For a time such as this

 

Queen Esther (אֶסְתֵּר Hadassah) by Edwin Long

"For Such A Time As This"
St. John the Evangelist Episcopal Church, Milton, DE
Pentecost XIV - Proper 21 B
September 29, 2024

Esther 7:1-6, 9-10; 9:20-22
Psalm 124
James 5:13-20
Mark 9:38-50

Of course, I could be wrong, but I think it was Walter Brueggemann who said, “I take the bible too seriously to take it literally.” There is lots of humor in the bible but we miss it because we take it too literally. Take, for example, this morning’s Gospel. Granted, you have to embroider the story a little bit to find the humor, but stay with me and let’s find it together.

Jesus and his disciples have been walking together through Galilee and the Villages of Caesarea Philippi (which sounds to me like one of the many new suburban developments somewhere in Sussex County), through Capernaum. Along the way, the disciples have been talking amongst themselves about “who is the greatest”.  

Jesus says, “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.” He tells them that the Realm of God must be entered “as vulnerable as a little child.”

This morning, we hear John say to Jesus, “Teacher, we saw someone casting out demons in your name, and we tried to stop him, because he was not following us.” Did you catch that? John did not say, “He was not following YOU.” No, John said, “Not following US.”

Again, with the inflated ego. Follow US, not Jesus. Now, in my religious imagination, I think Mark left out a verse. Or, maybe someone coming after him decided that, since it was such a short verse, it could be dropped. But, I think that in between what John said and how Jesus answers could have probably been one of the most powerful short sentences in scripture since the verse, “And, Jesus wept.”

I think that before Jesus goes into the obvious hyperbole about tying millstones around the necks of people, and cutting off feet and hands and plucking out eyes, is probably the verse: “And, Jesus did a facepalm.”

I mean, seriously! How dense are these apostles? Well, probably about as dense as those of us who take the bible so literally that there have been those who have actually tied millstones around necks of people and watched them drown, or literally cut off body parts, comforted by their self-righteousness that they were only following the words of Jesus.  

The Bible has many funny moments—though you might not know it from the history of Christian interpretation. Nietzsche’s biggest complaint about Christians is that we are a joyless people. Theologian Paul Tillich said he almost left Christianity for the same reason.

One of the best examples of humor in the bible, not as well-known as the story of Jonah and the Whale, is the story of Esther. That reading was one of the options we have for today’s lesson from Hebrew Scripture, but since it was not chosen, allow me a few minutes to summarize the book for you, with the encouragement that you take a few moments out of your afternoon Sabbath, find your bible, dust it off, and read the Book of Esther. You won’t be disappointed. I promise.

I want to use the story of Esther because I think Jesus knew it and understood the tool of hyperbole as a way of making a point. And it certainly seems that the disciples need a verbal hit upside the head to understand something about leadership and ministry.

Fair warning: You may miss the humor in the book if you are reading it with your Victorian scruples intact. The great Protestant theologian Calvin didn’t include Esther in his biblical commentaries. And, the great theologian of the Reformation, Martin Luther, felt it had “too much pagan naughtiness.”

So, admit it. Now you want to run home and read it, right?

So, here's a brief summary: The Book of Esther tells the story celebrated at The Jewish Festival of Purim. It’s the story of how Queen Esther and her cousin Mordecai saved the Jewish people from the plot of the wicked Haman, who was advisor to the Persian King Ahasuerus and who tried to have the Jews destroyed.

Understand: they are Jews living in the Persian diaspora. They are there because they were under threat of genocide, living in a place where the religion at the time was a sort of dualism. Persians worshipped one Supreme God with occasional rare mentions of other Gods. Their Satan was elevated to a much higher power and position, a near equal and opposite to God.
 
Esther is not your typical saint. She doesn’t conduct herself like someone who is zealous about the law, yet she becomes a Jewish heroine. She doesn’t rise up from unsavory circumstances ringed with white blossoms of purity like St. Agnes, who was thrown into a brothel but remained, miraculously, immaculate. Esther is decidedly not a heroine of the nunnish type.

