The Fifth Sunday of Easter - April 24

It Takes Others
John13:31-35

Throughout the Easter season, the Gospel readings are taken from John’s Gospel.  They come from different parts of the Gospel, different parts of Jesus’ life, but all teach us how to be Easter people.  How to live as followers of Christ in this time after his death and resurrection.

Today’s reading comes from near the end of Jesus’ life.  Jesus and his disciples are gathered at the last supper.  Judas has just left.  And, with that, those of us who know the story know that the final sequence of events leading up to Jesus’ crucifixion have inexorably begun.  The end is near.

We may assume that Jesus also knows that the time he has left with his disciples is short.  “Little children, I am with you only a little longer,” he says.

So the words of today’s Gospel are some of the last words he shares with his followers.  These are words to live by after I am gone.  This is what you should do as my disciples going forward.

Love one another as I have loved you. 

I think it’s easy, without giving it much thought, to assume that Jesus means: “be loving amongst yourselves.”  We imagine he is talking only about relationships between the disciples.

It seems much more likely he meant:  Love others, all sorts of others, in the same way I have loved you.

Love others as I have loved.  A very straightforward command.  Not so easy always to put into practice.

I’ve said it over and over and over.  In church, in this reading love is not a feeling.  Love is not a feeling of affection.  In fact, we don’t have a clue how Jesus felt most of the time.  The Scriptures don’t tell us.   When there is some allusion to how he might have felt, it isn’t “loving” or “affectionate,” it’ exasperated, tired, angry…

We don’t know how Jesus felt.  We do know what he did.  And his ministry was broad, not limited to the disciples.  Not limited even to the Jews.   His actions, his deeds, brought God’s presence and care and new life.  He acted to show care for people.

He touched outcasts.  Literally touched lepers, who were defined as unclean.  He sat down eat with tax collectors and prostitutes, people shunned by society.  He brought fellowship and healing.

He fed people who were hungry.  One of the stories of feeding the multitudes does say that Jesus felt compassion.  Not affection, but compassion.  He acted to meet their needs, to show God’s care, to feed people who were hungry.

His words and his actions forgave Peter.  Peter, whose personal denial of Jesus was profound.  Jesus rebuilt that relationship.

He taught reconciliation and forgiveness to anyone who would listen and many who wouldn’t.

He calmed storms.  I’ve always cherished the metaphorical, as well as the literal, aspect of that action.  Jesus brought calm and peace into situations that were full of storms or conflict.

Love others as I have loved you and them, Jesus says.

For a while earlier this week I was thinking about preaching on Earth Day.  Environmental stewardship is important to me.  Caring for God’s wonderful creation is something we are all called to do.  As I was thinking about it I was reminded how often I’ve heard people say:  I don’t need to go to church, I can find God by the seashore.  Or:  I don’t need to go to church, I can find God in the mountains, or in the forest or on the golf course.

I speak to you as someone who has found God in all of those places (except the golf course).  But Jesus reminds us today that being a disciple involves more than individually finding God, whether out in creation or here in church.  Love others, as I have loved you.  That takes others.

To follow Jesus’ command requires us to interact with others in ways that show care.

It means even more than being civil to fellow parishioners.  Although I certainly recommend that.  It means seeking out those people who need us to love them.  Seeking out the people we are called to care for in Jesus name!

The person at coffee hour who needs someone to listen.  Seek her out.

The widower in your neighborhood who is profoundly lonely.  Seek her out.

People who are hungry.  Seek them out.

I am more and more concerned about the many people who are victims of violence over which they have absolutely no control.  Victims of domestic violence.  Victims of political violence.  Victims of the gun violence that plagues Chicago streets.  How can I act to bring God’s life and care into these peoples’ lives?

It takes others for us to be disciples of Jesus.  Love others as I have loved you.  Seek out people who need our care.  That’s what it means to be Easter people today.

The Fourth Sunday of Easter - April 17

God's Power
John 10:22-30

Apparently factions formed among Jews who knew of Jesus and there was debate about whether or not he was the Messiah.  We might imagine that it had become a heated, partisan debate.

So they said to Jesus:  “How long will you keep us in suspense?  If you are the Messiah, tell us plainly.”

