This sermon was heard at the First Presbyterian Church in Berryville, Arkansas on Sunday April 25, 2010, the 4th Sunday in Easter.
Acts 9:36-43
Psalm 23
Revelation 7:9-17
John 10:22-30
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen.
This morning, we begin with our reading from Acts. The last time we saw Peter he was in Jerusalem with the other apostles. They had been imprisoned and flogged for teaching and healing at the temple in the name of the Risen Lord Jesus Christ. Since this time, Peter had made his way to the city of Lydda, not far from the modern city of Tel Aviv.
Two men were sent from Joppa, the modern port city of Joffa, to Lydda, a distance of about ten miles. They were sent to find Peter and tell him to come with them without delay. Scripture is silent about whether Peter knew what was happening or not. It is easy to assume that he did not considering the reported conversation. But when you consider the social norms, sending two men instead of a messenger with a note, along with the request that he come without delay, Peter would have naturally assumed it was urgent. Surely along the journey, we can assume the two men would not have kept Peter in the dark.
When he arrives, he doesn’t see Tabitha, first he sees widows showing the clothes that she had made for them. In fact, the verb from the Greek implies that they were wearing the clothes she had made.[1] They were not showing the clothes on mannequins or hangers like in a department store display. They were standing and showing how Tabitha lived her faith giving generously to support the widows, some of the weakest people in the society. Peter then puts everyone out of the room and prays. If this looks familiar it’s because it is. Jesus did this same thing in Luke 7; and since Luke and Acts were written by the same author, the similarity is not a coincidence.
Peter finally, simply prays, “Tabitha, get up.” Then she opened her eyes and he helped her up. Peter then called to the saints and the widows to come and see what the Lord had done. This vignette ends with the proclamation, “this became known throughout Joppa, and many believed in the Lord.”
They had seen the glory of God. They shared so that it may be known, and now many more believed in the Lord. Only Peter and Tabitha experienced the miracle first hand. Only a handful of people saw the immediate results of this miracle. There were many more who came to know in the hours and days that followed when Tabitha was again in the market and in the local meeting. And of course all of Joppa knew what had happened to Tabitha when the widow network spread the news at the Senior Center.
Now that she had been brought back to life, now that she had been restored to the community, this word spread too. And in a society where the main source of news is word of mouth, you know that just as soon as the word left the house, it reached all the ships in the harbor and spread across the Mediterranean. The only difference between now and then is that now we say, “It’s true, I saw it on the news,” or “I read it on the internet.”
I started with this story from Acts to illustrate the point Jesus was making to the Pharisees, the people Jesus referred to as “the Jews” in this passage.[2] In Acts, we learn that many people believed after experiencing what happened with Peter and Tabitha. It wasn’t that they saw what happened; only Peter and Tabitha were in the room. It wasn’t that they were in the house, there were at least two men and a bunch of widows in the house, but that’s nothing compared with the population of a port city. Yet we learn that many believed because of this miracle. By hearing, many believed in Jesus because of the power of this miracle.
Our gospel reading begins with the Pharisees gathering around him and asking him, “How long will you keep us in suspense? If you are the Messiah, tell us plainly.” They want Jesus to tell them who he is in words they can understand. What’s funny is that Jesus has used the words of the Law and the Prophets. The words the Pharisees know. He has told the world who he is in ways the Pharisees were better equipped to understand than anybody else on earth; and they didn’t get it.
Even more than the words that he used, Jesus used an even more explicit way of telling the Pharisees and the world who he was. Jesus told them that he is the long awaited Messiah through his actions, along with his words.[3] It isn’t that words aren’t useful, but so far Jesus has shown the world who he is through actions more than words. On a deeper level, this points out that the fullness of faith in Jesus the Messiah is not something that can be boiled down to words alone. The fullness of the gospel cannot simply be reduced to a creed, it must be experienced.
Jesus answers the Pharisees, “I have told you, and you do not believe. The works that I do in my Father’s name testify to me; but you do not believe.” Jesus tells these Pharisees, as he has told the world, that he is the long awaited Messiah, they just didn’t get it.
Jesus tells the Pharisees “The works that I do in my Father’s name testify to me.” He provides the finest wine for the wedding banquet in Cana[4] and feeds the five thousand.[5] He heals the son of the royal official[6] and the beggar at the pool of Siloam.[7] Jesus feeds the people and heals the sick. Knowing the Law and the Prophets, the Pharisees should have been able to see that Jesus is the Messiah, but they didn’t get it.
This is where the use of the good shepherd becomes useful again. In the preceding verses from this chapter, Jesus tells all who were present, including the Pharisees, “I am the Good Shepherd” who keeps his sheep.[8]
He says “I am the gate” and the only way to enter is through him. Being the gate is more than a metaphor. The pens used at this time were little more than earthen circles with bramble around the tops of them. There was no gate on these pens, so the shepherd would stand in the gate mouth, between the sheep and the wilds and terrors of the world. For a predator to enter, it would have to go through the shepherd who would guard the pen with his life.
We celebrated this ultimate guarding a mere four weeks ago on Easter Sunday. The sheep who know him and know his voice have a place with Jesus, but the predators who would take the sheep do not.
Two weeks ago, I spoke about making our faith real. I said:
These first Christian disciples, these who become the first apostles sent into the world, are the first graduating class of the church. These Christians are given their commission, they are sent to do something. Far more valuable than an Ivy League sheepskin, they are then equipped with the one thing that enables them to do anything; the breath, the Holy Spirit of God.
They will not be able to present Christ to the world in the same way Christ presented himself to them. Christ presented himself physically, bodily to them; this option is no longer available. Instead they, and we, we represent Christ to the world. It is important for us that we represent Christ in the world. It is we who are now Christ’s body in the world. By the word of God, through the power of the Holy Spirit, we are able to show the grace and peace of God to the world.
In a world that insists on touching a wall that is covered with signs that say “wet paint,” it is up to us to paint the world in ways that people will reach out and touch. This is how we make our faith real for ourselves and for others, by representing Christ’s love and forgiveness in the world. In Christ’s grace and peace through the power of the Holy Spirit, our witness makes Christ real to the rest of the world.
Peter and Tabitha shared one of God’s miracles together, and then with the people in her house, then with the city of Joppa, and then with the world. This miracle has been shared across time and space. This miracle has been shared from generation to generation. I don’t know if any miracle you have experienced is as grand as this, as for me, no. Still there are miracles in our lives that happen every day; some as small as a smile from a loved one, others as grand as divine intervention. These do not spark our faith as much as they kindle the spark of faith in our lives. Miracles don’t start our faith, they help reinforce it.
In Christ’s grace and peace through the power of the Holy Spirit, we are saved by faith through grace. This is important for us to remember, that our faith is not a product of what we do. The development of our faith is based upon God’s actions in Jesus Christ through the power of the Holy Spirit.[9] While I said two weeks ago that it is up to us to share our faith, I failed to say that our faith must also be real to us. I don’t say this to tell you that if you never had a mountain top experience you have the worthless faith of the Pharisee. No, I only say this to say that this is not true; we are saved by grace through faith. We are saved by the work of Jesus Christ, not by anything we do.
What I do say is that it is up to us, as sheep of the fold, to listen for the voice of the shepherd. We are promised that as the sheep we recognize the voice of the Good Shepherd. It is when we listen that we hear and it is when we hear that we recognize. Then are we able to share by botrh deed and word. So let us listen. Let us rest in the outstretched arms of the loving God. Let us then follow and be sent and share God’s loving kindness with the world.
[1] Harvard, Joseph S., Wall, Robert W. Feasting on the Word, Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009, pages 426-431.
[2] Excursus from The New Interpreters’ Study Bible, “I am” sayings
[3] Jones, Gary D., Donelson, Lewis R. Feasting on the Word, Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009, pages 444-449.
