Sunday, April 24, 2016

An Earth Day Sermon on Revelation 21:1-6 and John 13:31-35

“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.” There is, I think, no better text for Earth Day then this morning’s reading from Revelation. The entire book of Revelation can really be read as a rallying cry for environmental theology, but the hope is best summed up in these six verses from the end of the book. “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.”

Before we get into the meat of this passage, what it is and why I think it’s such a great passage for Earth Day, let’s talk a little bit about the background of the book of Revelation. Because Revelation is a pretty loaded book, it’s dense and graphic and really really hard to understand. And what’s often left out of the discussion is that Revelation is dense and coded for a reason, it is thinly veiled political criticism at a time when speaking out again the political structure was a death sentence. The writing of Revelation is generally placed around the reign of the emperor Domitian, though emperor Nero is alluded to throughout. Both Nero and Domitian were megalomaniacal rulers obsessed with their own power and control. And any dissenting opinions, such as this small group who refused to worship the imperial power, claiming instead allegiance only and entirely to the One True God, was met with harsh persecution.

It is this atmosphere of control and fear that the writer of Revelation is addressing. Revelation is written to assure this community that yes, even though the all-mighty Roman Empire, this terrifying beast with seven heads, seems to have unspeakable power, the Lamb of God is stronger, is already in control, and in fact has already conquered. This time of fear, uncertainty, and pain that marks your current experience is only the uncomfortable already and not yet of the human experience. Already Christ has triumphed but not yet has that triumph been revealed, and while this in-between time, this liminal space, is uncomfortable and frightening, even within it we can rejoice, because we know that the end of the story is the glorious reign of God.

Two-thousand years later, almighty Rome no longer rules over us in fear, but still I think these beautiful and powerful words of Revelation bring us hope in the midst of an uncertain future. Because the science is really no longer in question. From the waters of creation God formed this planet which God called good, and set us as caretakers over it. And instead we have fouled the water, polluted the air, and set forth a chain of events that have literally shook the world from its axis. I read an article in the Enquirer a few months ago about how the melting polar ice caps have actually shifted the geographic location of the north and south poles several centimeters since 2005. If you follow the Doomsday Clock, the symbolic clock face used by atomic scientists following the creation of the atomic bomb to represent the possibility of global catastrophe, you know that in 2015, the clock moved two minutes forward to 11:57, the closest it’s been to midnight since 1984, in response to the instability caused by the threat of global climate change. With a problem so big, and us so small, where do we find hope in the midst of this increasingly terrifying reality? Here’s where Revelation comes in.

“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.” This vision from Revelation tells of the new Jerusalem coming down to dwell among us. This new heaven and new earth that Revelation talks about is not some far-off vision beyond the galaxies, it is a new creation born in the midst of the old. It is resurrection walking out of a sealed off tomb, it is new life born in the very midst of death.

We read this in the Easter season because this is the Easter story. The first heaven and the first earth passed away on a dark Good Friday, when Jesus breathed his last and the world boomed from the sound of a stone rolling against the door of a garden tomb. And then, inexplicably, three days later the women came to the tomb of death and found that that same stone had been rolled away, and the emptiness that remained was the promise of new life.

Resurrection, the empty tomb, this New Jerusalem coming down to us, we see this played out in many and varied ways right in front of our eyes. The redemption of creation through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ is the central revelation of the way God works in the world, as one who brings life out of death. Built into the very fibers of creation is this incredible capacity for healing. Even in the midst of death, signs of God’s redemption are visible in our world. Maybe you remember the 1980s discovery of a hole in the ozone layer twice the size of the United States. Since the discovery, the world launched an effort to halt the growth of this hole, including banning chlorofluorocarbons, the chemical that causes ozone depletion, from being released into the air. Last year, NASA released a report saying that the effort was working. The ozone has begun to repair itself, and by the end of the century should in fact be completely healed. On an even more local scale, think of the healing of the Kalamazoo river following the oil spill in 2010. Is it perfect, no, but huge strides have been made in healing the river and restoring it to new life. The ozone layer and the Kalamazoo river are physical examples of the truth we claim everyday as followers of the resurrected Jesus, that the worst thing that can happen is never the last thing that will happen, but God is always at work restoring God’s creation, bringing new life in the midst of death, and bringing the promised new heaven and new earth among us, a new Jerusalem come down to us where God dwells in and among God’s people. This isn’t a promise for some far-off someday, this is God among us now, here, in the flesh. Even as the world is broken, even as we wait for the promised not yet of God’s kingdom come, the signs of this new life among us are already present in our world today. Through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, we know that God is already here, and even as we live in a not yet redeemed world, we rejoice in the promise of God’s already presence.

