Lament for those left out
POST BY MATT MCCOY
10 minute read
Note: This is the fourth and final blog for Lent 2021. We’ve been exploring the story of Palm Sunday through all four blogs, and you can find the previous three blogs HERE. We’ve also written three laments, and you can find those laments HERE. This coming Sunday is actually Palm Sunday, and we’ll write and pray our fourth and final lament together Sunday night. Even if you haven’t been to any of the previous lament services, I encourage you to check this one out.
Americans love comfort, and I love comfort.
I’m writing this blog while wearing my pajamas. As a morning person, I do my best creative work early in the morning, so I tend to write these blogs early on Tuesday morning. Right now I’m sitting in my nice office chair, in my office, at my desk, as I do on every Tuesday morning. It’s a comfortable rhythm, and it works really well for me.
I am a huge fan of pajamas, and prior to the coronavirus I would’ve worn pajamas to church and to work meetings. For sure. But we live in a culture where pajamas-in-public would signal a lack of seriousness, care, and respect to the people around me, and I wouldn’t want to cause that sort of selfish disruption to others, so I didn’t do that. Pre-pandemic, that is.
Matching Christmas pajamas!
All these zoom meetings have given me the opportunity to wear pajamas to all sorts of events that I’d never be able to do otherwise! I’ve worn pajamas to church, to board meetings, to bank meetings, to just about anything and everything. I’ve loved it. Of all the strange little perks of the pandemic, one of the ones I’ll miss the most is being able to look at my calendar and say, “I think I’m gonna wear pajamas to that meeting.”
But I haven’t actually worn pajamas all day for an entire year, and that’s because of my love for my wife, Denise.
You see, she doesn’t want to see me in pajamas everyday, because that would signal a lack of seriousness, care, and respect to her. I wouldn’t want to cause that sort of selfish disruption to her, either. I love Denise more than I love pajamas.
Simple enough so far. Let’s hold onto this playful example as we look at how our love for comfort affects our love for church.
This coming Sunday we’re going to create and pray a lament together, and we’re going to ask the exact same question we asked two services ago:
How does Spring Church worship in ways that effortlessly excludes our uncommon friends?
Two services ago we asked that question, and we lamented our racial brokenness, and how we don’t really know how to worship in a way that reflects the diversity of the nations in the story of Pentecost or in the story of heaven in Revelation 7. Our uncommon friends from different races are effortlessly excluded, and that’s something worth lamenting.
This coming service we’re going to ask that question again, except we’re going to put the spotlight on another group of people who feature prominently in the story of Palm Sunday:
the youth and people who live with disabilities.
As we return to the story of Palm Sunday, let’s remember that the people in Jerusalem are celebrating Passover. It’s a HUGE celebration, and Jerusalem would be bursting at the seams with people coming to worship at the temple. Any family arriving to worship would have to get two things accomplished:
They would have to get their money exchanged into the temple currency,
And they would have to buy a ceremonially clean animal.
But, as we remember from two services ago, the gentile families were effortlessness excluded from worship because the money changers and animal vendors had set up shop inside the Court of the Gentiles instead of outside the temple (a more detailed description of these two worship practices and their impact on the Gentiles can be found in these previous blogs HERE).
Yet there are more than just people from other nations who were effortlessly excluded from worship. As Jesus clears out the Court of the Gentiles, we discover that he created room for people who needed healing and people who were quite young. As we read the story of Palm Sunday again, please notice how Jesus isn’t just clearing out the temple, he’s acting out one of the major themes of Advent: Let every heart prepare him room. Since the religious leaders hadn’t prepared room for Jesus, he creates the room himself. So please notice who Jesus creates room for, and please notice who does the preaching once that room is created.
The Story of Palm Sunday in Matthew 21:6-17
So the disciples went and did exactly what Jesus told them to do. So they brought out the donkey and the colt, and they laid their cloaks upon them, and Jesus hopped on. Nearly everyone who was there spread their cloaks on the road, while others cut branches from the trees and threw them along his path. Crowds went ahead and crowds followed, chanting:
“Save us now, Son of David!
