Now this is the commandment—the statutes and the ordinances—that the Lord your God charged me to teach you to observe in the land that you are about to cross into and occupy, so that you and your children and your children’s children may fear the Lord your God all the days of your life, and keep all his decrees and his commandments that I am commanding you, so that your days may be long. Hear therefore, O Israel, and observe them diligently, so that it may go well with you, and so that you may multiply greatly in a land flowing with milk and honey, as the Lord, the God of your ancestors, has promised you.
Hear, O Israel: The Lord is our God, the Lord alone. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might. Keep these words that I am commanding you today in your heart. Recite them to your children and talk about them when you are at home and when you are away, when you lie down and when you rise. Bind them as a sign on your hand, fix them as an emblem on your forehead, and write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates. Deuteronomy 6:1-9 (NRSV)
Now the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them. When they saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted. And Jesus came and said to them, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” Matthew 28:16-20 (NRSV)
Grace and peace to you from the Holy Trinity: Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer. Amen.
It’s good to go on vacation, but it's always really good to get home, isn’t it? At least that’s how I felt last week. If you didn’t know, I was in Italy for two weeks with friends and family. The first week we spent in a little hilltop village in central Italy. The second week was with a friend in Rome.
I love history and, as usual, I was blown away by some of the history I learned. This little hilltop town is one of the seven hill towns in central Italy that were settled by the Etruscans in the 6th, 7th, and 8th centuries before Christ. It’s believed that Orvieto - this little village where we spent a week - was founded by this group of people and developed into the central meeting place for leaders of all of the seven hill towns. It’s also believed that it was these Etruscans who eventually founded Rome. And it was, as they say, those “Roman barbarians” who eventually conquered and eliminated the Etruscans and their rich culture.
Fascinating. It’s in learning history, I think, that we learn more about ourselves and where our own stories fit into that long, flowing river of history.
I had another experience that also connected me to another story - the story of the church and of the people of the early church. I was able to tour the Catacombs of San Sebastian. If you know your Roman history, you may know that, as people died, they were buried in tombs along the roads leading out of the city. Eventually, they ran out of space, so they began to bury their dead in unused rock quarries on the outskirts of the city. Over time, as the early church grew, Christians, too, needed a place to bury their dead because, according to their beliefs, cremation was not allowed. So, they, too, began to bury their dead in the caves and passageways carved out below ground.
After fire broke out in Rome in 64 AD, rumors began that the Roman emperor Nero had set the fire deliberately to clear land for a palace for himself. Nero shifted blame to the Christians, who were already widely disliked because they didn’t participate in the religious festivals of the empire that were considered essential to civic life. The church and its leaders began to be persecuted. So, the church went underground. In the catacombs I visited, archaeologists have discovered an early chapel underground. It is believed that it was in that very place where the bodies of Peter and Paul, martyred, were originally enshrined.
So, why is any of this important for us here today? For me, and I hope for you, too, it is a reminder for us that we - as followers of Christ - come from a long history of believers. Of people who were so dedicated to worshiping God and living as disciples that they even did it underground. In the midst of persecution. Because they believed that what they believed was true. That their faith was based on genuine truth.
Over these past few weeks, we’ve been immersed in the Creed. In the three Articles of the Creed, thinking about the three persons of the Godhead. The Three in One. What we hear in the shema from the Deuteronomy text that God, our God, is One. Yet, three. As I said in Week 1 of our series, each time we speak the Creed, we step into that long, steady river. A great two thousand year story of believers, missionaries, and martyrs. People who under interrogation, refused to bow down to the gods of the empire. Who stood their ground and declared, “I believe in God the Father almighty…” And who were executed for saying so.
When we do the same - when we say “I believe in God” - we become part of something bigger than ourselves. Something that is in us individually, but that is also outside of ourselves and bigger than any one of us. Because, if we think salvation is about “me and Jesus” - about “me and my eternal reward” - we miss the point. If we come to the Lord’s table and we raise our voices in song, thinking this is a nice religious activity, we miss the point. As James Howell writes, it is “[o]ut of our isolation” that “we are called together to share the one thing that matters, the broken body and the shed blood of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. We find our place in Christ’s family. We sing, each voice distinct, but yet immersed in the great chorus of the angels and saints, no soloists allowed, an ever-burgeoning cascade of differing voices coalescing into a sunning, beautiful harmony of praise.”
All this when we say the words, “I believe.”
But, it’s easy to get distracted, isn’t it? We see it in the opening lines of our Matthew text. The eleven disciples, after the resurrection, went to the mountain in Galilee where Jesus directed them to go. Notice in verse 17 that, when they saw Jesus, they worshiped him. But, then, the text goes on to read, “...but some doubted.” Doubt is mixed with worship - similar to the “fear and joy” that the women experienced at the empty tomb. There’s some ambivalence. Some doubt. Some hesitation. In fact, the Greek word translated as “doubted” is distazo. It’s the same word that is used to express Peter’s reaction as he began to walk on water. He looked at Jesus and then felt the wind and he became distazo. He became conflicted, which is better translation for this word than doubt. Conflicted.
In Matthew, the disciples’ faith is not a certainty beyond being conflicted. It is a faith that lives between trust and despair. Between certainty and faith. Notice that, in the text, Jesus doesn’t overcome their conflictedness. Instead, he allows them to remain in it. And turns to them with his word.
Isn’t that how Jesus responds to us? As we go about our daily lives, we, too, become conflicted. Distracted from God, from who God calls us to be, we lose sight of God and of our promise to believe in this God. But, then, we gather here. And, in Jesus’ words and in his body and blood we are once again reminded of our Easter faith. Of Jesus, who joined us in our suffering, took it on himself, and who, in his resurrection, God exalted and installed as the Lord of our universe. A universe turned upside down by the resurrection. And, once more, we are centered. Remembering whose we are. Where we come from. And we continue on the journey that countless others have been led on. Centuries of believers. Unknown disciples. Followers of this God in whom we say we believe.
Something else on vacation that I easily fell into the pattern of was that of an afternoon siesta. In Orvieto, in particular, the shopkeepers close their shops around 2 p.m. Everyone goes to cool homes during the heat of the day to eat and to rest. During this period, after a short nap, I would often read one of my favorite murder mysteries. Just for fun. Over the two week period, I read five crime mysteries!
What’s interesting about these stories is the way that the events unfold. Often, it seems like the various details make little sense. Someone has mud on their boots. A wine glass is broken on the floor. A towel is missing from the bathroom. These random, often trivial, facts seem inconsequential to the story. But, then, someone - a detective - steps into the circle of suspects and begins to piece the story together. Explaining what happened. Why the mud is important. Or the broken glass is a critical clue. Or what difference a missing towel makes. It is only at the end that all of the various little details - the seemingly insignificant clues - become important. Only at the end that the whole story makes sense.
I think this is what our Christian life of discipleship is like. We follow, doing our best to not be conflicted. Gathering here weekly with each other, to be fed with the Word, and to be refreshed for the journey - this sprawling, meandering journey of discipleship, the details of which often make little sense in the moment.
Aristotle said that the mark of a good story is that, as you are following it, you have no idea how it will end. But, that, when it does end, you realize that it had to turn out that way. Easter is like the narrator tipping us off on the end of the story. We stand together in this circle and Jesus steps in and explains it all. And it is then, and only then, that everything begins to make sense.
But, it’s different from the end of my murder mysteries. In those, the dead remain dead. The widow goes home alone. The convict ends up in jail. In the Gospel, the dead live. The widowed are reunited. The jails are emptied. And we recognize that it had to turn out that way.
As we read our lives of discipleship backward - if we read the last chapter of our Christian lives first - we discover a journey that has been guided to its end. An end that is destined by the secret hand of the author. By this God in whom we say, “I believe.”
I invite you to believe in this God. To be part of the church, of those who believe in the resurrection. To be part of those who trust, not in themselves, but in God - the Three in One. To believe in the last chapter of our Christian life. And to be with all those before and after us who have trusted and will trust in God’s great, glorious future surprise. Amen.
Preached July 7, 2019, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Pentecost 4
Readings: 1 Timothy 3:14-4:11; Deuteronomy 6:1-9; Matthew 28:16-20.
Showing posts with label doubt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label doubt. Show all posts
Sunday, July 7, 2019
Sunday, May 5, 2019
Sent With Joy
Now the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them. When they saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted. And Jesus came and said to them, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” Matthew 28:16-20 (NRSV)
Grace and peace to you from God, our Father, and from our resurrected Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.