[4] John 2:1-12
[5] John 6:1-15
[6] John 4:43-54
[7] John 9:1-12
[8] John 10:7-14
[9] Ibid, Donelson
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Brand New Day
This sermon was heard on April 18, 2010, the 3rd Sunday in Ordinary Time.
Acts 9:1-6
Psalm 30
Revelation 5:11-14
John 21:1-19
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen
I read this on the internet on Monday, so you know it must be true, “A bank robber in Minneapolis told arresting police officers that he had been converted at a Billy Graham Crusade and that is why he didn't use a weapon during the holdup.”[1] Yep, must be true. This is one of those situations where the conversion to the gospel doesn’t quite lead to the transformation we would expect to follow. Close, but no cigar.
As much as anyone else, I love the mountaintop experience; those times when we are so close to God that we can feel it. I love those times when there is such a spirit moving in the air that the room is positively electric, and who doesn’t? They happen at retreats after hearing a particularly stirring speaker. They happen here in the sanctuary during a glorious rendering of an anthem by the choir. They also happen during prayer, during those quiet moments when we await the response of the Lord and we can positively hear the Word of God being spoken to us. The mountaintop experience is filled with glory and wonder and joy.
The worst thing about the mountaintop experience is what comes next, the inevitable valley descent. It is impossible for us to live on the mountaintop; the air is just too thin. There must be valleys to go along with the peaks; it’s just the nature of being.
Let’s imagine what the disciples have just experienced, it’s not so difficult since we have just made this journey ourselves through Lent and Holy Week. Imagine the time spent with our Lord, hearing his teaching and witnessing his miracles. Remember the ways we have seen him evade the best laid traps of the Sadducees and Pharisees. See the joy on the faces of those he has healed; see how the masses have been restored to their health, their families, and their communities.
Recall Palm Sunday, the triumphant entry into Jerusalem, not on a warhorse like a Roman overlord, but on the back of a colt as prophesied in the scriptures. Palms and the coats being set before him, every thing is made ready just as he said. The upper room is ready and they take their final meal together. Jesus breaks the bread and tells them “Take, eat. This is my body given for you.” He then blesses the cup and tells them, “This cup is the new covenant sealed in my blood, shed for you for the forgiveness of sins.” He then instructs them that whenever they share this meal it should be shared in remembrance of him.
The situation then falls apart from glorious to terrifying with a kiss. Jesus is swept away and the disciples scatter. Only Peter will remain close, and then only close enough to hear the prophesy of his betrayal of Jesus come to pass as the cock crows. The celebration of the meal is quickly followed by the horror of the crucifixion. Then the horror of the crucifixion is quickly followed by resurrection of the Lord Jesus the Christ. The promises of the coming counselor are fulfilled and the breath of his Holy Spirit comes upon them to commission and empower them to continue his work on earth.
Mountaintop experience? Even with the horror of the Lord’s death, it doesn’t get more glorious than this.
Our gospel reading today comes from sometime after these events. Scripture doesn’t say whether this event happens immediately after what we read last week or some time later. This epilogue begins with the disciples, in essence, hanging around the house. This scene seems so subdued to me. Everyone is listless and lethargic. They seem resolved that life may end up going back to the same-old-same-old. They know that their lives will never be the same, but they don’t quite know what to do with that.
Peter is the one who breaks the silence. He says, “Well boys, I’m goin’ to work.” The others, including James and John who are his partners in the fishing business say, “Well, we’ll go too.”
Evening is breaking and it’s time to get the boats out on the Sea of Tiberias, what we usually call the Sea of Galilee. It’s not a terribly big sea, it’s not so big that you can’t walk around it; but it’s set just so that when the wind blows off of the Mediterranean and across the plains that tremendously dangerous storms can come seemingly out of nowhere and hit the sea with horrendous consequences. As I recall you have some familiarity with that sort of thing here.
It’s dark, it’s dangerous, and they’re distracted. They may be flirting with disaster, but they’ve got to do something. Sitting around the house just won’t cut it another minute.
The evening was uneventful, too uneventful. They weren’t able to catch a cold out there.
Then there is a voice from the shore, “Children, have you caught anything?” You know, it’s one thing to work all night long and get nothing for your effort, but it’s another to be called “children.” This guy on shore calls seven grown men prepubescent. On the bright side, the term is one of affection.[2] It is a term Matthew’s gospel uses to describe those who will get into the kingdom of heaven,[3] and that’s not all bad. Jesus blesses the little children saying the kingdom of heaven belongs to those who are like them.[4] When considering what the Lord says of little children, the man on the shore could surely call them something worse.
So when they answer his question, the man on the shore suggests they cast their nets to the other side of the boat. Can’t you just hear someone asking, “Wow, we could have cast from the other side of the boat? Why didn’t we think of that?” The disciples may have had sarcasm but they didn’t have objections when they cast their nets to the other side of the boat. There they are rewarded with a catch of many fish. Then and only then does the disciple Jesus loved recognize the Lord.
Jesus calls to Simon Peter, Simon Peter whom Jesus called the rock of the church. Simon Peter to whom Jesus cries “Satan, get behind me.” Simon Peter whom Jesus said would deny him. Jesus calls to Simon and asks “Do you love me more than these?” Simon responds, “Yes Lord; you know that I love you.” Jesus commissions him, “Feed my lambs.”
Jesus then repeats this question. “Do you love me?” Simon again responds, “Yes Lord; you know that I love you.” Jesus commissions him, “Tend my sheep.”
Jesus repeats this question one more time, “Do you love me?” By now it’s like hearing that old knock-knock joke and Simon is hoping to hear Jesus finally say, “Orange you glad I didn’t say banana again?” Simon is upset. He is angry, offended, and insulted. He is saddened, grieved, and distressed[5] that his Lord, Jesus the Christ would feel like he had to ask him three times if he loved him.
“Surely Lord you know everything,” he says, “you know that I love you.” Simon Peter then gets his commission. He receives his mission. He is given his marching orders. He is told by his Lord and Messiah one more time, “Feed my sheep.” But that’s not all.
Jesus warns Peter about the death he will face. He is told that he will face the most horrible, painful, disgraceful death the empire has learned to inflict against its enemies. His arms will be stretched out on the cross. He will be hung from a tree. Jesus even reminds Peter he will not wish to go. He won’t deny Jesus, but he won’t volunteer for this death either.
Then Jesus tells Peter, “Follow me.”
Follow me. When Jesus says this, scholars say he is telling Peter to follow him on the cross. I can’t disagree with years of scholarship, but I believe the Lord is asking more of Peter than just to die. I think, I hope, and I pray Jesus is telling Peter how to live. Jesus is showing Peter that he must be transformed to life in Christ.
Transformation in Christ and the way transformation takes a hold of us is no more poignant than we find in the story of Saul’s conversion found in Acts. Transformation is often a slow and painstaking process, but for Saul, not so much. His story of transformation is the stuff of biblical proportions.
Saul’s life was good. A member of the tribe of Benjamin, he was a Roman citizen by birth and a Pharisee by training. He was the guest of honor at the stoning of Stephen. He had it all, including letters allowing him to bring anyone who belonged to the Way from Damascus bound to Jerusalem.
It’s all going according to plan until he is blinded by the light from heaven. He fell to the ground and heard a voice saying to him, “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?” Asking who is speaking, the reply came, “I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting.” What strikes me about this is that Saul knew this much, he knew he was persecuting those who followed Jesus. He knew that. But now, now he learns that the one he persecutes is the one who is worthy of worship.
We have to remember, Saul was doing all the right religious things. He was a righteous man. By the reckoning of scripture, there was no man who was more in tune with the law than Saul of Tarsus, but being righteous in the law is not enough. As important as the law is, and it is important, there is more. In this moment, Saul discovered that following the law was not enough, without the Messiah, without Jesus, it is not enough.
