(Scriptures: Isaiah 6:1-8, Romans 8:1-17 John 3:1-17)
The Celts use the term “thin places” to refer to places where God’s presence seems especially near. The idea behind the phrase is that there’s a sort of invisible veil or curtain that separates the world we experience every day, the world we experience with our five senses, from eternity – and things are taking place in both worlds at the same time. That is to say, in this way of understanding, eternity is not just someplace we go when we die, but rather eternity is going on around us all the time, for the most part unseen and undetected. Except every now and then, in places experienced as “thin places”, it’s as if the veil or curtain between time and eternity is thinner than normal, and eternity almost seems to break through into time. The Bible records a number of such places – for example, in Genesis, after Jacob left his father to escape the wrath of Esau, at a certain place he later named Beth-El, he had the vision of a ladder from earth to heaven with angels ascending and descending the ladder. Jacob said, “Surely the Lord is in this place, and I did not know it! How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven!”
In today’s Old Testament reading, Isaiah experiences the Temple as such a “thin place”. From the imagery, it seems that while Isaiah was in worship at the Temple and the Temple liturgy was going on, he was caught up into a vision of a heavenly liturgy going on at the same time, in which the Lord was sitting on a throne, high and lifted up, being attended and worshipped by angels. We’re told that in this vision, the hem of his robe filled the Temple – perhaps for Isaiah in his vision, the veil in the Temple separating the people from the holy of holies comes to represent the hem of God’s robe.
Having experienced this almost indescribable scene, Isaiah becomes immediately aware of his own sinfulness and unworthiness. “Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips and I live among a people of unclean lips, yet my eyes of seen the King, the Lord of hosts.” Last week at the Bible study we read this in the Good News translation, and the wording stuck with me: “I am doomed because every word that passes my lips is sinful, and I live among a people whose every word is sinful.” No attempt to excuse himself or minimize his sin – just acknowledgement and confession. And then an angel touches a live coal to his lips and pronounces him cleansed from sin. He hears the Lord saying, “Whom shall I send, and who will go?” And Isaiah responds, “Here I am, send me.” If we think about it, this scene forms the pattern for our worship here at church – we assemble, sing a hymn of praise to God, and (except on communion Sundays) we pray a prayer of confession of sin, and hear the words of the assurance of pardon. Having been freed from our sin, we are freed to respond, as Isaiah did, “Here I am, send me” – by singing hymns of thanksgiving, by the giving of our tithes and offerings which can go places we can’t personally, and at the end of worship by being sent out into the world to serve the Lord.
Our reading from Paul’s letter to the Romans is, ultimately, the outcome of another such unexpected encounter with the divine. We know that while on the road to Damascus to hunt down and arrest Christians, he was given a vision of the risen Christ – and that vision caused Paul to turn from persecuting the church on the basis of the law as he understood it, to living in the Spirit and thus becoming the church’s greatest missionary. The cleansing from sin Isaiah experienced in his vision by way of the burning coal touched to his lips by the angel, in Paul’s telling, was given to him and is available to all through Christ. Thus, having written eloquently in Romans 7 about the inner struggle of one who delights in the law of the Lord, but finds himself captive to the sin of the flesh, Paul is then able to write, “There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus….For God has done what the law, weakened by the flesh, could not do: by sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh and to deal with sin, he condemned sin in the flesh, so that the just requirement of the law might be fulfilled in us, who walk not according to the flesh but according to the Spirit. For those who live according to the flesh set their minds on the things of the flesh, but those who live according to the Spirit set their minds on the things of the Spirit…..for all who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God. When we cry “Abba! Father! – even “Daddy!” – it is that very Spirit bearing witness with our Spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ.
Our Gospel reading provides yet another account of an encounter with the divine, as Nicodemus comes to Jesus at night. It is a less dramatic encounter than the others, but transformative just the same. Nicodemus initiates the encounter – he comes to Jesus, not the other way around – and at the outset seems to be firmly in control of the conversation: “Rabbi, we know you are a teacher who has come from God, for no one can do these signs that you do apart from the presence of God.” But then, as Jesus responds with a seeming non-sequitur – “Very truly I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above” – in the ensuing conversation about being born of the Spirit – “the wind blows where it will, and you hear its sound, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes; so it is with those who are born of the Spirit” - Nicodemus is thoroughly spun around, baffled, disoriented. And yet, out of his disorientation and confusion, faith slowly emerges, so that by the end of John’s Gospel Nicodemus is able to come forward publicly with Joseph of Arimithea to claim the body of Christ.
Today is Trinity Sunday, when we lift up the doctrine of the Trinity, one God in three persons, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. The word “Trinity” is nowhere found in Scripture – the naming of the persons of the Trinity, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, appears in just one place in Scripture, in Jesus’ Great Commission at the end of Matthew’s Gospel – “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you.” The doctrine of the Trinity was not dropped down from heaven on a tablet of stone, but hammered out in the early church over centuries and finally adopted as orthodoxy at the Council of Nicaea in 325 AD. This doctrine is a human attempt to make sense of encounters with the divine such as those experienced by Isaiah, Paul, and Nicodemus, human attempts to describe the indescribable. Some speak of the Trinity in terms of function – God the Father, Son and Holy Spirit are described respectively as Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer – the Father creates; the Son redeems, and the Spirit sustains. Others emphasize that the Trinity does not simply mean one God with three functions, but one God in three persons – that within the one God, within the Godhead, are three persons in an eternal dance of intimate love and mutual self-giving. We see some of this dance of self-giving in Jesus’ words from John’s Gospel - “As you, Father, are in me and I am in you, may they also be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me….I in them and you in me, that they may become completely one.” So in effect it is Jesus who invites each of us to “come join the dance”.
I began by describing thin places, encounters with the divine, and ended with a description of the three persons of the Trinity in a mutual dance of self-giving - dynamic images, images of motion and mystery. Often when humans, especially church folk, try to describe the indescribable, they turn that which is living and in motion into something static, a fixed orthodoxy from which no one is to deviate – and then use that fixed orthodoxy as a club or brickbat with which to beat over the head those who disagree. And those creedal clubs and brickbats have drawn much blood over many centuries. (As St. Paul writes, the letter kills, but the Spirit gives life.) And so, on this Trinity Sunday, I would invite us to focus, not so much on static creedal statements, however venerable, but on those moving, mysterious, unpredictable encounters as described in Scripture between humans and the divine. As is sometimes expressed in the United Church of Christ, we see the ancient creeds as testimonies of faith, not tests of faith – as descriptions of how our ancestors in the faith experienced the divine, not as prescriptions limiting how we today are to experience the divine. For we worship a God always in motion, a God who is still speaking, still acting, still creating and recreating. Remember that God’s name, which is usually translated “I am what I am” can also be translated “I will be what I will be.”
We had quite a discussion last week at the Bible study around the question, “Why do most of us not have visions today such as Isaiah had?” One thought was that it’s not given to everyone to experience visions. Some told of visions they’ve had. We also discussed that visions come in many forms – sometimes dreams, sometimes an inner voice or an intuition that we should follow this path rather than that path. One factor may be whether we are receptive to visions, to encounters with the Divine. We here in America live in a society where we believe that what we can see and hear and touch and taste and smell – what we can experience with our five senses, what we can explain by means of science and logic - is all there is. Other cultures are more open to the possibility that “there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamed of in our philosophy.” If we think we have everything all figured out – and if in our religious dogmatism we even think we have God all figured out - we may be blind and deaf to the leading of the Spirit. So I would encourage us, on this Trinity Sunday, to step off our society’s perpetual motion machine and spend time in prayer and meditation, to at least give God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, a chance to get a word in edgewise. Who knows what may happen! We may be granted to see visions and dream dreams; or it may be given to us to experience God’s leading as a still small voice which we must strain to hear.
As we prepare for communion, there’s a vision I’d invite us to consider – that our communion table is part of the Lord’s table, a table of fellowship that is not just here in this sanctuary, but a table that extends around the world, a table that extends, not just through space, but through time. At this table we in our small gathering are brought together with believers of many languages in many lands, that we gather here as your mothers and fathers and grandmothers and grandfathers did for many generations since 1861, remembering the words of Jesus, “This do in remembrance of me.” Having confessed our sins and received assurance of pardon, having joined with believers around the world at the table, may we hear God’s call, “Who will go for us”, and may we at Emanuel Church respond, “Here we are! Send us!” Amen.
Monday, June 4, 2012
Preaching to Dry Bones
(Scriptures: Ezekiel 37:1-14 Acts 2:1-21, Romans 8:18-27 John 15:26-27; John 16:1-15)
It was not a pretty sight. Ezekiel was led by the Spirit of the Lord, we’re told, to a valley full of dry bones. Perhaps this valley had been the site of some long-ago battle, and these bones represented some sort of mass grave. We’re told not only that there were lots and lots of bones, but that they were very, very dry. These bones were the last remains of people who had been dead for a long time; the flesh had long been picked by the vultures, and whatever flesh the vultures had missed had long ago rotten away. Even the marrow in the center of the bones had dried up. These bones were dead, dead, dead.
And the Lord asks Ezekiel what seems to be a very silly question: “Can these bones live?” If I were in Ezekiel’s place and heard the Lord’s question, it wouldn’t take me long to answer: “Are you nuts? Don’t you see how dead and dry and bare of flesh these bones are? Heck no, these bones can’t live.”
Fortunately, the Lord asked the question, not to me, but to Ezekiel. And Ezekiel came up with exactly the right answer: “O Lord, you know.” Ezekiel wasn’t going to go so far as to say they definitely would live, but he wouldn’t rule out the possibility – at least, not when the Lord of life and death is in the house.
Having asked Ezekiel what seems to be a silly question, he then asks Ezekiel to do what seems like a very silly thing: “Prophesy to the bones, and say to them, “O dry bones, hear the word of the Lord. Thus says the Lord God to these bones, I will cause breath to enter you, and you shall live. I’d like you to picture yourself in that valley, talking to the bones, preaching to them, telling them that God still had plans for them, still saw the possibility of life where all there was to be seen in any direction was death. I know how silly I’d feel if I stepped out into our cemetery and started preaching to the headstones. But, again, fortunately it was Ezekiel, and not I, in the valley of dry bones.