A few years ago, there was a book that was very popular, entitled, Eats, Shoots and Leaves. Any of you remember it? Well, if you’re even a bit of a punctuation nerd as I am, it’s probably sitting at home on your bookshelf. Its author, Lynne Truss, a former editor seriously concerned about the current grammatical state of our world, defended proper punctuation. Stressing how important a correctly placed comma or semicolon or apostrophe or question mark could be for our understanding. And for world peace!
Punctuation is really important. So important that, in fact, there is a huge subculture of people who write punctuation jokes. Here’s a couple for you. Why did the comma break up with the question mark? Because it questioned everything. (I promise, they get better!) Why did the comma break up with the apostrophe? Because it was too possessive. (One more.) Why did the comma break up with the exclamation point? Because it was always yelling!
Okay, so what does punctuation have to do with today’s reading? If you remember, last week, after Mary heard from the angel that Jesus was risen, she was told to go back to the disciples and tell them to meet their risen Lord in Galilee. Then, on her way, she ran into Jesus, and, after she fell at his feet and worshiped him, he, too, told her to go back to the other disciples and to direct them to Galilee.
When we started reading the Gospel of Matthew at the beginning of this year, do you recall where Jesus started his ministry? He’d been baptized by John at the Jordan in Judea. Then tempted in the Judean wilderness. It was after those two events that he began his ministry. But, not in Judea. Because he heard that John had been arrested, he moved to Galilee. It was there, in Galilee, where he began. Matthew points out that this move fulfilled a scripture from the prophet Isaiah. That the people who lived in the dark - in the Land of Zebulun and land of Naphtali, alongside the sea, across the Jordan, in Galilee of the Gentiles - that these people living in the shadow of death had seen a great light. In the Galilee of the Gentiles.
Jesus healed and taught in the Galilean countryside, moving ever and ever closer to Jerusalem. Where the conflict with the religious and political leaders would escalate to the point that Jesus would be crucified. Then to Golgotha, the hillside outside of Jerusalem, where he would be crucified and buried. And then, on this same hillside where Jesus would rise from the dead. The conclusion of Jesus’ mission on earth. Marked - and here’s the punctuation part - marked with a huge exclamation point!
And now, with today’s story, we are back once again in Galilee. And beginning a new phase in the mission of Jesus. Marked with a different punctuation marked. With a colon. A punctuation mark that is not an ending. But that points us forward into another phase. An unfinished phase. A phase in which we are still taking part. The unfinished story of the church.
But, let’s look a little closer at today’s story. Notice that Matthew writes that the eleven disciples meet Jesus on a mountain. The curious thing about this is that there are no mountains in Galilee. By including this in the story, the gospel writer is reminding us of all of the mountaintop revelations we have witnessed before. Think of them. (I once wrote an entire research paper on these mountaintop experiences.) There is the mountain where Noah’s ark rested after the flood, where he offered a sacrifice to God and where God made a new covenant with creation. Then, there is Mount Horeb where God called Moses, speaking to him from the burning bush and revealing God’s name, and calling Moses to deliver God’s people out of bondage. Then, there is Mount Sinai (also known as Mount Horeb), where God delivered the Ten Commandments to Moses, after Israel had been freed, and where God and Israel entered into covenant.
Then, there is the New Testament. Think about Jesus’ own story. He was tempted on a mountain in the wilderness. His first teaching, the Sermon on the Mount, was on a small mountain. Jesus was transfigured. On a mountaintop. And it was on a mountaintop, where Jesus had risen in glory. By including this, by making reference to this simple location, Matthew is recalling for us all of the salvation story, from one revelation to the next. The first phase of a story that has been marked with an exclamation point. And the second phase that is about to begin.
So, the disciples meet Jesus. Like the two Mary’s, they fall at his feet and worship their risen Lord. Did you catch the entire phrase there, in verse 17? “When they saw him, they worshipped him, but some doubted.” The word for “doubt” used here - distazo - is used only one other place in all of the New Testament. In a story we heard a few weeks ago, when Peter jumped out of the boat and began to walk on water towards Jesus. Matthew 14:29. “Then Peter got out of the boat and was walking on the water toward Jesus. But when Peter saw the strong wind, he became frightened. He distazo. He doubted.
These disciples. As they greet their risen Lord, who they are seeing alive with their very own eyes and who they now fully understand - at least some of them understand - that Jesus is truly the Son of God. Even then, some doubt.
Have you ever doubted in Jesus? Has something ever happened to you that put a big question mark there in your life right in place of your faith? Perhaps it was an unexpected and tragic death in your family. Or an illness. Or perhaps it was the loss of a job. Or a divorce. When it seems that this resurrection stuff is just too much to believe in. When it feels as if we, just like the Galileans, live in the shadow of death. And we, too, like the disciples, doubt.
In Matthew, though, doubt is not the opposite of faith. Instead it is an inevitable part of a life of faith and discipleship. Peter, who, as he was walking on water and then heard the wind and became afraid and doubted - that same Peter would become the “rock” on whom the church would be built. As Wes Allen notes, doubt does not preclude the disciples from being entrusted with the ongoing work of the mission of Jesus. With God’s mission. Because even in the midst of their doubt, they are being sent out into the world. Sent to share the joy of Jesus’ resurrection to all nations through the full authority of God, given in its entirety to Jesus. Because it is in raising Jesus, that God has vindicated his life and mission. It is in raising Jesus, that God has demonstrated power and authority that is greater than that of any human ruler. It is in raising Jesus, that God has shown power and authority that is greater than the forces of evil and death. It is with this authority, given fully by God to Jesus, that the disciples are sent into the world. To make disciples by baptizing them - welcoming them into God’s family just as we welcomed Marcus a little over a week ago - and teaching them to obey everything that Jesus had taught and commanded them. It is with the full authority of Jesus Christ that the disciples will go out into the world. Even in the midst of their doubt and fear. Because it is not the disciples’ power and authority that will accomplish this second phase of Jesus’ mission. It is God’s power and authority in Jesus Christ that will accomplish their mission. That will accomplish our mission.
That’s right. Our mission. This is our mission, too. Our mission as the church. Our mission as God’s people here at Grace & Glory. Because this mission is not simply for those who are called to full-time ministry or mission work in the church. This mission is your mission as disciples of Jesus Christ. Just like those first disciples, you are sent with the same power and authority in Jesus Christ. To witness. And to share where Jesus has met you. To share even in the midst of your doubt and your sense of unworthiness and your fear that you won’t have the right words to say. You are called. And you are sent. Just as the early disciples, to witness to the love of Christ with God’s full authority behind you.
That, my friends is our mission statement here at Grace & Glory. A mission statement that belongs to each and every one of us. To gather as God’s people. To grow in faith and the love of God. To go out into the world to share God’s love with others. And to give to others what God has first given to us.
Finally, if all of this feels way too overwhelming, may you remember what Jesus told the early disciples in the midst of their own fear and doubt and unworthiness. What Jesus tells us in the last verse of Matthew. “And, remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”
May you journey with joy, walking with the courage that Jesus is beside you as you share the good news of Jesus Christ with the world. Amen.
Preached April 28, 2019, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Second Sunday of Easter (Holy Hilarity Sunday)
Readings: Matthew 28:16-20, Psalm 40:9-10
Grace and peace to you from God, our Father, and from our resurrected Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.
A few years ago, there was a book that was very popular, entitled, Eats, Shoots and Leaves. Any of you remember it? Well, if you’re even a bit of a punctuation nerd as I am, it’s probably sitting at home on your bookshelf. Its author, Lynne Truss, a former editor seriously concerned about the current grammatical state of our world, defended proper punctuation. Stressing how important a correctly placed comma or semicolon or apostrophe or question mark could be for our understanding. And for world peace!
Punctuation is really important. So important that, in fact, there is a huge subculture of people who write punctuation jokes. Here’s a couple for you. Why did the comma break up with the question mark? Because it questioned everything. (I promise, they get better!) Why did the comma break up with the apostrophe? Because it was too possessive. (One more.) Why did the comma break up with the exclamation point? Because it was always yelling!
Okay, so what does punctuation have to do with today’s reading? If you remember, last week, after Mary heard from the angel that Jesus was risen, she was told to go back to the disciples and tell them to meet their risen Lord in Galilee. Then, on her way, she ran into Jesus, and, after she fell at his feet and worshiped him, he, too, told her to go back to the other disciples and to direct them to Galilee.
