Sermon:
April 17, 2003
Maundy Thursday Service

Let me start with a pair of stories from Greece. Which, if not exactly around the corner from the Holy Land, is at least in the neighborhood. Actually, the first story takes place in Chania, at an airport on the west end of the island of Crete. On the particular day in question, an Olympia Airlines 727 is deplaning a group of 100 angry passengers into a crowded terminal. Pandemonium follows. Voices are raised, followed by fists. Women and children are wailing. Someone threatens to leap over the counter to punch the agent. Police appear, billy clubs at the ready. 

What has happened is this. The passengers were all destined for Heraklion at the other end of the island. Indeed, their luggage has already gone there on another plane. For reasons unclear, this Olympia Airlines 727 has landed at the wrong city and is now scheduled to fly elsewhere. What is left for the hundred passengers is a hard ride by bus, 150 miles to their destination. The passengers want blood. The hot-headed ones talk about commandeering a plane. Others make threats against the management of Olympia Airlines, complete with comments about management’s ancestry on their mother’s side. 

Suddenly, a well-dressed German tourist who, heretofore, has been pacing in small circles on the rim of the chaos, begins to shout at no one in particular: 

• Why am I here?
• Where am I going?
• What must I do?
• What will become of me?
• God in heaven, help me!

His cry is sufficiently frenzied so as to quiet all other chaos but his, as fellow travelers back cautiously away from him as if he were a mad dog in their midst. 

Suddenly a representative of Olympia Airlines steps forward to address him. “Excuse me, sir,” he says, “but you have asked some very old questions. We Greeks have been working on those questions for over two thousand years. They are not easy to answer….then or now. In the meantime, I do not know what help God in heaven may be. But we of Olympia Airlines will see to it that you get to Heraklion. So if you please, sir, get on the bus.” 

Moral of story: To everything there is a season….a time to fly….a time to cry….a time to shout….and a time to ask philosophical questions. But there is also a time to get on the bus. 

Story number two takes place in a sidewalk café on the Greek seacoast where two young Americans are arguing about whether human beings are basically bad or basically good. The animation of the conversation becomes even more understandable when I tell you that the two Americans are law students. First year law students. Having lived with one of those, I know that young lawyers cut their academic teeth on argumentation. They will debate anything, with anybody, at any time. And should they convince you that their position is right and yours is wrong, they will then switch sides and argue yours….just for the fun of it. 

In the middle of the argument, one of the students points to his glass of wine and suggests (sagely) that pondering whether human beings are basically bad or basically good is like trying to solve the riddle as to whether a wine glass is half empty or half full….in other words, a matter of perception. 

His companion disagrees. “Not so,” he says. “We can precisely calculate the amount of wine in a given glass at a given time, provided that proper definitions of ‘empty’ and ‘full’ can be agreed upon in advance.” So they motion for the waiter and inquire as to whether the café has any instruments with which to measure and calculate. 

The waiter, an old Greek wise in the ways of first year law students, asks the purpose of such a request, and is told that such measuring devices are needed to solve the question as to whether this particular wine glass is half empty or half full. The waiter looks at the two young men. Then he looks at the wine. Following which he smiles….picks up the glass….swirls the contents…. sniffs the aroma….and (with nary a word to anyone) drinks it down with great relish and walks away. 

Moral of story: Among the seasons listed earlier….there is a time to debate….and a time to drink the wine. 

Which brings us back to Jesus. It is late of an evening. This evening. Supper is over. And accompanied by three very good friends, Jesus goes to a small vest pocket garden to pray. He asks his friends to wait with him, perhaps even to pray with him. But with stomachs heavy with food and eyes heavy with stress, they fall asleep. So he prays alone. 

There is anguish in the prayer. He is described as being greatly troubled. For he knows that everything in his life….every road he has taken….every summons he has answered….every title he has assumed….every burden he has carried….have brought him to this place. 

Now he faces fear in this place (along with doubt in this place….darkness in this place….even loneliness in this place). After all, he is human. No matter how much divinity there may be in him, if he is ever going to feel the brunt of whatever humanity is in him, it is here. Therefore, questions abound in this place. Questions like:

• Why am I here?
• Where am I going?
• What must I do?
• What will become of me?
• God in heaven, can you help me?

Questions which culminate in the plea: “Father, if it be possible that there be any other way out of here than this, show it to me. Nevertheless, as thou wilt….” 

Actually, what he said was: “Father, if it be possible….I mean even remotely possible…. meaning, if it would all the same to you….let this cup pass. Yet, not what I will, but what thou wilt…” 

So what is “the cup” he hopes will pass? On other occasions, it would be perfectly appropriate to call it the cup of joy….the cup of laughter….the cup of abundance….the cup of blessing. In fact, were I to say the word “cup” and ask you to freely associate it with the word “Bible,” you would immediately reference the 23rd Psalm (as in “My cup runneth over”). And you would be talking about the half-full cup. 

But if we’re going to get properly into our cups this evening, we need to understand that the cup referenced in the Garden of Gethsemane is the half-empty cup….the cup of suffering (maybe even the cup of death). We recall the rebuke earlier offered to James and John when they came seeking positions of power and authority in the new kingdom. Said Jesus: “It is not for me to grant whether one of you sits at my right hand and the other of you sits at my left. Instead, let me ask you this. If you would presume to be at my side when all is said and done, do you know what being ‘at my side’ might lead to? In short, are you willing to drink the cup that I must drink?” And clearly, my friends, he is not talking about the cup that runneth over. He is talking about the cup that runneth out. 

There is a time to ask questions. And there is a time to get on the bus. Just as there is a time to debate great mysteries. And there is a time to drink the wine. 

My friends, I don’t know if your life is mostly bad with some good….or mostly good with some bad. Neither do I know if the great chess board of your life is black with white squares, or white with black squares. I don’t even know if it is better for you to be a hopeful pessimist or a cautious optimist. Nor can I discern (in the dark) if the cup on your table is presently spilling over in abundance or emptying slowly unto death. My guess is that about equal numbers of you are staring, this very night, at a glass that is half empty or a glass that is half full. 

Not that those aren’t interesting questions. And not that such might be an interesting debate. All I know is that sooner or later, people who follow Jesus are going to have to face a moment where they drink up and get on the bus. Tonight is that moment for Jesus. And tonight may be that moment for you.