THE HOPE THAT IS IN US

On this week’s American Idol, one of the contestants, Carly, sang the theme song from Jesus Christ, Superstar, Andrew Lloyd Webber’s long-running Broadway show. As some of you may recall, the show is about the last six days of Jesus’ life as seen through the eyes of a troubled Judas. Although Simon, the judge most contestants live to impress, told Carly, the distinctive young Irishwoman with an armful of tattoos, that her performance was one of the best that night, the next night Carly found herself in the bottom two. Ryan Seacrest, the show’s host, stated, “America voted, and Carly . . .” he paused for dramatic effect, “you’re going home.” Several of Carly’s fans, disgusted with the results, booed loudly, but Carly accepted the results graciously. She had chosen the song because it was fun to sing, and she seemed to have no regrets about her performance.

As I listened to her perform the song for her second and final time, I was once again struck by what Judas sings to Jesus:

“Every time I look at you
I don't understand
Why you let the things you did
Get so out of hand

You'd have managed better
If you'd had it planned
Now why'd you choose such a backward time
And such a strange land?

If you'd come today
You could have reached the whole nation
Israel in 4 BC had no mass communication
Don't you get me wrong
Only want to know

Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ
Who are you? What have you sacrificed?
Jesus Christ, Superstar
Do you think you're what they say you are?

Over the centuries, many people have said all kinds of things about Jesus.
Some say he is simply a good man – but is he distinguishable from other good men?
Some say he is a great teacher – but is he distinguishable from other great teachers?
Some say he is a mighty prophet – but is he distinguishable from other mighty prophets?

The Christians in late first century Asia Minor, to whom First Peter is written, believe that Jesus is the one – who through his death, resurrection, and vindication by God –brings believers to God. For that belief, they suffer slander, and even persecution from the surrounding culture. According to Biblical scholar David Bartlett, First Peter encourages these Christians “to be exemplary aliens in a land that does not welcome them. . . to be as upright as the most upright of their neighbors . . . to forge an identity that sets them apart without necessarily setting them in conflict with the pagans around them. . . to return good for evil, (and) blessing for slander.” Moreover, he urges them to “always be ready to make your defense to anyone who demands from you an accounting for the hope that is in you; yet do it with gentleness and reverence.”

How do contemporary Christians give an account for the hope that is in them?
Is Jesus the foundation for that hope?
Exactly who is Jesus for modern day Christians?

Some say, in no uncertain terms, that he is their Lord and Savior. The good news is that they are clear about their beliefs; the bad news is that some of them share that belief without “gentleness and reverence,” so much so that, when they begin to “evangelize,” most folk want to run the other way.

How do we give an accounting for the hope that is in us?

At the other end of the continuum are the folks that author and spiritual director, Parker Palmer, calls functional atheists. That is, their faith – as expressed by their church attendance on Sundays – does not inform their thoughts, attitudes or behaviors during the rest of the week. In other words, they claim to believe in God, but they function like atheists.

How do we give an accounting for the hope that is in us?

Then there are those who are somewhere in the middle. They believe in God, and most of them allow their faith to inform their day-to-day decisions. Still, many find it difficult to give an account for the hope that is in them – to talk about the difference that God makes in their lives. Rather than risk being viewed as Jesus freaks, many choose to remain quiet about their faith. They fear what the world fears – insults, slander, rejection.

How do we give an accounting for the hope that is in us?

Bartlett observes that God’s injunction to the prophet Isaiah to “not fear what they fear” reveals much “about the nature of idolatry. Idolatry, (he says), is not only worship of the wrong god, but also it is fear of the wrong power. It is to give to non-gods the power that should belong only to God. . . (For example), excessive nationalism may be the other face of the excessive fear of others. Egotism is the game we play to fend off our fear of our own insignificance. The need to constantly assert the superiority of our race or our faith or our way of living poorly masquerades our fear of others – that they may take away what we hold most dear, that what they hold most dear is better than what we have.”