When we started reading the Gospel of Matthew at the beginning of this year, do you recall where Jesus started his ministry? He’d been baptized by John at the Jordan in Judea. Then tempted in the Judean wilderness. It was after those two events that he began his ministry. But, not in Judea. Because he heard that John had been arrested, he moved to Galilee. It was there, in Galilee, where he began. Matthew points out that this move fulfilled a scripture from the prophet Isaiah. That the people who lived in the dark - in the Land of Zebulun and land of Naphtali, alongside the sea, across the Jordan, in Galilee of the Gentiles - that these people living in the shadow of death had seen a great light. In the Galilee of the Gentiles.
Jesus healed and taught in the Galilean countryside, moving ever and ever closer to Jerusalem. Where the conflict with the religious and political leaders would escalate to the point that Jesus would be crucified. Then to Golgotha, the hillside outside of Jerusalem, where he would be crucified and buried. And then, on this same hillside where Jesus would rise from the dead. The conclusion of Jesus’ mission on earth. Marked - and here’s the punctuation part - marked with a huge exclamation point!
And now, with today’s story, we are back once again in Galilee. And beginning a new phase in the mission of Jesus. Marked with a different punctuation marked. With a colon. A punctuation mark that is not an ending. But that points us forward into another phase. An unfinished phase. A phase in which we are still taking part. The unfinished story of the church.
But, let’s look a little closer at today’s story. Notice that Matthew writes that the eleven disciples meet Jesus on a mountain. The curious thing about this is that there are no mountains in Galilee. By including this in the story, the gospel writer is reminding us of all of the mountaintop revelations we have witnessed before. Think of them. (I once wrote an entire research paper on these mountaintop experiences.) There is the mountain where Noah’s ark rested after the flood, where he offered a sacrifice to God and where God made a new covenant with creation. Then, there is Mount Horeb where God called Moses, speaking to him from the burning bush and revealing God’s name, and calling Moses to deliver God’s people out of bondage. Then, there is Mount Sinai (also known as Mount Horeb), where God delivered the Ten Commandments to Moses, after Israel had been freed, and where God and Israel entered into covenant.
Then, there is the New Testament. Think about Jesus’ own story. He was tempted on a mountain in the wilderness. His first teaching, the Sermon on the Mount, was on a small mountain. Jesus was transfigured. On a mountaintop. And it was on a mountaintop, where Jesus had risen in glory. By including this, by making reference to this simple location, Matthew is recalling for us all of the salvation story, from one revelation to the next. The first phase of a story that has been marked with an exclamation point. And the second phase that is about to begin.
So, the disciples meet Jesus. Like the two Mary’s, they fall at his feet and worship their risen Lord. Did you catch the entire phrase there, in verse 17? “When they saw him, they worshipped him, but some doubted.” The word for “doubt” used here - distazo - is used only one other place in all of the New Testament. In a story we heard a few weeks ago, when Peter jumped out of the boat and began to walk on water towards Jesus. Matthew 14:29. “Then Peter got out of the boat and was walking on the water toward Jesus. But when Peter saw the strong wind, he became frightened. He distazo. He doubted.
These disciples. As they greet their risen Lord, who they are seeing alive with their very own eyes and who they now fully understand - at least some of them understand - that Jesus is truly the Son of God. Even then, some doubt.
Have you ever doubted in Jesus? Has something ever happened to you that put a big question mark there in your life right in place of your faith? Perhaps it was an unexpected and tragic death in your family. Or an illness. Or perhaps it was the loss of a job. Or a divorce. When it seems that this resurrection stuff is just too much to believe in. When it feels as if we, just like the Galileans, live in the shadow of death. And we, too, like the disciples, doubt.
In Matthew, though, doubt is not the opposite of faith. Instead it is an inevitable part of a life of faith and discipleship. Peter, who, as he was walking on water and then heard the wind and became afraid and doubted - that same Peter would become the “rock” on whom the church would be built. As Wes Allen notes, doubt does not preclude the disciples from being entrusted with the ongoing work of the mission of Jesus. With God’s mission. Because even in the midst of their doubt, they are being sent out into the world. Sent to share the joy of Jesus’ resurrection to all nations through the full authority of God, given in its entirety to Jesus. Because it is in raising Jesus, that God has vindicated his life and mission. It is in raising Jesus, that God has demonstrated power and authority that is greater than that of any human ruler. It is in raising Jesus, that God has shown power and authority that is greater than the forces of evil and death. It is with this authority, given fully by God to Jesus, that the disciples are sent into the world. To make disciples by baptizing them - welcoming them into God’s family just as we welcomed Marcus a little over a week ago - and teaching them to obey everything that Jesus had taught and commanded them. It is with the full authority of Jesus Christ that the disciples will go out into the world. Even in the midst of their doubt and fear. Because it is not the disciples’ power and authority that will accomplish this second phase of Jesus’ mission. It is God’s power and authority in Jesus Christ that will accomplish their mission. That will accomplish our mission.
That’s right. Our mission. This is our mission, too. Our mission as the church. Our mission as God’s people here at Grace & Glory. Because this mission is not simply for those who are called to full-time ministry or mission work in the church. This mission is your mission as disciples of Jesus Christ. Just like those first disciples, you are sent with the same power and authority in Jesus Christ. To witness. And to share where Jesus has met you. To share even in the midst of your doubt and your sense of unworthiness and your fear that you won’t have the right words to say. You are called. And you are sent. Just as the early disciples, to witness to the love of Christ with God’s full authority behind you.
That, my friends is our mission statement here at Grace & Glory. A mission statement that belongs to each and every one of us. To gather as God’s people. To grow in faith and the love of God. To go out into the world to share God’s love with others. And to give to others what God has first given to us.
Finally, if all of this feels way too overwhelming, may you remember what Jesus told the early disciples in the midst of their own fear and doubt and unworthiness. What Jesus tells us in the last verse of Matthew. “And, remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”
May you journey with joy, walking with the courage that Jesus is beside you as you share the good news of Jesus Christ with the world. Amen.
Preached April 28, 2019, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Second Sunday of Easter (Holy Hilarity Sunday)
Readings: Matthew 28:16-20, Psalm 40:9-10
Friday, June 15, 2018
Unexpected
When the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place. And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. 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.
Now there were devout Jews from every nation under heaven living in Jerusalem. And at this sound the crowd gathered and was bewildered, because each one heard them speaking in the native language of each. Amazed and astonished, they asked, “Are not all these who are speaking Galileans? And how is it that we hear, each of us, in our own native language? Parthians, Medes, Elamites, and residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya belonging to Cyrene, and visitors from Rome, both Jews and proselytes, Cretans and Arabs—in our own languages we hear them speaking about God’s deeds of power.” All were amazed and perplexed, saying to one another, “What does this mean?” But others sneered and said, “They are filled with new wine.”
But Peter, standing with the eleven, raised his voice and addressed them, “Men of Judea and all who live in Jerusalem, let this be known to you, and listen to what I say. Indeed, these are not drunk, as you suppose, for it is only nine o’clock in the morning. No, this is what was spoken through the prophet Joel:
‘In the last days it will be, God declares,
that I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh,
and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy,
and your young men shall see visions,
and your old men shall dream dreams.
Even upon my slaves, both men and women,
in those days I will pour out my Spirit;
and they shall prophesy.
And I will show portents in the heaven above
and signs on the earth below,
blood, and fire, and smoky mist.
The sun shall be turned to darkness
and the moon to blood,
before the coming of the Lord’s great and glorious day.
Then everyone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved.’ Acts 2:1-21 (NRSV)
Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
Alright! It’s time to be honest. Who watched the wedding yesterday morning? Who got up early and watched the wedding live of Prince Harry and Meghan Markle? Come on! I know some of you must have. I did. I am a huge fan of British culture and history, thanks in large part to Downton Abbey.
It was a beautiful occasion, wasn’t it. (All weddings are beautiful, aren’t they?) Her dress was beautiful in its simplicity and sophistication. Ms. Markle wore the tiara originally made for Queen Mary in 1919. She wore a veil that was 16 feet long and that was trimmed in hand-embroidered flowers representing each of the 53 countries of the Commonwealth. She was stunning. And, Prince Harry looked dashing in his military uniform, the Blues and Royals of the Household Cavalry, the arm of the British service in which he served for 10 years--a period of service that included a tour of duty in Afghanistan. And the children--the little sons and daughters of the royal family who acted as page boys and bridesmaids. Well, they were just adorable. It was a wonderful, royal wedding--with all of the pomp and circumstance and tradition we have come to expect from the British royal family.
