Doubt

The Second Sunday of Easter Year A

A sermon based on John 20:19-31

In the name of Jesus; Amen.

Thomas wasn’t the only one to doubt.

Friday night Hubby, the kids and I went to Atlantic City. The first church that Hubby served was St Andrew By-the-Sea in Atlantic City, NJ. It had once been a church that was right on the boardwalk set in between casinos, but they had dwindled in membership and needed money. After years of offers from Bally’s casino they finally agreed to sell their building and move to a different location.

When we arrived in Atlantic City the congregation was worshipping in a Moose Lodge. It was really something to have a bar in the make-shift sanctuary and a moose head hanging over the door which always wore a Santa hat at Christmas time.

Right out of seminary in 1998 my husband was called to literally build a church.

Now let me explain something to you about Atlantic City. If you are a casino you can do anything. The parking garage that Bally’s built over the spot that used to house the congregation of St Andrew By-the-Sea was up in no time. We used to drive down to the ocean and park in it for a flat fee of $2 a day. But build a church… that was a little harder of a task.

There were lawyers to deal with because of a special clause in the deed for the land the church was originally built on. Every effort had been made before we got there to find any descendants of the original owner because the church was always to use that land for the purpose of church and if they sold it they had to prove that the land was no longer suitable for having a church there.

Everything had been fine until a very distant relative came forward and sued the church for the money they had received from the sale of the land.

That was finally settled and an architect was hired when the city decided that it wanted the land that the church now owned to sell to McDonalds and threatened eminent domain and offered a trade which would have given the church marsh land to build on top of.

We lived with a full scale model of a church that we hoped and prayed would someday be built. It resided on the bed in our guest room or in the trunk of our car until Hubby negotiated space in an Episcopal church where we could worship and give him and the secretary office space.

In the meantime ministry had to go on and Hubby reminded them daily that a church was not a building, but the community that centered around faith in the risen Christ.

Hubby stayed at St Andrew’s for 4 years before he decided that he was burned out from the pressures of trying to fight what seemed like a battle which would never be won and needed to find another church to serve. When he left the congregation was still worshipping in the Episcopal Church and had formed a long-lasting bond with them. They had an interim for almost 2 years before calling another pastor who is serving them now.

Thomas wasn’t the only one who doubted.

In the upper room, probably the same room where they had eaten their last meal together, 11 men and some women tried to comfort one another behind locked doors. They had known the plan. Jesus was the Messiah, he had even told them that he was going to die and rise from the dead, but in the aftermath of the last few days they doubted that the hopes and dreams they once had would ever come true. Jesus was dead and now they knew his body was gone… disappeared from the grave; they feared that someone had taken it.

Even when Mary Magdalene had stood in front of them and told them that she had seen the Lord, they didn’t believe it. They were, all of them, filled with doubt.

Yesterday we stood in the church building that is now St Andrew-By-the-Sea as it was dedicated to God. It is a beautiful building and was filled by the community of people who had struggled for over 10 years to see it built. We worshipped together and at the end of the service one of the new stained glass windows was dedicated to the pastors who had served the congregation during its time in the wilderness. Hubby was one of them.

As we were driving home we talked about how Hubby had felt affirmed in all the work he had done there those years ago. He knew that he had worked hard and that he had helped build a foundation for ministry that eventually lead to the building of an actual church, but we both knew that he had to see it to believe it.

The disciples needed to see it too. They needed to see that all their work with Jesus had built a foundation for the building of the Church. They were burnt out and bone dry from the experience of Good Friday. They couldn’t move on beyond the locked doors of their room out into the open of the community they were called to serve.

Thomas wasn’t the only one who doubted; we all doubt.

We doubt our abilities, our callings, and even our faith. I used to believe that this story was told so that we knew that we were in good company when we had doubts. If the disciples doubted, then it’s ok if we doubt too. But I have a new notion now, that this story was told because Jesus loves us and wants us to see just how God works even when our hearts are broken, even when we are in the worst of grief, even when we are filled with doubt.

The introduction from the bulletin for this gospel reading says that Thomas’ “unbelief prompts another visit from the Lord.” I think that’s wrong. Jesus didn’t come back because Thomas doubted. Jesus came back because he loved Thomas.

Jesus came back because he loves us.

Yesterday was a gift. Seeing that church building and all the people in it was a gift of love from God. We were able to see with our own eyes and touch with our own hands the fruits of four years of labor. It was affirming; a “yes” to what God can do.