The story continues; Saul, blinded, goes to the home of Judas and is met by a follower of the Way named Ananias. Ananias was sent as an emissary of Christ because in the words of the Lord, “[Saul] is an instrument whom I have chosen to bring my name before Gentiles and kings and before the people of Israel.”
It was at this moment that his life changed, his transformation from oppressor to apostle is begun.
The wondrous love of our Lord calls Saul to take the gospel to the gentiles and kings and before the people of Israel. The wondrous love of our Lord calls Peter to build the church; the church which is to be—and is still today—Christ’s body on earth. The church has always been the people of God, and not some structure. Buildings rot, decay and are forgotten, but as the people of God we still speak and act as the body of Christ today.
From the Psalms of David, to the Gospel of John, to the Acts of the Apostles; theirs are the words we speak when we share the Word of God. Through our tithes and offerings, we share the Word of God. Through mission, whether it’s a soup kitchen or with Presbyterian Disaster Relief in the Gulf Coast or in Haiti; whether it’s helping our neighbors after a storm or helping a child with homework; we share the word of God. When we share the word, we feed his lambs. We tend his sheep. We truly become God’s people when we remember the people God calls us to be and act in obedience.
We are called to follow Jesus in the work he commissions us to continue. We are sent by Jesus to feed his lambs and tend his sheep. What’s wondrous is that the word disciple comes from a noun meaning follower. The word apostle comes from a verb meaning to send. In this passage, Peter is called to be both a disciple and an apostle. As Christ’s body in the world, we are called to continue this work as both disciples and apostles. As the Body of Christ, through the power of the Holy Spirit, we are continuously transformed into both disciples and apostles. We follow Jesus and we are sent to take his work into the world.
We remember that like Simon Peter, on this brand new day we are called to follow the Lord and we are sent to be God’s reconciling people to the world. On this brand new day we are called by our Lord to serve creation healing the wounds that separate us from God and from one another. On this brand new day we are given the gift of the Holy Spirit, God who walks beside us and guides us as we do God’s will in the world. And on this brand new day, saved by grace through faith, we are transformed into the Body of Christ.
[1] HomileticsOnline.com Illustration Keyword Search—Transformation. http://homileticsonline.com/subscriber/illustration_search.asp?keywords=transformation, retrieved April 12, 2010.
[2] “padia” entry from the electronic edition of Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature, Third Edition. Copyright © 2000 The University of Chicago Press. Revised and edited by Frederick William Danker, sixth edition.
[3] Matthew 18:3
[4] Matthew 19:14, Mark 10:14, Luke 18:16
[5] “lupeow” entry from the electronic edition of Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament.
Acts 9:1-6
Psalm 30
Revelation 5:11-14
John 21:1-19
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen
I read this on the internet on Monday, so you know it must be true, “A bank robber in Minneapolis told arresting police officers that he had been converted at a Billy Graham Crusade and that is why he didn't use a weapon during the holdup.”[1] Yep, must be true. This is one of those situations where the conversion to the gospel doesn’t quite lead to the transformation we would expect to follow. Close, but no cigar.
As much as anyone else, I love the mountaintop experience; those times when we are so close to God that we can feel it. I love those times when there is such a spirit moving in the air that the room is positively electric, and who doesn’t? They happen at retreats after hearing a particularly stirring speaker. They happen here in the sanctuary during a glorious rendering of an anthem by the choir. They also happen during prayer, during those quiet moments when we await the response of the Lord and we can positively hear the Word of God being spoken to us. The mountaintop experience is filled with glory and wonder and joy.
The worst thing about the mountaintop experience is what comes next, the inevitable valley descent. It is impossible for us to live on the mountaintop; the air is just too thin. There must be valleys to go along with the peaks; it’s just the nature of being.
Let’s imagine what the disciples have just experienced, it’s not so difficult since we have just made this journey ourselves through Lent and Holy Week. Imagine the time spent with our Lord, hearing his teaching and witnessing his miracles. Remember the ways we have seen him evade the best laid traps of the Sadducees and Pharisees. See the joy on the faces of those he has healed; see how the masses have been restored to their health, their families, and their communities.
Recall Palm Sunday, the triumphant entry into Jerusalem, not on a warhorse like a Roman overlord, but on the back of a colt as prophesied in the scriptures. Palms and the coats being set before him, every thing is made ready just as he said. The upper room is ready and they take their final meal together. Jesus breaks the bread and tells them “Take, eat. This is my body given for you.” He then blesses the cup and tells them, “This cup is the new covenant sealed in my blood, shed for you for the forgiveness of sins.” He then instructs them that whenever they share this meal it should be shared in remembrance of him.
The situation then falls apart from glorious to terrifying with a kiss. Jesus is swept away and the disciples scatter. Only Peter will remain close, and then only close enough to hear the prophesy of his betrayal of Jesus come to pass as the cock crows. The celebration of the meal is quickly followed by the horror of the crucifixion. Then the horror of the crucifixion is quickly followed by resurrection of the Lord Jesus the Christ. The promises of the coming counselor are fulfilled and the breath of his Holy Spirit comes upon them to commission and empower them to continue his work on earth.
Mountaintop experience? Even with the horror of the Lord’s death, it doesn’t get more glorious than this.
Our gospel reading today comes from sometime after these events. Scripture doesn’t say whether this event happens immediately after what we read last week or some time later. This epilogue begins with the disciples, in essence, hanging around the house. This scene seems so subdued to me. Everyone is listless and lethargic. They seem resolved that life may end up going back to the same-old-same-old. They know that their lives will never be the same, but they don’t quite know what to do with that.
Peter is the one who breaks the silence. He says, “Well boys, I’m goin’ to work.” The others, including James and John who are his partners in the fishing business say, “Well, we’ll go too.”
Evening is breaking and it’s time to get the boats out on the Sea of Tiberias, what we usually call the Sea of Galilee. It’s not a terribly big sea, it’s not so big that you can’t walk around it; but it’s set just so that when the wind blows off of the Mediterranean and across the plains that tremendously dangerous storms can come seemingly out of nowhere and hit the sea with horrendous consequences. As I recall you have some familiarity with that sort of thing here.
It’s dark, it’s dangerous, and they’re distracted. They may be flirting with disaster, but they’ve got to do something. Sitting around the house just won’t cut it another minute.
The evening was uneventful, too uneventful. They weren’t able to catch a cold out there.
Then there is a voice from the shore, “Children, have you caught anything?” You know, it’s one thing to work all night long and get nothing for your effort, but it’s another to be called “children.” This guy on shore calls seven grown men prepubescent. On the bright side, the term is one of affection.[2] It is a term Matthew’s gospel uses to describe those who will get into the kingdom of heaven,[3] and that’s not all bad. Jesus blesses the little children saying the kingdom of heaven belongs to those who are like them.[4] When considering what the Lord says of little children, the man on the shore could surely call them something worse.
So when they answer his question, the man on the shore suggests they cast their nets to the other side of the boat. Can’t you just hear someone asking, “Wow, we could have cast from the other side of the boat? Why didn’t we think of that?” The disciples may have had sarcasm but they didn’t have objections when they cast their nets to the other side of the boat. There they are rewarded with a catch of many fish. Then and only then does the disciple Jesus loved recognize the Lord.
Jesus calls to Simon Peter, Simon Peter whom Jesus called the rock of the church. Simon Peter to whom Jesus cries “Satan, get behind me.” Simon Peter whom Jesus said would deny him. Jesus calls to Simon and asks “Do you love me more than these?” Simon responds, “Yes Lord; you know that I love you.” Jesus commissions him, “Feed my lambs.”
Jesus then repeats this question. “Do you love me?” Simon again responds, “Yes Lord; you know that I love you.” Jesus commissions him, “Tend my sheep.”
Jesus repeats this question one more time, “Do you love me?” By now it’s like hearing that old knock-knock joke and Simon is hoping to hear Jesus finally say, “Orange you glad I didn’t say banana again?” Simon is upset. He is angry, offended, and insulted. He is saddened, grieved, and distressed[5] that his Lord, Jesus the Christ would feel like he had to ask him three times if he loved him.
