Monday, April 28, 2025

An Earth Sunday Message: Our Planet, God's Power

Author's Note: I gave the sermon on April 27 (Earth Sunday) at Good Shepherd UMC.  The following is the manuscript of my remarks.  I enjoyed doing it, and figured I would share the manuscript on the blog in case others would like to see it  You view the service at the link provided; my message starts at ~47:30.

 

Earthrise: December 24, 1968
We’ve heard it said that an image is worth 1000 words.  This was certainly true for Earth Day.  The image shown is the now-iconic Earthrise image captured on Christmas Eve 1968 by Astronaut Bill Anders as the Apollo 8 mission orbited the Moon.  This was the first color photograph of Earth taken from space.  To this day, the image remains one of the most iconic environmental images ever taken.  Earthrise is credited with inspiring the modern environmental movement – and the first Earth Day in 1970.  While there were several other events that transpired around the same time that provided impetus for action, there was something about seeing an image our home planet from space, a fragile blue marble floating in the vast darkness of space, that captured the public’s imagination and got them thinking about we might need to take better care of our world. 

 

Images have power to change things.

 


H
ere’s another image of Earth; this time looking down at the “bottom” of our world.  It shows the Antarctic Ozone Hole in 2024.  This hole forms every fall.  There’s a story behind this image too.  It’s a success story for the environment – although it didn’t start out that way.  

 

2024 Ozone Hole 

Back in the early 1970s, some scientists started to realize that chlorofluorocarbons (CFCs) were having a harmful impact on the layer of ozone that exists about 6 miles (~10 km) above us in the stratosphere.  The ozone layer protects Earth from much of the harmful impacts of ultraviolet radiation.  Developed in the 1930s, CFCs are stable long-lasting compounds – which made them useful for all kinds of practical industrial applications.  We used them as refrigerants and in aerosol cans.  They provided the puff in StyrofoamTMcontainers and insulation.  They were also used in fire suppression systems.


How CFCs destroy ozone.
But while the stability of CFCs was good for our economy it wasn’t good for our environment.  They linger a long time in the atmosphere before dissipating –  long enough to get lofted into the stratosphere, where they come into the presence of ultraviolet radiation, which initiates a series of reactions that breaks down the stable CFC into component chemicals, which includes chlorine ions.  Chlorine then reacts with ozone, breaking the stable ozone molecule into an oxygen molecule and free oxygen.  The free oxygen reacts with chlorine to form chlorine monoxide, which in turn frees another chlorine ion, starting the process again, and continuing the destruction of ozone.   It turns out that the presence of clouds high in the stratosphere make the ozone destruction process even more efficient.   So, once chlorine (or bromine) is introduced, the stable, extremely cold conditions in the Antarctic spring are the perfect setup to promote the continued destruction of ozone. 

 

Well, if a picture is worth 1000 words, how much more powerful is a series of images  to motivate action?  

 

While scientists were alarmed by the prospect that CFCs could eat away at atmospheric ozone as early as the 1970s, the public didn’t pay too much attention at first. The words and chemical formulas were all there from the beginning – but most people don’t understand a bunch of chemical formulas strung together  – much less respond to them.


  

 

However, much like the Earthrise image motivated Earth consciousness, what really catalyzed the world to take action on reducing CFCs was seeing satellite images that showed just how dramatic the reduction in ozone over the Antarctic was.  The first of these images came out in 1979 – and NASA and its international partners have been tracking them ever since.  

 

By the mid-1980s, the destruction was becoming hard to ignore.  CFCs had depleted ozone levels  so much that a broad swath of the Antarctic stratosphere was essentially devoid of ozone by early September.  The public response led to government action.   The result was the Montreal Protocol, an international agreement signed in 1987 to phase out CFC-based products and processes. Countries worldwide agreed to replace the chemicals with more environmentally friendly alternatives by 2010. While the release of CFC compounds has dramatically decreased following the Montreal Protocol, CFCs already present will take many decades to break down. As existing CFC levels reduce, ozone in the upper atmosphere has begun to rebound globally, and although ozone hole size varies from one year to the next due to specific meteorological conditions, the overall trend is toward getting smaller.  The 2024 hole ranked the seventh smallest since the expected recovery began in 1992.  Current estimates are that the ozone hole will be fully healed by 2066. 