We don’t always get to see that kind of yes and many times we have to believe without seeing, to trust blindly that God does love us and that Jesus did indeed rise from the dead. Sometimes we have to rely solely on the witness of others and we are blessed when we can do that.

But sometimes we do get to see. Sometimes we get to put our hands in the wounds of Christ and touch the resurrection, this seemingly impossible, doubtful thing because Jesus loves us and does not want to leave us in a place of doubt, but new life and affirmation.

Do not doubt, but believe; Jesus came back because he loves us.

Amen.

This is the Day!

The Resurrection of Our Lord Easter Year A

A sermon based on Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24 and Matthew 28:1-10



In the name of Jesus; amen.

This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it!

Today is the day that God made. But then God made all the days. It began when God separated the light from the darkness and called the light day. It happened in the creation of the world before time began when there was nothing but chaos and God’s spirit floated over the waters and said: “Let me make something brand new.”

Like that first day, this is a day that God made. It is a day meant for rejoicing, because on this day, like the very first day, God made something brand new.

And like everything else that God made it was given to us.

This is the day that the Lord has made… for us!

There is no other day in our history as a people of faith more important than this one. You could argue the importance of Christmas. Jesus being born in a manger was a necessary moment. We needed God to become incarnate, to become human and to do it in the exact circumstances in which it happened.

You could argue the importance of the day Jesus was baptized. It was the catalyst to his ministry, the moment that it began. We needed to hear the message of God’s love and acceptance for all people. We needed to know that Jesus went down into the waters just as we go into the waters of baptism and that Jesus went out to share the good news just as we are called to go out and share the good news.

You could argue the importance of Good Friday. Jesus’ death on the cross was his final act of obedience to God in his life, but it was for our sake that he was willing to suffer. And we needed to know just how far God was willing to go for us; that God is willing to even go to the grave for us.

You could argue the importance of the Ascension. When Jesus is taken up into heaven to sit at the right hand of God we know that he is judging over us in love and grace.

You could argue the importance of Pentecost. When the Holy Spirit comes the Church is born, the place where we worship and find community, where we share all our sorrows and joys…

But Easter is the day. It is the day that God made like no other, when creation was begun again in resurrection. Without this day we would not be gathered here singing and shouting Alleluia, because the message would have been lost in a long forgotten cult.

Without Easter the disciples would have dispersed back to their families and their jobs. They would have spent the rest of their days fishing and reminiscing about the days they spent with Jesus.

Without Easter the women would have cried at the tomb, their hands pressed against the stone that sealed away his body. They too would have gone back to their families and their jobs of bearing children and cooking dinners. They would have spent the rest of their days wondering what might have been had it not been for that awful day outside the walls of Jerusalem.

Without Easter, the day that the Lord God made, there would have been no more of this radical message of love and welcome and acceptance and forgiveness as Jesus taught it.

But God made this day, the day when the stone was rolled away from the tomb and an angel proclaimed the good news that Jesus had been raised from the dead. God made this day when mournful women fell to the ground not from grief, but in worship. God made this day when the disciples were sent to Galilee, not to run from those who wanted to kill them but in order to see their friend Jesus raised from the dead.

God made this day for all our days. Because there was the first Easter the incarnation means that God is with us always. Because there was the first Easter our baptisms are not simple baths but rituals of adoption into God’s family. Because there was the first Easter the horrible day that Jesus died is called “good.” Because there was the first Easter Jesus didn’t just go up into heaven, but is seated at the right hand of the Father and will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead and his kingdom will have no end. Because there was the first Easter the Church is a place of community where we find forgiveness and new life.

Because there was the first Easter we know that each day is a day that we live with this incredible message that Jesus gave us. God made Easter for us so that the message of love would continue. Without Easter Jesus’ words of forgiving one another, turning the other cheek, welcoming children, caring for our neighbor, healing the sick, treating those different from us with value, feeding the hungry, visiting those in prison, helping the poor and honoring God would have been lost in the grief of those who followed him.

But there was Easter and God made it for us so that this amazing message of how God loves us does not die, but live.

Because Jesus rose from the dead the message of God’s love lives in each of us. We are the reason that God made this day to rejoice in. We are the reason why Jesus was born and lived and died and lived again.

We are the reason that God made this day. It was for those who first followed Jesus and it is for us and for those who follow him even after we are gone. God made this day so that the word would not be lost; the word alleluia, and the word grace, and the word love.

This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it. Rejoice and be glad because Easter happened; that day happened so that we might experience resurrection not just after our deaths but in the right now of our lives.

The message that God cares for and accepts us and the message that we are to care for others and accept them is a message for every day because it is a resurrection message.