“Surely Lord you know everything,” he says, “you know that I love you.” Simon Peter then gets his commission. He receives his mission. He is given his marching orders. He is told by his Lord and Messiah one more time, “Feed my sheep.” But that’s not all.
Jesus warns Peter about the death he will face. He is told that he will face the most horrible, painful, disgraceful death the empire has learned to inflict against its enemies. His arms will be stretched out on the cross. He will be hung from a tree. Jesus even reminds Peter he will not wish to go. He won’t deny Jesus, but he won’t volunteer for this death either.
Then Jesus tells Peter, “Follow me.”
Follow me. When Jesus says this, scholars say he is telling Peter to follow him on the cross. I can’t disagree with years of scholarship, but I believe the Lord is asking more of Peter than just to die. I think, I hope, and I pray Jesus is telling Peter how to live. Jesus is showing Peter that he must be transformed to life in Christ.
Transformation in Christ and the way transformation takes a hold of us is no more poignant than we find in the story of Saul’s conversion found in Acts. Transformation is often a slow and painstaking process, but for Saul, not so much. His story of transformation is the stuff of biblical proportions.
Saul’s life was good. A member of the tribe of Benjamin, he was a Roman citizen by birth and a Pharisee by training. He was the guest of honor at the stoning of Stephen. He had it all, including letters allowing him to bring anyone who belonged to the Way from Damascus bound to Jerusalem.
It’s all going according to plan until he is blinded by the light from heaven. He fell to the ground and heard a voice saying to him, “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?” Asking who is speaking, the reply came, “I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting.” What strikes me about this is that Saul knew this much, he knew he was persecuting those who followed Jesus. He knew that. But now, now he learns that the one he persecutes is the one who is worthy of worship.
We have to remember, Saul was doing all the right religious things. He was a righteous man. By the reckoning of scripture, there was no man who was more in tune with the law than Saul of Tarsus, but being righteous in the law is not enough. As important as the law is, and it is important, there is more. In this moment, Saul discovered that following the law was not enough, without the Messiah, without Jesus, it is not enough.
The story continues; Saul, blinded, goes to the home of Judas and is met by a follower of the Way named Ananias. Ananias was sent as an emissary of Christ because in the words of the Lord, “[Saul] is an instrument whom I have chosen to bring my name before Gentiles and kings and before the people of Israel.”
It was at this moment that his life changed, his transformation from oppressor to apostle is begun.
The wondrous love of our Lord calls Saul to take the gospel to the gentiles and kings and before the people of Israel. The wondrous love of our Lord calls Peter to build the church; the church which is to be—and is still today—Christ’s body on earth. The church has always been the people of God, and not some structure. Buildings rot, decay and are forgotten, but as the people of God we still speak and act as the body of Christ today.
From the Psalms of David, to the Gospel of John, to the Acts of the Apostles; theirs are the words we speak when we share the Word of God. Through our tithes and offerings, we share the Word of God. Through mission, whether it’s a soup kitchen or with Presbyterian Disaster Relief in the Gulf Coast or in Haiti; whether it’s helping our neighbors after a storm or helping a child with homework; we share the word of God. When we share the word, we feed his lambs. We tend his sheep. We truly become God’s people when we remember the people God calls us to be and act in obedience.
We are called to follow Jesus in the work he commissions us to continue. We are sent by Jesus to feed his lambs and tend his sheep. What’s wondrous is that the word disciple comes from a noun meaning follower. The word apostle comes from a verb meaning to send. In this passage, Peter is called to be both a disciple and an apostle. As Christ’s body in the world, we are called to continue this work as both disciples and apostles. As the Body of Christ, through the power of the Holy Spirit, we are continuously transformed into both disciples and apostles. We follow Jesus and we are sent to take his work into the world.
We remember that like Simon Peter, on this brand new day we are called to follow the Lord and we are sent to be God’s reconciling people to the world. On this brand new day we are called by our Lord to serve creation healing the wounds that separate us from God and from one another. On this brand new day we are given the gift of the Holy Spirit, God who walks beside us and guides us as we do God’s will in the world. And on this brand new day, saved by grace through faith, we are transformed into the Body of Christ.
[1] HomileticsOnline.com Illustration Keyword Search—Transformation. http://homileticsonline.com/subscriber/illustration_search.asp?keywords=transformation, retrieved April 12, 2010.
[2] “padia” entry from the electronic edition of Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature, Third Edition. Copyright © 2000 The University of Chicago Press. Revised and edited by Frederick William Danker, sixth edition.
[3] Matthew 18:3
[4] Matthew 19:14, Mark 10:14, Luke 18:16
[5] “lupeow” entry from the electronic edition of Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Making It Real
This sermon was heard at the First Presbyterian Church in Berryville, Arkansas on Sunday April 11, 2010, the Second Sunday in Easter.
Acts 5:27-32
Psalm 118:14-29
Revelation 1:4-8
John 20:19-31
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen
These days there is a tendency to value learning by experience over other forms. Often this is important, sometimes not so much, other times it’s darn near impossible. This tendency has been expressed by the question, “Why is it that if someone tells you that there are one billion stars in the universe, you will believe them, but if they tell you a wall has wet paint, you will have to touch it to be sure?”[i]
So frankly, should we be so surprised that Thomas wanted to see and touch Jesus? Here it is, right there in scripture, “So the other disciples told him, ‘We have seen the Lord.’” This immediately becomes the Christian equal to a “Wet Paint” sign as far as Thomas is concerned. “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.”
It is from Jesus’ own mouth that the word “doubt” is attached to Thomas. This is how the expression “Doubting Thomas” entered our vocabulary. Still, the resurrection wasn’t going to be real for him until he was able to have the same experience the other disciples had shared. C’mon, can we blame him? In his own way, Thomas was ahead of his time, he was told that “wet paint” had come to visit and he wasn’t going to believe it until he was able to touch it himself.
Praise be to God, Jesus offered Thomas just this opportunity. Jesus arrived, offered his peace for the third time since the resurrection, and said, “Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.” So Thomas reached out and touched his rabbi, his teacher.
It makes me wonder, was there still swelling around the injuries he sustained? Were the wounds still damp with his blood? Was there still a feverish warmth in his hands, feet, and side? Thomas touches Jesus and his reaction is more than just the contact, there is a visceral connection. Touching the wounds that are truly holy and in a blessed way still fresh, he responds in an informed yet primeval way. He sees that the paint surely is wet and proclaims for all to hear, “My Lord and my God!”
This is often the place in both the scripture and the sermon when preachers often focus on doubt again. Jesus proclaims to the disciples assembled in the sealed room, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” So often we hear this story as one of doubt, but scripture is not about us, it is about the Lord God. The heart of this story is not the doubt of Thomas, but the generous offer Jesus makes him, the offer to make his faith as real as his touch.[ii]
Again, praise the Lord that Jesus gave of himself, giving Thomas the same experience that he gave the other disciples, all of whom believed because they first saw. In the end, Thomas’ faith is more important than the grounds of his faith. Jesus presents himself saying “Do not be unbelieving, but believe.”[iii]
Of course, as we thank God for these experiences, this is the last generation that will be able to see and believe Jesus up close and in person. The ascension of the Lord will come sooner than later and those who will believe will believe without seeing Jesus in the way of the disciples.
In “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy” Douglas Adams, an author of absurdly humorous science fiction, wrote that the biggest problem with time travel is not meeting yourself at another place in time, or even becoming your own grandfather. He maintains that any well adjusted family will be able to contend with someone being their own grandfather.
No, according to Adams, the biggest problem with time travel is grammar. How do you conjugate a verb for something that should have happened but did not because someone ate a piece of cake that they should have left well enough alone? Well, scripture, and in particular the Greek New Testament offers just this sort of quandary in our reading today.
