When Necessity and Opportunity Meet
When Necessity and Opportunity Meet
Fifth Sunday of Easter
May 6, 2012
Acts 8:26-40
John 15:1-8
As some of you are aware the United Methodist Church had its General Conference meeting over the past two weeks in Tampa, Florida. The General Conference is the legislative body of our denomination and is comprised of elected clergy and lay delegates who gather every four years from within the United States and around the world to make decisions about the governance of the Church; changes to the Book of Discipline and other amendments such as clergy compensation, guaranteed appointments, pensions, etc. I am told that 1,000 delegates represented us.
One of the most contested decisions this year revolved around the matter of the language stipulating, that “homosexuality is incompatible with Christian teaching.” This has been a long debated topic. Some of you have asked me about this and you may or may not know that any self-avowed homosexual cannot be ordained as an elder in the United Methodist Church and as fully ordained elders, Pastor Mandy and I are not allowed to perform same sex marriages in this church or anywhere. We are bound by the Church to this ruling regardless of our personal opinions about the matter.
It might seem absurd to us now and particularly to this present congregation but it wasn’t so very long ago that the Church (capital C) was making similar decisions about the abolition of slavery – and by the way, our choir member Valerie Coates has done a fabulous job researching the history of Park Avenue United Methodist Church and we have discovered that this church was at the forefront of that discussion. As a matter of fact, I am told that 175 years ago, the very first pastor appointed here was done so as a punishment because he was an abolitionist.
And then there was the matter of the ordination of women and what to do with people like Mandy and me, Jessica, Sarah, and Pastor Betsy. What to do with us and our sense of call, purpose and leadership in the church. Even now, as I look around on the Upper East Side I can count on one finger (as far as I know) the number of women who serve as Senior Minister of any church of any denomination. So you ought to feel proud of your history and who you are. The “Church” (capital C) is a work in progress, the United Methodist Church is a work in progress, and yes, we too are a work in progress.
I have to tell you that this decision this week has been upsetting. Part of it is a matter of how our brothers and sisters around the world read and interpret Scripture; most often selecting certain ones and leaving others out.
I want to go on record – although I hope that this is not new news – that I love and support all of our members and friends without distinction; without prejudice or discrimination and I think this is true of our entire congregation. All are welcome here and I stake my claim upon each of you this morning. And with every fiber of my being, I believe that God does to.
And so, we come to our lesson from the book of Acts that Joseph just read. How many of you have ever heard this story?
It seems to me no small miracle that the Spirit would have this text assigned for today. On this Sunday after such a major decision by our General Conference, we have a text about radical inclusion: the story of an Ethiopian eunuch on his way from Jerusalem who has a conversion experience with a disciple named Philip.
It is after the crucifixion; after the resurrection and the news of what has happened is being pushed beyond the boundaries of Jerusalem and Judea on to Samaria and throughout the world.
Philip finds himself on a deserted road along the Mediterranean coast going down toward Gaza. Along the way, he encounters a man reading from the Holy Book.
He is an Ethiopian man which means that he is a black man and a “foreigner.”; an outsider who had made that long pilgrimage. He is a eunuch which means that his sexuality was an issue – probably even more so than his race or national origin. A eunuch. In ancient times, a eunuch was a castrated male servant who was trusted to perform certain social functions for royalty. They were safe men who could be trusted to be around women of the royal court because they would not be a sexual threat. They lacked preference or desire. They were men marginalized and stereotyped as sexually immoral and forbidden to enter the temple to worship. Even though he had made that long trip to Jerusalem it is likely that the man was never allowed to enter the temple. He was an important man, in charge of the treasury of the queen mother of Ethiopia - an “insider in his own country but an outsider to the faith he sought to embrace.
Barbara Brown Taylor says that he is “someone wealthy enough to ride in a chariot, educated enough to read Greek, devout enough to study the prophet Isaiah, and humble enough to know that he cannot understand what he is reading without help.”[1]
When Philip comes upon him he is sitting in a chariot reading aloud from the book of Isaiah.