The message that God feeds us and the message that we are to feed others is a message for every day because it is a resurrection message.

The message that God is present with us and that we are to be there for others is a message for every day because it is a resurrection message.

The message that we are loved and that we are to love one another is a message for every day because it is a resurrection message.

The message that “Christ is risen” and that we too will arise is a message for every day because it is a resurrection message.

This is the day that the Lord has made; God made it just for us, a gift for the world, a message of love everlasting for each and every day. Let us rejoice and be glad in it.

Alleluia! Christ is Risen!

Christ is Risen indeed! Alleluia!

Amen!

Pierced

Good Friday Year A.

A sermon based on John 19:31-37

In the name of Jesus; amen.

They weren’t all dead. Some of the others who were crucified with Jesus still struggled to take their final breaths. And because it was a holy time for the Jews the religious leaders asked Pilate that the crucified men might be put out of their misery and taken down before the Sabbath began.

There are a lot of theories about how people were actual crucified: in what parts of the hands and feet the nails were driven, in what position they actually hung, and even what eventually killed them. But, when their legs were broken they died quickly.

There was a test for death. A Roman soldier would take his spear and stick it into the side of the body, sometimes far enough in to pierce the heart. I don’t know in which order this was done. Who came along first; the man with the instrument to bludgeon a man’s legs or the man with the instrument to skewer them in the side?

But they realized that Jesus already seemed dead and rather than expending energy to break his legs they stuck him in the side and at once blood and water came out.

There were at least two others who were crucified with Jesus, but they may not have been the only ones. There are stories that suggest that the roads around Jerusalem were often lined with old gnarled trees with bodies hanging from them. It was a purposeful act on the Roman’s part. It showed their power and their ability to keep Roman order in this occupied Jewish city.

And while Pilate, the Roman governor of the area, was not exactly sympathetic to the people he governed, he was savvy when it came to their religious rituals and how to maintain order during religious times. So, he gave the order for legs to be broken, for sides to be pierced, and dead bodies to be taken down.

If it seems cruel, it was. If it is seems brutal, it was. If is seems violent, it was.

And the last act of cruel, brutal, violence was done to satisfy a religious need for purity because dead bodies were unclean, because dead bodies on a cross were considered an abomination, and because no one wanted that in the middle of their holy and solemn time.

Jesus’ dead body was considered an abomination; something that needed to be taken away and hidden before sundown.

Death seems to be a thing best hidden away and avoided.

But on this day we face it in a unique and different way because this one death changes death. This abomination of cruel, brutal, violent death changes death.
Those gathered there on Golgotha couldn’t see it. For the soldiers it was their business. This was their job. For Jesus’ family it was tragedy. And in the reality of those gathered death was finalized in a gush of blood and water; a sign that now it was indeed finished. Jesus was dead and there was nothing left to do, but what ritual and custom and religion and business demanded.

But this one death changes death. It changes the ritual and the custom and the religion and the business that surrounds that moment, the moment when life is gone and only a body remains that needs to be dealt with.

Because we know the rest of the story we know that the spear is not the final word. Because we know the rest of the story we know that the business of putting away a lifeless body is not the final word.

Because we know the rest of the story we know that even death can not turn a person into an abomination. Because we know the rest of the story we know that even in the cruelest, most brutal and violent deaths God is present in holiness.

This dead, bloody, brutalized body is not the end and the need to remove what is considered unclean, to hide it away is replaced by a belief that even in that moment God was making things right again.

This solemn day of preparation becomes a day we call “good” because it prepares a place for us and for those we love.

Death is not the end; it is not final. There is a resurrection, not just for the man who died that day, but for all of us when our bodies are made whole even after the ravages of death.

This death changed death and because it changed death it also changed life and not just the life after death we believe in, but the life we live now.

Because this day invites us to look upon the one who was pierced we are invited into a life of looking at the one who loves us. The blood and water that flows out of Jesus’ wound flows into us. We have been drawn into the image of his death so that we are also a part of the image of his life.

We know the rest of this story so that we become a part of it. We know the rest of the story so that we can become a part of the healing, and the love, and the welcome, and acceptance that Jesus was in his life. Just as his death prepares us for our death his life prepares us for our own lives, lives meant for wholeness and service to God and to one another.

We know the rest of the story, because it is our story now. It is a story of holiness and goodness despite death. May you be blessed in your part of the story of this day. Amen.

Vulnerable

Maundy Thursday Year A

A sermon based on John 13:1-17, 31b-35

In the name of Jesus; amen.

