Wellspring UMC; Palm/Passion Sunday; March 16, 2008: “What Does Christ Look Like?”:

-Philippians 2: 5-11

The question before us today on this Palm/Passion Sunday is, “What does Christ look like?” That question has been asked over and over again through the centuries by theologians and authors, by artists and artisans, by the Body of Christ in all times and places. If one was to google images of Christ, thousands of pictures would pop up, and if each of us were to describe what Christ looks like, everyone would share a different picture. But today, on this special day, I’d like for us to catch a glimpse of a unified portrait of Jesus, which in turn will help us to see and understand better who we are.

When I was in fifth grade, I experienced a precursor to the kind of block scheduling which is prevalent in so many schools today. I had a primary teacher, Mrs. Brooks, a wonderfully intelligent and inviting African-American who opened our minds to diverse cultures and ideas, and I had a secondary teacher with whom I spend about a third of the day. Her name was Mrs. Olson.

Edie Olson was one of my father’s parishioners, so I knew her from more than one context. This was a good thing, because she was a tough old bird. Mrs. Olson was the teacher no kid in their right mind would want to have, because she didn’t take anything off of anybody. She didn’t give a centimeter, much less an inch, and it drove the kids crazy.

She was old school teacher, and if she’d had her way, she’d have not spared the rod, and yet that old school instilled in her a wonderful sense of fairness, an infectious tenacity for learning and teaching, and a genuine love for each child in her classroom. Of course, if your idea of love was being allowed to get away with foolishness, you’d not feel it, but this was a woman who would do anything to help others become better people.

I loved Edie Olson, so much so that when I was in sixth grace I received three tickets to see the Redskins at JFK stadium. Along with my father I had the opportunity to choose another person to go with us. Regretfully for my brother, I chose Mrs. Olson, a diehard Redskins fan.

There were lots of things I liked about her. I loved how she was always fair in the classroom and in life, and how she expected much from anyone she met, especially her students. I loved how she was a straight shooter, and how she would spend hours with a kid who genuinely wanted to learn and understand. I loved that at near retirement age she would befriend a fifth grader like me.

There was one thing that few people knew about Mrs. Olson, but I did because she was a member of the church and my father the pastor. Edie Olson was the sole caretaker for an invalid husband. During school hours a nurse would watch and care for him, but once school was out she returned to her primary job of caring for the one to whom God had united her years before.

As a Navy wife she’d been all over the world with him, and as a person whose personality included integrity and grit, she stayed the course, did the job, and made sure that her husband would live his days as joyfully and full as they could be lived. As in everything she did, she did it well, and I saw Christ in her, and what has always been fascinating to me, in seeing Christ in her, I began to see Christ in myself.

Palm Sunday is a bit of an odd day in the liturgical calendar, because it can feel a bit unsettling to go from a party toward the tomb in less than 60 minutes. We enter with shouts of Hosanna and throngs laying palms and cloaks on the road into Jerusalem, and we exit leaving Christ in the Garden abandoned for death. It’s a Sunday where we go from a high high to a low low. It’s a day when the image of Christ can easily become muddled and confusing. And yet, in this day, through this time of worship, we see, maybe better than any other day in the year, what Christ really looks like. In seeing Him, we begin to see Christ in us.

Our scripture lesson today points to the image of Christ. Paul writes to the Philippians reminding them that they are called to be like Christ. That they/we are called to look like Christ, and here is his description of what Christ looks like.

“Christ Jesus took upon Himself the very nature of God.” That is, He looked like God, the Creator of all things, giver of life, lover of souls, molder of hearts...the center of all we know and are.

“He did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing.” That is, despite looking like God, He did not take for Himself the power of God. Instead that power was given to Him by God. But catch this, in order to do that, in order to receive, He made Himself nothing.

“He took the nature of a servant...a slave...” That is, he submitted Himself to the master, and did the things that needed to be done in order for the Master’s work to be accomplished, whatever the cost.

“Being made in human likeness, found in appearance as a man, He humbled himself and became obedient to death – even death on a cross.” Though fully man, because He was fully man, he humbled Himself. More than a slave, more than a servant, He lowered Himself to the place God needed Him to be, even though it led to His death. A brutal and horrific death, death on a shameful cross.

Then Paul makes an immediate shift, speaking of Christ being exalted and worshiped, that all of Creation bows before Him and confesses Him as Lord of all, but this only happens because of Christ’s submission and obedience.

What does Christ look like? Far different than the comforting, comfortable Jesus we so often wish to imagine in our mind’s eye. The image of Christ, the essence of Christ, the center of Christ is revealed in His humility and obedience. It is seen in His giving His all so the world would be saved.

We are entering the most powerful and holiest of weeks. Today begins the final journey to the Cross, and if you’ve never journeyed this road or haven’t in a long time, I invite you to come along. So often folks travel from Palm Sunday to Easter from parade to celebration, never going to the place in between, never humbling themselves with Christ, never going to the Cross, never entering the dark tomb, but only standing in a celebrating crowd then returning to gaze into an empty tomb. To do so makes for an easy Easter, but it does little to help us realize and receive in full the unbelievable gift that comes next week. To do so means we don’t see what Christ really looks like. We only see the Christ we want to see, not the Christ who really is, was, and is to come.

What does Christ look like? He looks like a King who turns convention on its head. He enters the city on a donkey, the symbol of humility and submission. He ends up at a table with his friends, celebrating the Passover Meal, but instead of doing the normal thing, He proclaims Himself as the Passover Lamb to die for the world. Instead of others washing His feet, He washes theirs. Instead of preventing or fighting those who would betray Him, He gives them the choice to do so, knowing that such things must happen.

What does this King look like? He looks like a common criminal, beaten and bloodied with a crown of thorns on His head. He is looked upon as a disgrace to society and disgraced by the religious establishment, for to be hung on a cross was the most shameful way to die. He looked quite honestly like a failure. A dead hero, easily forgotten, and with Him gone, the religious leaders, Government powers, and the world could then go on with business as usual.

We enter a time when we seek out what Christ truly looks like, as hard and as humbling as that can be. We enter this, not necessarily because we want to, but because we need to, for in seeking what Christ looks like and seeing who He really is, we are able to see Christ in ourselves and find out who we really are.

Generations of kids were disappointed when they found out that Edie Olson would be their fifth grade teacher. They didn’t want to be associated with someone so tough and so humbling. They didn’t like the fact that she had the ability to see and name who one really was, and at the same time they didn’t like that there was something under that tough exterior which invited them to take a hard look at themselves.

And yet, there were a few of us who saw in her an opportunity to be transformed. In walking with, learning from, and seeing her core, we were invited to see aspects of who we might become. We were invited to see Christ in her, which in turn invited us to see Christ in ourselves.

What does Christ look like? If you dare ask the question and seek the answer, you’ll see this week. In fact, you’ll see not just what Christ looks like, but maybe even what you truly look like in light of Christ’s life and death. Amen.