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.

Easter April 4 2021

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Easter April 4 2021

John 20:1-18

 

It's been a long, hard year. We look to the next few months with hope, anticipation, and excitement as we see ourselves gathering again, as we see ourselves hugging and singing again. And I for one am so ready for all of that. And yet, as a person who has experienced personal grief, as have many of you, and a community and country that have experienced massive grief, it does us well to look back so that we can find the place we choose to be in today, and step into our future not with a wish for everything to be better, but real hope that all things will be well. Mary, in John’s story of Jesus’ death, will help us find ourselves and revel in the joy of resurrection and ascension. 

 

Let’s take a look at Mary and what she has to say to us and to the world. She comes to the tomb, after watching and witnessing Jesus’ death on the cross, believing this was the end of the run, the end of the story, the end of her life as well as Jesus’. Imagine her there. Mary, the outlier. Mary, scorned by most of Jesus’ friends as well as the culture in which she lived. Mary, who when she was with Jesus, mattered. When she was with Jesus her life held value and meaning. This Mary understood heartbreak. Many of us have watched a loved one die, but none of us have watched a death so violent as this death on the cross. Her sadness and grief were tremendous. We meet her here, at the tomb. She had come early in the morning after what must have been a sleepless night, only to discover that the body, the one she loves, was not there. She ran back to tell the others, they arrived at the tomb and confirmed what she had seen and yet, they returned home.  

 

Mary stood weeping. Mary stood weeping. Three little words, three little words that encapsulate so much of our reality. It could be any one of us, we have wept. We have wept for our loved ones, we have wept because our hearts have been broken as we have been absent, one from another. We have wept in disappointment. We have wept in frustration. We have wept in loneliness. We have wept at the oppression and mistreatment of people of color. We have wept in the midst of storm and fire. We have wept. These are holy tears, and they recall for us Jesus’ tears at the grave of his friend, Lazarus. 

 

Together with Mary we stand in this space that is filled with sadness, and with hope, and joy. Why do you weep? Who are you looking for?

 

Name them, name them as Jesus named Mary. Name those who we love but see no more. Bring joy and love into your heart as you see them, as you remember them, and you learn to fill your broken heart with their memory. Revel in the tears and the heartache.

 

And then, listen. Listen for the one who calls your name. In the darkness of that morning, Mary saw those angels in the tomb, and they wondered with compassion about her tears, she named her grief, they have taken him away, I do not know where he is. Crying in the darkness of that tomb, Jesus, stands before her, unrecognizable, and breaths, Mary. Mary. 

 

As you hear this, remember the other time we heard Jesus calling our names. When we are lost and cannot find our way. When we are broken and hurting and in need of healing. When we feel like we’ve come to the brink, and Jesus calls our name and brings us home. The shepherd calls our name, and we hear the voice of compassion and love. This is what Mary hears, this is what we hear. And contained in that name, Mary, is all of Jesus’ love for her, and for us. Jesus’ love saturates our grief. Mary is filled with the assurance that Jesus is right there with her, we are filled with the assurance that Jesus is right here with us, can we hear? Can we see?

 

Mary wants to hold on to Jesus, isn’t that what we want to do? When those we love die, we want to hold on in our grief. But Jesus is very clear with Mary that he will go, and after this very real resurrection Jesus will not leave her, or us, alone. And Jesus does not want Mary to hold on to him; he tells her to go and tell the others. And she announces to everyone, “I have seen the Lord”. 

 

There is power in these words of Mary. Power born of grief, power born of compassion, power born of brokenness. Mary, beautiful Mary Magdalen, was an outlier, her power was not as a result of authority or control, her power, maybe even her super power, was in compassion and sight, born out of derision. 

 

Mary’s words are spoken to those who follow Jesus, those who gathered in fear in the early hours of that first morning, and us, who gather in joy on this most beautiful Easter day. “I have seen the Lord.” The light is breaking through, the dark does not win. 

 

This is the way of Love, this is the path we are on, the path from darkness to light, the path from death to life. 

 

As we look back at where we have been, where have you seen the Lord? Who are the Mary’s who have called out to you, “I have seen the Lord?” Where have you seen compassion and love? Who has called your name? Is there someone who has grabbed your hand and pulled you back, and said, “you are loved?”

