Sermon - 2nd Sunday of Easter - Year A

John 20:19-31

                         Experiencing the post-Easter Jesus 

This Sunday’s sermon is all about redeeming the reputation of Thomas.  He gets unfairly accused of things and given uncomplimentary titles.  It is okay to refer to Thomas as “the twin,” but let’s find a way to stop referring to him as “Doubting.” 

You know the story.  I just reread it to you.  I am not attempting to rewrite Holy Scripture, but I do intend a full on assault as to what this scriptural story is trying to tell us.  This story should not be heard as a condemnation of those who ask to see or be shown.  The story expresses the absolute absurdity of anyone coming to faith if they weren’t in that upper room on one of those two occasions.

In one of the on-line small group gatherings this week, a participant began a defense of Thomas.  “He only wanted to see what the others had already seen!”  was the comment.  The defender added a tag line I thought to be interesting.  It was something along the lines of “Why should Thomas be left out of encountering Jesus just because he was the one that had left the upper room to get groceries for everyone else?” 

The story is very clear.  Those who speak to Thomas, encouraging him to believe what they had come to believe, had been there when Jesus came.  They had experienced Jesus’ presence.  Thomas has not.  As the aforementioned defender pointed out – who is to say that any one of the other ten would have responded differently if they had been the one running errands?

I knew that this story of Thomas was coming.  So I have made subtle references to this account in two previous sermons.  Three weeks ago, when we talked about the raising of Lazarus from the dead, it is Thomas who convinces the other Disciples they ought to go with Jesus to Judea, even though going there is likely result in death.  I managed to slip it in again last week – when I was asking how willing we are to follow Jesus.  Thomas is a model of what it means to remain by Jesus’ side

The story is clear.  The other disciples have an experience of the resurrected Jesus.  Thomas does not.  When they tell him of their experience, he insists that he too must experience the post-Easter Jesus. 

And this is the true redemption of Thomas’ reputation:  None of us, neary a single one of us, no one from the beginning of the Way called “Christian” has ever joined the ranks of followers unless and until they too have an experience with the post-Easter Jesus.  We don’t follow because of some impressive story or well documented series of events.  One joins the ranks of “believers” when one has an encounter, an experience with the Jesus who destroys death and emerges victorious from the grave.

 Did I say that clearly enough?  Let me try again:  there is no way for anyone to “come to believe” unless they put their fingers in the marks of the nails and their hand in Jesus’ side.

You don’t start to follow Jesus or believe in Jesus or trust Jesus as a result of what someone tells you – NO ONE DOES!  Someone might tell you about their encounter with Jesus and it might intrigue you enough to encourage you to hang around and start to seek an experience of your own – but until you have that experience the greatest story ever told is just that – an interesting story.

It is a misreading of John 20 when Thomas is chastised and made a scapegoat.  We fail to receive the Good News when we allow verses 19-25 to become a warning against failing to believe what someone else is trying to tell us.  The Good News of John chapter 20 is that Jesus hears our request and comes back in order to provide the encounter which will make it possible for us to believe and to follow and to trust.

Now, this is where the story does need to be taken a bit metaphorically.  Our post-Easter encounter with Jesus is not likely to involve the same moving parts as recorded here.  Our encounter with the post-Easter Jesus won’t be with the body which walked the streets of Jerusalem.  But we have each had our post-Easter encounter, or we wouldn’t be joining in this morning.

One of mine came the night I asked my parents why the card we were handed at the funeral home had Psalm 23 printed on the back.  They spoke to me of the comfort those words brought them.  Around the same time, my mother took me out of school to attend the funeral of a dear friend.  My mother held my hand – tightly - as the daughter of her friend cried and begged them not to put her mother in the ground.  I asked Momma why she was saying those things.  Momma said to me “Those who don’t know Jesus’ love have a more difficult time facing death.” 

Another post-Easter encounter came the day I entered the home of a twelve-year old boy who had showed up at a 4-H workshop.  His father told me I was wasting my time, trying to help that boy.  I was only eighteen and frightened to be the child’s neighborhood.  But sitting in the living room and working together on his public speech was an experience I will never forget.

John 20 is not a condemnation of those who won’t accept the idle tale of another.  John 20 is an invitation to name and celebrate and share the post-Easter encounters which have brought into our lives the assurance and confidence and joy of knowing that the grave could not hold Jesus and that the grave won’t hold us – either.  John 20 is the assurance that Jesus will hear our need for such experiences and that he will come back as often as he must to make sure we experience the love which lifted him out of death’s grip.

How have you experienced the post-Easter Jesus?  Where have you come to know the love of God and come to understand that love as trustworthy and true?  Others are invited to experience the post-Easter Jesus through the behaviors and life-style choices of those who have already come to believe (or it would be better to refer to us as those who have come to know.)

