The Final Word

This sermon was heard at the First Presbyterian Church in Marshall, Texas on Sunday November 4, 2012, the 31st Sunday in Ordinary Time.

Audio for "The Final Word" was corrupted so will not be available. Sorry about that friends.

Isaiah 25:6-9

Psalm 24

Revelation 21:1-6a

John 11:32-44

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer.  Amen

Hurricane Sandy was born on October 22^nd. It was birthed in the warm waters of the Caribbean where it quickly amplified from low pressure system to tropical depression to tropical storm. Two days later it became a hurricane as it plowed into Jamaica. We don’t hear much about the tropical days of Sandy anymore. In the southern parts of the continent Sandy took 70 lives in Jamaica, Cuba, Haiti, the Dominican Republic, the Bahamas, and Bermuda. There are still 21 Haitians missing too.[1]

From there, I don’t have to tell you much about the path of the storm. It pretty much paralleled the Atlantic coast until taking a sharp left into southern New Jersey. Every bit of Sandy brought its share of terror to the East Coast just before Halloween. Only a category one Hurricane, Sandy’s sheer size was perhaps the most devastating part of what is now called a Super Storm. In total, 24 states bore Sandy’s wrath. From Florida to Maine and west to Wisconsin, Sandy’s trod across our country. By the time the storm left the US and entered Canada, an additional 110 people were killed in the path and the wrath of the storm.

Among those 110 souls, some were related to the storm’s aftermath. Some were injured and killed by fire and electrocution that followed.

One especially devastated community, the Belle Harbor neighborhood in Queens, New York City faced its third major travesty of the century. This neighborhood is the home of many of New York’s Bravest, the Fire Department of New York. Many firefighters from this neighborhood perished in the World Trade Center collapse in 2001. This is also the site of the crash of American Airlines flight 587 on November 12, 2001. This brought the loss of all 260 aboard and five more on the ground. Just two months after 9/11, this community was devastated again. Eleven years later, it faced its third in Sandy.

It’s not difficult to add up the losses of life for a mathematician. On an old time adding machine counting the dead is as easy as pulling a crank. On a spreadsheet, it’s as easy as a little data entry and setting the SUM command properly. I don’t want to count. I don’t want to know. Numbers don’t lie, but numbers don’t bleed, and there’s too much blood right now. Terror, error,[2] tempest; there’s too much blood and not enough time to reflect on the lives of the saints lost in any of these tragedies.

When we think of “the saints,” we think about people like these people, those who are among the “Church Triumphant.” That’s true as far as it goes, but there’s more.

The good news is that Jesus knows our tragedies. He knows our tragedies because he has shared our tragedies. The eleventh chapter of John is a glorious story. Mary and Martha sent a messenger to Jesus saying, “Lord, the one you love is sick.” Jesus sends the messenger back with a word, “This sickness will not end in death.” Technically speaking, this is true. Jesus continues, “No, it is for God’s glory so that God’s Son may be glorified through it.” So he decides they would spend a couple extra days where they were before heading to Bethany.

You know what happens; Jesus tells the disciples that Lazarus sleeps. They think that’s a good thing because he needs his rest. I imagine the head-slap or face-palm when Jesus tells them, “No, Lazarus is dead.”

They reach Bethany where Mary meets them in mourning. Jesus was moved and troubled by what he saw. He saw the souls Lazarus touched walking with Mary. He wept along side her.

Alongside Mary, Jesus wept.

Alongside all who were there, Jesus wept.

Jesus commands the men to move the stone from in front of the tomb. Martha at the tomb warns that there will be a bad odor since their brother is four days dead. Jesus reminds them that if they believe they will see the glory of God. Calling to the Father, he declares what comes next will happen so that all those with ears to hear will know that the Father called the Son to this place and time.

With that, Lazarus comes from the grave and Jesus tells the people to take off his grave clothes and let him go.

Hear the promises of the Lord heard from the lips of the prophet Isaiah:

Then the Lord GOD will wipe away the tears from all faces,

and the disgrace of his people he will take away from all the earth,

for the LORD has spoken.

It will be said on that day,

Lo, this is our God; we have waited for him, so that he might save us.

This is the LORD for whom we have waited;

let us be glad and rejoice in his salvation.

This is what we are promised in the words of John the Revelator. 

And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying,

“See, the home of God is among mortals.

He will dwell with them as their God;

they will be his peoples,

and God himself will be with them;

he will wipe every tear from their eyes.

