Divine Utilities - Plugged In, Connected and Empowered

John 14:15-21

As human beings we are simply not wired to be alone. We are wired to be in, to live in, relationship, and I mean that in the broadest sense. There are many of us who, for various reasons live by ourselves. But we are connected through a broad range of threads drawing us to other people, and linking us in profound ways to each other. Regardless of which Genesis creation story you read, we are told that once God had labored to produce the magnificent creation, and before God was truly done with that original creative work, God went about creating humankind. First, God created Adam. And once God had set the first human in the garden, God decided that it wasn’t good that the man should be alone with only animals to keep him company, so God created woman.

For better or worse, from that time forward the nature of human kind has been that we are made for living in relationship to one another. We are connected. Even more importantly, we are made for relationship with God. Of course God envisioned and designed the perfect kind of relationships, and though we have challenged God’s vision and design over the ensuing millennia, still, God persists in building, creating and sustaining relationship with us and for us. And because connectedness is our nature, the opposite condition – being alone - frightens most of us. In fact the thought of being left alone, of being isolated and abandoned terrifies us.

It is that fear, I think, that drives us to thoughts of boogey men and monstrous creatures lurking around us when as children- or adults - we lay alone in our beds at night – that and a hefty dose of Grimm’s fairy tales, Disney movies, or whatever the conveyors of evil and malevolence are for you these days. There is security in numbers; there is safety in company; there is confidence within supportive relationships and networks.

In her book, Gospel Medicine, Barbara Bradford Taylor shares her experience of being the eldest of three daughters, and therefore the designated babysitter in the family from about the time she was twelve years old. Each time she would be left to care for her siblings, more or less the same scenario would play itself out. After receiving from her parents both the pep talk about how much they trusted her because she was so responsible, and then all the necessary instructions, including emergency numbers and protocols for what to do in case something should go wrong, she would walk with her parents to the door, where everyone would kiss goodbye. Then, Barbara writes, “the lock clicked into place, and a new era began. I was in charge. Turning around to face my new responsibilities, what I saw were my sisters’ faces, looking at me with something between hope and fear. They knew I was no substitute for what they had just lost, but since I was all they had they were willing to try.”

Taylor then describes how everyone would be agreeable for a while, as they played games and ate their snacks. But eventually, as the night went on they all got crankier and crankier. “Where are mommy and daddy?” the younger girls would ask. “Where did they go? When will they come back? I told them over and over again,” Bradford Taylor says. “I made up elaborate stories about what we would all do together in the morning. I promised them that if they would go to sleep I would make sure mommy and daddy kissed them good night when they came in.”

What made Bradford Taylor and her sisters fearful, was that something might happen to their parents while they were out. What if something bad happened to them? What if they were in an accident? What if they never came back? What if we are left orphaned? What will happen then? And that age-old, primitive fear took over – what if we are left alone? Alone to fend for ourselves in the world, alone without a safety net, alone without the guidance, love and support of the ones who have been the center of our universe? Abandoned and alone, what will we do?

As Bradford Taylor explains, as the sister-babysitter, it was hard for her, too, because of course she had her own fears. She was a potential orphan too, with as much to lose as her sisters. But she couldn’t give in to her fear because she was the one in charge, the one who was supposed to be cheerful and confident and sure of the future for her sake and for her sisters’. She was supposed to know all the answers. But fear stalked her, too. I think that there are so many parallels to our lives, too.  I wonder what instills that kind of fear in you?

This is the question that is at the core of our text for today. It is the question that certainly was on the minds of the disciples as Jesus is telling them that he will be leaving them soon. How can Jesus leave us alone? What will happen to us? What are they going to do without Jesus there leading them, guiding them, teaching them all there is to know about God and about this new life that Jesus is offering them? Keeping them safe?

What is it that the disciples need to hear from Jesus?

They need to hear that they will not be left alone. They need to know how they will live. They need to know how they will continue in this relationship with God, how they can be disciples once Jesus is gone from them, and how they will do all that they need to do as disciples of Christ. They need to know how they will exist once he is gone, and is no longer there to teach them, guide them, and accompany them. And, crankily, they want to know, how could he be leaving anyway?

Jesus knows what is in the mind and hearts of his disciples. He knows what the challenges of the next days will bring as he faces his arrest, passion and death. Jesus knows the confusion that will follow the discovery of the empty tomb. Jesus knows how frightening it is to be left alone.

What Jesus offers the disciple both then and now is the promise of “another advocate”. Jesus himself, “the first advocate” is God incarnate, who came so that we might see and experience God – and for the disciples, that is exactly what Jesus has done up to now. But now as Jesus is preparing to leave, he gives his instructions and he makes these promises; his beloved disciples –we – will not be left alone; he will not abandon them, but instead, through the Spirit, will continue to abide with them - us. Jesus will not leave these children of God orphaned, without an anchor. Rather, Jesus will give an advocate, who will stay with them.

In a couple of weeks we will celebrate the descent of the Holy Spirit upon the disciples at Pentecost. We will celebrate the special gifts and tools for ministry they received, similar to the gifts we receive through baptism. But in these verses before us today, Jesus is promising the disciples that through the love of God, their allegiance to Christ is a sure foundation, and by their love and their dedication to the mission Christ has set before them, they will be blessed. And this is a word of grace and gospel for us today as well.

On Pentecost the Spirit descends to equip us for mission, too, but for today, the purpose of the Spirit is to advocate for us, to accompany us, to bear out the words of Christ, that although the cross and the tomb and then the empty tomb await, Jesus is not leaving us alone. Rather, in love and mercy Jesus is ever and will ever be with us. This week we celebrate Ascension Day – the day on which the disciples witnessed Jesus physically ascending as on clouds, up into heaven. It is the final “leave-taking” of Jesus, so to speak, and once again it may feel like Jesus is abandoning us as he shed his earthly bonds and ascends into heaven. But as Jesus has promised, there is life after Easter; there is abundant life in the presence and power of the Holy Spirit, through whom Jesus accompanies us throughout our days.