And because we know that through Jesus Christ the redemption of the world has already happened, our salvation is already at hand, we can be about the work of redeeming God’s creation, because we know that resurrection is already here. Our Gospel reading for this morning is from the Last Supper, Jesus’ last words to his disciples before he went to the cross. After Judas left to betray Jesus, Jesus told the remaining disciples, “now the Son of Man has been glorified and God has been glorified in him.” Judas’ leaving to betray him marked the glorification of God, because the glorification of God is revealed on the cross, in a God who died so that death itself might be defeated. That work is done already, it is not ours to do. Jesus told the disciples, “Where I am going, you cannot come,” because the work of redemption was completed on the cross. The work for us now is this new commandment of what it means to be about the work of Jesus in the time after the completion of redemption, to love one another, this expansive, all consuming one another that encompasses the whole of creation, just as we were, are, loved by Jesus.

The work is done, redemption is complete, resurrection is among us, but Jesus does not leave us with nothing to do. Jesus knows us well enough to know that we are restless people, we want to be about the work of God, we want to get our hands dirty in the world of resurrection. God gave us the job of caring for God’s world at the very birth of creation, and though we get it wrong so often, our hearts yearn for the opportunity to try again, to start again, to once again be about the work of living in the path God has set for us. And so, in the verses that follow our Gospel reading for this morning, Jesus will nuance for the disciples the task ahead. Simon Peter challenged Jesus, what do you mean where you are going we cannot come, “Lord, where are you going?” To which Jesus replied, “where I am going, you cannot follow me now, but you will follow afterward.”

The vision laid out in Revelation, a new heaven and a new earth, the new Jerusalem coming down from above, that vision can fill us with hope of the promise of God’s new creation just as it filled those early Christians with hope. God is already in the midst of us, bringing in the midst of our world the promise of a new creation. And what’s more, we get to be about the work of redeeming God’s creation. What God has already done in Jesus Christ, we get to be about unveiling that great promise. The task of creation care is huge, but because redemption is already completed in Jesus, we know that resurrection is not just possible, but in fact is at hand.

And so, dear people of God. Let us be about the work that Jesus had called us to. Let us be about following after him, let us be about loving one another. Let us be about recycling and writing our leaders to advocate for our planet and gardening and living lower on the food chain. Let us be about clean water and clean air, food enough for all, and wondering in the plants and animals over which God appointed us as caretakers. All of these things and more are ways in which we can see signs of the new Jerusalem which God is unveiling in our midst. Dear people of God, we are resurrection people, we are new life people. We are people who know that the way God works in the world is to bring about new life and hope and light and forgiveness from the darkest and most unexpected of places. Resurrection is at hand, the new Jerusalem is among us. Dear people of God, the new heaven and new earth are here, let us rejoice in the work to which we have been called, showing forth God’s redeeming powers to all creation. Amen.

Monday, April 18, 2016

I Just [Don't Really, Actually] Wanna Be a Sheep: A Sermon on John 10:22-30

One of my favorite classic Sunday school songs is the Sheep Song. I discovered this week that most of you don’t know the Sheep Song, so it seems important that we remedy that right now. First, the most important part of the Sheep Song is the ears. Take your hands, and hold them up by your head like this, to make some ears. Now the song goes like this:

I just wanna be a sheep. Ba-ba-ba-ba.
I just wanna be a sheep. Ba-ba-ba-ba.
And I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
I just wanna be a sheep. Ba-ba-ba-ba.

Now that I’ve taught you all the song, I should warn you that this little earworm is quite catchy, and you will be singing it for the next week. You’re welcome. This song is great because if your Sunday school lesson went short, it’s got like five verses, all based on bad puns. Like, I don’t want to be a hypocrite, cause they’re not hip with it. I don’t want to be a Pharisee, cause they’re not fair, you see. I don’t want to be from Babylon, cause they just babble on and on and on. The song can go on forever.

