Unraveled: Unraveling Doubt

It was still the first day of the week. That evening, while the disciples were behind closed doors because they were afraid of the Jewish authorities, Jesus came and stood among them. He said, “Peace be with you.” After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. When the disciples saw the Lord, they were filled with joy. Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father sent me, so I am sending you.” Then he breathed on them and said, “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive anyone’s sins, they are forgiven; if you don’t forgive them, they aren’t forgiven.”

Thomas, the one called Didymus, one of the Twelve, wasn’t with the disciples when Jesus came. The other disciples told him, “We’ve seen the Lord!”

But he replied, “Unless I see the nail marks in his hands, put my finger in the wounds left by the nails, and put my hand into his side, I won’t believe.”

After eight days his disciples were again in a house and Thomas was with them. Even though the doors were locked, Jesus entered and stood among them. He said, “Peace be with you.” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here. Look at my hands. Put your hand into my side. No more disbelief. Believe!”

Thomas responded to Jesus, “My Lord and my God!”

Jesus replied, “Do you believe because you see me? Happy are those who don’t see and yet believe.” --John 20:19-29 (CEB)

Grace, mercy and peace to you from God our Creator, Jesus Christ our Redeemer, and the Holy Spirit our Sustainer. Amen.

Where do I begin? I have to admit to you that, as I’ve been working and living through this past week, there are a lot of things I have felt called to preach today. This may be a longer sermon because of it. Let’s hope it makes some sense by the end.

I want to begin with this idea of how we respond when the unimaginable happens. Perhaps that unimaginable thing is happening to us personally. Perhaps it is something that happens to us collectively. I’m thinking today about the people of eastern Kentucky. 

If you’ve watched any of the videos of the flooding or the damage in the aftermath of the floods, or considered the loss of life, this was for our neighbors one of those “unimaginable” events. I’m one of two co-coordinators for disaster response in our synod. (I used to say I was a co-disaster response coordinator, but decided I needed to change that wording a bit.) 

Whenever a disaster hits, there are organizations, both in-state and from across the country, who begin to meet on Zoom to coordinate the volunteer response. These groups are called VOAD groups - Voluntary Organizations Active in Disaster. Every state has a VOAD group. There’s a national group, too. So, when a disaster hits, all of the VOAD partners plus all of the state and county emergency management teams jump on daily calls to, first, understand the need and, then, to coordinate the response. Lutheran Disaster Response - our churchwide organization that works through the affected synod - is one of those partners. And because Lutheran Disaster Response operates primarily through synods, I am typically on those calls, too.

When the floods hit a week ago in the eastern part of the state, the VOAD organizations and EMS teams took to Zoom. We typically aren’t part of this initial crisis response, but work more longer term. Yet, it’s important to know the extent of the disaster, so we all jump on the calls

You can imagine what we heard. Stories shared that most of us, including the EMS teams, could never have imagined would have happened. The devastation, the loss of life, the grief and heartbreak caused by these floods where streams and rivers, in some cases, were 20 feet above “normal” flood stage.

As I sat and listened in this past Monday, there was one need that stood out to me. A young woman working for a housing development corporation in Owsley Co. - one of the poorest counties in Kentucky. This young woman, Cassie Hudson, made a plea for $50,000 cash. It’s not often that people just blurt out the need for cash on these calls. Usually requests are for volunteers and supplies. Not just cash. But, for Cassie - like for Thomas in our text today - there was a need to be direct. To be honest. To risk. To be vulnerable. To see the evidence. To find the hope.

Isn’t that what Thomas is doing in our text today? Wasn’t he just verbalizing what every other disciple had been thinking - at least before Jesus appeared to all of them (except for Thomas) as they waited in fear in the upper room that Easter evening? A locked room that didn’t stop Jesus from showing up. And who, when he did show up, spoke a word of peace to them. Twice. Peace be with you. Peace. As in shalom. Meaning wholeness. Belonging. Community. 

But, Thomas wasn’t there. He wasn’t there to receive this word of peace from Jesus, literally in the flesh. Have you ever wondered where Thomas was? Why he wasn’t there? I have to wonder if, so devastated by Jesus’ death - by the unimaginable - he might have self-isolated. Caught up in his own grief. Grief that had turned him into a doubter. A skeptic. A cynic. Even a truth-teller. “Unless I see…I won’t believe,” Thomas says, even after the other disciples have witnessed to him. Who believed only when they saw! Who, in that moment, experienced their own Pentecost, as Jesus breathed his Spirit on them and sent them out.