As Bradford Taylor comments, as Christians, we may sometimes feel like the babysitter left in charge, the responsible elder children trusted to carry on in Christ’s name, and “everywhere we go,” she writes, “we see the faces of those whom he has given in our care.” They come from different places with different expectations and different needs and wants. They may still be waiting for Jesus to return or they may have given up. “Where is he? Where did he go? And when will he be back? It is hard, being the ones in charge, because we are potential orphans too, only he said he was coming back again, and not only at the end of time.”

Jesus promises that through the Spirit, this advocate, he will be with us, he will accompany us, and will make a home with us. Jesus promises that there is life beyond Easter because the power and presence of Easter persist beyond the empty tomb. Jesus promises life beyond the boogeymen and monstrous creatures and the fearsome evil we confront in daily life. As David Lose puts it, there is more to being a child of God than being raised from the dead. Our Easter reality is that we are alive for Christ, we are bold to live without fear, because Jesus does not, and never will, leave us alone.  

Jesus will soon ascend into heaven, and the post resurrection visits that we have read about will come to an end. But God’s presence, God’s abiding with us, will not end. God has made us God’s dwelling place. God will continue to make Godself known to us, through advocating, accompanying, comforting, constantly creating and inspiring Spirit of God. God will never leave us alone, for in life, in death, and in life after death, we will ever be in the power and presence of our Lord. Of this we can be sure. Thanks be to God! Amen.

Imagine This!

John 14:1-14, Acts 7:55-60, 1 Peter 2:2-10, Psalm 31:1-5, 15-16

          We are surrounded by countless images each and every day. Some of these are visual images of physical objects; others form through words we read on a page; still others are the images arise from conversations and stories told to us by other people.

Sometimes these images evoke other memories. Occasionally they shock or even overwhelm us. Sometimes competing images confuse us. Much of the time, images evoke an emotional response from us.

          Here are some of the images, for instance, which have been taking up space in my head this week. They begin with the snapshots of empty dormitories in a school in Nigeria from which over 200 girls were kidnapped over a month ago; they are still missing - evidence of so many lives interrupted. There are images from burned-out homes and acres of land consumed by wildfires in California, still threatening vast areas of the state. There were the crowds of people in Turkey, waiting for news of the fate of those buried deep under the debris of mine explosions, hope dimming with each passing hour; and there was a pregnant woman in Sudan condemned to death because she is a Christian and refuses to renounce her faith, the faith in which she was raised, a risk most of us simply cannot comprehend. All startling and disturbing images.

Against those images though, are these: the youth of Grace working hard to raise money so that over a year from now, they can join with tens of thousands of other high school aged students at the National Youth Gathering, where they will learn more about their faith, where they will have the opportunity to share and discuss more about the issues affecting their lives as Christians in an increasingly pluralistic world, and where they will put their faith into action through service to the people in need in the city of Detroit, where they will be meeting. I have the image of dozens of Easton residents showing up to stand in solidarity and support of a shelter for some of God’s beloved children who are facing tough times; images of walkers and runners gathering and participating in races locally and elsewhere, to raise funds to give hope and cure to those afflicted with life-threatening illnesses. I carry with me this morning the image of men and women of all ages gathering at the Lutheran Seminary in Gettysburg where I was on Friday, first to celebrate their accomplishments when seminary degrees were conferred on them, and then coming together as community again a little later that afternoon, to give God thanks and praise for all God’s blessings and for their vocations; and, the images of hope and excitement at commencement exercises held in places locally like Washington College and Salisbury University and in many other institutions of learning across our country and around the world as well.

Like many of these images, the scriptures that we read this morning are simply snapshots out of time. They capture a part of the story, but we know there is detail and a backstory that we are missing. Alone, the images evoke a response, but do we really know what we are even reacting to? Take our first reading, for instance, a dramatic story to be sure – this text, which tells of the stoning and martyrdom of Stephen. This story presents a powerful image – a young man, a disciple of Christ, sees a vision of heaven, with Christ standing as if as witness at the right hand of God, and then is rushed out of town and stoned to death.

In and of itself, this is a powerful image. We also have to admit though, it is in many ways disturbing image. True, in this short piece of the text we are given an admirable picture of the strong Christ-like witness of Stephen whose final words, we are told, are in fact reflective of Christ’s words from the cross, words of forgiveness for his murderers. But you know, this story would make a really poor employment ad for disciples for Christ.

But we know that there really is much more to the story. If you read the preceding chapter of the Acts of the Apostles, you will learn that Stephen, because he was known as a young man who was “full of faith and the Holy Spirit”, was called as a disciple early in the first days of the church. As the church was rapidly growing, it was noted that help was needed to make sure that the people most in need of food were not overlooked but were being cared for. And so Stephen and some other disciples were added to attend to the needs of the poor. Yet, as he is serving and tending the people, Stephen’s strong witness of Jesus Christ, the wisdom and strength of Spirit with which he spoke caught the attention of the wrong people, who plotted against him and ultimately brought him to the moment we read about here.  Hmmm, still not very enticing, is it? Anyone here ready to sign up?

Fact is, we will be welcoming a new member of Grace through Baptism a little later, but I wonder, has he read this story? If not, we had better lock the doors and grab him while we can, right? Because who in his right mind would answer the call to discipleship with this story as its invitation?

But then we read the other scriptures we have before us this morning. It looks like the psalmist has had some troubles of his own. Don’t we all? From time to time, like the author of this psalm, we all have our struggles. Enemies from within and without assail us. As members of this fallen humanity we each suffer as well as cause pain and suffering. Stuff happens that we cannot understand or explain. We inflict harm on our environment, and we are vulnerable to disease and death.

Yet as this psalmist faces challenges and hardship, his words reflect hope, assurance of God’s steadfast presence and strength, and ultimate deliverance. Whatever befalls him, he declares, “Into your hands I commend my spirit, for you have redeemed me, O LORD, God of truth. For my times are in your hand….let your face shine upon your servant, save me in your steadfast love.”

Our reading from 1 Peter tells us about the beloved of Christ, a “living stone, though rejected by mortals yet chosen and precious in God’s sight…” The author of that lesson goes on to describe how firm a foundation we have when Jesus Christ is our cornerstone, the one in whom we believe and trust, the one through whom we receive the grace and mercy of God.