It’s our hero, the One who comes in God’s Name!
Save us now, bring us heaven!”
And he entered into Jerusalem, and all the whole city was stirred up, asking, “Who is this?” And the crowd was saying, “This is the prophet Jesus, the one from Nazareth of Galilee.”
And Jesus came into the temple and cast out all the vendors and the customers in the temple. And he kicked over the tables of the money changers and the stalls of the dove merchants. And he quoted, “It is written, ‘My house will be called a house of prayer, but you have made it a hangout for insurrectionists.’”
Now there was room for the blind and the crippled in the temple, and they came to him and he healed them. When the Chief Priests and the Religious Leaders saw what wonders he did, and saw the children chanting in the temple “Save us now, Son of David,” they were furious, and took him to task, “Don’t you hear what these children are saying?!?!” “Of course. Haven’t you read that ‘From the mouths children and even babies I have prepared a place of praise.’”
So Jesus turned on his heel and left for Bethany, where he spent the night.
Jesus creates room for people who need healing, and he heals them. Jesus creates room for children to preach, and he encourages them. This story still takes my breath away. And this story still haunts me.
As an Ordained Minister, I am officially a Religious Leader of Spring Church, whose mission is Uncommon Friendship and Common Discipleship. This story invites me to ask, “How are we worshipping in ways that effortlessly excludes our Uncommon Friends?” This story compels me to an answer so sad, it’s a cause for lament.
You see, even if I’m not wearing pajamas to church, I’m still really comfortable at church. There are a lot of ways where the church worship service just works for me. My eyes work great, and I’m literate, so I like the way the song lyrics are displayed for all of us to sing along. It’s uncomfortable for me to think about how my blind friends might feel about this. I am fit and strong, so I don’t even notice the stairs or the uneven sidewalks. It’s uncomfortable for me to think about how my friends with physical challenges might feel about this. I am an educated adult with a long attention span, so I like services lead by educated adults with long attention spans. It’s VERY uncomfortable for me to think about how the youth might feel about this.
Americans love comfort, and I love comfort. And excluding uncommon friends often helps me feel more comfortable, which does not give them the seriousness, care, and respect they deserve, either.
Theologically speaking, I think I’m still in my pajamas. I love comfort, and once I get comfortable with how something is going at church, I can quit looking around to see who might be left out. And, in the modern church culture, I get compliments all the time for how creative, inclusive, and hospitable Spring Church can be to uncommon friends. And some of that might be true. But while I love Denise more than I love pajamas, I don't think I love my uncommon friends more than I love my own comfort.
In this story, Jesus created “room for the blind and the crippled.” How are we doing with that?
All of our worship gatherings assume:
everyone attending can see the zoom screen, and we haven't given much thought to how we would prepare room for someone with blindness.
everyone attending can hear, and we haven’t given much thought to how we would prepare for someone who cannot hear.
everyone can type in a google doc, everyone can operate the chat function, everyone can navigate zoom. Many people simple cannot do that.
everyone has fairly high functioning mental capabilities. We’ve had people attend our services experiencing every well known mental health challenge under the sun, including schizophrenia, PTSD, depression, bi-polar, and many more. Spring Church can still be an inhospitable space for people with these experiences.
everyone can afford reliable internet, and we have not been able to cultivate a hospitable space for people who aren’t technologically self-sufficient. Our friends experiencing homelessness have been effortlessly excluded. Even when we’ve put a ton of effort into how to include them technologically, we haven’t been successful.
In this story, Jesus creates room for “the children chanting in the temple.” How are we doing with that?
Are we hearing the voices of our youth preaching to us? Are we gathering together, looking forward to how the Spirit is going to use our youth to speak to us?
How is Spring Church worshipping in ways that effortlessly exclude our uncommon friends?
And so, this coming Palm Sunday, we’ll gather together to lament everyone who’s been left out.
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