Then, for Thomas, Jesus shows up. Again. And offers him exactly what he asks for. Put your finger here. Look at my hands. Put your hand into my side. Touch me. See that I am real. And believe. No longer is Thomas the cynic. No longer does Thomas need to touch Jesus. To touch the wounds on his hands. Or on his side. Simply being in the presence of this resurrected Jesus has restored his hope. Restored his faith. Restored his joy.

We never read of Thomas again in scripture. It might be easy to imagine that he simply faded away. Except, he didn’t. Thomas would go on to found the early Church in India. To build communities of Jesus’ followers that exist today - St. Thomas Christians, they call themselves. One of whom is an ELCA pastor, who serves just down the road from us in Corydon.

Because, like the other apostles, Thomas took seriously the divine authority given him by Christ. The authority for his own mission that can only be understood in light of the mission of Christ. A mission of self-giving love. A mission evidenced and fulfilled by Jesus’ life and death. A mission to which each and everyone of us are called, under the authority of Christ through our baptism in the Holy Spirit. Just as Thomas and the rest of the disciples were called, then sent. Thomas. Truth-teller that he was.

So, who is the Thomas in our midst? What is the truth here that no one is naming? That no one is vulnerable enough to speak out loud? Something that we all see, but that no one will say? 

Perhaps, one of those truths is that church as we’ve known it is no more. Our numbers, like virtually every other church in this country, are unraveling. Drastically. Something that is not your fault, or mine. But, something that has been trending in our nation for well over 50 years. We just - lucky or not - happen to be living at the end of it. In the midst of this liminal time.

What will the future bring? What will happen to the church? I daresay, none of us know. But, here’s the thing. When that unimaginable thing happens, whatever it is - Christ will be there. Breaking through the closed doors of our building, the closed doors of our hearts, the closed doors of our minds, saying to us - as he said to Thomas… Put. Touch. See. Believe. You and I will not do this new thing. God will do this new thing. And, God in Christ through the Holy Spirit will then send us into mission. Whatever that mission will be.

What’s an example of that mission? A possibility? Here’s a real-life, honest-to-God example of a mission God sends us on - of what it means to invite others to put, to touch, to see, to believe.

I’d like to read from two emails I received this week from that young woman I mentioned at the outset - from Cassie Hudson, Executive Director of Partnership Housing in Boonesville, KY. 

On Tuesday, she wrote this: "I have 3 small homes to build and a couple small repairs to other homes. I have the contractor willing to build back all of these 3 homes at no cost for his labor, I'm just struggling so bad with money for building materials. Owsley County is the poorest county in KY, finding money is difficult and we just experienced a historical flood in March 2021 which I was very successful in getting everyone homed, homes rebuilt etc. and fully recovered by July 2021, merely 5 months after the flood. This flood happened in a different part of the county and our previous efforts went untouched and I'm so thankful to God for that. Any and all funds no matter the amount is appreciated but I'm needing at least $50,000. Funds are just not coming in like previously, I think its because there has been so many disasters throughout KY since March 2021."

Then, on Thursday, after receiving an email I sent letting her know that Lutheran Disaster Response, because of dollars we and so many others have given - that LDR through our Synod would fully fund her request, plus any additional funds she might need, here’s what she wrote: I am at lost for words.  I can never thank you and everyone involved with.  You have not only took such a worry off of me but you will be able to help these people who can never recover from such devastation.  I'm usually a person with a lot of faith and belief that everything will work out and line up but on Monday evening, my faith was being tested.  I had doubt, I was worried and didn't know how I would pay for the materials to build these homes, but I was building them as I had just dug footers and poured them on one of the homes.  On Tuesday, I threw my doubt out the window that morning and put it in the lords hands.  He placed me here with PH almost 10 years ago to learn housing and to help the people of Owsley County and everything I've accomplished has been because of him, so I knew he wasn't finished with me...and today I receive your email."

Put your finger here. Look at my hands. Put your hand into my side. No more disbelief. Believe! Believe that God is working in our midst. Believe that God will turn our cynicism to hope. Will move us from isolation to community. From disbelief to faith. From fear to joy. So that we might then be like Thomas, like Cassie. To throw our doubt to the wind. And with all the authority of Christ to invite others to put, touch, see, and believe. 

Let us pray: Lover of the poor, defender of the needy, sanctuary of the rejected: for those who suffer injustice today, for men and women who cannot provide food for their families, and for whole communities who fear today and have no hope for tomorrow, we offer the longings of our hearts in prayer. We seek for them, O God, the gifts that are dear to us: food for the table, drink for the soul, shelter in the night and open doors to welcome us in. Amen.

