2nd Sunday after Pentecost Yr A

I often wonder how the story about God and Jesus would be different if women had the opportunity to tell it. The story of Abraham and Isaac might go something like this had Sarah told the story.

In the privacy of their bedroom, Sarah and her husband were exchanging words. Sarah said, "God told you what! God told you to take Isaac up on the mountain and make him the sacrifice!
No way, God would never say that. It's God who gave Isaac to us when we were already too old to have children. And even if God did say it, you'll do it over my dead body!"

Abraham, because he was so pigheaded and stubborn, took Isaac against his wife's better judgment, loaded him up with wood for the fire, and led him up the mountain. Sarah followed secretly. While Abraham built the altar and laid the wood on it, Sarah hid in the bushes. She was so angry with God and with her pigheaded husband for listening to whoever told him to do this. She waited for the moment she would jump out of the bushes to prevent this from happening. But then she saw a ram not far from her, caught in the thicket by its horns. She got near enough to it so she could wave a stick in it's face and it thrashed and made enough noise that Abraham turned and looked, and realized he could use the ram for his sacrifice. Silently and separately, Abraham and Sarah heaved a sigh of relief, and whispered to themselves, "The Lord does provide."

Either way, the story is about God, not about Abraham or Sarah or Isaac. The story is about God providing for the people God loves so very much, and that Abraham and Sarah were faithful to that love.

And remember, when the tellers of the stories about Jesus tell the stories, they assume that the hearers, the original hearers as well as us, know the Hebrew Scriptures very very well. They assume that we know about the God of creation, who blesses the creation, who loves the creation, and who provides for the creation. So, it stands to reason, that when we hear the stories about Jesus, we already know that the nature of God is to love and provide for the creation.

So in Matthew’s gospel today we hear Jesus say to the disciples as part of their sending out instructions, “Anyone who accepts what you do, accepts me, the One who sent you. Anyone who accepts what I do accepts my Father, who sent me. Accepting a messenger of God is as good as being God's messenger. Accepting someone's help is as good as giving someone help. This is a large work I've called you into, but don't be overwhelmed by it. It's best to start small. Give a cool cup of water to someone who is thirsty, for instance. The smallest act of giving or receiving makes you a true apprentice. You won't lose out on a thing."

Matthew’s gospel and the story of Abraham and Sarah remind me of one of those email stories that gets forwarded. I’m going to tell you this one today, because it makes me think, well that could never happen, at the same time as I think well of course it could never happen if I never think about the smallest act of giving or receiving.

The story goes like this. A young man had been to Tuesday night Bible Study. They had talked about how God loves and provides. The young man couldn't help but wonder, "Does God still provide, like God provided for Abraham and Sarah and Isaac?"

It was about ten o'clock when the young man started driving home. Sitting in his car, he just began to pray, "God. I will do my best to serve your wishes." As he drove down the main street of his town, he had the strangest thought, to stop and buy a gallon of milk. He shook his head and said out loud, "God is that you?" He didn't get a reply and started on toward home.

But again, the thought was there, "Buy a gallon of milk." The young man thought about how he'd heard that not all those spoken to recognized God's quiet voice inside of one's mind. Then he said, "Okay, God, in case that is you, I will buy the milk." It didn't seem like too hard a request to fulfill. He could always use the milk himself if nothing else. So he stopped and purchased the gallon of milk and started off toward home.

As he passed Seventh Street, he again felt the urge, "Turn down that street." "This is crazy," he thought and drove on past the intersection. Again, he felt that he should turn down Seventh Street. At the next intersection, he turned back and headed down Seventh. Half jokingly, he said out loud, "Okay, God, I will."

He drove several blocks, when suddenly, he felt like he should stop. He pulled over to the curb and looked around. He was in a semi-commercial area of town. It wasn't the best but it wasn't the worst of neighborhoods either. The businesses were closed and most of the houses looked dark like the people were already in bed. Again, he sensed something, "Go and give the milk to the people in the house across the street." The young man looked at the house. It was dark and it looked like the people were either gone or they were already asleep.

He started to open the door and then sat back in the car seat. "God, this is insane. Those people are asleep and if I wake them up, they are going to be mad and I will look stupid." Again, he felt like he should go and give the milk. Finally, he opened the car door, "Okay God, if this is you, I will go to the door and I will give them the milk. If you want me to look like a crazy person, okay. I want to do as you wish. I guess that will count for something, but if they don't answer right away, I'm outta here."

