Wednesday, June 12, 2019

Unity in Diversity


Pentecost Sunday
June 9, 2019
Genesis 11:1-9; Acts 2:1-21

            The first computer in my house was an Apple IIc. Anyone remember those? Or have one? You had to insert a floppy disk start-up disk just to turn it on, and then you could put in the disk for whichever app you wanted to run. This is pre-internet days, no downloads here. You had to go to Circuit City or Best Buy or your local computer store to buy the software in person. The box for “Where in the World is Carmen Sandiago?” came with a copy of the world almanac so that you could look up the clues. There was another game we had for our Apple IIc that I played a lot, the name of which I can’t remember, but one step was a cryptic message which said, after you solved it, “Variety is the spice of life.” I never thought much of that as a kid, although I had experienced much diversity having already lived in Missouri, Texas, Maryland, and overseas in Egypt by that point in my life. I think I never thought much of it, because I had lived it, because I took it as a fact of life, so why did it really need saying? And why was it put in a kid’s computer game in the 1980s? Turns out that phrase was written by the English poet William Cowper in his most famous work, “The Task,” published in 1785. “Variety’s the very spice of life, that gives it all its flavour.”  In a poem whose rambling topics include the church, pastors, and preachers, William Cowper seems to have also summed up what happened at Babel and on Pentecost. Variety is the spice of life. Diversity is needed to give flavor to life. Too often Pentecost is read as a healing of Babel, as if Babel was a problem to be solved. But as you heard me read to the children in

Babel wasn’t a punishment! That word is nowhere in the story. Instead, God’s plan was bigger than anyone had dreamed! God’s plan is still bigger than we can dream or imagine. And variety, or diversity, is not a punishment but a gift from God. Listen to the story once more, this time from a new translation called The Voice:
“There was a time when everyone on the earth spoke the very same language. As many of these people began moving from the eastern regions into the western part of Mesopotamia, they settled down on a plain in the land of Shinar. Since stone was not readily available, they discovered how to make bricks and use tar for mortar to build their structures.
“People (to each other): Come on, let’s make bricks out of mud and bake them in the fire. Then we can build all we want. Let’s go build ourselves a city with a huge tower that reaches into heaven. That way we will make a name for ourselves. If we don’t, we’ll run the risk of being scattered all over the earth.
“The desire to settle in one place and build a city runs counter to God’s command to spread out across the earth. They want to make their mark on the world rather than conform to God’s plan for their lives. They want power and prestige. They want to ensure that they will not be scattered; that is, they want to choose their own destiny. But God has a different plan and purpose. God is the One who determines destiny.
“The Eternal One came down and took a look at the city and the tower the children of Adam were building. God was not pleased.
“Eternal One: Will you look at that! The people are all together on this. With one language they are able to start this kind of project. This is only the beginning of what they will do. Soon they will think they can accomplish anything and everything on their own. Let’s go down and break this up! If We confuse their language, they won’t be able to understand each other’s words.
“This is how the Eternal scattered people from Shinar all across the surface of the earth. Since they were unable to communicate, they stopped working on the city and went their separate ways. So this is why the city was called Babel: because it was there that the Eternal confused the language of all the peoples and scattered them across the surface of the earth.”
You’ll notice that the sin wasn’t pride but the myth and delusion of self-sufficiency. I can do it by myself. When we hear a two year old say it, what do we do as adults? We laugh, don’t we? It’s cute, and we know the toddler is learning how to put their shoes on, or whatever the skill may be, and they may or may not be actually able to do it themselves on this occasion. But they sure want to try. While much of our United Methodist liturgy comes from the Anglican Church, because we started as a revival movement within the Church of England, when we adopted the liturgy to form our own prayer book, we changed a few things, as you might expect. One thing we did was to shorten the responses in the baptismal liturgy. The answers in our hymnal all say “I do” or “I will.” In the Anglican/Episcopal Church, they say, “I will, with God’s help.” I will keep these vows to love my neighbor, with God’s help. I will resist evil, injustice, and oppression, with God’s help. When Methodism left England and hopped across the pond to America, we edited that liturgy with a bit of our American value of self-sufficiency, and just said, “We will,” implying we can do it by ourselves, without God.  [pause] As if we can keep our vows by ourselves without any help! You can’t keep your marriage vows by yourself because there are two people in a marriage! You can’t keep your baptismal vows or membership vows by yourself, because in baptism you join God’s family, and in becoming a member of a local church, you join that congregation. We’re all in this together. We cannot do it by ourselves, in spite of thinking like the people of Babel, “we can accomplish anything and everything on our own.” As if we don’t need God.
Another sin you may have picked up on was the people’s rejection of God’s mandate to spread over all the earth. By Genesis 11, God has already said this twice. God says it first in Genesis 1:28, with the instructions to Adam and Eve, “Be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth and take charge over it.” God repeats this instruction after the flood in Genesis 9:1. “God blesses Noah and his family, saying to them, “Be fruitful and increase in number and fill the earth.” It sounds like God is serious about this. Have babies and fill the earth. But, here in chapter 11, the people have stopped filling the earth. They’ve found a spot and want to settle down. They don’t want to fill the earth anymore. Instead, the people want to stay the same and preserve their uniformity. “They want to make their mark on the world, rather than follow God’s plan for their lives.” Sometimes the story of the tower of Babel is read as a critique of empires, which impose one dominant language over the empire in order to enforce unity and conformity. But God’s plan is bigger than our plan, especially if our plan takes God out of the picture and is directly contrary to what God has told you to do.
You know who else did something completely contrary to what God told him to do? Jonah. God told him to go to Ninevah, the capital of the Babylonian Empire. Jonah immediately hopped a ship going the exact opposite direction. God caused a storm on the sea, the sailors threw Jonah overboard in order to calm the sea, and after spending three days and nights in the belly of a whale, kinda like Pinocchio, when Jonah found himself back on dry land again, God again said, “Go to Ninevah.” And that time, Jonah went. He still wasn’t happy about it, but he went. The people at Babel said, “Let’s build a city and a tower so we won’t be scattered.” God said, “Uh, no. Scatter.” And you can almost imagine God flicking a finger scattering them off the tower and around the world.
God values our diversity. Otherwise Pentecost would have been everyone hearing the Gospel in one universal language, not everyone hearing the Gospel in their own language. Pentecost isn’t a reversal of Babel. It isn’t a healing. It’s a fulfillment. Go, fill the whole earth. And now that you’ve done that, hear the good news of Jesus Christ, each in your own native tongue. You can go a lot of places around the world today and speak English. But you know what the lingua franca used to be less than 100 years ago? French. And at another point in history it was Latin, the language of the Roman Empire. Variety means we’re not all the same. Diversity means we get to learn about other ways of doing things, that aren’t better or worse, just different. Different understandings, different approaches, different opinions, different ways of seeing the world. Diversity should not mean you have to build walls or put up your defenses or learn how to argue or how to protect yourself. Instead, diversity is God’s gift to us all. We’re not all the same, Pentecost kept those differences, didn’t erase them, but embraced the fact that God has made us all so wonderfully different. Thank God for that.