This one, though...this one felt a little different. A little more unique than most. Even some of the commentators picked up on this, remarking that this wedding in particular seemed to move the royal family just a little further into modernity.
What was it that felt so different? Well, to begin with Meghan Markle is an American. Then, it’s hard to miss the fact that she is bi-racial--the daughter of a white man and a black woman. Throughout the wedding, there were things that showed us who she was. Her solo walk up half of the center aisle. The exchange of two rings, one for the bride and one for the groom--unlike the usual royal tradition of a ring only for the bride. Then, in addition to the usual Anglican boys' choir, there was also a Gospel choir, singing “Stand By Me” and “This Little Light of Mine.” Finally, the address was spoken by Bishop Michael Curry, the presiding bishop of the Episcopal Church here in the United States. And his wasn’t any ordinary, royal wedding address. Quoting Martin Luther, he spoke passionately about the Power of Love, in the style of African-American prophetic preaching, growing more and more excited and, even, going a little longer than he was supposed to go.
One can only wonder what it must have felt like to be sitting there, sensing something new and different happening. One can only wonder how we might have reacted to this new and different wedding, this blend of cultures. This beautiful blend of diverse culture. This royal wedding, unlike all of the rest, because of a new and different and wonderful diversity. One can only wonder.
Just like one can only wonder what it might have felt like to be at the first Pentecost, so very long ago.
All of the disciples had gathered together that day--all 120 of them. Men and women. They had come together because thousands of Jews from across the region had also gathered in Jerusalem to celebrate Shavu’ot, or the Festival of Weeks--one of three major annual Jewish festivals. In Greek, Shavu’ot was known as Pentecost, because it came 50 days after Passover.
Legend had it that 50 days after that first Passover--after the Jews were freed from slavery in Egypt--they camped at Mount Sinai, where Moses received the Torah, or the Instruction, from God on Mount Sinai. Passover had freed the Jews physically from bondage in Egypt. But it was Pentecost that gave the Jews spiritual freedom, a freedom from bondage to idolatry and immortality, a freedom given in the Torah and, as part of it, the Ten Commandments.
So, as the disciples gathered on that festival day, one can only wonder what they must have been thinking. Or talking about. Jesus had risen from the dead some 50 days before. And only 10 days ago, Jesus had ascended into heaven. He had gone away. He had left them physically. No longer present in their lives. Or so it must have felt.
Jesus had promised to send the Holy Spirit. To send an Advocate. A Comforter. “And I will ask the Father,” he had spoken to them. “And he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever. This is the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees her or knows her. You know her, because she abides with you, and she will be in you.”
Jesus had promised. But, they had no idea when this would happen. Or, even, if it would happen.
Do you ever doubt God? Do you ever doubt that God will keep God’s promises? We, who live some 2 millennia after Christ, who long for the fullness, for the wholeness, for the shalom of God’s kingdom in the midst of a world that often seems dark and that often seems to be crumbling around us. A world where children aren’t safe in school, where refugees and immigrants are rejected at the border, or separated from their children. A world that seems to be in a state of despair, that seeks to mask its pain in drugs or alcohol or anything else that will keep us from feeling this darkness. A world that seems to be growing further and further away from God. And from the church.
Do you ever doubt that God will keep God’s promises? Do you worry, just like the disciples must have worried as they gathered together that day?
And, then, they heard it!!! The roar that sounded like a rush of violent wind. It filled the house. And, then, the divided tongues that looked like fire. Fire, that ever refining agent, that purifying element that whooshed in as one large mass of flame and then divided into 120 individual tongues resting on each of the disciples. And, then, filled with the Holy Spirit, the languages that came out of their mouths. Diverse languages. Languages from all of the lands to which the Jews had dispersed. Languages that represented the diversity of all those who had gathered that day in Jerusalem. Language that, through the power of the Holy Spirit, reached each and every person where they were. Unexpectedly.
Because, that is what the Holy Spirit does. Unexpectedly shows up exactly where we are. In the midst of our worry. In the midst of our broken world. In the midst of our messy lives, she shows up and begins to do her work. Unexpectedly.
Just as the Spirit comes unexpectedly and continues to surprise us, I have a surprise for you, too. I would invite you to look under your seat to see if anything is taped there. If so, then you get to be the reader of a second lesson for us to consider today. (And, if you don’t want to read it, you can pass it to someone near you who is more comfortable reading it out loud.)
Over these past few weeks, we’ve been reading select portions of Paul’s letter to the church in Philippi. What we are about to hear are the closing words to Paul’s letter. At the time he wrote this letter, Paul was in prison in Rome. One can only wonder what he must have had to worry about. Whether he might see them again. Whether he might ever be freed? Whether he might be martyred as many of the disciples would be? There would have been much for him to worry about. Yet, let us hear the words that Paul wrote to them.
Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:4-7 (NRSV)
Sisters and brothers, what are you worried about? What troubles you today? Take out that square of paper I mentioned at the beginning of worship. Write down on it what has you worried. We will turn those worries over to God in prayer. Then, write what you might find to rejoice in this week.
The Holy Spirit continues to show up in the most unexpected ways in our lives and in our world. She keeps us with Christ in faith. She offers renewal. She offers re-creation. She seeks to heal each of us and to bring us together to do the work of building God’s kingdom, a kingdom where there are no more worries, no more divisions, no more barriers of class, gender or age. A kingdom that might look more like what we saw in yesterday’s royal wedding--a world of inclusiveness. A world of unity in all its diversity. A world redeemed by the power of the Holy Spirit. A world with something truly to rejoice about!
And, now, may the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.
Preached May 20, 2018, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY
Readings: John 14:16-17
Pentecost
Now there were devout Jews from every nation under heaven living in Jerusalem. And at this sound the crowd gathered and was bewildered, because each one heard them speaking in the native language of each. Amazed and astonished, they asked, “Are not all these who are speaking Galileans? And how is it that we hear, each of us, in our own native language? Parthians, Medes, Elamites, and residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya belonging to Cyrene, and visitors from Rome, both Jews and proselytes, Cretans and Arabs—in our own languages we hear them speaking about God’s deeds of power.” All were amazed and perplexed, saying to one another, “What does this mean?” But others sneered and said, “They are filled with new wine.”
But Peter, standing with the eleven, raised his voice and addressed them, “Men of Judea and all who live in Jerusalem, let this be known to you, and listen to what I say. Indeed, these are not drunk, as you suppose, for it is only nine o’clock in the morning. No, this is what was spoken through the prophet Joel:
‘In the last days it will be, God declares,
that I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh,
and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy,
and your young men shall see visions,
and your old men shall dream dreams.
Even upon my slaves, both men and women,
in those days I will pour out my Spirit;
and they shall prophesy.
And I will show portents in the heaven above
and signs on the earth below,
blood, and fire, and smoky mist.
The sun shall be turned to darkness
and the moon to blood,
before the coming of the Lord’s great and glorious day.
Then everyone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved.’ Acts 2:1-21 (NRSV)
Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
Alright! It’s time to be honest. Who watched the wedding yesterday morning? Who got up early and watched the wedding live of Prince Harry and Meghan Markle? Come on! I know some of you must have. I did. I am a huge fan of British culture and history, thanks in large part to Downton Abbey.
It was a beautiful occasion, wasn’t it. (All weddings are beautiful, aren’t they?) Her dress was beautiful in its simplicity and sophistication. Ms. Markle wore the tiara originally made for Queen Mary in 1919. She wore a veil that was 16 feet long and that was trimmed in hand-embroidered flowers representing each of the 53 countries of the Commonwealth. She was stunning. And, Prince Harry looked dashing in his military uniform, the Blues and Royals of the Household Cavalry, the arm of the British service in which he served for 10 years--a period of service that included a tour of duty in Afghanistan. And the children--the little sons and daughters of the royal family who acted as page boys and bridesmaids. Well, they were just adorable. It was a wonderful, royal wedding--with all of the pomp and circumstance and tradition we have come to expect from the British royal family.
This one, though...this one felt a little different. A little more unique than most. Even some of the commentators picked up on this, remarking that this wedding in particular seemed to move the royal family just a little further into modernity.