He walked across the street and rang the bell. He could hear some noise inside. A man's voice yelled out, "Who is it? What do you want?" Then the door opened before the young man could get away. The man was standing there in his jeans and t-shirt. "What is it?"

The young man thrust out the gallon of milk. "Here, I brought this to you," he said nervously. The man took the milk and rushed down a hallway. Then from down the hall came a woman carrying the milk toward the kitchen. The man was following her holding a baby. The baby was crying. The man had tears streaming down his face.

The man began speaking and half crying, "We were just praying. We had some big bills this month and we ran out of money. We didn't have any milk for our baby. I was just praying and asking God to show me how to get some milk." His wife in the kitchen yelled out, "I asked Him to send an Angel with some milk. Are you an Angel?"

In response to hearing this, the young man reached into his wallet and pulled out all the money he had on him and put in the man's hand. He turned and walked back toward his car. He knew that God still answers prayers and that God loves and provides.

Now there are all sorts of theological holes in this story, and all sorts of reasons why this could never happen. The biggest reason it could never happen is because we don’t often let ourselves give a cool cup of water when it is needed, or even harder, to receive the help that we need. But the point is that God loves us, God gives us all we need, and we find ourselves in places all the time where we can be God’s hands and God’s heart.

There have been about 1500 young Episcopalians gathered in St. Paul for the last week at the Episcopal Youth Event. The theme of EYE this year has been all about mission. They built a Habitat for Humanity House, our kids served a meal at First Nations Kitchen in Minneapolis. I've been watching the tweets and I've been seeing such excitement about being Episcopalians, and about the work that many young people are being called to do. I'm also seeing that that looks very different
from what those of us who have been around church block a few times are used to.

We need to act on God’s love for us; we need to not be afraid of the dark, or of the stranger. Instead we need to act boldly as agents of God’s new creation. We need to bring to all we meet the hope of new life, the hope that life always springs out of death. We need to receive that hope from others,
as they remind us that we are God’s beloved, the delight of God’s life. As they remind us that Love wins.

Matthew’s gospel today tells us that whether we give or receive, and even whether we believe or not,
God loves and God provides, and we will be transformed by the work of service that we do. We will be changed by the people whose paths we cross, and we will show forth God’s love alive and well in the world.

The Day of Pentecost Yr A

We tell each other stories all the time. We tell stories that are funny and that are sad, we tell stories to entertain and to inform. Some of our stories are great and some are pathetic. By telling our stories we come to understand ourselves better, and we come to know each other better. And although some can tell a mighty fine story, none of our stories are as good as the one we share together. That is the story that Love wins. And that story goes like this. God, who is love, who is creator of all that is seen and unseen, who promised to be in relationship with creation, who became human, who lived and loved and suffered and died, who rose from the dead and gives you and me the gift of new life and the spirit, that God, loves us absolutely and abundantly. And God wants us to love God back by loving each other, by loving ourselves even when we believe we are unlovable, and by loving those who seem outside the possibility of our love.

This is a story that is in process. It is a story that began with the dawning of time and will continue until the fulfillment of all time. It is a story that lives deep within our hearts and our minds. It is the story that gives you and me our identity, it tells us who we are and to whom we are related. Your story, my story, our story, belong within the story that Love wins. It is a story in which we are brought out of fear into confidence. It is a story that brings us from old creation to new creation. We move from a self-centered story to God-centered story. It is the story that transforms us. It is indeed the greatest story ever told.

The Day of Pentecost is an important event in this story. The setting of the story is The Festival of Weeks, a joyous celebration of the spring harvest. Jewish people from all over Israel and many foreign lands came to Jerusalem. Peter and the rest of the disciples were at the Temple bright and early. The day was probably very still, since Jerusalem summers are not windy. The huge crowd at the Temple by 8 or 9 a.m. expected nothing unusual. But . . . suddenly there came a sound from heaven as of a rushing mighty wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting! Then divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them and a tongue rested on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability. As the story is told, this event happened on the fiftieth day after the resurrection of Jesus, therefore we have Pentecost, meaning the fiftieth day.