Death will be no more;

mourning and crying and pain will be no more,

for the first things have passed away.”

And the one who was seated on the throne said, “See, I am making all things new.”

These foresights were made by the Spirit through the lips of the prophets. We hear the Lord will wipe the tears from his disgraced people. We hear that the Lord will come so that we may rejoice and be glad in his salvation. In John’s gospel, we receive this example of how God has worked in the lives of the people. Christ lives through the Word. Christ is the living Word. Christ lives in the lives of the Saints. Christ lives in those who have passed, and those who will come in the future.

So what is the final word? The final word is that we are all reconciled through Christ to God. Through Christ, families are reconciled. Through Jesus, people are protected from a society that would allow them to be victims. Through the power of the Father, announced by the voice of Son, the Lord brings life where there was death. Through Jesus, our grave clothes are removed and more. We are loosed from the ties that bind, from death that wraps us in its mitts. We see this through the family of Lazarus, Martha, and Mary.

So what’s the final word? The final word is that the fully divine Lord our God, the Lord of lords, knew what was needed. He knew what he needed to do so that the people would know the Father hears the Son. This work was so that the people would see the glory of God. The final word is shared so that they would know it was the Father who sent the Son. This is the Lord’s cry at the tomb.

The final word is that the fully human God incarnate, Immanuel, God with us, mourned the loss of his friend’s life. Christ’s final word is that since he was as we are, he knows our pain, our loss, and our disappointment. He knows our trouble not because he sees it from afar, but because he shares it alongside us. Christ’s final word is that the fully human Jesus of Nazareth weeps in the face of the pain and sorrow of the human condition—a condition he shares. A condition he restores to its proper place. We see this as Jesus wept. We see this as Lazarus rises from the tomb.

So what’s the final word? Christ’s final word is that he is concerned with us every day. Christ’s final word is that neither the little deaths we face everyday nor the death from which both Lazarus and our Lord experienced and arose will defeat him. Christ’s final word is not just that he removes our death clothes, but he unbinds us from our shrouds continuously. As Jesus unbinds Lazarus, he shows us how he will free us.

Earlier I said that when we think of “the saints” we think about those who are among the Church Triumphant. I also said that’s true as far as it goes. As we celebrate All Saints’ Day, not only do we celebrate the lives of the saints of this congregation who have gone to meet Jesus, we celebrate all of the saints, living and dead; yes, living and dead.

In our tradition, we know that we have sinned. At the same time we believe that by grace through faith we have been made saints. Like I have said before, this is one of the “now and not yet” moments of our faith. We are saints who still sin. There’s something that can only be reconciled by the Lord.

Jesus shares the joy of relationship with the Father with us. Christ’s final word is that life eternal begins now. It neither ends nor begins with our passing into the unearthly communion of the saints.

God’s final word is that the Christ is the Alpha and the Omega. God is the first word of the good creation and the last word reconciling the fallen creation. God’s final word is that all this is comes from the Father and the Son through the Holy Spirit.

We live in a world with great pain, yes we do. But, we also live in a world where the Lord is our God and Jesus is the Christ. Celebrating All Saints’ Day, we are called to mourn those who have passed. As the saints, we are called to celebrate the joy of what we all share in, by and through the Lord our God.

---

[1] Hurricane Sandy, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hurricane_Sandy, retrieved November 3, 2012.

[2] The National Transportation Safety Board attributed the disaster to the first officer's overuse of rudder controls in response to wake turbulence released by a Japan Airlines Boeing 747-400. from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/American_Airlines_Flight_587, retrieved November 3, 2012.

The Least Expected

This sermon was heard at the First Presbyterian Church in Berryville, Arkansas on Sunday May 9, 2010, the 6th Sunday in Easter.

Acts 16:9-15
Psalm 67
Revelation 21:10, 21:22-22:5
John 5:1-9

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, or rock and our redeemer. Amen.

My favorite word in Hebrew is ruach. I love to hear it, I love to say it. I love what it means, both its simple definition and all of the wonderful meanings it carries with it. In Genesis 1:2, this is the word our bibles translate as “the Spirit”[1] or “the wind.”[2] Listen to the word again, ruach. It sounds like wind and spirit. There is a breathy, otherworldly quality to this word that mystifies me, ruach.

In Genesis, this breath of God, this spirit is imparted just before the light is created. It is the breath that blows across the chaos, across the darkness, across the void. This is the breath that precedes life. This is the breath that gives life to all creation.