[1] God’s Big Plan by Elizabeth F. Caldwell and Theodore Hiebert

Tuesday, May 21, 2019

A Baptism Sermon on Water


5th Sunday of Easter
May 19, 2019
Revelation 21:1-6


            Water. We take it for granted unless there’s too much of it or too little of it. It’s something we all need; it’s necessary for life. That’s why it was such a big deal to find it on Mars a few years ago. And we tend to assume it’ll come out of the faucet when we turn the knob and will keep flowing until we turn the knob again. One of the shocks moving out here was the first time the power went out, and we learned that on well water, no power means no water. I’ve never lost water before; I’ve always taken it for granted that it will come out of the faucet. Yet the weird thing about water is that while it’s necessary for life, it can also kill life. Consider the record flooding of the Missouri River two months ago that left half of Iowa and 2/3 of Nebraska declared federal disasters. Water gives life and it can take life. Yet we know this, it’s as old as time. God flooded the earth yet saved Noah and those with him on the ark. When the Israelites escaped Egypt, Moses parted the water of the Red Sea and they walked through on dry ground. Then God closed the waters and the Egyptians who chased them drowned. The Israelites were saved by water; the Egyptians died by it. Water is also used to create. You can’t make a sandcastle without adding water to the sand. And, similarly, we are born through water as well, baptized by water when we join God’s family. In Revelation this morning we read, as we have read before in Isaiah, God proclaiming, “I am making all things new!”[1] One way God does that is through the waters of baptism. Now, in that same passage from Revelation, there were three references to water.
            The first one was in the description of a new heaven and a new earth (also an Isaiah reference).[2] The old things have passed away, and God also removes the sea. This may seem like a very curious thing to remove, because it’s not that there’s no water in the new heaven and new earth; we know there is, there’s the river of life, which we’ll get to in a moment. So, there’s water, but no sea. Know why? The sea symbolizes chaos and instability and evil. Think back to the beginning of creation in Genesis 1, “the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters.”[3] The second thing God did, after creating light on Day 1, was on Day 2 and Day 3 to put the water in its place. God created a dome, to separate the waters, and then God gathered all the waters together in one place so that dry land could appear and could produce vegetation. Before there could be that, the sea of primordial chaos had to be organized, stabilized, tamed a little bit. It never is completely, the sea remains occasionally stormy, occasionally threatens, sends hurricanes. While a calm sea doesn’t make a sailor into an expert, stormy seas also separate us from each other. Stormy seas threaten to undo the goodness of God’s creation. And so here at the end of the Bible, as God brings forth a new heaven and new earth, the sea is gone, vanished, disappeared, and its absence is a sign of peace and security in the new creation. No more stormy seas to separate us from each other. No more flooding to destroy life. There is only water that is life-giving in this new creation, never life-draining.
            The second reference to water is in verse 4 where God wipes away every tear from your eyes. God does this because in this new creation there is no more death, crying, pain, mourning, sorrow, anguish, grief, suffering, or distress, and so there is no cause for tears of sadness. These are among the old things that are gone and passed away, the old conditions, the old order, the old ways. While we mourn their passing sometimes, there was another song from the recent remake of the movie “A Star Is Born” that isn’t getting airtime, probably because Lady Gaga doesn’t sing in it. Instead of a duet, it’s a solo by Bradley Cooper called “Maybe It’s Time to Let the Old Ways Die.” The first verse begins, “Maybe it’s time to let the old ways die. Maybe it’s time to let the old ways die. It takes a lot to change a man. Hell, it takes a lot to try. Maybe it’s time to let the old ways die.” And the last verse echoes the first, “Maybe it's time to let the old ways die. Maybe it's time to let the old ways die. It takes a lot to change your plans. Hella drain to change your mind. Maybe it's time to let the old ways die. Oh, maybe it's time to let the old ways die.” In the new creation, the old ways are gone. The old ways involve sorrow and crying and pain and death. The new ways do not. Isn’t that good news! In the new creation water no longer takes life and there is no more death or mourning or crying or pain.
            Finally, in verse six, at the end of our passage this morning, God offers the spring of the water of life. God offers this to those who are thirsty and at no cost, another echo back to Isaiah, this time to chapter 55 and the invitation to the thirsty that says, “Come, all you who are thirsty, come to the waters; and you who have no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without cost.” This is the invitation to all who are thirsty. That means it’s not for those who aren’t thirsty, and that means you have to want it. You have to know you’re thirsty and you have to want to quench that thirst. Otherwise, you’re not going to do anything about it. And then, both in Isaiah and here in the book of Revelation, God offers it freely. No charge. No exchange of goods. It’s a gift, with no strings attached. Another word for this is grace. I usually define grace as unconditional love, and that’s what God’s offering here: love, life-giving water, without any conditions. This is also a feature of the new creation instead of the old. Unlike the unjust economy of Babylon or Rome, or even today’s economy with tariffs and embargoes, this new creation is a place where life and its essentials are given as a free gift, without money, even to those who cannot pay for them, and there is no concern that they can’t pay, or will have to pay later. There’s no looking down on those who can’t pay. It’s offered freely to everyone who’s thirsty.