 

These two examples show that images are an impetus for action.   It’s one thing to read words, but when we see an image, it tells a story that transcend words – and invites us to participate in the story.

 

Let’ stay with that thought as we switch now from scenes of Earth to scenes of Resurrection.  

 

It is Eastertide and on this Earth Sunday Christ is still risen. 

 

Scripture gives us basis for many images from the life of Jesus.  We recognize them quickly when we see them.  The birth… the transfiguration… the arrest and trial… the crucifixion… and the ascension.  But there’s one noteworthy exception.  What did the resurrection look like?  


Now, I’m not talking about events that happened immediately after the resurrection.  On that, all four Gospel writers bear witness – and we have plenty of images based on those stories.  

The Empty Tomb
 

What images do we associate with the Risen Lord?


In a sense, our whole faith rests on the fact that there wasn’t much to photograph that first Easter morning. Christ was risen – but no one really knows exactly how it was accomplished.  Maybe how doesn’t even matter? The testimony of Mary Magdalene (and other women who may have accompanied her) that when she (they) went to the tomb that Sunday morning after the Crucifixion, expecting to find a body, it wasn’t there.  The tomb was empty – and on that basis everything would soon change.

 

 Of course, we do have artwork of the resurrection  Where words were silent, clearly Christian imagination took over to produce countless graphical representations of the moment of Christ’s resurrection.  Take for example the image shown here of the dome of the Chapel of the Spaniards in Florence, Italy.  I chose it because it includes a nice summary of the indirect witness of Christ’s resurrection.  From the left three women approach the tomb (Mark 16:1 and in the other Synoptics) where they meet the angels (bottom center) who tell them Christ is risen, and then on the right, we see Jesus appearing to Mary Magdalene in the garden (John 20:17), which comes from our Gospel reading last week on Easter. 


Composite of Resurrection imagery that is part of a larger series of frescoes  crafted by Andrea di Bonnaiuto da Firenze.  The artwork is located in the Chapel of the Spaniards at the 
Basilica of Santa Maria Novella, Florence, Italy.

 

In the center of the image, we have the guarded tomb tradition that we get only from Matthew’s account of the resurrection (weaved throughout Matthew 27–28).  Look closely and you’ll see five of the six guards shown in the image have their eyes closed, oblivious to what is happening above them, but one has eyes wide open and is thus an eyewitness to the moment of resurrection.  Most every western depiction of Christ’s resurrection includes the tomb guards – sleeping and/or awake. 

 

But this image includes something else.  Looking up from the guards and angels, we see something Scripture never describes – a direct representation of the risen Lord hovering above his tomb.  (In fact, this image of Christ “rising up” may remind you more of the Ascension, when Jesus is taken back into Heaven than the Resurrection.)  This example is just one of many images found in various Christian churches across Europe – and even here in America.

 

Even in the absence of words that describe it, images of Christ’s resurrection proliferated and have power to inspire us still today.  If the grave cannot hold Jesus, and if, as Paul says, Christ lives in each of us, then there is nothing in this life we cannot overcome. Even death, we believe, will not have the final say.

 

As we bring this conversation back down to Earth, I’d like us to consider one more Resurrection image.  This one is from the Chora Church in Istanbul, Turkey.  In the center stands Jesus, with a mandorla (the almond-shaped halo) around him signifying his Divine power.  If you look closely, you’ll notice he stands atop the broken gates of Hades trampling down the door.  On the left side of the image, Adam reaches out from his tomb to grab Jesus’ hand, on the right Eve does the same. A cast of others follows behind both Adam and Eve.  Jesus faces the viewer and seems to be leading the whole host out of their tombs.