Like a sheep he was led to the slaughter, and like a lamb he was silent before its shearer, so he does not open his mouth. In his humiliation justice was denied him. Who can describe his generation? For his life is taken away from the earth.[2]
Do you remember that passage? We read on Good Friday from Isaiah 53?
These two men find themselves at an intersection where opportunity and necessity come together. Some call this a kairos moment – a critical juncture, a divine appointment or intervention that provokes a radical response, an urgent choice, or a fundamental reorientation.
Paul Tillich, that great Lutheran theologian of the 20th century; professor at Union Theological Seminary and Harvard University said that kairos is “the manifestation of the divine dimension of the moment…when the new reality has come, the time of the New Being.”[3]
When the cries of history create an opportunity for, and indeed demand, an existential decision by the human subject; an appointed time, the crucial time; the moment of truth into which humanity must speak.
Perhaps you have had those moments in your own life. When you stood at a crossroad; one you did not expect nor design. One you cannot explain; it defies logic. A critical moment when all that you are seemed to be on the line and you had to make a decisive choice or speak a deliberate word or perform a radical act as if your very humanity depended on it.
Oprah called it an “Aha moment.” Others say, “being at the right place at the right time.” In Latin it means carpe dieum (seize the day). Whatever we choose to call it, the message is the same: there is an appointed time; an appointed moment when life can no longer be lived with a “business as usual” attitude. The purposes of God must be fulfilled.
The Ethiopian had a need for radical inclusion to be part of God’s family and Philip had an opportunity to do something about it. The two met at this intersection and everything changed.
According to the text, the Spirit, said, “Philip go over there and ask him: do you know what you are reading?” And Philip did so. The man replied, “How can I know unless someone guides me?” And he invited Philip to join him in the chariot. Philip began to explain and proclaimed the good news of Jesus Christ; what had happened. How he had been crucified and raised from the dead on the third day.
And as they were going along the road, they came to some water; and the eunuch said, “Look here is water! What is to prevent me from being baptized?” Having heard the gospel of Jesus Christ, is there anything about me that stands in the way and keeps me from being baptized and becoming a full member of the household of God?
That is the question, isn’t it? The question before us and the question the Church must reckon with. What is to prevent me from being baptized?
Is there anything? The color of my skin? My gender? My sexual orientation or preference? My financial status? My level of education? Whether I am married or single or divorced? What is to prevent me from being part of the family of God? It seems all of us at some point have been marginalized; all of us have been on the outside but God welcomes us to the inside.
The answer to that question in the first century church was: “nothing.” There is nothing to prevent you from being included. The Ethiopian and Philip went on down in the water and Philip baptized him with the same waters of baptism that washed my sins away and your sins away. The same water that ushered each of us into a life of faith. As an infant, before many of you ever took your first step or had a twinkle in your eye toward anybody, that same water of baptism was poured over you. And it is still good. Still valid.
We are still in the Easter season and I live in perpetual hope that one day the Church will rise up and have the kind of kairos moment that allows itself to embrace all of the gifts and all the witness of all its people.
I am not going to give up on the Church – weak and frail though we humans may be at times. I am not going to give up on it. I stand here as a living witness that things change. All things are possible. It is just a matter of time.
In just a few moments we are going to come to the table of Holy Communion. We are going to feast on the broken body and spilled blood of our Lord. All are welcome. No one is excluded.
“The chastisement of our peace was upon him. And by his stripes we are healed.”[4]
Ad Astra Per Aspera: To the Stars Through Difficulties!
Ad Astra Per Aspera: To the Stars Through Difficulties!
By Rev. Mandy Iahn
When was the last time your heart burned within you? Now, I’m not talking about heartburn. Not talking about how your throat feels after your third cup of coffee or how when you lay in bed at night that steak you just ate feels like its stuck in your esophagus.
I’m talking about the kind of burning in your heart that means you are inspired, that means you are passionate about something or someone. That feeling of enthusiasm that means you are truly alive, that you are willing to take a risk. I’m talking about the kind of burning the disciples felt in their hearts when they were walking with the Living God. When was the last time you felt like that?