It’s a great song, and there really is nothing cuter than a room full of five-year-olds making sheep ears, but I do wonder how true it is. Because I have to wonder, do we really want to be sheep? I like the romantic notion of being Jesus’ sheep, like it’s portrayed in the Sunday school posters, with fluffy white sheep on rich green grass, under a crystal blue sky. It’s always sunny in Sunday school posters; do you notice that? And the sheep are frolicking around, and Jesus is watching them, with a gentle smile on his face, and everything has this bucolic calm.

The problem, of course, is that expectation almost never matches reality. Take the kindergarten Sunday school class singing the Sheep song that I described. I bet you imagined them all sitting quietly in their seats, hands up to their ears, singing in their sweet, high voices. The reality, if you’ve ever taught a kindergarten Sunday school, you know, was closer to me singing the sheep song by myself while two of them tried to hit each other with their sheep ears, and a third ate glue. Sheep life is closer to that. We imagine calm, serene pastures and following a shepherd who’s leading you clearly and is easy to follow. But sheep life is closer to rough, dry scrub grass, storms that blow off the Mediterranean out of nowhere, and straining to hear the voice of your shepherd over the bleating of sheep. Sometimes you can’t see or hear the shepherd, you’re just following the sheep in front of you, hoping it’s going the right way. I don’t like blind following, I don’t like being at the mercy of someone I cannot always see, I like to control my own route, my own destiny, and I’m pretty sure I don’t, in fact, want to be a sheep. I think I would find the experience out of control and terrifying.

Misplaced expectations and a feeling of being out of control is I think what’s driving the interaction between Jesus and the crowd in our Gospel reading for this morning. The text again says the Jews, but remember this is Judea, everyone, including Jesus, is Jewish. Based on the location in the Temple, I think the distinction being made with the term Jew here refers to the religious leaders. People who would have understood themselves to be shepherds in their own way, responsible for keeping the people of Judea safe from the wolves of the Roman Empire. Every day of their lives they walked a fine balancing act, trying to keep the people faithful to their religious traditions while flying just enough under the radar to escape the attention of Rome. Their tradition had taught them that a messiah would come from the house of David, and he would deliver them from their enemies and raise them up to greatness again. And as the wolves of Rome crept closer and closer, their fear that the messiah would not come in time grew and grew. So when the leaders came across Jesus in the temple, they were fed up with his confusing mixed messages. How long will you keep us in suspense, they asked. If you are the Messiah, tell us plainly.

The leaders couldn’t tell who Jesus was, because what he was doing was so different from their expectations. They expected a conqueror king in the model of David, someone who would raise up a mighty army, charge into Jerusalem, and topple the corrupt leadership, bringing about a great day of peace and prosperity. Jesus was doing a lot of great things, performing signs, healing, and teaching, but he wasn’t raising an army, he wasn’t charging the gates of the city, and the leaders were getting sick of waiting.

Jesus responded, “My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me. No one can snatch them from my hand.” If you read further along in chapter ten, you’ll notice that this really did not satisfy the religious leaders. In fact, the end part when Jesus told them he and the Father were one, really ticked them off. They didn’t understand because their view of what Jesus was doing was too small. They wanted a conquering king who would save them from their current reality, but Jesus was a savior coming to deliver them for all eternity.

The leaders missed what Jesus was about, but that didn’t stop Jesus from continuing his journey to the cross, that didn’t stop Jesus from giving up his spirit, that didn’t stop Jesus from defeating death and rising again, so that the promise Jesus made to never lose a single one of his sheep would be fulfilled.

That is the good news this morning, dear people of God. That no matter how off our understandings may be, how far we may miss the voice in front of us, how dark the valley of the shadow of death, Jesus promises that nothing can ever snatch us away from his hand. Like the Jews in this Gospel, there is a big scary world out there. A world that wants to tell us that it is in control and we are not, that it has power and might, that it and it alone can protect us. You’ve heard those voices. They blast over news coverage, they whisper in the stillness, they are insidious and they can feel overpowering. And to those voices, the overwhelming, overpowering good news of Jesus Christ is that those voices are wrong. Because Jesus, the Good Shepherd is before us. Even when the rush of sheep is thick and we cannot hear his voice, still the Good Shepherd leads us on. Like we will sing in our psalm this morning, in valleys of the shadow of death and in the midst of our enemies, the Good Shepherd goes alongside us, guiding us, guarding us, protecting us, and leading us.

