2 Easter Yr B April 11 2021

2 Easter Yr B April 11 2021

Acts 4:32-35, 1 John 1:1-2:2, John 20:19-31, Psalm 133

 

Ah, Thomas, the one who has gotten the bad rap all these years. What if we understood Thomas as a believer, rather than a doubter? What if we regard Thomas as one who must have his own experience of the risen Jesus, just like all the other disciples? Thomas, who asks Jesus for what he wants, and to whom Jesus gives what Thomas needs. 

 

Thomas hears Jesus’ voice and proclaims, “My Lord and my God.” Thomas stands in for all of us who will not see Jesus but are invited to believe or encouraged to continue to believe. Thomas must have his own experience of the risen Jesus; Thomas must encounter Jesus on his own terms, so that we, who will not see Jesus, may encounter Jesus ourselves, and believe.

 

This story that we read today, about Thomas and other followers of Jesus, is the third in a series of encounters with Jesus. The first we read on Easter morning, when Mary came to the tomb in the midst of her grief, in the midst of our grief, and wept. Jesus called her name as he calls all our names and she proclaimed, “I have seen the Lord”. The second and third are these stories today, Jesus appears to his followers and says, “Peace be with you.” Thomas misses all this excitement, so Jesus shows up the next time with the same words, “Peace be with you.” Three encounters with Jesus, three proclamations of belief, all so that we may believe as well. 

 

You see, that’s what the gospel writer wants for us. John tells these stories so that we may hear Jesus call us, and we may believe and follow. 

 

Mary hears Jesus call her name, Jesus calls to Thomas. Earlier in John’s story Jesus calls to the blind man and to Lazarus. Jesus even calls all the sheep by name. I know something about what that’s like. On hot summer nights, when every kid in the entire neighborhood was out playing kick the can, my mom would yell out the back door, Kathy! and I’d come running. I heard my mother’s voice and recognized that I wanted to come running into her wide and wonderful and protective embrace. Jesus is like that in this passage we have from John. Jesus calls our names, and we come a runnin.

 

Hear what John is saying to us? Throughout the fourth gospel we hear Jesus call our name, we hear Jesus call to the blind man, we hear Jesus call Lazarus out of the tomb, we hear Jesus call the sheep, we hear Jesus call Mary, and Thomas, and you, and me. We hear Jesus call us into this amazing and abundant love. We hear Jesus call us into an encounter that changes our lives. We hear Jesus call us from fear into joy.

 

My mom held the door open wide for me to come running in. Jesus is not just holding the door open for us, but Jesus is the door through which we find love and life. Listen to these words, “the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked, Jesus came and stood among them. Jesus don’t need no door, Jesus is the door, Jesus is the gate through which the sheep move, Jesus wants to have this relationship, wants us to walk through this door, so that we may believe and follow.

 

Because that’s it, right? This whole experience we have just had, this Holy Week, this suffering and death and resurrection, is all about this relationship, this encounter with Jesus, so that we may believe and follow. So that we may believe, not in some sort of magic, or some sort of rules and regulations, but so that we may believe in the love that wins, the love that knows no bounds, the love born from grief and trauma, the love that gives itself for us, the love that makes us whole.

 

And into this relationship, this knowing that touches us in our broken hearts, we run. We are followers of Jesus, we are part of the Jesus movement. This is what the gospel writer John wants for us, to encounter Jesus, to hear Jesus call our names, and to be in relationship with Jesus and held in those arms that heal. And then, follow. In doing so we help to change the world from our nightmare to God’s dream.

 

In these stories the disciples are beginning to comprehend the Incarnation, God who walks this way with us, and they are ready to change the world, even though they don’t know it yet. The energy of God, the Holy Spirit, has been breathed into them.

 

How do you hear Jesus call your name? How does Jesus open the door of your heart and heal it? Because that’s what this is about. It’s not about being a perfect disciple. None of Jesus followers were perfect disciples. Peter, the one who denied Jesus, Judas, the one who betrayed Jesus, Thomas, the one who wants to feel and touch Jesus, Mary, the one who anoints Jesus with the very costly perfume. All of the people who populate these stories are people just like us, people who have at times turned our backs on those who love us, people who at times have succumbed to our addictions and the things that control us. We are people who have been broken by the world’s will and ways. We are the people who are not perfect, and who are loved perfectly by the one who is the door to wholeness and healing.

