The Passover of the Jews was near, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem. In the temple he found people selling cattle, sheep, and doves, and the money changers seated at their tables. Making a whip of cords, he drove all of them out of the temple, both the sheep and the cattle. He also poured out the coins of the money changers and overturned their tables. He told those who were selling the doves, “Take these things out of here! Stop making my Father’s house a marketplace!” His disciples remembered that it was written, “Zeal for your house will consume me.” The Jews then said to him, “What sign can you show us for doing this?” Jesus answered them, “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.” The Jews then said, “This temple has been under construction for forty-six years, and will you raise it up in three days?” But he was speaking of the temple of his body. After he was raised from the dead, his disciples remembered that he had said this; and they believed the scripture and the word that Jesus had spoken.
When he was in Jerusalem during the Passover festival, many believed in his name because they saw the signs that he was doing. But Jesus on his part would not entrust himself to them, because he knew all people and needed no one to testify about anyone; for he himself knew what was in everyone. John 2:13-25 (NRSV)
Grace and peace to you from our Lord and Savior, the Messiah, who is Christ, the Lord. Amen.
I don’t know if you’re like me, but, I’m one of those people who, as each year draws to a close, likes to read all the articles and listen to the reports that recap the last year’s events and tries to put them into a broader, longer-term perspective. I’m always trying to make sense of things that have happened that, in the larger scheme of politics or economics or from a societal standpoint have made an impact.
Sometimes, the events in those annual lists are things that have had just a small effect. At other times, they have made huge and lasting impacts on our world.
What comes to mind for you, for example, if I mention the fall of 2008? For those of us who lived through it, we know the huge impact--the radical shift--that the one week in September made upon not just our economy, but the economy of the entire world.
Or think about how the world--and maybe even your life--has changed since the iPhone was created just over ten years ago. Before 2007, we didn’t know what an “app” was. We had no way of being constantly connected to the internet. We had likely never used a touch-screen before. Or known what “pinch-to-zoom” meant. Or taken a “selfie,” much less upload it to Facebook or Snapchat or Instagram. Or even known what “outsourcing” was or thought about where our devices came from or heard much about labor abuses in Chinese iPhone factories.
It seems to me that what often appear at first to be fairly small, insignificant things or events end up having a huge impact. They can make a radical shift in the way our world operates or understands things.
It is this is what is happening in our story today. A seemingly small incident in the temple that is really a radical shift. A radical shift that will completely change faith and our understanding of God. And a radical shift that not only changes Judaism and the temple, but still impacts us as believers today, some two millennia later.
First of all, it is important to note that this story--the cleansing of the temple--is located in John in a very different spot in each of the other three gospels--Matthew, Mark, and Luke. Unlike in John, where it is located at the beginning of Jesus’ public ministry, in the other three--the synoptic Gospels, It is located at the end of Jesus’ ministry. In the synoptics, it is Jesus’ actions in the temple that are the catalyst for the anger of the Jewish leadership and their plot to kill him. In other words, this story in the synoptic Gospels is the beginning of the end of Jesus’ ministry and, ultimately, his life.
So, why does John put this story at the beginning of the Jesus’ public ministry?
If you remember all of our stories from the Hebrew Scripture last year, perhaps you will recall that, for Israel, the temple in Jerusalem was central to their worship. It was in the temple, in the Holy of Holies, where God’s promised to remain. This is why the city of Jerusalem and, more specifically, the temple was central to all of Israel’s religious practice. This is why the Jewish people trekked days and miles to Jerusalem to worship for the major feasts. This is why Israel was so devastated that Jerusalem was captured and the temple destroyed by the Babylonians. This is also why it was so important to the Jewish people that the temple be rebuilt. Everything about their faith, their spiritual lives, and their religion was centered in the temple in Jerusalem.
Central to Israel’s worship practices at the temple was the sacrifice of animals. Everyone was required under liturgical law to make an animal sacrifice. If you were traveling hundreds of miles to worship, it was pretty impractical for you to bring along a bull, or a ram, or a dove. So, it was only practical that, when you got to Jerusalem, you needed to purchase an animal to sacrifice. So, eventually, a marketplace grew up around the temple, where merchants began to offer for the people’s convenience animals for sale for temple sacrifice.