 

Mary’s words are stunning, they are filled with hope. You see, not only do we look back, and see all the times when we have seen the Lord, we stand in God’s presence today. I look out on all of you, and I can say, “I see the Lord.” I see the hands and feet of the one whose love causes us to love the Mary’s, the outliers. I see the hands and feet of the one whose love causes us to love one another. And I see the hands and feet of the one whose love causes us to say to all who have ears to hear, Alleluia, Christ is Risen. The Lord has risen indeed. Alleluia.

Good Friday

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Good Friday April 2 2021

I think Good Friday is such a confusing day. Is it a day of mourning, or a day of rejoicing? Is it a day to be sad, or is it a day of forgiveness, love, and compassion? It is all of that. It is time out of time, it is unexpected, in it the system is broken, Jesus is broken, we are broken. What is good about Good Friday? 

 

I think what is good about Good Friday is that it shows us the true story about death. That there isn't just one death that each of us must die, but there are many. Over and over we must die to that which is killing us, over and over, to truly be ourselves, we must lay down all that gets in our way of the loving relationship that God desires with us. And that is good, and very different than what the world tells us is good. And it is different for each of us, the stuff that gets in our way, the idols we worship, the dependency on ourselves, security and safety. God says, lay that down, and don't pick it up again. Walk with me, depend on me.

 

We live this day, and many days, in the reality of this cross. You have been carrying your cross around with you all during lent. The cross that reminds you of God's love for you, the cross that reminds you that it is through death, and for Jesus, death on that cross, that you receive full and new life. The cross that reminds us of Jesus' brokenness, of our brokenness.

 

Good Friday shows us that something must die before the green and growing thing can take root and bear new life. Good Friday shows us that forgiveness is about pruning that which is dead anyway, so that God can affect in us the new life that God promises. Good Friday shows us that the work Jesus does on the cross matters, that God's love for humanity, and the healing that love affects, saves us. 

 

Jesus’ prayer in the garden of Gethsemane is Lord, not my will but yours be done. Giving up our will is not a bad thing. In our culture that is all about you, all about what you want and when you want it, obedience becomes a bad word. But it is being who God wants us to be that is a good thing, and that requires that we die to whatever it is that holds us hostage, whatever it is that is killing us.

 

Good Friday shows us holy dying, it is not easy, but it is a part of life. You see, the truth is that being human means being born to die. Again, none of us gets out of here alive. Jesus’ life, and suffering and death on a Roman cross not only show us how to do it, but Jesus, on that Roman cross, takes our place. On this night we remember all this. We enter into the story of the passion.  We hear the story in the voices of those who were with Jesus that terrible night. We do so not to glorify Jesus’ death or any other death, we do it so that we may be healed, we may be reconciled, that we may have the absolutely new and abundant life that God offers in the life, suffering, death, and resurrection of Jesus.

 

The people who populate this story, and the events of this passion, the betrayal, the lies, the apathy, the bad luck, allow each of us to enter the story. You and I are these people, we are people who have betrayed and been betrayed, we are people who have lied and who have been lied to, we are people who have shown apathy, and we are people who experience just darn bad luck. We are people who have experienced sadness and pain, we are people who feel isolated and alienated at times. We are human beings who live in the muck and mess of this life. What we do together this evening, and even the joyous resurrection we will celebrate together on Sunday, doesn’t take away the reality of the muck and mess in which we live. We carry these crosses, they are part of who we are.

 

So what does happen when we walk the way of the cross with Jesus, when we enter into the events of this holy week and this holy day? Why do we all show up all these evenings to walk the way of the cross with Jesus? We grow toward Holy Dying and transformation happens. I surely hope we are changed by our encounter with the people on the way, the people in the stories, and by the amazing love that God has for us that we know because God is willing to be one of us. Because only a God who is willing to be one of us, a God who has such faith in us, is a God in which I can place my love, my loyalty, my attention.

What changes? Jesus does not fight violence with violence, hatred, or revenge. Love wins. Jesus takes on all of our betrayal, all of our lies, our apathy, all of our pain, sadness, loneliness and isolation, and Jesus defeats it, not by resisting it with the sort of violence that was visited upon him, but by absorbing it and removing it through the power of love. 