Finally, we come to the gospel from John which comes from the Farewell Discourse Jesus delivers to his disciples on the very night he is handed over for his passion and death, and ultimately, his resurrection. I would like to focus on these important words from this gospel for us today, “Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me.” (verse 1) There are many words that follow. Words that promise a mansion in which God is preserving a place for each one of us. That is for the future. But the gospel words of this passage for all the disciples of Christ, both then and now, are these that come from the first verse.

Jesus isn’t simply telling his disciples here not to worry. But Jesus knows what is coming. Like many of the events of our days and the images that accompany them, Jesus knows that events are coming, images that will shock, terrify and yes, trouble the hearts of the disciples. What Jesus is telling the disciples – and us –is more like this – Jesus is telling us that the time is coming when events will threaten, frighten, shock, sadden, and even terrify you. But you will have faith to withstand whatever comes, because Jesus has given it to you. “You believe in me,” Jesus is saying, “and I have told you things that you will remember and share with others. Continue to hold onto my words, to the promises of God, because though them, I will continue to reveal God’s love to you.” Jesus will replace troubling images with reassuring ones, including those of this mansion with many rooms, including one with your name on it.

Jesus knows that the disciples will be troubled by the coming events; that the early church would be troubled by persecution; Jesus knows that we are troubled by shocking images and troubling news and events in our own times and in our lives. Jesus knows that it is only natural and human to be concerned, frightened, and even to have doubt when those things transpire. But Jesus is telling us, when those things happen, don’t be consumed by worry, do not let your hearts continue to be troubled. Rather, turn to my Word. Turn to the faith that I have given you. Turn to the promise of God that is true – that I will always be with you, with you to the end, and beyond.

But Jesus doesn’t stop there. Jesus promises that despite images that assail us that would cause us to worry, to be troubled, and even to doubt, that God loves us, is with us, is and will be always on our side. God continues to be rock, refuge, and strength. God promises that we are God’s people, and that as such, we have received God’s mercy and grace. God abides with us. God will dwell with us now and forever. Even when we cannot fathom the events around us, like schoolgirls being kidnapped and used as political pawns, or wildfires destroying the homes, property and environment, even when life’s challenges, disease and death threaten, we can believe in God and in the promise of our Savior who loves us, who hears our prayer, and answers our needs with wisdom, with eternal promise and with unending, surprising, and even shocking displays of mercy and love.

Jelly Beans, Tootsie Rolls, and Easter

Matthew 28:1-10 Easter Sunday

Christ is Risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia!

Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God the Father and our risen and victorious Lord, Jesus Christ. Amen.

          A friend of mine, also a pastor, relayed a conversation that she had with two three-year-old friends when she was visiting them just last week. Always the teacher, my friend thought spending some time looking through an illustrated children’s bible would offer the perfect opportunity to talk about Easter. So she began reading the resurrection story to the children. And, as children will, they listened carefully for a little while, and then began asking questions – you know, the way only children, especially three year olds, can do. The conversation went something like this:

"Why is Jesus wearing a dress?” “Do you think the Easter bunny will bring me purple jelly beans?"

My friend patiently answered “I am sure he will bring you jelly beans. But, remember, Easter isn't about the bunny. It's about Jesus.”

"But will they be purple?" her little friend persisted.

“Yes,” my friend responded. “I’m sure there will be some purple ones in there…but the important thing about Easter isn't the bunny or the candy…Easter is about how much Jesus loves you and me and the whole world.”

"Okay, but, HOW MANY purple jelly beans will the Easter Bunny bring?"

My friend tried to redirect them,“Girls, I think there will probably be plenty of purple jellybeans.” She looked at them, “But do you know how much Jesus loves you?”

“But …” they began.

“Yes?” 

“Will he bring me tootsie rolls, too?”

For three year olds, Easter bunnies, purple jelly beans and tootsie rolls are more than enough to make Easter a day of celebration, with or without Jesus. For adults, the details may be different, but the distractions still exist. Easter flowers, spectacular music and beautiful hymns, fancy dinners, and spiffy new clothes make today a day to celebrate. But, you do know, don’t you, how very much Jesus loves you? That there really is more to this day? 

Whether we are three, or thirty, or, well – older than that, our very being hungers this day to know and experience the Easter story that lies beyond jellybeans, tootsie rolls, pretty plants, lovely music and new Spring clothes. Like the two Marys in our gospel text today, like the other disciples, we have all experienced dark nights of the soul, moments of great disappointment and grief, fear, or confusion and despair, where we, too, want to know, need to know, that there’s more to this day than the little details that all add up to make Easter special. We want to know, need to know and experience the truth of the resurrection. We want to know, need to know, that even after the sweets are consumed, the flowers wilt, the last notes of the beautiful music we hear today fade, there is something more in this Easter for us. Something radically life-changing, something hope-producing, and joyful, bound together by the love of Jesus and the truth of this gospel. 

Sooner or later, my friend’s three year old buddies will experience these dark nights and dark days, and they will need more than bunnies and jellybeans. They will need to know what Easter is all about. Sooner or later, we all have that need, to know that our faith has not been in vain.

·         Perhaps it will be when they are bullied at school or work and feel all alone;

·         Or maybe it will happen when they are betrayed or harshly, unfairly judged by a so-called “friend” or their heart is broken by the one who pledges to be faithful until death;

·         It could happen on a day when they hear the report from the doctor, “it’s not just a cold after all”

·         Or perhaps when they’re feeding their beloved, aging mother, who no longer recognizes them.

·         Perhaps that dark day occurred for you when you came to grips with the addiction that torments you or when I acknowledged the many bridges I have burned and the pain I have caused, and I yearn for the forgiveness I fear never will come.

·         Perhaps it will be the day our best friend dies, or we come face to face with unspeakable evil or loss.

Whatever our story or circumstance, our need for this day is real and it is deep. Despite the reality of death all around us – the death of dreams, the death of relationships, and of course, physical death, it is because of this day that we dare not only to hope but to be joyful. It is because of Easter, and God’s radical resurrection redirection, that we can be confident in our present and our future, and know that both are bound together in Christ’s eternal presence and love.