Coming to a Maundy Thursday service means stepping into a place of vulnerability.

It happens first in confession where we admit our sins and beg forgiveness.

Confession means that we open ourselves up and show God those things we would much rather keep secret. We recognize that we do things we know that God does not want us to do and that we don’t do things that God wants us to do. We proclaim our captivity to sin, not just to God, but to one another. We show ourselves as sinners, vulnerable to God’s wrath and judgment and reliant, not on our own abilities, but on God’s mercy alone.

It happens in the reading and hearing of scripture where we open our ears to God’s word.

To listen leaves us open to hearing things we might not want to hear. To listen means that we must put our own thoughts aside and welcome the words of someone else into our consciousness. And hearing God’s word leaves us particularly vulnerable to thoughts and ideas that, more often than not, are counter to what we live and what the world demands of us.

It happens in the new commandment to love one another.

Tonight we hear a new commandment from Jesus’ own lips: “Love one another.” To love another requires a giving of one’s self to that other. Loving another is risky even when we know that that love will be returned. Hearts can be broken even when love is deep. But when Jesus commands us to love one another, he is not just asking us to give our hearts to those who will love us back. Loving others, as Jesus commands means loving those who might return our love with hatred and rejection. Loving others as Jesus commands means loving those who we would rather not be involved with at all. Loving others leaves us vulnerable to rejection and frustration.

It happens when we take our shoes and socks off to have our feet washed.

Bearing our feet might not sound as challenging as bearing our soul, but having our feet washed tonight means that someone else is going to touch us, feel our calluses, notice our funny looking toes, perhaps even smell what our feet smell like. Just as there are emotional parts of us that we keep covered there are physical parts of us that we keep covered too. Our feet have been housed in shoes and socks for months now to keep them from the cold. Being invited to uncover them and have them touched leaves them and the rest of us vulnerable.

It happens when we are fed Christ’s own body and blood.

We come to the table with empty hands. We express our need in that one simple hand gesture, the same gesture used by beggars on street corners. Our empty hands at the table express our need. Being hungry is a vulnerability, especially if you are relying on someone else to feed you. Will you like what they are giving? Will it satisfy and nourish you? Will it be enough?

It happens when the altar, a place of holiness is stripped away and we hear those words of the Psalm that Jesus spoke from the cross: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

We have expectations of this place and its décor. The things that we place in this place aren’t minor symbols, but significant symbols of our faith. They help us to focus and understand what we are doing here. And they are about to be taken away, stored in another room, away from our sight. And while it is happening we are reminded that even Jesus cried out in the darkness that God had forsaken him. If Jesus was vulnerable to pain and death and the experience of feeling forsaken by God… where does that leave us?

Maundy Thursday is a time of acute vulnerability.

But, in our vulnerability we receive.

We are not left in the despair of our sin… God gives us forgiveness. God’s mercy overcomes the wrath and judgment we should receive. Our state of vulnerability is transformed into a state of grace.

We are not left with words too hard to bear… God gives us good news. God’s word overcomes the harsh words of the world. Our state of vulnerability is transformed into a state of grace.

We are not left unloved and rejected… God gives us love so that we can continue loving even when our hearts are shattered in pieces. God’s love overcomes hatred. Our state of vulnerability is transformed into a state of grace.

We are not left uncovered… God gives us a gentle touch, stoops to serve us and cover us with warmth and refreshment. God’s touch overcomes our harsh realities. Our state of vulnerability is transformed into a state of grace.

We are not left with empty hands… God gives us food and drink. Christ’s body and blood overcomes our hunger and fills us and nourishes us. Our state of vulnerability is transformed into a state of grace.

We are not left stripped bare… God gives us a new vision of our faith and redecorates our hearts with images of holiness that we are a part of. God’s décor overcomes forsakenness and surrounds us not with symbols of our faith, but with the reality of God’s own presence in our lives. Our state of vulnerability is transformed into a state of grace.

This is a night of vulnerability; be open to it and all that it means. God will enter into our vulnerability and fill us will grace, upon grace, upon grace. Amen.

Can these bones live?

The Fifth Sunday in Lent. Year A

A sermon based on Ezekiel 37:1-14 and John 11:1-45.



In the name of Jesus; amen.

Can these bones live?

I have some good news that I have been meaning to share for awhile now, but keep forgetting to do it at appropriate times. A few weeks ago The Silent Prince (aka my son) had a blood test to check his lead levels and we got a phone call saying that his lead level was 10. A lead level of 10 is within the normal range. When he was first diagnosed with lead poisoning more than 2 years ago his lead level was in the high 60’s. At a lead level of 70 you risk brain damage and death. To hear the number 10… well, it’s hard to explain how good that feels.