What was it that felt so different? Well, to begin with Meghan Markle is an American. Then, it’s hard to miss the fact that she is bi-racial--the daughter of a white man and a black woman. Throughout the wedding, there were things that showed us who she was. Her solo walk up half of the center aisle. The exchange of two rings, one for the bride and one for the groom--unlike the usual royal tradition of a ring only for the bride. Then, in addition to the usual Anglican boys' choir, there was also a Gospel choir, singing “Stand By Me” and “This Little Light of Mine.” Finally, the address was spoken by Bishop Michael Curry, the presiding bishop of the Episcopal Church here in the United States. And his wasn’t any ordinary, royal wedding address. Quoting Martin Luther, he spoke passionately about the Power of Love, in the style of African-American prophetic preaching, growing more and more excited and, even, going a little longer than he was supposed to go.
One can only wonder what it must have felt like to be sitting there, sensing something new and different happening. One can only wonder how we might have reacted to this new and different wedding, this blend of cultures. This beautiful blend of diverse culture. This royal wedding, unlike all of the rest, because of a new and different and wonderful diversity. One can only wonder.
Just like one can only wonder what it might have felt like to be at the first Pentecost, so very long ago.
All of the disciples had gathered together that day--all 120 of them. Men and women. They had come together because thousands of Jews from across the region had also gathered in Jerusalem to celebrate Shavu’ot, or the Festival of Weeks--one of three major annual Jewish festivals. In Greek, Shavu’ot was known as Pentecost, because it came 50 days after Passover.
Legend had it that 50 days after that first Passover--after the Jews were freed from slavery in Egypt--they camped at Mount Sinai, where Moses received the Torah, or the Instruction, from God on Mount Sinai. Passover had freed the Jews physically from bondage in Egypt. But it was Pentecost that gave the Jews spiritual freedom, a freedom from bondage to idolatry and immortality, a freedom given in the Torah and, as part of it, the Ten Commandments.
So, as the disciples gathered on that festival day, one can only wonder what they must have been thinking. Or talking about. Jesus had risen from the dead some 50 days before. And only 10 days ago, Jesus had ascended into heaven. He had gone away. He had left them physically. No longer present in their lives. Or so it must have felt.
Jesus had promised to send the Holy Spirit. To send an Advocate. A Comforter. “And I will ask the Father,” he had spoken to them. “And he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever. This is the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees her or knows her. You know her, because she abides with you, and she will be in you.”
Jesus had promised. But, they had no idea when this would happen. Or, even, if it would happen.
Do you ever doubt God? Do you ever doubt that God will keep God’s promises? We, who live some 2 millennia after Christ, who long for the fullness, for the wholeness, for the shalom of God’s kingdom in the midst of a world that often seems dark and that often seems to be crumbling around us. A world where children aren’t safe in school, where refugees and immigrants are rejected at the border, or separated from their children. A world that seems to be in a state of despair, that seeks to mask its pain in drugs or alcohol or anything else that will keep us from feeling this darkness. A world that seems to be growing further and further away from God. And from the church.
Do you ever doubt that God will keep God’s promises? Do you worry, just like the disciples must have worried as they gathered together that day?
And, then, they heard it!!! The roar that sounded like a rush of violent wind. It filled the house. And, then, the divided tongues that looked like fire. Fire, that ever refining agent, that purifying element that whooshed in as one large mass of flame and then divided into 120 individual tongues resting on each of the disciples. And, then, filled with the Holy Spirit, the languages that came out of their mouths. Diverse languages. Languages from all of the lands to which the Jews had dispersed. Languages that represented the diversity of all those who had gathered that day in Jerusalem. Language that, through the power of the Holy Spirit, reached each and every person where they were. Unexpectedly.
Because, that is what the Holy Spirit does. Unexpectedly shows up exactly where we are. In the midst of our worry. In the midst of our broken world. In the midst of our messy lives, she shows up and begins to do her work. Unexpectedly.
Just as the Spirit comes unexpectedly and continues to surprise us, I have a surprise for you, too. I would invite you to look under your seat to see if anything is taped there. If so, then you get to be the reader of a second lesson for us to consider today. (And, if you don’t want to read it, you can pass it to someone near you who is more comfortable reading it out loud.)
Over these past few weeks, we’ve been reading select portions of Paul’s letter to the church in Philippi. What we are about to hear are the closing words to Paul’s letter. At the time he wrote this letter, Paul was in prison in Rome. One can only wonder what he must have had to worry about. Whether he might see them again. Whether he might ever be freed? Whether he might be martyred as many of the disciples would be? There would have been much for him to worry about. Yet, let us hear the words that Paul wrote to them.
Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:4-7 (NRSV)
Sisters and brothers, what are you worried about? What troubles you today? Take out that square of paper I mentioned at the beginning of worship. Write down on it what has you worried. We will turn those worries over to God in prayer. Then, write what you might find to rejoice in this week.
The Holy Spirit continues to show up in the most unexpected ways in our lives and in our world. She keeps us with Christ in faith. She offers renewal. She offers re-creation. She seeks to heal each of us and to bring us together to do the work of building God’s kingdom, a kingdom where there are no more worries, no more divisions, no more barriers of class, gender or age. A kingdom that might look more like what we saw in yesterday’s royal wedding--a world of inclusiveness. A world of unity in all its diversity. A world redeemed by the power of the Holy Spirit. A world with something truly to rejoice about!
And, now, may the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.
Preached May 20, 2018, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY
Readings: John 14:16-17
Pentecost
Sunday, April 8, 2018
Good News Spreads: Believing
When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.”
But Thomas (who was called the Twin), one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord.” But he said to them, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.”
A week later his disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.” Thomas answered him, “My Lord and my God!” Jesus said to him, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.”
Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name. John 20:19-31 (NRSV)
Grace and joy to you from our Lord and resurrected Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.
Welcome to Holy Hilarity Sunday! Or as it is also called - Holy Humor Sunday. Or also - Bright Sunday. This is a tradition from the early church on this second Easter Sunday (There are seven Easter Sundays in this season!). After the grandeur and celebration of the first Easter Sunday, this is the Sunday in which we revel in the hilarity of God’s action--the resurrection as the last laugh of God’s over the devil.
It is also, traditionally, the Sunday when we hear the Thomas story. Or “Doubting Thomas” as he has been nicknamed. So, thinking of both Thomas and Holy Hilarity Sunday, I went online searching for any jokes about Thomas.
Do you know that I couldn’t find any? Or, at least, not any that were good jokes. The best i found was this cartoon, where Thomas is frustrated with the other disciples…”All I’m saying is we don’t call Peter “Denying Peter” or Mark “Ran away naked Mark.” Why should I be saddled with this title?” And, then, the response, “I see your point, Thomas. But really, it’s time to move on.”
Not funny!
So, then, I decided to search for different artist’s renditions of Thomas. I was pretty amazed at the volume of art that depicts the scene we heard in our reading this morning. This classic painting by Caravaggio. Or another by German Martin Schongauer. Or here’s one by another German, Emil Nolde--on the the first Expressionist painters. Or here’s one from contemporary Russian artist Andrey Skorodumov. Or another contemporary--Chinese artist James He Qi. And, then, finally, John Granville Gregory, who does a contemporary version of the classic by Caravaggio.
As I looked at this different artistic interpretations of today’s gospel, I was particularly struck by their similarities. Do you see it? In each painting, every artist has captured Thomas’ need to experience the resurrected Jesus. Whether it is touching the wound on his side or viewing the nail holes in his hands, Thomas needs his own experience with the resurrected Jesus.
To have his own experience. Have you ever had a friend say to you, “You’ve got to see this!”? Maybe it’s a movie they’re ranting about. Or a particular product. Or maybe it’s to see the sunset from this particular spot. Whatever it is, your friend comes to you and is enthusiastic about it. Even a little over-enthusiastic. To the point that maybe you begin to doubt it a little. Or to wonder about what is real and what is hype. It’s not that you don’t believe your friends experience, but more that you don’t have anything to compare to it yourself. You haven’t experienced it. And, so, to be able to offer your own testimony of the greatness of the movie, or the product, or the sunset, or whatever it is, you need to have your own experience. Just like Thomas.
The Gospel writer knows this. And writes in this pattern throughout John. Where someone hears about Jesus and needs more information. And, then, they receive what they need to come to their own experience of the life that Jesus is embodying.
Remember Nathanael, our earliest example. “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Or the woman at the well. “Sir, you have no bucket and the well is deep. Where do you get that living water?” Or the man born blind. Or Mary Magdalene on the first Easter morning: “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.”