 

We hear Jesus call our name when we remember who we are. We hear Jesus call our name in the voice of one who says, I know who you are, I know you have been pulled apart, and I love you anyway. We hear the breath of God blow into our hearts and souls; Peace be with you.

 

It is in being put back together again that belief grows. Not in perfection, or having it all together, or even in having it all. Jesus takes on our imperfection, the fragments of our lives, and puts us back together again, rearranges our dust so that we may be whole and healed. And it is possible for us to love again. It is possible for us to love our neighbor.

 

And, like the followers in our story today, the followers who were afraid, confused, disoriented, and sad at losing their friend, we followers gather together in the confidence that the breath of God inspires us, that in the prayers, and the song, in the bread and the wine, Jesus is in our midst. And like those first followers, we too have to leave that room and help change the world from this nightmare to God’s dream. Love God, love one another, show it! Amen.

Feast of the Holy Cross, transferred, Sept 17, 2017

Feast of the Holy Cross, transferred, Sept 17, 2017 Audio

From the moment John opens his story, in the first few lines of this fourth gospel, John proclaims, “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it… The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world.” John’s first words call upon the creation story in Genesis, they imagine with us the incarnation, the Word becomes flesh for the sake of the world God loves, and helps us to cast our gaze to crucifixion, resurrection, and ascension.

The passage from John before us today follows Jesus’ last teaching. It follows Mary’s anointing Jesus’ feet, and Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem, the place of his death. The path John shows us is a path of love and light, light that enlightens, light that emboldens, light that illuminates all people everywhere. And the scene before us today follows this request of the Greeks, “Sir, we wish to see Jesus.” We are joined on this journey together with those who wish to see Jesus.

Jesus, God in the flesh, is the Light that enlightens the world. Even through this horrible death on a cross, God’s love extends and includes all of creation, you and me. You’d think John and Martin Luther King Jr. broke bread together, as Martin Luther King Jr. had said, “Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.”

What is it we see? What does this Light that is God’s love in the world, reveal to us? The scene and the activity point us forward to Jesus’ death, death that looks to the world as failure and loss, but the means of Jesus’ death, and the hope of exaltation, resurrection and ascension is illuminated as well. The words announce to us that God’s love in the flesh, Jesus, is the Light, and the Light will never go out. We also learn that the Light is meant for everyone, not just some, not just the ones in the inner circle, surely not just the rich and powerful, not just the cool kids, but everyone. And John is grappling with a question of belief, or maybe disbelief. John wonders why some who have encountered Jesus believe that he is God in the flesh, God’s love made real, and some do not. John wonders how disbelief is even possible. For John, responding to the light, the revelation, the appearance of God in the flesh, is belief.

So when wondering about John’s question, why do some, many, most, in fact, not believe, the answer is may be somewhere in the experience of the Jews of Jesus’ circle, belief in Jesus put them out of the synagogue, out on the margins. So how do you fashion your life around that which looks like loss and defeat?

Death on a cross looks like a loss. In any definition of winning today, death, especially death on a cross, looks like loss, defeat, it sure doesn’t look like victory. Victory is winning. Winning is good, that’s what we hear from the one who holds the highest office in our country, and others who hold on tightly to power. It’s all about the win, and winning is worth any collateral damage it takes to get there. Dying on a cross sure isn’t winning. Telling the truth, and then dying on a cross, sure isn’t winning. It’s as true for us as it was for those who heard Jesus, who saw the wonders Jesus has done. Putting your faith in a guy who gets put to death on a cross, puts you on the margins, it puts you out of the winners circle. And it would have put you out of the synagogue, and life outside of the synagogue, in the world of 1^st century Mediterranean culture for a Jew, would have been worse than death.

If you were Jesus’ friend, Jesus’ follower, and you witnessed Jesus’ death on that cross, how would you react? Protests, riots, calls for retribution. We see that all the time, and we call it righteous outrage. How could this death possibly happen? This person was innocent, we would have hoped for a far different outcome. Something that didn’t look like, couldn’t possibly be, death, on a cross.

And then there’s Judas. Judas, who very soon betrays Jesus into the hands of the authorities. Judas, who was a trusted friend. Judas, who just couldn’t believe how Jesus could possibly be Messiah, the anointed one. He didn’t act like the Messiah, he consorted with sinners, with women, with unclean outsiders. Judas, who was one of the inner circle, who loved Jesus, and whom Jesus loved, who had spent his sleeping and waking hours with Jesus, in the middle of a garden, handed him over. The sadness, the grief, in this act of betrayal is almost too much to bear.