In the same way, many people came from places where different currency was used. So, when they arrived in Jerusalem, they need to exchange their currency for money that would work in Jerusalem. Thus, the Jewish version of American Express arose, where people could do this.
So, the marketplaces that were happening around the temple were very practical and they were needed by the Israelites journeying to Jerusalem to worship. So, in John--please note that the perspective in John is different than in the other gospels--in John, when Jesus drives the merchants out of the temple, it is not necessarily because Jesus believes that the marketplace is evil. There is no mention by John that any financial abuses were happening at the temple.
Instead, it seems that Jesus is doing this to send a message about who he is and what his role is in this fourth Gospel. Jesus is making a bold statement, not so much “against” anything, but rather “for” something. For his authority to represent and reveal who the God of the temple is, whom Jesus knows intimately as his Father. And as a result of his actions in the temple, Jesus is about to inaugurate a radical shift in the understanding of the Jewish people as to where God’s presence is located.
His actions lead to a confrontation. “Who are you?” the Jewish leaders ask. “What gives you the authority to do what you’ve done?” They challenge him.
Jesus responds with these words: “Destroy this temple and in three days I will raise it up.”
It is clear that the Jewish leadership don’t understand the double-meaning behind his words. In fact, it is not only the Jewish leadership that misunderstand, it is also Jesus’ disciples. Note the language in verse 22: “After he was raised from the dead, his disciples remembered that he had said this; and they believed the scripture and the word that Jesus had spoken.” They, themselves, didn’t fully understand until after the resurrection. And we, some 2,000 years later, get that Jesus was referring to his body as a temple and, particularly to his coming crucifixion and his resurrection.
But, what was the deeper point that Jesus was trying to make here? To get the Jewish leadership to understand?
What was the deeper point Jesus was trying to make here?
His point was that God was no longer going to be restricted to the temple. In fact, it was that God was right there. Right in front of them. Jesus was telling them that God’s Spirit would no longer live in a building, but it would live in him and then, after he had ascended, it would be poured out into every human heart. No longer was God to be found only in the temple. God would be found in the heart of every human being.
This was radical for them. It is still a radical idea for us, too.
Can you see what God is giving? Do you see Jesus present right now in front of you? Here, in the Word made flesh? Here, in the bread and the wine? And in the heart of every single person you meet? Do you see God in front of you?
That is the message of Epiphany. God is right here in front of you. God is present in the flesh, incarnated for you and for me and for all people everywhere.
Come. And see.
Amen.
Preached January 21, 2018, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
3rd Sunday after the Epiphany
Readings: Psalm 127:1-2; John 2:13-25
After the sabbath, as the first day of the week was dawning, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to see the tomb. And suddenly there was a great earthquake; for an angel of the Lord, descending from heaven, came and rolled back the stone and sat on it. His appearance was like lightning, and his clothing white as snow. For fear of him the guards shook and became like dead men. But the angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid; I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. He is not here; for he has been raised, as he said. Come, see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples, ‘He has been raised from the dead, and indeed he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him.’ This is my message for you.” So they left the tomb quickly with fear and great joy, and ran to tell his disciples. Suddenly Jesus met them and said, “Greetings!” And they came to him, took hold of his feet, and worshiped him. Then Jesus said to them, “Do not be afraid; go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see me.” (Matthew 28:1-10 NRSV)
Alleluia! Christ is risen!
Christ is risen indeed! Alleluia!
Grace and peace to you, sisters and brothers, from our risen and triumphant Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ! Amen.
“Look! There was a great earthquake!” This is how the Matthew story of the resurrection begins today. “Look! There was a great earthquake!”
After having lived in Southern California for nearly 40 years, I can guarantee you that, if there was an earthquake--a great earthquake as our story says--the first words out of my mouth would not have been “Look!”
