A sermon for the 23rd Sunday after Pentecost: Proper 25
October 27, 2024, at St. Luke’s Episcopal Church, Hot Springs, AR
Readings: Hebrews 7:23-28; Mark 10:46-52
In a few days, my street, Prospect Avenue, will be flooded with trick-or-treaters dressed in costume hoping for a sugar high. The neighbors have already put up their decor. Some have terrifying displays with motion-activated screams. There are spiders and ghosts and goblins. Others have tamer displays. One of my neighbors sets up a projector screen to play “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown.” The costumes that visit the neighborhood will have the same divide. Some will be horrifying, blood-covered, windows into darkness. Others will be whimsical, straight out of the latest Disney movie, full of light. I think all of this has something to tell us. I think that it might just be that the gospel will be there, parading up and down my street, hidden in costume.
Halloween costumes and decorations generally fall into the two categories we have named above: the macabre and the fantastical, the zombie and the princess. Why? I am sure there are many reasons, but at least one is theological. At its core, I think Halloween invites us to see the brokenness in the world. Sometimes we do that with the macabre, with zombies and ghosts and vampires. Death and horror and terror are real. All of us, to some degree or another, have lived it. We have been acquainted with death–the death of loved ones, of expectations, of hopes, of how the world ought to be; the death that comes with sickness and sorrow and grief and pain. There is brokenness within us and around us. Sometimes our Halloween costumes lean into that, exaggerating the despair, displaying the hopelessness, acknowledging the pain we have lived.
At other times, though, our Halloween costumes are whimsical, fantastical, princes and princesses, frogs hoping to be kissed, superheroes ready to save the day. My go-to costume is a Mr. Rogers outfit. While tamer, these costumes also point to brokenness in the world. We live in a world where where superheroes are needed because there is hurt, where Mr. Rogers’s message is relevant now more than ever. But unlike those macabre costumes which highlight the brokenness, these costumes invite us into a different world where that brokenness is not present, where divisions are healed and pain has ceased, where the superhero has come and there is hope for tomorrow.
Whether we lean into the macabre or fantasy, however, there is an acknowledgement of brokenness. And there is a desire, deep within the human condition, for that not to be the case; a desire for healing and wholeness; a desire for a Messiah who can save us and usher in a new world.
The central message of the gospel is that something is broken and needs to be repaired. As we discussed in Confirmation class today, the universe itself, hurdling toward death, is in need of healing and repair. The systems of the world, entrenched in sin, are in need of repair. And we, as individuals ourselves captive to sin and death, are in need of healing and wholeness–we call it salvation. The promise of the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ is nothing less than that: salvation, healing, wholeness, and repair for our souls, for our world, for the entire cosmos.
The book of Hebrews, from which our second reading is taken, centers on how this is accomplished through the death and resurrection of Christ. It boils down to this: Christ, perfect God and perfect human, does something that no priest or religious system is able to accomplish. Christ, who is both the sacrifice without blemish and the great high priest without sin, enters into the holy of holies on our behalf through his death. His perfect life, poured out in blood, covers that which is broken and in need of healing, even us, our sin and death. In that act of sacrifice, Christ, the great high priest, becomes the means of salvation for us and the entire cosmos. And because he was raised by the Father from the dead, he continues even now as our mediator and advocate before the Father, interceding on our behalf forever, claiming us through his own perfection. Through his life, death, and resurrection, Christ reconciles us to the God from whom we had turned, offering healing in our brokenness, hope in our despair, repair in the midst of our self-destruction, forgiveness of our sin, redemption of our death. This is what we mean by grace.
I said a moment ago that within the human condition there is a desire–a desire on display in a rather odd way during Halloween–for healing and wholeness, for new life, for a fresh start, for a world without tears and grief and pain, for justice without delay, for truth without betrayal, for a new heaven and a new earth. There is, within us, the desire for a Messiah. And we look for that Messiah everywhere. We look within us, to our own abilities and wealth and resources. We look around us, to politics, to economic forecasts, and even to our priest. We look and look and look. And we dress ourselves in those costumes. Sometimes we give in to cynicism, refusing to believe that anything can change, giving into despair and hopelessness. Sometimes we try to escape the world, living in fantasy, covering up reality and refusing to come to terms with the truth around us. The macabre and the fantastical, just like those costumes this weekend.
But the message of Hebrews, the message of the Bible, is that a Messiah has indeed come. The perfect sacrifice and great high priest, he has done for us what we cannot do for ourselves. And on offer, even now, is a fresh start and eternal life. On offer, even now, is grace and mercy, forgiveness and hope, goodness and love. On offer, even now, is the promise of a new heaven and new earth–one whose builder and maker is God.
I hope we have fun this Halloween. I hope we don’t make it too complicated (as I’ve done today). I hope we laugh and say boo and get sugar highs and enjoy our costumes. But I also hope that we will remember that the brokenness we see, the brokenness we feel, the brokenness we know too well, the brokenness of living in sin and death and hoping for a different world–that brokenness will not always be so. For Christ, our Great High Priest, has entered into the holy of holies on our behalf, to heal us and the whole universe. And he is making all things new.
Storied Grace 