One more thing about this spring of life-giving water – unlike other springs and wells, this one won’t dry up. A few weeks ago I went on a walking tour of Silver Spring with my fellow pastors who are provisionally ordained and in the process, like me, towards full ordination. One of our stops was the site where the spring was where Silver Spring got its name from. Have any of you ever been there or know this story? Francis Preston Blair, a journalist and political advisor in the early 19th century came to that area seeking a place for his family to live that was a little bit out from Washington, D.C. His daughter found a spring with flecks of mica in it that in the sunlight, made the spring shine like silver. That spring is long since dried up and there’s a small park and plaque now marking its place. However, when we’re talking springs with Jesus, it’s more like his conversation with the Samaritan woman at the well in John 4. They meet at a well and Jesus asks her for a drink. She’s astounded that a Jewish man would ask a Samaritan woman for a drink. Jesus tells her, “If you knew the gift of God and who it is that asks you for a drink, you would have asked him and he would have given you living water… Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life.”[4] This spring of life-giving water is an eternal one that will never run dry. There’s not going to be a plaque that says, here was a life-giving spring. This is the spring of the water of life in the new creation. It gives life, not takes it away. Tears of sadness and despair and chaos are wiped away. And God offers to quench our thirst from a living and everlasting spring. What good news.
Now, there are a few implications of which I want to mention two. One is from a hymn I almost chose for today called “Freely, Freely.” It’s number 389 in your hymnal if you want to look it up later. The refrain says, “'Freely, freely you have received; freely, freely give. Go in my name, and because you believe others will know that I live.” We who have so freely received this life-giving gift of water are to freely share it with others. We don’t keep it boxed up or hoard it. We don’t bury it, like the third servant in Jesus’ parable of the talents, who buried his talent in the ground because he was afraid to use it. We don’t charge others for it. Instead, we forgive others just as we have been forgiven, like we say in the Lord’s Prayer. We love each other just as we have been loved, just as Jesus said in our Gospel this morning. This isn’t “love your neighbor as yourself” from the Old Testament.[5] This is “love each other as Jesus loves you.”[6] Unconditionally. Without limit. Not based on what you can do or what you achieve. No based on whether you agree on politics or share a lot in common or even understand each other. You can love someone without understanding them. You can be gracious and kind toward someone without knowing anything about them. We are all invited to the spring of the water of life. We who have already received are to now freely give.
            The second implication that we can do something about is those systems and institutions in place today that “create conditions such as tears, death, mourning, crying and pain that deny God’s purposes for life.”[7] There are obvious things like poverty and oppression and racism and sexism where you can examine your own biases and how you unwittingly contribute to their perpetuation and change your response. One of today’s biggest problems is what journalism calls “the big sort.” A Texas journalist named Bill Bishop published a book by that title ten years ago. It’s about how “Over the past three decades, we have been choosing the neighborhood (and church and news show) compatible with our lifestyle and beliefs. The result is a country that has become so polarized, so ideologically inbred that people don't know and can't understand those who live a few miles away.”[8] This division in our country is a cause of tears and grief and suffering and death. It is not life-giving. It’s creating chaos. It’s causing people to be thirsty for another option and this is what’s key. God is “at work through social process to replace circumstances that create tears, death, mourning, crying, and pain with circumstances that replace those things with mutually supportive, covenantal community.”[9]
That’s where the church comes in. We, God’s people in God’s world, are called to be a mutually supportive, covenantal community. We come from a variety of backgrounds. We don’t all agree on everything. Yet we have all received the water of eternal life. We have all been baptized into Christ’s Church and are all members of God’s family, brothers and sisters. Today we’re going to renew our covenant as part of K’s baptism. Listen to the different pieces, both the ones that you say and the ones that I say. It’s all there in your hymnal for you to follow along. We have been “given new birth through water and the Spirit.”[10] That’s the new creation that we were born into and join God in working to bring about here on earth. We “renounce the spiritual forces of wickedness.” We “accept the freedom and power God gives [us] to resist evil, injustice, and oppression.” And one of the promises we make to every baptized person is to surround them “with a community of love and forgiveness,” which means that unlike other places, we must be a community of love and forgiveness. We are called to live into the new creation and be a community of peace, not chaos, to let old things that are life-draining pass away, to wipe away each other’s tears when we run into conditions that deny God’s purposes for life, and work to change those conditions. Let’s begin.  If you’d please turn to page 33 in your hymnal and if K and her family and her godparents would please come forward.