This is the wind that comes off of the water in the morning. It’s the cool breeze that brings the dew that falls on the grass. It’s the summer breeze that rustles the leaves in the trees and tells us that all is right in the world. It is the Spirit that reminds us that God is in charge and regardless of the chaos of the world around us, it is the Spirit that says Emmanuel, God is with us. This is the same wind, Spirit we read about a couple of weeks ago from John’s gospel when the disciples received the breath of Jesus. It’s the same wind that will blow in two weeks on Pentecost.

Our gospel reading this week begins during one of the Jewish festivals and Jesus is walking by the Sheep Gate by a pool called Beth-zatha. In some translations this pool is called Bethesda. The Sheep Gate separated the North Eastern part of Jerusalem from the Temple Mount. The pools at the Sheep Gate were used to wash the sheep prior to their sacrifice in the Temple. This use of the pools gave the water a halo of sanctity.[3]

Many invalids came to the pools to be healed Local legend said that when the pool was stirred, its healing power was activated, and the first person in the waters would be made well. Legends from the third century said the ripples in the pool were caused by angels bathing in the waters. Since the pool was surrounded on all sides by the city walls or the surrounding slope of the hills, breezes in the pool would be infrequent, so the waiting game had to be played with great patience.

The name of this spot means “House of Grace.” The name of this spot would be appropriate for a group of invalids who seek the unmerited favor of healing by the restorative, mystical powers of the waters. Is it any wonder a Presbyterian Church was founded near the sight of a bubbling spring in rural Maryland in 1820 would be called Bethesda? Is it any wonder one-hundred-and-twenty years later a Naval Medical Center built nearby would come to be called Bethesda?[4] A place named for the House of Grace would be the place to receive special treatment, both medical and spiritual.

So Jesus arrives at the pool seeing the sick: the blind, the lame, and the withered. There, Jesus spotted a man he wanted to know more about. He was probably one of the oldest men at the pool. He learned that this man had been lying there for a long time, thirty eight years to be exact. So Jesus asks him, “Do you want to be made well?”

Oh what a wonderful question! “Do you want to be made well?” Imagine how you would answer this question. “Oh my Lord, yes, I want to be made well!” I can imagine people being asked this question all over the world and just as easily imagine people crying from the roof tops, “Oh yes Lord, I want to be made well!” But you know, this isn’t the answer Jesus gets.

The man tells Jesus, “Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up; and while I am making my way, someone else steps down ahead of me.”

So, is that a yes or a no?

No, really, I want to know.

Is this a yes or a no?

It really isn’t an answer at all. It is an explanation. The man explains to Jesus that he is unable to reach the waters. He tries. He really tries to make it on his own, because there is no one at the pool to help him. Alas, woe is he. He is unable to make it to the waters first.

So Jesus says to him, “Stand up, take your mat and walk.”

This man has waited thirty-eight years for the wind to blow across the pool. He has waited so very long for the wind to blow and for the healing power of the water to be activated for him. He waited to be caressed by the ripples in the pool caused by angels bathing.

Instead, he got something different. He got the thing he expected least in this world. He didn’t feel the wind blow causing the pool to ripple. He met the wind.

He met the wind. He met the living God. He met the one who caused the healing wind to blow. He didn’t meet an angel, he met God incarnate. He was waiting to feel the breeze so that he could race to the pool. Instead he met the one who is the wind. In the most real and least expected way, he met God with him; he had a personal encounter with Emmanuel.

For this man, there was no more need for the Pool of Siloam. In a way more real than I can imagine or expect, he was baptized not in water, but in the Spirit of the Lord, by which he took his mat and walked. That day, that Sabbath day, Jesus proved that he was present to reconcile all creation into right relationship with him. As the wind blew across the water in Genesis beginning all creation, Jesus blew across this man who was not able to get himself into the pool and gave him new life.

Our Lord, our Messiah is the one who is able to do more than we could ever hope or imagine. He is able to do what we least expect him to do. We read about this in Acts. We read about Paul’s first missionary journey into Europe. We are so familiar with our modern geography that it may be a surprise that this is the first recorded Christian mission to Europe, but this is not the big surprise.

No, verse 13 tells us that on the Sabbath, Paul and his traveling party went down to the river, down to the place of prayer, and spoke to the women who had gathered there. I am not going to go into the big explanation about why the women are the people we would least expect Paul to speak with on that day, we know about the subordinate roles women played in ancient times. Paul had crossed into Europe to share the Good News of Jesus Christ in the Roman Empire and chose to share it with women.