Being a sheep can feel out of control, but in this Gospel we have the promise that Jesus is always in control. However far our sheepiness may wander, Jesus promises that he will guide us, protect us, hold on to us, love us, and accompany us through life and even in death. Unwilling sheep though we may be, nothing, nothing will ever snatch us from his hands. Thanks be to God. Amen.

Thursday, April 14, 2016

Conversation Points for John 10:22-30

Study Format:
1. Read passage aloud. What did you notice in the reading? What words or phrase caught your attention?
2. Read passage aloud a second time. What questions would you ask the text?
3. Read passage aloud a third time. What do you hear God calling you to do or be in response to this text?

Interesting Ideas to Consider:
• Despite the passage of time (from the Feast of Tabernacles in late September/early October to the Feast of Dedication in December), John 10:22-30 is clearly an extension of the conversation Jesus started in John 10:1-21 about the issue of Jesus’ identity.
• The urge to “tell us plainly” (v. 24), is in contrast to Jesus having “used this figure of speech with them” in v. 6.
• v. 30 “The Father and I are one.” It is important to read this verse through the lens of Johannine theology. In the complex, convoluted debates of Christological controversies and Trinitarian doctrine that came out of the second through fourth centuries, this statement by Jesus is both simpler and more profound than that. Jesus is saying that he and God are united in the work they do. “It is impossible to distinguish Jesus’ work from God’s work… His unity with God thus provides the answer to the Messiah question; Jesus is both more than and other than traditional expectations for the Messiah. His power is not that of a political liberator who will restore Israel; it is the very power of God. God shares with Jesus God’s eschatological power over life, death, and judgment” (O’Day 677).

Works Sourced:
O’Day, Gail. “The Gospel of John.” The New Interpreter’s Bible Volume IX. Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 1995.

Monday, April 11, 2016

Space Sheets, Fish, and a Love that Will Not Quit: A Sermon on John 21:1-19

You may have caught on by now that I have a bit of a quirky sense of humor. My affinity for awkward things has been a hit-or-miss trait over the years. Sometimes it’s great, for example the cardboard box turned stable scene of Advent two years ago I thought was a glorious success. Other times, not so much. The summer before my freshman year of college I bought a set of glow-in-the-dark space sheets because I thought they were hilarious, not taking into account the sort of preconceptions that might be formed by an eighteen-year-old meeting their new roommate for the first time, and discovering said roommate had glow-in-the-dark space sheets. My freshman year roommate and I did end up becoming friends, though she did confess to me later that when she came in and saw my space sheets her first thought was, “this is going to be a long year.”

Good or bad, I think my appreciation for the quirky is why I love Peter so much as a biblical character. Peter is recklessly enthusiastic, he called Jesus Messiah, he pulled him aside and rebuked him, he declared his allegiance to Jesus even to death. When Jesus wanted to wash his feet, Peter first refused completely, and then begged to have not just his feet washed but his hands and his head. Peter is all in, one-hundred percent, whatever it is. I described Peter a few weeks ago of having the attention span of a four-year-old squirrel, and I think it is an even more apt description of this zealous disciple in today’s Gospel reading.

The reading starts out some unknown amount of time after the earlier resurrection appearances when the disciples are notably away from Jerusalem. The vagueness in time and the change of location are a gentle opening up of the resurrection appearances. No longer do we see Jesus bound to a specific place and time, but now wherever the disciples gather there is the possibility that Jesus might show up.

But the disciples did not know this yet. So, standing on the Sea of Tiberius, Peter announced to the others, “I’m going fishing.” “We’ll go with you,” they replied. After all they’ve seen, after all they’ve experienced, why are they going fishing? They were just sent by the resurrected Christ out into the world; didn’t they have something better to do? Theologians are divided on the question. Some think the fishing trip is a show of the disciples abandoning Jesus and returning to their old way of life. Others think they were fulfilling Jesus’ command to be sent. I go with a third option, I think they didn’t know quite what to do. I think they’d heard Jesus’ words to them, they’d received the Holy Spirit, but they weren’t really sure what do to with it, so they decided to try something familiar. Last time they’d been fishing, Jesus had shown up and said “follow me,” and that had turned out pretty well so, might as well try it again.