Perhaps its been awhile. The ins and outs of daily life are hardly inspiring most days and the routine becomes something that we just do. At times you may feel bored with life, uninspired, and even complacent. You aren’t producing great ideas and aren’t willing to take risks.
The spiritual journey is not an easy one for any of us, although all of us have the opportunity to live happy lives even amidst adversity. This is where the title of the sermon comes from. Ad astra per aspera, or to the stars through difficulties. My father taught me this Latin phrase in high school, and its been a constant reminder since that it is through our pain, our suffering, our challenges and our difficulties that we do great things, that we reach the stars.
I’d like to use a man named Stan Curtis as an example. Stan Curtis was a man who knew difficulties. He was born to parents who didn’t or couldn’t care for him, so he was abandoned by them and raised in an orphanage. He often felt alone and sad; he often doubted his self-worth and wondered why he was unlovable. But he didn’t let the hardship reduce him as a person. Instead, he worked harder and put himself through college. He took risks and became a successful stockbroker. At first, I’m sure he strived for success for himself so he would never be vulnerable and dependent again, but through his difficulties he developed compassion for others, and then made it his mission to give and serve those who were in need.
I’ll tell you the most note-worthy thing Stan has accomplished in a minute, but he isn’t that different from most of us. We all have our stories about how life has challenged us. The abusive home, the absentee parent, that first person who broke our heart, the trials and tribulations of growing up, the need for money, the divorce, the illness, the loneliness, the depression. None of us is a stranger to heartache.
But the message of today is ad astra per aspera! To the stars through difficulties. Difficulties and risks.
Jesus knew the pain and struggle and the risk. The great teachings and loving ways that he put out there were ultimately rejected by his society. Then there’s the disciples, who had to leave their nets, their families, everything they had known to follow Jesus, and boy is that a risk! They also knew the pain of loss. First, they lost the one person who meant so much to them. Then, their whole philosophy on life was called into question when Jesus was brutally murdered.
But then, the resurrection happened.
In the days and weeks after the resurrection, a change happened in the disciples. They discovered their power; they were anointed with new life. This new life made them enthusiastic; it stirred them up.
We have heard the stories of how they were afraid at first, but imagine the joy around the table the night that Jesus walked with them to Emmaus and broke bread with them at the table. They were sitting around eating and talking. Scripture doesn’t record the conversation, but Jesus must have said something to inspire the disciples to act because in the book of Acts, we hear of the disciples doing mighty deeds in Jesus’ name. They were empowered to preach, to teach and even to heal.
After one such healing, the religious authorities were upset by what was taking place. They questioned the disciples as though what they were doing was improper or wrong, but the disciples didn’t get intimidated and back down. Instead, Scripture says they became filled with the Holy Spirit and said to those questioning them, “let it be known to all of you, and to all the people of Israel, that this man is standing before you in good health by the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth.”
While in front of those who doubted and questioned them, the disciples didn’t apologize or run away. Why? Because they had developed character and strength through their difficulties and were on their way to accomplishing the goals of heaven (to the stars through difficulty). Empowered by the Holy Spirit of God, the disciples brought healing to the world in the mighty name of Christ.
Which gets me thinking about us, the present day disciples of Jesus. Resurrection hope leads to new life, and new life is active and brave. The activity and bravery comes forth when one is willing to take a risk of some kind. Risk combined with talent is the creative force of God in this world empowering us to bring forth/birth new life. Instead of letting the difficulties shut us down, let them open us up and make us brave and bold.
What about you? What challenge in your life has sparked passion and eventually propelled you onward and upward? I think this is how God works sometimes. Ad astra per aspera: to the stars through difficulties.
Because even though we have challenges before us, we also have the Holy Spirit dwelling within us. Even though we are troubled each in our own way, we can still be enthusiastic and empowered in Christ.
So let me tell you more about Stan Curtis, the boy left by his parents at an orphanage who decided to make something of his life. Back in 2004, Curtis took a leap of faith, he took a risk and started a program called Blessings in a Backpack, which provides food for children and families over the weekends.