Today is a day that is not simply about beautiful flowers, though we certainly love them; nor is it about the beautiful music, the trumpet fanfare and shouted alleluias, though we sure do appreciate them. It is not simply a day about bunnies and jellybeans and tootsie rolls. It is about how in the midst of a mighty earthquake, God rolled the stone from the tomb, and revealed the divine mystery – that in Christ, death and the grave are defeated. This day is about God surprising and astounding us in the resurrection of Jesus – the real bodily resurrection of our Savior. And on this Easter day, we acknowledge that while there is great joy and relief in the victory of our Lord, each one of us experiences this mystery of faith differently. Christ has died, Christ is risen and Christ will come again. These are not empty words, but words that contain in them the fullness of our faith. That God, who raised Christ from the dead is not done with us yet.

Today is a day that contains in it the dawn of a new reality. It is a reality that transcends time, reason and rationale. It shakes us up and it makes us new. It gives us hope and it asks of us our participation in this magnificent story. It begs us to share our faith. It commands us to pay attention.

Some of us see faith in brilliant white light like the shining light that reflected off the angel’s clothing at the tomb; for others faith is more subtle,  given to us at our baptism. Some of us have experienced radical, transformational moments of “born again” reality; for others Christ has been such a real and constant presence throughout our lives, that we can’t think of a moment when things changed and our faith became real. Christ has simply always been there. For some of us, believing is as unsettling as the earthquake that revealed the miraculously empty tomb; for others, it radiates with the reassuring warmth of the sun.

My friends, no matter which of these descriptions fits how faith in Christ has come to you, the truth is that Jesus’ resurrection makes all of us new! And for that reason, we are bid, like the Marys, to go and tell what God has done. The women’s lingering fear is overcome by their joy – they run! They run to tell the disciples this glorious good news of the resurrection! They run to tell the disciples of the empty tomb and the words of the angel. “Do not be afraid; He is not here; he has been raised from the dead.” 

Brothers and Sisters, our Easter surprise is that God, who has made all things new, who has brought life out of death, and hope out of despair, has great things in store for each and every one of us. Just as Christ’s presence in our lives looks different for each of us, so does this new life that comes to us through God’s grace.

New life sometimes looks like reconciliation between family members. Sometimes, new  life might look like me admitting that I’m wrong, or not mentioning that I’m right. New may look like helping our neighbors, even when we’re convinced that they’ve created their own disaster to begin with.

New life looks like every fresh start and every act of forgiveness, and sometimes new looks like people of faith letting go of past hurts, hang-ups, and conflict in order for a church to receive the resurrected life and mission our God is calling us to. New may look like unshakeable faith in the promise of resurrection, even as we watch loved ones die. Often, new is what we never see coming…the thing we didn’t even know to hope for, that ends up being exactly what we need.

New life happens to each of us, and is the reason we celebrate this day. Beyond the jelly beans and tootsie rolls, Easter is about God, in Jesus, coming near to us, reaching down into our everyday humanity and pulling us out of our graves, making us new, time and time again. The Good News of this day is that we are loved so much by God that God has swept us up into God’s own story of death and life, and life after death. We stand here as Easter people,  even as we shout, Alleluia! Christ is risen! Alleluia! And the people of God shout, Amen!

Here's Mud in Your Eye

John 9:1-41 March 30, 2014

          When is the last time you found your life really disrupted? Have you had to re-imagine what your day, or week, or even your entire future might look like changed, due to circumstances outside of your control? Can you name a time when you needed to reassess the validity of what you had always assumed to be true, or determine what was fundamentally, truly, even important in life, when your previously formed expectations were turned upside-down?

Perhaps it happened on a day you had a flat tire on your way to an  important meeting, or were driving home from a long trip and just when you were within reach of home, discovered that the Bay Bridge was closed? Maybe it happened when you received a surprising diagnosis or some devastating news. Sometimes disruptions happen over time; occasionally they occur in the blink of an eye. Either way, they can be life changing, transformational, and they provide opportunities to recognize God’s grace in the midst all of life’s experiences; perhaps most powerfully, in the surprising events which intrude into our everyday existence.

In our text today, Jesus confounds his disciples, the Pharisees, and many others through this miracle of sight to a man who was born blind, a man who has no name, a man who doesn’t know who Jesus is, and doesn’t even ask for healing… Jesus intrudes on this man’s life as he does on ours…with disruptive, transformational, miraculous grace that changes everything.

Dr. John Van Nuys, a minister from Indiana, writes about an experience of grace he received while in Africa, even though he didn’t understand it at the time. It is an experience which he ties beautifully to this text. 

“When I was in Congo,” he writes, “one of the hardest graces ….. to accept was the lavish hospitality of our Congolese hosts. Oftentimes, very malnourished church people made sure we ate our fill. Impoverished villages gave us material gifts that were their very best. People insisted on washing our clothes for us – and even ironed them with flat irons filled with coals from their fire. But what really stunned us ….. was that our hosts insisted on not only washing, but also ironing our underwear. That seemed beyond hospitality to me.....and I tried repeatedly to tell our hosts that they did not have to do that. But [they] would have nothing of that. With a smile, they simply insisted: No. And they went right on ironing.

Van Nuys continues, “It was years later that I learned why. In Congo, when you hang clothes on the line to dry, there is an exotic, rainforest insect … that takes advantage of those warm, wet clothes. It lands on drying laundry and deposits its eggs there. When the eggs hatch, the larvae, which are largely invisible to the human eye, crawl from the clothes to the person who is wearing them, burrowing into their skin which causes very itchy, painful lesions. The Congolese are used to such annoyances—which, I am told, are a lot like our chiggers. But to make sure that we tenderfoots ….. did not suffer that discomfort, everything was ironed for us. Underwear included. We were never told why. We never understood why. We just received what was strangely, graciously given.”

Dr. Van Nuys says “I think most of God’s gifts are like that. By grace, we receive something that we really don’t understand all that much—if at all. Initially, we are really not too sure about it, and it sometimes takes a lot of time to understand the fullness of the gift. Like the blind man who receives his sight by having Jesus put dirt and spit on his eyes. I think if I had been that man, I would have said, "Thank you for this miracle, [Lord] but can you do this without the spit? Can’t I have a more ‘common-sense miracle’; a more sanitary miracle without something like your spit having to be a part of it?"