The Holy Spirit is God's gift of presence, and that gift of presence happened, is happening, and will continue to happen. The Holy Spirit is God's gift of assurance, that God is with us and always will be with us. The Holy Spirit is God's gift of wisdom, of knowledge, of faith, of healing, of discernment, God's gift of the Holy Spirit is wide and broad and diverse. As the story is told, the Holy Spirit can be seen and heard.

It is said that Pentecost is the birth of the church. It is a new chapter in this sacred story of which we are a part. Today we observe Pentecost as all of that, we observe Pentecost as we give thanks for God's gift of spirit, in and through and among us, we give thanks for God's gift of the church, which is one way we express our relationship with God, and God expresses relationship with us. I think the challenge of Pentecost is to not let it get caught in a one day observance and to not make it about individual gifts. The Holy Spirit is clearly about the story we share together.

The challenge of Pentecost is to let it, along with incarnation, resurrection, and ascension, narrate our life, change our life, transform our life. The challenge is to find ourselves in the story of God's abundant and amazing love for all people at all times and in all places.

How does God's love, God's life, God's spirit include each and every one of us? If indeed Love wins, and I believe with all my heart, my soul, and my life, that it does, how does that transform my story, and your story? Abbi Van Vliet has wondered out loud with me what it would be like if we, all of us here at St. Andrew's would tell our stories about what we believe. I think we would be transformed, I think we are being transformed. What is your story that brings you here today, to this place of spirit, of love, of bread and wine, of communion, of brokeness and of healing and forgiveness? What is your story that brings you to faith and to doubt? Your story is part of the story that Love wins, your story is part of the story of Pentecost, your story is part of the story of the church, in all it's glory and with all it's warts. What is your story? It is part of God's story.

You see, all of it is about God's story that has the power to change our lives, and is changing our lives. God's story of Love, and life and suffering and pain and joy, and wandering in the wilderness erecting idols, tearing down those idols and loving one another and loving God back in the midst of our very imperfect lives, that is all happening here now, through the power of the spirit.

And now I am going to tell some of your stories, even though they are not my stories to tell.

You are a young married couple, this chapter of your life is just beginning to be told, you know God's love in your lives, and you want to be able to express that with each other and especially with the new lives you have brought into this world. You come to this place, because you see joy on the faces of those who love God back, and you want to be a part of that.

You are in the middle of your life, your story is already well into the middle chapters, you have raised your children, sent them out into the world loved and cared for, and you are excited and anxious to discover what all of that means for you. You come here, because here you know that there are people who love God back.

You find yourself single in the middle of your life, your story too is in the middle chapters, but nothing like the way you thought it would go when you were in the early chapters. You continue to search for meaning, you continue to find your way among the missteps and mistakes you have made. You know that you must return to others the kind of help you received along the way. You come to this place, searching for something, and what you find here is people who love God back.

You are seeing the fulfillment of your life, the end chapters are being written. You look back to the early chapters with love and longing, you look to the middle chapters with nostalgia, you live in the loneliness of life without your partner, you wonder where the time went. You give of your time and your talent as a volunteer at the hospital, or building houses, or through the schools. You come to this place for comfort, belonging, stability, and what you find here is people who love God back.

This is Pentecost, this is church, this is Holy Spirit, people who love God back.

7 Easter Yr A

I have a very fond memory of teaching at Ascension School in North Minneapolis, on the Feast of the Ascension, which is 40 days after Easter, and usually fell near the last Thursday of the school year. We celebrated the Ascension just this past Thursday. We would spend the whole day playing games inside and outside, concluding the day with mass, and then releasing piles of red balloons. It was a glorious day for everyone, and although it was a day free from the rigors of school, we pointed the children to the glory of God seen and experienced in play and in one another. It was an opportunity to look through the ordinary to see the extraordinary.

Looking through the ordinary to the extraordinary, to the glory of God, is what an icon is. An icon is a picture, image, or representation through which we may gain a glimpse of the holy, the glory of God. However, icon is used is popular parlance in ways that defy this traditional meaning of the word. Sports figures are called icons, I remember Princess Diana being called an icon, and the word is thrown around in the world of advertising quite a bit. Ronald McDonald, The Green Giant, Betty Crocker, The Energizer Bunny, Aunt Jemima, Tony the Tiger, and my favorite, The Pillsbury Doughboy are all icons in the advertising world. Although they may be memorable, even cute and fun, I'm not convinced they are that through which we may see a glimpse of the holy. However, I suppose that depends on your take on the holy.