Preached August 7, 2022, at Grace & Glory, Prospect, with Third, Louisville.

Pentecost 9

Readings: John 20:19-29; Psalm 16.

Invitation to Abundant Life: Living in Light

Today and next week, we read two stories back to back that are a study in contrasts. 

Today, we hear about Nicodemus. A man. A Pharisee. A Jewish religious leader. Who comes to meet Jesus at night. Next week, you’ll hear the story of a woman. A Samaritan and an outsider. Who is unnamed. Who meets Jesus at noon - the brightest time of day. The conversation with Nicodemus in this week’s text will last for nine verses. The conversation with the unnamed woman next week will last for twenty-six verses.

But, today, our focus is the first person in this study in contrasts. Nicodemus. We begin today’s reading with the last two verses of last week’s text at the end of chapter 2. In the Greek these verses are much more closely connected to the beginning of the next chapter than they appear in English. They also foreshadow what we will hear today in this story about Nicodemus. So, we begin by reading these transitional verses and continue into chapter 3. We’re reading today in two parts.

While Jesus was in Jerusalem for the Passover Festival, many believed in his name because they saw the miraculous signs that he did. But Jesus didn’t trust himself to them because he knew all people. He didn’t need anyone to tell him about human nature, for he knew what human nature was.

There was a Pharisee named Nicodemus, a Jewish leader. He came to Jesus at night and said to him, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God, for no one could do these miraculous signs that you do unless God is with him.”

Jesus answered, “I assure you, unless someone is born anew, it’s not possible to see God’s kingdom.”

Nicodemus asked, “How is it possible for an adult to be born? It’s impossible to enter the mother’s womb for a second time and be born, isn’t it?”

Jesus answered, “I assure you, unless someone is born of water and the Spirit, it’s not possible to enter God’s kingdom. Whatever is born of the flesh is flesh, and whatever is born of the Spirit is spirit. Don’t be surprised that I said to you, ‘You must be born anew.’ God’s Spirit blows wherever it wishes. You hear its sound, but you don’t know where it comes from or where it is going. It’s the same with everyone who is born of the Spirit.”

Nicodemus said, “How are these things possible?”

“Jesus answered, “You are a teacher of Israel and you don’t know these things? I assure you that we speak about what we know and testify about what we have seen, but you don’t receive our testimony. If I have told you about earthly things and you don’t believe, how will you believe if I tell you about heavenly things? --John 2:23 - John 12 (CEB)

This play of light and darkness, of night and day, is a frequent theme in John. 

Remember the Prologue - “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.” Nicodemus comes in the dark. To come in the dark suggests, in John, one who comes in a state of unbelief. To come in the dark suggests that one neither understands, nor fully believes in who Jesus is.

There’s this back and forth dialogue between Jesus and Nicodemus, who appears to be speaking on behalf of a group, perhaps the rest of the Pharisees. Perhaps the Jewish leaders. It’s not clear in our text. But, he’s come to find out more about Jesus. He asks honest questions. He’s seen the signs. So, he recognizes that this Jesus is one from God. But he misses that this Jesus is God.

Jesus doesn’t really help him out here. Nicodemus takes Jesus literally, when he says that he must be born anew. What? Are you saying I have to be put back in my mother’s womb again? This word in Greek actually has two simultaneous meanings. Born anew - referencing a physical change. And born from above - representing a spiritual change. Nicodemus doesn’t really get it. And Jesus doesn’t really help him out. Our minds immediately go to baptism. But, Nicodemus doesn’t have that connection. He won’t get it. Finishing the conversation with these words, “How is possible?”

It’s at this point that Jesus seems to turn from Nicodemus and address an audience. The pronoun you moves from the singular to the plural. Perhaps his words are for all of the Jewish leaders. Perhaps, his words are for all those who only believe in the signs, who lack a level of faith that leads to a complete change - a rebirth into a new community. And an entirely new way of life. 

Our story continues in verse 13.

No one has gone up to heaven except the one who came down from heaven, the Human One. Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the wilderness, so must the Human One be lifted up so that everyone who believes in him will have eternal life. God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him won’t perish but will have eternal life. God didn’t send his Son into the world to judge the world, but that the world might be saved through him. Whoever believes in him isn’t judged; whoever doesn’t believe in him is already judged, because they don’t believe in the name of God’s only Son.