Many times God’s miracles are very plain and straightforward; at other times they come through unexpected, even shocking events and means. Like mud made from spit and soil. Van Nuys writes, “Sometimes God’s gifts come in very strange ways that don’t even begin to make sense to us. Like ironed underwear or a dirt-and-spit poultice. Mostly, we expect God’s miracles to be packaged and packed with Hollywood special effects that instantaneously make our lives clearly better. But many times God’s miracles, God’s gifts, come in plain, brown paper bags without a lot of fanfare. Many times God’s miracles only work on the installment plan: They don’t make our lives completely and understandably better all at once. Sometimes God’s gifts are time-released miracles that take time to unfold: They incrementally make our lives better as we put our cooperative efforts into working with God to make God’s gift our miraculous reality.”

Sometimes it is only through the lens of the “what if” that we truly comprehend the miracles in our lives for what they truly are.

For the Pharisees and for many of us, when tragedy befalls us, when disease strikes, when life doesn’t go as we think it should, it initiates a cycle of questioning of sin at its core. For instance, someone is diagnosed with lung cancer and the first question you hear asked – “but did they smoke?” Or there is a car accident – and we wonder, “whose fault was it?” Or a child is born with disabilities – and we question, “was it something the mother did? Ate? Drank? Was it environmental?” Or first response is to question what caused this thing to happen – who did what to bring it about? And so the cycle begins.

This story is no different, and in the mind-set of first century Palestine, the first question most people would have asked in any event was, “Whose fault is it?” For in their worldview disaster and disease were the cost of angering God. Even for the disciples. Why is this man blind? There has to be someone to blame.

Yet the point of this story is not about fault at all, but about how, in the midst of our anguish, our deepest need, our ongoing crises, God’s divine love, mercy, and grace can transform anyone in any situation. Even to giving a man sight through the ordinary substances of dirt and spit. It’s about how Jesus is able to take our illness and disability, our messes, our hurts, and our deficiencies, and using the most improbable methods possible, at the right time and in the right place, he can make us whole and fit us for the work of discipleship and worship.

"Healing of the Blind Man" (1871); Carl Bloch. 

The blind man in our text today became a disciple who worshiped and adored Jesus. He demonstrated his thanksgiving for this extraordinary gift. Though born blind, he saw more clearly than any of the sighted people around him, that God’s gift is at work through Jesus, who transformed him. The true gift this man received was faith – and he gives the only appropriate response possible – he testifies to who Jesus is, and he worships him. He doesn’t understand what happened, he simply does what Jesus asked, and believed.

Even today, Jesus is in the business of miracles. He takes ordinary people, and through water, Word, bread, and wine equips us to be his disciples. He invites us to the table of grace and there he heals us, strengthens us, and grants us forgiveness, transforming us in truth and light.

We are invited to the table, where Jesus tells us, eat, drink, and remember – and we do, even though we don’t understand how this bread and wine becomes body and blood, even though we don’t get how God’s love is made manifest at this table. Though we’re not always sure how this simple action can bring us to eternal life, can change us into agents of God’s grace, can bring us the healing for which we desperately yearn, we come.

At the table, God takes our humble gifts and multiples our meager offerings in ways that can’t be explained rationally. At the table, God blesses us to be God’s hands and feet in service, feeding the hungry, healing the sick, sheltering the homeless, loving the addicted, forgiving those who hurt us, and opening our eyes to the rich mission field around us.

God sends us out to testify to the good news, not as sinners but as redeemed, beloved children of God; disciples and newly sighted for mission and ministry in God’s name. Amen.

What's In That Water, Anyway?

John 4:5-42 ~ Samaritan Woman at the Well ~

Last week in our gospel reading we encountered Nicodemus, a Pharisee who came to Jesus under the cover of the darkness of night, to ask him questions, stirred by Jesus’ teachings. Nicodemus was curious, but he was also afraid. Otherwise, why would he come in secret to see the Lord, and then keep secret the good news that he heard from Jesus?

Today we read of Jesus’ encounter with the Samaritan woman at the well. Comparing the two stories, we notice quite a few contrasts. One of the first things that we notice is that this meeting at the well occurs in the bright light of the noon day sun. And, details about this woman stand in stark contrast to Nicodemus.

·         Nicodemus was a figure of authority and whose position garnered respect. The woman is a Samaritan – of a race of people considered unclean and untouchable by Jewish law and standards; so despised that most Jews would go out of their way to avoid encountering them on their journeys, and would never have wanted one to touch the cup they were to use.

·         She is a woman – already a person of little account or worth in her culture, because of her gender.

·         Unlike Nicodemus, she is given no name in the story. She is unknown, adding to the sense that she is a person of little regard.

·         She has come to the well in the center of town to draw water for herself. We can safely assume that she is either a servant or a person of no wealth or standing of her own. In fact, one reason she may have been at the well at that time of the day was that she was an outcast among her own. Most women drawing water at the well would congregate there in groups early in the morning or in the evening – they would not come alone, in the hottest part of the day, to draw water.

·         As Jesus reveals, she has had five husbands and is now living with a man who is not her husband. Before we cast her as an immoral woman, though, we must consider the strong possibility that each of her husbands had died, perhaps they were even brothers, each marrying her out of obligation as the brother before him died until finally, with no means of support, and her life on the line, she finds herself under the protection of a man who would not marry her – maybe even out of fear.

·         Unlike Nicodemus, this woman is not seeking anything, she is just going about her business. It is Jesus who surprises her, it is Jesus who speaks first and engages her.

·         Unlike Nicodemus, the woman has little to lose.

·         After the encounter with Jesus Nicodemus seems to keep a low profile. The woman’s response to this encounter with Jesus is to leave her bucket behind, and to go and tell. To go and tell everyone who would listen about this man – for, could it be, that he is the Messiah?

I wonder what it must have been like for this Samaritan woman, to have Jesus even speak to her at first, to acknowledge that she was there, and then as this conversation unfolds, to learn that Jesus knows everything there was to know about her – and chose to speak to her anyway. Jesus didn’t reject her. He didn’t turn his back on her. He didn’t demand anything from her. I wonder what ran through her mind as Jesus offered to quench her thirst.

Like Nicodemus, this woman initially interprets everything Jesus says literally. He offers to crawl back into his mother’s womb. She questions why Jesus doesn’t even have a bucket.