But at first, it didn’t turn out very well. Scripture tells us the disciples fished all night and caught nothing. Just after daybreak things started to get weird. Jesus showed up on the beach but the disciples didn’t know it was Jesus. Jesus called to them, “Children, you have no fish, have you.” Now, think about this for a minute. Remember, the disciples had been out there all night, and nothing. How might you feel after a night of frustrating manual labor to have a total stranger show up, call you a child, and comment on your inability to do the thing you’ve done for your entire professional life? Other translations have different ways of phrasing Jesus’ words, but the way the NRSV puts it always feels a little bit snarky to me. Then Jesus told them, “cast your net on the right side of the boat, and you will find some.” Yes, because that’s totally how fish work.

Except, that day, they did. Suddenly their nets were so full of fish that they couldn’t even bring them in. The disciple whom Jesus loved said, “It is the Lord!” And then Peter displayed what biblical scholar Gail O’Day called his “buffoonish enthusiasm.” Peter was fishing naked, which itself would have been totally normal. What would not have been normal would be to get dressed in order to jump into the sea. Peter was wrestling with two competing desires, his desire to get to Jesus as fast as possible and his desire to greet Jesus with proper respect, that is, clothed. As is so often the case when two competing desires get tangled up in our heads, I’m not sure how successful Peter was at either of them. Seems like some of the respectability of being clothed is lost when said clothes are soaking wet. And he only reached Jesus moments before the others, as we are told the boat really wasn’t very far from shore. But that’s Peter; he’s a jump first, think later, sort of a guy. Once also has to wonder if the events of the crucifixion narrative were still weighing on his mind. If he still remembered that night in the courtyard of the high priest, when he’d stood around a charcoal fire and denied Jesus three times, just as Jesus had predicted he would.

Certainly the writer of John’s Gospel wanted us to remember that night, as the first thing the disciples found when they got to the shore was a charcoal fire. And though there was fish and bread, and the story portrays a comfortable breakfast scene, I wonder what Peter was like during the meal. Was he twitchy and eager, always jumping up to get something, offer more, serve someone, or was he able to relax into the familiarity of a meal shared with friends?

I think Peter fidgeted through the entire meal, because after it was over, Jesus asked Peter a question. “Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?” Peter answered, “Yes Lord; you know that I love you.” And again, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” Again, same answer, “Yes Lord; you know that I love you.” And a third time, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” Scripture tells us Peter was hurt that Jesus asked him three times, “Do you love me,” and responded again, “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.” We might wonder why Jesus would ask the question so many times. Especially if he knew, which he must have, that it would hurt Peter’s feelings. Wouldn’t it be more, I don’t know, Christ-like, of Jesus to forgive and forget? But I don’t think what’s happening was Jesus making Peter pass some sort of test of allegiance again after his failing. I think Jesus knew Peter well enough to know that Peter couldn’t forget. I think Jesus felt how much grief and shame was weighing on Peter’s mind, so Jesus gave Peter an opportunity to repent, to ask forgiveness, to say he was sorry, so that Peter could know that he was truly forgiven. I think this whole scene, Jesus calling him by his birth name, instead of the name Jesus had given him, the thrice-repeated question, the repeated command to follow, all of this was done by Jesus for Peter’s own sake, so that Peter could truly internalize the knowledge that cannot come through words but can only be grasped through feeling, that the past was truly the past, that his sins had truly been forgiven, and in Jesus he was free to start anew.

Following each affirmative response by Peter, Jesus responded “Feed my sheep.” Jesus, ever the teacher, carefully replaced Peter’s shame with purpose. Where Peter once felt aimless, lost and adrift with a task of following that he’d already failed to do once, with Jesus right in front of him, now Jesus spelt out for Peter exactly how to live out his pronouncement of love. And notice it’s not a hard task Jesus set in front of him. Jesus didn’t tell Peter to evangelize the entire world or topple the empire or bring about world peace, he simply told Peter, “Feed my sheep.” It can be so easy to become paralyzed, when the task ahead of us so large, the grace we have received so expansive, the model we are following so holy, that we can end up aimlessly back where we started. It’s clique, I know, but what Jesus showed Peter here is that the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. If Peter wants to truly follow in the footsteps of Jesus, all he has to do is feed Jesus’ sheep.

