that you are connected with… it is also accompanying you, is present beside you, available, with the possibility of relationship. An image, from the hymn from the L’Arche community,

I fear in the doubt and the dark of my journey,

But courage will come with sound of your steps by my side…

This is Jesus not only as good example; but as the embodiment of God’s love, present in our midst. Walking beside us, with us. This is the stuff of the 23rd Psalm… “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want… even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of fear, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me, thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.” That’s where courage comes from… knowing that we are not alone in this enterprise, we are not living our lives alone.

And to get a concrete sense of that, Jesus said, “When two or three are gathered in my name… I will be there.” When community happens, when we are connected with each other, our courage grows; sometimes it easier to be brave when someone is standing beside you. Sometimes when we come together, to tell the story, and to break the bread… all those small coals within each of us, they get connected, and our courage burns more brightly and clearly.

Maybe what we need is a transfusion from the fire, made possible when we recognize that we are part of a holy cosmic network, a web of energy, each one of us connected to the Spirit energy which flows through, and sustains, the universe. “I am the vine,” said Christ; “and you are the branches.” We are connected to the source, and therefore, capable of growing rich fruit. Maybe it comes in communion; or in a hundred different ways… but oh, courage grows and life expands when we are able to feel the fire, the energy, the love, being-itself, the Spirit, flowing into our veins.

Friends… we are entering Holy Week, which is an invitation to show up, speak out, hang in, and, yes, once again look at the face of suffering and death. But more than anything Holy Week is an invitation to live with… well, with “coeur-age”. Coeur-age, my friends.