Having preached as instructed, Ezekiel now had bodies in front of him – but with no breath in them, no spirit. So God tells Ezekiel to preach to the breath or spirit to go back into these bodies. And they come to life, a vast army. Ezekiel is told that the bones represent the people of Israel, who have lost all hope, and whom God proposes to call up out of their grave of despair, figuratively speaking.
The story of Ezekiel preaching to the dry bones seems like one of those impossible Bible stories that is so disconnected from our experience that it has nothing to do with our lives. And yet, this morning I’m here to say that God calls us in the church, calls us, who are Christ’s hands and feet in the world, to preach life into dead bones – all the time. We who claim as our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, who was killed by men and raised by God, we who follow in the way of Jesus who raised Lazarus from the dead, worship a God who still brings hope to the hopeless, the joy of the Lord to those who despair, the peace of God that passes all understanding to those who are paralyzed with fear – in a word, who speaks the life of Christ into persons and situations that are seemingly as far beyond hope as that valley of dry bones. Every one of us carries burdens of anxiety over our own health and circumstances, and worries about those we love. But, as Christians, we worship a God who is greater than our problems. As I’ve heard it said, “don’t tell God how great your problems are; instead, tell your problems how great God is.” If you’re tempted to think of yourself and your life and your circumstances as hopeless – like a pile of dead, dry bones – Ezekiel’s got a sermon to preach to you. As we say in the United Church of Christ, never place a period where God has placed a comma. As Christians, neither life nor death nor height nor depth nor things present nor things to come nor anything else in all creation can separate us from the love of God. We worship a God who is still very much in the healing business, a God who still saves, a God who is powerful to still the wind and waves of trouble that buffet our lives. Even a valley of dead bones is not beyond God’s reach. God will put his renewing spirit within us, and we will know that the Lord has spoken and will act. Even if we feel so dried up and desolate of hope that we cannot find the words to pray, Paul assures us that “the Spirit helps us in our weakness, interceding with sighs to deep for words. And God, who searches the heart, knows what is in the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God.”
And, with God’s spirit within us, it’s our call to preach to those around us who have given up hope, whose hopes have dried up like piles of dead bones. It’s my call as pastor of Emanuel Church, and it’s your call as members of Emanuel Church, when God leads us to a valley of dry bones, to speak and act in ways that are life-giving. It’s not easy to speak life in places and situations where others see only death, not easy to speak and act in ways that are life-giving when even many churches all too often speak and act in ways that are death-dealing – but that is our call. (As Paul once wrote, the letter of the law kills, but the Spirit gives life.)
Our reading from the 2nd chapter of the Acts of the Apostles shows us what it looks like when the Spirit of God moves in the lives of God’s people, and God’s people are inspired to speak and act in new ways. Remember, Luke tells us that after Jesus’ ascension, the disciples were instructed to stay in Jerusalem and await the coming of the Spirit. And while they were waiting, not a lot happened. They did some organizational housekeeping, electing Matthias to fill the vacancy in the apostles left by Judas – though we basically never hear of Matthias again. But when the Spirit came with power on Pentecost, and all those on whom the spirit fell spoke in tongues and testified about God’s deeds of power – when some were frightened and others scoffed, it was Peter who received the power of the Spirit to preach the words of life, to speak God’s truth and love to those who were gathered. Indeed, God’s spirit not only empowers us, but instructs us, for as Jesus told his disciples, ‘When the Advocate comes, whom I will send to you from the Father, he will testify on my behalf. You also are to testify because you have been with me from the beginning…..I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now. When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all truth, for he will not speak on his own, but will speak whatever he hears, and he will declare to you the things that are to come. He will glorify me, because he will take what is mine and declare it to you. All that the Father has is mine. For this reason I said that he will take what is mind and declare it to you.” It is an awesome thing to consider that the Spirit that in the Old Testament was poured out on special men and women of God, like Ezekiel, has now been poured out on us in the church.
I was at a clergy meeting earlier this week, and we did an extended study on these words from God to Ezekiel: “A new heart I give you, and a new spirit I will put within you. I will remove from your body the heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.” And some of the clergy discussed – as we here have often discussed during the Bible study – why the churches struggle so, why so many, inside and outside of the church, seemingly have hearts of stone. You see, clergy get discouraged too. One of the pastors said, “What if we are living in a time like that of Isaiah…what if God has decreed that no matter what we do, the people will “keep listening but not comprehend, keep looking but not understand, that the peoples’ minds will be dull, their ears stopped, their eyes shut, so that may not look with their eyes and listen with their ears and comprehend with their minds and turn and be healed.” It’s a daunting prospect – God’s people through the ages after Isaiah departed this earth have drawn great inspiration from Isaiah’s writings, but consider how discouraging it must have been for Isaiah to be commissioned in a vision from God to preach, yet knowing from the outset that no matter how faithful he was, hardly anyone around him would respond. And yet, just as God called Isaiah to be faithful in his time, in the same way God calls us to be faithful in ours. So we must preach the word, in season and out of season. We must preach the word – even if all that’s in front of us to listen is a pile of dry bones.
“Can these bones live?” the Lord asked Ezekiel, and the Lord asks us. No matter how desolate, may we honor God by responding, “Oh Lord, you know”, and giving God’s spirit space and place to act. Whether the Spirit comes as the rush of a mighty wind and tongues of fire, or whether the Spirit speaks to us in a still small voice, may we hear, and when we hear, where the Spirit leads, may we at Emanuel Church follow. Amen.
It was not a pretty sight. Ezekiel was led by the Spirit of the Lord, we’re told, to a valley full of dry bones. Perhaps this valley had been the site of some long-ago battle, and these bones represented some sort of mass grave. We’re told not only that there were lots and lots of bones, but that they were very, very dry. These bones were the last remains of people who had been dead for a long time; the flesh had long been picked by the vultures, and whatever flesh the vultures had missed had long ago rotten away. Even the marrow in the center of the bones had dried up. These bones were dead, dead, dead.
And the Lord asks Ezekiel what seems to be a very silly question: “Can these bones live?” If I were in Ezekiel’s place and heard the Lord’s question, it wouldn’t take me long to answer: “Are you nuts? Don’t you see how dead and dry and bare of flesh these bones are? Heck no, these bones can’t live.”
Fortunately, the Lord asked the question, not to me, but to Ezekiel. And Ezekiel came up with exactly the right answer: “O Lord, you know.” Ezekiel wasn’t going to go so far as to say they definitely would live, but he wouldn’t rule out the possibility – at least, not when the Lord of life and death is in the house.
Having asked Ezekiel what seems to be a silly question, he then asks Ezekiel to do what seems like a very silly thing: “Prophesy to the bones, and say to them, “O dry bones, hear the word of the Lord. Thus says the Lord God to these bones, I will cause breath to enter you, and you shall live. I’d like you to picture yourself in that valley, talking to the bones, preaching to them, telling them that God still had plans for them, still saw the possibility of life where all there was to be seen in any direction was death. I know how silly I’d feel if I stepped out into our cemetery and started preaching to the headstones. But, again, fortunately it was Ezekiel, and not I, in the valley of dry bones.
Having preached as instructed, Ezekiel now had bodies in front of him – but with no breath in them, no spirit. So God tells Ezekiel to preach to the breath or spirit to go back into these bodies. And they come to life, a vast army. Ezekiel is told that the bones represent the people of Israel, who have lost all hope, and whom God proposes to call up out of their grave of despair, figuratively speaking.
The story of Ezekiel preaching to the dry bones seems like one of those impossible Bible stories that is so disconnected from our experience that it has nothing to do with our lives. And yet, this morning I’m here to say that God calls us in the church, calls us, who are Christ’s hands and feet in the world, to preach life into dead bones – all the time. We who claim as our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, who was killed by men and raised by God, we who follow in the way of Jesus who raised Lazarus from the dead, worship a God who still brings hope to the hopeless, the joy of the Lord to those who despair, the peace of God that passes all understanding to those who are paralyzed with fear – in a word, who speaks the life of Christ into persons and situations that are seemingly as far beyond hope as that valley of dry bones. Every one of us carries burdens of anxiety over our own health and circumstances, and worries about those we love. But, as Christians, we worship a God who is greater than our problems. As I’ve heard it said, “don’t tell God how great your problems are; instead, tell your problems how great God is.” If you’re tempted to think of yourself and your life and your circumstances as hopeless – like a pile of dead, dry bones – Ezekiel’s got a sermon to preach to you. As we say in the United Church of Christ, never place a period where God has placed a comma. As Christians, neither life nor death nor height nor depth nor things present nor things to come nor anything else in all creation can separate us from the love of God. We worship a God who is still very much in the healing business, a God who still saves, a God who is powerful to still the wind and waves of trouble that buffet our lives. Even a valley of dead bones is not beyond God’s reach. God will put his renewing spirit within us, and we will know that the Lord has spoken and will act. Even if we feel so dried up and desolate of hope that we cannot find the words to pray, Paul assures us that “the Spirit helps us in our weakness, interceding with sighs to deep for words. And God, who searches the heart, knows what is in the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God.”
And, with God’s spirit within us, it’s our call to preach to those around us who have given up hope, whose hopes have dried up like piles of dead bones. It’s my call as pastor of Emanuel Church, and it’s your call as members of Emanuel Church, when God leads us to a valley of dry bones, to speak and act in ways that are life-giving. It’s not easy to speak life in places and situations where others see only death, not easy to speak and act in ways that are life-giving when even many churches all too often speak and act in ways that are death-dealing – but that is our call. (As Paul once wrote, the letter of the law kills, but the Spirit gives life.)