But with just a few words, Jesus opens her eyes. He gives her new understanding. He transforms her with hope. He reaches out to her in love. Jesus accepts her as a child of God, offering her something she never thought within reach. A Samaritan woman! An outcast! A person of no account, marginalized in every way possible.

In this surprising, confounding event, Jesus unplugs the dam of hopelessness and lets the living water of God’s love and care for this woman wash over her. She came to the well that day with her bucket, expecting to draws a days’ worth of life sustaining water. But as Jesus’ love enfolds her, she drops her bucket, the vessel that can never hold what it is that Jesus gives. She is offered life-giving water that comes from the divine “spring of water, gushing up to eternal life” - and she runs to tell her friends, her townspeople, anyone who will listen, that there is “something in the water” – the water that only Jesus can give. 

While this woman came to the well with her own set of expectations for what life had to offer her, as she came to the well in the ordinary existence of her days, she came with only one purpose in mind. She thought she would draw water that day from the cistern at the base of the well. It would meet her physical needs. She would perform a chore that was expected of her.

But her encounter with Jesus is life-changing not only for her but for those whom she invites into the story. Her encounter with Jesus leads her to running, bubbling, life-giving, Spirit-filled water, water that is eternal, water that doesn’t dry up, water that overflows the cups we hold, water that cannot be contained, water that washes away sin and infuses us with God’s own life. With his words, Jesus transforms this woman of no account into a seeker who is suddenly thirsty for the life-saving word that he can give her. And he transforms her into a disciple – one who tells the story and invites others to hear it for themselves.

As he so often does, Jesus confounds expectations and dashes the status quo to smithereens – “the way things always are” or “have been” applies no longer. This woman of no account, this person of no status, this creature of no authority, is not only accepted but beloved; not only worthy but treasured. With the words “I am He,” Jesus identifies himself as the source of the living water she now seeks. The treasure offered here is the same treasure that is offered to all the world by this God who is determined to save us, determined to give us everything, determined to go to the cross in order to become for us the life-giving stream of life that never ends.

This story intersects our lives at the baptismal font. It beckons to us from the table. It leaps off the pages of scripture and invites us to be transformed as well. It invites our participation. It confers on us the status of God’s beloved, the ones who are washed in the waters of baptism and given equal status with this Samaritan woman, and with Nicodemus, and with those who have believed in Jesus and his claim, “I am he.”

This story and the promise of living water is for each and every person. If you have ever considered yourself unworthy, or been told that you are, this living water is for you. If you have been disappointed by life, betrayed by someone you trusted, felt less than worthy of love in any way, let the waters of from Jesus’ spring quench your thirst. If you have doubted, disbelieved, been bound by confusion or lack of faith, know that Christ holds this promise and this eternal gift for you.

This woman who had nothing – and everything – to lose – shared with others the good news of this life-giving words, this saving water, this promise of new life for all who come to drink. What are we then to do? We can do as this woman did.

The first thing the woman did was to tell her friends what her experience was. She didn’t try to convince them. She didn’t proselytize, she simply shared her story. She testified to what she had seen, what she had heard, how she had been loved, what that felt like. And others came. Samaritans, who had no affinity for a Jew let alone a rabbi, came to hear for themselves the life-saving word of God. In so doing they came to believe.

Each one of us is here because there is something in this unbelievable, counter-cultural, transformational story that has grabbed us. There is something about this Jesus of Nazareth that beckons to us. There is something that happened because of our baptism or something that is leading us to the font that we can’t even explain, but we know it is something worth clinging to and therefore it is something worth sharing with others. You don’t have to convince anyone of anything. Nor do you have to understand it. Simply testify to those you know that this word of God, this baptism and this meal mean something to you, make a difference in your life, and you need to share it with others. God will do the rest.

Like the Samaritans who came and asked Jesus to stay, who heard his word and were touched by his spirit, those we invite to this place will be transformed not by anything that we have done, but by everything that God has done through Jesus Christ.

Amen.

Let Go My Legos!

John 3:1-17 ~

My grandson Alex loves Legos. Who doesn’t, right? Back in November or December, when my husband and I asked our son Bill what he might suggest we get for Alex for Christmas, we were told that just about anything Legos would be great, that Alex was really into them.

Now, at the time Alex was not quite 4 – his birthday is in January. And as anyone familiar with Legos knows, the really good ones, the ones that make castles and planes and pirates ships and the really cool stuff that appeals to an almost any 4-year-old child, are recommended for children within certain age ranges – for instance, from 7 to 9 years old, or 8 to 12 years old, or something like that – and for good reason. A reason frequently overlooked when purchasing the Legos for that really bright child of yours. While you are sure this child has the ability to figure out how to build a master creation with these small blocks and all the teeny tiny pieces that come with them, they are not necessarily as easy to put together as they appear.

Finally, Christmas came and the family gathered at our house. Alex was uber-excited and happy with the Legos he received. And while the rest of us were all relaxing, preparing dinner and visiting with one another, our son Bill spent the rest of the day constructing Lego sets into the exact design required to replicate the castle, or the plane or the pirate ship pictured on each box, which was what was expected by little Alex.

Of course, by the time the blocks and the rest of Alex’s Christmas booty made it home, the pieces from the various sets were hopelessly dismantled and intermingled. And Alex was incapable of building the specified designs on his own, especially from the confusion of blocks in front of him now. So, a month later when it was time for Alex’s birthday celebration, the request came down from his parents – please – no more Legos!

There is something that often happens between the development of our expectations and how reality plays out. When we approach something with preconceived ideas thoroughly cemented by ironclad ideologies, it can be hard to comprehend and face the mental complexities that result when our ideas are challenged. Alex expected to be able to make those Legos into the desired designs easily, each and every time he brought them out (and the adults around him had no more realistic expectations, apparently). The Legos could, in fact, be built into other creations. They didn’t have to become a plane, a castle, or a pirate ship. They could probably also be made into a house, a sail boat or a train. They could come together to form a church or a school or a spaceship. However, Alex couldn’t comprehend those possibilities at first, couldn’t grasp that these blocks could come together in ways that he hadn’t even imagined.