I didn’t know this but according to the U.S. Department of Agriculture and the U.S. Department of Education, 21 million children are on free or reduced-cost school lunches, which means 1 out of every 2 4th grader receives a free or subsidized meal. What that often means then is children who are fed well during the week often go hungry on the weekends because there is not adequate food at home. Through Blessings in a Backpack, such kids are given a backpack filled with nutritious food on Friday afternoons to take home for the weekend. Stan Curtis started this ministry because he grew up poor and hungry; in his struggle, he grew strong and courageous. He took a leap of faith and now because of him, 1000s of children are not as hungry and any one of us could start a Blessings in a Backpack in any neighborhood. It’s like a franchise outreach project. (If you’re interested in starting one here, talk to me.)
That is exactly what Tama Clapper is doing out in Gillette, Wyoming. She started by giving backpacks to 50 kids who one local school said were hungry, and now she is feeding over 400 children in 10 different schools. She and the 50 Holy Spirit, empowered volunteers who have come forward are working to end hunger in their community. Ad astra per aspera.
To the stars through difficulties.
We human beings are capable of so much when we are inspired and impassioned about something.
Recently, one word has come to be special to me and that word is risk. Because going through the tough times and living into our potential as children of God requires some risk on our part. You have to keep putting yourself out there.
Ad astra per aspera. To the stars through difficulties.
Remember the heart burn we talked about in the beginning? If you have it or not? Passion. Intensity. Enthusiam. Heart for something or someone other than yourself. It’s a call to action. It’s a call to be who you truly are and live your best life now. Let’s go for it.
So I’m going to leave you with these words about risk, and I pray you heed them when the Spirit strikes.
Risk:
Be willing to lose something in order to gain something else. Take an emotional risk: [trust someone fully or say to someone else] I love you and want to be with you. Take a financial risk: [change jobs or] invest in [your own] business. Take a creative risk: pick up a paintbrush or a violin; go [dancing]; show your [memoires] to somebody. Be willing to show your vulnerabilities: cry. Take the risk and show more power than you’ve shown before: insist! Risk everything, and if you lose it all, realize how much richer you are for it. Risk being laughed at, risk being heckled, risk being silenced. Risk being hurt. Risk being more joyful, more brilliant, more alive, and more filled with the [Holy Spirit] than you’ve ever imagined. Only when you’re ready to risk losing it all can you risk having it all…. (Snyder, Rachel. Words of Wisdom for Women. Pg. 268).
My inspired comrades, let’s take a risk! Ad astra per aspera! To the stars through difficulties.
The Shepherd and the Sheep (04/22/2012)
The Shepherd and the Sheep
As we gather our hearts this morning on the third Sunday of Easter, we are reminded that we are still in the Easter season which goes all the way to Ascension Sunday and Pentecost. As I have been saying for the past couple of weeks, Easter is not a one time, a one Sunday event; it is a season of weeks in which we are assured and reassured that what we claimed on April 8 is true for us. We serve a risen Lord who lives among us and has all power even over death and the grave.
Our readings for today give us another window into the character and divinity of Christ. He is presented as our Shepherd; loving and caring; worthy of our trust and confidence.
I have noticed that we typically do not read or sing the psalms here at Park Avenue Methodist; perhaps you will be open to that from time to time as we move forward for we surely do miss an important rendering of Holy Scripture when we leave them out.
The accompanying psalm for our readings for today is Psalm 23. We all know this masterpiece and if you don’t, it is certainly worth knowing. It is probably the best known and most often quoted scripture in the entire Bible; matchless in beauty and form; eloquent and poetic. It hits us at the core of who we are as human beings and our need to be comforted and assured.
I cannot imagine that there could ever be a statistic on this but my guess is that the 23rd Psalm has been on the lips of thousands and thousands of people -- Christians and non-Christians alike – most often as they faced life's challenges and walked through the darkest valleys of death.
For many of us, the last words on our lips before drifting off to the dead of sleep under anesthesia and just before surgery is: The Lord is my Shepherd.. It is rehearsed standing by the grave site of loved ones while we ponder “how will we go on from here.”