Each person who meets Jesus. Needing more information. So that they can have their own individual experience with him.
I’d like to back us up a little in today’s story. In the section before the resurrected Jesus and Thomas meet, Jesus first appears to the rest of the disciples on the evening of that first Easter. He appears in the midst of them and offers them a blessing, “Peace be unto you.” Peace meaning shalom. That word from the Hebrew scriptures that connotes more than just peace, but a wholeness. A state of completeness.
Jesus then shows them his hands and his side. They have their own experience with Jesus. An experience that brings them much joy. And, probably, a lot of laughter, too. Then, Jesus once again offers them a blessing of peace. And commissions them: “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” Jesus then breathes on them. In the Hebrew, ruach. That breath of God. The Holy Spirit. “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.”
There’s something interesting about this last sentence. Verse 23 in chapter 20. The phrase “the sins of” are not there in the original Greek. For years, translators have just assumed that these words are assumed. That they match the pattern of the first phrase--”if you forgive the sins of any.” But more recent scholarship has begun to question this assumption. That perhaps these words should be assumed.
So, what happens if we take the assumed phrase out? How does that change the meaning of this sentence.
In the closest verbatim translation, it would read like this “Of whomever you forgive the sins, they [the sins] are forgiven to them; whoever you hold fast [meaning embrace], they are held fast.
Or, to make it more understandable, “If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven. If you hold fast to someone, they are held fast.”
If you hold fast to someone, they are held fast. This is what Jesus does for Thomas. He holds him fast. It’s what Jesus did for Nathanael, for the woman at the well, for the blind man, for Mary Magdalene, for the disciples in fear behind locked doors on that Easter evening, and for nearly every other character introduced to us in John, Jesus holds them fast through their doubt, or their fear, or their partial understanding or whatever else it is until they receive what they need to believe. Until they experience what they need for faith. This is what Jesus has been doing throughout John’s gospel. Holding each person fast until he or she has their own experience of belief.
And, when Jesus breathes the Holy Spirit onto the disciples, Jesus is making is possible for them to continue his work. To continue his work of “holding fast” onto those “who have not yet seen.” “Holding fast” to others along with the accompanying work of forgiving sins.
This, my friends, is what we are called to do in this place. In the midst of our doubt. Or our fear. Or our grief or our anger, we are called to hold fast to each other. To embrace and share in that brokenness. Because it is there, in the brokenness, in the embrace, in the holding fast, that God enters in. That God is incarnated within us. In, with, and under. God enters in, kills our brokenness and brings new life. Wholeness. Shalom. God brings life out of death. God resurrects us. Just like Jesus. And just like Thomas.
Knock, knock.
Who’s there?
Holly.
Holly who?
Hollylujah, Christ is risen!
Christ is risen indeed. Alleluia!
Amen.
Preached April 8, 2018, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Easter 2
Readings: Psalm 145:13-21; John 20:19-31.
But Thomas (who was called the Twin), one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord.” But he said to them, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.”
A week later his disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.” Thomas answered him, “My Lord and my God!” Jesus said to him, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.”
Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name. John 20:19-31 (NRSV)
Grace and joy to you from our Lord and resurrected Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.
Welcome to Holy Hilarity Sunday! Or as it is also called - Holy Humor Sunday. Or also - Bright Sunday. This is a tradition from the early church on this second Easter Sunday (There are seven Easter Sundays in this season!). After the grandeur and celebration of the first Easter Sunday, this is the Sunday in which we revel in the hilarity of God’s action--the resurrection as the last laugh of God’s over the devil.
It is also, traditionally, the Sunday when we hear the Thomas story. Or “Doubting Thomas” as he has been nicknamed. So, thinking of both Thomas and Holy Hilarity Sunday, I went online searching for any jokes about Thomas.
Do you know that I couldn’t find any? Or, at least, not any that were good jokes. The best i found was this cartoon, where Thomas is frustrated with the other disciples…”All I’m saying is we don’t call Peter “Denying Peter” or Mark “Ran away naked Mark.” Why should I be saddled with this title?” And, then, the response, “I see your point, Thomas. But really, it’s time to move on.”
Not funny!
So, then, I decided to search for different artist’s renditions of Thomas. I was pretty amazed at the volume of art that depicts the scene we heard in our reading this morning. This classic painting by Caravaggio. Or another by German Martin Schongauer. Or here’s one by another German, Emil Nolde--on the the first Expressionist painters. Or here’s one from contemporary Russian artist Andrey Skorodumov. Or another contemporary--Chinese artist James He Qi. And, then, finally, John Granville Gregory, who does a contemporary version of the classic by Caravaggio.
As I looked at this different artistic interpretations of today’s gospel, I was particularly struck by their similarities. Do you see it? In each painting, every artist has captured Thomas’ need to experience the resurrected Jesus. Whether it is touching the wound on his side or viewing the nail holes in his hands, Thomas needs his own experience with the resurrected Jesus.
To have his own experience. Have you ever had a friend say to you, “You’ve got to see this!”? Maybe it’s a movie they’re ranting about. Or a particular product. Or maybe it’s to see the sunset from this particular spot. Whatever it is, your friend comes to you and is enthusiastic about it. Even a little over-enthusiastic. To the point that maybe you begin to doubt it a little. Or to wonder about what is real and what is hype. It’s not that you don’t believe your friends experience, but more that you don’t have anything to compare to it yourself. You haven’t experienced it. And, so, to be able to offer your own testimony of the greatness of the movie, or the product, or the sunset, or whatever it is, you need to have your own experience. Just like Thomas.
The Gospel writer knows this. And writes in this pattern throughout John. Where someone hears about Jesus and needs more information. And, then, they receive what they need to come to their own experience of the life that Jesus is embodying.
Remember Nathanael, our earliest example. “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Or the woman at the well. “Sir, you have no bucket and the well is deep. Where do you get that living water?” Or the man born blind. Or Mary Magdalene on the first Easter morning: “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.”
Each person who meets Jesus. Needing more information. So that they can have their own individual experience with him.
I’d like to back us up a little in today’s story. In the section before the resurrected Jesus and Thomas meet, Jesus first appears to the rest of the disciples on the evening of that first Easter. He appears in the midst of them and offers them a blessing, “Peace be unto you.” Peace meaning shalom. That word from the Hebrew scriptures that connotes more than just peace, but a wholeness. A state of completeness.
Jesus then shows them his hands and his side. They have their own experience with Jesus. An experience that brings them much joy. And, probably, a lot of laughter, too. Then, Jesus once again offers them a blessing of peace. And commissions them: “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” Jesus then breathes on them. In the Hebrew, ruach. That breath of God. The Holy Spirit. “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.”
There’s something interesting about this last sentence. Verse 23 in chapter 20. The phrase “the sins of” are not there in the original Greek. For years, translators have just assumed that these words are assumed. That they match the pattern of the first phrase--”if you forgive the sins of any.” But more recent scholarship has begun to question this assumption. That perhaps these words should be assumed.
So, what happens if we take the assumed phrase out? How does that change the meaning of this sentence.
In the closest verbatim translation, it would read like this “Of whomever you forgive the sins, they [the sins] are forgiven to them; whoever you hold fast [meaning embrace], they are held fast.
Or, to make it more understandable, “If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven. If you hold fast to someone, they are held fast.”
If you hold fast to someone, they are held fast. This is what Jesus does for Thomas. He holds him fast. It’s what Jesus did for Nathanael, for the woman at the well, for the blind man, for Mary Magdalene, for the disciples in fear behind locked doors on that Easter evening, and for nearly every other character introduced to us in John, Jesus holds them fast through their doubt, or their fear, or their partial understanding or whatever else it is until they receive what they need to believe. Until they experience what they need for faith. This is what Jesus has been doing throughout John’s gospel. Holding each person fast until he or she has their own experience of belief.
And, when Jesus breathes the Holy Spirit onto the disciples, Jesus is making is possible for them to continue his work. To continue his work of “holding fast” onto those “who have not yet seen.” “Holding fast” to others along with the accompanying work of forgiving sins.
This, my friends, is what we are called to do in this place. In the midst of our doubt. Or our fear. Or our grief or our anger, we are called to hold fast to each other. To embrace and share in that brokenness. Because it is there, in the brokenness, in the embrace, in the holding fast, that God enters in. That God is incarnated within us. In, with, and under. God enters in, kills our brokenness and brings new life. Wholeness. Shalom. God brings life out of death. God resurrects us. Just like Jesus. And just like Thomas.