Our question is, “What does scripture mean when it uses either disciple or apostle?” Is there a difference? How important is that difference? The answer, it depends. Don’t you just hate it when that’s the answer? In the Greek New Testament and particularly in our gospel reading today, there is a distinct difference.
In Greek, the word we translate as disciple can mean pupil, student, or apprentice. Since we translate Rabbi as teacher, it is appropriate that the resurrected Jesus would call those he met as his disciples. Another definition of disciple means adherent or follower. Since they had followed Jesus in his life and now in his resurrection life, this definition would also be appropriate.
In our reading today and in the gospel of John in general, when John uses the word “disciple,” he means it to describe the followers of Jesus. It is also important to note that John doesn’t use any expression like “the twelve,” or as in the case of this reading, “at most the ten of the twelve since Thomas isn’t there and we can pretty much assume Judas has hung himself by now.” John’s gospel uses this word to describe his pupils; all who follow Jesus, every single one. This following aspect is particularly important.
This “following” aspect is important because where the word disciple comes from a noun that is related to following a teacher; the word apostle comes from a verb meaning to send. Apostles are the ones who are sent by the Lord God into the world to share what they are called to share from the Lord God.
One more time, to be a disciple means to be a follower. To be an apostle means to be sent. To Christians this means being sent by God. In our passage, Jesus comes into the locked room, meets the disciples and scripture tells us, “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.’”
Jesus lives because he breathes new life into those disciples through the gift of the Spirit and commissions them to continue his work.[iv] Jesus continues to live because he breathes new life into us through the gift of the Spirit and commissions us to continue his work. In the church, like those who have received the breath of God, Jesus sends us into the world to share the Good News of the gospel with those who are thirsty to hear it.
For John, the church’s ongoing life as a community of faith, as the people who continue Jesus’ work in the world, is derived from Jesus’ Easter promises and gifts.[v] As the people who continue Jesus’ work in the world, we receive the Easter promises to take God’s word into the world. As Jesus gives the disciples his Spirit, his breath so that they would have the gifts they need to go into the wild, wild world; we receive these gifts too.
In a 1990 graduation address, Cornell University astronomer Carl Sagan urged Lehigh University graduates to embody what they know about the environment. “Don't sit this one out. Do something. You are by an accident of fate alive at an absolutely critical moment in the history of our planet.” Do something.[vi]
In the same way, these first Christian disciples, these who become the first apostles sent into the world, are the first graduating class of the church. These Christians are given their commission, they are sent to do something. Far more valuable than an Ivy League sheepskin, they are then equipped with the one thing that enables them to do anything; the breath, the Holy Spirit of God.
They will not be able to present Christ to the world in the same way Christ presented himself to them. Christ presented himself physically, bodily to them; this option is no longer available. Instead they, and we, we represent Christ to the world. It is important for us that we represent Christ in the world. It is we who are now Christ’s body in the world. By the word of God, through the power of the Holy Spirit, we are able to show the grace and peace of God to the world.
In a world that insists on touching a wall that is covered with signs that say “wet paint,” it is up to us to paint the world in ways that people will reach out and touch. This is how we make our faith real for ourselves and for others, by representing Christ’s love and forgiveness in the world. In Christ’s grace and peace through the power of the Holy Spirit, our witness makes Christ real to the rest of the world.
Someone once said “When you ask your lover for a kiss, you don’t expect a piece of paper with ‘A Kiss’ written on it. Description, definition, interpretation, and [forensic] analysis of truth to find out ‘how it's made’ still gives us only part of the story.”[vii] When our faith is real, we go beyond the written word and represent the Living Word. We must become Christ’s body in the world so that others may see that our Lord lives.
Our Lord lives just as surely today as he did those 2,000 years ago when he presented himself before his disciples; when he empowered them with his Spirit, his breath; and sent them into the world with his grace and peace. Scripture tells us that Jesus did many other signs that are not written in this book. It is up to us to continue doing these signs by the grace and peace of our Lord Jesus Christ. It is when our faith is made real that we have life in his name.
[i] HomileticsOnline.com illustrations for the topic “Experience.” http://homileticsonline.com/subscriber/illustration_search.asp?item_topic_id=1207. Retrieved April 10, 2010.
[ii] New Interpreter’s Bible, Vol .IX, page 852.
[iii] Ibid.
[iv] NIB, Ibid, page 848
[v] Ibid.
[vi] HomileticsOnline.com, Ibid
[vii] HomileticsOnline.com, Ibid
Acts 5:27-32
Psalm 118:14-29
Revelation 1:4-8
John 20:19-31
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen
These days there is a tendency to value learning by experience over other forms. Often this is important, sometimes not so much, other times it’s darn near impossible. This tendency has been expressed by the question, “Why is it that if someone tells you that there are one billion stars in the universe, you will believe them, but if they tell you a wall has wet paint, you will have to touch it to be sure?”[i]
So frankly, should we be so surprised that Thomas wanted to see and touch Jesus? Here it is, right there in scripture, “So the other disciples told him, ‘We have seen the Lord.’” This immediately becomes the Christian equal to a “Wet Paint” sign as far as Thomas is concerned. “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.”
It is from Jesus’ own mouth that the word “doubt” is attached to Thomas. This is how the expression “Doubting Thomas” entered our vocabulary. Still, the resurrection wasn’t going to be real for him until he was able to have the same experience the other disciples had shared. C’mon, can we blame him? In his own way, Thomas was ahead of his time, he was told that “wet paint” had come to visit and he wasn’t going to believe it until he was able to touch it himself.
Praise be to God, Jesus offered Thomas just this opportunity. Jesus arrived, offered his peace for the third time since the resurrection, and said, “Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.” So Thomas reached out and touched his rabbi, his teacher.
It makes me wonder, was there still swelling around the injuries he sustained? Were the wounds still damp with his blood? Was there still a feverish warmth in his hands, feet, and side? Thomas touches Jesus and his reaction is more than just the contact, there is a visceral connection. Touching the wounds that are truly holy and in a blessed way still fresh, he responds in an informed yet primeval way. He sees that the paint surely is wet and proclaims for all to hear, “My Lord and my God!”
This is often the place in both the scripture and the sermon when preachers often focus on doubt again. Jesus proclaims to the disciples assembled in the sealed room, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” So often we hear this story as one of doubt, but scripture is not about us, it is about the Lord God. The heart of this story is not the doubt of Thomas, but the generous offer Jesus makes him, the offer to make his faith as real as his touch.[ii]
Again, praise the Lord that Jesus gave of himself, giving Thomas the same experience that he gave the other disciples, all of whom believed because they first saw. In the end, Thomas’ faith is more important than the grounds of his faith. Jesus presents himself saying “Do not be unbelieving, but believe.”[iii]
Of course, as we thank God for these experiences, this is the last generation that will be able to see and believe Jesus up close and in person. The ascension of the Lord will come sooner than later and those who will believe will believe without seeing Jesus in the way of the disciples.
In “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy” Douglas Adams, an author of absurdly humorous science fiction, wrote that the biggest problem with time travel is not meeting yourself at another place in time, or even becoming your own grandfather. He maintains that any well adjusted family will be able to contend with someone being their own grandfather.
No, according to Adams, the biggest problem with time travel is grammar. How do you conjugate a verb for something that should have happened but did not because someone ate a piece of cake that they should have left well enough alone? Well, scripture, and in particular the Greek New Testament offers just this sort of quandary in our reading today.
Our question is, “What does scripture mean when it uses either disciple or apostle?” Is there a difference? How important is that difference? The answer, it depends. Don’t you just hate it when that’s the answer? In the Greek New Testament and particularly in our gospel reading today, there is a distinct difference.
In Greek, the word we translate as disciple can mean pupil, student, or apprentice. Since we translate Rabbi as teacher, it is appropriate that the resurrected Jesus would call those he met as his disciples. Another definition of disciple means adherent or follower. Since they had followed Jesus in his life and now in his resurrection life, this definition would also be appropriate.
