Holding Things Loosely: A Post-Election Sermon

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St. John’s Episcopal Church
Tallahassee, FL

Hebrews 9:24-28          Mark 12:38-44

Let’s go ahead and state the facts 
right up front. 

It has been quite a week, hasn’t it?

If you did not know it before, 
you certainly know it now:

that we live in a world in which 
things fluctuate and surprise us; 

we live in a world 
of constant change 
and upheaval;

we live in a world in which 
people win and people lose . . . 

and the stakes feel so high . . . 

and we don’t always know 
what to hold onto . . . 

and where so many people 
wish it could all just go back 
to the way things used to be.

I am speaking, of course . . . 
about the state of college football . . . 

particularly those teams 
that make their home 
in the great state of Florida. 

Even Miami 
has something to be sad about today.

* * *

But in all seriousness, 
I know some other things 
went on this week as well—
things of local, national, and global importance—
and many of you are still trying to process 
what it all means.

I know that it is serious. 

I know that some of you may feel a sense of relief, 
and some of you may feel a sense of despair, 
and some of you are just somewhere in the middle 
because God knows you have enough challenges of your own to handle 
without all of this other intrigue. 

So I’m going to do 
the only thing I ever know to do. 

When people come to my office 
to talk about things like this 
(or, really, any kind of hardships) 
I usually say, 
“Well, just so you know, 
you came to a priest
not a politician 
or a professor 
or a therapist—
so just know that I’m going to give you 
a priest’s answer.” 

So, I’m going to have us 
read our scriptures 
and take our Communion 
and spend some much needed time in prayer
with God and with one another. 

And I’m going to tell you three things.

  1. As Christians, we have a Great High Priest, and that matters. 
  2. As Christians, we have a different worldview, and that matters.
  3. As Christians, we hold things loosely, and that matters. 

* * *

As Christians, we have a Great High Priest. 

Over the last many weeks, 
our New Testament readings 
have been tracking along 
from the letter to the Hebrews. 

We’ve not really preached on those readings, 
but if you’ve paid any attention, 
you may have picked up 
on some key words and phrases. 

Throughout all of Hebrews, 
there is this idea 
that Jesus is the Great High Priest. 

Several weeks ago, 
we heard one of the most famous passages about that: 
“Therefore, since we have 
a great high priest 
who has ascended into heaven, 
Jesus the Son of God, 
let us hold firmly 
to the faith we profess.” 

And today we hear, 
“Christ did not enter a sanctuary 
made by human hands, 
a mere copy of the true one, 
but he entered into heaven itself, 
now to appear in the presence of God 
on our behalf.”

You see, in ancient Judaism, 
the idea was that 
we needed an intermediary.

We needed someone 
to be a “go-between” for us, 
to stand up for us 
and to take on 
all our troubles, 
all our problems, 
and all our sins, 
and to go be the one 
to make things right. 

This was accomplished 
by the high priest every year, 
who would go into the Holy of Holies—
the innermost part 
of the innermost Temple 
where only he was allowed to go—
and he would make sacrifices 
on our behalf 
before God. 

But, you see, with Jesus, 
all of that went away. 

Because Jesus, it turns out, 
is our Great High Priest. 

Jesus came 
not just to make an annual sacrifice 
in the earthly temple 
over and over and over. 

Instead, 
Jesus became the sacrifice—
sacrificed himself for the sake of love 
on the hard wood of the cross—
and then entered not into 
the earthly Holy of Holies 
made by human hands, 
but into the true Holy of Holies—
the heavenly realm of God—
and put all our sin to rest 
once and for all. 

See, we humans are always looking 
for the right person 
to be a “go-between” for us, 
to stand up for us 
and to take on 
all our troubles, 
all our problems, 
and all our sins, 
and to go be the one 
to make things right. 

And I’m not saying 
that earthly leaders don’t matter. 
They do.  

But if all our hope 
and all our fear 
and all our faith 
is bound up 
in the power and promise 
of one finite individual 
and what they can do 
with us, 
for us, 
and to us, 
then we Christians 
are doing it wrong. 

Earthly leaders come and go. 
Some of them do some good along the way, 
and some of them do plenty of damage.

But listen to me, Christians. 
Your perspective is a larger one, 
and no mansion on earth 
is the Holy of Holies.
Be careful who you put all your hope in. 
We already have a Great High Priest, 
and that matters more than you know.