Our reading from the 2nd chapter of the Acts of the Apostles shows us what it looks like when the Spirit of God moves in the lives of God’s people, and God’s people are inspired to speak and act in new ways. Remember, Luke tells us that after Jesus’ ascension, the disciples were instructed to stay in Jerusalem and await the coming of the Spirit. And while they were waiting, not a lot happened. They did some organizational housekeeping, electing Matthias to fill the vacancy in the apostles left by Judas – though we basically never hear of Matthias again. But when the Spirit came with power on Pentecost, and all those on whom the spirit fell spoke in tongues and testified about God’s deeds of power – when some were frightened and others scoffed, it was Peter who received the power of the Spirit to preach the words of life, to speak God’s truth and love to those who were gathered. Indeed, God’s spirit not only empowers us, but instructs us, for as Jesus told his disciples, ‘When the Advocate comes, whom I will send to you from the Father, he will testify on my behalf. You also are to testify because you have been with me from the beginning…..I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now. When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all truth, for he will not speak on his own, but will speak whatever he hears, and he will declare to you the things that are to come. He will glorify me, because he will take what is mine and declare it to you. All that the Father has is mine. For this reason I said that he will take what is mind and declare it to you.” It is an awesome thing to consider that the Spirit that in the Old Testament was poured out on special men and women of God, like Ezekiel, has now been poured out on us in the church.
I was at a clergy meeting earlier this week, and we did an extended study on these words from God to Ezekiel: “A new heart I give you, and a new spirit I will put within you. I will remove from your body the heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.” And some of the clergy discussed – as we here have often discussed during the Bible study – why the churches struggle so, why so many, inside and outside of the church, seemingly have hearts of stone. You see, clergy get discouraged too. One of the pastors said, “What if we are living in a time like that of Isaiah…what if God has decreed that no matter what we do, the people will “keep listening but not comprehend, keep looking but not understand, that the peoples’ minds will be dull, their ears stopped, their eyes shut, so that may not look with their eyes and listen with their ears and comprehend with their minds and turn and be healed.” It’s a daunting prospect – God’s people through the ages after Isaiah departed this earth have drawn great inspiration from Isaiah’s writings, but consider how discouraging it must have been for Isaiah to be commissioned in a vision from God to preach, yet knowing from the outset that no matter how faithful he was, hardly anyone around him would respond. And yet, just as God called Isaiah to be faithful in his time, in the same way God calls us to be faithful in ours. So we must preach the word, in season and out of season. We must preach the word – even if all that’s in front of us to listen is a pile of dry bones.
“Can these bones live?” the Lord asked Ezekiel, and the Lord asks us. No matter how desolate, may we honor God by responding, “Oh Lord, you know”, and giving God’s spirit space and place to act. Whether the Spirit comes as the rush of a mighty wind and tongues of fire, or whether the Spirit speaks to us in a still small voice, may we hear, and when we hear, where the Spirit leads, may we at Emanuel Church follow. Amen.
Chosen Witnesses
(Scriptures: Acts 1:1-11, Ephesians 1:15-23 John 17:1-25)
When I looked at this morning’s texts, the first thing that came to my mind was, of all things, a car commercial. You’ve likely seen it – a little girl, maybe Penny’s age, is sitting in the car’s driver’s seat, and daddy is telling her about adjusting the mirrors, instructs her to wear her seat belt, cautions her against driving on the freeway, and on and on. At the end of the commercial, we see that the driver is a young lady in her late teens or early 20’s, and the voiceover says, “You knew this day would come……” Daddy’s little girl is all grown up and ready for her turn in the driver’s seat.
Our reading from the first chapter of Acts this morning shows Jesus and the disciples in a moment that perhaps is not so different. Jesus is about to ascend to the Father, and while he will be present spiritually, he will no longer be in the flesh walking beside them. The training wheels are coming off. While Jesus will be present to guide them, the disciples, in a sense, are going to be in the driver’s seat. I’m hoping that it isn’t pushing the metaphor too far to say that henceforth, Jesus will be like their GPS system, showing them the way forward, cautioning them – like a GPS saying “recalculating” – when they’re going off course. But GPS systems can be ignored and shut off, and history bears sad testimony that sometimes the church has ignored the guidance of the Spirit as well.
Even in today’s reading in Acts, it’s clear the disciples don’t yet know where they’re headed. They ask Jesus, “Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?” After all they’ve been through together, they will don’t quite get it. But, like the father in the commercial, Jesus gives them cautions and instructions: He ordered them not to leave Jerusalem – sort of like daddy in the commercial cautioning “don’t drive on the freeway yet” - until they have received the power of the Holy Spirit. And Jesus told them, “You will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” To the ends of the earth! – wow – better fasten your seatbelts, this is going to be quite a ride.
The car commercial I mentioned has no particular religious overtones, but from the concerned or worried tone of the father’s voice, you might think he’s sending up some silent prayers for his daughter’s safety. In our reading from John’s Gospel – sometimes referred to as Jesus’ high priestly prayer for his disciples - which takes place while the disciples are gathered at the Last Supper, just before Jesus departs for the garden where he will be betrayed, Jesus knows that he will not be with them much longer, and he prays aloud to his heavenly father to keep the disciples safe when Jesus is no longer with them in the flesh. Jesus prays that even though he will no longer be physically with them, that Jesus will in some mystical sense be in them, and they in him, just as he is in the Father and the Father is in him. You who are parents know what it is, when your children have come of age, to cut loose the apron strings and send them out into the world. You hope that of all you taught them, at least some of it has stuck; you’ll be there to step in if they get into serious trouble, but they will no longer be under your watchful eye every minute of every day. And this is how for Jesus and his disciples when Jesus makes this prayer - He prays that as they go forth, Jesus will be in them so that where they go, Jesus goes, and he prays to God to keep the disciples together – that they may all be one – when they are sent out into the world.
Last week during the Bible study, we looked at this reading from John’s Gospel, Jesus’ prayer for his disciples. And there was a question: “Do you really believe that we’re chosen by God?” And I answered “yes” – after all, earlier that morning we’d read Jesus’ words, “You did not choose me, but I chose you. And I appointed you to go and bear fruit, fruit that will last, so that the Father will give you whatever you ask him in my name.” But that question has been tugging at me since then all week – “Do you really believe we’re chosen by God?” And I thought about Emanuel Church, our presence here in Bridesburg these 150 years. And I do believe we, each of us here, has been chosen by God. It’s only because we were first chosen by God that we in turn can respond to God’s choice by choosing to be here. We did not choose Christ, but Christ first chose us. I remember the opening words of Emanuel’s 100th anniversary history, which were retained in the 150th anniversary booklet: “This is the history of your church from a humble beginning – the need of which God made known to a few in 1857 – to the present day.” So from the earliest days of your church history, there was a sense that those who founded this church were chosen by God to meet a distinctive need, to carry a distinctive message, to carry out a distinctive purpose. Remember also that in the earliest years of this church’s history, the congregation was served by Lutheran and Methodist pastors. While the members were grateful for the efforts of these pastors, they felt that in their Reformed tradition there was a distinctive voice, a distinctive Word of Good News, which would be silenced if the congregation followed these early pastors into the Lutheran or Methodist tradition. And I believe that to this day, even though Bridesburg has no shortage of churches, I believe that we as a congregation of the United Church of Christ have a distinctive word of welcome and good news to proclaim. So, yes, I believe we as individuals were chosen, and I believe our congregation was chosen by God to witness to the Gospel here in Bridesburg. It’s not because of any particular merit on our part – if we start feeling puffed up at being chosen by God, perhaps we can reflect that Balaam’s donkey was chosen by God to speak to Balaam. And certainly the disciples, as we read about them in the Gospels, were very ordinary people. And yet God chose them – as God has chosen us – has called them and us out of the world, to be sent back into the world bearing the Good News of Christ.
Jesus said, “I appointed you to go to go and bear fruit, fruit that will last.” Jesus has chosen and appointed us, not to pat ourselves on the back, but to bear fruit. Our reading from Acts gives us more specific information on what it means to bear fruit: “You will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” In your bulletin, I printed an expanded image of our UCC logo – partly because I had available space – but mostly because this logo is drawn directly from today’s readings from John and Acts. The words “that they may all be one” are drawn directly from Jesus’ high priestly prayer in John’s Gospel.that we read today. The image in the center is drawn from Acts: The crown, cross and globe represent the Lordship of Christ over the whole world, and the division of the globe into three parts represents the words, “you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem” – that’s one of the smaller parts – “in all Judea and Samaria” – that’s the other smaller part – and to the ends of the earth” – that represents the bottom portion of the globe. These verses – that we may all be one and that we may be witnesses to Jerusalem, to Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth – were the vision that guided those who brought together the Congregational Christian and Evangelical and Reformed Churches to form the United Church of Christ. And it provides a vision for us here in Bridesburg. We are to be united in Christ, and we are to be Christ’s witnesses – to those immediately around us, to those a little further distant, and around the world. Emanuel Church’s version of Jesus’ commission might sound like this: “you will be my witnesses in Bridesburg, in Port Richmond and Philadelphia, and to the ends of the earth.” This is the work for which God has chosen us and appointed us here at Emanuel Church. May we at Emanuel Church never balk at carrying out the great work for which we have been chosen. Amen.
When I looked at this morning’s texts, the first thing that came to my mind was, of all things, a car commercial. You’ve likely seen it – a little girl, maybe Penny’s age, is sitting in the car’s driver’s seat, and daddy is telling her about adjusting the mirrors, instructs her to wear her seat belt, cautions her against driving on the freeway, and on and on. At the end of the commercial, we see that the driver is a young lady in her late teens or early 20’s, and the voiceover says, “You knew this day would come……” Daddy’s little girl is all grown up and ready for her turn in the driver’s seat.
Our reading from the first chapter of Acts this morning shows Jesus and the disciples in a moment that perhaps is not so different. Jesus is about to ascend to the Father, and while he will be present spiritually, he will no longer be in the flesh walking beside them. The training wheels are coming off. While Jesus will be present to guide them, the disciples, in a sense, are going to be in the driver’s seat. I’m hoping that it isn’t pushing the metaphor too far to say that henceforth, Jesus will be like their GPS system, showing them the way forward, cautioning them – like a GPS saying “recalculating” – when they’re going off course. But GPS systems can be ignored and shut off, and history bears sad testimony that sometimes the church has ignored the guidance of the Spirit as well.