In our reading today and in the gospel of John in general, when John uses the word “disciple,” he means it to describe the followers of Jesus. It is also important to note that John doesn’t use any expression like “the twelve,” or as in the case of this reading, “at most the ten of the twelve since Thomas isn’t there and we can pretty much assume Judas has hung himself by now.” John’s gospel uses this word to describe his pupils; all who follow Jesus, every single one. This following aspect is particularly important.
This “following” aspect is important because where the word disciple comes from a noun that is related to following a teacher; the word apostle comes from a verb meaning to send. Apostles are the ones who are sent by the Lord God into the world to share what they are called to share from the Lord God.
One more time, to be a disciple means to be a follower. To be an apostle means to be sent. To Christians this means being sent by God. In our passage, Jesus comes into the locked room, meets the disciples and scripture tells us, “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.’”
Jesus lives because he breathes new life into those disciples through the gift of the Spirit and commissions them to continue his work.[iv] Jesus continues to live because he breathes new life into us through the gift of the Spirit and commissions us to continue his work. In the church, like those who have received the breath of God, Jesus sends us into the world to share the Good News of the gospel with those who are thirsty to hear it.
For John, the church’s ongoing life as a community of faith, as the people who continue Jesus’ work in the world, is derived from Jesus’ Easter promises and gifts.[v] As the people who continue Jesus’ work in the world, we receive the Easter promises to take God’s word into the world. As Jesus gives the disciples his Spirit, his breath so that they would have the gifts they need to go into the wild, wild world; we receive these gifts too.
In a 1990 graduation address, Cornell University astronomer Carl Sagan urged Lehigh University graduates to embody what they know about the environment. “Don't sit this one out. Do something. You are by an accident of fate alive at an absolutely critical moment in the history of our planet.” Do something.[vi]
In the same way, these first Christian disciples, these who become the first apostles sent into the world, are the first graduating class of the church. These Christians are given their commission, they are sent to do something. Far more valuable than an Ivy League sheepskin, they are then equipped with the one thing that enables them to do anything; the breath, the Holy Spirit of God.
They will not be able to present Christ to the world in the same way Christ presented himself to them. Christ presented himself physically, bodily to them; this option is no longer available. Instead they, and we, we represent Christ to the world. It is important for us that we represent Christ in the world. It is we who are now Christ’s body in the world. By the word of God, through the power of the Holy Spirit, we are able to show the grace and peace of God to the world.
In a world that insists on touching a wall that is covered with signs that say “wet paint,” it is up to us to paint the world in ways that people will reach out and touch. This is how we make our faith real for ourselves and for others, by representing Christ’s love and forgiveness in the world. In Christ’s grace and peace through the power of the Holy Spirit, our witness makes Christ real to the rest of the world.
Someone once said “When you ask your lover for a kiss, you don’t expect a piece of paper with ‘A Kiss’ written on it. Description, definition, interpretation, and [forensic] analysis of truth to find out ‘how it's made’ still gives us only part of the story.”[vii] When our faith is real, we go beyond the written word and represent the Living Word. We must become Christ’s body in the world so that others may see that our Lord lives.
Our Lord lives just as surely today as he did those 2,000 years ago when he presented himself before his disciples; when he empowered them with his Spirit, his breath; and sent them into the world with his grace and peace. Scripture tells us that Jesus did many other signs that are not written in this book. It is up to us to continue doing these signs by the grace and peace of our Lord Jesus Christ. It is when our faith is made real that we have life in his name.
[i] HomileticsOnline.com illustrations for the topic “Experience.” http://homileticsonline.com/subscriber/illustration_search.asp?item_topic_id=1207. Retrieved April 10, 2010.
[ii] New Interpreter’s Bible, Vol .IX, page 852.
[iii] Ibid.
[iv] NIB, Ibid, page 848
[v] Ibid.
[vi] HomileticsOnline.com, Ibid
[vii] HomileticsOnline.com, Ibid
Sunday, April 04, 2010
Childlike
This sermon was heard at the First Presbyterian Church in Berryville, Arkansas on Sunday April 4, 2010, Easter/Resurrection of the Lord Sunday.
Isaiah 65:17-25
Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24
Acts 10:34:43
John 20:1-18
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen.
The Reverend Randy Cross is a clergy member of the United Methodist Church’s Dakotas Conference serving as District Superintendent of the Lower James River District, Director of Connectional Ministries, and Director of Leadership Development for the Dakotas. He also writes curriculum for the United Methodist Publishing House from his home in Mitchell, South Dakota. It is in this latter role where he tells this story:
Preparing youth to do a sunrise service is a terrible joy. I use the oxymoron “terrible joy” because the work is so hard and the event so important. The task of helping youth understand the seriousness and the joy of receiving the news of resurrection on Easter often drives pastors and youth leaders to distraction on the days before Easter. I remember one year when I had a group of funny, entertaining youth. Throughout the rehearsal for the service, the more I tried to get them to focus, the more they flew off into their imagination to the four corners of the earth. In frustration and exhaustion, I finally ended the rehearsal early and wished them all good luck on Easter. I hoped they would not embarrass themselves and their families by not being prepared. Like Pontius Pilate, I washed my hands of them. It was not the way I had hoped to prepare for Easter Day.
When Easter morning came I dreaded the first event. I hoped no one would show up and that the ill-prepared service would fade into oblivion. It was a particularly nice morning, and the sunrise service had twice as many people as usual in it. All I could see was a gathering darkness. I tried to look into the eyes of the youth before the service, but I saw no hint of fear or concern. I resigned myself to a bad experience. Everyone appeared to be in place for their various leadership roles.
I looked up front and saw our “lead off” youth at the pulpit. He was one of the youngest members of the group and was in charge of the Easter greeting. As the lights came up, he yelled at the top of his squeaky, high boy-soprano voice, “Christ is risen!” Laughter bellowed from the members of the congregation because they did not expect that sound. Quiet again, he continued, “Christ is risen!” Finally people began to hear the muffled sounds of the youth up front who were responding to the ancient Easter greeting with “He is risen indeed.” It was a quiet, sleepy rising; but the words were exchanged. However, the youth leader was not satisfied. He yelled again, “Christ is risen!” The congregation responded, “He is risen indeed.” Over and over again came the yell from the pulpit as the congregation’s voice grew louder and more enthusiastic. Finally, at the last, the sound was so thundering between the speaker and the smiling faces of the worshipers that it could have almost rolled a stone away. Easter had come, and the announcement of new life had been shared with a squeaky voice that would not be silent until the world had responded.[1]
What strikes me about this story is the truth it contains; a child did lead them. One of the youngest members of this youth group, this boy soprano, a child did lead them.
This Easter passage has been read for over 1900 years by and to the people of God. But the take on the actions of Peter and the beloved disciple offered by the Reverend John Stendahl[2] offers a new point of view on their actions. Pastor Stendahl offers the opinion that these disciples behave far more like boys than men when Mary Magdalene came to them after finding the empty tomb.
Imagine two boys, cut from the mold of Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn, hearing of the disappearance of the crucified Christ and racing to the tomb. It’s the beloved disciple and the rock upon which the church will be built racing like little boys to the scene of the crime.
Pastor Stendahl makes the point of using these titles quite intentionally. As men and as disciples of Jesus, they share the peace of their teacher, their rabbi. But in this moment, they seem to revert to the little boys they once were. In this moment they stopped behaving like grown men and became like little boys competing against one another.
Lest we begin to think that this image is too irreverent for these great saints of the faith, consider the words of scripture. We read that they went to the tomb, but this image soon dissolves into them running together. This image moves further into absurdity as we read that the other disciple outran Peter. The whole mantle of maturity falls apart when the other disciple, the beloved disciple bends down to look into the tomb only to find the linen wrappings rolled up and set aside. But while he does not go into the tomb, Peter smashes all decorum and enters the tomb. Only then does the other disciple follow.