It gets mighty dark, and still, the Light doesn’t go out, and still, the love that is God’s own body, does not lash out in hate.

John tells us that the victory here is of a whole different sort. It was all about his being lifted up. That’s how God, the true God, the God of astonishing, generous love, would be glorified. Swords or bullets don’t glorify the creator-God, Love does. Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.

Everytime I visit these verses I come away feeling somewhat battered, bruised, and I have to take a break, sit in the quiet, light a candle, and wait. I have to wait for the light to dawn on me, again. And when it does, and it will, I am emboldened to do what Jesus calls me to do, to do what this relationship with Jesus, with God in the flesh, calls me to do, and that is to risk love again. We are called by this dying and rising, we are called by this light that does not go out, we are called by this love that does not seek revenge, retribution, or power, to love.

That is what is happening here. That is where our belief, our faith, lives. In God in the flesh, love made real. When our own faith wanes, when our own disbelief takes hold, we find hope in love in the flesh, love made real. When we pray for our loved ones that they may find the kind of absolute and unconditional love that God has for us, God’s children, and that is made real in the love poured out on the cross, we can find it here. As Jesus says to his mother as she stands at the foot of the cross, “woman, here is your son,” so we too are part of the family that loves and cares for one another. Jesus shows us how that is done through the signs and wonders of this gospel. Jesus breaks bread and feeds thousands, so that all may be fed, all may be healed.

Today, the light shines brightly and we believe in Jesus, God in the flesh, when we see these signs in action, and when we participate in the goodness. But it’s not always that way. There are days, weeks, months, maybe years of disbelief. Especially when it feels like God is distant, especially when the hurt is palpable, especially when the wind blows, the waters rise, and the fires rage. The modern day prophet, Fred Rogers, calls us to look for the helpers. In the midst of tragedy, in the midst of devastation, look for those who run in to help. Be those who run in to help, there is always enough so no one goes hungry or thirsty. Not only our friends and neighbors in Texas and Florida and Montana, but those right here on our very streets, men and women who are our neighbors.

This is the truth of the cross, the truth of love hanging on the cross, the truth that the light will not be put out, the truth that love wins.

May the light shine in our lives, and when our faith wavers, and our belief falters, and our grief grips our hearts, may we share what we have, the love that gave up all power for us. Amen.

3 Easter Yr B April 19 2015

3 Easter Yr B April 19 2015 Audio

Let's start with some fantasy casting today shall we? If you were choosing the lead in the next blockbuster about averting the disaster that destroys the earth, the one who saves the world, who would it be? The James Bond type, like Daniel Craig? The Action Hero type, like Lucy Lawless, Xena: Warrior Princess, maybe Harrison Ford, or maybe we'd have to do something animated or computer generated and have Elsa from Frozen. Which one of these could play The Messiah, the one who saves the world? Who would be your Fantasy Messiah?

You may think I'm being silly here, and maybe I am, but the faithful people of the early 1st century were waiting with baited breath and wild anticipation for the one, the messiah, who would rescue them out of their predicament, and at the very least, put them into power and vanquish the Romans and the Greeks and the Temple Priests.  

And at every turn, Jesus, the one they got, was nothing like the Fantasy Messiah they had dreamed about, that they had imagined. Not in life, not in death, not in resurrection. Jesus, the Messiah they got, lived a quiet, non-descript life, grew up to be a teacher, of all things, ended up on a Roman cross, reserved for criminals, and died. To the world, the whole sordid affair looked like failure. 

And then, after death, Jesus shows up in locked rooms, and on roads to nowhere. Jesus shows up, and just as in life they didn't recognize him as the messiah, in death they don't recognize him as Jesus, the one who is God in the flesh. The one who is the incarnation. They were terrified and afraid, they thought they were seeing a ghost. 

They just couldn't believe what they were seeing. Feed me, he says. He shows them the holes in his flesh. Maybe what Jesus is doing here is showing that incarnation again, in the flesh, even after resurrection. Maybe Jesus is showing that God continues to be engaged in the mundane activities, like eating. Because the reality here, and in all these stories we hear after Jesus death on the cross, and the empty tomb, is that no one believed it. Traditionally, Thomas has gotten the bad rap, but really, no one believes it. In the Gospel of Luke, no one believes it. 