It seems to me that if all we ever had was the first few lines: the Lord is my shepherd, I shall want, or as some translations suggest: “because the Lord is my shepherd I do not need a thing.”
If that is all we had; all we know; if our entire theology is wrapped up in these few words alone and we are somehow able to grasp hold of them and hang onto them and live them out in profound and personal way - that would be enough. That’s all we would ever need; close the Bible and walk away with just that.
Because you see, imbedded in this kind of theology is the assurance that there is a supreme being in the universe named God. And God is the Shepherd who always looks after the sheep. And the sheep include you and me.
God’s care is matchless. He looks out for us and tends to us. Protects us from harm. Restores us when we are tired and battered by life. Shepherd God is never very far away. He is always listening and watching and making sure our needs are met. When the enemy – the wolfs and the bears of the world come after us they can only come so close because the Shepherd stands guard and is able to fight them off.
Even when we go stray and we most surely do and we will; when we wander off on our own; go our own way, the shepherd comes after us. And he looks high and low and searches until he finds us. So pressure are we that he is willing to put all the others at risk; leaves them behind until we are found and then – then he gently leads us back to the fold. Allows us to lie down safely in pleasant pastures green and continues to pursue us with goodness and mercy all my days.
Even to the point of death, he is there. Still with us. Safely transitioning us from one side to the other side.
And because we claim such a One as our Shepherd; our caretaker, we are his and he is ours – we can settle down some. Relax a bit. Let go of our grip and our fears and worries. We can focus on the important things of life trusting that the Shepherd provides. Nothing is lacking.
Most scholars believe that this beautiful psalm was written by King David not in his prime nor even as a young shepherd boy but most likely near the end of his life. This writing speaks of the work of a seasoned patriarch, an old king sitting on a throne looking back over everything. It is the writing of one who had been tried and tested; a seasoned soul, a veteran of faith who has known both victory and defeat; good times and hardship. Ups and downs.
At the end of it all, David looks back and declares with absolutely certainty: The Lord is my shepherd. I have everything I need. Everything in this moment and everything in the future. I am satisfied.
It does not get better than this, my friends. For these words sum up the entire work of God in the world and reminds us of God deep longing and constant care for us – his sheep. For those who wish to be led. Those who are weak and most vulnerable. Those at risk in the world; those who are in danger and cannot fend for themselves.
More than ever, it seems to me that the world is crying out for someone like this. For a church and a community of people with whom they can find affirmation, safety and sanctuary.
And contrary to what we read and hear some days, I don’t think that’s going to go out of style – not in my life time. The ways of the world will always demand something better – something good; true; alive.
I know that this is an old metaphor; seems almost out of date – the art of shepherding has almost become obsolete. When I was growing up, the minister pastor was seen as the shepherd of the flock. It was his or her primary responsibility to take care of those given to their care. The people were the sheep and the shepherd’s job was to tend to them; love them; lead them by word and example. And then empower them to also become caretakers of one another and others
All those years after the psalm was written, the writer of the Gospel of John records these words of Jesus spoken to those who were not so sure clear about his identity and purpose.
Jesus tells them, I am the Good Shepherd. I lay down my life for the sheep. I am not some fly by night hired hand who runs at the first sign of danger.
The hired hand will never be willing or able to go the extra mile. Always ready to abandon, there is no safety with someone who is only doing something for the money or some other ulterior motives.
Jesus says, I know my sheep and my sheep know me just as the Father knows me and I know the Father.
He makes this claim on us even before his death and resurrection. He makes this claim without question: You are mine. I am willing to die for you.
The question before us this morning is whether or not we can also make that claim about him: you are mine! My shepherd My Lord. You are mine and I am yours.
On the inside of the cover page of your bulletin we have printed the 23rd Psalm. I want to encourage you to take it home with you and reacquaint yourself with it this week. There will be many opportunities for you to rehearse it, I promise.
Make it part of the air in which you breath. As you find yourself leaving your home in the morning, perhaps walking to work or from work; sitting on the bus or train or driving in your car.