We also might imagine, that no matter what Jesus said, the partisan debate would go on.

Jesus, perhaps in some exasperation, said:  I have told you.  I have showed you.  “The works that I do in my Father’s name testify to me…”

Personally, I am not in suspense about whether or not Jesus is the Messiah whom the Jews of his day were expecting.  To a large degree the question has been answered.  Also, it isn’t a pressing question for me.  But that charged social/political atmosphere is the context for this portion of John’s Gospel.

This Fourth Sunday of Easter is unofficially called Good Shepherd Sunday.  On this Sunday we always pray the 23^rd psalm and we always have a reading from the tenth chapter of John.  John 10 is that extended discourse where Jesus describes himself as the Good Shepherd.

As familiar and cherished as this image is, there are complications and complexities.

A commentary on John’s Gospel, written specifically for those whose task it is to preach warms:  “In expounding the text, wariness is the homilest’s best posture” (Sloyan, Interpretation Commentary on John).

One issue is the political setting of this passage.  Jesus’ words were not offered as individual pastoral comfort.  (Not that they can’t serve that purpose today!)  The “Good Shepherd” is a leadership model offered specifically and only for the people in Jesus’ “flock.”

Belief is a central issue in this passage.  There are clearly people who do not believe that Jesus is the Messiah.  To them Jesus says:  “You do not believe because you do not belong to my sheep.”  This passage and others in John 10 raise the huge and long-debated question of divine election.  Does God determine or predetermine who will be saved?  Predestination versus the power of human beings to choose or secure their own salvation or favor with God.  Is access to God, through belief, only available to those whom God has already foreordained as “his sheep?”  In John 10 “the mystery of divine choice seems to be why some believe and some do not” (Sloyan).

Important as this issue is, I’m going to dodge it today.  John 10 presents divine election as a given.  For us, it is a broader question and worthy of a more thorough discussion at another time.

This same commentary, speaking to us today says, “All we can say from this passage with certitude is that deity is far more powerful than humanity.”  And we could add that that power is life-giving for us.  God’s power is far greater than anything we can muster, individually or as a group.

Do you believe that?  Really?  I think this is a much more relevant and important question of belief than whether or not Jesus is the Messiah.  Do you believe that God’s power is far greater than ours?  Do you order your life based on that belief?  We probably all think we “should” believe this. We “want to.”  But do you really believe that deity is far more powerful than humanity?

It is a glorious truth for people who have known or who need the saving power of God’s love.  It’s really bad news for people who like to be in charge.  Which are you?  Today?

This sort of belief is not so much a choice of the mind, a reasoned decision.  It comes from experience.  Knowing, seeing, experiencing God’s power is the source of belief.  To believe in the power of deity, the power of God, isn’t gained by anything Jesus could have said then or might say today.  But his works, then and now, testify to that power.

So if you seek belief, seek experience.  Seek experience of God’s power.

The power of life overcoming death, as we heard in today’s reading from Acts.  Certainly a power greater than humanity’s.

God’s power to generate hope and new life in the midst of despair, when no human power could succeed.

The power of recovery overcoming addiction when all human power had failed.

The power to create peace where there had been only conflict in settings where human efforts at peace had not and could not succeed.

The power of reconciliation to heal estrangement beyond all human imagining.

Have you seen or experienced God’s power at work in the world?  In other people?  A power greater than human power?  Look for it. 

Have you let God’s power into your life?  It only takes the tiniest crack.

It is a life-giving power.  So strong that for those in its power, nothing can snatch them away from the life and love of God.  Nothing.

The Third Sunday of Easter - April 10

Charcoal Fires
John 21:1-19

This morning’s Gospel reading comes from near the end of John’s Gospel. We read John throughout the Easter season. You may remember that we also read John on Good Friday. The lectionary appoints John’s version of the Passion story for Good Friday.

I want to remind you of part of that reading:

Simon Peter and another disciple followed Jesus…. The woman said to Peter, ‘You are not also one of this man’s disciples, are you?’ He said, ‘I am not.’ Now the slaves and the police had made a charcoal fire because it was cold, and they were standing round it and warming themselves. Peter also was standing with them and warming himself. 

