Jubilee

Sermon for Sunday, January 24, 2010
Scriptures: Leviticus 25:8-12, Luke 4:14-21

Lithuanians love basketball. So when our mission team arrived in the summer of 2000 to a United Methodist church in the slums of Kaunas, one of our first orders of business was replacing their old basketball hoop. In the parking lot of the church was an old, dilapidated basketball hoop. The frame was rusty, the backboard half missing, the net completely missing, and the rim was severely bent down due to years of slam dunk abuse. Yet the neighborhood teens played on – it was this hoop or nothing. But we Americans would not stand for such terrible athletic equipment, so we bought them a brand new hoop. The rest of our 2 weeks there, countless hours were spent in pickup basketball games between us and the neighborhood teenagers. Sometimes we played Americans vs. Lithuanians, sometimes we mixed it up. They trash talked us in Lithuanian, and we trash talked back in English, neither side understanding the other but all of us busting up laughing. And with this being my first trip out of the country, I distinctly remember being amazed at the connections we made on that basketball court despite the many differences between us. We were Americans from the suburbs of Pittsburgh, and they were Lithuanians from the slums of Kaunas. We were from different cultures, spoke different languages, ate different food, participated in different local customs. In many ways, we just didn’t connect with each other. But we quickly found that, all of us being around the same age, we enjoyed many of the same things – trash talking on the basketball court, hanging out with friends, chasing girls. And, if it wasn’t for a common connection to Jesus Christ through the United Methodist Church, we probably would never have met. And with those pickup basketball games, where cultural and language barriers threatened to divide us, we all shared sacred moments of fellowship with people that lived half a world away from us.

Seminarians love to argue. I remember many class periods when debates and arguments raged on for long periods of time. We’d debate the divinity of Christ. We’d argue over theology until we were blue in the face. We’d disagree over the proper way to minister with the poor. We’d challenge each other on ethical and moral issues. And arguments of all kinds would often spill out of the classroom and into the hallway, the courtyard, or the student lounge. But there was one place that those debates and arguments never happened: Cannon Chapel. Our worship space was used for more than worship, but we never used it as a forum for debate. No, we knew that a sanctuary was just that – a safe space. It was a space set apart as sacred, way too sacred to defile with our petty squabbles with each other.

The rhythm of a typical day at our seminary included morning classes leading up to an 11:00 worship service, followed by lunch, then a slew of afternoon classes. I always loved worship in seminary. We would spend mornings with each other debating and arguing the topic of the day, knowing that in large part our debates were fueled by all the differences among us. We had students from all around the world. We had students of all different Christian denominations. We were a smorgasboard of race, ethnicity, nationality, and culture. We had a variety of opinions, experiences, and lifestyles. We were all so different, yet we shared a desire to study and worship the one true God. I used to love the contrast between class and worship. One minute, we’d be arguing with each other over a theological tenet that seemed to take on ultimate importance, and the next minute we’d be singing “Marching to Zion” side by side. In the morning, we’d admit that we didn’t always understand or agree with each other’s life choices, but then we’d serve each other communion, and sit down to lunch together. Despite our many differences, we always found a way to rise above those barriers of race, class, culture, denomination, and lifestyle. And no matter what our relationships the rest of the day, worship was always a truly sacred time of glorifying God side by side with brothers and sisters in Christ.

The people of Haiti have suffered yet another great tragedy. I’ve been amazed these last couple of weeks how much people have been willing to reach out to the people of Haiti. I wish that we had all been better about it before the earthquake, but at least people are sending aid to the Haitians now. And it’s amazing how relief is coming in from all over the world, from religious as well as secular organizations, from individuals as well as governments. United Methodists are partnering with Muslims, Catholics and Protestants are singing hymns together on the streets of Port-au-Prince, and even the United States and Cuban governments have been cooperating to get aid to Haiti more quickly. In a country where a great tragedy has taken place, people are responding with sacred moments of jubilee, ignoring barriers and simply helping brothers and sisters in need.