“This is the basis for judgment: The light came into the world, and people loved darkness more than the light, for their actions are evil. All who do wicked things hate the light and don’t come to the light for fear that their actions will be exposed to the light. Whoever does the truth comes to the light so that it can be seen that their actions were done in God.” --John 3:13-21 (CEB)

In the midst of this, we hear what is likely the most famous verse in scripture. John 3:16. We hear this so often, it’s almost become meaningless to us, doesn’t it? But there are a couple of things to look at more closely here.

First, when we think of the phrase “eternal life”, we often think of unending life, particularly of life after death. Of heaven. But, a better reading of this is abundant life, which is the life God desires for us. Here and now. And in the future. A life of freedom. And of truth. A life that is free from the shame of our own darkness. Those things we keep hidden. Of which we are most ashamed. Our mistakes. How we treat - or mistreat - those we love the most. More broadly, our thirst for power in this world. Our marginalization of people who don’t think like us. Or look like us. Or live like us. 

Then, there’s this word “perish.” It’s in a reflexive voice. Meaning that the subject of this verb is affected by its own action. In other words, the perishing Jesus is talking about in this most famous verse in Scripture is a perishing of our own making. God’s own Son has come to save us from ourselves. Because we would choose to live in darkness. Yet God, through the Holy Spirit works faith in our hearts. Notice I said that the Spirit works faith in us. We don’t have the capacity to choose. It is God at work in us. Yet, we can refuse to receive that faith. To hang onto the darkness in us. And to the darkness of this world. To perish through our own making.

But, here’s the thing. God doesn’t come to us in Jesus to condemn us. Or anyone else.

God’s approach to us is all about love. God does this horrible thing - let’s name it, it is a horrible thing that God is doing. To give up God’s Son to die on the cross. For us. In love. So, that we might experience abundant life. A life of freedom and joy. A life of openness and trust. A life lived in the light and with others living in the light. People whose actions reflect that light.

The Nicodemuses of the world might be able to say all the right things, but until they put their lives on the line for the faith, in John’s gospel, they are still people who “love darkness more than the light.” 

May you and I, born anew and from above by the power of the Holy Spirit. May we, as people of God, be lovers and actors. Not of the darkness. But of the Light. Amen. 

Preached Sunday, January 30, 2022, online with Grace & Glory Lutheran, Prospect, KY, and Third Lutheran, Louisville, KY.

Epiphany 4

Readings: John 3:1-21; Psalm 139:13-18

Rekindling our Faith! Rekindling our Imagination - Part 3

Grace and peace to you from the Triune God: Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer. Amen.

What is your image of God? When I say “God,” what’s the first picture or image that comes to mind?

I had an interesting experience this week at the pantry. Kentucky is an unusual place theologically for me. In Minnesota, it’s easier. For the most part, everyone is either Lutheran or Roman Catholic. And, even if they’re no longer active or don’t attend a church, as you talk to people you still get a sense that the embedded theology - the belief systems that are deeply and almost unconsciously embedded - come from Catholic or Lutheran roots.

Kentucky is different. Here there is more of a hodge-podge of belief systems that come from the traditions of those who emigrated here - such as the Scotch-Irish, who were often Presbyterian. Or the German Lutheran. But, some of the belief systems here seem much more home grown. And that what I ran into this week.

As you know, we’ve been holding a healing service on Wednesday mornings before the start of pantry. In conversation with that group, we decided to add a simple service of holy communion once a month. This week was our first communion service. As it came time to distribute communion, I offered it to one of our pantry regulars and he refused. Which is completely his decision. But, after worship was concluded, he felt the need to explain, I think, his refusal to me. So, he mentioned that he’d grown up as a “hardscrabble Baptist.” A hard scrabble Baptist.

I came to learn that hardscrabble was not simply an adjective describing a tough Baptist life. But, instead, that this was a particular division in the Baptist church - at least according to him - that does not believe in the New Testament. Which explained why he refused communion. And the more we talked, the more I learned that hard scrabble Baptists believe that only the Old Testament, or the Hebrew scriptures, are valid because, as he said, they come from God. Whereas, the New Testament comes from man.

This was a new one for me. Thank you, Kentucky! However, as we spoke, I couldn’t help wondering what his image of God was. Because if one only believes in the God of the first testament - a God that appears to be a pretty angry and violent God (and I have thoughts on that to be shared another time). If he believes in the God of the first testament, what must his image of God be. And, connected with this, how does he find hope?

This is what the writer of Hebrews is up to. Now I haven’t preached the first two sermons in this series to you, so, my apologies if this is at all repetitive. But the community to which the letter to the Hebrews is written is an expatriate community of Greek or Hellenistic Jews. Far from home. Yet, still bound nostalgically to their native land and even to the sacrificial religious system that was still functioning in the temple. Not yet destroyed.