How doesn’t this look like a race between two kids at recess? If they were truly youngsters who should be off tending the sheep instead of full grown men, it would be no great leap to think of them as boys being boys instead of the Rock upon which the church will be built and the beloved disciple. Does this overstate the comic? Perhaps, but in the words of Pastor Stendahl, “it is hard to ignore at least the suggestion of such childish, such boyish, competition between these two iconic figures.”[3]
This part of the passage ends as they return to their homes after they saw and believed. They saw and they believed, but scripture makes it clear that they did not understand. They did not understand the scriptures. They did not understand that Jesus must rise from the dead. It’s almost like this part of the gospel has dissolved from Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn into a Hardy Boys mystery, “The Case of the Missing Messiah.” They saw and believed, they had all of the information in front of them, but they did not understand. They were not able to discern what happened to the body, so they went home.
The Hardy Boys would have done more to get to the bottom of this.
It is the story of Mary Magdalene that has none of this comedy.
For Mary, it’s early. It’s still dark outside as Mary leaves for the tomb. Perhaps the sun has just begun to come up so it can still be considered dark outside. If Mary leaves the house any sooner she will violate the Sabbath. Perhaps she doesn’t care anymore, she has to get to the tomb so if she is caught in violation Sabbath travel restrictions, so be it.
So from which ever side of the crack of dawn she leaves, she leaves the house and goes to the tomb. When she arrives she sees that the stone that had been placed over its mouth has been removed. I suspect she looked into the open tomb, if for just a moment. Maybe she didn’t look in, but instead had a sinking feeling in her heart. Either way, she comes to the correct conclusion. Jesus’ body was not there.
Mary sees the open tomb, overwhelmed by grief, or maybe by panic. The Lord is not there, how can this be? Mary remains weeping at the tomb. Her Lord is dead and missing. The two people she shares her worries with have abandoned her. She is alone again. She is lost. She is distraught. She weeps and she looks into the tomb. What else can she do?
Suddenly she is found by two angels who ask why she is crying. She repeats her lament, “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.” Can you hear her heart breaking? Flowery speeches are unnecessary. “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.” Then, just as suddenly she turns and sees another man standing before her. Who is this man? Did he take the body of the Lord?
He breaks the momentary silence repeating the question of the men in the tomb, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?” Scripture tells us Mary supposed he was the gardener. But she may have also thought he was a thief or a fool.
Only a fool wouldn’t know what had been going on in Jerusalem over the past week. The Passover was only a part of what was happening now. The Nazarene, Jesus came into Jerusalem triumphantly on the back of a colt. Later, he was tried as an enemy of the state or of the church depending on the accuser. Then he was crucified with two criminals. This was his crypt, and if this man was the gardener either he was oblivious to the events of the last week and the responsibilities of his job or he was the one who moved the body.
She answers his question without contempt toward its foolishness, but she is not above suspecting this gardener of taking Jesus. “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him and I will take him away.” How Mary is going to carry the dead weight of a man is irrelevant. If this gardener knows where the body is, she will retrieve it and return it to its proper resting place.
It’s the least she can do. The Lord has delivered Mary from her life in the world to life with him. The gospels tell different stories about Mary and her history, but there is one thing that is certain. Jesus finds Mary and then she becomes actively useful to the ministry of the Lord. Carrying him to his final resting place is the least she can do.
Her world is shattered. Being useful in this small way is all she can think to do. It is all she dares to believe she can do. What else is there?
Jesus then calls her by name. “Mary!” Recognizing him, she turns and calls out to him “Rabbouni.” She is flooded with emotion. The warmth must be amazing. Her tears of sorrow and anxiety and fear become tears of joy and relief. The Lord reveals himself to her again. She has found him and the world is turning anew. She rushes to him, she clings to him. Jesus tells her this is not the time, she is to go and tell the brothers what was happening, and what would happen. Jesus tells Mary “I am ascending to my Father.”
Mary does as she is told. She goes to the disciples. Such a difference a moment makes in our lives. Her world has been turned over three times in the last three days, the twice within the last hour or so. If she is running she is skipping. If she is walking she is walking on sunshine. Life is never going to be the same. Her Lord lives. And she is trusted to take these things to the others. “I have seen the Lord,” and life, which had all ready been turned on its ear, is turning again and again. “I have seen the Lord.”
I retell this story because I want us all to see the difference between the disciples’ story and Mary’s story. By the reckoning of Pastor Stendhal’s re-envisioning of the gospel, Peter and the other disciple act childishly. They behave like boys-being-boys racing each other to the tomb. While they have all of the information they need, they have no idea how to interpret it. So as dawn breaks, they go to bed.
Mary’s reaction is much different. She approaches the tomb first to worship her slain Lord and then to mourn the loss of his body. She cries out in tender (if suspicious) lament to the one who might be able to tell her what has happened here. She cries out that the one she grieves is now gone. Her affection to the Lord is obvious as she weeps to the angels. Her sorrow swells as she is met by her Lord who she can only see as a gardener. Her joy then becomes infectious as she recognizes him, crying “Rabbouni!” as she meets his wondrous gaze. Her glee, her delight, her abandoned, unrestrained joy is childlike.
Yes, this is our lesson for the day. We are called to have a faith that is childlike, not childish. The story I started with about this special Easter sunrise service in South Dakota makes this point. It begins as Reverend Cross fears the childish antics of a bunch of unruly tweens and teens and is met with the childlike joy of a boy-soprano crying to the specific congregation and the church universal “He is risen.” Let’s not make him wait, let us join his childlike wonder and answer him with the most ancient of all confessions, “He is risen indeed”
[1] Cross, Randy, “Bound for Golgotha, A Lenten Study based on the Revised Common Lectionary, Lent 2007.” Nashville: TN: Abingdon Press, 2006, pages 57-58.
[2] Stendahl, John K. “Feasting on the Word” Year C, Volume 2. David Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, General Editors. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009, pages 372-376
[3] Ibid, page 372.
Isaiah 65:17-25
Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24
Acts 10:34:43
John 20:1-18
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen.
The Reverend Randy Cross is a clergy member of the United Methodist Church’s Dakotas Conference serving as District Superintendent of the Lower James River District, Director of Connectional Ministries, and Director of Leadership Development for the Dakotas. He also writes curriculum for the United Methodist Publishing House from his home in Mitchell, South Dakota. It is in this latter role where he tells this story:
Preparing youth to do a sunrise service is a terrible joy. I use the oxymoron “terrible joy” because the work is so hard and the event so important. The task of helping youth understand the seriousness and the joy of receiving the news of resurrection on Easter often drives pastors and youth leaders to distraction on the days before Easter. I remember one year when I had a group of funny, entertaining youth. Throughout the rehearsal for the service, the more I tried to get them to focus, the more they flew off into their imagination to the four corners of the earth. In frustration and exhaustion, I finally ended the rehearsal early and wished them all good luck on Easter. I hoped they would not embarrass themselves and their families by not being prepared. Like Pontius Pilate, I washed my hands of them. It was not the way I had hoped to prepare for Easter Day.
When Easter morning came I dreaded the first event. I hoped no one would show up and that the ill-prepared service would fade into oblivion. It was a particularly nice morning, and the sunrise service had twice as many people as usual in it. All I could see was a gathering darkness. I tried to look into the eyes of the youth before the service, but I saw no hint of fear or concern. I resigned myself to a bad experience. Everyone appeared to be in place for their various leadership roles.