I remember my first earthquake. I was 19. Naive. Relatively new to the big city. We had gathered at the home of my aunt and uncle for New Year’s Day. It was beautiful and warm. One of those glorious days you get so accustomed to there. I was sitting on a chair in the corner of the living room and, all of a sudden, my chair began to sway back and forth. I did not know what was happening. All I could do was hang on. And wait. It was as if, for just a moment, time was suspended.
And then 10 seconds later (It felt like hours!), it stopped. You could sense the collective sigh of relief. And then everyone around me saying, “Did you feel that?” “That wasn’t so bad!” “I wonder where the epicenter was.” It was then, that I realized that I had experienced my first earthquake.
Over the years of my life there, I experienced many. They come in all different shapes and sizes. Some are gentle and rolling. Others are short and sharp--like if a truck hit your house. Some get stronger and stronger, while you hold your breath and wait to decide if this is the big one and you should take cover under a table or a door jam. A few, just a very few, are big and can be violent. The Northridge earthquake in 1994 literally threw me out of bed, even though I lived 45 miles away from its epicenter.
The science of earthquakes is pretty simple. Just under the surface of the earth, there are many pieces that make up the skin that cover the deeper layers, just like pieces of a puzzle. These pieces are called tectonic plates. They are continually moving and shifting. Sometimes, their edges get stuck, while the rest of the plate keeps moving. When the plate has moved far enough, the edges unstick and all of that built up energy is released. This sends waves of energy outward and causes what we call an earthquake.
Once this movement happens, there is nothing you can do. It cannot be predicted. There is no advance warning. Nowhere to go to run or hide from it. Like many other forms of natural disaster, nothing is safe. Nowhere is safe.
Once it happens, there is no going back. The plates have shifted and been displaced. The entire setting has now been altered. Rearranged.
So, it is entirely fitting that, today, our resurrection story begins with an earthquake. Because throughout scripture, it is the presence of an earthquake that signals the presence of God. A theophany, which is a manifestation of God in the Bible that is tangible and real to our human sensibility. Where God appears unexpectedly. Where everything is changed. Where the cosmic order has been interrupted. Disrupted, really. Disrupted by God.
I especially appreciate the irony in Matthew’s resurrection story. Because after this great earthquake, there is another quaking. It is that of the guards. They had been placed at the entrance to the tomb by Pilate at the request of the chief priests and the Pharisees. Afraid the disciples would steal the body of Jesus and then proclaim that Jesus had fulfilled his own prediction of his resurrection, they had sealed the tomb and posted guards.
But the empires of our world are no match for the empire of God. Our text reads that the guards were so terrified of the angel of the Lord that they literally began to quake. And they became like dead men.
This turnaround shows the ironic character of the good news. The guards are now dead men. Jesus is alive. The empire of death is dead. The empire of God’s life-giving power now rules.
This is the cosmic implication of our story today, a story that begins with an earthquake. No place on earth is safe from the risen Lord. No person is safe or can fully buffer themselves from the divine reality. No matter how we choose to ignore or resist God’s presence or simply expect things to remain the same, God breaks in. Like the release of pressure from those stuck tectonic plates. And we are forever changed.
This is what happened that first Easter. After the women heard the news of Jesus’ resurrection, as they hurried in their awe and excitement to tell the disciples, Jesus met them along the way. Once again, breaking into their lives. Sending them to tell the other disciples to meet him in Galilee. And from there, sending them out to do the mission of the church. It is clear that Jesus’ resurrection empowers and leads to the mission of the church. Contemporary theologian N.T. Wright summarizes it well: “Jesus’ resurrection is the beginning of God’s new project. Not to snatch people away from earth to heaven but to colonize earth with the life of heaven. That, after all, is what the Lord’s Prayer is about.” Your kingdom come. Your will be done here on earth as it is in heaven.
Do we recognize that? Do we watch for it? Do we see God at work in our world today? In the midst of a world that seems so violent and chaotic, so fearful and insecure, so hopeless and despairing and grief-stricken at times?
My former pastor in Texas, Michael Coffey, expresses this well in his poem, entitled “The Resurrection Theater of the Absurd.”