This slice of Bethesda, this slice of the “House of Grace” comes again to the water and the wind blows across it bringing the grace and peace of God to the world where it is least expected. By the grace and peace of God, these women are reconciled to all creation and begin their relationship anew with Jesus Christ.

This leads us to again, the thing we least expect. One of the women in the group, a believer in God named Lydia, was listening to Paul at the river. She was a dealer in purple cloth. To decode this phrase, she was rich and powerful. We know that she had very rich and powerful clients because only the richest people could afford to purchase purple and only the most powerful were allowed to wear it.

This woman, rich and powerful in her own right, brought her household to Paul for baptism. In effect, her household is the first toehold of Christianity in Europe. A woman’s home in Thyatira becomes the site of the first European Christian church. This easily qualifies as one of the things we least expect from this world.[5]

Even more unexpected is the vision of New Jerusalem that we saw in our reading from Revelation. The winds of change, the winds of reconciliation, the winds of life blow across the river of the water of life flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb. If you noticed, there is no temple in the city, simply because there is no need. You see, there is no need for a temple because New Jerusalem, the city where nothing accursed will be found any more becomes the new temple.[6]

This is the wonder and the glory of new life in Christ. The most glorious things we could least expect are just the beginning. The wind of new life blows across Bethesda lifting a man who had not walked in thirty-eight years. The wind blows across the river where the women pray and opens Europe to the gospel. The Gospel Incarnate, the Lamb of God will be seen again on the day of the New Jerusalem when there will be no more night.

This is the wind that blows. This is the ruach.

Pope John Paul II took the opportunity to “put Bob Dylan right” when the two megastars headlined a gig together in Bologna.[7] Dylan met His Holiness on stage during a Catholic youth event before playing three of his best-known songs. After the two men had shaken hands and exchanged a few words, the Pope stepped up to the microphone and took the singer to the theological cleaners.

“You say the answer is blowing in the wind, my friend,” he observed. “So it is. But it is not the wind that blows things away, it is the wind that is the breath and life of the Holy Spirit, the voice that calls and says, ‘Come!’”

Clearly enjoying the thunderous applause that greeted these words, the Pope continued in a style that would not have disgraced a television evangelist: “You ask me, how many roads must a man walk down before he becomes a man? I answer: One! There is only one road for man, and it is the road of Jesus Christ, who said I am the Way and the Life.”

As the wind blows, let us be blown by it.

[1] Jerusalem Publication Society, New American Standard Bible, New International Version, New Living translations
[2] New Revised Standard Version
[3] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pool_of_Bethesda, accessed May 12, 2007
[4] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bethesda%2C_Maryland and http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/National_Naval_Medical_Center accessed on May 12, 2007
[5] Cousar, Charles B, Gaventa, Beverly R., McCann, Jr., J. Clinton, Newsome, James D. “Texts for Preaching, A Lectionary Commentary Based on the NRSV, Year C.” Louisville, KY: Westminster/John Knox Press, 1994, pages 314-316.
[6] Ibid, pages 318-320.
[7] Ship of Fools Magazine Online, September 29, 1997 as found at HomileticsOnline.com, http://homileticsonline.com/subscriber/illustration_search.asp?item_topic_id=1887, May 7, 2010.

Not Like Any Other Saturday

This sermon was heard at the First Presbyterian Church in Berryville, Arkansas on Sunday May 2, 2010, the 5th Sunday in Easter. Thanks to the Reverend Doctor Ellen Babinsky for teaching me the Reformed Confessions.

Acts 11:1-18
Psalm 148
Revelation 21:1-6
John 13:31-35

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen.

On Wednesday evening, Lucille and I were discussing this passage, which is what we always do on Wednesday nights, but aside from that, we started to focus on the end of verse 33; “Where I am going, you cannot come.” As I started to wonder what this meant, Lucille asked, “Where is it that Jesus is going that the disciples cannot come? Is it hell or somewhere else?” Well, like I said, I had just begun to wonder myself just where Jesus was going that the disciples cannot come, but I wasn’t thinking anything so provocative.