Knock, knock.
Who’s there?
Holly.
Holly who?
Hollylujah, Christ is risen!
Christ is risen indeed. Alleluia!
Amen.
Preached April 8, 2018, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Easter 2
Readings: Psalm 145:13-21; John 20:19-31.
Sunday, June 18, 2017
Divine Comedy
The Lord appeared to Abraham by the oaks of Mamre, as he sat at the entrance of his tent in the heat of the day. He looked up and saw three men standing near him. When he saw them, he ran from the tent entrance to meet them, and bowed down to the ground. He said, “My lord, if I find favor with you, do not pass by your servant. Let a little water be brought, and wash your feet, and rest yourselves under the tree. Let me bring a little bread, that you may refresh yourselves, and after that you may pass on—since you have come to your servant.” So they said, “Do as you have said.” And Abraham hastened into the tent to Sarah, and said, “Make ready quickly three measures of choice flour, knead it, and make cakes.” Abraham ran to the herd, and took a calf, tender and good, and gave it to the servant, who hastened to prepare it. Then he took curds and milk and the calf that he had prepared, and set it before them; and he stood by them under the tree while they ate.
They said to him, “Where is your wife Sarah?” And he said, “There, in the tent.” Then one said, “I will surely return to you in due season, and your wife Sarah shall have a son.” And Sarah was listening at the tent entrance behind him. Now Abraham and Sarah were old, advanced in age; it had ceased to be with Sarah after the manner of women. So Sarah laughed to herself, saying, “After I have grown old, and my husband is old, shall I have pleasure?” The Lord said to Abraham, “Why did Sarah laugh, and say, ‘Shall I indeed bear a child, now that I am old?’ Is anything too wonderful for the Lord? At the set time I will return to you, in due season, and Sarah shall have a son.” But Sarah denied, saying, “I did not laugh”; for she was afraid. He said, “Oh yes, you did laugh.”
The Lord dealt with Sarah as he had said, and the Lord did for Sarah as he had promised. Sarah conceived and bore Abraham a son in his old age, at the time of which God had spoken to him. Abraham gave the name Isaac to his son whom Sarah bore him. And Abraham circumcised his son Isaac when he was eight days old, as God had commanded him. Abraham was a hundred years old when his son Isaac was born to him. Now Sarah said, “God has brought laughter for me; everyone who hears will laugh with me.” And she said, “Who would ever have said to Abraham that Sarah would nurse children? Yet I have borne him a son in his old age.” Genesis 18:1-15; 21:1-7 (NRSV)
Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
Welcome to Ordinary Time. Or this liturgical season we also call “Time after Pentecost.” It’s a season we mark with green. Green paraments. Green stoles. Green banners. Green, a color that signifies growth. When lawns are growing. Gardens are growing, Crops are growing.
There’s growth in the church, too.
Our texts from the Gospel of Matthew go on for several weeks to explain to us what discipleship means, how we grow in our faith and how we grow in our response to God’s grace.
In our readings from the Old Testament (or Hebrew scripture) during this Ordinary time, we have two patterns to choose from. The first is a series of texts that are selected to complement the Matthew readings. The second pattern--the one we’ll be following over the next 12 weeks--tell us of the family stories of Abraham. Of God’s call to Abraham and covenant with him. It is these stories that will be the focus of my preaching. And, hopefully, the focus of your further study and thought at home.
We don’t often hear these stories. And so, this is an opportunity for us to dig deep into them. Some of us may have never heard these stories. For others, it may be the first time since childhood. Nevertheless, this is an opportunity for us to learn of Abraham and Sarah, and to see how God worked in their lives and, perhaps, envision how God might work in ours.
So, let’s begin.
Well, almost.
I say that because our story today doesn’t actually start at the beginning of Abraham’s story. Through a quirk in the liturgical season this year, we’ve lost a few chapters of the story.
We’ve missed God’s call to Abraham and his family to move from Ur in Mesopotamia down to Canaan. Seemingly, out of the blue, God calls Abraham to move away from his homeland, away from his family, away from his father’s household. And to make a long journey. Away to a place that is culturally foreign to him.
One of the things I’ve found interesting since moving here is how deep-rooted many families are in this state. Going back for generations. A few weeks ago I was talking to a family at the pantry--the Preston family, of the Preston Plantation in Trimble Co.. This family has lived in Kentucky for generations.
God’s call to Abraham to move from Ur to Canaan would have been like a call for the Preston’s to move from Bedford to Boston, Massachusetts. To a land completely different. Away from their family and their roots. To a place culturally foreign to them.
With God’s call, though, came a promise. A threefold promise. God promised to make of Abraham a great nation. God promised that Abraham’s name would be respected for generations. And God promised to bless him so that he could be a blessing to all the families of the earth.
And, so, they set out. Abraham, Sarah, and Lot, Abraham’s nephew. Eventually, they made it to Canaan. At first, they didn’t settle down. They lived a rather nomadic life, moving down to Egypt, then up to southern Canaan, and a few more places in between. And, also, in between, Abraham and Lot decided to go their separate ways.
After a while, Abraham and Sarah arrived in Hebron. It was there, in Hebron, located between the Dead Sea and the Mediterranean, that they settled. In Canaan. Near--as our story reads--near the “oaks of Mamre.”
Time passed. Abraham and Sarah were getting on in years. And still, no children. The promise from God that they were the beginning of a great nation hung over them. So, they decided to take things into their own hands.
We have a tendency as human beings to do that, don’t we? We become impatient. Or we seek to control our circumstances. Or even to control God and God’s promises.
Abraham and Sarah were no different that we. They developed a plan. Abraham decided that his chief servant, his head of household, would become his heir.
God’s response? “No, I don’t think so. That’s not what I promised you, Abraham. I promised you that you would have a son. A blood heir. And from this blood relative, I promised you would become a great people.”
So, Abraham and Sarah developed a second plan. Sarah offered her maid-servant, Hagar, to Abraham, so that Abraham could have a son who was of his own flesh and blood. And, that worked. For a moment.
Until God, once again, said, “No. This isn’t my plan for you. My plan is that you will have a son with Sarah.” Then, God renewed the covenant with Abraham. Promising, once again, that Abraham would be the father of nations. And calling for a visible mark, a reminder of this promise, upon every male in Abraham’s household.
Abraham’s response? Well, to the men in this room, if God came to you at age 99 and said you would be the father of many nations, what would your response be?
Yes. Abraham laughed. He was no different. Yet, even in the midst of his own doubt and cynicism, and the ridiculousness of God’s plan, he went along with it. And, he, along with all of the men in his household, was circumcised.
And Abraham and Sarah, once again, waited.
It is here, finally, that today’s story picks up. It open with the sentence, “The Lord appeared to Abraham at the oaks of Mamre while he sat at the entrance of his tent in the day’s heat.” In reading this, we know that God appeared to Abraham. Abraham, however, didn’t. At least, not initially.
What Abraham experienced that day, as he was sitting in his tent to get away from the heat of the day, three men approached him. He sees them and immediately runs to them to invite them in. Do you notice that Abraham goes out to them?
Then, Abraham shows deep hospitality to them. It’s similar to the hospitality that I’ve experienced myself, both in Texas and here.
He brings his guests to the shade of the nearby trees. He brings them water to wash their feet and to drink and refresh themselves. And then he really opens the hospitality floodgates. He tells Sarah to prepare bread. And this isn’t any small amount. According to our story, he tells her to get 23 quarts of flour and make bread out of it. (That’s close to 25 loaves of bread.) And he tells his servant to kill one of the calves and to cook it.
Abraham then serves a sumptuous feast of veal and bread and butter and milk, and I’m sure there probably was a little wine in there, too. It was amazing hospitality!
As they are eating, these three strangers reveal the purpose of their visit. It’s to announce that within the next year, Sarah, at around age 99, and Abraham, at around age 100, will have a child. A boy, named Isaac.
Now, Sarah, has not been present at this meal. She is not allowed there culturally. But, like any good wife, she’s listening in. And when she hears this announcement, she, like Abraham, laughs.
I put this proposition out to the WISE group on Thursday. I asked them how they might respond if God came to them and said that, at age 90 (I knocked down ten years!), they would get pregnant and give birth to a child.
They, laughed, too. Just like Sarah.
We are not that different from Abraham and Sarah. God promises these amazing things from inconceivable people and places and we laugh. Maybe it’s doubt. Maybe it’s cynicism. Maybe it’s because so often we make all of these great plans and everything just seems to fall apart.