 

I’ll wager that this is a less familiar image to most of us; it certainly was to me.  In western iconography, if we know it all, we call it “The Descent into Hell” and it is often envisioned as happening on Holy Saturday– i.e., while Jesus’s physical body is lies still in his earthly tomb.  In fact, it can be called whatever we wish, so long as we don’t call it resurrection – that’s a different image for us.


Image of the Anastasis located in an apse of a funerary chapel in Chora Church in Istanbul, Turkey.

 

However,  if you worshipped in an Orthodox church, you’d likely recognize this image readily.  An icon similar to it would probably be located somewhere around you wherever you worshipped.   This is an image of the Anastasis—which is the Greek word for resurrection, which literally means “raising up” or “sitting up.”  In this view of the resurrection, 

 

According to the Anastasis, Jesus doesn’t rise alone.  No, he brings all humanity – and all Creation – along.  

 

Whereas the last image was a powerful rendering of the individual resurrection of Jesus and all its related stories, I would argue this of rendering universal resurrection, where all are called to rise with Jesus, offers Christ followers even more power and ultimately offers more hope for our planet.  

 

I believe this is the image of resurrection “Paul” had in mind when he composed his letter to the Colossians.  In today’s Scripture, he speaks of Jesus as the “image of the invisible God.” He tells his readers, in essence, if you want to know what God looks like, you should look to the example and teachings of Jesus.  

 

Paul refers to Jesus as both the “the firstborn of all creation” and “the firstborn from the dead.”  He argues that this gives Jesus authority over all things, whether in heaven or on Earth, and that through the blood Jesus shed on the cross, all creation can now be reconciled to its Creator.  He later goes on to say that in some mysterious way, the same Gospel that we believe as followers of Jesus “has been proclaimed to every creature under heaven,” and that this is the same Gospel to which he has become a servant. 

 

Having the individual image and especially the universal image of resurrection adds power to these words that Paul speaks.  We understand why Paul emphasizes Jesus as Lord over all things and why he is intentional to say that all Creation has heard the gospel – because when he spoke of resurrection, he had all this in mind.  

 

Jesus doesn’t rise up by himself just so we can escape to be with him in Heaven when we die.  No, he raises us up with him now so we can be part of restoring the world to that which God envisioned it could be when God created it.   

 

This is what motivates Paul to, as it says in another letter likely written by a follower of Paul, pour himself out like a drink offering, for the people God has called him to serve.  I suspect those who pastor churches can relate to his strong feelings here.  He strives not only on behalf of the people under his care, but on behalf of all Creation – which pins its hopes for renewal on the actions of human, created in the image the Creator.

 

It is hard work, but Paul says he is sustained by “all the energy that Christ powerfully inspires within me.” He wants the Colossian (and later readers like you and me) to know that the same “renewable energy source” is available to them (to us)… … …

 

The theme for Earth Day 2025 was “Our Power, Our Planet.” The focus was on the pursuit of renewable energy sources that can reduce our society’s addiction to using fossil fuels to fuel its progress.  They have a goal of seeing renewable energy sources tripled by 2030.  As the Earth Day website says, “Grassroots peoplepower has always been at the heart of Earth Day. It is the catalyst for paradigm-shifting change because when individuals unite with a common purpose, they can overcome even the most entrenched systems and industries.”

 

I have a feeling what’s true for the Earth Day move might be true for Christ followers too.  In fact, when it comes to a complex problem like the renewal of our Earth, I think the secular and sacred might need to realize they are two sides of the same coin.  We need to learn that the best way to “resist evil, oppression, and injustice in whatever forms they present themselves,” is to do it together.  There’s power released when we come together to face challenges.  There is synergy; we are greater than the sum of our individual parts. I think that’s the essence of the message conveyed by the universal resurrection images we looked at.

 

Empowered by Christ, we toocan participate in resurrection and renewal in our world.  We can each find our place to fulfill our Genesis 2 calling to “till and keep” God’s good Earth.  

 

Our theme today was “Our Planet, God’s Power.”  Paul was convinced there was a power sustaining him – and providing him a limitless “renewable energy source” to allow him to do his ministry.  

 

But what is that power source?