When wondering how you are going to make it through the day or how you will get from one life circumstance to the next. Or confronted with a difficult personality just begin to recite the words. When frustrated by a situation at home or relationship in your family or even and perhaps most assuredly as good news and joy comes your way, gently whisper it beneath your breath or declare it out loud. Make it the final words of the day when you find yourself drifting off into sleep: the Lord is my shepherd. Use it as often as possible.
Now, I am going to ask you to sit still for a moment and we are going to say it together. You might want to place your hands on your lap; with your palms facing up. If you remember the psalm by heart, then close your eyes as we recite – even if you get some of the lines out of place it’s alright. If you don’t know it or can’t remember it, just read along but go back and take some time to learn it.
Now, let’s say it together as we reclaim our kinship with God. Ask him to be your Shepherd and allow yourself to be his sheep.
Let us begin. Slowly. Reverently.
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; he leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul; he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies; thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
Seeing is Believing
Seeing is Believing
Second Sunday of Easter
April 15, 2012
Acts 4:32-35
John 20:19-31
“Cathy, I feel more like a Good Friday Christian than an Easter Sunday Christian,” she lamented that evening during our Bible study class. “There’s not very much good going on in my life these days. I want to be all excited, but you know there is a reality in the day to day world and some days I don’t feel like Easter at all.”
I understood where Heather (her name has been changed to protect the innocent) was coming from. I was glad that she felt comfortable; safe enough to speak so freely; and I appreciated her candor and truth. I had known her for years; been good friends with her parents and in some ways, had watched her grow into a beautiful (and from my perspective), a successful young woman.
I suspected that she spoke for others in the class that night and it was certainly not a new statement. I had heard it more times than I care to admit over nearly 20 years of ministry.
This morning brings us back to the reality of our day to day world, doesn’t it? The orchestra is gone at least for now. We are back to our standard services. Coffee hour will look and feel pretty much the same.
For most of us our Lenten disciplines have come and gone and the Wednesday evening services with accompanying soup and bread are at least a year away. Life is back to "normal".
Someone commented to me on their way out last Sunday, "Cathy, this was wonderful! I wish it could be like this every Sunday." Later I got to thinking about that because that is exactly the point. Part of the good news on the Sunday “after” Easter is that Easter is not a one day event. The really good news is that Easter has only just gotten started.
Last week whether we meant it or not we were invited to join the chorus of believers around the world in declaring the most fundamental aspect of our Christian faith: Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed!
And we did join that chorus - those of us who were here. We joined it in part, well, because we ministers and the choir invited us to. But also, I think, because deep down we know that there is something transcendent about Easter - the triumphant story of an innocent man bearing the suffering of humanity on a hard cross of wood for love's sake - and then being resurrected out of death into new life. Even those who make their way only once a year know something instinctively about it too. They know that something new and unheard of has happened; something that defies human logic, grief and fear, and the darkness of our world. Even if we don’t understand it or cannot explain it, it is easy enough to say to ourselves: surely, something must have happened and it’s held its ground all these years.
But today is also a Sunday of confession. And perhaps we should at least acknowledge that for all we have heard and for all that we have seen, sometimes it is still difficult to believe. In those quiet, lonely, fearful moments, it is difficult to believe in that which we cannot see; that good triumphs over evil; right wins out in the end. Why bad things happen to good people. Why the good seem to die young. That renewal happens on the other side of present pain and anguish.
We can confess that sometimes, we don't know where to go next or what to do. Or who to believe or trust. Or even what to believe anymore. We need signs and symbols; people and friends as well as enemies to remind us that what we have so nobly declared is really true. We need signs like the great hymns of the church and the spirituals that reach deep down in places of longing and sorrow. The words of Scripture and prayers. Wedding that speak to a new life together and baptisms; even funerals that remind us that death is not the end those who live in Christ will also die in Christ. We need signs of healing and reconciliation within our community; forgiveness of wrongs and communal love.