[1] Revelation 21:5; Isaiah 43:19
[2] Isaiah 65:17
[3] Genesis 1:2
[4] John 4:10, 13-14
[5] Leviticus 19:18
[6] John 13:34
[8] From the back cover of “The Big Sort” by Bill Bishop, 2009
[10] UMH 33

Wednesday, May 8, 2019

E-I-E-I-O


Rogation Sunday
(3rd Sunday in Easter)
May 5, 2019
Genesis 2:4-15; Psalm 8; John 21:1-19

(Or watch here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YrW-KKCATp4 )

We had planned a blessing of the tractors for the end of the service, but it was too wet.
            I’ve shared with some of y’all before that this is the most rural place I have ever lived.  Some of y’all have heard some of the culture shock my family and I have gone through as we’ve adjusted to life here. It is very different from the cities and suburbs I’m used to and the learning curve has been steep. In fact, I started keeping a list of all the things I’ve learned since moving here:
1.      Weeds are plants that are growing in the wrong place.
2.      Dirt is soil that’s in the wrong place.
3.      Steer are castrated bulls.
4.      The name for a female pig who has not had a litter of piglets is called a gilt.
5.      Horses need coats during the winter to keep them warm. Cows do not need winter coats because they have more fat.
6.      Sunflowers bloom for about two weeks.
7.      A field that I think is empty, or lying fallow for this season, is actually growing hay.
8.      Corn that appears to me overdue for harvesting is actually being left in the field to dry out to become animal feed.
9.      A Judas sheep is one that has been trained to lead the other sheep to the slaughterhouse.
Those are just the highlights from the past two years. I can’t wait to learn what y’all will teach me next! I expect this list to continue to grow. I’m related to some farmers, but it’s different living in a farming community.
            Now, you may have noticed in our Genesis reading that God was the first farmer. After God made the heavens and the earth, after God made Adam, God planted a garden in the east, in Eden. God grew trees in the garden and made sure there was a river to provide irrigation. And once God got it all set up and started, then God put Adam in the garden to work it and take care of it. The original Hebrew words for “work it” and “take care of it” are avad and shamar. They literally mean “to serve” and “protect.” So in the beginning, God’s idea was for people to serve and protect creation. It sounds a bit like being a police officer, to serve and protect. When my kids see a police officer out and about, they often ask why the police officer is there. I tell them that police officers’ job is to make sure we all stay safe. Adam’s job was to keep the garden safe, to grow it, cultivate it, and protect it from things that might destroy it. They may say that prostitution is the oldest profession in the world, but in fact, it's actually farming, since Adam’s job was to be a farmer.
Psalm 8 also says that God made us to be farmers. God made human beings “rulers over the works of [God’s] hands; …put everything under [our] feet: all flocks and herds, and the animals of the wild, the birds in the sky, and the fish in the sea…”[1] We were given the task of being stewards of creation, taking care of it, serving and protecting it. Overall we’ve had some mixed results at being successful with that, but one of the corners of creation where that is being done well is right here. More so than in cities and suburbs, one thing we understand well is that we are co-creators with God and given the responsibility to take care of creation. God put us in charge over creation. How well are we doing? How are the animals? How are the crops? I know, because I’ve learned, that planting time is coming up. Some of us have already been out in our gardens; soon it will be time to be out in the fields. God put it all under our care. What a responsibility! What a privilege. Not everyone gets to be a farmer. If we only had farmers, there would be no computers or hospitals or churches! God does not call everyone to be a farmer. God has clearly called this community to be one centered around ag life, to work the land and take care of the animals.
What’s interesting is that in our Gospel this morning Peter is also told to take care of animals, specifically Jesus’ sheep and lambs. This reading comes right after last week’s with Thomas and is commonly thought of as Jesus reinstating Peter. During the events on Holy Week, if you recall, Peter denied that he knew Jesus three times. Here, Jesus asks Peter three times if Peter loves him, once for each denial.  While denying Jesus had to hurt, Peter broke down and wept afterwards, it also must sting that Jesus asks three times, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” Peter gives the same answer all three times, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.” It’s like a conversation with a young child where they ask you a question, you answer, and they repeat the question again. You may either answer again, or you may say, “I already answered that. Do you remember what I said?” To which the answer is invariably, “No,” which is why they’re asking again. This happens a bit with my four year old. However, Jesus is not four years old. He has not forgotten Peter’s answer nor did he fail to listen to Peter’s answer. Jesus asks three times, Peter answers three times, and Jesus gives the direction three times to “Feed my sheep.”