My thoughts were more mundane, more physical. Jesus would go before the courts and the rulers. Was this where they could not come? Well, on that day, on the day that we commemorate as Maundy Thursday that was surely true. The path Jesus walked that day he would go without his disciples. But according to the Book of Acts, Stephen, though not one of the first twelve but still a disciple; Stephen would be found guilty before the Scribes and Pharisees. In the years to come, the Apostle Paul would be bound and jailed and appear before several Near East and Roman rulers and magistrates. He would eventually be taken to Rome for trial.

Jesus went to the Tetrarch, the local ruler, but Paul went all the way to Caesar.[1]

While the twelve would not go with Jesus that day, they would go before the rulers and governors and emperors spreading the gospel. Not on the same day as the Lord, but they would appear before them soon enough. In their own day and time, many, many disciples would appear before rulers and magistrates. In our own day and time, many, many disciples continue to appear before rulers and magistrates.

The more obvious answer is to the cross. The accounts of the crucifixion teach us that the disciples would scatter, like sheep when the shepherd is struck, before Jesus would be taken to the cross. Only one of the gospels places even one disciple, the beloved disciple, on Golgotha when Jesus was placed on the tree.[2] In fact, the scriptural witness shows that it was the women who were present when the Lord was on the cross. Was this where they could not come?

We know well that while no other disciple would be crucified on this day, we know that many would face a martyr’s death. After Stephen was found guilty by the Sanhedrin, he was stoned on the spot.[3] We are told that Peter would go to the cross, and in true Petrine style, he would declare that he was not worthy to die in the same way as his Lord. This is the reason we are told Peter was crucified upside-down,[4] with his feet to the sky and his head to the ground. Peter’s brother Andrew also was crucified in a novel way. The cross he was hung from was shaped like the letter “X”. This shape would come to bear the name “St. Andrew’s Cross.”[5]

Again, the crucifixion of the disciples would not happen on the day we call Good Friday, but they would hang from their own crosses soon enough. A martyr’s death and even crucifixion itself was not where the disciples could not come.

So much for my mundane suggestions. I think they’re pretty interesting. It is interesting enough that I wanted us to know that Jesus had laid out many footsteps that the disciples would eventually follow. These are places of honor and horror, agony and ecstasy, glory and shame that the disciples would follow in the same way as their Lord. So where was it that the disciples cannot come? This brings me back to Lucille’s wonderful suggestion: Hell.

As for what hell is, since the first century B.C., the Greek word gehenna was used in a “metaphorical sense to denote the place of fiery torment believed to be reserved for the wicked either immediately after death or ultimately after the Last Judgment.”[6] This word is the major New Testament source of our images of hell. So this is where we begin answering the question “Where’s Jesus” and what it means to say “He descended into Hell.”[7]

In the years that passed, since the ascension of Christ and the death of the first generations of disciples, the church sought to figure out what it meant to be the Church. The first major council of bishops of the church came together in the 300’s and developed the Nicene Creed. Begun in 325 AD and reaching its final form in 381, this creed tells us that Jesus suffered and was buried.[8]

It wasn’t the Apostles’ Creed, a writing begun in 180 AD and not finalized until the eighth century, that the phrase “he descended into hell” was added This line was actually added to the creed in the fifth century, making it one of the creed’s latest additions.[9]

So we have an interesting premise, thanks to Lucille; and a bit of history, thanks to me. We got him in hell, but this doesn’t help us much when we ask “What does it mean?” and “What does that mean for us today?”

For the first question, we can look at other places in The Book of Confessions. The Confessions aren’t the same as scripture, of course. The purpose of the Confessions is to interpret scripture for a specific time and place. The Nicene Creed was the way that fourth century Christians interpreted their faith. The Apostles’ Creed was the second major creed and was held as an authoritative interpretation of the faith for European Christians. The Eastern Orthodox Church had some issues with this creed beginning the granddaddy of all church splits that would come in 1054 when the Eastern Orthodox Church would branch from the Church of Rome.

Creeds had continued to be written through the ages, but one of the most important creeds is The Westminster Standards. The Reformation was 120-some years old when the “English House of Commons adopted an ordinance calling for the ‘settling of the government and liturgy of the Church of England (in a manner) most agreeable to God’s Holy Word and most apt to procure the peace of the church at home and nearer abroad.’” If you can explain what this means in one paragraph, you have done better than the Book of Confessions by five.

In short, between 1643 and 1649 a group of English politicians, theologians, clergy, and others wrote what would “represent the fruits of a Protestant scholasticism that refined and systematized the teachings of the Reformation.”[10] Or in my words, defined what it meant to be a Christian, a member of the Church of England, since the mid 17th century.