We need our own little miracles. Those private stories that only we know - all those twists and turns and disappointments that did not break us fully; did not take us all the way out but rather left us scared but inspired, determined to go on anyhow. We can confess that it has taken all of these experiences to form the person we have now become. We are not what we used to because faith, if anything, is progressive. It is not some solitary act or isolated moment in time; some lone event that stands off by itself. Faith is cumulative; something we grow into and what we believe is critical. Because what we truly believe about ourselves and God impacts everything: the way we act; the way we talk and think. The way we live in the present and most importantly, the way we live into the future. I think that's where the real proof of Easter lies - not in the events of the past, thank God, but the real sign of Easter resurrection is in what is happening with us right now and how we move forward into the future.
Our Gospel lesson reminds us of that this morning. Those early disciples also struggled with belief. What they had seen was their Lord crucified. They may have been watching from a distance but they were there in Jerusalem. They heard the soldiers cry “crucify him”. They felt the energy in the crowd and saw the angry faces. They knew there was a dead body, crucified, and buried with large holes in its hands and gaping wounds in its side. They knew what death looked like. Now, news that he is alive is more than defies their logic.
It is evening on that first Easter and they have gathered in an upper room hiding behind closed doors; locked down in fear; paralyzed by doubts and disbelief. They were not out looking for a living Christ. Not allowing themselves to be so foolish. They knew what was at stake.
But Jesus was out looking for them. He looks and looks until he finds and when he does, he blesses them. “Peace be with you.” Jesus does not chastise or criticize. He does not condemn or scold or ridicule. He blesses them and according to John’s gospel, he breathes on them and inflates their lungs with his own breath and his own good love and sends them on their way.
Now, Thomas was not among them that night. We don’t know where he was or what he was doing but he was not there. When the other disciples tell him, “We have seen the Lord” Thomas does not believe it. Who can blame him?
We all know that Thomas has gotten a bad rap, don’t you think? He is the ultimate realist. He said, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.”
Oh how we are tempted to isolate Thomas. To set him aside as if he is somehow peculiar in this way. But I think Thomas represents all of us at times.
John’s gospel tells us that Thomas who was called the Twin – the other of whom we never hear about. Perhaps that is because Thomas’ twin is me. And you.
Earlier, when Jesus said mysteriously, “I go to prepare a place for you…You know the way to the place where I am going,” it was Thomas the pragmatist who relied truthfully, “Lord, we don’t know where you are going; how can we know the way?”[1]
And in another place, when Jesus speaks of going back to Judea, Thomas knows that for Jesus to return to Jerusalem is to go to his death. Thomas was no fool. He counted the costs before making a decision.[2] He had seen his teacher and friend crucified. He had fled and deserted not because he did not love Jesus but because the situation was dire. He had seen all of his hopes and expectations of the past three years die when his Lord died. How could he now be optimistic about the news of a risen Christ?
But a week later, Jesus appears again. He comes all the way back even through locked doors just for Thomas’ sake. Again, Jesus does not scold. Does not beat him up. Does not say, “Thomas, you bad disciple.”
Instead, Jesus says, Thomas you need to see these scars of mine? You need to see them? Come. Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach your hand right here. Put it in my side. Whatever you need, Thomas, that’s what I am willing to give to you so that you might see. And believe.
Thomas proclaims, “My Lord and my God!” Perhaps it was the sight of it – the nailed scarred wounds or the touch. Or maybe it was that Jesus was so generously willing to offer him grace beyond measure – that Thomas got it. He saw. He believed.
At best, that’s what we do in the church. We help one another see the presence of God in our lives and in the world. Because we are made of flesh, we don’t always get it right. Ask anybody, we have mistakes galore. But we keep working at it because we know that there is a power beyond ourselves.
The disciples locked themselves in because they were afraid. Locking themselves in is a powerful image. How do we lock ourselves in and refuse to get out of our own skins because we are too ashamed, too young, too old, too worried about what others think. Because we are too poor. Too rich. Too something. When we lock ourselves in we also lock the world out.