You surprised me when you
stepped on my grief and rudely interrupted
my expectations for the show to end
when I assumed we would walk out in darkness
down city streets and go for a martini and talk about
that cross and the dramatic lighting and all that emptiness after
and then we could pick up our heavy heads
and hold them lopsided as we went on our mournful way
living the grey life we always imagined.
But then you, you wizard of astonishment,
you author of unexpected epilogues
you springtime of wildflowers in greened up dead fields
you resurrected my small mind above the predictable plot formulas
and opened up the stone laid over my heart,
so heavy, and yet with you, so easily, so gracefully rolled away.
God’s life-creating work is here in our world. It is here if we look for it. It is here in the acts of love and of care and of service that, if we look for them, we can see them. And the joy that surrounds them. If only we are open enough to see them. To see the life that is breaking out all around us. And to hear the command of Jesus to the women, a command that becomes a command for all of us:
Stop being afraid! God--this wizard of astonishment, this author of unexpected epilogues, this springtime of wildflowers in greened up dead fields, this master of shakeups--has defeated death. Rejoice! Rejoice! And share the good news!
Alleluia! Christ is risen!
Christ is risen indeed! Alleluia!
Amen.
Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb. So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.” Then Peter and the other disciple set out and went toward the tomb. The two were running together, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. He bent down to look in and saw the linen wrappings lying there, but he did not go in. Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb. He saw the linen wrappings lying there, and the cloth that had been on Jesus’ head, not lying with the linen wrappings but rolled up in a place by itself. Then the other disciple, who reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed; for as yet they did not understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead. Then the disciples returned to their homes.
But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb; and she saw two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had been lying, one at the head and the other at the feet. They said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping?” She said to them, “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.” When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?” Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.” Jesus said to her, “Mary!” She turned and said to him in Hebrew, “Rabbouni!” (which means Teacher). Jesus said to her, “Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and say to them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’” Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord”; and she told them that he had said these things to her. (John 20:1-18 NRSV)
Why on earth do we do this? These Three Days? The meal and footwashing and holy communion of Maundy Thursday. The journey to the crucifixion of Jesus on the cross on Good Friday. The wandering tonight from the new fire to the water to this place where we have heard some the stories of our faith, for some of us, stories we have grown up hearing and knowing and loving, and then the meal, holy communion. Why on earth do we do all of this?
For an answer, we must begin with our gospel lesson tonight, our reading from John.
It is early in the morning on that first day of the week after Jesus’ death. After his internment. It is before light. Still dark.
Mary has come to the tomb. Why? This gospel writer doesn’t tell us. Other gospels suggest that the women had gone to the tomb to anoint Jesus’ body. If you recall, Jesus was buried after the beginning of the Sabbath and there simply hadn’t been time to properly anoint his body, to fully prepare it for burial as was required under Jewish burial laws.
Perhaps this was why Mary had gone there, in the early light, by herself. We simply don’t know.
What we do know, however, is that when she arrived, perhaps just as the light was beginning to break, she saw that the stone had been rolled away from the entrance to the Jesus’ tomb.
I wonder what she was thinking at that moment. Our lesson tells us that she never went inside the tomb. I wonder why not. Is is possible she thought there might be grave-robbers inside? After all, we know that this was a common problem then. Or, perhaps, it was just too dark, that even if she had gone inside she wouldn’t have been able to see anything anyway. Or maybe, just maybe, the thought of seeing Jesus’ body there--lifeless--was simply too much. Too hard to take. Too real to witness.
She had been there when Jesus had died. Standing at a distance with the other women, after the rest of the disciples had fled. She had seen him die. And with it, her hopes and her dreams.
What had she felt that day and the next? Grief and sadness? Despair and hopelessness? Bewilderment and confusion? Fearful? Perhaps, all of these emotions.
That week for me in 1992 had started like most others. I had a busy life. I was a part-time church musician and, so, had started out the week on Sunday playing for two worship services, then, spending the afternoon doing laundry and getting myself and my son ready for another week of work and school. Monday came. And the week seemed pretty normal, busy for us. But that was nothing new. It was normal, until the next night. Until that Tuesday night.