 

And Jesus’ dying on the cross looks to the world like failure. Jesus suffered, Jesus died. But Jesus did not fail. Jesus redefined death and life. Death does not have the final word; death does not have the victory. The Word of God has the final word.

 

What Jesus did on the cross was to make it possible for us to have new life, a life that our words cannot begin to describe, a life that our minds cannot begin to imagine. What Jesus did and does is to make it possible for us to be make whole, to be put back together again, to be loved wholly and completely. 

 

Winning and losing have no meaning in Jesus’ Kingdom; love and forgiveness are gifts. Success and failure have no meaning in Jesus’ Kingdom; sharing and walking together are gifts. Even isolation, and have felt isolation deeply, has no meaning in Jesus’ Kingdom; relationship and connection are gifts, even through zoom and live streaming.

 

Death is real and grief hurts and sometimes we just have to sit in the silence and cry and wait. Can we do that? Can we sit in the pain and loneliness with those who suffer? That is what this Good Friday is about. In these past days, and weeks, and months, we have more experience than we would wish, in this. It is very like when we sit with our loved ones in hospital, or at home, waiting, quite unsure of what to do or what to think, silence and sadness and tears, are our only activity. 

 

Too many Christians want to go straight from the garden of Gethsemane to the garden of the empty tomb without going by way of the hill of crucifixion and the stone-cold body. It seems too painful to sit in silence, waiting and grieving. And yet nothing of the reality of Christ’s victory over evil on the cross, or our faith in the resurrection to come soon, must be allowed to shield us from the awful brute fact that Jesus died. And that death, that brokenness, makes us whole.

 

We have come through so much, heartache, sadness, and we look forward to joy, hope, love. For now, we wait.

 

Tonight, we sit in the tension, of life, death, and new life. Watch, and wait. 

Palm Sunday Yr B March 28 2021

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Palm Sunday Yr B March 28 2021

I have chosen to say a few words at this spot today because it makes more sense to me to talk about Jesus' entry into Jerusalem, and then to receive the story of Jesus' passion in silence. Liturgically, we do something very odd here. We begin our worship together with waving palms, with the parade, and with Jesus' entry into Jerusalem, and we end our worship in quiet, as we prepare for the unfolding of this passionate story through out the week. Please know that it takes all week to hear this story, to participate in this story, to be able to approach Easter and resurrection. This week carve out time to participate, you all have full lives, but this week, of all the weeks of our lives, is the week to be present, to show up.

It’s been a year of slowing down, paying attention, being quiet. We have had so much pain and suffering, deaths due to COVID, gun violence, plain old ordinary disease. And we tell our stories, our stories about our loved ones, and about those we don’t even know. Stories about the last time we were together, about the last things they were doing. We grieve and are sad, we cry, we wait, we celebrate their life. We’ve always done these things together, and this last year has challenged our togetherness, challenged us to experience being together in new and different ways. And this week will be different. But it doesn’t change the reality that this death is a family death, and using all the means at our disposal, we need do it together.  

 

But for this moment, I need to reflect on the Palm of Palm Sunday. Jesus and the disciples and thousands of other pilgrims have made their way to Jerusalem for the Passover. Jesus enters Jerusalem as a rock star, hailed as the king. Not Caesar, not the appointed Roman governor. But a new king--one for the poor, for those without voices, for those left behind. Jesus is hailed as King, yet riding on a colt, or a young donkey. Jesus is welcomed into the city, Jerusalem, and people shout "blessed is the one who comes in the name of The Lord – the king of Israel" for now. They lay down their cloaks, holey as they are. And for the time being, we are all willing to follow. But are we also willing to follow into trouble, controversy, trial and death?

 

The donkey, the disciples, the display. When we look closely we see the people gathered for this parade, this march, this entrance into Jerusalem. They are not the important and powerful, but the poor and marginalized, maybe even the young, all Jesus' disciples. This very important but very brief story shows us that Love does not win by the world's standards. Jesus comes as the fulfillment of the nation's hopes, answering our longings for a king who would bring peace to earth from heaven itself. Jesus brings the peace that surpasses understanding, and much of what is about to unfold in the next few days will be the price that is paid to bring it. Jesus’ disciples, of course, have seen things that have changed their lives forever and have raised their hopes. Indeed, our lives our changed.