But Jesus wants to break in on us and break us out from behind our closed doors. Break us out and away from our fears and all the things and attitudes and ways that hold us back. And move us forward with resurrection hope and courage – trusting that the one who has overcome death and the grave will also help us overcome the dead places in our life and world.
Jesus comes to us and offers himself according to our needs. He does this over and over and over again with astonishing love and amazing grace. If only we could see…if only we could see.
Have You Seen Him?
Have You Seen Him?
By Rev. Cathy Gilliard
It was around 3 o’clock on Friday at a place called Golgotha. The final blow was levied and the last piercing sound uttered. His body was taken down by a secret disciple named Joseph of Arimathea and another man named Nicodemus. They wrapped his body in linen cloths as was the custom among the Jewish people.
They laid it in a new tomb that had been hewed out of a rock in a garden near the place where he had been crucified. The tomb was sealed with a stone – a large stone and guarded throughout the night and following days by Roman soldiers.
It was early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark that a woman named Mary from a small town called Magdala came to the tomb. You remember Mary, don’t you? The one out of whom Jesus cast seven demonic spirits?
Mark’s gospel tells us that there were also a hand full of other women who came with her: Mary the mother of James and Salome. They had been talking among themselves saying to one another “who will roll away the stone for us?”
Under threat of Roman guards and the very large stone; in the midst of their grief and sorrow; and the darkness of the hour, they came with their little jars of spices and perfumes to do one last thing for the one who had defied all laws and traditions on their behalf and had given them a sense of dignity, acceptance, and inclusion beyond compare.
When they arrived at the tomb, they discovered that the stone, which would have been one of their major obstacles had been rolled away.
In sheer panic, Mary ran to find the disciples and declared to them, “they have taken away my Lord and we do not know where they have laid him.”
Peter and John ran to find out what had happened and arrived at the tomb and upon looking inside all they found were the linen wrappings rolled up in a place by themselves but there was no body.
And so, they return to their homes - my guess in a state of wonder assuming that someone had stolen it. But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb. And in her despair she bent over and looked inside once more. There she saw two angels sitting where the body of Jesus had been lying.
She turned around and there is a figure. It must be the gardener or so she thought. But the person spoke and called her name: “Mary!” You can imagine, can’t you?
She has seen him killed and buried. She had seen the empty tomb. Now he speaks to her; calling her name and she responded, “Rabbouni!” Teacher. The Beloved.
Jesus said to her: Go and tell. Tell my brothers that I am going to my Father and your Father; I am going to my God and your God.
Mary Magdalene went and announce to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord!” Thus begins the celebration of Easter. Right there in that moment of recognition, knowing, and claiming, resurrection happened. There in the darkness; amid death and grief and fear. There in solitude; at best a friend or two to accompany you on the way – Easter happened.
Friends, we celebrate Easter Resurrection not as a historical moment in time but as a real and present reality. As Christ is raised so are we. This is the good news that we proclaim: I have seen him the Lord! I have seen him in the twists and turns of life. We sing glad songs and join the Hallelujah chorus with millions around the world.
New life and hope are bursting forth even in the midst of darkness. Can you see it? Not just today but every day. We are Easter people.
On the other side of the weariness of death, pain, loneliness, fear, life emerges. Even death cannot triumph over us through Christ! In him, we find vibrancy of life, and a sure foundation that fortifies us and allows us to stand up even in the midst of the worst dilemmas. It does not take us out of the circumstance but transforms it; and allows us to go through it.
In just a few moments, Christ, our risen Lord will stand as host around his table where he invites all of us to come. As you do so, we are going to offer you a wooden cross and a blessing. You might want to carry it around with you; put it in your pocket or your purse and keep it handy. Keep it someplace where you will come across it regularly. There’s no magic to it. It’s not a good luck charm. It does not offer any mystical protection on its own.
It is simply a reminder of this day. The price Christ paid for you and for me. A reminder to be thankful for your blessings day by day and the sense of resurrection that it happening around you.
May you receive this cross and a witness of our shared life and the hope of resurrection in this church and our own journeys. Christ is risen. Christ is risen indeed!