Even in today’s reading in Acts, it’s clear the disciples don’t yet know where they’re headed. They ask Jesus, “Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?” After all they’ve been through together, they will don’t quite get it. But, like the father in the commercial, Jesus gives them cautions and instructions: He ordered them not to leave Jerusalem – sort of like daddy in the commercial cautioning “don’t drive on the freeway yet” - until they have received the power of the Holy Spirit. And Jesus told them, “You will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” To the ends of the earth! – wow – better fasten your seatbelts, this is going to be quite a ride.
The car commercial I mentioned has no particular religious overtones, but from the concerned or worried tone of the father’s voice, you might think he’s sending up some silent prayers for his daughter’s safety. In our reading from John’s Gospel – sometimes referred to as Jesus’ high priestly prayer for his disciples - which takes place while the disciples are gathered at the Last Supper, just before Jesus departs for the garden where he will be betrayed, Jesus knows that he will not be with them much longer, and he prays aloud to his heavenly father to keep the disciples safe when Jesus is no longer with them in the flesh. Jesus prays that even though he will no longer be physically with them, that Jesus will in some mystical sense be in them, and they in him, just as he is in the Father and the Father is in him. You who are parents know what it is, when your children have come of age, to cut loose the apron strings and send them out into the world. You hope that of all you taught them, at least some of it has stuck; you’ll be there to step in if they get into serious trouble, but they will no longer be under your watchful eye every minute of every day. And this is how for Jesus and his disciples when Jesus makes this prayer - He prays that as they go forth, Jesus will be in them so that where they go, Jesus goes, and he prays to God to keep the disciples together – that they may all be one – when they are sent out into the world.
Last week during the Bible study, we looked at this reading from John’s Gospel, Jesus’ prayer for his disciples. And there was a question: “Do you really believe that we’re chosen by God?” And I answered “yes” – after all, earlier that morning we’d read Jesus’ words, “You did not choose me, but I chose you. And I appointed you to go and bear fruit, fruit that will last, so that the Father will give you whatever you ask him in my name.” But that question has been tugging at me since then all week – “Do you really believe we’re chosen by God?” And I thought about Emanuel Church, our presence here in Bridesburg these 150 years. And I do believe we, each of us here, has been chosen by God. It’s only because we were first chosen by God that we in turn can respond to God’s choice by choosing to be here. We did not choose Christ, but Christ first chose us. I remember the opening words of Emanuel’s 100th anniversary history, which were retained in the 150th anniversary booklet: “This is the history of your church from a humble beginning – the need of which God made known to a few in 1857 – to the present day.” So from the earliest days of your church history, there was a sense that those who founded this church were chosen by God to meet a distinctive need, to carry a distinctive message, to carry out a distinctive purpose. Remember also that in the earliest years of this church’s history, the congregation was served by Lutheran and Methodist pastors. While the members were grateful for the efforts of these pastors, they felt that in their Reformed tradition there was a distinctive voice, a distinctive Word of Good News, which would be silenced if the congregation followed these early pastors into the Lutheran or Methodist tradition. And I believe that to this day, even though Bridesburg has no shortage of churches, I believe that we as a congregation of the United Church of Christ have a distinctive word of welcome and good news to proclaim. So, yes, I believe we as individuals were chosen, and I believe our congregation was chosen by God to witness to the Gospel here in Bridesburg. It’s not because of any particular merit on our part – if we start feeling puffed up at being chosen by God, perhaps we can reflect that Balaam’s donkey was chosen by God to speak to Balaam. And certainly the disciples, as we read about them in the Gospels, were very ordinary people. And yet God chose them – as God has chosen us – has called them and us out of the world, to be sent back into the world bearing the Good News of Christ.
Jesus said, “I appointed you to go to go and bear fruit, fruit that will last.” Jesus has chosen and appointed us, not to pat ourselves on the back, but to bear fruit. Our reading from Acts gives us more specific information on what it means to bear fruit: “You will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” In your bulletin, I printed an expanded image of our UCC logo – partly because I had available space – but mostly because this logo is drawn directly from today’s readings from John and Acts. The words “that they may all be one” are drawn directly from Jesus’ high priestly prayer in John’s Gospel.that we read today. The image in the center is drawn from Acts: The crown, cross and globe represent the Lordship of Christ over the whole world, and the division of the globe into three parts represents the words, “you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem” – that’s one of the smaller parts – “in all Judea and Samaria” – that’s the other smaller part – and to the ends of the earth” – that represents the bottom portion of the globe. These verses – that we may all be one and that we may be witnesses to Jerusalem, to Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth – were the vision that guided those who brought together the Congregational Christian and Evangelical and Reformed Churches to form the United Church of Christ. And it provides a vision for us here in Bridesburg. We are to be united in Christ, and we are to be Christ’s witnesses – to those immediately around us, to those a little further distant, and around the world. Emanuel Church’s version of Jesus’ commission might sound like this: “you will be my witnesses in Bridesburg, in Port Richmond and Philadelphia, and to the ends of the earth.” This is the work for which God has chosen us and appointed us here at Emanuel Church. May we at Emanuel Church never balk at carrying out the great work for which we have been chosen. Amen.
Sunday, May 13, 2012
Love Without Borders
(Scriptures: Acts 10:44-48; I John 5:1-6; John 15:9-17)
The organization Doctors Without Borders describes itself as “an international medical humanitarian organization working in nearly 70 countries to assist people whose survival is threatened by violence, neglect, or catastrophe.” The organization is committed to bringing quality medical care to people in crisis without regard to race, religion, or political affiliation. The success of Doctors Without Borders has inspired other professionals, such as Architects Without Borders and Engineers Without Borders, to use their varied skills and training to provide humanitarian assistance to persons in crisis, without regard to nationality, literally providing humanitarian aid across national and cultural lines; in short, assistance without borders.
This coming Thursday, May 17 is Ascension Day, when we remember that Jesus, in the words of the Apostles Creed, “ascended into heaven, and sitteth on the right hand of God the Father Almighty, from thence he shall come to judge the quick and the dead.” Since this church has not traditionally held Thursday Ascension Day services, we will read the Ascension Day texts next Sunday.
Today’s readings from John’s Gospel are part of Jesus’ farewell discourse to his disciples, before his betrayal in the garden. Time was fleeting, and the time for small talk was past, and so in the remaining time, Jesus underscored what was most important. Time was fleeting, time was short, and so Jesus used the time remaining to leave his disciples with words to guide them when he would no longer be with them.
And what Jesus left his disciples was an appeal to their love for Jesus, and a command to love one another in the same way Jesus had loved them. “A new commandment I give you, that you love one another. If you love me, you will keep my commandments. If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love.” This love isn’t a matter of emotions – which come and go – but of will and commitment. Sort of like the love between spouses or longtime partners, which goes on even through those moments when one spouse or partner may be working the other’s last nerve. Or the love between parent and child, when love continues, even during those times when they may find little to like about one another. In the short time left to him, Jesus sketched out his vision for the quality of community his disciples would create, a community grounded in mutual love. And, indeed, more than 100 years after this conversation, outsiders to the Christian community would comment, “See how these Christians love one another.”
Jesus’ command for us to love one another is a great challenge – especially since, given the ongoing work of the Holy Spirit in the world, we don’t know who will be called into the Christian community. Jesus doesn’t call us to be a small, closed community, a holy huddle, barricaded against outsiders, but a community that’s always ready to welcome the stranger, always ready to embrace the spirit of God working within each of those whom God sends our way. Remember our reading from last Sunday – Jesus is the vine, and we are the branches. Those branches that bear no fruit will be cut off from the vine. And in order to bear fruit, we must welcome and love those whom God sends to us. Otherwise, we will rapidly dry up, shrivel up, and fall from grace.
“This is my commandment, that you love one another.” The Christian church extends beyond our door; indeed, the table of the Lord extends around the globe. We may well ask, “How can we love those whom we have never met.” The familiar words of the prophet Micah provide the answer: What does the Lord require – that we do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with God. Doing justice, acting in mercy, creating a society grounded in justice and mercy, are ways God has provided us to act in love toward those whom we’ll never meet. To use a popular phrase, as Christians, we are called to think globally and act locally. We must act in love toward those brothers and sisters right in front of us, and act in ways that are just and merciful to those whom we will never meet, but who just as surely are sister and brother to each of us.
Of course, today is Mother’s Day, founded by Anna Jarvis, who is buried in West Laurel Hill Cemetery in Bala Cynwyd, just outside the city. Anna’s mother, Ann Jarvis, was inspired by Julia Ward Howe’s Mothers Day Proclamation – which is at the end of this post – to work for peace and reconciliation, as she tended to wounded Union and Confederate veterans alike, without regard to which side they had taken in the Civil War. Ann Jarvis died in 1905, and her daughter Anna Jarvis campaigned to establish Mothers’ Day to honor her mother – and by extension, the radical vision of Julia Ward Howe’s proclamation. President Woodrow Wilson established Mothers Day as a national holiday – but it rapidly became a windfall for sellers of flowers, candy, and greeting cards, so much so that Anna Jarvis rapidly became embittered that it so quickly became a Hallmark holiday, so much so that indeed by the end of her life, Anna Jarvis campaigned against it. Anna Jarvis especially detested commercial Mothers Day cards. As she wrote: “A printed card means nothing except that you are too lazy to write to the woman who has done more for you than anyone in the world. And candy! You take a box to Mother—and then eat most of it yourself. A pretty sentiment.”
So on this Mother’s Day, 2012, I would challenge us to look beyond the Hallmark holiday that Mothers’ Day has become, to see the vision that Julia Ward Howe espoused – a vision in which the mothers of one country would refuse to send their sons off to kill the sons of mothers in other countries, a vision in which mothers around the globe would work for peace and justice. May we in the church join Doctors Without Borders, Architects without Borders, and Engineers without Borders, to offer Love Without Borders. I can think of few better ways to honor the original intent of Mothers’ Day – and the commandment of our Lord Jesus Christ to love one another. Amen.
Mother's Day Proclamation (Julia Ward Howe, 1870)
Arise then...women of this day!