In the Westminster Standard’s Larger Catechism, the fiftieth question asks: “Wherein consisted Christ’s humiliation after his death?” (Between you and me, some might say the King’s English has more pizzazz, but I understand the way we speak much better.)

The respondent answers the question: “Christ's humiliation after his death consisted in his being buried, and continuing in the state of the dead, and under the power of death till the third day, which hath been otherwise expressed in these words: ‘He descended into hell.’”[11]

Jesus was under the power of death, under the power of death. Whatever those medieval artists rendered as being under the “powers of death” is what that meant. Every scary story about the dead ever written comes to mind, and the renaissance flare makes it special. The plagues of Revelation without the redeeming presence we read this morning, this is what we’re talking about as being “under the powers of death.”

This is how the church interpreted Jesus descending into hell, but how does this play into him saying, “where I am going, you cannot come?”

The Heidelberg Catechism was completed about 100 years before the Westminster’s by two young men, theologian Zacharias Ursinus and preacher Kaspar Olevianus. They were asked by Frederick the Elector, ruler of Palatinate, to create a creed acceptable to the new German Reformed Churches and the only slightly more established Lutheran churches.[12]

The Heidelberg Catechism offers three questions and answers that I share with you now:

The question “What further benefit do we receive from the sacrifice and death of Christ on the cross?” is answered “That by his power our old self is crucified, put to death, and buried with him, so that the evil passions of our mortal bodies may reign in us no more, but that we may offer ourselves to him as a sacrifice of thanksgiving.”[13]

This question comes first reminding us that Jesus was crucified, dead, and buried. By the power of Christ, our old self dies with him even before we are born. In response to this gracious act taken on our behalf, we may offer ourselves in thanks to God.

This question also helps reinforce the importance of the next two.

The next question is “Why is there added: ‘He descended into hell’?” To this we respond, “That in my severest tribulations I may be assured that Christ my Lord has redeemed me from hellish anxieties and torment by the unspeakable anguish, pains, and terrors which he suffered in his soul both on the cross and before.” [14]

By Christ’s descent into hell, we are redeemed from the horrors of our lives. By Christ’s descent into hell, we are saved the horrors of unredeemed death.

Finally, we ask “What benefit do we receive from ‘the resurrection’ of Christ?” The glorious answer is, “First, by his resurrection he has overcome death that he might make us share in the righteousness which he has obtained for us through his death. Second, we too are now raised by his power to a new life. Third, the resurrection of Christ is a sure pledge to us of our blessed resurrection.[15]

By his resurrection, his departure from hell, his conquering death, Christ offers us a share of what he has obtained in his death and being raised to new life, we receive the pledge, the promise of our resurrection.

Yes, I like Lucille’s style. She asks what it means that the disciples cannot come where he is going. By the Confessions we learn that Lucille’s question about hell has wonderful and glorious insights. You see, because of the life, death, and resurrection of Christ, the redeemed church, the blessed people of God will not be found in Hell because Jesus went there so we would not have to. Jesus conquered hell so that we would not have to follow.

We read this in The Revelation of John today:

“Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying,

‘See, the home of God is among mortals.
He will dwell with them as their God;
they will be his peoples,
and God himself will be with them;
he will wipe every tear from their eyes.
Death will be no more;
mourning and crying and pain will be no more,
for the first things have passed away.’

And the one who was seated on the throne said, ‘See, I am making all things new.’”

The next question, the one that matters for us today, is “So what does this mean to us?” How’s this for the quick answer: No matter how horrible, how terrible, how painful and how terrified our lives become, Jesus has been there. Jesus has conquered life and death that bad and worse. With thanksgiving, I have great hope in this; Jesus knows how bad I feel, how difficult life is; and has nothing but grace and peace for me. With thanksgiving, we have great hope in this; Jesus knows how bad we feel, how difficult our lives are; and has nothing but grace and peace for us. How’s that.

In Christ, because he descended into hell, death will be no more. Mourning and crying and pain will be no more.

This is the peace we are to share with one another and the world. Jesus says, “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.

We receive the love of Jesus Christ that comes from hell and back. We receive the love of Jesus Christ that was refined in the fiery torment on the day between Good Friday and Easter Sunday, a Saturday not like any other Saturday. This is the love that we are called to share with one another and the stranger in our midst. We are called to join the stranger in their walk through their hell for the heavenly cause.[16]

We may say it’s not easy to live that way today, but honestly, humanity didn’t make it easy for Jesus either. But by the powerful grace, peace and love of Jesus Christ, it is our call, our vocation, and in that way we will know we are his disciples; and the world will know we are his disciples.