We know from earlier in John’s Gospel that Jesus is the good shepherd, who lays down his life for the sheep, the shepherd who protects the sheep from the wild animals, the shepherd who knows his sheep and his sheep know his voice. In this case, we are the sheep. After all, people are part of creation, too. We need taking care of, serving and protecting. Things try to destroy us, also. We need nurturing and cultivating so that we might reach our potential, just like any crop or animal.
Jesus tells Peter, “Take care of my sheep.” Even in the fishing scene that comes right before this conversation, Peter is emerging as a leader among the disciples. He wants to go fishing, and the other disciples join him. After Jesus’ ascension, Peter becomes the leader of the early church and apostolic succession, the uninterrupted transmission of spiritual authority, is linked all the way back to him. The Catholic Church, which we trace our Methodist roots back to via the Church of England, considers Peter to be the first Pope. Peter was a shepherd, not of sheep that say “baa,” but the sheep who are God’s people. Ag life does not mean we have nothing to do with people. It means that just as we cultivate the land and crops and animals, we also are called to nourish and serve and protect the people in our community.
Feeding Jesus’ sheep is a tangible way of showing our love for Jesus. It’s putting our faith into action. After all, the single idea the book of James is most known for saying is that “faith without deeds is dead.”[2] You can’t have faith without acting on it. Then it’s not faith, it’s just an idea. But real faith compels you to act, convicts you to live differently, to serve others, to be good stewards of all of God’s creation. While most churches have a fondness for food, y’all really like feeding people. The wagon gets loaded up each month with food for St. Michael’s food bank. I ask for candy for the Easter egg hunt and you provide an abundance. Two different people asked me this past week if we were continuing the youth group bake sale this Sunday, because they wanted to contribute to it. There is something special to y’all about Jesus’ words to “feed my sheep,” to take care of people, in particular by feeding them. And feeding sheep, whether the ovine kind or the people kind, is living out your faith.
Farming is a vocation, just like being a nurse or doctor or teacher or lawyer or pastor. They’re all calls that God places on your life, and you either respond or you ignore them. Y’all have clearly responded. Why else would you get up at 3 a.m. to milk cows? Why else would you put in long hours of near backbreaking work to produce something from the land? Chickens aren’t any more likely to say thank you than little children are. But God has called you to this work. God has given you the tools you need to do it. God’s given you a pastor who had never lived in a farming community before and occasionally gets culture shock or asks silly questions, like “What’s beef field day?”. But in an ag community, you’re not just taking care of the land and the plants and the animals, you take care of the people, too, and I don’t want you to lose sight of that.
The world needs farmers. Always has, going all the way back before Adam, to when God planted the first garden. The world needs food, both the physical kind and the spiritual kind. The mission agency I served with in Nicaragua before seminary is called Food for the Hungry. Its goal is to end physical and spiritual hunger worldwide. The name comes from Psalm 146, the Lord “upholds the cause of the oppressed and gives food to the hungry.” It is through you that God gives food to the hungry; through your work both in the field and outside of it. People are hungry, not just for food, but for opportunity, for resources, for their humanity and dignity to be recognized. We have a big job to do. It begins in the garden and it ends in the kingdom of heaven. Y’all have been uniquely gifted and placed and called to help meet those hungers, one person at a time. That’s why we’re here. That’s why Lisbon is here. This morning we’ll come to the table and be fed ourselves and then we’ll go out to feed others, serving and loving in the name of Jesus.