Arise, all women who have hearts!
Whether your baptism be of water or of tears!
Say firmly:
"We will not have questions answered by irrelevant agencies,
Our husbands will not come to us, reeking with carnage,
For caresses and applause.
Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn
All that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy and patience.
We, the women of one country,
Will be too tender of those of another country
To allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs."
From the bosom of a devastated Earth a voice goes up with
Our own. It says: "Disarm! Disarm!
The sword of murder is not the balance of justice."
Blood does not wipe out dishonor,
Nor violence indicate possession.
As men have often forsaken the plough and the anvil
At the summons of war,
Let women now leave all that may be left of home
For a great and earnest day of counsel.
Let them meet first, as women, to bewail and commemorate the dead.
Let them solemnly take counsel with each other as to the means
Whereby the great human family can live in peace...
Each bearing after his own time the sacred impress, not of Caesar,
But of God -
In the name of womanhood and humanity, I earnestly ask
That a general congress of women without limit of nationality,
May be appointed and held at someplace deemed most convenient
And the earliest period consistent with its objects,
To promote the alliance of the different nationalities,
The amicable settlement of international questions,
The great and general interests of peace.
The organization Doctors Without Borders describes itself as “an international medical humanitarian organization working in nearly 70 countries to assist people whose survival is threatened by violence, neglect, or catastrophe.” The organization is committed to bringing quality medical care to people in crisis without regard to race, religion, or political affiliation. The success of Doctors Without Borders has inspired other professionals, such as Architects Without Borders and Engineers Without Borders, to use their varied skills and training to provide humanitarian assistance to persons in crisis, without regard to nationality, literally providing humanitarian aid across national and cultural lines; in short, assistance without borders.
This coming Thursday, May 17 is Ascension Day, when we remember that Jesus, in the words of the Apostles Creed, “ascended into heaven, and sitteth on the right hand of God the Father Almighty, from thence he shall come to judge the quick and the dead.” Since this church has not traditionally held Thursday Ascension Day services, we will read the Ascension Day texts next Sunday.
Today’s readings from John’s Gospel are part of Jesus’ farewell discourse to his disciples, before his betrayal in the garden. Time was fleeting, and the time for small talk was past, and so in the remaining time, Jesus underscored what was most important. Time was fleeting, time was short, and so Jesus used the time remaining to leave his disciples with words to guide them when he would no longer be with them.
And what Jesus left his disciples was an appeal to their love for Jesus, and a command to love one another in the same way Jesus had loved them. “A new commandment I give you, that you love one another. If you love me, you will keep my commandments. If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love.” This love isn’t a matter of emotions – which come and go – but of will and commitment. Sort of like the love between spouses or longtime partners, which goes on even through those moments when one spouse or partner may be working the other’s last nerve. Or the love between parent and child, when love continues, even during those times when they may find little to like about one another. In the short time left to him, Jesus sketched out his vision for the quality of community his disciples would create, a community grounded in mutual love. And, indeed, more than 100 years after this conversation, outsiders to the Christian community would comment, “See how these Christians love one another.”
Jesus’ command for us to love one another is a great challenge – especially since, given the ongoing work of the Holy Spirit in the world, we don’t know who will be called into the Christian community. Jesus doesn’t call us to be a small, closed community, a holy huddle, barricaded against outsiders, but a community that’s always ready to welcome the stranger, always ready to embrace the spirit of God working within each of those whom God sends our way. Remember our reading from last Sunday – Jesus is the vine, and we are the branches. Those branches that bear no fruit will be cut off from the vine. And in order to bear fruit, we must welcome and love those whom God sends to us. Otherwise, we will rapidly dry up, shrivel up, and fall from grace.
“This is my commandment, that you love one another.” The Christian church extends beyond our door; indeed, the table of the Lord extends around the globe. We may well ask, “How can we love those whom we have never met.” The familiar words of the prophet Micah provide the answer: What does the Lord require – that we do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with God. Doing justice, acting in mercy, creating a society grounded in justice and mercy, are ways God has provided us to act in love toward those whom we’ll never meet. To use a popular phrase, as Christians, we are called to think globally and act locally. We must act in love toward those brothers and sisters right in front of us, and act in ways that are just and merciful to those whom we will never meet, but who just as surely are sister and brother to each of us.
Of course, today is Mother’s Day, founded by Anna Jarvis, who is buried in West Laurel Hill Cemetery in Bala Cynwyd, just outside the city. Anna’s mother, Ann Jarvis, was inspired by Julia Ward Howe’s Mothers Day Proclamation – which is at the end of this post – to work for peace and reconciliation, as she tended to wounded Union and Confederate veterans alike, without regard to which side they had taken in the Civil War. Ann Jarvis died in 1905, and her daughter Anna Jarvis campaigned to establish Mothers’ Day to honor her mother – and by extension, the radical vision of Julia Ward Howe’s proclamation. President Woodrow Wilson established Mothers Day as a national holiday – but it rapidly became a windfall for sellers of flowers, candy, and greeting cards, so much so that Anna Jarvis rapidly became embittered that it so quickly became a Hallmark holiday, so much so that indeed by the end of her life, Anna Jarvis campaigned against it. Anna Jarvis especially detested commercial Mothers Day cards. As she wrote: “A printed card means nothing except that you are too lazy to write to the woman who has done more for you than anyone in the world. And candy! You take a box to Mother—and then eat most of it yourself. A pretty sentiment.”
So on this Mother’s Day, 2012, I would challenge us to look beyond the Hallmark holiday that Mothers’ Day has become, to see the vision that Julia Ward Howe espoused – a vision in which the mothers of one country would refuse to send their sons off to kill the sons of mothers in other countries, a vision in which mothers around the globe would work for peace and justice. May we in the church join Doctors Without Borders, Architects without Borders, and Engineers without Borders, to offer Love Without Borders. I can think of few better ways to honor the original intent of Mothers’ Day – and the commandment of our Lord Jesus Christ to love one another. Amen.
Mother's Day Proclamation (Julia Ward Howe, 1870)
Arise then...women of this day!
Arise, all women who have hearts!
Whether your baptism be of water or of tears!
Say firmly:
"We will not have questions answered by irrelevant agencies,
Our husbands will not come to us, reeking with carnage,
For caresses and applause.
Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn
All that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy and patience.
We, the women of one country,
Will be too tender of those of another country
To allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs."
From the bosom of a devastated Earth a voice goes up with
Our own. It says: "Disarm! Disarm!
The sword of murder is not the balance of justice."
Blood does not wipe out dishonor,
Nor violence indicate possession.
As men have often forsaken the plough and the anvil
At the summons of war,
Let women now leave all that may be left of home
For a great and earnest day of counsel.
Let them meet first, as women, to bewail and commemorate the dead.
Let them solemnly take counsel with each other as to the means
Whereby the great human family can live in peace...
Each bearing after his own time the sacred impress, not of Caesar,
But of God -
In the name of womanhood and humanity, I earnestly ask
That a general congress of women without limit of nationality,
May be appointed and held at someplace deemed most convenient
And the earliest period consistent with its objects,
To promote the alliance of the different nationalities,
The amicable settlement of international questions,
The great and general interests of peace.
"I Am"
(Scriptures: Acts 8:26-40, I John 4:7-21 John 15:1-11)
This past Friday, I made my first run to the beach – maybe my fading bit of sunburn might have been a clue. At my day job, I’d just been through a fairly harrowing succession of critical projects with tight deadlines – preparing next year’s budget, closing the March financial statements in preparation for audit work, and completing our annual 990 filing as a nonprofit with the IRS. So I needed a break. I took the train to Atlantic City….I enjoy train travel, and like the sights as the rail line passes through various communities – Cherry Hill, Lindenwald, Hammonton and so forth, down through Egg Harbor and Absecon, before ending in Atlantic City. In Philly, the weather was far from promising – it was drizzling when I left – and it was misty for a good bit of the day in Atlantic City, though the sun finally broke out of the clouds in the afternoon. I walked a bit on the boardwalk – past all the garish sights and amplified music coming from the casinos – and eventually took a walk to the beach. In stark contrast to what I’ll probably see a month or so from now, the beach was nearly deserted. Every now and then, one or two people would walk along the water’s edge, but otherwise I pretty much had the place to myself – what a strange experience for Atlantic City. I find the sound of the waves relaxing – constantly ebbing and flowing – in and out, in and out - yet seemingly always the same. In my day job I’m often tied up in knots with worry about missing deadlines…..but as I listened to the sound of the waves, back and forth, I could let go of my worries and just rest in God’s love. It was a wonderful – and most welcome - opportunity to spend some time in meditation with God. The contrast between the carnival atmosphere on the boardwalk – and don’t get me wrong; I enjoy the boardwalk as well – but the contrast between that and the quiet ebb and flow of the waves reminded me that, though I often get caught up in the carnival of daily life, to the point where I feel like I’m on a merry-go-round, longing to step off onto solid ground to give my queasy stomach some relief, our loving God, like the ocean, is always there; behind the many voices striving to capture our attention is God’s voice, quiet yet persistent, like the waves flowing toward shore and then receding.
Last week we heard Jesus say “I am the good shepherd”, and this Sunday we hear the words of Jesus, “I am the vine, you are the branches. We are told that we are to abide in the vine, and the vine to abide in us, and that if we abide we will bear fruit, much fruit, fruit that will last. Indeed, Jesus tells us that if we do not bear fruit, we’ll be cut off from the vine – and that if we do bear fruit, we’ll be pruned so that we bear yet more fruit. This reminds us that even those things in our lives that may at one time have been life-giving for us, we may be called upon to set aside, to give up, in order to keep moving forward in response to the call of Jesus.
What does it mean to abide in Jesus, and to have Jesus abide in us? It is to be fed and nourished by Jesus, to have Jesus at the center of our existence. Our lives are always changing, with lots of sound and fury – but if we abide in Jesus, no matter what is going on outside us, within us the Spirit will always be moving, like the constant waves of the ocean.