The post-Easter Jesus may be seen in the person wearing a face mask during COVID-19.  It is a promise that the one with the mask will not run the risk of unknowingly being a carrier of the virus, spreading the droplets which will lead to another’s death.

The post-Easter Jesus is experienced when I give up my luxury of doing whatever I want whenever I want out of a realization that the privilege of my desires place so many others in a position of servitude.

The post-Easter Jesus is experienced when I refuse to join in the name-calling and degradation of others which seems to be way to accepted and acceptable in our culture.

The post-Easter Jesus is experienced when a child is provided protection and allowed to feel confident they won’t go hungry or experience homelessness or be sickened due to lack of healthcare.

Let’s redeem Thomas’ reputation.  Let’s acknowledge that every one of us has had an encounter with the post-Easter Jesus or we would not be here today.  And let’s learn to speak of those experience in such a way that others are invited to identify their experiences of Jesus.  And finally, most importantly, let’s remember that others will only come to believe when they see that encountering the resurrected Jesus results in real-life changes.   Their chance to place fingers in the mark of the nails comes through us and the ways in which we allow them to see Jesus.

Amen.

Sermon - Easter Day - Year A

Matthew 28:1-10

                                                  

Christ is Risen!   Christ is Risen indeed!

I am going to ramble on for a few sentences, but my chatter is merely background noise as you speak with those around you of of the signs of Easter which have come to you this morning.  Only a few of us are gathered here, inside this structure – too empty to be thought of as “the church,” and too enclosed to think of it as the place where Jesus’ resurrection is to be experienced.

What are the experiences of Easter which have come into your life this morning?  Was it the greeting of a loved one - reminding you that the bond which holds you together is able to meet all challenges because it is rooted in the promises of God?  I did have the luxury of coming to Augusta Street this morning.  I will tell you that the cross on the front lawn is absolutely gorgeous!  I hope many of you will drive over this day and continue the tradition of a family photo by the cross.  As I drove on Augusta Street, I saw that lovely cross as a sign of the faith and commitment and community which is St. Michael.  Those of us who come for worship only see that cross for a few minutes.  But it is there all day and all night as a sign for those who pass by.  A sign of Easter’s promise and gift for every one of God’s children. 

What are the places where you have seen Easter this morning?  Experienced Easter this morning?  Felt the celebration which is Easter?

I remember some of the Easters of my sixty-three years.  Like the Easter when the sexton mistook the children’s paper mâché tomb for a bit of trash.  Pastor Iddings modified his opening line for the sunrise service.  “Christ has risen!”  he announced.  Then quickly added, “And has taken his tomb with him!”

I remember the Easter after my mother died. 

I remember the two Easters I was able to observe in Wittenberg, Germany.  Worshipping in the church where Martin Luther served as preacher.

And, without a doubt, I am going to remember this Easter.  For many reasons. 

One reason is because of the ways in which this Easter is more like any of the previous Easter’s I have known.  I have seen glorious signs of Christ’s resurrection this morning, but there is this anxiousness all around.  Worship is never to be a distraction from the concerns of the world.  In particular, the Kyrie is an acknowledgement that all of those concerns come with us and are present with us as come into God’s presence.  Worship is not a distraction from the concerns of the world – it is an announcement that those concerns will not rule the day.  That no matter what threatens us there is something else bigger and better and stronger.  It is okay, in worship, to acknowledge how frightening it is – this world in which we live. 

This Easter is more like the first Easter in that while Jesus followers were beginning to realize the wonderful gift God was giving them, that morning they too were caught up in nervousness and anxiety.   It took them a while to get over their worry and their fear.  On Easter morning, they were filled with questions.

I know, and you know, that there will come a day when COVID-19 is under control and we can joyously gather anytime we want, with as many as we choose.  Oh, I long for that day!  (Can I get an “Amen”!)  But on this Easter morning, we aren’t there.  We are in a place more like the place where Peter and Matthew and Andrew and Thomas found themselves.

I will long remember this Easter.  It is the Easter most like the first Easter.

The gift of the internet allows me to be with a wider circle of you this morning.  It has been amazing how connected I come to feel through these live sharing’s.  And I hear from many of you that you are amazed too.  We are connected.  But there are only a few around us.  A very few.

Again, very much like that first Easter. 

We have come to associate Easter morning with big gatherings, egg hunts, huge meals, new outfits.  The first Easter was Mary Magdalene and the other Mary all alone on their way to the tomb.  Somewhere else there were eleven disciples, gathered and hiding in a dark upper room.  That first Easter wasn’t a time for impressive oratory or incredible music.  It was a small family unit gathered together and talking with one another about what all of this might mean. 