* * *

So if Jesus is our Great High Priest, 
then what does that mean for how we should believe

Well, as Christians, 
we have a different worldview, 
and that matters.

It is easy to doom scroll 
through social media 
and online news. 

It is easy to take on 
all the anxiety 
and all the anger 
and all the fear 
of the entire state, 
the nation, 
and the world. 

But I read recently 
where someone said, 
“You know, I don’t think 
we were truly meant
to be able to know all things. 
God is the only one 
who can handle 
all that knowledge.”

We have a Great High Priest 
who has already taken on 
all the burdens 
of all the world, 
and we aren’t him.

So be careful what you saturate your heart and mind with. 

It can be so tempting 
to continue to go to those online places 
where you know people have 
the same thoughts as you 
and consume all you can.

There’s an odd comfort in consuming podcasts 
made by people on your side. 
Who confirm what you already think. 

Or scrolling through Facebook and Instagram, 
where you have muted everybody 
who thinks otherwise 
and who you cannot believe 
would think that way at all. 

Shoot, it’s also deliciously satisfying 
to tune into those places 
where you know people think differently 
and you can have the angry satisfaction 
of raging quietly against then.

But as Palmer Proctor used to say 
of holding grudges and seeking revenge, 
“Be careful. It’ll eat you alive.” 

In other words, it’ll consume you.

I’m telling you, 
there is a better option. 

There is a place where you can go 
where not everyone believes 
exactly the same thing, 
but they are bound together 
by something higher. 

A place where people come together 
to confirm for, with, and to one another 
over and over 
the things they believe the most . . . 
the things that they hold most dear . . . 
the things that give actual life. 

A place where you can consume
something different  . . . 
something tangible . . . 

A place where you can literally consume grace.

That place is here. 
(Sorry, you came to a priest, 
so I’m giving you a priest’s answer.)

When this old world 
starts to getting you down 
and people are just to much 
for you to face, 
my advice 
is to come on home. 
Come on home to Jesus.

Literally, my advice 
is to come to church. 

To saturate yourself with loving community. 
To be in a place where we still believe 
that we can be together, 
despite differences. 

Where we kneel down 
across from one another 
side by side 
despite whatever differences we have 
and open our hands 
and receive of our Great High Priest, 
the Lamb of God, 
and consume 
grace 
upon grace 
upon grace. 

Even if we were the last ones on earth to still believe that, 
we’re going to believe it and practice it 
‘til our dying day, 
and we’re going to do it together.

 “You are what you eat,” 
and “you become like those 
with whom you surround yourself.” 

In other words, 
we Christians, 
we have a different worldview, 
and that matters.

* * * 

So if that is how we believe,
then how should we behave?

Well, as Christians,
we hold things loosely,
and that matters.

When Jesus sat in the temple,
he warned his disciples
about those in long fancy robes
who held power with a death grip.

But then he pointed
to a poor widow,
who gave two small coins—
everything she had.

She opened her hand.
She gave all she had.
She held it loosely.

A couple Sundays ago,
a man we had never seen before
sat in the front pew.

He looked like he was down on his luck—
maybe homeless.

When the offertory plate came around,
he reached into his pocket,
pulled out a fistful of coins,
and dropped them in.

Then he looked the usher in the eye
and said,
“I’m sorry. It’s all I have.”

Later, we learned
he had recently lost his spouse.
He, too, was a widower.

That day,
he was an icon
of true Christian values.

He held nothing back.
He held it all loosely.

And listen,
I know it’s stewardship season,
but at this point I’m not even talking about money.

I’m talking about power.

Because we have a Great High Priest,
we hold power loosely.

Our power as Christians
was never in politics,
but in the Prince of Peace.

That does not mean
we stick our heads in the sand.

It does not mean
we avoid the work of justice and compassion.

But our fight is different.
We stick up for those who have no power,
because we follow One
who gave it all away.

He gives justice to the oppressed,
and food to the hungry.
He sets the prisoners free,
and opens the eyes of the blind.

He lifts up those who are bowed down.
He loves the righteous.
He cares for the stranger.
He sustains the orphan and widow,
and frustrates the way of the wicked.

We Christians hold things loosely—
especially the powers of this world—
because our true power
is the power of actual love,
and actual hope,
and actual grace.

And that matters.

* * *

I know it has been a tough week.
As Christians, we have a Great High Priest, and that matters.
As Christians, we have a different worldview, and that matters.
As Christians, we hold things loosely, and that matters.

And as Christians,
we are here together today,
and that matters.

Amen.