She becomes a heroine because she takes a bold risk of faith. Queen Esther decides to speak to the King about Haman’s plan to kill all the Jews even though an appearance at the King’s Court, without an invitation, is punishable by death. It’s the words of her uncle Mordecai that inspire her:

“For if you remain silent at this time, relief and deliverance for the Jews will arise from another place, but you and your father’s family will perish. And who knows but that you have come to your royal position for such a time as this?” (Esther 4:14)

Who knows but that you have come to your position for such a time as this? I don’t know about you, but I hear an echo of Mordecai’s words in the admonition of Jesus to the apostles:

“Do not stop him; for no one who does a deed of power in my name will be able soon afterward to speak evil of me. Whoever is not against us is for us.” (Mark 9:38-41)

We also hear an echo of this position in the words of James, the brother of Jesus, which we heard this morning:

“My brothers and sisters, if anyone among you wanders from the truth and is brought back by another, you should know that whoever brings back a sinner from wandering will save the sinner's soul from death and will cover a multitude of sins.” (James 5:13-19)

Whoever brings back a sinner from wandering.

Whoever is not against us is for us.

And, who knows that you have come to your position for such a time as this?

My friends, hear me: I know you are grieving this morning. I am keenly aware that last Sunday was your farewell to your beloved Pastor Tom. Your Senior Warden and I discussed this when we talked about my being with you this morning. As a Hospice Chaplain, I am well acquainted with the workings of grief. I know that the hearts of many of you are probably feeling a bit tender and sore. You are grieving and anxious and that is to be understood.

I know Tom came to you when you were not feeling loved or loveable. I know his love for you built up this congregation from a mere 15 to, at times, 75 – more at High Holy Days. I know some of you are afraid that you will never find another priest and pastor to love you the way Pastor Tom did. It’s going to be hard to trust anyone – me, other supply clergy, your interim priest, or even your new rector when she or he comes.

That’s a reasonable anxiety because here’s the hard truth: There will never be another Pastor Tom. But, here’s another truth: That does not mean that you are not loveable or that you will never find someone to love you again.

Here's another truth: In the midst of the pain of grief and anxiety of the unknown, sometimes we confuse taking things literally with taking things seriously. They are not the same. Taking things literally can cost you one of the strongest medicines known to the entire human enterprise: Laughter.

It’s so important not to take things literally but not so seriously that you lose the ability to laugh at yourself. Don’t be afraid to do a facepalm at yourself every now and again. I have no doubt that Jesus did. Because Jesus knew what it was to be human.

Voltaire said it best: "God is a comedian playing to an audience that is too afraid to laugh.”

Now, even now, God has already prepared people who will be raised up “for such a time as this”. There are those among you who learned the lessons of love of the past decade and are willing to take the risks of faith to trust others. Now, even now, God is already preparing leaders, laity and ordained, “for such a time as this” who will walk with you into the future.
 
In the midst of your grief and sorrow – which is good and right and proper for you to experience because you have had a great loss – know that we are people of the Eucharist and Resurrection. We are people of Thanksgiving and Life Eternal. God will never leave us comfortless. Be assured by the words of our Eucharistic liturgy during a funeral:

“. . . . for we know that life is changed, not ended.”

Life is changed, not ended. That includes our congregational life.

Know that there are Esthers and Mordecais, Eldads and Medads, and Joshua son of Nun, and yes, Hamans and unruly Kings among us. There are also wise teachers like James and Moses, and those who understand the hyperbole in the words of Jesus teaching who can help us laugh at ourselves and do a facepalm when that’s exactly the medicine we need to take.

Open your heart to it all, my friends. Nobody ever looked back and said, “I could have loved less.” Open your heart even though it makes you as vulnerable as a child.

For such is the Realm of God.

For such a time as this.

Amen.