 

This is not about the powerful Pharisees, grumbling about what will happen if the authorities in Jerusalem think that there's a messianic demonstration going on. This story is not about the powerful or wealthy people of the day, it is about the Kingdom of God in which the last will be first and the first will be last. It is about the woman who anoints Jesus with a very costly ointment of nard. It is about Judas, one of the twelve, one of Jesus’ friends, who makes a choice of power and greed over love. It’s about Peter who denies his love for Jesus. It is about bread and blessing, it is about prayer and emptying, it is about betrayal and it is about love. 

 

Love wins by God's defeat of evil, and our participation in the new life made possible by the work of Jesus. God gives up Godself for us, those God loves, thus empowering and emboldening us to do the same. 

 

This is the holiest of weeks. We have prepared ourselves throughout Lent for this journey with Jesus. We come to this Passover festival with Jesus' disciples, we come lean and fit, free of all the stuff that has held us hostage, as that is what our Lenten discipline has done for us. We have carried our own cross with us, by the cross traced on our foreheads, we have remembered who and whose we are. We have left behind that which keeps us prisoner to the world's wants and wills, we have disassembled brick by brick the walls that we had build to shield us from God's love. We make this journey with Jesus, and revel in the pre-Passover party. 

 

Rejoice in this moment. This moment of welcome, when the shouts of "Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord – the King of Israel” are heard throughout the cosmos. This moment is fleeting. It turns quickly to the terrifying shouts of the crowd, "crucify him." 

 

After the story this morning, we will sit in the silence for a time. As we leave today, we enter into a Holy Week. Please don't wait to come back until Easter, come back to walk these steps to the cross with Jesus. The Service of Darkness will be live streamed on Wednesday. On Maundy Thursday and Good Friday you can come into the church, on Thursday to participate in foot washing, in communion, and in laying the altar bare, and on Friday in prayer. The Good Friday service and passion reading will be live streamed on Friday evening. These things are on our journey to celebration on Saturday and Sunday. Please be a part of them. Let us now hear the word of God.

Fifth Sunday of Lent Yr B March 21 2021

Fifth Sunday of Lent Yr B March 21 2021

Jeremiah 31:31-34, Hebrews 5:5-10, John 12:20-33, Psalm 119:9-16

 

Location, location, location. The story we read today happens in the middle of the chaos and celebration of Passover in Jerusalem. A thousand people could be there, everyone goes. It is the center for commerce as well as where the temple is located. And, we are at the jumping off point. What comes next in John’s gospel is Jesus’ final words, all of the instructions that Jesus wants to impart to his followers, including you and me. 

 

And in the middle of all that commotion, a group of Greeks arrive on the scene. Who knows why they were there, at a Jewish festival, but they were, and clearly rather curious. They find Philip and make one of the most extraordinary requests of the entire gospel. “Sir, we wish to see Jesus.” Just a reminder, those who make this request are Greeks, not Jews, it is an odd request. Jesus’ last words in public are a response to this request to see Jesus. Jesus says the time has come, if you wish to see Jesus, then this is what you will see and what you must see, and it’s not all pretty or neat. In fact, it’s messy and hard. But the way of love is messy and hard, and it is the way not only we get to see Jesus; it is the way we get to bring Jesus to those who are broken and in need of healing.

 

So let us see what we can see. First and foremost is the wonderful, amazing, and somewhat frightening image of death and life. A grain of wheat remains a solitary grain unless it falls into the ground and dies; but if it dies, it bears a rich harvest. I think you gardeners out there know this truth better than most. We will be embarking on the planting season very soon, I for one cannot wait. However, I have given up on growing vegetables, especially when I can walk a few blocks to the farmers market cart and buy a tomato, and a cucumber, and an ear of corn. This year my garden will be wildflowers, or weeds, who knows. I’ll add some good dirt to my little plot, and throw some seeds into it, and watch those beautiful flowers grow. 

