Resolve: a sermon for Holy Week
“…and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world… ”
This poem came to me in the midst of a big transition in my life. I was pulling away from the religion of my childhood and from the expectations of people who I dearly loved to move into a journey that was deeply unknown with all sorts of risks - many of which have turned out to be true.
But there was a new voice, a deeper sound inviting me forward.
Over time, I’ve shared this poem with others who are in a similar place of transition. You know those places where no one else can make the decision you need to make. No one else can take the next step.
In reality, this is the truth each moment of our lives.
“Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms – to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.”
Victor Frankl said in a familiar quote: “Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms – to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way.”
Too often, we say our choices are inevitable. We want to blame our family of origin, the actions of others, the circumstances in our lives … and yes, we are deeply affected by the realities of other’s choices and the brokenness of our world.
But there is a voice within us that is deeper than blame, deeper than shame, deeper than our brokenness and that remains unaffected by the circumstances around us.
I believe this is the voice of God. The voice of our own soul. The place within each of us, created in God’s image, where God loves us.
Most of us lose that voice somewhere along the way. We long to hear the voice of love but we’re nervous around it, afraid we’ll be asked to give too much, release what we hold dear, live in trust rather than control.
But the voice of love is there, quietly inviting us to more. Inviting us to live beyond the other voices. Inviting us to find the place of truth and grace and love. Inviting us to be faithful. Not faithful to a remote God who is demanding and judgmental, but faithful to what is most deeply true in us, in the world. Faithful to love.
I recently read a commentary on the journey of Jesus to the cross and they commented how extraordinary it is that Jesus gave UP his divinity when he went to the cross. You may have heard statements like this in the past:
“He could have saved himself, but he didn’t.”
“He denied his divinity/the part of him that was God in order to identify with us as humans.”
More and more, that’s not how I read it.
I see that Jesus’ divinity/his God-self made itself present in his capacity to take each step into Jerusalem.
We see his divinity in his capacity to be present to God as he begs to be released from the pain.
His divinity is evident in his love for his disciples even as they abandon and betray him.
His divinity comes fully into blossom in his refusal to place the blame on others or pass on the violence that is inflicted on him.
His divinity shows up in each step that defies the religious authorities, threatens the empire, frightens and devastates his mother, completely disappoints the expectations of his followers and leaves him exposed and alone for a few very awful days.
Why did he do it? How did he do it?
You may remember that the last Sunday before Lent began 5 weeks ago is “Transfiguration Sunday,” when we look at the moment where Jesus was physically transformed and heard the voice of God speaking to him above the voices of his disciples.
The disciples wanted to enshrine his divinity. They wanted to make it a formula for success. And the voice of God says, “This is my Son, my Chosen, listen to him!”
This is the voice Jesus is listening to as he puts one foot in front of the other. This is the voice that is speaking within us as well, inviting us to forward into love.
Father Greg Boyle who founded Homeboy Industries in Los Angeles, which is the largest gang-intervention, rehabilitation, and re-entry program in the world asks us this question:
“Can we stay faithful and persistent in our fidelity even when things seem not to succeed? I suppose Jesus could have chosen a strategy that worked better (evidence-based outcomes) — that didn’t end in the Cross — but he couldn’t find a strategy more soaked with fidelity than the one he embraced.”
Life is not easy or fair. This world is deeply soaked in fear, blame, shame and violence.
Will we live our lives by strategies soaked in fidelity to love?
Will we listen to the voice of God’s love for us - a voice so embedded in us that it is the voice you will recognize as your very own: the place of your truest contentment; the place of joy, hope, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness; the voice that gives you the resolve to take the next step deeper into who you are called to be in this world.
Will you listen to that voice?
The prophet Isaiah in the Scripture read earlier discovered what listening to that voice felt like when he said,
“The Lord God has given me the tongue of a teacher,
that I may know how to sustain the weary with a word.
Morning by morning God wakens - wakens my ear,
to listen as those who are taught…
God helps me; therefore I have not been disgraced;
therefore I have set my face like flint,
and I know that I shall not be put to shame;
the one who vindicates me is near.”
The secret is that as hard as listening to the voice of love and following it is, it is the place of our deepest satisfaction. The prophet discovers such deep joy in listening to that voice - he finds his calling and purpose when he listens to it.
May we also be those who journey into love. May we be the presence of love in the presence of fear and hate.
For love conquers all.
Amen.