The story of the ascension, this story we have before us today, help us to glimpse the glory of God, like icons help us to glimpse the holy. And these stories bring the Incarnation full circle. God gave up all power and came into this world in the flesh, as one of us, fully human. That is the incarnation. That is God with us. Jesus lived, and loved, as you and I live and love. Jesus died, as you and I die, however the circumstances of Jesus’ death are certainly different than the circumstances of our deaths, most of us are not put to death because of the way we live our lives. The stories we have heard this Eastertide are stories that attest to the resurrection of Jesus, the absolutely new life that God accomplished and continues to accomplish in Jesus. This story of the ascension tells us that Jesus returned to God to glorify God, and so that we may know God, and in knowing God, we may have eternal life, life right here and right now that is absolutely new and different and life with God that is new and different than the life that we experience now.

This is the reality of what God did, and continues to do in Jesus. God came to us to be known, and to know God transforms us and introduces us to a different quality of living. It is this that our gospel in John shows us today.

In a wonderful little book called Plan B, Further thoughts on faith, by Anne Lamott is a series of essays, reflections really, on faith and family and politics. There is one essay in it called holding on, in which Anne tells the story about insisting that her teenage son attend church with her. She writes, “why do I make him go? Because I want him to… We live in bewildering, drastic times, and a little spiritual guidance never killed anyone. I want him to see the people who love me when I felt most unlovable… I want him to see their faces…” She continues, “there are worse things for kids than to have to spend time with people who love God. Teenagers who do not go to church are adored by God, but they don’t get to meet some of the people who love God back. Learning to love back is the hardest part of being alive.”

God came to us to be known, and to know God transforms us. See, God loves us whether or not we love God back. God adores us whether or not we care. But God wants us to know about that, God wants us to know how much we are loved, so God came to show us, that we may be transformed by that love. How do we know God? How are we transformed? How is God glorified? By learning to love back.

In the midst of our own disappointments, we are transformed by loving back. In the midst of our own pain, we are transformed by loving back. In the midst of our own stubbornness, we are transformed by loving back. When we hurt others, we are transformed by loving back. When we overuse, when we overconsume, we are transformed by loving back.

When it feels like we are defeated, when it feels like we have nothing left, God continues to love us, and we are transformed by loving back. When it feels like no one likes us, when it feels like we don’t fit in, when it feels like everyone else is going a different direction, God continues to love us, and we are transformed by loving back.

When we love God back, we witness to the fact that it isn’t about any one of us anyway. It’s about God, and it is about God’s relationship with us, and our relationship with one another. That’s the point that Anne Lamott makes in her essay about making her son go to church, she wants him to be a part of a group of people who love God back, who show that in their worship, in their music, in their Sunday school, and in the way they treat each other and in the way they treat people who are not members of their church. In how they feed the hungry, how they clothe the naked, how they put the last first, and the first last.

Loving God back is not necessarily about any one of us individually, although we can love God back as individuals. Loving God back is really a community endeavor. The God who loves and adores each and every one of us is a very personal God, we know that because God came to be one of us. But our response to God is not private, it is communal and therefore public. Contributing money to feeding the hungry is very important, and yet when we work together to eliminate poverty we are able to transform our lives together. Giving our second and third jackets to Coats for Kids is very important, and yet working together protect the most vulnerable among us will transform our lives and the system we live within.

The gospel of John not only is about this circle of incarnation, life, death and resurrection, and ascension, it is also about unity. Jesus’ desire is that we may be one as Jesus and God are one. Living a life in Christ is not an individual endeavor. Responding to God’s amazing love for us is not an individual endeavor. It is a community project, in it we are one body, and by it we are made one body. Unity is not the same as agreement, unity is about the body of Christ. As people of the body of Christ, we come from diverse backgrounds we come from different places, we arrive together with a whole different plate from which to eat, and, we are transformed into a living breathing organism that takes care of the least of these, that works for justice, that works for peace.