In our gospel narrative, Nicodemus comes to Jesus under cover of darkness. He is a Pharisee – a leader within the Jewish holy establishment – a man of tradition, a man faithful to Jewish law. When Nicodemus came to visit Jesus he came with some preconceived ideas. He came with a firmly cemented ideology, with particular thoughts and philosophies and convictions about how things work – about how God, in particular, works. And he begins by saying to Jesus, “we know that you are a teacher who has come from God, for no one can do these signs that you do apart from the presence of God.” So far, so good, right? Rapidly, however, we begin to see that the darkness that shrouds Nicodemus also keeps him from comprehending the truth of Jesus’ radical, unexpected message.

Here in John’s gospel, where “signs” are not “miracles” but are actions and events that point to the presence and activity of God, and where the gospel repeatedly points to Jesus as the way that God is in the world and acts on behalf of the world, Nicodemus acknowledges that what Jesus is doing and saying points to God. But when Jesus answers Nicodemus with words about birth and water and Spirit, Nicodemus simply cannot understand what Jesus is saying.

The radical design and reality of God’s tremendous love and liberating Spirit don’t fit on or into the box of Nicodemus’s worldview. The deep darkness of his unbelief obscures his vision of God’s mysterious and redemptive work. The Lego pieces of his deeply-held convictions don’t fit into the radically creative and restorative design of God’s redeeming love for the whole world. Jesus changes the game. God is making a new creation in this kingdom of God, and all the old ideas and previous designs of our imagining are dismantled and redesigned through the cross of Christ.

Jesus says, “Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above.” The Greek word ἄνωθεν (anothen) can be translated “again”, “anew”, or “from above” – and here, it seems that Nicodemus assumes the first meaning – “again” - and is confused, because how can anyone be, literally born - again?

I don’t think that we can really blame poor Nicodemus for his inability to imagine new lives and a new world transformed by God in the radical nature of Jesus Christ. And, beyond this exchange, we don’t really know what the impact of this conversation with Jesus had on him. We do see him later in the gospel, as he half-heartedly speaks on behalf of Jesus to the temple elite, and then again, when he again comes under cover of darkness, this time to aid Joseph of Arimathea in preparing Jesus’ body for entombment following his crucifixion. The fact that he seemingly stuck around and continued in some way to grow into a follower of Christ would suggest that although he may have lacked belief in Christ during this visit, some kernel of faith was planted and slowly grew. And he was changed.

The thing is, that is the way of faith. In his gospel, John never uses the word “faith” as a noun. It is not something you “get” or something that belongs to you; it isn’t something that you possess or manipulate. Rather, in John’s gospel we see faith as a verb. It is an action word. It is continuously working, continuously growing, and continuously changing everything around it. Faith comes through the Spirit, which, as Jesus points out, blows where it will. It never rests. It never sits still. It cannot be fit into a box, be built into a cookie-cutter design, or be pinned down by expectations and pre-formed convictions. Rather, through the Spirit of God, given at our baptism, faith challenges our assumptions, and opens the door to living, breathing union with God that impacts and guides our actions and our lives, forever changing them. Faith confounds us.  

But it is not always easy. We’re not talking about a magic elixir that solves all of our problems and puts an end to the current pain and suffering of the world. Living on this side of the cross as we do, we are vulnerable, we remain broken, we are mortal, imperfect creatures who all too frequently behave as Nicodemus, and demand that our blocks fit together to meet our expectations to construct that picture on the box. We are often crushed by disappointment, devastation and despair when they do not.

The reality of living in this complex world means that we stand in the shadow of the cross of Christ, where dreams are sometimes shattered and suffering not only exists but seems to thrive. Planes fall inexplicably out of the sky and vanish without a trace. Buildings that have stood strong and firm for over one hundred years disappear in a flash, taking the lives of ordinary people going about their ordinary business. Young parents learn that their small child has terminal cancer, and there is nothing they can do about it. Unexpected phone calls forever change lives. Civil wars drive millions of innocent people into exile. Addictions steal dreams and destroy families. Bodies, minds and spirits are laid waste by failing health and aging. We could go on and on listing all the kinds of losses we endure, and all of the ways that the reality of the world confounds our expectations of justice, and of life as it should be.

And into that reality comes Jesus, rearranging our blocks and building something new, something beyond our imagining. God enters our fragile, hurting, suffering humanity in the Word made flesh, and joins us in our suffering. God chooses not to be aloof from us, God chooses to be in the trenches with us. God accompanies us through every triumph and every challenge of life. God lifts up those who suffer. God sends loving hands and spirits to aid those who are stricken.

The cross of Christ stands as witness to these facts, offering us a place where the suffering of the whole world is connected, and embraced in God’s loving care. “For God so loved the world that God gave God’s only son…God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the whole world may be saved through him”. The cross—and all the suffering, sadness, and sorrow it bears—stands as witness to God’s presence and power and embrace…promising that even in the abrupt changes, God is present, and somehow holding it all together: connecting us with one another, embracing us fully in His arms. And into this same world, God’s Spirit continually blows freely, bringing us comfort, strengthening us in every adversity, empowering us in Jesus’ name, and sending us into places we’d never imagined, to build up blocks of resiliency and love. As the darkness gives way to Jesus’ eternally penetrating light, may God grant us new life in this endless baptism of God’s grace.

         

The Devil Made Me Do It

Genesis 2:15-17; 3:1-7 ~ Lent I, 2014

        Back a few decades ago, a black comedian by the name of Flip Wilson made popular the phrase, “The devil made me do it,” in a comedy routine of his. The phrase became a modern catch-phrase, for light-hearted denial of responsibility for any wrongdoing. Wilson performed routines in which he built a story around this phrase on his own variety show, on the Ed Sullivan show, and in several other venues. “The devil made me do it” as an iconic phrase really caught on.

        Over the past few decades, several songs have been recorded and released, given this same title, “The Devil Made Me Do It”, in every genre of music from gangsta rap to rock to country-western, addressing situations from criminal liability to substance abuse to behavioral and relational indiscretions.

In 2009 it was widely reported when a 62-year old Washington state woman who was arrested and charged for stealing $73,000 from her church treasury told the detectives who questioned her, “Satan had a big part in the theft.”

And earlier this year the Huffington Post published a tongue-in-cheek analysis in the form of a fictional dialogue between the Devil and Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia. This followed a New York magazine interview, in which Justice Scalia reportedly revealed that not only did he believe in the devil, but he thought most Americans did, too.  The Huff Post piece reflected on some of the legal decisions Scalia wrote on last year, supposedly from the viewpoint of this belief.