Our reading from Acts gives us a picture of what it looks like to abide in Jesus and bear fruit. The stories of Philip in the 8th chapter of Acts begin with a severe persecution in Jerusalem forcing many new converts to scatter and move out into other areas. But, what others intended for evil, God used for good; as the disciples were scattered, they brought the Gospel with them and wherever the persecution drove them, they took the opportunity to proclaim the Gospel. Philip first proclaimed the Gospel in Samaria, and then we’re told the Spirit led Philip south to Gaza, along the Mediterranean sea. Philip is led to join the chariot of an Ethiopian eunuch returning from Jerusalem back home. Philip proclaims the word, and as they pass by a pool of water, the eunuch asks, “What is to prevent me from being baptized?” According to the letter of the law as written in Deuteronomy 23:1, because of the man’s status as a eunuch, he cannot be admitted to the assembly of the Lord. But in the life of the Spirit, these distinctions become meaningless. Led by the Spirit, the eunuch commands the chariot to stop and requests baptism, and led by the Spirit, Philip baptizes the eunuch. Philip is then carried away by the Spirit to the next town, and the eunuch returns to Ethiopia, rejoicing. And the words of Jesus as recorded in John’s Gospel came true in this account – as did the words of the prophet Isaiah, who said that eunuchs who keep the Sabbath and choose the things that please God and hold fast God’s covenant, will be given an everlasting name that shall not be cut off. The eunuch, who could not have children because of his status, carried the Gospel back to Ethiopia and bore many spiritual children; just as the church in India traces its beginnings to Thomas, so the church in Ethiopia traces its lineage to this meeting between Philip and the eunuch. Philip was faithful, and the eunuch was faithful, and in the words of Jesus, both their lives bore fruit that lasted to this day.
In the reading from the first letter of John, we are told how we can tell we are abiding in the true vine – and that mark of abiding is love. We’re told that “God is love, and those who abide in love abide in God, and God abides in them.” So many religious leaders, on TV and in churches, use fear to try to scare their followers into the Kingdom of God, and the result is religion that is rigid, tense, full of fear. But John writes that perfect love casts out fear – and that, indeed, if our religion is based in fear, God’s love in us is not fully mature, is not complete. We’re also told that this perfect love of God cannot exist side-by-side with hatred of God’s people.
In the Scriptures of the past two weeks and in our hymns today, we consider many of Jesus’ “I am” statements: I am the good shepherd, I am the true vine, and, as we go to communion, we’ll sing “I am the bread of life”. Just before we leave, we’ll sing the hymn “I am the light of the world”, reminding us that as we leave we are to carry that light with us, as Philip did, and sharing that light with others. The God we know in Jesus Christ is so transcendent, so beyond us, so unknowable, that no single comparison can adequately describe his love and justice and mercy. And yet because God is love, he chose to make himself known to us in Jesus. My time at the beach on Friday reminds me that, just as a fish is surrounded the ocean, immersed in it, cannot exist without it, in the same way as we abide in Christ we are surrounded and immersed and filled with God’s love, wider and deeper than the ocean. As Christians we cannot live apart from that love any more than a fish can live long outside water, or a branch can live apart from the vine. Our joys, our sorrows, will come and go, but like the ocean, God just….is….always there, always in motion, always creating and recreating, always reclaiming and redeeming.
“God is love, and those who abide in love abide in God, and God abides in them….There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear; for fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not reached perfection in love. We love because he first loved us.” May we abide in this perfect love of God, and because we abide, may this congregation, Emanuel Church, as small as we are, bear fruit that lasts for many generations. Amen.
This past Friday, I made my first run to the beach – maybe my fading bit of sunburn might have been a clue. At my day job, I’d just been through a fairly harrowing succession of critical projects with tight deadlines – preparing next year’s budget, closing the March financial statements in preparation for audit work, and completing our annual 990 filing as a nonprofit with the IRS. So I needed a break. I took the train to Atlantic City….I enjoy train travel, and like the sights as the rail line passes through various communities – Cherry Hill, Lindenwald, Hammonton and so forth, down through Egg Harbor and Absecon, before ending in Atlantic City. In Philly, the weather was far from promising – it was drizzling when I left – and it was misty for a good bit of the day in Atlantic City, though the sun finally broke out of the clouds in the afternoon. I walked a bit on the boardwalk – past all the garish sights and amplified music coming from the casinos – and eventually took a walk to the beach. In stark contrast to what I’ll probably see a month or so from now, the beach was nearly deserted. Every now and then, one or two people would walk along the water’s edge, but otherwise I pretty much had the place to myself – what a strange experience for Atlantic City. I find the sound of the waves relaxing – constantly ebbing and flowing – in and out, in and out - yet seemingly always the same. In my day job I’m often tied up in knots with worry about missing deadlines…..but as I listened to the sound of the waves, back and forth, I could let go of my worries and just rest in God’s love. It was a wonderful – and most welcome - opportunity to spend some time in meditation with God. The contrast between the carnival atmosphere on the boardwalk – and don’t get me wrong; I enjoy the boardwalk as well – but the contrast between that and the quiet ebb and flow of the waves reminded me that, though I often get caught up in the carnival of daily life, to the point where I feel like I’m on a merry-go-round, longing to step off onto solid ground to give my queasy stomach some relief, our loving God, like the ocean, is always there; behind the many voices striving to capture our attention is God’s voice, quiet yet persistent, like the waves flowing toward shore and then receding.
Last week we heard Jesus say “I am the good shepherd”, and this Sunday we hear the words of Jesus, “I am the vine, you are the branches. We are told that we are to abide in the vine, and the vine to abide in us, and that if we abide we will bear fruit, much fruit, fruit that will last. Indeed, Jesus tells us that if we do not bear fruit, we’ll be cut off from the vine – and that if we do bear fruit, we’ll be pruned so that we bear yet more fruit. This reminds us that even those things in our lives that may at one time have been life-giving for us, we may be called upon to set aside, to give up, in order to keep moving forward in response to the call of Jesus.
What does it mean to abide in Jesus, and to have Jesus abide in us? It is to be fed and nourished by Jesus, to have Jesus at the center of our existence. Our lives are always changing, with lots of sound and fury – but if we abide in Jesus, no matter what is going on outside us, within us the Spirit will always be moving, like the constant waves of the ocean.
Our reading from Acts gives us a picture of what it looks like to abide in Jesus and bear fruit. The stories of Philip in the 8th chapter of Acts begin with a severe persecution in Jerusalem forcing many new converts to scatter and move out into other areas. But, what others intended for evil, God used for good; as the disciples were scattered, they brought the Gospel with them and wherever the persecution drove them, they took the opportunity to proclaim the Gospel. Philip first proclaimed the Gospel in Samaria, and then we’re told the Spirit led Philip south to Gaza, along the Mediterranean sea. Philip is led to join the chariot of an Ethiopian eunuch returning from Jerusalem back home. Philip proclaims the word, and as they pass by a pool of water, the eunuch asks, “What is to prevent me from being baptized?” According to the letter of the law as written in Deuteronomy 23:1, because of the man’s status as a eunuch, he cannot be admitted to the assembly of the Lord. But in the life of the Spirit, these distinctions become meaningless. Led by the Spirit, the eunuch commands the chariot to stop and requests baptism, and led by the Spirit, Philip baptizes the eunuch. Philip is then carried away by the Spirit to the next town, and the eunuch returns to Ethiopia, rejoicing. And the words of Jesus as recorded in John’s Gospel came true in this account – as did the words of the prophet Isaiah, who said that eunuchs who keep the Sabbath and choose the things that please God and hold fast God’s covenant, will be given an everlasting name that shall not be cut off. The eunuch, who could not have children because of his status, carried the Gospel back to Ethiopia and bore many spiritual children; just as the church in India traces its beginnings to Thomas, so the church in Ethiopia traces its lineage to this meeting between Philip and the eunuch. Philip was faithful, and the eunuch was faithful, and in the words of Jesus, both their lives bore fruit that lasted to this day.
In the reading from the first letter of John, we are told how we can tell we are abiding in the true vine – and that mark of abiding is love. We’re told that “God is love, and those who abide in love abide in God, and God abides in them.” So many religious leaders, on TV and in churches, use fear to try to scare their followers into the Kingdom of God, and the result is religion that is rigid, tense, full of fear. But John writes that perfect love casts out fear – and that, indeed, if our religion is based in fear, God’s love in us is not fully mature, is not complete. We’re also told that this perfect love of God cannot exist side-by-side with hatred of God’s people.
In the Scriptures of the past two weeks and in our hymns today, we consider many of Jesus’ “I am” statements: I am the good shepherd, I am the true vine, and, as we go to communion, we’ll sing “I am the bread of life”. Just before we leave, we’ll sing the hymn “I am the light of the world”, reminding us that as we leave we are to carry that light with us, as Philip did, and sharing that light with others. The God we know in Jesus Christ is so transcendent, so beyond us, so unknowable, that no single comparison can adequately describe his love and justice and mercy. And yet because God is love, he chose to make himself known to us in Jesus. My time at the beach on Friday reminds me that, just as a fish is surrounded the ocean, immersed in it, cannot exist without it, in the same way as we abide in Christ we are surrounded and immersed and filled with God’s love, wider and deeper than the ocean. As Christians we cannot live apart from that love any more than a fish can live long outside water, or a branch can live apart from the vine. Our joys, our sorrows, will come and go, but like the ocean, God just….is….always there, always in motion, always creating and recreating, always reclaiming and redeeming.
“God is love, and those who abide in love abide in God, and God abides in them….There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear; for fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not reached perfection in love. We love because he first loved us.” May we abide in this perfect love of God, and because we abide, may this congregation, Emanuel Church, as small as we are, bear fruit that lasts for many generations. Amen.