We are transformed into a living breathing organism that is greater than any one of us by ourselves, and capable of living out God’s love for this world. God came to be one of us to show us the way, Jesus lived and died, rose into new life and joined his father to show us the way. Jesus left with us a gift …. Ah but that’s next week.

God loves and adores you, Thanks be to God. Amen

6 Easter Yr A

Each one of us lives in a web of relationship. We are mothers, daughters, siblings, parents, grandparents, grandchildren, friend. In each of these relationships there is a degree of intimacy, isolation, and alienation. I want you to imagine today your most intimate relationships. The relationships in which you are free to be fully who God created you to be. These are the relationships in which when apart, the beloved is on your mind and in your heart, and when together, you may sit in companionable silence. This relationship may be your spouse, or maybe a child, or maybe a parent, or even a friend. This kind of relationship is a glimpse of what the gospel writer John tries to show us when he uses the verb abide. John writes, "you know him, because he abides with you, and he will be in you." "And then, you will know that I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you." The verb abide describes the mutual indwelling of God, Jesus, and the disciple whom he loves. This evokes a particular Johannine sense of divine presence and companionship. What John shows us is a picture of intimacy, and that picture sits next to a picture of transcendence on our mantel, and together give us a glimpse of the totality of the love that God has for us.
 
Before the cloud, before google docs, before apps, before the internet, even before every household had books, before every one in a civilized society could read, was art. In frescos on church walls, in stained glass, on massive ceilings, were the stories of our faith. The artwork showed us who we are and to whom we are related. In those days, there was a painting of Mary, nursing her son Jesus. In fact, there were many depictions of Mary nursing her son Jesus. This is an intimate view of mother and child, of savior of the world and the one who bore him. So intimate indeed, that it is very very rare for us in this time and place to even see it. As women's bodies were objectified, these intimate depictions showing the nourishment and nurturing that Jesus received at his mother's bosom were removed. In it's place was the violent image of the cross. But it is the nourishing and nurturing image that John's gospel evokes for us, the intimate incarnated image in which we are in the father and the father is in us. It is this image of wholeness, not of brokenness, the image of interdependence, not isolation, the image of healing not of fragmentation, that abides in John's gospel.
 
The gospel passage we read today is a piece of John that follows after Jesus telling the disciples about the new commandment, that you love one another, just as I have loved you. And that when they do so, everyone will know that they are Jesus' disciples. And that follows after the last supper of John's gospel, and at that last supper, Jesus washes the disciples feet. Jesus' disciples, you and me, take Jesus into our bodies. Jesus' disciples, you and me, have our feet washed and wash other's feet. Jesus indeed abides in us, if that's not intimate, I don't know what is.
 
All of this conversation in John's gospel takes place at the table in the upper room on the night of Jesus' betrayal. So in the context of a meal, in the context of foot washing, is this intimacy that is nourishing and nurturing. The intimacy of abiding is enlivening and sustaining. It calls us to be fully present. It calls us to be fully in the "here" not somewhere else, not "there", not in the future, not in the past, not somewhere else, but right here. In fact, God can't bear to be without us, not one second, God tells us that our "here" is all right here, the way is less about where you are going, than what you are being. Jesus says I'm right here, Jesus says I am the resurrection AND the life, I AM the way. Right here right now, and yet the disciples will abandon the here because here is so very difficult. They and we have become so good at "there" and not very good at "here". They and we arrive at the "Heavenly Holiday Inn" without ever having really made the journey.
 
The word Advocate in John means the Spirit, and it is in this place of being fully present that the Spirit finds us. As we pay attention in the here, in the present, and not so much to what the reward is at the end, whenever that end is, last week, next year, or the undetermined future, we are are thrust into the intimacy of relationship. We look the others who are here with us on this journey in the eye, we sit with them in these pews, we stand next to them in the grocery line, we see them sleeping under bridges, we serve them dinner at the Mission, we visit them in the hospital, we disagree with them at the dinner table and across our fences. And in them, like in every one of us, abides Jesus, God, Spirit. Being here, means acknowledging that truth, and for many that is so very hard.
 