A cursory glance at our scriptural texts today might also lead us to believe that all temptation and misdeeds indeed come from the devil. Through the centuries this kind of belief has led to interpretations and teachings that every evil is inspired and enacted by the devil and agents of the devil, which has led in turn to some historic atrocities, like the witchcraft trials and the Spanish Inquisition.

Today we’ll consider our Genesis text in particular, in light of some misconceptions that muddy our understanding of our relationship with God, evil and sin.

Our reading this morning starts toward the end of the creation story. God has been busy, taking the chaos, that formless void, and separating out waters and creating dry land, establishing boundaries between them. Nowhere does the text say that what God created was a perfect paradise, as we often think of the Garden of Eden. But God did create and establish a vast assortment of elements, creatures and things; God made sun and moon, stars and planets, and set them all in their courses. And what God created was good, it was very good, and God was pleased by it. It was balanced. It was blessed by God. But it was still lacking something, and so finally, God created man and woman.

God set them in the garden, this wonderful, diverse and rich creation, and gave them work to do. They were to till the ground and keep it. In return God would freely provide for them out of it. God, who is full of grace and love, would fill all their needs. And at the end of chapter 2 (verse 25), just before the second part of our text picks up today, we are told, “And the man and his wife were both naked, and were not ashamed.”

If we fast forward to the verses just after our assigned reading ends, right after the couple’s eyes “were opened”, the next words we read are, “They heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden at the time of the evening breeze, and the man and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God among the trees of the garden. But the Lord God called to the man, and said to him, “Where are you?” He said, “I heard the sound of you in the garden, and I was afraid, because I was naked; and I hid myself.” (Chapter 3, vs. 8 & 9)

What in the world happened between “and they were not ashamed” and “I was afraid,…..and I hid myself”?

Enter the wily serpent. Although we often think of this snake as an evil satanic figure, the text simply refers to the figure as “serpent.” In the Ancient Near East, the serpent was seen as a symbol of wisdom, though Genesis 3: renders the serpent as “crafty”. This cunning creature brings alienation between humans, and between humans and their god by bringing on doubt, fear, and distrust. The serpent instills in the man and woman a loss of focus and identity.

In the garden, the serpent encourages them to doubt; to count on their own “wisdom” rather than on God and God’s wisdom. The scene unfolded something like this:

When Eve told the serpent how God had said they could eat from any tree but one, the serpent scoffed. “Surely you don’t believe that, do you? I mean, really! You think that if you eat that fruit you’re going to die? Come on now. You’re too smart to believe that, and speaking of smarts – if you do eat this fruit, you will gain all the knowledge needed to succeed in life. Then you’ll be rich beyond measure. Surely you are too smart to believe God meant that literally!”

How easily Satan shifts our thinking to believe that our human wisdom surpasses God’s word and promise.

Pondering the serpent’s words, the woman and man forget who they are and whose they are. I say they, because although tradition has it that Eve was convinced by the serpent and then brought temptation to Adam, this text makes it clear that the man was present all along. Eve took the fruit and ate and then offered it to her husband who also decided to eat. There is no claiming “The devil made me do it!” They each ate of their own accord.

And so, they each succumb to the serpent’s taunts. They each forget or disbelieve or distrust God’s promise that God would see to their needs. The moment that they ate of the fruit they became aware of their vulnerability – of their nakedness. They understood their profound failure to trust in God and depend on God, the only thing God ever really demanded from them. The consequences are immediate. In a moment of time they go from freedom to frailty, from confident, trusting dependence on God, to stumbling and falling into an abyss of shame and doubt and failure. The result is that they are compelled to hide from God. And we have been hiding ever since.

For, isn’t that still our story? Temptation so often comes at the point of identity, where we fail to claim our full potential as human beings and as children of God. We forget that we are God’s children, made in God’s own image, and that God desires our attention, our dependence and our full devotion. We fill our days with busyness, and fail to till the soil of God’s creation; we fail to till the soil of compassion, almsgiving, embracing at risk children, clothing the naked, feeding the hungry, embracing those who may challenge us or be different from us. Instead, we cling to sin, a powerful force that arises from God’s good creation. And we discover that knowing good from evil doesn’t mean we will always choose the good, and resist temptation to do evil.

Our creaturely vulnerability and brokenness have distorted God’s generosity and beneficence. “The devil made me do it” may be our cry, but the reality is that it is truly through our willful rejection of dependence on God, that we have repeatedly created corrupt and inadequate systems of power and dominance.

We have forever transformed the creation and garden of God’s delight into a broken and struggling planet, where earth, sea and skies suffer from the abuses we have heaped on them. Even the church is not immune from seeking power over sacred relationship with the divine. Our human vulnerability leads us to live in fear of failure, of intimacy, of relinquishing perceived power, of offering one another forgiveness.  

And yet, even after the fall, in the creation story we see glimpses of God’s grace enfolding God’s creation. God continues to create “good” – not perfect, but life-sustaining good. In verse 21 of Genesis 3 we are told that “… the Lord God made garments of skins for the man and for his wife, and clothed them.” Seeing their vulnerability and their shame, God’s grace is made evident in God’s continuing acts of creativity and renewal.

Since the time of creation and the fall, God has continued to pursue the hearts of God’s people. God has sent prophets and judges, has continued to provide for God’s people, even giving manna in the desert, water from a rock, and finally, the messiah, born of a human mother in a human birth, who lived and died so that the powers of evil and death would be forever vanquished. May it be so.

In Jesus, God has the last word. In the cross of Christ, God destroys death forever. There is no greater power. Our fear, our identity crises, our vulnerability, our failures, and our struggle with dependence all cause us to experience pain, disappointment and despair in life, but ultimately leads us back to Jesus, through whom God grants us new life and frees us to begin anew.

Let us pray. Lord Jesus, who saves us from our fear and failure, be with us this Lent as we explore more deeply your incomparable love that is poured out on the cross for us. Embrace us as we struggle with sin and guilt, and lead us to a broader understanding of your continuing creative and saving work. Grant that we may know and do your will despite the distractions and temptations in the world, and bring us at last to the peace and light.

Amen.