After this comforting teaching, the passage seems to take a darker turn. When Jesus finished questioning Peter, he said, “When you were younger, you used to fasten your own belt and go wherever you wished. But when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands and someone else will fasten your belt and take you where you do not wish to go.” And in saying this, he predicted Peter’s own persecution and eventual death by martyrdom. Now at first this can seem like a pretty dour ending. Follow me to suffering and death is not exactly the kind of rousing words that get the crowds marching. But here’s the thing. There’s this temptation to think that what happens to us is a result of our faith. That following Jesus leads to rewards, and not following him leads to punishment. And that is just simply not true. Matthew five, forty-four, “for God makes the sun rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous.” Sometimes, no matter how good you are, bad stuff just happens. And sometimes, like in Peter’s case, persecution is actually proof of your faithfulness. Love, grace, forgiveness, resurrection, these are radical actions, and in a world that is comfortable with stasis, these sorts of actions might cause you pain. So Jesus’ last words to Peter are to assure him that when he faces suffering, when he faces persecution, when he’s tired and his feet hurt and it feels like the world has turned against him, it does not mean that Jesus has. Jesus assured Peter that wherever Peter went, and whatever he experienced, he was forgiven, loved and sent by Jesus. Jesus, who loved Peter even to death, now journeyed with Peter throughout the rest of his life. There was nothing Peter had done, nothing Peter could ever do that would separate Peter from that love. Thanks be to God. Amen.

Wednesday, April 6, 2016

Conversation Points for John 21:1-19

Study Format:
1. Read passage aloud. What did you notice in the reading? What words or phrase caught your attention?
2. Read passage aloud a second time. What questions would you ask the text?
3. Read passage aloud a third time. What do you hear God calling you to do or be in response to this text?

Interesting Ideas to Consider:
• The earlier resurrection appearances all took place in Jerusalem in set times. Now the story shifts to the Sea of Tiberius, “after these things.” O’Day posits that this move expands Jesus presence to wherever and whenever the disciples gather.
• The verb “to show oneself” or “to reveal,” (vs. 1, beginning and end), phaneroo, in John’s Gospel is associated with times in which Jesus revealed his identity. For example the wedding at Cana in 2:11 and the healing of the man born blind in 9:3, and the summary of the purpose of Jesus ministry in 1:31 and 17:6.
• John 21 is the first time Nathanael is mentioned since the call narrative in 1:45-50. At that time, Jesus promised that Nathanael would “see greater things” (1:50). His reappearance here may demonstrate the fulfillment of Jesus’ promise.
• Scholars are divided on verse 3, why the disciples went fishing. Some see it as a sign of the disciples’ abandoning Jesus, others an indication of their aimlessness, still others as fulfilling the command to be sent in John 20:21. Why do you think the disciples went fishing? And does the reason effect how you read the story? Whatever you think, there’s a theologian who agrees with you, so feel free to try out several theories.
• Consistent with other resurrection appearances, the disciples did not recognize Jesus until after the nets were full of fish. Though he was standing on the shore, and they’d seen him at least twice by this point, it wasn’t until he revealed himself in filling their nets with fish, that they recognized him.
• Again an interaction between Peter and the beloved disciple. Once again the beloved disciple recognizes Jesus first, once again Peter is over-eager. Peter is naked (it was not uncommon to fish in the nude), then he puts clothes on to jump in the water. Caught between his desire to greet Jesus with proper respect (that is, wearing clothes) and his eagerness to greet him, O’Day refers to this as “Peter’s buffoonish enthusiasm.”
• Why 153 fish? Seems like a rather specific number. The point is obviously, a lot of fish, a miraculous catch of fish. But why the specificity? Theologians, again, are divided. Augustine posits that since 153 is the sum of all of the numbers 1 through 17, it indicates completeness. Some see it as a sign of the totality of the church. Others think the specificity is to confirm the trustworthiness of the memory of the eyewitness. Some think 153 represents every known type of fish to exist at the time. Why do you think they caught 153 fish? Again, whatever you think, there is a good chance a respected theologian agrees with you.
• The verb “to haul,” helko, used in vs. 11 is the same word used to describe the saving effect of Jesus death (6:44 “No one can come to me unless drawn by the Father, 12:32 “when I am lifted up from earth, will draw all people to myself”). The disciples who once drew fish, now join Jesus in the work of drawing people to God, the narrative fulfillment of Jesus’ words to the disciples at the Last Supper, that they would share in his works.
• Jesus cooked for the disciples over a charcoal fire (21:9), before asking Peter three times “Do you love me?” (21:15-17). The last time we saw Peter he was near a charcoal fire, and he denied Jesus three times (18:15-18, 25-27).
• “Feed my sheep.” At the Last Supper, Jesus told the disciples they would share in his work. Here we see what it means to share in the work of Jesus, it means to care for the flock of Jesus.
• At the Last Supper, Jesus told him that Peter could not follow Jesus now (13:36). Now Jesus ends with the phrase, “Follow me.” The time has come when Peter can follow Jesus, not just in feeding sheep, but into true discipleship. Peter can now truly do what he had falsely boasted of before, he can lay down his life in love. That reliable bastion of knowledge, Wikipedia, states that early church tradition says Peter died by martyrdom, possibly by crucifixion, in Rome following the Great Fire of 64 C.E., which Nero wanted to blame on Christians. This death fits both the promise that Peter could now fully follow Jesus to death, as well as the description of Peter’s death in 21:18-19.