Please allow me to tell you that the greatest signs of Easter I have seen are in the short video clips I have collected and put on my laptop so Reid can point the cellphone camera that way as the small group of us who are here share bread and cup.  Those video clips are a sign and testament to where the experience of Jesus is the most powerful and long-lasting.  Easter occurs in our interactions with others.  Easter occurs when Jesus comes to life in the midst of our daily life. 

We only need to gather in this building in order to train and sustain the kind of sharing that this Easter has forced upon us.

I will never forget this Easter, and watching as families share a loaf of bread a cup and spoke to one another the promise Jesus makes it clear that whenever and wherever we share in this way - he is there with us. 

Where have you experienced Easter this morning?  Where do you see the signs that Easter has come?

I am grateful for the ways in which this Easter has allowed me to see in new ways what it means to proclaim that Christ has risen.  I will always remember sharing this Easter with you.  My prayer is that you will remember, too.  And give thanks.  And that you will allow that small kernel of confidence taking root in your heart an opportunity to sprout and leaf and grow and to produce the fruit which is bigger and stronger and more capable than any thing which might foolishly attempt to separate us from the love of God.

Christ is Risen!  Christ is Risen Indeed!           Amen.

Sermon - Maundy Thursday

John 13:1- 17, 31b-35   

Love – As I have Loved You

Maundy Thursday takes its name from the commandment that Jesus gives to his disciples on this, the final day of his life.  “Maundy” is the middle English pronunciation of the Latin word for “commandment.”   Jesus calls it a “new” commandment.  But it really isn’t new.  It is the heart of so much of what he has said and lived during his time among us. 

Maybe he calls it “new” because this is he wants his disciples to remember, and to do, above all else.   Jesus says to his disciples, “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another.  Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.” 

This is the commandment (the maundy) for which this Thursday is known.

“Love one another.  Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.”  

Earlier in his ministry, when asked which of the previous commandments ought to be considered the “greatest,” Jesus lifts up love of God and loving one’s neighbor as oneself.  Jesus is careful to root this “new commandment” at the very heart of what God’s people have been about from the very beginning.  Here, on the last night he will spend with his disciples, he returns to the same theme.  He instructs them that what he expects of them is that they will love.  That they will love as he has first loved us.

To follow this to a conclusion, two points need to be made.  The first has to do with the way Jesus loves.   What is meant when he says, “Love, as I have loved you”?  The second point is to ask the question (the painful question) of whether it can truly be said that we do emulate this love.

First point - the love with which Jesus loved is a love that is giving and self-sacrificing.  Let’s remember that as he spoke these words, Jesus is just hours from being betrayed into the hands of those who would orchestrate his death.  This is the model he gives us for loving.

And we see this model, not only on Good Friday, but throughout his life and ministry.  Remember the Gospel accounts of Jesus’ attempt to withdraw from the crowds.  He tries to get away, to a quite place.  He travels across the sea only to discover that the crowd has rushed around the shore in order to be there when he reaches the other side.

It was only two Sundays ago that we read of Jesus’ decision to return to Bethany, even though the crowds there were looking for ways to silence him.  Thomas (sometimes called “Doubting Thomas”) captures the seriousness of Jesus’ love in saying, “Let us go and die with him.”

The love with which Jesus loved is selfless and self-sacrificing.  He gives all that he has.

I think about this, whenever we have to work so hard to line folks up for a service project.  St. Michael seemed to have covered all of our shifts at last fall’s pumpkin patch.  But the overall response was so low that the patch won’t happen this fall.  Homelessness has not gone away in Greenville – we have simply emptied out the areas were so many were setting up illegal shelters.  What this congregation does though backpack buddies is impressive, but where is the activism with regard to the underlying causes of poverty?

We are tired; and we are overworked.  And the thought of doing even more might be the thought which shoves us too close to our limits. 

But how much of this exhaustion comes from the tasks which advance our own careers or aspirations?  Are our schedules full because we are seeking ways in which we can be of serve to others, or are they jam packed with the drive to acquire more and more stuff?

The love, with which Jesus loves, leads him to the cross.  Are we willing to follow where he has lead?   Seems doubtful when we can’t even get a handful willing to sacrifice a Saturday a month in order to work on a Habitat house.

I don’t mean to overlook or to ignore the sacrificial acts performed on behalf of family members.  So many of you are caring for ailing spouses or parents.  There is great attention given to the raising of children.  Such self-giving acts are certainly a reflection of the love with Christ has first loved us.  We do reflect the love of Jesus when we provide care for those to whom we are intimately connected.  The concern is whether the circumference of our circle of love ends there.