I looked up front and saw our “lead off” youth at the pulpit. He was one of the youngest members of the group and was in charge of the Easter greeting. As the lights came up, he yelled at the top of his squeaky, high boy-soprano voice, “Christ is risen!” Laughter bellowed from the members of the congregation because they did not expect that sound. Quiet again, he continued, “Christ is risen!” Finally people began to hear the muffled sounds of the youth up front who were responding to the ancient Easter greeting with “He is risen indeed.” It was a quiet, sleepy rising; but the words were exchanged. However, the youth leader was not satisfied. He yelled again, “Christ is risen!” The congregation responded, “He is risen indeed.” Over and over again came the yell from the pulpit as the congregation’s voice grew louder and more enthusiastic. Finally, at the last, the sound was so thundering between the speaker and the smiling faces of the worshipers that it could have almost rolled a stone away. Easter had come, and the announcement of new life had been shared with a squeaky voice that would not be silent until the world had responded.[1]
What strikes me about this story is the truth it contains; a child did lead them. One of the youngest members of this youth group, this boy soprano, a child did lead them.
This Easter passage has been read for over 1900 years by and to the people of God. But the take on the actions of Peter and the beloved disciple offered by the Reverend John Stendahl[2] offers a new point of view on their actions. Pastor Stendahl offers the opinion that these disciples behave far more like boys than men when Mary Magdalene came to them after finding the empty tomb.
Imagine two boys, cut from the mold of Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn, hearing of the disappearance of the crucified Christ and racing to the tomb. It’s the beloved disciple and the rock upon which the church will be built racing like little boys to the scene of the crime.
Pastor Stendahl makes the point of using these titles quite intentionally. As men and as disciples of Jesus, they share the peace of their teacher, their rabbi. But in this moment, they seem to revert to the little boys they once were. In this moment they stopped behaving like grown men and became like little boys competing against one another.
Lest we begin to think that this image is too irreverent for these great saints of the faith, consider the words of scripture. We read that they went to the tomb, but this image soon dissolves into them running together. This image moves further into absurdity as we read that the other disciple outran Peter. The whole mantle of maturity falls apart when the other disciple, the beloved disciple bends down to look into the tomb only to find the linen wrappings rolled up and set aside. But while he does not go into the tomb, Peter smashes all decorum and enters the tomb. Only then does the other disciple follow.
How doesn’t this look like a race between two kids at recess? If they were truly youngsters who should be off tending the sheep instead of full grown men, it would be no great leap to think of them as boys being boys instead of the Rock upon which the church will be built and the beloved disciple. Does this overstate the comic? Perhaps, but in the words of Pastor Stendahl, “it is hard to ignore at least the suggestion of such childish, such boyish, competition between these two iconic figures.”[3]
This part of the passage ends as they return to their homes after they saw and believed. They saw and they believed, but scripture makes it clear that they did not understand. They did not understand the scriptures. They did not understand that Jesus must rise from the dead. It’s almost like this part of the gospel has dissolved from Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn into a Hardy Boys mystery, “The Case of the Missing Messiah.” They saw and believed, they had all of the information in front of them, but they did not understand. They were not able to discern what happened to the body, so they went home.
The Hardy Boys would have done more to get to the bottom of this.
It is the story of Mary Magdalene that has none of this comedy.
For Mary, it’s early. It’s still dark outside as Mary leaves for the tomb. Perhaps the sun has just begun to come up so it can still be considered dark outside. If Mary leaves the house any sooner she will violate the Sabbath. Perhaps she doesn’t care anymore, she has to get to the tomb so if she is caught in violation Sabbath travel restrictions, so be it.
So from which ever side of the crack of dawn she leaves, she leaves the house and goes to the tomb. When she arrives she sees that the stone that had been placed over its mouth has been removed. I suspect she looked into the open tomb, if for just a moment. Maybe she didn’t look in, but instead had a sinking feeling in her heart. Either way, she comes to the correct conclusion. Jesus’ body was not there.
Mary sees the open tomb, overwhelmed by grief, or maybe by panic. The Lord is not there, how can this be? Mary remains weeping at the tomb. Her Lord is dead and missing. The two people she shares her worries with have abandoned her. She is alone again. She is lost. She is distraught. She weeps and she looks into the tomb. What else can she do?
Suddenly she is found by two angels who ask why she is crying. She repeats her lament, “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.” Can you hear her heart breaking? Flowery speeches are unnecessary. “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.” Then, just as suddenly she turns and sees another man standing before her. Who is this man? Did he take the body of the Lord?
He breaks the momentary silence repeating the question of the men in the tomb, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?” Scripture tells us Mary supposed he was the gardener. But she may have also thought he was a thief or a fool.
Only a fool wouldn’t know what had been going on in Jerusalem over the past week. The Passover was only a part of what was happening now. The Nazarene, Jesus came into Jerusalem triumphantly on the back of a colt. Later, he was tried as an enemy of the state or of the church depending on the accuser. Then he was crucified with two criminals. This was his crypt, and if this man was the gardener either he was oblivious to the events of the last week and the responsibilities of his job or he was the one who moved the body.
She answers his question without contempt toward its foolishness, but she is not above suspecting this gardener of taking Jesus. “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him and I will take him away.” How Mary is going to carry the dead weight of a man is irrelevant. If this gardener knows where the body is, she will retrieve it and return it to its proper resting place.
It’s the least she can do. The Lord has delivered Mary from her life in the world to life with him. The gospels tell different stories about Mary and her history, but there is one thing that is certain. Jesus finds Mary and then she becomes actively useful to the ministry of the Lord. Carrying him to his final resting place is the least she can do.
Her world is shattered. Being useful in this small way is all she can think to do. It is all she dares to believe she can do. What else is there?
Jesus then calls her by name. “Mary!” Recognizing him, she turns and calls out to him “Rabbouni.” She is flooded with emotion. The warmth must be amazing. Her tears of sorrow and anxiety and fear become tears of joy and relief. The Lord reveals himself to her again. She has found him and the world is turning anew. She rushes to him, she clings to him. Jesus tells her this is not the time, she is to go and tell the brothers what was happening, and what would happen. Jesus tells Mary “I am ascending to my Father.”
Mary does as she is told. She goes to the disciples. Such a difference a moment makes in our lives. Her world has been turned over three times in the last three days, the twice within the last hour or so. If she is running she is skipping. If she is walking she is walking on sunshine. Life is never going to be the same. Her Lord lives. And she is trusted to take these things to the others. “I have seen the Lord,” and life, which had all ready been turned on its ear, is turning again and again. “I have seen the Lord.”
I retell this story because I want us all to see the difference between the disciples’ story and Mary’s story. By the reckoning of Pastor Stendhal’s re-envisioning of the gospel, Peter and the other disciple act childishly. They behave like boys-being-boys racing each other to the tomb. While they have all of the information they need, they have no idea how to interpret it. So as dawn breaks, they go to bed.
Mary’s reaction is much different. She approaches the tomb first to worship her slain Lord and then to mourn the loss of his body. She cries out in tender (if suspicious) lament to the one who might be able to tell her what has happened here. She cries out that the one she grieves is now gone. Her affection to the Lord is obvious as she weeps to the angels. Her sorrow swells as she is met by her Lord who she can only see as a gardener. Her joy then becomes infectious as she recognizes him, crying “Rabbouni!” as she meets his wondrous gaze. Her glee, her delight, her abandoned, unrestrained joy is childlike.
Yes, this is our lesson for the day. We are called to have a faith that is childlike, not childish. The story I started with about this special Easter sunrise service in South Dakota makes this point. It begins as Reverend Cross fears the childish antics of a bunch of unruly tweens and teens and is met with the childlike joy of a boy-soprano crying to the specific congregation and the church universal “He is risen.” Let’s not make him wait, let us join his childlike wonder and answer him with the most ancient of all confessions, “He is risen indeed”
[1] Cross, Randy, “Bound for Golgotha, A Lenten Study based on the Revised Common Lectionary, Lent 2007.” Nashville: TN: Abingdon Press, 2006, pages 57-58.
[2] Stendahl, John K. “Feasting on the Word” Year C, Volume 2. David Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, General Editors. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009, pages 372-376
[3] Ibid, page 372.
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