A few verses later Peter is still standing by the fire…

...warming himself. They asked him, ‘You are not also one of his disciples, are you?’ He denied it and said, ‘I am not.’ One of the slaves of the high priest, a relative of the man whose ear Peter had cut off, asked, ‘Did I not see you in the garden with him?’ Again Peter denied it, and at that moment the cock crowed (John 18:15-18, 25-27).

Did you catch this one detail from this morning’s reading? The disciples have seen the Lord and when they had gone ashore, “they saw a charcoal fire there” (John 21:9).

How have I missed the charcoal fire all these years? Peter again being questioned next to a charcoal fire.

Jesus said to Simon Peter,

"Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?" He said to him, "Yes, Lord; you know that I love you." Jesus said to him, "Feed my lambs." A second time he said to him, "Simon son of John, do you love me?" He said to him, "Yes, Lord; you know that I love you." Jesus said to him, "Tend my sheep." He said to him the third time, "Simon son of John, do you love me?" Peter felt hurt because he said to him the third time, "Do you love me?" And he said to him, "Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you." Jesus said to him, "Feed my sheep (John 21:15-17). 

The parallel between these two scenes is powerful and intentional. There’s no particular significance to the charcoal fire except to cement the parallelism between these two passages. We are definitely meant to remember Peter’s three denials as we listen to his three affirmations of love.

The third time Jesus asks Peter if he loves him, Peter is a bit annoyed. And he says, Lord you know that I love you, you know everything. We might wonder if Jesus was tempted to say: Yes, Peter, I do know everything. And I remember exactly what you said the last time you were standing next to a charcoal fire. I wasn’t there, but I do know everything, and I know what you said. So, are you sure that you love me?

Many people who have read and studied this passage have observed that in this encounter, Jesus isn’t just being a pest when he probes Peter over and over and over again—three times. He’s actually reassuring Peter. And Jesus is giving Peter the chance to be just as emphatic in his expression of love as he was in his denial. What’s really happening here is Jesus is saying, Peter I love you. Over and over and over again. Peter I love you. I know what you did. I do know everything. I know exactly what you said and did by that first charcoal fire. And I still love you. And I’m giving you the chance to put right what you did… To replace each of your denials with an expression of love.

Even the depth of your denial, Peter, cannot estrange you from me. I love you and I will always welcome, always invite, your renewed love in return. No matter what you’ve done or said in the past. I will always come back to you and say: I love you still, do you love me?

Easter is not just about life renewed after death. It’s about love renewed. It’s about the restoration and renewal of love between Peter and Jesus, between each of us and Jesus.

Thinking about charcoal fires brought to mind the Easter Vigil. Pretty much every Episcopal clergy person I know will tell you that the Easter Vigil is their favorite service of any throughout the year. It’s the most powerful, the most meaningful, the most spiritual. If you weren’t there, you’ve missed it this year, but come sometime if you never have.

It begins gathered around a charcoal fire. We gather in the dark out in front of the outdoor altar. We gather around a fire, called “the new fire.” It is a new fire, kindled just for this Easter. And we say these prayers:

Dear friends in Christ: On this most holy night, in which our Lord Jesus passed over from death to life, the Church invites her members, dispersed throughout the world, to gather in vigil and prayer. For this is the Passover of the Lord, in which, by hearing his Word and celebrating his Sacraments, we share in his victory over death. 

Then we bless the new fire.

O God, through your Son you have bestowed upon your people the brightness of your light: Sanctify this new fire, and grant that in this Paschal feast we may so burn with heavenly desires, that with pure minds we may attain to the festival of everlasting light; through Jesus Christ our Lord. 

That’s cool enough, but that’s just the beginning. Then we light this candle, the Paschal candle, from that new fire. The Light of Christ. Lighting individual candles, we spread the Light of Christ among ourselves and carry it into the darkened church.

The Paschal Candle obviously isn’t a charcoal fire, but we do gather around it. One of the times we gather around this holy flame is for baptisms. When God says to the newly baptized: You are sealed by the Holy Spirit in baptism and marked as Christ’s own forever. The Prayer Book reminds us that the bond which God establishes in baptism is indissoluble.