In a separate biblical story, a young man tries to justify his narrowing of the circle of care.  He asks Jesus to define “neighbor.”  In that story, Jesus makes it clear that neighbors are not simply those who own the house next to us or sit beside us in worship.  Jesus speaks of neighbor as anyone we encounter – especially someone who is in need of our help.

We do a pretty good job of loving those whose lives are connected to our own.  It is admirable and honorable to take care of and protect one’s family.   And no one is more popular than the guy next door who helps us blow our leaves, collects our mail when we are out of town, and comes over to ask snoopy questions when a stranger shows up at a time when we are away.  But the circle of Jesus’ love is much wider.  He has compassion on all those whom he sees.  He cries over all the inhabitants of Jerusalem.  He dies for the sake of all creation. 

I am coming to the conclusion that it is easier to follow the command to “Preach Jesus” than it is to follow the command of Jesus.  It is simple to believe in our hearts and confess with our lips that Jesus is Lord.  What is hard, what is trough, what really divides the sheep from the goats is when it comes to loving one another with the love with which Jesus has first loved us.  The difficult question, the tough question, the question which embarrasses us is the one which asks whether we are offering to others the love with which Jesus has first loved us.  It is easy to say we love the Lord.  It is another thing all together to love doing what it is that our Lord did.

Jesus says to his disciples, “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another.  Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.” 

Amen

Mid-Week Worship - Pride

                                                                         Pride

  

When we settled on this Lenten series of The Seven Sins, we saved Pride for last.  For most writers, Pride is seen as the deadliest of the sins.  It is seen as intertwined with many of the other six.  And it is considered the most difficult to root out and overcome.

Pride is so prevalent and insidious in our culture that everyone knows God’s word regarding pride.  You do too, I am sure.  Quote with me Proverbs 16:18. “Pride goeth before the fall.”

David Owen writes that pride coupled with immense power allows certain persons to “become irrationally self-confident in their own abilities, increasingly reluctant to listen to the advice of others and progressively more impulsive in their actions.”  This is what pride, left unchecked, unleashes on the world for which Jesus gave his life.

Pride is the absolute lack of humility.  Pride is the inability and unwillingness to even consider the possibility that one may be in error or might not be in full possession of every conceivable human attribute.

Pride does goeth before the fall.

When we assigned Pride to this, the final Wednesday of Lent, we had no idea we would be talking about pride at a time when unchecked hubris is becoming deadly for so many of our neighbors, for so many of our brothers and sisters.  Were we not prideful, four weeks ago, when we continued to suffer under the illusion that a tinny-tiny virus could dismantle and overwhelm the structures which we had built in order to make a name for ourselves?  Did we not allow ourselves to think that we could handle this, and that it would not do to us what it had done to others.

Let me crystal clear – I do not, have not, and never will subscribe to the theological assertion that God uses something like a virus to punish us.  There are Christians and there are theologians who make such assertions and while they can find verses and writings to bolster their arguments, I will never agree with them.

But I do firmly believe that when our vices and our ungodly drives get out of control there are consequences to our actions.  Consequences brought on by physics and biochemistry. 

COVID-19 has proven to be such a consequence.  And we are all living through the disastrous results of thinking we were too smart or to healthy or too prepared for what has happened in other parts of the world for it to happen here.

I do not, have not, and never will subscribe to the notion that God is punishing us for our hubris.  But I do think our prideful traits have impeded our ability to act in ways which enhance life and hold sacred the life of each and every of God’s children.

When I was writing sermons on the previous deadly sins, I found myself speaking of the ways those transgressions had taken hold in our lives.  Sometimes, oftentimes, unknowingly.   I have no need, nor any desire to do this with regard to pride.  We are all living through a time in human history which makes it unnecessary to wonder if we are aware of our hubris.  Of course we are.  And we are frightened by our own tolerance of thinking ourselves capable of building our own modern-day version of a Tower of Babel. 

The mediation this day is not to make sure we are aware of our pride but to assure each of us that confession is always met by God’s assurance of forgiveness.  Let us confess, and let us cry out to God, and allow me to lead you in the prayers of repentance. 

We have “become irrationally self-confident in (our) own abilities, increasingly reluctant to listen to the advice of others and progressively more impulsive in (our) actions.”  And the consequences of our pride are proving deadly.  To our neighbors.  And to our brothers and sisters.

Let us confess, and let us repent, before the list of consequences grows longer, perhaps even to include our willingness to return to God and our capacity to trust in God rather than the devices and machines and mechanisms pieced together with our feeble human hands.

Humility is the beginning of wisdom.  Pride goeth before the fall.

Amen.