 

As I sort out the seeds I will sow, I am taken by their shape before I throw them to the ground. Most of them are some variety of little black blobs, some bigger, some smaller. Recently, when I was in northern Minnesota, I picked some seed pods off a morning glory plant. That plant was all dried up and brown. You see, nothing we put into the ground looks anything like what grows out of the ground. This is what Jesus wants us to see. Those bulbs under the ground that are erupting in tulips, in crocus and daffodils, are not nearly as pretty as the flowers above.

 

Ordinarily, burying something in the ground is to lose it. Or to hide it. That’s the way our culture looks at it anyway. It looks like loss. Death looks like loss. Death looks like defeat. But what Jesus tries to show us over and over again is what looks like loss to those who have eyes to see is not loss at all, but change, transformation. This is the truth of new life, this is the truth of the story we will embark upon during holy week, this is the story of death and resurrection, this is the story that claims our lives. 

 

In these days of darkness and loneliness, these days of isolation, these days of meanness and hate, I’ve been thinking about darkness, and of course light. Maybe part of the reason that death looks like loss is that we hide in the dark. We hide our lies about ourselves and others. We hide our sense of shame and inadequacy. We hide from those we love, we hide from God. We hide all our broken pieces, never to be put back together again. Hiding for so long in the dark can make us mean and hateful, it may cause addiction or maybe even be a result of addiction. That is a complicated disease. Hiding in the dark is most assuredly about denying reality. Stepping out of the dark is the most difficult thing any of us may have to do. It takes telling the truth. But stepping out of the dark is where new life begins. It is the only chance of putting the broken pieces together in a whole new way. We may be lost, but we are not defeated. Because Jesus’ light shines even into that darkness. 

 

You see, this is what Jesus means, about himself and about us, because we are all flesh and blood. Jesus’ journey to the cross and on the cross looks to the world and to the empire that murders him, like loss and defeat. Jesus was mocked and ridiculed. This is not a game with winners and losers; it is a love story. An alternate translation of verse 32 is “And in my dying, and rising, and ascending, will be the fulfillment of the promise, for God so loved the world.”

 

You see, God’s dream for creation, for you and me, is this very reality. What looks like loss or death, what feels like deep darkness, is the place where creation is made new. What is broken is put back together, it is healed. And people are strongest where they’ve been broken. And those who came asking to see Jesus were looking for this new reality, this promise of something more. This way of love and of light. 

 

Healing is God’s dream for creation. Healing and reconciliation, and right relationship. That’s what John’s gospel is all about in the end, and the beginning and the middle. God reaches into creation to take on flesh and blood, that’s the descending part. That very flesh and blood living and breathing and doing what flesh and blood does. And that includes dying. But John tells us not only that, but this amazing thing, this something more, resurrection and ascension. That’s the ascending and glorifying part. That’s also the relationship part, we are not ever left alone. No matter how dark our darkness feels, we are not alone in it. We can arise out of it, stretching toward the light. 

 

Next week begins our journey to the cross with Jesus. It will be an odd journey for us, meeting in person sometimes, meeting virtually sometimes. But no matter how you do it, please be present in these days. Be present to God’s gift of love, and healing, and new birth.

Fourth Sunday in Lent Yr B March 14 2021

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 Fourth Sunday in Lent Yr B March 14 2021

Numbers 21:4-9, Ephesians 2:1-10, John 3:14-21, Psalm 107:1-3, 17-22

 

Location, location, location, continues to be our theme. In order to understand this passage from John that we just heard we must put it in its context, so we need to consider the story that precedes it. The story of Nicodemus. Nico must have been curious about Jesus but because he is a Jewish leader, he could not be caught going to see Jesus, so he comes to Jesus by night. It’s pretty clear that Nico doesn’t fully understand what is going on or who Jesus is. That is true in most of John’s gospel. Nico hears Jesus speak these unfamiliar and foreign words about being born from above and wonders out loud about what that could even be about. Nico is astounded and asks Jesus how these things can be. And with that question, you and I hear these very familiar words we hear today. And, I am not even going to talk about those most familiar words, because really, there is so much more to hear in this reading.

 

Firstly, God gives Godself, God comes into humanity so that humanity may live. And secondly, that this is the time for discernment because the light of the world is shining bright. This is some really exciting news. 