The challenge this Hebrew community of faith was facing was one of apathy. Longing for the religious system of their youth, their faith was becoming empty. People were drifting away. Their congregation was losing its sense of vitality. Gosh, have you ever experienced this?

So, the writer of Hebrews is trying to jump start their imagination. To provide them with different images of Christ. To get their imaginations going and, particularly, to expand their understanding of who Jesus was. And why Jesus mattered.

So, in the first week of our readings, we heard a “high” Christology. That sounded much like the Jesus of John’s gospel. That in former times, God spoke through the prophets. But, that in these times, in this new age, God speaks to us through God’s Son. God’s heir. God’s co-creator. Someone who is the exact imprint of who God is. So that, finally, we begin to truly understand the nature of God.

Then, in the second week, we heard a “lower” Christology. About Jesus as pioneer. Keeping with our Kentucky theme - Jesus as Daniel Boone. Paving the way for us. Going before us. Our brother. Our human brother. Who knows what it is like to live our life. To experience our joys. To weep with us in sadness. To understand us fully. Just as Israel’s high priest understood the Jewish people.

Do you see the skill of the writer? How he seeks to connect Jesus to the religious system the Hebrew community was nostalgic for. A system of sacrifices, led by a human high priest, called and appointed by God to make sacrifices on behalf of the people. Sacrifices that were to atone for the sins of the people.

It is this image - Jesus as high priest - that the writer to the Hebrews expands on in today’s lesson.

Since, then, we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast to our confession. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who in every respect has been tested as we are, yet without sin. Let us therefore approach the throne of grace with boldness, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.

Every high priest chosen from among mortals is put in charge of things pertaining to God on their behalf, to offer gifts and sacrifices for sins. He is able to deal gently with the ignorant and wayward, since he himself is subject to weakness; and because of this he must offer sacrifice for his own sins as well as for those of the people. And one does not presume to take this honor, but takes it only when called by God, just as Aaron was.

So also Christ did not glorify himself in becoming a high priest, but was appointed by the one who said to him,

“You are my Son,
    today I have begotten you”;

as he says also in another place,

“You are a priest forever,
    according to the order of Melchizedek.”

In the days of his flesh, Jesus offered up prayers and supplications, with loud cries and tears, to the one who was able to save him from death, and he was heard because of his reverent submission. Although he was a Son, he learned obedience through what he suffered; and having been made perfect, he became the source of eternal salvation for all who obey him, having been designated by God a high priest according to the order of Melchizedek. -Hebrews 4:14-5:10 NRSV

So what was a high priest? Because we hear the title “priest” different images may come to mind. Some good. Some, perhaps, not so good. But the high priest was not simply like a priest or a pastor in today’s church. The high priest in Israel had a specific role. And identity. The high priest was called specifically by God. Set apart. From generations of other high priests. To act in a specific role. One in charge of all things pertaining to God. And, specifically, to offer gifts and sacrifices on behalf of the people for their sins.

Yet, even though set apart, the high priest was not immune from sin. He was as human as you and I. Subject to human weakness. Needing to sacrifice on behalf of himself as well as the rest of the people. It was this weakness - this human-ness - though, that made him sympathetic to the people.

Yet, it is, in a way, like being a pastor. Called by God. Feeling unworthy. Struggling as you do between my saint and the sinner sides. Often looked upon as a leader and example, and knowing that there is likely no bad thought that you have had that I haven’t. No mistake that you’ve made that I haven’t. Yet, understanding your struggles. And what it means to be human.

This is why the writer to the Hebrews names Jesus as the “great high priest.” Because like the high priest of old, he, too, was called to the position of Son by God. Called and appointed to serve God’s people. To incarnate. To become human. To experience what it is that we experience. Our joys. Our sadness. Our wins. Our losses. Our struggles. Everything that we experience. Everything that is human. And then to invite us to approach him boldly in prayer. To Share our joys. Our sadness. Our wins. Our losses. Our struggles.

This is the importance of the incarnation. God knows who we are in Jesus. God knows who we really are. And has sympathy for us. And, then, opens the door for us. Through Jesus. Who became the sacrifice. For us. For you. And for me. Becoming the source of life and salvation for you and I, and all who believe in him.

May you reflect on this. May it spark new life in you. May it jumpstart your imagination. And, may it rekindle your faith. In God. And in the love God has for you and for all people. Amen.