Preaching text: Jeremiah 31:31-34, John 12:20-33
Last Sunday, once I was done with worship at both congregations, with the time change and all, the last thing I wanted to do when I got home was...well...pretty much anything. So I plopped down in front of the TV and let my brain rot. I flipped through Netflix and settled on the comic book movie 300. 300’s an interesting film. Based on a Frank Miller comic, it’s a stylized retelling of a real event in history: the battle of Thermopylae, where 300 Greek Spartan soldiers stood their ground against a Persian invasion force that probably numbered over 100,000 men.
That story has been told and retold many many times and the Spartans themselves are held up as paragons of bravery and valor. In many ways, it’s a story that’s come to mean whatever you want it to mean. The gun rights people often emblazon their vehicles with a bumper sticker containing a curious phrase: μολὼν λαβέ (Molon Labe). That’s from Thermopylae; it’s the answer the Spartans gave to the Persians when they demanded they lay down their weapons and surrender. Molon Labe, “Come and take them.” (That scene is in the film, by the way.)
Likewise, there’s a moment in the movie that’s stuck with me this week. Leonidas, the Spartan king, gives a speech about how they’re all there to fight and die for peace, freedom, and a new world. It’s a good speech, but utterly inaccurate. Historians will tell you that yes, courage was certainly a virtue among the Spartans, but freedom? Peace? Reason? Hardly. They were just as tyrannical and brutal, if not more so, as the Persians they opposed. They were a savage people, arguably the least civilized of the Greek city-states. But again, the battle, that moment in history, all that has come to mean whatever we want it to mean.
But I find that speech curious, because it’s a speech that could be given in any number of historical contexts. George Washington could have given it. Robespierre. Lenin. Ho Chi Minh. Pretty much any revolutionary or pseudo-revolutionary could inspire us with such words. You could argue Obama swept into office 9 years ago on similar sentiments. Or Trump just 1 year ago coming after him. All lauding their vision of a new world, one where our people will no longer be on the bottom, but we will have our fair share at last.
It’s one of the deepest desires of our heart: a new world, a better world. One where we are free. One where there is justice. One where there is peace. All too often though, for all the lofty rhetoric, that ideal runs headlong into the reality of the human condition. All too often it gets caught up in the inertia of bureaucracy and institutional systems. All too often it leads to an object lesson in the old truism about how power corrupts. All too often it becomes a world where freedom, justice, and peace are only available to one group in society, leaving all the others to dream of their own new world where they’ll gain such things and the cycle begins anew. A popular anime that I like once called this the “endless waltz,” the three beats of war, peace and revolution that continue on forever.
We are our own worst enemies and here again is a rather potent way it manifests. If you take an honest look at America today, you’ll find all those things. Bureaucratic inertia has strangled the American dream. Corruption is at all levels of our government and leadership. And it is very true that “All for me and none for thee” operates on numerous levels of our society. Why is that? Because it’s a human experiment. We cannot escape what we are.
If this is starting to sound familiar, it should. I’ve lead right back to where we were last Sunday when I spoke of inescapability of human sin, of our own sin, and of God’s solution thereof. At this point, I should probably point out that that speech about our coming new world that has inspired generation after generation of revolutionaries and visionaries, that speech can be found in the Bible. In fact, we two such examples this Sunday.
“I will make a new covenant with my people,” says the Lord in Jeremiah. “Now is the judgment of this world; now the ruler of this world will be driven out. And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.” Jesus echoes in our Gospel. These are revolutionary words. As is the Magnificat. As is the whole book of Revelation. As is the teaching Jesus gave Nicodemus in John 3 that we had last Sunday. But there is one key difference between these examples and the fictitious speech of Leonidas that has echoed pointlessly and futilely throughout history. This will be a revolution that God leads, not us. He will change the world, not us.
And that, of course, is precisely why Jesus comes. That’s why he was born. It’s why he lived. It’s why he died and why he rose again. It’s all about the new world; it’s all about the kingdom of God. It’s all about the victory Christ wins over sin and death. Oh, yeah, and in case it’s escaped you, that victory occurred in history around 2000 years ago and it echoes through all of eternity. It’s done. We’ve won.
The world may not look like it, but it’s true. And there’s the rub for us. People aren’t going to believe in the Kingdom unless we give them some glimpse of it. Many in the church, recognizing the failure of human revolution, have given up entirely on doing anything that makes the world better. We’ll always fail, and, yes, we will. But with God having won the war, there is still a benefit to winning a battle or two along the way. People need hope. People need to see what God has done. People need to have the kingdom made real for them.
And that’s our job, our calling. Can we change the big picture? No, only God can do that. But we can change a portion of it for the people we encounter every day. We can show them God’s new world by giving food to one who is hungry, shelter to one without a home, comfort to one whose heart is breaking, a voice for those without one, and justice for those oppressed. We can’t make a new world, but we can show this old one what God’s new world will look like, at least in part. We can make it real for people who are starving for something to hope for, something to believe in.
Hope and faith; is that not why we are here? To receive these things ourselves. And having received them through Scripture and song, preaching and sacrament, in fellowship and friendship, we are called to go forth and give them in turn to those we encounter. So go forth from this place and show the world what’s coming. Show them what God done and share what you have been given. Let them see the new world. Let them see the kingdom of God in what you do. Amen.
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