On that night, I got a call from my mother. She was calling to let me know that she had been diagnosed with breast cancer. This woman, who was the rock of our family. Who had carried our family through the nearly impossible grief and sadness of my father’s early death. This woman, who had always been such an example for me of strength and faith and trust. Diagnosed with cancer.
But, it didn’t stop there. Within 24 hours, I had another call. This time from my older sister. Another source of strength for me as I had witnessed her in her late twenties fight cancer and win, we thought. Just weeks away from that 5 year remission mark and the title of “cancer free.” She was calling to tell me that she, too, had cancer. Once again. That it had returned.
It is these kinds of moments when it can simply feel as though your whole world is crashing down around you. When you are blinded by the grief and sadness. By the sense of despair and hopelessness. By all of the bewilderment and confusion. By the fear. Nothing makes sense anymore. It feels as though you are simply floundering in the darkness.
Just like Mary that early morning on the first day of the new week.
And, then, just like Mary, you hear your name called by God. “Karleen, do you remember? Do you remember the story of creation? How I brought wholeness and life out of the chaos and darkness?
Do you remember? Do you remember the story of Noah? How I brought a new world out of the brokenness and sin of the old? How when you see a rainbow you can remember my promise that, never again, would a flood destroy the whole earth?
Do you remember? Do you remember how I delivered my people Israel out of slavery and brought them to new life in the land of milk and honey?
Do you remember? Do you remember how in your baptism I delivered you from sin and death to new life among my people, just as Lacey tonight has been brought to new life in Christ?
Do you remember? Do you remember my promise that in this bread and wine I am present here and now and forever?
Do you remember? That every time we have feel surrounded by whatever darkness it is we cannot seem to see the end of, God calls our name. And, then, we remember. We remember that God is faithful. Throughout all of the arc of salvation history and the short blip of our own lives, God has been and continues to be faithful.
No, it doesn’t mean that there has always been healing. Or that everything has gone the way we wanted. But what we remember, time and time again, is God faithfully at work. Bringing new life out of death. Light out of darkness. Order out of the chaos.
This is why we do this. These Three Days. This is why on earth we do this.
So that, in those darkest moments, we might, like Mary, remember. We might remember God’s faithfulness.
And like Mary, respond. Saying “Rabbouni” and go out and witness to all the world, proclaiming, “I have seen the Lord!”
Amen.
Preached at Grace and Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY, on April 15, 2017.
Easter Vigil (Year A).
Readings: Genesis 1:1-2:4a; Genesis 7:1-5, 11-18, 8:6-18, 9:8-13; Exodus 14:10-31, 15:20-21; Isaiah 55:1-11; Daniel 3:1-29; Romans 6:3-11; John 20:1-18.
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? 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. -John 3:1-17 (CEB)
Grace and peace to you from God, our Father, and from our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.
I love ritual. That sounds pretty boring, doesn’t it? But, I admit it. I love ritual. I’m a creature of habit. Whether it’s my morning ritual that begins each day, hopefully, with a cup of coffee, or whether it’s our weekly pattern of worship, our ritual, that follows the order of the mass that comes down to us from the early church--whatever the ritual, I love it.
So, it’s probably no wonder that, in seminary, my favorite courses were those about the rituals of the church, especially those of the early church. For me, studying them has helped me better understand many of the rituals that we follow today--nearly all of which came out of the early church. Studying them also gives me a deeper understanding of Scripture and the beliefs of the early church, beliefs that arose out of the Hebrew scriptures and those, written by the apostles, that we call the New Testament.
Last week, we began over these 40 days of Lent to take a look at our our ritual of baptism. We began to look at it, thinking that, if we better understand the promises made in this ritual, we might better become the baptismal people we profess to be. That we might better become the story we tell.
We began last week with the three renunciations. Those three questions asked of every baptismal candidate--questions that we still ask today. Do you renounce the devil? Do you renounce the ways of the world? Do you renounce the ways of sin?