 

In John’s gospel there is much language about ascending and descending. This illustration in John is depicted in artwork and in poetry. But what is it that John is trying so hard to get across to Nicodemus, to the disciples, to us? You have heard me say over and over again that incarnation, God in our midst, Jesus in flesh and blood, is all about God reaching into our lives and our hearts to bring us and call us into relationship. And how different this is from before Jesus, when God was literally in a box, in the ark of the covenant, God is now in flesh and blood. This is what John’s language is all about. God descends, God comes to humanity for the sake of love, to bring humanity back to Godself. God comes to humanity in flesh and blood to bring new life. This is Jesus. This is the Word; this is God’s language of love. 

 

But there is a price to pay even for God. All incarnation, Jesus, you and me, all flesh and blood dies. That is the story we embark upon each Holy Week. That is the scandal of incarnation. And this is what John means with eternal life. The arc of John’s story is all about incarnation and continues to resurrection and ascension. Jesus returns to God for the purpose of preparing our place with God. So, the story goes to and through the cross, but the story does not end there. The eternal life that God offers through the flesh and blood of Jesus is relationship and love. There is a place prepared for us. 

 

You see, God makes the first move, God reaches out to creation in love, God becomes flesh and blood so that humanity may not be alone in this human journey. God knows it’s hard enough alone, so God in flesh and blood accompanies us on this journey. But because God in Jesus is flesh and blood, Jesus dies. We are not left alone, God moves amoung us, Jesus accompanies us, the Spirit envelopes us. However, John makes it clear that this is not a transactional relationship. It is an unconditional relationship. This is the part that is so hard to wrap our minds and our hearts around. This isn’t a check off the boxes kinda deal. This is an all encompassing no matter what kinda deal. 

 

The hard part is that we live in a world in which we must run faster, work harder, make more money, be beautiful, have the most stuff in order to be valued, or loved, or feared, so that we can get the reward. That is not God’s love in Jesus, that is a lie. Eternal life is what God offers us here and now and in response we go out and love our neighbor, and our family, and those whose reality we cannot know. 

 

And that brings us to the second part of what John is trying to tell us here. My friends, the Light comes into the world, this is the time, there is no other. You see, the here and now of eternal life is a critical promise for us today, not just a future time or place. This is a moment of discernment. A closer translation of verse 19 rejects judgement in favor of discernment. So, it reads, “this is the time of discernment because the light of the world is shining bright; and we choose to ignore what’s being revealed.” Discernment, means deep listening to God’s call to us, deep listening to what God would have us be about, deep listening to the love that sustains us. The Light of the world is shining bright, and it is time to deeply listen to what God is revealing now. The light is shining bright, this is the time of revelation. Nicodemus comes to Jesus in the dark, Judas betrays Jesus in the dark, Peter denies Jesus in the dark. The problem is that they all saw the light, but were afraid. The light comes into the world, but people continue to hide in the dark. 

 

Let’s bathe in the warmth and the love of the light. You see, living in the light is about telling the truth. Many of you have heard me speak about the four marks of ministry. Hopefully you can say them with me, showing up, listening, telling the truth, letting go of the outcome. Do you recognize those in this passage of John? They are there, showing up is about being really present in your relationships and listening deeply to those who are present with you. 

 

That brings us to telling the truth, where we find ourselves today. Living in the light is about telling the truth and hearing the truth about all of our earnest goodness and all of our stupid mistakes. And telling the truth seems to be really hard these days. Telling the truth and hearing the truth in these days means that we must do some things differently. It means we must let go of our need to be right, and instead we must listen deeply to the lives of those we differ from; those who are immigrants, those whose skin color is different from our own, those whose gender and preference we just don’t get; those whose experience with sexual bias or even violence is outside of our particular box. 

 

We must listen deeply, we must love deeply, and in the beginning and the end, God’s light shines in the darkness, God’s love walks this earth, and God’s love wins.