Works Sourced:
O’Day, Gail. “The Gospel of John.” The New Interpreter’s Bible Volume IX. Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 1995.

Wikipedia. “Saint Peter.” < https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saint_Peter>. Accessed 4 April 2016.

Monday, April 4, 2016

Locked Doors: A Sermon on John 20:19-31

In my Easter Sunday sermon, I mentioned I’d been involved in some community work with Triangle Trailer Park. I think a lot of you know the history, but just as a very brief overview, for well over a decade there have been on-going problems with Triangle, predatory management practices, unsafe and unsanitary living conditions, threats of violence. Trinity, through Woman’s Co-op and Creating Change, has been involved in trying to support our neighbors in the trailer parks for years. Well this time, it finally seemed like something was going to change. The owners were on the hook for a lot of back taxes, and the park was going to slip into tax foreclosure on Friday. I spent much of Holy Week and last week in meetings with Calhoun County and Emmett Township officials, lawyers, non-profit leaders, and others, trying to create a plan so that the people who live in Triangle would finally get the attention and help they deserved as people. And I have all sorts of thoughts and emotions wrapped up in whether this was a good thing, or just a less bad thing, and I am happy after the service to share more about my thoughts on it, but the point is, it seemed like finally something was going to change. Yes, it was probably going to get a whole lot worse before it got better, but something was going to change. And then Wednesday, we got an email saying nevermind. The back taxes had been paid, at least in part and enough to put off foreclosure until March of 2018. In the meantime, conditions will continue to deteriorate, people will continue to be taken advantage of, and less than a mile from our church, families will continue to suffer.

And I was mad walking out of that meeting on Wednesday. I was mad because how could so many smart, caring, committed people sitting around a table trying to solve a problem to help the most vulnerable among us be totally stonewalled and unable to help. It felt like a huge locked door just fell down in front of us, and no matter what we did, or what key or combination we tried, there was no way to get through that door to our neighbors on the other side. I felt helpless and I felt stuck.

I hate feeling helpless and stuck. I’m a pretty independent person; I don’t like not being able to do what I set out to do. I don’t like feeling trapped and unable to help myself or others. And I don’t normally like putting words in other people’s mouths, but I’ve been your pastor long enough now to know that I am not the only person in the room who hates that emotion. You all are a pretty independent bunch yourselves. This is not a congregation of people who likes to have things handed to them; you all are helpers and doers, you want to be the ones doing the helping. But sometimes we just get stuck. Sometimes we find ourselves in situations where we cannot do it ourselves; we cannot get ourselves out of it. I hate that feeling. And from conversations I’ve had with you all, I know you do to. It stinks to feel vulnerable and alone.

Vulnerable and alone is exactly how the disciples felt in our Gospel text for this morning. “That day” that our Gospel text refers to, “that day” is Easter. This story falls right on the heels of the Easter vigil reading, this is the evening of the day that Jesus rose from the dead. So just a few hours before, Mary had seen Jesus in the garden, and then ran to the disciples and proclaimed, “I have seen the Lord.” And we see right off the bat, that the disciples did not believe her. Or at least, they couldn’t yet process what her words meant. Which, in all fairness to the disciples, the idea that Jesus, whom they all watched be crucified, could be alive again, is some pretty far-fetched news. So the evening of the resurrection found the disciples locked away in a house “for fear of the Jews.”