What's so hard about being fully and completely here? What's so hard about the journey? It's the difference between entering into what is right in front of you, the immediacy and the intimacy of the incarnation, which is sometimes mighty scary, or keeping that incarnation cradled in the manger, never growing, never changing, never challenging, never imagining, never redeeming. It's the difference between worshipping Jesus in the beauty and the wonder of church, and looking into the eyes of the people you meet and serving Jesus right here. Maybe it's the difference between talking about all the different ways to pray and actually sitting in the quiet and centering yourself and listening to the still small voice. Maybe it's the difference between talking about feeding people, clothing people, and loving people, and actually doing it. Here, not there. Here, not then.    
 
I am actually not sure what it looks like to live in the here, not there, because it is a challenge for me as well. I am distracted by what's next, what's new, what's down the road. I think that's partly why I love to read science fiction, it's often all about what may be, albeit a judgement on what is. I have had to be very intentional about sitting still and listening, I have been much more comfortable on the move, fidgeting when asked to sit for long periods, getting up and pacing when I have to listen to long lectures, much longer than this however.
 
But, being in the here, being in this intimate and incarnational relationship with Jesus, God, Spirit, is transformative. At the clergy retreat I attended in Arizona a couple of weeks back, one of the fellows talked about "making camp." I realized that is just what I must do, what we must do. Making camp is about being fully present, it is about being here, not there, it is about seeing exactly what and who surrounds us, it is about giving thanks for that and not lamenting where we aren't or what we don't have, and when we make camp, God knows where we are, and we are transformed. Making camp is about gathering around the campfire, or the dinner table, roasting marshmallows, breaking bread together, sitting in companionable silence, making room for the Spirit to abide in us. And as the Spirit abides in us, we are transformed, we look more and more like God's image, we treat others and serve others with mercy and compassion.

2 Easter Yr A

We have told the ancient stories of our faith, we have lit the new fire of Easter, we have baptized, we have proclaimed the Alleluias! and we, the remnant, the faithful ones come here today in confidence that the Christian life is more than the high of resurrection. We come here today in expectation that there is more to the story, that God’s glory is not just at the mountaintop, but God's glory is encountered along the way as well. Now is the reality of the Christian journey, now is the time we live in fear and in hope. To borrow another journey metaphor, now is when the rubber meets the road. If indeed we are people of story, which I do believe we are, how are we resurrected and how are we agents of resurrection? How then is the Easter story being written into our lives? We are now invited to live a whole new life, what is that story about?

Jesus takes all of the guilt, the shame, blame, anxiety, all of the pain and suffering, all of the isolation and alienation onto himself. Our new life begins with the sure and certain truth that we are loved. That in spite of whatever has gone horribly wrong deep in our hearts and has spread to every corner of the world, in spite of our missing the mark, in spite of our failures, rebellion, and hard hearts, in spite of what's been done to us or what we've done, God has made peace with us. As Jesus said, "It is finished."

This is the work that Jesus does on the cross, and in the resurrection, new life begins. So Thomas, the twin, reflects all our humanity, all of that doubt, all of that need for clarity and certainty. Thomas needs to see, to feel, to touch, Thomas just can't take his friends' word for it. Thomas' story is our story too, at least Thomas' story is much like my story. Jesus comes and stands among them. Jesus says, see me, feel me, touch me, this is real. All of these wounds are your wounds, they are the wounds of humanity, they are the wounds perpetrated by all the lying, the apathy, the greed, the mistrust. We heard that story during our amazing worship of Holy Week and Easter, beginning with the disturbing music of the Service of Darkness, as we passed by the unusual passion story of Good Friday, and as we traced the ancient stories of our faith during the Easter Vigil. The reality is that Jesus takes all of that out with him, and leaves us with new life, hope, grace, peace.

Imagine Jesus' friends huddled in that locked room that day, they were afraid. Fear prevents people from seeing. Fear moves us to grasp for the secure rather than reach for the real. And what is real in this story? Jesus' presence is real. Jesus' wounds are real. Jesus' peace is real. And Jesus leaves us with the real presence of the Spirit. Do not be afraid, we heard at the incarnation and at the resurrection, be filled with the spirit. The spirit that teaches us about forgiveness.

How is this Easter story being written into your life? This story that teaches us about what is real. This story that shows us that what looks like loss and failure to the world is counted as victory in the kingdom. This story that we do not need to live in fear, this story in which love wins.