Third Sunday in Lent Yr B March 7 2021

Remains of a building on the island of Iona, Scotland

Third Sunday in Lent Yr B March 7 2021

Exodus 20:1-17, 1 Corinthians 1:18-25, John 2:13-22, Psalm 19

 

Today we move from Mark’s gospel to John’s, and one thing remains the same, location, location, location. But in a whole new way. Yes, where this story in John’s gospel is important, it’s very near the beginning, and where Jesus and the disciples are located, in the temple in Jerusalem, is also important. But location in this story not only is important, it becomes earth shattering. You see, Jesus is concerned about what is happening at the temple, money changing, desecration, and even idol worship. And, and this is the really important part, Jesus is saying something they have never heard before. “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.” The temple priests could not figure him out. It had been hundreds of years since exile, when God assured the people that God was still with them. And then when they returned to their own lands they built the temple that is in our story today, and put God back inside. 

 

This temple tantrum of Jesus’ was quite unexpected, and Jesus’ words were unimaginable. The new, earth shattering, ground moving reality is that the location of God is no longer in the ark of the covenant, or in the holy of holies, God is now located in the person of Jesus. This is what Jesus is trying to tell them. The arc of John’s story begins in creation, moves through pain and suffering, death and resurrection, and ends in ascension. During the course of this story, God in Jesus is in our midst, and when the incarnation of God dies, rises from the dead, and ascends, humanity is not left alone. 

 

So this is the new reality Jesus is trying so hard to convey to them. But the words are so hard to put together and to understand. How do you describe the glorious impossible? How do you come close to the inconceivable incarnation? How do you begin to conceive of a reality that is unreasonable? This is what Jesus is asking of them, this is what Jesus is trying to tell them. Jesus is trying to show them that everything they thought they knew about a messiah is turned upside down and inside out. 

 

And Jesus tells them that the proper place of worship is no longer the temple. Oh my gosh! Can you hear the weight of that statement? 

 

The proper place to encounter God is in the relationship, it is with Jesus who is God in our midst. God’s heart’s desire is relationship with the beloveds, with you, and me, and those we love, those we can’t stand to be around, those whose presence is a threat to us, those whose gender is uncertain to us. God has left the building, and God is now in our midst. This is what is at the heart of Jesus’ I am statements. I am the bread of life, I am the light of the world, I am the door, I am the good shepherd, I am the resurrection and the life, I am the way the truth and the life, I am the vine. All metaphors to convey relationship, and the intimacy of this relationship. All ways Jesus tries to tell those who follow what this relationship really looks like and is about. God dwells in us; we dwell in God. This is what is eternal life, new life, abundant life. 

 

And what is even crazier than God incarnate, God in their midst, God who is put to death on a cross, is God in Spirit. God let loose into the wild. God who cannot be contained, controlled, confined. God in Spirit; Trinity, earth-maker, pain-bearer, life-giver. 

 

This is what Jesus means to be destroyed and to be raised up, and what John points us to. You see, once God is incarnate, once God is human flesh, God can die, and God does die. It looks like loss, it looks like foolishness, but this is the good news. This is the profound reality of Jesus. This is the profound love of the creator. This is the profound sadness of human life. This is the profound healing of love, God’s love for us, and our love for our neighbor. Jesus’s scars reach out to our scars, and we are healed. 

 

The zeal for God’s house is now in the flesh, and this wonderfully good news calls followers of Jesus to be the bearers of God’s love not just in our churches but in every part of our lives. We are to be in the world to do the work we have been given to do; to love and serve God as faithful witnesses of Christ our lord. 

 

And I believe that is what this covid-tide that we are in is all about. We are called out of our churches, out of our boxes, out of everything that has been normal for us, into this new and exciting and sometimes terrifying place. We are called to reorientation, we are called to see, and hear, and feel, all of the newness of this time. It is a time of revelation; God is pulling back the curtain and showing us the ugliness and festering of the ways humanity has not been lovely and kind to one another. But God is also pulling back the curtain and showing us how we can be together. How we can care for each other, how we can love and support one another. What our communities of love and faith can be. 

 

Our heart’s home is where God is, and we bear God with us to all the places. We smell God in the incense and in the oil when we are in our church, and also in the wind and the rain of the land that is home. We see God in the stained glass and the candles, and also in the eyes of the people we encounter. We hear God in the silence, and in the music, and the voices of those we gather to worship with, and also in the sound of the babies, and the cracking of the ice, and the voice of protest. 

 

God has left the building; God is on the loose. The earth trembles under our feet. Thanks be to God.