[1] Psalm 8:6-8
[2] James 2:17, 26

Wednesday, May 1, 2019

Peace, Doubts, and New Life


Holy Humor Sunday
(a.k.a. 2nd Sunday of Easter)
April 28, 2019
John 20:19-31

            Two weeks ago, on Palm Passion Sunday, I made up coloring packets for the children to use in worship, one page to go with each Scripture reading. After worship that day, my husband said that our son didn’t like it very much because all the pictures were sad: Jesus on the cross, Judas betraying Jesus, Peter crying because he denied he knew Jesus. I think the least sad one is Jesus praying in the garden of Gethsemane. We who live 2,000 years after the resurrection, who have always known the end of the story, don’t always quite realize the depths of sadness and despair and guilt that the disciples felt. They truly thought the story was over on Good Friday. After having three great years with Jesus, it was time for life to go on. They didn’t know Sunday was coming. And then Sunday comes, and the women, who went to the tomb to prepare Jesus’ body, instead come back with a wild story about no body and angels saying he’s alive again. Mary Magdalene even says she meets Jesus in the garden. Peter runs and sees the empty tomb. The disciples know the tomb is empty, something has happened to the body. They know what Mary and the angels say, that Jesus is alive. I’m not even going to speculate on what they think or believe at this point. That the body’s been stolen? That Mary has gone crazy? That they want to believe Jesus is alive? I would imagine their thoughts are all over the place. And so later in the day, that same day, they gather together and make sure the doors are locked. Their emotions have been all over the place, and they’ve been strong emotions, so yes, the doors are locked. Nothing else can happen to them. Not today. Not this week. Not this year. They’re done.
Aaand… Jesus shows up. Behind those locked doors, as they’re trying to make sense of what’s going on, in comes Jesus. And the disciples are overjoyed. They’ve just gone from the lowest low to the highest high. A week of strong emotions, roller coaster emotions, indeed. Now, there are many different Easter greetings. The most common one we said last Sunday was “Happy Easter!” At other churches you may hear, “Alleluia! The Lord is risen! He is risen indeed. Alleluia!” Jesus has a different Easter greeting. He says, “Peace be with you.”[1] Jesus doesn’t come in and say “Yay!” or “Ta-da!” or “I’m baaaack!” He says, “Peace be with you.” Jesus doesn’t even begin by rebuking them or criticizing them for their lack of faith or their fear. He’s done that before, if you remember, such as when Peter tried to walk on water. “Ye of little faith, why did you doubt?”[2] No, Jesus doesn’t criticize them at all over their reactions to what’s happened. He simply offers them peace.
Now, “the greeting of peace can sound trite, an echo from the 60’s.  However, Jesus’ greeting is no mere Hallmark sentiment.  He has literally been to hell and back in order to reconcile lost human beings with God.  His peace is not peace as the world gives.”[3] It’s not conditional or superficial or an empty hand gesture. Instead, it is a peace that “surpasses all understanding,” as we read in Philippians 4:7; it’s a peace that is the fruit of the Holy Spirit, listed in Galatians 5; it’s a peace that is connected to justice in Psalm 85. Jesus’ peace is different. And when you feel that peace in the midst of the storm, when you find that still, small voice after the whirlwind, you can take a deep breath and exhale, calmer, more peaceful, knowing God’s got this. There’s those disciples, locked in because there’s just been too much going on, they can’t handle it, can’t process it. And Jesus breathes on them. Puts them at peace. Offers them the Holy Spirit. And reminds them to forgive anyone who has wronged them. It’s a bit calmer now, isn’t it?
However, there were only ten disciples hiding in that locked room. Jesus started with twelve. Judas betrayed him, and then was so overcome by what he did that he killed himself. And Thomas, for some reason or another, isn’t there, either. We’re not told why.  Maybe he was sick, maybe he was visiting family, maybe it was taking him longer than usual to care for his animals.  Maybe he misplaced his iPhone and didn’t get the message that this is where the disciples were gathering that night.  We don’t know why Thomas wasn’t there, but that’s not what’s important.  Instead, we see what happens when everyone’s not all together, for whatever reason, and what happens is that seeds of doubt are sown.  Thomas wasn’t there, and he feels left out.  He missed a Jesus sighting! Perhaps the ideal response would have been a sincere, “Oh, that’s so great, I’m so happy for you! How cool that you got to see the Lord!” 
That's why the Easter bunny made an appearance a week later - to offer eggs to any kids who missed out the previous week. It's never fun being left out, whether you're a kid or an adult. Jesus came back a week later just for Thomas.
However, if we’re perfectly honest with ourselves, it would have been really hard for any of us to respond that way.  Instead, for whatever reason, we missed this great event, we’re jealous that we missed it, we feel left out, and so it’s human nature to respond with doubt and disdain, “Unless I see for myself, I won’t believe.” There’s a part of all of us who identifies with what Missouri Congressman Willard Vandiver said in 1899, “I come from a state that raises corn and cotton, cockleburs and Democrats, and frothy eloquence neither convinces nor satisfies me. I'm from Missouri, and you have got to show me.”[4] This is the same thing that Thomas says, “Unless I see Jesus for myself, complete with the marks on his hands and his feet and his side from where they pierced him, I won’t believe.” Now, Jesus is kind of a nice guy, he has compassion, and so he makes sure to appear again when all of the disciples are present and he responds to Thomas’ feelings of jealousy that he missed out by inviting Thomas to do more than the other disciples did.  Jesus invites Thomas to touch him, to put his hand in the hole in his side. Jesus gently and kindly invites Thomas to stop doubting, to stop being jealous, to stop feeling left out, and instead, to believe.  Thomas often gets a bad rap, and the nickname of “Doubting Thomas.” Yet the truth is any of us could be Thomas. No one likes to be taken in or made fun of. No one likes to be left out. Of course Thomas has doubts and becomes a classic Missourian, saying, “You have to show me.” The good news is that doubts do not disqualify us from discipleship any more than anxiety does. Take a deep breath. It’s okay to have questions. Actually, it’s good to have questions. You may not get answers, but a good question can renew you and give you some new life.
You see, the Gospel of John adds on at this point a nice little closing statement, even though it’s not actually the end of the Gospel. “Jesus performed many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not recorded in this book. But these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name.” Two of the things the Gospel of John is known for are all the signs and wonders that Jesus did and for what Jesus said about himself, those “I am” statements. “I am the way, the truth, and the life.”[5] “I am the resurrection and the life.”[6] “I am the good shepherd.”[7] John wrote all these things down in order that you may believe, and that by believing, you may have life. Jesus told Thomas, “Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” That’s us. We did not live with Jesus in Palestine 2,000 years ago. It means we were not quite as heartbroken and in the depths of despair as the disciples were on Good Friday. And yet we believe. Faith is not certainty. If we were certain, there would be no room for faith.
I remember a ropes obstacle course I went on with my high school youth group. At one point in the course, I told God, “Ok, my trust is in you and this little piece of blue rope.” I really wasn’t sure that little piece of blue rope was going to get me across. I was sure that there was a high likelihood of me falling off the course down to the ground. But you know what? I didn’t. There was another time I fell in youth group. We did that exercise where you close your eyes and fall backwards, having to trust in your friends to catch you. Well, I knew they would catch me, and so I just fell, deadweight. Guess what? They didn’t catch me. Faith and certainty are two different things. Thomas asked for certainty, and he got it. Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe. Blessed are those who have life in his name, because they believe. When you fall down, you can choose to be embarrassed, maybe even hide it with anger, maybe even lash out looking for someone to blame. Or you can laugh at yourself. Let it roll off. Try again. After all, blessed are those who can laugh at themselves, for they shall never cease to be amused.