[1] Note: I resisted adding the joke that Paul played “the original Caesar’s Palace.
[2] John 19:26-27
[3] Acts 7:54-60
[4] St. Peter, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saint_Peter, retrieved May 2, 2010.
[5] St. Andrew, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saint_Andrew, retrieved May 2, 2010.
[6] Gehenna, Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible
[7] Note: Is this the only answer to the question of where Jesus went where the disciples could not follow? The Right Hand of God is another viable answer. God’s imagination is far better than mine, but I like this answer and think we should explore it.
[8] The Book of Confessions, The Constitution of the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.), Part I. Louisville, KY: The General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.), 2004, page 2.
[9] Ibid, page 6.
[10] Ibid, pages 118-119.
[11] Ibid, page 201, Book of Confessions section 7.160.
[12] Ibid, page 28.
[13] Ibid, page 35, Book of Confessions section 4.043
[14] Ibid, page 35, Book of Confessions section 4.044
[15] Ibid, page 35, Book of Confessions section 4.045
[16] Paraphrase from Leigh, Mitch and Darion, Joe. “The Impossible Dream (The Quest)” from “The Man of La Mancha.” 1965.

Jesus Weeps

This sermon was heard at the First Presbyterian Church in Berryville, Arkansas on Sunday November 1, 2009, All Saints' Day.

Isaiah 25:6-9
Psalm 24
Revelation 21:1-6a
John 11:32-44

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen

Last week, our gospel reading was the glorious story of Blind Bartimaeus, a man who was shunned by the people because of his blindness. Bartimaeus was a beggar on the road between Jericho and Jerusalem. He made a living being a nuisance to travelers. He lived a dirty life in a dangerous place on the margins of society.

Jesus called him, beckoned Bartimaeus to come to him. Leaving his old life behind with his cloak, Bartimaeus sprang up and came to Jesus. Bartimaeus receives two gifts, the first is his sight. The second gift he receives is the unconditional presence of the Lord. Bartimaeus is now and forever in the presence of the Lord. Every time we tell this story it is true. Every time we tell this story Bartimaeus is with Jesus. Every time we tell this story it is as true in the eternal sense, now as much as then, Bartimaeus is with Jesus.

This is an example of what we are promised in the words of the prophet. Isaiah prophesies, Isaiah promises:

Then the Lord GOD will wipe away the tears from all faces,
and the disgrace of his people he will take away from all the earth,
for the LORD has spoken.
It will be said on that day,
Lo, this is our God; we have waited for him, so that he might save us.
This is the LORD for whom we have waited;
let us be glad and rejoice in his salvation.

This is an example of what we are promised in the words of John the Revelator.

And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying,

“See, the home of God is among mortals.
He will dwell with them as their God;
they will be his peoples,
and God himself will be with them;
he will wipe every tear from their eyes.
Death will be no more;
mourning and crying and pain will be no more,
for the first things have passed away.”

And the one who was seated on the throne said, “See, I am making all things new.”

These promises are wonderful, and they are glorious. They are lived by Bartimaeus who lives in the words of Isaiah, walking beside Jesus, his tears wiped from his face. His disgrace nothing but a distant memory the moment that Jesus gives him the two greatest gifts he can receive, sight in his eyes and God’s own presence in his life now and forever.

The sorrow and mourning Bartimaeus knew were wiped from his eyes with the coming promise of the Revelation that the first things have passed away. It is the next thing, life in the presence of the Lord that is now his by the grace of Christ Jesus.

The lesson of Bartimaeus is revealed in the promises made in prophecy. They remind us that God is in this world, the Lord is with us.

We know, we have faith, it has been revealed that there will be no more death, or mourning or crying or pain. The entire old order of things has passed away. The things that cause us to feel grief and pain released like dust in the wind.

This is where we can run into some trouble. It’s not that this isn’t true, it is. But just as it is true that the victory of Christ was won on the cross through his blood; there is still pain and grief and sorrow in this world.

Eugene Peterson wrote this for the introduction to Michael Card’s book, “A Sacred Sorrow, Reaching Out to God in the Lost Language of Lament.”