The Good Shepherd
(Scriptures: Acts 4:1-12 Psalm 23, I John 3:14-24 John 10:1-18)
Today’s reading from John’s Gospel gives us one of the most beloved images from Scripture – Jesus as the Good Shepherd. Among our stained glass windows is a window dedicated to long-ago former Pastor Forster, showing Jesus as the Good Shepherd. The image is widespread within the church: pastors, who are called to serve Jesus the Good Shepherd, think of their congregation as their flock. Among pastors, there are even bits of humor associated with the image: I remember a former pastor who had a coffee cup with a picture of a sheep, which carried the phrase “get your sheep together.” (As disorganized as I was last Sunday, I could have used some help getting my sheep together – or getting my own act together, at least.) As is often true, the challenge of lifting up these beloved images is that they’ve been worn out from overuse, have been domesticated to the point where we think they have nothing new to tell us. So with such a familiar passage of Scripture, I’d challenge each of us to listen carefully, to see if God may have something new to say to us, even through such familiar words and timeworn images.
In today’s reading from John’s Gospel – as is generally true in reading Scripture – context is crucial. Today’s reading from the 10th chapter of John’s Gospel immediate follows the story in the 9th chapter of John’s Gospel in which Jesus had just healed a man who had been blind from birth. The man, of course, was overjoyed to receive his sight, and you’d think that everyone who knew him would share in his joy. And you’d be wrong. The religious authorities, who saw Jesus as a threat, interrogated the man closely and even frightened the man’s parents with their many questions. Ultimately the man, who had been given his sight, was driven away by the religious authorities. And Jesus responded by commenting that it was religious authorities, not the healed man, who were truly blind.
Unlike the other Gospels, in which Jesus is endlessly cautioning people not to tell others of his miracles, in John’s Gospel, it sometimes seems that Jesus hardly ever stops talking about himself. Todays’ reading is no exception. In John’s Gospel, Jesus’ works and healings are called signs – they are not just random good deeds, not just random acts of kindness, but carefully chosen ways in which to understand who Jesus is. So in John’s Gospel, Jesus talks about himself, not only by his many “I am” statements - for example, today’s statement “I am the good shepherd” – but by his signs – sort of like Jesus’ version of show and tell - signs which first show us and then tell us who Jesus is.
John’s Gospel has been called “the gospel of love” – it’s often recommended reading for new Christians - but the love within John’s Gospel is a particular kind of love, a kind of solidarity or mutually supportive love among the members of a persecuted faith community, which provides strength to deal with opposition and persecution from outside. John’s Gospel has a very strong dynamic of insiders and outsiders, those who are inside the beloved community of Jesus’ followers, and those outsiders who are persecuting the community. This dynamic of “us and them”, “insiders vs outsiders” surfaces strongly in today’s Gospel reading. It is after Jesus watches the formerly blind, now healed man being driven outside the synagogue community that he begins speaking of himself as the Good Shepherd, contrasting himself, who lays himself down for the sheep, with the bad shepherds who drive sheep away from the community and leave them to their own devices. The whole incident really provides quite a sharp commentary on the religious establishment of his day. Consider that the man had been perfectly acceptable to the religious leaders when he had been blind and dependent on the kindness of others. It was only after the man received his sight, only after he was able to act for himself, only after he began to challenge the religious leaders, that he was thrown out of the synagogue. This incident acts out Jesus’ description of the religious establishment as blind guides leading the blind. Since the man was no longer blind and no longer receptive to the blind guidance of the religious establishment, he was driven out – only to be welcomed into Jesus’ community of those granted the gift of spiritual insight.
So Jesus and his followers, who have in effect been kicked to the curb by the religious community in which they were raised, respond by forming an alternative religious community. Jesus, rejected by the leaders of the Temple religious community, becomes the shepherd of an alternative religious community. As the sheep of a given flock know the voice of the shepherd, so the mark of inclusion in the alternative community formed by Jesus is the ability to hear the voice of Jesus, the Good Shepherd. The formerly blind man who received his sight was able to hear that voice. The religious establishment, for the most part, was not.
How about us? Remember that a mark of inclusion in the community formed by Jesus is the ability to distinguish the voice of the shepherd. It’s at least as true in our day as it was when Jesus spoke the words – not every voice we hear speaking in God’s name is the voice of the Good Shepherd. There are the hirelings, those only in the pastorate for a paycheck, who will cut and run at the first sign of trouble. And there are the thieves and robbers, who seek to misuse the pastoral office and the good faith of the congregation for their own benefit. And having heard the voice of the Good Shepherd, a mark of inclusion in the beloved community is the ability, not only to hear, but to respond. In the words of a hymn popular in the Roman Catholic church, adapted from Psalm 95, “if today you hear his voice, harden not your hearts.”
The mark of inclusion in the faith community of Jesus is the ability to hear and respond to the voice of Jesus. Unfortunately, just as was true in Jesus’ day, many religious leaders of our day want to impose other litmus tests for inclusion in the church: Do you believe the right creed? Do you have the correct marital status and family configuration? Do you have the right kind of friends? Listen to the right kind of music? Dress the right way? Support the right political causes? But those who would impose these additional tests ignore the words of Jesus, when he says, “I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. So there will be one flock, one shepherd.” Remember the mistake made by those who excluded the early Christians from the synagogues – may we learn from this mistake, so that we don’t repeat it. We must never presume to exclude those whom Jesus himself invites, those who respond to the voice of the Good Shepherd.
Take another look at our Good Shepherd stained glass window. Let it remind each of us who it is who calls us, and whom it is that we are to obey. Where the Good Shepherd leads, may Emanuel Church follow. Amen.
Today’s reading from John’s Gospel gives us one of the most beloved images from Scripture – Jesus as the Good Shepherd. Among our stained glass windows is a window dedicated to long-ago former Pastor Forster, showing Jesus as the Good Shepherd. The image is widespread within the church: pastors, who are called to serve Jesus the Good Shepherd, think of their congregation as their flock. Among pastors, there are even bits of humor associated with the image: I remember a former pastor who had a coffee cup with a picture of a sheep, which carried the phrase “get your sheep together.” (As disorganized as I was last Sunday, I could have used some help getting my sheep together – or getting my own act together, at least.) As is often true, the challenge of lifting up these beloved images is that they’ve been worn out from overuse, have been domesticated to the point where we think they have nothing new to tell us. So with such a familiar passage of Scripture, I’d challenge each of us to listen carefully, to see if God may have something new to say to us, even through such familiar words and timeworn images.
In today’s reading from John’s Gospel – as is generally true in reading Scripture – context is crucial. Today’s reading from the 10th chapter of John’s Gospel immediate follows the story in the 9th chapter of John’s Gospel in which Jesus had just healed a man who had been blind from birth. The man, of course, was overjoyed to receive his sight, and you’d think that everyone who knew him would share in his joy. And you’d be wrong. The religious authorities, who saw Jesus as a threat, interrogated the man closely and even frightened the man’s parents with their many questions. Ultimately the man, who had been given his sight, was driven away by the religious authorities. And Jesus responded by commenting that it was religious authorities, not the healed man, who were truly blind.
Unlike the other Gospels, in which Jesus is endlessly cautioning people not to tell others of his miracles, in John’s Gospel, it sometimes seems that Jesus hardly ever stops talking about himself. Todays’ reading is no exception. In John’s Gospel, Jesus’ works and healings are called signs – they are not just random good deeds, not just random acts of kindness, but carefully chosen ways in which to understand who Jesus is. So in John’s Gospel, Jesus talks about himself, not only by his many “I am” statements - for example, today’s statement “I am the good shepherd” – but by his signs – sort of like Jesus’ version of show and tell - signs which first show us and then tell us who Jesus is.
John’s Gospel has been called “the gospel of love” – it’s often recommended reading for new Christians - but the love within John’s Gospel is a particular kind of love, a kind of solidarity or mutually supportive love among the members of a persecuted faith community, which provides strength to deal with opposition and persecution from outside. John’s Gospel has a very strong dynamic of insiders and outsiders, those who are inside the beloved community of Jesus’ followers, and those outsiders who are persecuting the community. This dynamic of “us and them”, “insiders vs outsiders” surfaces strongly in today’s Gospel reading. It is after Jesus watches the formerly blind, now healed man being driven outside the synagogue community that he begins speaking of himself as the Good Shepherd, contrasting himself, who lays himself down for the sheep, with the bad shepherds who drive sheep away from the community and leave them to their own devices. The whole incident really provides quite a sharp commentary on the religious establishment of his day. Consider that the man had been perfectly acceptable to the religious leaders when he had been blind and dependent on the kindness of others. It was only after the man received his sight, only after he was able to act for himself, only after he began to challenge the religious leaders, that he was thrown out of the synagogue. This incident acts out Jesus’ description of the religious establishment as blind guides leading the blind. Since the man was no longer blind and no longer receptive to the blind guidance of the religious establishment, he was driven out – only to be welcomed into Jesus’ community of those granted the gift of spiritual insight.
So Jesus and his followers, who have in effect been kicked to the curb by the religious community in which they were raised, respond by forming an alternative religious community. Jesus, rejected by the leaders of the Temple religious community, becomes the shepherd of an alternative religious community. As the sheep of a given flock know the voice of the shepherd, so the mark of inclusion in the alternative community formed by Jesus is the ability to hear the voice of Jesus, the Good Shepherd. The formerly blind man who received his sight was able to hear that voice. The religious establishment, for the most part, was not.
How about us? Remember that a mark of inclusion in the community formed by Jesus is the ability to distinguish the voice of the shepherd. It’s at least as true in our day as it was when Jesus spoke the words – not every voice we hear speaking in God’s name is the voice of the Good Shepherd. There are the hirelings, those only in the pastorate for a paycheck, who will cut and run at the first sign of trouble. And there are the thieves and robbers, who seek to misuse the pastoral office and the good faith of the congregation for their own benefit. And having heard the voice of the Good Shepherd, a mark of inclusion in the beloved community is the ability, not only to hear, but to respond. In the words of a hymn popular in the Roman Catholic church, adapted from Psalm 95, “if today you hear his voice, harden not your hearts.”
The mark of inclusion in the faith community of Jesus is the ability to hear and respond to the voice of Jesus. Unfortunately, just as was true in Jesus’ day, many religious leaders of our day want to impose other litmus tests for inclusion in the church: Do you believe the right creed? Do you have the correct marital status and family configuration? Do you have the right kind of friends? Listen to the right kind of music? Dress the right way? Support the right political causes? But those who would impose these additional tests ignore the words of Jesus, when he says, “I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. So there will be one flock, one shepherd.” Remember the mistake made by those who excluded the early Christians from the synagogues – may we learn from this mistake, so that we don’t repeat it. We must never presume to exclude those whom Jesus himself invites, those who respond to the voice of the Good Shepherd.