There is more than one American idol.

Last Sunday I was at a clergy conference in Mississippi. One of the chaplains, a retired bishop, shared a moving story about a young man I’ll call Jimmy. Jimmy was 20 years old when Bishop Bob received a call from the Director of Christian Education at a local church about confirming him. Jimmy could recite the Lord’s prayer and knew some other basics about Christianity, so the bishop agreed to confirm him. On the day of his confirmation, Jimmy sat in the front pew with his parents. When Jimmy, the last one to be confirmed, approached the bishop, his parents stood on either side of him. The bishop asked Jimmy if he would prefer to stand or kneel. He answered, “I want to kneel,” so, with the help of his parents, Jimmy started to kneel.

When he was about halfway down, he stood up suddenly, and said, “Bishop, I want to say something.” “Yes?” the bishop replied. “I love Jesus, and Jesus loves me.” The bishop knew then that this was going to be no ordinary confirmation. Jimmy began to kneel again, and, again, when he was about halfway down, he stood up and said, “Bishop, I want to say something.” “Go ahead.” “These are my parents, and they love me.” He proceeded to kneel again, and, just as before, stood up suddenly and said, “Bishop, I want to say something else.” “Yes.” He turned around, and waving toward the congregation, said, “These people, bishop, these people love me. They love me just as I am. I can be me with them.” It was the folks at that church who showed Jimmy what Jesus is like.

As an aside – an important aside – I saw a bumper sticker the other day that read, “The more people I get to know, the more I like my dog.” And, as much as I love my dog, the first thought that popped into my mind was, “That’s because you don’t know the folk at Christ Church Cathedral.”

Anyway, a few months after his confirmation, Jimmy was living in a group home. On a Sunday when Bishop Bob was scheduled to visit, Jimmy was there with a group of about five friends – all standing on the first pew. When the bishop entered the church, Jimmy turned around and shouted, “I told you he would come.” His friends turned around, and Jimmy shouted, “We love you, Bishop!” Unusual as it is, Jimmy had given an account for the hope that is in him – and he invited his friends to “come and see.”

How do we invite others to see the difference Jesus makes in our lives?
And how do we welcome into our community those who – like Jimmy – may be very different from us?
Not just in church, where we expect ourselves to be welcoming, but at coffee hour, when we are tempted to interact only with those who are most like us?

How we behave towards the stranger reveals much about who Jesus is to us –
Do we believe that he reveals himself through others – even those who are different?
Do we believe he is willing to save us from our fears?
Do we believe he is able to give us hope for our future?

It reminds me of the story someone shared with me a few months ago. Apparently Jesus and Satan were having an on-going argument about who was better on the computer. They had been going at it for days, and frankly God was tired of hearing all the bickering.

Finally fed up, God said, "THAT'S IT! I have had enough. I am going to set up a test that will run for two hours, and from those results, I will judge who does the better job." So Satan and Jesus sat down at the keyboards and typed away.

They e-mailed.
They e-mailed with attachments.
They downloaded.
They did spreadsheets.
They wrote reports.
They created labels and cards.
They created charts and graphs.
They did some genealogy reports.
In fact, they did every job known to man.

Jesus worked with heavenly efficiency, and Satan was faster than hell.

Then, ten minutes before their time was up, lightning suddenly flashed across the sky, thunder rolled, rain poured, and, of course, the power went off. Satan stared at his blank screen and screamed every curse word known in the underworld. Jesus just sighed.

Finally the electricity came back on, and each of them restarted their computers. Satan started searching frantically, screaming: "It's gone! It's all GONE! "I lost everything!"

Meanwhile, Jesus quietly started printing out all of his files from the past two hours of work.

Satan screamed, "That's not fair! He cheated! How come he has all his work, and I don't have any?"

God shrugged and said softly,

“THAT’S BECAUSE JESUS SAVES.”

How do we give an accounting for the hope that is in us?