But, it is there. In the midst of our cynicism. And our doubt. And our failed plans. And our laughter. It is there, that God steps in. Like some great divine comedy. God steps in and turns it all around to accomplish God’s purpose. Just like Abraham and Sarah. Just like us.
And, that, my friends, in this ordinary time, is anything but ordinary. Amen.
Preached June 18, 2017, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
2nd Sunday after Pentecost
Readings: Genesis 18:1-15, 21:1-7; Psalm 116:1-2, 12-19; Romans 5:1-8; Matthew 9:35-10:8.
They said to him, “Where is your wife Sarah?” And he said, “There, in the tent.” Then one said, “I will surely return to you in due season, and your wife Sarah shall have a son.” And Sarah was listening at the tent entrance behind him. Now Abraham and Sarah were old, advanced in age; it had ceased to be with Sarah after the manner of women. So Sarah laughed to herself, saying, “After I have grown old, and my husband is old, shall I have pleasure?” The Lord said to Abraham, “Why did Sarah laugh, and say, ‘Shall I indeed bear a child, now that I am old?’ Is anything too wonderful for the Lord? At the set time I will return to you, in due season, and Sarah shall have a son.” But Sarah denied, saying, “I did not laugh”; for she was afraid. He said, “Oh yes, you did laugh.”
The Lord dealt with Sarah as he had said, and the Lord did for Sarah as he had promised. Sarah conceived and bore Abraham a son in his old age, at the time of which God had spoken to him. Abraham gave the name Isaac to his son whom Sarah bore him. And Abraham circumcised his son Isaac when he was eight days old, as God had commanded him. Abraham was a hundred years old when his son Isaac was born to him. Now Sarah said, “God has brought laughter for me; everyone who hears will laugh with me.” And she said, “Who would ever have said to Abraham that Sarah would nurse children? Yet I have borne him a son in his old age.” Genesis 18:1-15; 21:1-7 (NRSV)
Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
Welcome to Ordinary Time. Or this liturgical season we also call “Time after Pentecost.” It’s a season we mark with green. Green paraments. Green stoles. Green banners. Green, a color that signifies growth. When lawns are growing. Gardens are growing, Crops are growing.
There’s growth in the church, too.
Our texts from the Gospel of Matthew go on for several weeks to explain to us what discipleship means, how we grow in our faith and how we grow in our response to God’s grace.
In our readings from the Old Testament (or Hebrew scripture) during this Ordinary time, we have two patterns to choose from. The first is a series of texts that are selected to complement the Matthew readings. The second pattern--the one we’ll be following over the next 12 weeks--tell us of the family stories of Abraham. Of God’s call to Abraham and covenant with him. It is these stories that will be the focus of my preaching. And, hopefully, the focus of your further study and thought at home.
We don’t often hear these stories. And so, this is an opportunity for us to dig deep into them. Some of us may have never heard these stories. For others, it may be the first time since childhood. Nevertheless, this is an opportunity for us to learn of Abraham and Sarah, and to see how God worked in their lives and, perhaps, envision how God might work in ours.
So, let’s begin.
Well, almost.
I say that because our story today doesn’t actually start at the beginning of Abraham’s story. Through a quirk in the liturgical season this year, we’ve lost a few chapters of the story.
We’ve missed God’s call to Abraham and his family to move from Ur in Mesopotamia down to Canaan. Seemingly, out of the blue, God calls Abraham to move away from his homeland, away from his family, away from his father’s household. And to make a long journey. Away to a place that is culturally foreign to him.
One of the things I’ve found interesting since moving here is how deep-rooted many families are in this state. Going back for generations. A few weeks ago I was talking to a family at the pantry--the Preston family, of the Preston Plantation in Trimble Co.. This family has lived in Kentucky for generations.
God’s call to Abraham to move from Ur to Canaan would have been like a call for the Preston’s to move from Bedford to Boston, Massachusetts. To a land completely different. Away from their family and their roots. To a place culturally foreign to them.
With God’s call, though, came a promise. A threefold promise. God promised to make of Abraham a great nation. God promised that Abraham’s name would be respected for generations. And God promised to bless him so that he could be a blessing to all the families of the earth.
And, so, they set out. Abraham, Sarah, and Lot, Abraham’s nephew. Eventually, they made it to Canaan. At first, they didn’t settle down. They lived a rather nomadic life, moving down to Egypt, then up to southern Canaan, and a few more places in between. And, also, in between, Abraham and Lot decided to go their separate ways.
After a while, Abraham and Sarah arrived in Hebron. It was there, in Hebron, located between the Dead Sea and the Mediterranean, that they settled. In Canaan. Near--as our story reads--near the “oaks of Mamre.”
Time passed. Abraham and Sarah were getting on in years. And still, no children. The promise from God that they were the beginning of a great nation hung over them. So, they decided to take things into their own hands.
We have a tendency as human beings to do that, don’t we? We become impatient. Or we seek to control our circumstances. Or even to control God and God’s promises.
Abraham and Sarah were no different that we. They developed a plan. Abraham decided that his chief servant, his head of household, would become his heir.
God’s response? “No, I don’t think so. That’s not what I promised you, Abraham. I promised you that you would have a son. A blood heir. And from this blood relative, I promised you would become a great people.”
So, Abraham and Sarah developed a second plan. Sarah offered her maid-servant, Hagar, to Abraham, so that Abraham could have a son who was of his own flesh and blood. And, that worked. For a moment.
Until God, once again, said, “No. This isn’t my plan for you. My plan is that you will have a son with Sarah.” Then, God renewed the covenant with Abraham. Promising, once again, that Abraham would be the father of nations. And calling for a visible mark, a reminder of this promise, upon every male in Abraham’s household.
Abraham’s response? Well, to the men in this room, if God came to you at age 99 and said you would be the father of many nations, what would your response be?
Yes. Abraham laughed. He was no different. Yet, even in the midst of his own doubt and cynicism, and the ridiculousness of God’s plan, he went along with it. And, he, along with all of the men in his household, was circumcised.
And Abraham and Sarah, once again, waited.
It is here, finally, that today’s story picks up. It open with the sentence, “The Lord appeared to Abraham at the oaks of Mamre while he sat at the entrance of his tent in the day’s heat.” In reading this, we know that God appeared to Abraham. Abraham, however, didn’t. At least, not initially.
What Abraham experienced that day, as he was sitting in his tent to get away from the heat of the day, three men approached him. He sees them and immediately runs to them to invite them in. Do you notice that Abraham goes out to them?
Then, Abraham shows deep hospitality to them. It’s similar to the hospitality that I’ve experienced myself, both in Texas and here.
He brings his guests to the shade of the nearby trees. He brings them water to wash their feet and to drink and refresh themselves. And then he really opens the hospitality floodgates. He tells Sarah to prepare bread. And this isn’t any small amount. According to our story, he tells her to get 23 quarts of flour and make bread out of it. (That’s close to 25 loaves of bread.) And he tells his servant to kill one of the calves and to cook it.
Abraham then serves a sumptuous feast of veal and bread and butter and milk, and I’m sure there probably was a little wine in there, too. It was amazing hospitality!
As they are eating, these three strangers reveal the purpose of their visit. It’s to announce that within the next year, Sarah, at around age 99, and Abraham, at around age 100, will have a child. A boy, named Isaac.
Now, Sarah, has not been present at this meal. She is not allowed there culturally. But, like any good wife, she’s listening in. And when she hears this announcement, she, like Abraham, laughs.
I put this proposition out to the WISE group on Thursday. I asked them how they might respond if God came to them and said that, at age 90 (I knocked down ten years!), they would get pregnant and give birth to a child.
They, laughed, too. Just like Sarah.
We are not that different from Abraham and Sarah. God promises these amazing things from inconceivable people and places and we laugh. Maybe it’s doubt. Maybe it’s cynicism. Maybe it’s because so often we make all of these great plans and everything just seems to fall apart.
But, it is there. In the midst of our cynicism. And our doubt. And our failed plans. And our laughter. It is there, that God steps in. Like some great divine comedy. God steps in and turns it all around to accomplish God’s purpose. Just like Abraham and Sarah. Just like us.
And, that, my friends, in this ordinary time, is anything but ordinary. Amen.
2nd Sunday after Pentecost
Readings: Genesis 18:1-15, 21:1-7; Psalm 116:1-2, 12-19; Romans 5:1-8; Matthew 9:35-10:8.
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