Proper 29 B + Trans Jesus + 11.25.18
M. Campbell-Langdell
All Santos, Oxnard
Pilate asked
him, “So you are a king?” Jesus answered, “You say that I am a king. For this I
was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone
who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.” (John 18:37)
And later, “What is truth?”
In this, one of the most dramatic moments of scripture, we
see two people facing each other. In a sense, what they are each sharing is so
iconic, it almost doesn’t matter the kind of men – indeed people- they are.
They represent two different paradigms. Pilate, of the Roman hierarchy, a
wielder of power and a confident decision maker, for whom authority looks like
might, and sometimes like violence. Jesus, a seemingly humble Jew, a rabbi or
teacher, a vagabond, who represents none of the ideas Pilate has around
power.
What is truth? What is power?
But Pilate sees power in Jesus. He smells it on him and catches it in the glints of other’s eyes, in the snatches of others’ dreams. Clearly this man wields power.
But Pilate sees power in Jesus. He smells it on him and catches it in the glints of other’s eyes, in the snatches of others’ dreams. Clearly this man wields power.
So he asks Jesus what, to him, is the logical question. Are
you a king? This would simplify things. Let the Jewish kings duke it out. And
Jesus kind of says yes and kind of says no. Because he is like a king in
authority, and yet nothing about his kingdom is of this world. Nothing of his
leadership is about domination or violence. But it is about love, overpowering
love overpowering any urge to hate, to disconnect.
I saw Jesus in a trannie the other night. What I mean to say
is I saw his example in a young trans man who spoke at the local Trans Day of
Remembrance Event.
He mentioned how, born female into a family of traditional
Iranian Jews in Westwood, he would return home each year from college and after
just a bit changed. First, slacks instead of a dress. Then shorter hair. Then
what his grandfather called “heavier boots.” He never officially “came out” as
trans to his family, except perhaps to one or two. Instead he presented himself
with his family again and again saying “Hello, I am here. I love you.” And they
asked “Do you respect your family? Are you working hard?” And because the word
for grandchild is gender-neutral in Farsi, his grandfather just continued to
say “This is my grandchild” when presenting him to others. And perhaps because
it is such a reserved culture, he didn’t break it down for them. He just
expected them to accept him. And they did! He shared a Farsi saying that goes
“I live for you and you live for me.” And that to him was showing up, loving
his family and just expecting them to love him back, no matter what gender he
presented.
In a way, this is Jesus. Jesus transgressed or interrupted
all of the expectations of leadership, messiah-ship and power in our human
context. And then he just presented himself, just as he presents himself here,
before Pilate, saying, this is me. Yes I am a king, but not in the way you
expect. I am more about loving you than frightening you into submission. Yes
that may seem a bit authority non-conforming, but guess what? This is me? And I
love you. And I come in respect and deep tenderness. I present myself. How will
you accept me? Will you live for me as I live and die for you?
Sadly, we know that we didn’t handle that all too well. Jesus’ story had to be told for even some of us to begin to grasp even a smidge of what that love looks like. Dying and rising happened and showed us about real love and salvation.
Sadly, we know that we didn’t handle that all too well. Jesus’ story had to be told for even some of us to begin to grasp even a smidge of what that love looks like. Dying and rising happened and showed us about real love and salvation.
But the way Jesus presents himself to Pilate reminds me of a
song several of us heard last year in the movie “The Greatest Showman.” It is
called “This is Me” and some of the verses go thus:
“and I know
that I deserve your love
(Oh-oh-oh-oh) 'cause there's nothing I'm not worthy of
(Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, oh, oh)
When the sharpest words wanna cut me down
I'm gonna send a flood, gonna drown them out
This is brave, this is proof
This is who I'm meant to be, this is me
(Oh-oh-oh-oh) 'cause there's nothing I'm not worthy of
(Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, oh, oh)
When the sharpest words wanna cut me down
I'm gonna send a flood, gonna drown them out
This is brave, this is proof
This is who I'm meant to be, this is me
Look out
'cause here I come (look out 'cause here I come)
And I'm marching on to the beat I drum (marching on, marching, marching on)
I'm not scared to be seen
I make no apologies, this is me”[1]
And I'm marching on to the beat I drum (marching on, marching, marching on)
I'm not scared to be seen
I make no apologies, this is me”[1]
And earlier
“But I won't
let them break me down to dust
I know that there's a place for us
For we are glorious.”
I know that there's a place for us
For we are glorious.”
In fact, Jesus was more glorious than this because he went to
the dust for us so than none of us might ever need to fear death again. But just
as Jesus was glorious not in the way of traditional might but because of his
loving strength, we too are glorious not because of the way the world would
have us act but because God made us uniquely.
Perhaps a gift of Jesus’ transgressive kingship is that he
did it differently, and we can, too. We can live into our leadership, our gifts
for ministry in just the loving way he did. When we see spaces in the world
that invite us to dominate, we can reject those and move towards love.
One of the scariest places that takes me is how to respond to
the fear of potential violence in the church. It has been harrowing to hear the
stories of church, synagogue and mosque shootings, just as it has been terrible
to hear of the same in other public places. But as Christians and indeed as
people of faith (because I think many other faith leaders are showing us this
also) we know that the answer is not a sort of hypervigilance. We cannot train
ourselves to the point of fear of whoever might enter this door. We must be
bold in love and embrace people, albeit with appropriate boundaries for the
safety of the flock. But Jesus tells us that whomever we give a cup of cold
water is a representative of him. And whomever we welcome to pray just might
really need the space we provide. Even more so in a world that is increasingly
scary and where safe places seem fewer and farther between.
We can show another way.
And we can feel Jesus today presenting himself again to us,
not as a fearsome king, but as our brother and friend, loving us into being
even better in the unique us-ness that only we have. Being the bold and
different lovers of the world that the world doesn’t know how much it needs.
Amen.
[1]
Benj Pasek and Justin Paul, “This is Me,” from The Greatest Showman, 2017. Lyrics at: https://www.google.com/search?q=greatest+showman+this+is+me+song&oq=greatest+showman+thi&aqs=chrome.3.0j69i57j0l4.7933j0j7&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8.
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