 

May Day parade in Red Square in Moscow, Russia.
Green circle on the far right wall shows the location
of the Resurrection Gate.
Our world presents two options for power sources.  You can see both options in this Reuters image of a May Day parade taking place in Red Square in Moscow, Russia.  Option 1 is clearly visible on the day captured – it is the World’s Way of violent domination.  The May Day parade held each year is a chance to showcase the perfect precision – and dominance – of Mother Russia’s military.  The tanks moving in formation are the perfect image for Option 1.  This tends to be the standard way in our world and even sometimes in our churches.  We assume that the one in power is the one who has vanquished and subjugated all competitors. 

 

I said this image shows two options for power sources – but you probably wouldn’t notice Option 2 unless you’re really searching for it.  Do you see the green circle in the right corner?  Of all things that area is called the Resurrection Gate?  Why would anything in Red Square be associated with religion – much less with the resurrection?


Image found on the Resurrection Gate
in Red Square – in the green circled
area on previous image.
Remember that this area wasn’t always just for military staging.  There was a time when it was a town square.  And in that town, there were Orthodox churches.  And where there is an Orthodox church, there’s bound to be an Anastasis.  This close-up image of that area circled in green on the previous picture shows Option 2  on covert display in Red Square.  It shows the Jesus Way of self-emptying love.  

 As theologian N.T. Wright states it: The whole point of the kingdom of God is Jesus has come to bear witness to the true truth – which is nonviolent. When God wants to take charge of the world, he doesn't send in the tanks. He sends in the poor and the meek. —N.T. Wright

 

In the concluding verse his famous Ode to Love (1 Corinthians 13:13), Paul reminds his readers (and us) that at the end of all thing, three things will endure: faith, hope, and love—and the greatest of these is love


As we’ve seen illustrated in the Anastasis images, it is God’s Love that has the power to “trample down” all barriers that keep us in our tombs and to “raise up” all creation to the fullness of what God intended it to be.  We are raised up to take part in the renewal of this world.  That is the universal calling of Earth Day.  This perspective makes the lyrics from the chorus of  Matt Maher’s “Christ is Risen” pulse with power:

 

Christ is risen from the dead.

Trampling over death by death.

Come awake, come awake, come and rise up from the grave!


Wednesday, April 16, 2025

Weeping for Love

 On this Wednesday of Holy Week, I took a jog in my neighborhood.   The last time I had taken a run outside was a few weeks ago, and many of the trees were blossoming.  Now, I trample over those blossoms as I run along the path. There work done for yet another season, they give way to budding leaves a d scatter almost wastefully on the ground.  Allergy sufferers loathe this time of year, but I love the palette of spring.   The colors are much more varied than the darker green that tends to dominate in late spring and summer . Spring colors cover nearly the full spectrum, ranging from white, to pink, to red, and even some purples, oranges and yellows.  As the blossoms start to wane, pale green leaves begin to emerge in their place and the landscape becomes more verdant with each passing day.

When the wind blows, the ubiquitous Bradford pear trees in our neighborhood produce a veritable blossom blizzard as they cast off their fine white blooms with delicate red and green blossoms in the middle.  The blossoms fall over my head in windswept squalls as I run.  They coat the ground and anything or anyone else who happens to pass by during the height of the tempest. 

Bradford Pear blossoms pile up like snow.

Red and white magnolia blossoms fall like tears, often gathering around the base of the tree as if they encircle the tree in a protective layer of love before they are inevitably scattered to the four winds, ending up in nearby drainage ditches, ponds, and ground into my shoes as I run along the blossom-coated path.   Dogwoods add their distinctive pink blossoms, while oaks, maples, and other trees each add their unique hues to the spring biomass bonanza.    

Dogwood

I trample over some of this discarded beauty as I run.  And as I do  I think of a song lyric about another discarded beauty….

Like a rose trampled on the ground, you took the fall and thought of me above all.