We have not read Luke this Easter season, so let's take a quick look at it. Those who went to the tomb found the stone rolled away, when they went in, they did not find the body. The women were terrified, they saw what they thought were two men in dazzling clothes, and they helped the women remember what they had been told about what would happen. Then they remembered Jesus' words, and returning from the tomb, they told all this to the eleven and to the rest. In Luke's telling, there were no words of "I have seen the Lord." The response to the women, in Luke's telling, in the greek, is the word that is used is the root of our word, delirious. So in response to the testimony of the women, the disciples say they are out of their freakin' minds. Then, on the same day, two of them were going to Emmaus, while they were on the road, Jesus walked with them and told them stories, they did not believe that it was Jesus until Jesus ate with them. 

When we disbelieve, we are in good company. I have never believed that this life of being a follower of Jesus excludes disbelief. The story we live and breathe, the story of incarnation and resurrection, is inconceivable. Made more so when we try desperately to make it all make sense. 

So what is so compelling about this story that has caused it to be authoritative and enlivening for centuries? It is true. It is true not because it is fact or because it is history. It is true in the way of truth that speaks into the deepest crevices of our broken hearts, it is true in the way of truth that speaks into our deepest joy, it is true in the way of truth that speaks into our deepest hungers that cannot be satisfied by only food, but by food that is shared. Truth is beyond ordinary fact, facts are important but not enough, they do not take you where you need to go. 

Facts do not take you into the hospital room when you know that your loved one will die. Truth takes you there, the truth of love, the truth of pain, the truth of compassion, the truth that something arises out of it that only your heart knows, words can not.

Facts do not take you to the place where you are willing to give your heart to another. Truth takes you there, the truth that together you are so much more than you are alone, the truth that what you want is your beloved's happiness and joy. 

If even the disciples lived in disbelief, if even the disciples believed all this talk of resurrection is freakin' inconceivable, what makes us think we are any different? It is not up to us anyway to believe and not doubt. Even theology cannot say enough about God to make you believe. It is up to us though, in the midst of darkness and pain, to choose love and life. It is up to us, when what looks like loss and failure is transformed into love and life. 

Our disbelief, however, does not stop us from following Jesus. Our disbelief does not change the truth that love wins, not power. Belief finally arises out of the reality of our lives. Faith is the acceptance of disbelief, of doubt. Faith is when we come to the place where we can embrace the truth of love, the inconceivability of incarnation, faith is when we can come to the place where we can trudge through the muck and the mess of this life, and know that in it we are not alone. Faith is when we are freed to love ourselves, we are freed to love each other. Faith is when we accept our freedom to love and serve others, and that love bears us up to do what Jesus calls us to do.

Faith is not in a fantasy messiah, faith is not in a superhero. Faith is in the love that goes to inconceivable heights and depths to accompany us in all that this life throws at us. And then it is in that place that we discover our own superpower, and that superpower is that what was broken is healed, what was dead is alive. Amen                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            

9 Pentecost Yr A Proper 14 August 10 2014

Audio 8.10.2014

I get to tell one of my favorite jokes when we read this story. A priest, a rabbi and a minister were all in a boat out in the middle of a lake. The Priest says, "I’m thirsty. I’m going to shore and get something to drink." So she gets out of the boat walks across the water to shore, gets a drink, walks back across the water, and gets back in the boat. The minister says, "I’m thirsty also. I’m going to shore and get something to drink." So he gets out of the boat, walks across the water to shore, gets a drink, walks back across the water, and gets back in the boat. The rabbi thinks to himself "pretty cool. I’m trying it." So he says, "I’m thirsty also. I’m going to shore to get something to drink." He gets out of the boat and falls in the water and sputters around. Then the priest said to the minister, "Do you think we should have told him where the rocks were?"

The walking on water story goes like this in Eugene Peterson’s translation in the Message. Jesus came toward them walking on the water. They were scared out of their wits. “A ghost!” they said, crying out in terror. But Jesus was quick to comfort them. “Courage, it’s me. Don’t be afraid.” Peter, suddenly bold, said, “Master, if it’s really you, call me to come to you on the water.” Jesus said, “Come ahead.” Jumping out of the boat, Peter walked on the water to Jesus. But when he looked down at the waves churning beneath his feet, he lost his nerve and started to sink. He cried, Master, save me! Jesus didn’t hesitate. He reached down and grabbed Peter’s hand. Then Jesus said, “Faint heart, what got into you?” 

This story is the story that has given rise to the expression “oh ye of little faith.” But I’m not convinced it’s a story about a lack of faith, as much as it is a story about having a little faith. Peter actually has a little faith in this story, what he needs is courage after he steps out to keep on going. I think Peter is the quintessential human being. Peter is just like me. There are days I have a little faith, and days I need a lot of courage. Peter gives me hope. 