No matter what we may say or do in our lives. No matter how often we may deny Christ or how far we may stray, Jesus will always be right with us, waiting and eager to say to us what he said to Peter. You are mine. Forever. I love you. I still love you. Do you love me?

The Second Sunday of Easter - April 3

Help Our Unbelief

John 20:19-31

The church is still full to the brim with flowers.  The aroma of lilies is everywhere. Outside, spring daffodils are still blooming, although after yesterday, they are a little chilly.  We are still very much right in the midst of Easter.  Our celebration of Easter last Sunday is still vibrant all around us.

The reading from John’s Gospel that we heard this morning begins later the very day of the first Easter.  Some of Jesus’ disciples have seen the empty tomb.  Mary has seen Jesus!  Alive.  Risen from the dead.  The joy and awe and wonder of the resurrection are right there.

And then, barely a moment later, fear and doubt have begun to sneak in.  There was barely a moment of Easter joy before the disciples began to experience fear and doubt.

In this reading, the focus is on “doubting” Thomas, but the fact that the other disciples were cowering in fear behind locked doors suggests to me that they weren’t terribly secure in their faith, either.

Along with joy and hope comes fear.  Yearning and awe go hand in hand with doubt.

We always read this Gospel on the Second Sunday of Easter, the day that, for us, at least in terms of our worship life together, represents the next moment after Easter.  We hear about the disciples’ fear and doubt.  The potent and powerful message of today is that, historically speaking, there has never been “pure” Easter faith without fear and uncertainty and doubt.  I say that to be reassuring.  Even back among the people who knew Jesus best, who had seen him risen from the dead, fear and doubt followed the resurrection virtually immediately.

So we shouldn’t feel guilty or ashamed of our own uncertainties and doubts.  We don’t need to deny or hide our fears or our questions.  In fact, I and many others would say that a living faith is always seeking, always questioning…  that the doubts and uncertainties that are a part of most, if not all, of our lives of faith are actually blessings.  Opportunities for our faith to deepen and grow.  Regardless, we should not feel guilty or ashamed of uncertainty and doubt. 

I think I’ve shared this prayer with you before, some time ago.  It’s written as a poem.  I know nothing about the author except his name:  Bernard, SSF.   SSF would be Society of St. Francis.  So he is a Franciscan monk, someone who has faithfully chosen to follow Christ as a Franciscan.  I know the prayer from an anthology of prayers I have (The Oxford Book of Prayer, ed. George Appleton).

Lord, I want to love you, yet I’m not sure.

            I want to trust you, yet I’m afraid of being taken in.

            I know I need you, yet I’m ashamed of the need.

            I want to pray, yet I’m afraid of being a hypocrite.

            I want to belong, yet I must be myself.

            Take me, Lord, yet leave me alone.

            Lord, I believe, help thou my unbelief.

O Lord, if you are there, you do understand, don’t you?

Give me what I need but leave me free to choose.

Help me work it out my own way, but don’t let me go.

Let me understand myself, but don’t let me despair.

            Come unto me, O Lord—I want you there.

            Lighten my darkness—but don’t dazzle me.

            Help me to see what I need to do and give me strength to do it.

O Lord, I believe; help thou my unbelief.

The phrase “Lord, I believe, help thou my unbelief,” comes to us, of course, out of the Gospels.  In the ninth chapter of Mark when a father is seeking healing for his son and cries out to Jesus, “I believe.  Help my unbelief!”

I think perhaps Thomas’ most admirable quality and the one we should seek to emulate, is his openness and honesty.  Thomas doesn’t hide his doubts and just go along with the disciples.  He doesn’t pretend a certainty he doesn’t feel.  He is open and honest with the other disciples, and, ultimately with Jesus.  In that, he is a model for us.

Be open and honest about your fears and uncertainties and doubts.  Be open and honest with God.  Like Thomas (and the poet monk).  Don’t ever think you have to have a perfect faith before you can talk to God.  Don’t for a moment think that you have to have a perfect faith before God will listen to you.

Bring your fears and uncertainties to God.  Like Thomas, demand an answer.  After all, it is Christ alone who can strengthen our faith, who can lead us into deeper understanding.

Remember, it was into the very midst of the disciples’ fear and doubt that Jesus came.  Into our fear and doubt Jesus brings his presence and his peace.