You see, this Easter story, being written into each of our lives is the real story. Through Thomas each of us gets to see, to feel, to touch what is real, and what is real is the amazing love that God has for each and every one of us, and for all of us together. Sometimes we succumb to the lie that this life is about getting as much as we want, or doing as we please, without any thought on the effect that has on those around us, or even on the living, moving, breathing earth upon which we live. No, reality is that we are all connected, we are all related. Reality is that what I do, what you do, affects the web that surrounds us. That is where the rubber meets the road. That is where we are agents of resurrection. That is where the Easter story continues to be written.

What God does in the resurrection matters. And it matters because of Thomas, we do indeed encounter Jesus at every turn. You show forth the reality that Love wins. You show forth the reality that death does not have the final word. What you do matters to the world and to the kingdom. What you do, what we do has an effect on the world about us, what we do has an effect on the people around us. Like Thomas, we see, feel, touch the pain and suffering of Jesus in our midst. We see our brothers and sisters suffering as the result of natural disasters, tornados and tsunamis. We witness the pain and suffering in our community as the result of poverty. We accompany our friends as they sit with family in hospital and in homes and await death and await healing. We are accompanied by friends who sit in vigil with us. We may be afraid, but instead of being immobilized by that fear, we proclaim by word and example that Jesus is in our midst and that Love wins, that new life is possible now. That's the story we write. That's the story that's true.

Love wins. God brings wholeness and healing to all of creation, including Thomas, and you, and me. God re-members us. God puts us back together. God reconciles us. God restores us. Even when it looks like and feels like everything is falling apart, even when it looks like and feels like failure. Peace be with you is what Jesus says to those gathered in that room. Peace be with you, you are now reconciled, you have new life.

The story we write is the story that says yes to God. Because, when we say yes to God, when we open ourselves to Jesus' living, giving action the cross, we enter into a way of life. God is the source, the strength, the example, and the assurance that the story of death and rebirth, new life, is the way into the only kind of life that actually sustains and inspires. Loose your life to find it.

Let your life, let your Easter story show the world that Love wins. Each time you put your finger into the wound of another, be the agent of resurrection, be the bringing of hope, of new life. Each time you see the pain in the world, be the the one who responds with mercy, compassion, and love. Each time you hear words of derision, words that bully and hurt, speak instead words of mercy, of compassion and of love. Each time you encounter fear, fear of death, fear of change, fear of the other, fear of not having enough, remember that Love wins over fear every time.

Easter Vigil/Easter

This is the night, when you brought our forebears, the children of Israel, out of bondage in Egypt, and led them through the Red Sea on dry land. This is the night, when all who believe in Christ are delivered from the gloom of sin, and are restored to grace and holiness of life. This is the night, when Christ broke the bonds of death and hell, and rose victorious from the grave, we heard Christie sing. We rehearsed the stories of our faith, the stories of God’s activity in the life of God’s people, the story of reconciliation, restoration, resurrection, in the midst of wandering, whining, and wailing. Bones that join together and wind and spirit to give them new life. Water that cleanses, water that hydrates, water that is poured over us.

On this night, death does not have the final word. We have kept vigil, we have listened to litanies and prayers, we have sat in the silence and wept, we have been to the cross with Jesus, we have recognized our complicity in the whole mess, we have held one another’s hand, we have wondered whether we are worth all this pain and trouble, we have told the stories of who we are and whose we are, and we, like the women who go to the tomb to see Jesus, are afraid.

At the two pivotal times of the church year, Incarnation and Resurrection, the angel says, “Do not be afraid.” "Do not be afraid; I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. He is not here; for he has been raised!” Indeed this is good news, received with fear and great joy. What are we to do with this Good News, that death does not have the final word? The women go and tell the others. Come and see, go and tell. This is not a secret to keep, it is Good News to tell, God has raised Jesus to new life, and God will raise you to new life too. It is transforming news.

On this night, we are surprised by joy, we are surprised by hope, Love wins. God acts decisively on behalf of all creation, on behalf of the Peters, and the Judas’, the Roman soldiers and the apathetic bystanders, the Mary’s and the Martha’s, you and me. And we must go and tell. Every story we tell points us to God who loves creation so very much, that God is willing to take extreme measures to show us that Love wins, that death does not triumph.