Tibetan Buddhist monks know how to have a good time. I’ll never forget the day I learned this. The late afternoon sun was shining beautifully on the quad of Emory University, and in the patch of grass between the theological library and the ancient artifact museum, we were holding a fiercely competitive ultimate Frisbee game. As usual, we had to dodge all the passerby on the sidewalks, but on this particular day, there was one group of passerby we just couldn’t ignore. It was a group of 3 Tibetan Buddhist monks, complete with their traditional red and yellow robes and shaved heads. As the monks approached, they looked upon our Frisbee game with great interest. So, we invited them to play Frisbee with us. For the next 5 or 10 minutes, we just jogged around throwing the Frisbee back and forth with these Buddhist monks. There was a cultural barrier, a language barrier, a religious barrier, and even a wardrobe barrier, but we took a break from our competitive game and simply played with the monks. We pretended to play a real game, but the rules were suspended, and we weren’t keeping score or anything. But I don’t think I’ve ever had so much fun in my life. It was, in one word, awesome. It was truly a sacred moment that I will never forget.

I’m guessing that the people who attended the synagogue in Nazareth on the day Jesus got up and spoke experienced an unforgettable moment as well. The hometown boy has returned, and is asked to read scripture in worship. He chooses Isaiah 61, and reads the following:

The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,
Because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives,
And recovery of sight to the blind,
To let the oppressed go free,
To proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.

And he rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant, and sat down. Now the year of the Lord’s favor is a reference to the year of jubilee, which according to Leviticus was to be celebrated every 50th year. The year of jubilee was defined by many of the things proclaimed in this passage: good news for the poor, release to captives, freedom from oppression. The year of jubilee was a time when families were reunited, all debts were forgiven, and slaves were freed. For the year of jubilee, everyone was equal. The barriers that usually got in the way of human relationships – finances, disagreements, and exerting power over one another – were wiped clean. Every 50th year, jubilee was celebrated, and as it says in Leviticus, it was a very holy time. In the year of jubilee, people were, for a brief time, lifted above the barriers that separated them into a sacred moment of joy and fellowship with each other.

Here in the 4th chapter of the Gospel of Luke, Jesus has come to proclaim jubilee once again. Empowered by the Holy Spirit, he has come to wipe away all debts, eliminate our relationships of power with each other, put away all our disagreements, and reunite us with each other and with God. He has come to usher in God’s kingdom, available for everyone, and he announces to the worshippers that the kingdom of God will look a lot like the year of jubilee. The kingdom of God is defined by holy times of unencumbered relationships with each other.

That fall day when we played Frisbee with the Tibetan Buddhist monks, I remember thinking, “This is what heaven must feels like.” When I would attend worship with my classmates in seminary, I used to feel like together, we were lifted from the din of classroom arguments into a shared encounter with the divine. And over the last couple of weeks, I’ve looked upon all the relief efforts in Haiti and thought, these relief workers are truly the hands and feet of Christ. These stories I’ve shared with you are just a few examples of how, by the power of the Holy Spirit, we all experience jubilee moments in our lives from time to time.

Leviticus 25:12 defines a jubilee moment as a moment that is holy to us. Jubilee moments are holy moments, filled with the Holy Spirit, that lift us above the ordinary, above the differences, above the barriers. They are moments defined by an encounter with the divine, relating with each other simply as brothers and sisters beloved by God. They are even moments that give us glimpses of the glory of the kingdom of God. What are the jubilee moments in your life? Has the Holy Spirit led you to jubilee recently? Have you shared in holy fellowship as you’ve reunited with a group of friends? Have you put aside differences with relatives to share a meal together? Have you worshipped or served alongside someone of a different denomination? Have you played basketball with Lithuanians or ultimate Frisbee with a trio of Tibetan Buddhist monks?
I’d like for you to take some time to think about jubilee moments in your own life. When has the sacred lifted you above the ordinary? When have you felt the Spirit leading you into perfect relationships with your neighbors, even if just for a moment? When have you felt the presence of Jesus Christ providing you a moment defined by holiness and pure fellowship with your brothers and sisters? As you leave this place, think about your own experiences of jubilee. Write them down. Say a prayer of thanksgiving for those moments. And remember that those moments are the work of God, giving us glimpses of the kingdom of heaven by the presence of Jesus Christ and the power of the Holy Spirit.

And as you move forward, I encourage you to pay close attention for the jubilee moments in your life. Let the Holy Spirit continue to lift you at times from the ordinary and into the experience of the divine. Let Jesus usher in God’s kingdom for you, one jubilee moment at a time. For the year of the Lord’s favor is here. Let us proclaim and celebrate the jubilee moments in our lives. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.