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Easter Feelings , A Dialogue Sermon with Salome |
Mark 16: 1-7
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© John Ewing Roberts |
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Pastor It's that time again, Easter... - time to celebrate that Christ is risen, - time to feel afresh what his life means for us, - time for... (Salome enters interrupting with some irritation and passion) Salome (hereafter bold lines are Salome's) ...time for you to try and deal with male preachers' guilt by telling us once more that the women were the last at the cross and first at the tomb. True enough, but I think these people deserve to hear another voice, a woman's voice, on Easter Sunday! (Pastor steps out and stands beside pulpit.) Excuse me, who on earth are you? I'm Salome (pronounced Sal-o-may'), you should know who I am. (Pastor walks to small table while speaking.) Sure, Salome (pronounced Sa-lo'-me), you're that girl who danced so well that Herod got excited and cut off the head of John the Baptist. Where are your seven veils? I think we need to talk! Are you going to dance for us? (Pastor motions to Salome to come and sit down. When she sits, he sits.) No, I'm a different Sal-o-may', and before I straighten you out on who I am, please pronounce my name the way I do. But's that not the way it's pronounced in Bible dictionaries. It's Sa-lo'-me, not Sal-o-may'. Look, it's my name, and please be kind enough to pronounce it the way I like it. If "Sal-o-may" was good enough for Richard (deliberately mispronounce Strauss' first name by using the standard English pronunciation of "Richard") Strauss in his opera, then it ought to be good enough for you. Ok, Salome (hereafter her preferred pronunciation is used), but he liked to be called "Richard" (pronounced with a hard -ch-), and his opera was about the dancing girl. But if you're not going to dance for us, explain which Salome you are. All right, but pay close attention, because you need to be able to put together two gospels. Mark says three women saw the crucifixion on Friday and went to the tomb on Sunday, two called Mary and one named Salome. That's me, Salome. Matthew says two of the women were named Mary and the third was the mother of the sons of Zebedee. That's me, Salome, the mother of James and John, the sons of Zebedee. (proudly) You all should know who I am. I was at the cross and at the tomb. I am the mother of two disciples. Not so fast, Salome. I recognize who you are and I respect you for it, but that part about your sons, James and John, reminds me of something else about you. I was afraid you would bring that up. Yeah, I remember now, how you went to Jesus to ask a "favor." You wanted him to declare that your two sons would sit one at his right hand and the other at his left when he came into his kingdom. As I recall, he told you that you didn't know what you were talking about. Well, first of all, I had a right to ask a favor. I had followed him since the beginning in Galilee. I had left my husband Zebedee to run the fishing business by himself. And I left a fairly comfortable home, if I do say so myself. And I had given a good share of my money. I had a perfect right to ask a favor. Maybe so, but how did you feel when Jesus put you down like that? I felt a flash of rage. Then I felt embarrassed and humiliated. And as he went on about my boys not being able to drink of his cup, I wasn't sure what he was talking about. Whatever he meant, it didn't make sense because my boys can handle anything. I heard they were called "the sons of thunder" because they had such hot tempers. Any truth in that? (Spoken with rising anger) Don't even think about implying that they got those tempers from me. We're not hot headed in our family, just passionate and intense. Do you understand me? Ok, ok, but let me ask you this - when that ... uh, exchange took place with Jesus about your sons, why didn't you just get out of there and go back home to Capernaum? Nobody likes constructive criticism. I mean, how could you go on? It must have been horribly embarrassing. Nowadays, when people get their feathers the least bit ruffled, they get hostile or at least passive aggressive; they pout, drop out, and the gossip starts up. Well, I felt like doing all those things, but to tell the truth, I would have been embarrassed to go back and face those people after I had given up so much when I left. But as strong as those feelings were, I had even stronger feelings about Jesus. I wasn't going to give up what I had when I was close to him. I never felt so alive, so close to the One who gave me life, as when I was with Jesus. When I was with him, I felt all the power of God was enclosed in tht one person. There was no way I was going to give up all that just to go off and pout. So you stayed with him to the end. I'll give you this - you've got lots of courage. The men ran off - you could have been killed yourself. You actually saw Jesus die. What was that like? Well, I was a long way off. The Romans were big on crowd control. But I could see, I could hear. He spoke seven times. Yes, we know about the seven last words, and I want to ask you about that in a minute, but I want to ask you how you felt as you watched him die. Did you have a flashback to the day you were so angry at him for putting you down over your request for your sons? I was afraid you'd ask that. Yes, I remembered that moment, and for an instant, I felt again the surge of anger and fury that only a mother can feel when she thinks her child has been treated badly. But in the next instant I felt sick, nearly nauseated with shame and guilt. He was dying, and I was replaying that old anger. (Salome stands and moves to side of cross; Pastor joins her on other side of cross.) But at that very moment I heard him say, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." Like so much that he said, what was directed at someone else worked for all of us. And that moment I knew he had forgiven my old fury and my return to it. He is so wonderful...to be able to forgive while he was in pain, while he was dying. You see why I could not leave him, why I had to be there. The word of forgiveness is my favorite of the seven sayings Jesus spoke from the cross, but I wanted to ask you about another one. What did you think when Jesus looked at Mary, his mother, and John, your son, and said, "Woman, here is your son. Here is your mother." You're too hard on me. (Pauses) All right, I'll tell you the truth. I didn't like it one bit. I knew someone would have to take care of Mary; Joseph was dead. But Jesus had brothers and sisters, not to mention all sorts of other followers. Why my son, John? I understand. You were counting on John to take care of you in your old age, but if he had to take care of Mary, you would have to share him. That's right. On Sunday morning as I was walking behind Mary on the way to the tomb, I kept thinking about how I had lost out. Then it came to me - Mary's son was dead, mine was alive; how could I have been so wrapped up in my own feelings when her grief was so great? But her son turned out to be very much alive, didn't he? Yes, Jesus Christ lives - that's why we're here today. This is my last question about your feelings - thanks for being so patient with me. What were your feelings on that first Easter Sunday? That's easy - I had three overpowering sensations: - first, Jesus was alive. He was alive all around me. He was alive inside of me. He had beaten sin and death. Because he was alive, we would live also. That's number one! - second, it dawned on me that I had two sons, James and John. If John was busy with Mary, I'd still be all right. James would be there for me. Jesus knew what he was doing. He was too thoughtful to leave me alone. - third, I figured out that in a way I had gotten after all that favor I had asked Jesus. I wanted a place of honor for my sons in Jesus' kingdom. What greater honor could he give than entrusting the care of his mother and at the same time leaving a way for me to be cared for too? But the main thing, Jesus is alive. I can't say any more than that. It's time for me to go now. (As Salome exits, pastor repeats the last line and moves into the opening of the sermon, and beyond.) It's time to go now. It's that time again, Easter... - time to celebrate that Christ is risen, - time to feel afresh what his life means for us, - time to hear the old story in a new voice, a female voice, - time to hang in there when our feelings are hurt, - time to stick close to Jesus when everything's falling apart, - time to stay by the cross on all of life's Good Fridays, - time to expect Easter surprises and victories beyond our wildest hopes and sharpest understanding; - time to feel in every fiber of our being that Jesus lives! [This sermon is for circulation within the Woodbrook congregation and may not be reproduced without permission.] |