A number of years ago my mother died in Montana. My brother and sister, our spouses and children, gathered and prepared for the service of worship in which we would place our grief for her death and gratitude for her life before God. As the first-born I was appointed to conduct the funeral…I began reading Scriptures—several psalms, Isaiah’s strong words of comfort, Jesus’ parting words to His disciples, Paul’s archi-tec-tonic Romans 8, John’s final vision of heaven. I had done this scores of times over many years and have always loved doing it, saying again these powerful, honest words that give such enormous dignity to death and our tears. While reading, the air now thin between time and eternity, without warning lament surged within me. I tried to keep my composure and then just let it go…

The benediction pronounced, I ducked quickly into a small room just off the chancel. I didn’t want to see or talk to anyone. My twenty-two-year-old daughter slipped in beside me. We sat together, quiet and weeping our own “sacred sorrow.” And then a man I’d never seen before entered and sat down. He put his arm across my shoulder and spoke some preacherish clichés in a preacherish tone. Then, mercifully, he left. I said to my daughter, “Karen, I hope I’ve never done that to anybody.” She said, “Oh, Daddy, I don’t think you have ever done that.” I hope not.[1]

When we use these words of assurance to remember the promises of God that’s one thing, but when we use them as magic words to calm someone down so our pain is relieved, well, that’s the worst thing we can do.

There is an ancient theological concept that was greatly influenced by an even more ancient philosophical concept known as apatheia; it’s the root of our word apathy. The concept of apatheia allows us to define “God as one whose perfection leaves God unaffected by the contingencies and circumstances of the created order.”[2] John Calvin used this principle as a way to explain that the emotions attributed to God like the ones in this passage from John are the just way Scripture expresses what is truly incomprehensible in a way we can begin to understand.

To paraphrase this using the slang of a few years back: Divine emotion? It’s a God thing, you wouldn’t understand.

As for me, I don’t really understand that concept as it pertains to the Lord, and particularly not as it pertains to the fully human and fully divine Jesus of Nazareth. We read that because of the death of his dear friend Lazarus, Jesus is deeply disturbed in spirit. We read that Jesus is deeply moved. We read later again that Jesus is deeply disturbed. The Jews could even see that Jesus deeply loved Lazarus.

We read that Jesus began to weep.[3] Honestly though, I prefer the traditional translation of this verse, Jesus wept. Jesus was so overwhelmed that he wept at the loss of his friend. Jesus knew what he would do, and he knew what he would do for the glory of God for the sake of the crowd standing there; so that they may believe that it was the Father who sent the Son. Still, Jesus wept.

Jesus knew the pain. Jesus knew the grief. Jesus knew the sorrow. Jesus was overwhelmed.

Jesus knew the prophecy of Isaiah. Jesus knew the tears of the mourners would be wiped away. Jesus knew the extravagant grace and peace which comes from the glory seat of the Lord God Almighty would be known by his work.

Jesus knew the glory of the new heaven and the new earth; the glory made possible by the passing of the first heaven and the first earth. Jesus knew the glory of the holy city, the new Jerusalem. Jesus knew these things because he is the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End. Jesus knew all of this and more than we could ever hope or imagine.

And Jesus wept.

Today as we celebrate All Saints’ Day, we celebrate those who have gone before us in the faith. Today we celebrate the life of Elizabeth Beck who played organ and provided music for worship for this part of the Body of Christ. We celebrate the life of Leah Chapman who was taken from this world all too soon. We celebrate the life of Raphael Mabry, and we celebrate the life of my mother Mary Margaret. We celebrate the lives of all of those who have preceded us onto the glory of God. As we celebrate their lives, and the richness that fills our lives because of them, we too mourn. We shed a tear as we smile. We weep.

We are the recipients, the heirs of these glorious promises; promises of peace, promises of grace. We have a confidence in the prophecies and we have confidence in Christ. By Christ, the kingdom of God is here; the kingdom of God is now. Still, we know by the realities of sin and life that the kingdom is not yet fully here, it is not yet. There is sorrow and there is mourning. In this not yet, Jesus weeps. Jesus who knows the fulfillment of the promises weeps with Martha and Mary. And Jesus weeps with us too.

[1] Card, Michael, “A Sacred Sorrow, Reaching Out to God in the Lost Language of Lament.” Introduction by Eugene Peterson. Colorado Springs: NavPress, 2005, pages 11-12.
[2] “Feasting on the Word.” David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, Editors. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009, page 236.
[3] John 11:35, New Revised Standard Version. This is the version we use in worship.