Before we go any further, I want to unpack this phrase “for fear of the Jews” here. Because remember, Jesus was a Jew, the disciples are all Jewish. Jerusalem at this time was controlled by Rome. And one of the ways Rome exerted authority was to set up puppet governments of members of the community who were loyal to them. So I think who the disciples were afraid of was not your everyday Jewish citizens, which Judaism was the religion of the culture, would have been everyone including themselves. No, the disciples were afraid of the puppet government set up by Rome, Herod and his henchmen, who’s power was contingent on Rome’s continued satisfaction with Herod’s ability to keep peace and keep the taxes flowing back to the Emperor. Herod may have been a “Jewish ruler,” but that was in name only, both his Jewishness and his authority were under the control of Rome. That was who the disciples were afraid of.

And that was who the disciples expected Jesus to set them free from. The disciples were following Jesus because they thought he was the Messiah, which was a political figure in their minds. He was to be the reincarnation of King David, who had ruled over the Jewish Empire in a time of peace and stability. That’s who the disciples were waiting for, who they thought they were following, not a savior in the spiritual sense we have of the word, but a warrior like the stories of old, who would lead a conquering army into battle for Jerusalem, who would destroy all those who stood against God and who would once again raise the Jewish people to political power. If it’s been a while since you’ve read about David, and you like good action-adventure, I recommend First and Second Samuel to you. You’ll get a great sense of why the disciples were so totally confused by everything Jesus did, and it’s just a great story. The disciples constantly misunderstood Jesus because nothing Jesus did ever in any way resembled David. Which, of course, as people who get the whole story, we understand because David was human and Jesus was God. We get that the stakes were higher, that Jesus was doing a bigger thing, but the disciples didn’t have that foresight.

And when Jesus died, all of their dreams came crashing down. They were scared of the Roman government coming after them, they were scared of the persecution they would face, were they identified as followers of this rebel, and they were heart-broken that their hopes and dreams, that everything they’d been working toward, was gone. Jesus had given them hope, he’d given them clout. They had had this brief glimpse of paradise, this brief glimpse of what freedom could be like, and then it was gone. And they were stuck. In the exact same place they’d always been.

But then, as they stood cowered in a room behind locked doors, suddenly Jesus came and stood among them. He didn’t knock down the doors, he didn’t jimmy the lock to get in, he just came and stood among them. And he said, “Peace be with you.” And then, because it seems like they didn’t get it at first, he showed them his hands and his side. And then they rejoiced, and Jesus said it again, “Peace be with you.” Then “he breathed on them and said, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.’” Which, if you remember, is exactly what he’d promised them he would do when he spoke to them when they had dinner together on the night he was betrayed. John fourteen verses twenty-five to twenty-seven, “the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you everything and remind you of all I have said. Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you, do not let your hearts be troubled and do not let them be afraid.” Those things Jesus had promised his disciples on the night before his death, that they would have peace and that the Holy Spirit would be with them, those promises came true for the disciples when Jesus came and stood among them, behind their doors locked from fear and grief. He didn’t break down the doors, he didn’t jimmy the lock to get in, he just came and stood among them and promised them peace, until they could open those doors themselves and walk out and be Jesus people in the world. They didn’t have to let Jesus in, Jesus came to where they were so they could unlock the doors and go out.

That’s the promise that I hold onto, when I feel stuck in situations where I cannot see a way out. Be that situation the traps of institutional poverty like we’ve seen at Triangle, or conflict with a family member, or illness, or whatever feels stuck and locked to you. The promise we have, the promise we can cling to is that Jesus shows up behind those locked doors. It may take time for us to notice, one of the ongoing themes of the resurrection story is no one recognizes Jesus when he first appears. But, he kept showing up, kept revealing himself, until the disciples, until we, recognize resurrection among us. God who loved us so much to go to the cross and die for us, loves us enough to come back to life, and in this new resurrected life, to show up in the places were we are trapped in deaths of fear and isolation. Jesus doesn’t stand outside politely waiting for us to invite him in. Jesus isn’t too busy being resurrected to show up in the places we have hidden away. No, the very first thing Jesus did after his resurrection was show up and set free the very disciples who had ran in fear and left him to die. What we see in this Gospel passage is there is nowhere Jesus cannot go, nowhere Jesus will not go. May the peace of Christ, the peace that passes all understanding, be with you all. Amen.