[1] John 20:19
[2] Matthew 14:31
[3] Easter 2019 email from the Center for Reconciliation at Duke Divinity School
[5] John 14:6
[6] John 11:25
[7] John 10:11 and 14

Tuesday, April 23, 2019

New Life


Easter Sunday
April 21, 2019
Isaiah 65:17-25; Psalm 118:14-24; Luke 24:1-12

            The original work of fiction exploring the idea of an ideal society was the novel Utopia published by Thomas More in 1516. This book is also the first recorded instance of the word, ‘utopia.’ It has its roots in Greek words that mean “no place” and “good place.”[1] The opposite, dystopia, then means a “not good place.” Dystopian fiction dates back to the French Revolution of 1789 and began as a response to utopian fiction. Many classics of the 20th century are considered to be utopian or dystopian fiction: Brave New World, 1984, A Clockwork Orange, Animal Farm, Fahrenheit 451, We. These all describe societies in which what was thought to be best went horribly wrong. The 1990s saw the first young adult dystopian novel, The Giver by Lois Lowry, and it saw the rise of apocalyptic and post-apocalyptic movies, scenarios that can cause a dystopia, like Independence Day, Armageddon, The Matrix, even Jurassic Park, as a theme park turns deadly.
Since then, there have been a plethora of books, TV shows, and movies about dystopian worlds: The Hunger Games, The Walking Dead, Falling Skies, Battlestar Galactica, the Divergent series, The Maze Runner series, and so many more. The genre has really taken off. They’re based on worst-case scenarios: zombies, alien invasion, plague, nuclear bomb, a complete depletion of the earth’s resources, and then what is life like after that happens? Often the protagonists are teenagers with no memory of what life was like before; this dystopian world is the only one they’ve ever known, and they struggle to make it better. They don’t want to make it necessarily utopian; they’re just working to make it just and fair with a more equal sharing of power and resources. There is no going back to how it was before. It’s impossible. They can’t “look for the living among the dead,” as the angels accuse the women of doing in our Easter Gospel reading this morning.[2] Instead, in this post-Apocalytic world, they have to find a new way forward. The worst has happened. You survived it. Or maybe you were born after it. Now, how do you live in this new world?
In our psalm this morning we read the declaration, “I shall not die but I shall live.” It implies living is a choice. You can decide to live, or you can decide to wither away. It’s an interesting idea, because we had no choice over our conception or the world we were born into. But we can choose to live. It’s not a utopian or dystopian movie, but a romantic comedy that came out around the same time is My Big Fat Greek Wedding. The main character, Toula, is worried about upsetting her father by marrying someone who’s not Greek, and her mother tells her, “I gave you life so that you could live it.” It’s similar to what Jesus says in the Gospel of John, “The thief comes only to steal, kill, and destroy. I came so that you could have life, so that you could live life to the fullest.”[3] Whether you see the world around you as utopian, dystopian, or somewhere in between, it’s still up to you to choose to live abundantly, to declare, “I shall not die but I shall live.”
How? First, don’t look for the living among the dead. That is a fruitless search that will get you nowhere. Change can be hard. I imagine being born into a dystopian world would be a whole lot easier than living through the transition. Yet we are here, living in a time of transition. Life changes all around us, as crops are planted, grown, and harvested. Children grow. We change and grow, too. It’s interesting when meeting again someone we knew long ago to see how each of us has changed, and to allow room for that change. Who we are now is not who we were 20 years ago. Our loved ones are not who they were 20 years ago, either. We go looking for the living among the dead when we expect others to stay the same, when we refuse to allow them to change. We go looking for the living among the dead when we hold tight to former visions of ourselves or our church, as if we might suddenly become again who we once were. I’ve had rheumatoid arthritis for 13 years now, and I can get nostalgic thinking about how great my health was at age 25. But it’s never helpful for life now, much less for the future. My body is not the same. That’s who I was, and what I could do then. But you know what? I can do a lot of other things now that I couldn’t do then. My pre-RA life is over, and that’s why Isaiah says, “The former things will not be remembered, nor will they come to mind.”[4] I am creating a new thing. It’s a “challenge to stop hanging on to the dead and to move into new life.”[5]
The antidote, when you find yourself looking for the living among the dead, is remembrance. The angels tell the women at the tomb, “Remember how he told you, while he was still with you.”[6] In fact, the angels’ question about looking for the living among the dead directly echoes Jesus’ words. In Luke 20, some teachers of the law, the Sadducees, who don’t believe in the resurrection, try to trick Jesus with a question about Mosaic law: a man’s brother dies and leaves behind a wife. The man is obligated to marry her. But say there are seven brothers and the first one dies, too; in fact, each brother marries her and dies. So, at this resurrection which we don’t believe in, whose wife is she? Jesus replies that marriage happens in this age, but not in the age to come. And, in the age to come, people will no longer die. They are God’s children, and God “is not the God of the dead, but of the living, for to [God] all are alive.”[7] God sent Jesus so that everyone who believes in him might not die but have life. Because God is God of the living, and you will find life among the living, not among what is dead. Remember what Jesus has told you.