In the early church, before these three renunciations, the candidates would have been stripped of all clothing. Stripped of their jewelry. Stripped away of anything that might suggest their former life. They would then be led naked, down into the water. Into a river or a moving stream. It was here, waste-deep in water, that they would be turned to face west. West. The place of the setting sun. Of the beginning of darkness. Of night. Or, symbolically, the place of unbelief.
Facing west, they would speak the three renunciations, declaring their intent to renounce all those things that separate us from God. Then, the priest would blow three times into each candidate’s nostrils. This blowing or breath was a ritual intended to signify the coming of the Spirit. The in-breathing of the Holy Spirit. The entry of the breath of God.
Next, although there are some variations in the early rituals, the candidates would then be anointed on the forehead and the chest with oil--an “Oil of Catechumens.” This anointing symbolized the need of each person for the help and strength of God to sever the bondage of the past and to overcome the opposition of the devil and the powers of darkness so that they might profess their faith, come to baptism, and be claimed as a child of God.
Once this anointing with oil was concluded, the candidates were, once again, asked three questions. These questions, though, were unlike the previous renunciations. This time, the questions were about beliefs. They are the same questions we ask today.
“Do you believe in God the Father?”
“Do you believe in Jesus Christ, the Son of God?”
“Do you believe in God the Holy Spirit?”
Do you believe?
Believing. That’s the point of our Gospel text today. The reason Nicodemus came to Jesus at night. In the dark. In unbelief. Seeking to believe.
Oh, perhaps, Nicodemus was on his way to believing. After all, he and the others had witnessed the signs--the miracles--Jesus did. And, they had decided that no one could do this things unless they were of God.
But seeing the signs is not enough. The kingdom of God can’t be seen with physical eyes. Rather it is a reality that can only be perceived through the eyes of the Spirit, after a person has been born “anew” or “from above.” The kingdom of God can only be seen by those who have experienced a spiritual rebirth. Who have been “born again.”
Now, being “born again” is not a re-commitment. It isn’t a decision we make once we’re past the age of consent.
To be “born again” or to be “born from above” is a spiritual rebirth that is worked in us by God through the power of the Holy Spirit. It is a spiritual rebirth into the family of God, where, just like a child, we recognize that our entire existence depends upon God. That we are fully dependent upon and trust in God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit. For everything we need.
To be “born again” is to recognize that there is nothing we do to receive this new birth--that it is a call from God through the Holy Spirit to enter into full relationship with God. To come into the full presence of God and to find wholeness and new life.
To be “born again” is to know that God’s desire is that the whole world would come to be saved, to gain eternal life. God’s desire is not to judge the world, but to save the world.
And to be “born again” is to know that in our baptism and every Sunday when we say the words of the Creed, “I believe,” we are saying that we trust. We trust in God the Father Almighty. We trust in Jesus Christ. We trust in the Holy Spirit. We trust. And, in trusting, we are doing much, much more than simply consenting to a belief in a particular Christian doctrine. We are giving witness of this relationship with God to the entire world.
That’s what Jesus was offering Nicodemus--to come into the same relationship and to exist in the presence of God. But, eventually, he did. And eventually it was he, along with others, who anointed and buried the body of Christ after his death on the cross.
Last week, I sent you home with a wilderness stone. It was something to keep in your pocket during the week to remind you that, when you are tested, Jesus has passed the test for you.
This week, as we leave worship, I will be giving you a small bottle of anointing oil. May you use this during the week, perhaps by marking the sign of the cross on your forehead or by anointing your hands in service. May this be, as it was in the baptismal rituals of the early church--may this be a reminder to you that in your own rebirth, God has claimed you. Claimed you to be God’s own child, claimed you to be in full relationship with God, and claimed you to be given new life in God’s kingdom. Forever and ever.
This is what we believe. This is what we trust.
Amen.
Preached at Grace and Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Second Sunday in Lent.
Readings: Genesis 12:1-4a; Psalm 121; Romans 4:1-5, 13-17; John 3:1-17.