This lyric is from the chorus of the praise song “Above All,” which we often sing during Holy Week as we reflect upon Jesus’s crucifixion and burial.  Although can I be honest? While this line makes for great poetry, I don’t think it’s the best theology.  Jesus wasn’t just thinking of me or just thinking of you; he wasn’t even thinking of just human beings.  No, when Jesus “took the fall” and allowed himself to be trampled upon like tender rose petals under a Roman soldier’s boot,  I believe he had all creation in mind.   That’s why when I sing this I will often say:

Like a rose trampled on the ground, you took the fall and thought of love above all.

It’s a subtle shift, but an important one.  It takes the focus off me and puts it on all Creation—which still includes you and  me, by the way, but now God is the focus, not us.  Also, I think changing this single word acknowledges that the true source of Jesus’s power was God’s overwhelming love for that which God created.  Indeed, it is true that God so loved the world that he sent Jesus (God in human flesh) to live among us and die as one of us.  Through that one act, God saved Creation in every way it needed to be saved.  Somehow in this ultimate act of self-giving love, by emptying himself completely (which theologians call kenosis), God’s love triumphs over every other power in the universe.  Even death itself will ultimately be defeated—but that is getting ahead of ourselves.

Magnolia
For now, return with me to the magnolia, dropping her blossoms like tears.  Think of the weeping willows with their leaves emerging now in Maryland.  Think of soaking rain, like that which has replenished the water level in the ponds in my neighborhood recently after a prolonged drought. Think of how our human eyes function. Again and again, nature shows us the necessity of tears.  

The path to rejoicing in the morning must pass through the weeping in the night. 



In Gethsemane, Jesus weeps.  In his passion narrative, Luke goes so far as to imagine that so great was the stress Jesus felt in that moment, that tears of blood fell from his cheeks—Luke 22:44.  Jesus doesn’t just weep for what will happen to him, though;  I think he weeps for all Creation, and how it has fallen short of what God intended it to be: Our violence.  Our exploitation the Other, both human and nonhuman. Our struggle to follow Jesus’s example of foot-washing and self-giving love for all of humanity—John 13:1–20.  The shedding of Jesus’ tears, which will soon give way to the violent shedding of his blood, are somehow required to bring about the redemption of Creation that God desires.  

Weeping Willow

All this makes me think of another song I like called “After the Last Tear Falls.”  I like it because it’s so brutally honest about how life is here on this Third Rock from the Sun.  The verses frankly acknowledge that there are many things in this life that give us cause to lament, to cry out to God, to shed honest tears over situations we wish were different.  But at the end of each verse, the songwriter loops back an even deeper reality of life: that even after all this world does its worse and despite all that’s clearly wrong in this world, God’s love is still here—and in the end that’s what will help us prevail against all odds against “evil, injustice, and oppression in whatever forms they present themselves.”  Liten to the promise offered in the song’s bridge:



And in the end, the end is oceans and oceans of love and love again
We'll see how the tears that have fallen
Were caught in the palms of the Giver of love and the Lover of all
And we'll look back on these tears as old tales

'Cause after the last tear falls there is love

But again, that’s a privileged view from the perspective of Sunday morning.  First, we must sit with the bitter tears of Wednesday through Friday.  We must endure the betrayal by Judas, the arrest by the Romans, the mockery of a trial before the Sanhedrin, the humiliation before the local figureheads of the dominant power (Pilate and Herod), the denial and bitter weeping of Peter,  the abandonment by all the male disciples that followed him to the garden and the High Priest’s home, the crucifixion at Golgotha for treason against Rome, the grieving tears of Mary his mother and the other women disciples as they watch him die powerless to stop it and then lay him to rest in a borrowed tomb.  

Like those first followers of Jesus, we too must weep before we can rejoice.  We dare not rush to “the end” of the story lest we miss the chapters in the middle and thus lose the power of the whole tale.  That is our challenge for this Holy Week, to see the story through all its chapters to (what appears to be) the bitter end… 

An Earth Sunday Message: Our Planet, God's Power

Author's Note : I gave the sermon on April 27 (Earth Sunday) at Good Shepherd UMC.  The following is the manuscript of my remarks.  I en...