Come and see, go and tell. We see Jesus. Jesus who was born into this world, our world, born in a barn, to parents of questionable status. Jesus, who taught in the temple when he was twelve. Jesus who ate with tax collectors and sinners, hung around with women and children. Jesus who fed the hungry, five thousand at a time. Jesus, who spoke with the woman at the well, who healed the blind man, who raised his friend Lazarus from the dead. Jesus, who restored the marginalized people to status, who literally gave new life where there was no life at all. Come and see.

Incarnation shows us that God comes into our time and walks this road with us. Jesus’ life, and love, pain and sorrow, death and resurrection, show us that it is not God’s purpose to remove sadness, loneliness, pain and sorrow from the world, but to show us a new way to live. Resurrection shows us that God actively works in human history because God never gives up on the creation God loves so very much.

This Easter story, this story that Love wins, that death does not triumph, changes the world and must therefore change us. Do not be afraid the angel says. I think the angel tells us not to be afraid, because we are so afraid of change, and this will change you. God is doing something new through Jesus, and God wants us to be a part of it. God adds a twist to the old stories with Easter. With Jesus, God says there is no more business as usual. God’s kingdom, that begins with Easter, which begins with resurrection, is not like the world. Love wins, hate, greed, envy, oppression, lies and apathy, have no place in this new kingdom. The first will be last, the last will be first.

Jesus calls disciples, the ones who followed him while he walked this journey on earth, and you and me, Jesus’ disciples today, to teach us who we are, to teach us about being citizens of the new kingdom. We are to be growing in generosity, forgiveness, honesty, courage, truth telling, and responsibility, this is a change from the ways of the world, do not be afraid.

And on this most holy night, we renew our promise to grow into the full stature of Christ, as we stand with Rex and Amy, and Cadence’s godparents, as they make these promises as well. Our baptismal promises that help us to grow in generosity, forgiveness, honesty, courage, truth telling, and responsibility. We enter the waters of baptism; we die with Jesus and are brought out of death to new life with Jesus.

Love wins. All of creation is joined to God. Go and tell. Do not be afraid.
Alleluia, Christ is risen. The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia.

Good Friday

What is good about Good Friday? I’ve heard people ask this question, I’ve asked it myself, but I’ve never really seriously thought about it. What is good about Good Friday? I think what is good about Good Friday is that it shows us something about holy dying.

In our fast paced, gotta have it now, there’s an app for that, high tech lives, the worst possible thing to happen is death, or sickness. Our language reflects that. We fight and battle with cancer, we overcome disability, we rarely speak of death as a part of life, we rarely speak of sickness as the opportunity for life in a new way. Good Friday shows us that death is dying to that which is killing us, resurrection only and always happens after death.
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 effect in us the new life that God promises.

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 is 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 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 the 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 be macabre, 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 the foot washing and holy communion of last evening, even the joyous resurrection we will celebrate together tomorrow evening, doesn’t take away the reality of the muck and mess in which we live. We carry these burdens, 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.

You see, what Jesus does at this moment is to let evil wreak its fury upon him; he negates its power and takes it out of the world with him. 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. On the cross, Jesus ultimately collects all of the violence of this world, takes it and holds it so that the stream of hate and hurt will flow no farther. Jesus takes in all of our pain and our suffering, all of our betrayal and lies; all of our isolation and sadness, and Jesus contains it. Jesus’ life and death says to our world, it all stops here. It all stops with me. It is indeed, Good Friday.

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 transformed.

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. Isolation and alienation have no meaning in Jesus’ Kingdom; relationship and connection are gifts.

Jesus does not take away pain and sorrow and isolation. The reality that you and I know, is that to be human is to feel, to feel pain, to feel joy, to feel isolation, to feel intimacy. And, being human means being born to die, and only a God who is willing to share that can actually help us face our own mortality and that of those we love.

Death is real and grief hurts and sometimes we just have to sit in the silence and cry and wait. That is what this Good Friday is about. We have some experience in this. It is very like when we sit with our loved ones in hospital, as the result of illness or accident, waiting, quite unsure of what to do or what to think, silence and sadness and tears, are our only activity. Holy Dying.

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 yet, as we sit in the silence to cry and to wait, we sit with this company. The disciples sat together in the silence to cry and to wait. Our only comfort right now resides with one another, with these relationships to each other and to God. Hold one another, grieve with one another, and remember, give one another the gift of hope. The cross does become the place where transformation and holy dying is possible.