Another way to choose to live is what the protagonists in young adult dystopian literature do: work towards transforming the world into a more just and peaceful place. Consider the vision of the promised kingdom we read in Isaiah. “Never again will there be an infant who lives but a few days, or an old man who does not live out his years… No longer will [you] build houses and others live in them, or plant and others eat… [You] will not labor in vain, nor will [you] bear children doomed to misfortune; for [you] will be a people blessed by the Lord, [you] and [your] descendants with them.”[8] There will be longevity. There will be work that is rewarding and rewarded. There will be blessing and joy and delight. Furthermore, relationships will change. “The wolf and the lamb will feed together, and the lion will eat straw like the ox, and dust will be the serpent’s food. They will neither harm nor destroy on all [God’s] holy mountain.”[9] Wolves no longer eat lambs, they eat with the lambs. The lion turns into an herbivore. There is no more predator and prey. Instead there’s harmony and cooperation. And while you may feel sorry for the snakes because they get dust, think of them a little more metaphorically. The snake also represents original sin, back to the Garden of Eden when the snake tricked Eve into eating from the tree God said not to. So, sin becomes dust and is remembered no more as it blows away in the breeze. This is the kingdom of heaven. This is the new creation.
This is what Easter is all about. Easter is considered to be the 8th day of creation, when everything is made new. It’s not a brand new creation, it’s the restoration of the old one where cracks are filled in, chips are painted over, and somehow, in the restoration, instead of looking identical to the original, it looks better, brighter, sharper, wholer. This is what is possible thanks to Christ’s victory over death. “Resurrection is God’s power to create a new reality for all creation.”[10]
Children will not be doomed to misfortune. We will not labor in vain. Things will be put right. And we don’t just sit back and wait for that to happen. No. This “promise of a new creation [is] God once again calling all [of us] to practice compassion, justice, and loving-kindness and to commit ourselves once again to a way of life that yields peace and security for all people.”[11] We watch for those glimpses of heaven on earth and we join God in the work of bringing heaven on earth. We work towards ending dystopias. We learn a lot about ourselves and grow when we go through horrible times. Yet a friend pointed out to me that what one person considers a dystopia may be someone else’s reality. Some people live under dictators or with famine or on land that’s been on the receiving end of a scorched earth policy. General Sherman burned Atlanta in 1864; yet look at that city now. It has grown back and is flourishing. It took time and a lot of work and rebuilding.
            In dystopian worlds, it’s often survival of the fittest, or at least the one who can think quickest on their feet. They are stories of choices and consequences and they don’t always have a happy ending.[12] In contrast, God says there will be no harm or destruction in the promised kingdom. There will be no more weeping or crying, and no more death, because God is God of the living. A utopian society tends to be seen as impossible and unattainable ideal. Yet God’s kingdom is possible and real and we are invited to work to make it happen here on earth. The women were not expecting resurrection. They thought they were looking for the dead among the dead. Too often we don’t expect resurrection, either. And either way, we find ourselves among the dead and things past. But Jesus came so that we might have life, and have it abundantly, both now and in the age to come. And it does not take away from my abundant life to help you live your abundant life. We are here together. No predators and prey. Instead, as the Servant Song says, “We are pilgrims on the journey. We are travellers on the road. We are here to help each other/ Walk the mile and bear the load.”[13] There are so many little things we can do to show the signs of God’s new creation: a cup of water, a phone call, a hug. These all help bring new life to someone who’s been looking for the living among the dead. But Jesus is not there. What you’re looking for is not there. The new life, better life, the peace you’re seeking, the acceptance you’re seeking, the love you’re seeking – you’re not going to find it among things past. That isn’t going to help and it’s not healthy. Instead we turn to Jesus, who is among the living. Jesus is not dead, but is risen. That’s the Easter surprise. Go looking for the living among the living. Go looking for things that give life. Claim the new abundant life that Christ offers you. Show signs of new life and love to all those around you.
           



[2] Luke 24:5
[3] John 10:10, CEB
[4] Isaiah 65:17b
[5] Feasting on the Word, Year C, Vol. 2, p. 351
[6] Luke 24:6
[7] Luke 20:38
[8] Isaiah 65:20, 22, 23
[9] Isaiah 65:25
[10] Feasting on the Word, Year C, Vol. 2, p. 354
[11] Preaching God’s Transforming Justice, Year C, p. 218
[13] The Faith We Sing 2222