Take another look at our Good Shepherd stained glass window. Let it remind each of us who it is who calls us, and whom it is that we are to obey. Where the Good Shepherd leads, may Emanuel Church follow. Amen.
Hearts Ablaze!
(Scriptures: Acts 3:1-26, I John 3:1-7, Luke 24:13-48)
The 1950 movie Roshamon, by famed film maker Akira Kurosawa, tells the same story – the assault of a bandit on the wife of a samarai and the death of the samarai – from the viewpoint of several characters – among them, the bandit, the wife, and a woodcutter who had witnessed the events. As one might expect, while the stories have some points in common, they are all mutually contradictory. The viewer is left to wonder at how a single sequence of events can be described in such contrasting ways.
We have a sort of a Roshamon today in our reading from Luke’s Gospel. Two followers of Jesus are leaving the city of Jerusalem to return to Emmaus. Encountering a stranger on the road, who seems strangely unaware of the events that had brought the pair to despair, the travelers tell the stranger about Jesus of Nazareth, a prophet mighty in word and deed whom they had hoped would liberate Israel, but who was condemned to death by the Temple religious establishment. The travelers mention – oh, by the way, some women were telling some silly story about seeing angels who said Jesus was alive. But the travelers dismiss the women’s tale, and their story ends on a note of hopelessness.
And then the stranger – who we of course know is Jesus – tells the same story back to them. The same story, but with a very different ending. Yes, the Messiah was to suffer – but suffering was not the end of the story. The stranger’s story had much in common with that of the travelers, but, informed by Scripture, was a story, not of hopelessness, but of triumph. Arriving at their home village, they want to hear more, and invite the stranger to join them for dinner. As the stranger took, blessed, and broke the bread, suddenly the travelers knew who had been the stranger in their midst.
The travelers returned the seven mile trip to Jerusalem and told those gathered there what they had experienced. And as they were talking, Jesus himself appeared. Their first reaction was terror – they thought they were seeing a ghost – but again Jesus interpreted the events in a different way, turning their ghost story into a reunion story.
In our reading from Acts, Peter and John, newly empowered at Pentecost by the Holy Spirit, encountered a beggar and changed his story from that of dependency to dancing. Accosted by the beggar asking for alms, Peter responds, “Silver and gold I have none, but what I have I give you – in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, get up and walk. Formerly lame, now he was leaping for joy.
So what’s your story? Perhaps more importantly, who will write your story? The media, the culture, have written scripts for us to follow. There’s the “Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous” script, for us to watch on TV to see how happy money supposedly makes a lucky few people. For those of more moderate means there’s the “life in the suburbs” script of a McMansion and an expensive car. Advertisers have lovely scripts, that if you buy their product, friends and fun will surround you all your days. For many of us, there’s the Horatio Alger “pull yourself up by your bootstraps” script – that in this day of economic distress doesn’t seem to be working all that well. For people of color and people who grow up in disadvantaged homes, there’s a script as well, a script of hopelessness – drop out of high school before graduating, make some fast money selling drugs, get arrested, and spend your days hanging on the corner because nobody wants to hire somebody with a prison record. These stories are pre-written – all we have to do is learn the lines our society teaches us, and we’ll fit right in.
Perhaps you, like I, are not crazy about any of these stories. Jesus has a much better story – a story of his comforting presence in times of trouble, a story of sorrow only being for a night, but joy coming in the morning. Stories of alienation being overcome by reconciliation. Stories of crucifixion followed by resurrection. Where our society tries to put a period, God places a comma – because ultimately God is the author of the only story that matters, and it’s a story that God is still writing – because God is still speaking.
The travelers on the road to Emmaus didn’t recognize Jesus during all that seven miles of walking from Jerusalem to Emmaus. We’re told that their eyes were prevented from recognizing him. Perhaps we could say that their grief affected their vision. No doubt as they walked and talked on the road to Emmaus they thought “where was God” – when Jesus was walking right beside them, unknown to them. It was only in retrospect, looking back, that they could see how their hearts were ablaze, burning within them – as one translation puts it, “strangely warmed” – during their encounter with the stranger on the Emmaus road. As we emerge from times of struggle, it may only be in retrospect that we can recognize those times and places in which Christ had been with us, had sustained us.
Many among us – perhaps all of us in various ways – have difficult stories to tell – stories of grief, of hardship, of abuse, of injustice. Some of these stories we’ve shared around the table during coffee hour. This congregation, and those who are members of our congregation, have been through a lot. As Christians, though, it’s important that, in the words of the old radio commentator Paul Harvey, we remember the rest of the story – that we did not and do not go through these things alone, that Christ was and is with us, that nothing – neither height or depth nor anything else in all creation – can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus. And because of our experience of having experienced God’s presence in the struggle, our stories of hardship can become testimonies of faith, can become a source of strength and hope for others.
I’ll close with the words of an old gospel hymn – and here at Emanuel church, may we be able to make these words part of our story:
“By and by, when the morning comes
When the saints of God are gathered home
We’ll tell the story how we’ve overcome
And we’ll understand it better by and by.”
May it be so with us. Amen.
The 1950 movie Roshamon, by famed film maker Akira Kurosawa, tells the same story – the assault of a bandit on the wife of a samarai and the death of the samarai – from the viewpoint of several characters – among them, the bandit, the wife, and a woodcutter who had witnessed the events. As one might expect, while the stories have some points in common, they are all mutually contradictory. The viewer is left to wonder at how a single sequence of events can be described in such contrasting ways.
We have a sort of a Roshamon today in our reading from Luke’s Gospel. Two followers of Jesus are leaving the city of Jerusalem to return to Emmaus. Encountering a stranger on the road, who seems strangely unaware of the events that had brought the pair to despair, the travelers tell the stranger about Jesus of Nazareth, a prophet mighty in word and deed whom they had hoped would liberate Israel, but who was condemned to death by the Temple religious establishment. The travelers mention – oh, by the way, some women were telling some silly story about seeing angels who said Jesus was alive. But the travelers dismiss the women’s tale, and their story ends on a note of hopelessness.
And then the stranger – who we of course know is Jesus – tells the same story back to them. The same story, but with a very different ending. Yes, the Messiah was to suffer – but suffering was not the end of the story. The stranger’s story had much in common with that of the travelers, but, informed by Scripture, was a story, not of hopelessness, but of triumph. Arriving at their home village, they want to hear more, and invite the stranger to join them for dinner. As the stranger took, blessed, and broke the bread, suddenly the travelers knew who had been the stranger in their midst.
The travelers returned the seven mile trip to Jerusalem and told those gathered there what they had experienced. And as they were talking, Jesus himself appeared. Their first reaction was terror – they thought they were seeing a ghost – but again Jesus interpreted the events in a different way, turning their ghost story into a reunion story.
In our reading from Acts, Peter and John, newly empowered at Pentecost by the Holy Spirit, encountered a beggar and changed his story from that of dependency to dancing. Accosted by the beggar asking for alms, Peter responds, “Silver and gold I have none, but what I have I give you – in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, get up and walk. Formerly lame, now he was leaping for joy.
So what’s your story? Perhaps more importantly, who will write your story? The media, the culture, have written scripts for us to follow. There’s the “Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous” script, for us to watch on TV to see how happy money supposedly makes a lucky few people. For those of more moderate means there’s the “life in the suburbs” script of a McMansion and an expensive car. Advertisers have lovely scripts, that if you buy their product, friends and fun will surround you all your days. For many of us, there’s the Horatio Alger “pull yourself up by your bootstraps” script – that in this day of economic distress doesn’t seem to be working all that well. For people of color and people who grow up in disadvantaged homes, there’s a script as well, a script of hopelessness – drop out of high school before graduating, make some fast money selling drugs, get arrested, and spend your days hanging on the corner because nobody wants to hire somebody with a prison record. These stories are pre-written – all we have to do is learn the lines our society teaches us, and we’ll fit right in.
Perhaps you, like I, are not crazy about any of these stories. Jesus has a much better story – a story of his comforting presence in times of trouble, a story of sorrow only being for a night, but joy coming in the morning. Stories of alienation being overcome by reconciliation. Stories of crucifixion followed by resurrection. Where our society tries to put a period, God places a comma – because ultimately God is the author of the only story that matters, and it’s a story that God is still writing – because God is still speaking.
The travelers on the road to Emmaus didn’t recognize Jesus during all that seven miles of walking from Jerusalem to Emmaus. We’re told that their eyes were prevented from recognizing him. Perhaps we could say that their grief affected their vision. No doubt as they walked and talked on the road to Emmaus they thought “where was God” – when Jesus was walking right beside them, unknown to them. It was only in retrospect, looking back, that they could see how their hearts were ablaze, burning within them – as one translation puts it, “strangely warmed” – during their encounter with the stranger on the Emmaus road. As we emerge from times of struggle, it may only be in retrospect that we can recognize those times and places in which Christ had been with us, had sustained us.
Many among us – perhaps all of us in various ways – have difficult stories to tell – stories of grief, of hardship, of abuse, of injustice. Some of these stories we’ve shared around the table during coffee hour. This congregation, and those who are members of our congregation, have been through a lot. As Christians, though, it’s important that, in the words of the old radio commentator Paul Harvey, we remember the rest of the story – that we did not and do not go through these things alone, that Christ was and is with us, that nothing – neither height or depth nor anything else in all creation – can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus. And because of our experience of having experienced God’s presence in the struggle, our stories of hardship can become testimonies of faith, can become a source of strength and hope for others.
I’ll close with the words of an old gospel hymn – and here at Emanuel church, may we be able to make these words part of our story:
“By and by, when the morning comes
When the saints of God are gathered home
We’ll tell the story how we’ve overcome
And we’ll understand it better by and by.”
May it be so with us. Amen.
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