Again & Again, We Draw on Courage

Text: John 12:1-19

Over these past few years, our church has become a sacred space for a group of folks who once called Myanmar home. 

Their families came here to the United States seeking opportunity and possibility and escape from violence they found welcome not only in our city, but here in this building. 

This week, at our Global Ministries meeting, I heard a report from National Justice for our Neighbors.  This incredible United Methodist organization provides legal assistance for immigrants, asylum seekers and refugees from across the globe.  In their clinics across the United States, they serve people from more than 122 countries. 

One of the top five nations in 2020 served is Myanmar… largely because of the JFON clinic right here in Des Moines. 

We’ve gotten to know these neighbors through Wednesday night suppers and VBS and third grade bible and by joining in with a few of their quarterly revivals. 

Over the last few months, my heart has ached for these new friends of ours as word came about a coup in their homeland. 

The seeds of democracy that were beginning to sprout have been hijacked by military forces that are determined to hang on to the power and position they enjoyed for over 70 years.  

As protestors have risen up in the streets, the military junta has responded with force.  Yesterday, 114 protestors were killed when the military switched to live ammo. 

Now, the people of Myanmar find themselves living in a situation that feels oh so familiar, and yet so hard to comprehend.

I reached out a few weeks ago to Mu and asked how we can pray for her community here and back in Myanmar.  Peace and stability are hard to come by, but she was grateful to know that they have our support. 

As I thought of these friends and neighbors of ours and the experience of their homeland, I began to consider the reality of the people of Jerusalem at the time of Jesus. 

It is easy to forget that Jerusalem and Israel were occupied by military might. 

The Roman Empire ruled the land… not the Israelites.

And the Jewish leaders we read about on these pages of scripture only had as much authority as the Romans allowed them to have.

Step out of line or raise too much fuss and their positions could just as easily be taken away.  

The longing for a Savior was not just a spiritual yearning. 

It was political, too.   

It was about God toppling over all of the systems and powers and authorities that were holding the people back.    

It was about God’s promised future taking root and becoming real, not in some heavenly reality, but on earth, on that land, in that place. 

In the gospels, we hear glimpses of this promise:  “Thy will be done on earth.”

“God became flesh and lived among us.”

“ The Kingdom of Heaven is here.”

In the gospel of John in particular, which we have been following for a few weeks, the ministry of Jesus and the inbreaking of God’s reign is causing a lot of friction and tension.

Every step of the way, every sign, every teaching is creating conflict with the religious, political, and social establishments. 

Upending the world as they knew it.

And all of this comes to a head in chapter 11 when Jesus raises Lazarus from the dead. 

Lazarus lives near Jerusalem and going there to heal… or to raise him… was itself a risky proposition. 

But the love of Jesus calls Lazarus out of the tomb, knowing that it would cost his own life.

And then, knowing that people wanted to kill him…

Knowing that the powers of this world wanted to destroy his message…

Knowing that everything was on the line…

Jesus entered Jerusalem. Not quietly. Not undercover.

But drawing upon the strength of scripture and tradition and the community, he stages a kind of political theatre.

He uses Messianic imagery from the scriptures, riding on the colt, a sign of a King entering the city and he does it perhaps at the same time as the Roman governor, Pilate, would have been paraded into Jerusalem for the feast by another gate.   

It was a living, breathing protest against those in power.

In the same moment that hands were lifted in praise, others were lifted in shouts of accusation.

And those who showed up to line the streets and shout their, “Hosannas!” were doing so at their own risk. 

In her piece, “Through the Palms,” Rev. Lauren Wright Pittman tries to capture this moment. You can see both the fingers pointing and the hands lifted. 

In the midst of it all, Jesus pauses. 

When we have a target on our back, sometimes we need to stop and steel ourselves.

We need to draw on courage.

Pittman writes about what Jesus must have been imagining as he closed his eyes and stroked the donkey’s hair… the anguish of Mary and Martha, the fragrance of the burial perfume, the judging glare of Judas… reminders of what these steps into Jerusalem would entail… death and resistance and misunderstanding.

Pittman offers this image, “as a reminder to call upon God for the courage you need to rest and recharge for the work ahead.  But I hope it also heartens you to move forward in courage, even in the midst of great resistance.”

The very word, courage, comes from the Latin word for heart. 

“Courage is deep within us;” Rev. Lisle Gwynn Garrity writes, “drawing on courage is both internal and external.  We often find it when we most need it, when everything else has been stripped away.”

When we draw upon God, upon our traditions, upon one another, we find the strength we need to “take heart” and keep going. 

There is so much in our world today that calls for courageous action. 

Whether it is standing up to white supremacy, or challenging injustice in institutions, or advocating for the vulnerable in the halls of congress…

Or more ordinary, every day things like challenging a bully in your life or speaking up for yourself…

Whether it is finding the courage to address your own mental health, or to search for a new job that brings you life and allows you to use your gifts…

When we catch a glimpse of how things could be, sometimes we need to be still and recharge our spirits and connect with that well of strength in our own hearts to step forward and act.

Like faithful servants and prophets and disciples before us, we draw on courage to move towards the vision of who and what God desires this world to become. 

And often, when we tap into that courage we find creative ways of resisting and challenging the world as it is. 

Like the men and women and children that lined the streets on Palm Sunday to wave branches and shout hosannas and to call out for a new king to come and save us… even if it meant speaking out against forces that could kill them.

Or the ways that everyday folks in Myanmar are living out this kind of courageous Palm Sunday protest against the military forces oppressing the democratic spirit. 

Even in the midst of deadly response from the military junta, they are taking to the streets to resist. The images shared here are from Frontier Myanmar, a community of independent journalists in the country. 

The theologian and poet, Maren Tirabassi, captured the courageous spirit of their protest in her poem, “Hope is a bag of onions”

I am praying daily for the people of Myanmar and for our neighbors here…

and I hope you will join me.

And I hope that we might all draw on the courage of Christ as we live out our faith in this world, that we might stand up for the vulnerable, and speak out against things that would destroy, and together build a world that looks more and more like the reign of God every single day.