Let’s check this out. We heard the mustard seed story just two weeks ago. Jesus says in a version of that story, “if you had faith the size of a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move; and nothing will be impossible for you.” Now we know that a mustard seed is a mighty tiny seed, so having faith the size of a mustard seed is a little faith. But these are stories not about what faith is lacking, and it is not about not having enough faith, it is about the faith that Peter has that causes him to courageously step out of the boat. And they are stories that include you and me, who, on most days, like Peter, have a little faith. 

So how much faith do you need to make a difference, to change the world, to move mountains, and, like the rest of the disciples in the boat that day, to know that Jesus is lord? You need a little faith. Faith is not about having enough, faith is not about knowing for absolute sure, faith is not about clarity or certainty. Faith isn’t about shouting most loudly about knowing exactly what God’s specific plans for everyone are, faith isn’t about knowing the future. 

Well then, what is faith about? Faith is a willingness to risk. Faith is about the courage to take that step out of the boat, to respond to Jesus when he says “come ahead,” and to do it whether you think you’ll sink or swim. And faith proceeds from love, the kind of love that makes a person willing to be the first to say “I love you”, not because of a certain expectation of a particular reply, but because of the possibilities that saying “I love you” opens. 

Faith doesn’t connote belief in a particular outcome, and it isn’t an intellectual assent to a particular proposition. Faith is not a wish for more money or a better life. Putting our faith in this particular story about death and resurrection, putting our faith in Jesus does not mean believing that we’ll be successful in a particular enterprise that Jesus is calling us to. Having faith in Jesus means a willingness to follow Jesus, not because we believe that we’ve already got the rest of the story plotted out once we’ve made that decision, but because we take seriously that Jesus is Lord.

So faith is the courage to risk, faith opens up the possibilities, and faith is taking seriously that Jesus is Lord. This faith opens up the possibility that we are fully capable of loving one another, that we are fully capable of respecting the dignity of every person, and the possibility that we must die in order to live again. This kind of faith also opens up the possibility that we may fall, and that we may wallow in the mess. And when that happens, we can look to resurrection and hope, and know that Jesus is right there with us in that mess. 

Faith is not certainty and it is not security in a right future. Faith is living each day knowing that Jesus lived each day. Faith is the courage to risk. Jesus loved, Jesus was hurt, Jesus even hurt others, Jesus risked everything, Jesus died and Jesus rose from the dead. Faith is responding to Jesus’ invitation, “come ahead, have courage,” and being transformed by the relationship. 

Faith is risking it all and being together in the mess. Peter wasn’t alone in that boat. All the disciples were there with him. Faith is finding love and hope here in the body of Christ. Because this risky business of faith is not to be undertaken by yourself. It is to be undertaken together, it is to be undertaken in the body of Christ. We do this together, no one is out there alone undertaking this risky business of faith, it’s too important, it’s too dangerous, it’s too perilous. Every one of us needs a support team. 

The body of Christ, the community of faith, is our support team in this risky venture of faith. I could not be your priest without all of your prayers and words of encouragement. I depend on your prayers, as you depend on my prayers and the prayers of all of us gathered. Not one of us can accomplish the risky work of faith out in the world without the support team that is our community of faith. I go to Sr. Margaret at St. Martin’s monastery once a month for spiritual direction, and I know I am and we are in the daily prayers of the sisters there, they are our support team. 

My favorite author, Madeleine L’engle once said during her recovery after a horrible accident she was in, that she could no longer pray, but that she knew that there were people who were praying on her behalf. We pray for others and on behalf of others all the time. That is the body of Christ, the community of faith doing its work. 

I believe faith is not one sided. Faith is not just about us. I believe that God has faith in me, and in us. Imagine the risk God takes at the creation of each and every child, each and every planet, each and every star. Will it be all that God intends for it to be? Will it be creative, will it be life-giving, will it fulfill all the hope in its creation? God is faithful. God risks everything with each and every one of us. If we have little faith, the size of a mustard seed, God has humungous faith, the size of millions of universes.

It is God’s huge faith in me that enables me to have little faith in Jesus. Little faith is enough to make a difference, little faith is enough to bring Light into the mess, little faith is enough to move mountains, and little faith is enough to find the rocks in the water so that we can make it to the other side. Thank God. Amen.