Now he has another test scheduled for the end of the month and we expect what the doctors call a bounce back number, but it shouldn’t be too much and we are confident that we are finally in the home stretch.

Can these bones live?

Sometimes things happen, really terrible things. I’ve said it before. I will probably say it again. Sometimes bad things happen. And when you are standing smack dab in the middle of those terrible things it’s hard to imagine the day or the moment when there is actual good news. At best you can hope for that moment. At best you can trust that God will take you there at some point. At best you can say, “I’ll look back on this and laugh.” But when you are standing in the middle of it and living it… as a friend of mine once said to me, “You might understand that things will be ok, but you don’t know it yet.”

Can these bones live?

Ezekiel stood in the middle of a valley filled with dried up bones, the remnants of a terrible battle that had happened many years before. And God asks him, “Mortal, can these bones live?” And Ezekiel responds, “O Lord GOD, you know.”

And God, who did know, tells Ezekiel to prophesy to the bones; prophesy to them until they regain their lives and the very spirits within them.

Can these bones live?

Standing in that valley, it must have been a terrible sight; a hard-to-imagine-anything-good kind of sight. And Ezekiel, who understood that God could make something good happen speaks the word of God to the bones. He speaks it until the good does happen and the valley is filled not with death, but a living multitude.

Can these bones live?

When Lazarus becomes ill his sisters send word to Jesus. He has just opened the eyes of a man born blind. He is a miracle worker and a friend of the family. He loves them and they are certain that he will come and make things better. But Lazarus’ condition worsens and still no Jesus. Then Lazarus dies and still no Jesus. They burry him and perform all the rituals for the dead and still no Jesus. Three days go by after his death (and they come from a culture that believes that after three days dead a person’s spirit departs) and still no Jesus.

Can these bones live?

When Jesus arrives it is clear that Martha understands who he is. He is the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world. But she is living in that moment; that terrible moment when hope that one day the pain and sorrow will go away is the best you can do. And Mary understands who he is, kneeling at his feet she tells him, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” But she is living in that moment; that terrible moment when tears are the only reality that seem real.

Can these bones live?

Standing in the middle of that village, it must have been a terrible sight; a hard-to-imagine-anything-good kind of sight. All around were people weeping and mourning. It was a sight that made Jesus weep, but Jesus didn’t just understand God, Jesus knew God. He knew that even smack dab in the middle of the terrible God would do the glorious, the kind of good that is hard to express.

Can these bones live?
And so Jesus prophesied to the bones and the flesh that was beginning to rot. He prophesied to the tear stained faces and the broken hearts. He prophesied to the onlookers, with their hands clamped over their noses to avoid the stench. “Lazarus, come out!”

Can these bones live?

And the man bound in grave wrappings comes out of the tomb alive and needs to be unwrapped and let go.

Can these bones live?

Well, yes. Yes they can. Dried up bones, brittle and bleached by the sun can form sinews and flesh and skin and life can be breathed into them.

Can these bones live?

Well, yes. Yes they can. A man so dead that he has begun to smell can sit up from his grave and be unbound and let go back into life.

Can these bones live?

Sometimes bad things can happen. See, I said I would say it again and I did. And God knows that in the middle of the bad that pain and grief can cloud our knowing that all things will be made well again, but understand that in the end God wants us to know that our bones will live again. God wants us to know that death, no matter how dried up or smelly it may be is not the end. God wants us to know that resurrection is the ultimate answer to the question of sorrow and sadness and horrible hard-to-imagine-anything-good kind of sight.

Can these bones live?

Yes, yes they can and God makes it so for each of us.

Amen.

Born blind and made to see

The Fourth Sunday in Lent Year A

A sermon based on John 9:1-41

In the name of Jesus; amen.

“So when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was to be desired to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate; and she also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate. Then the eyes of both were opened, and they knew that they were naked…” (Genesis 3:6-7a)

And so sin enters into our world with the eating of a simple piece of fruit and with it comes a wide eyed knowledge of nakedness. Sin opened our eyes and ever since we have been trying to cover up and deflect our guilt and as my husband likes to call it… our nakedidity.

As Jesus was walking along he saw a man blind from birth and his disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?”

It wasn’t a dumb or cruel question. People believed that illness, deformity, poverty, and handicap were punishment for sin. If the man was blind it was somebody’s fault. The disciples were asking a theological question about God based upon what they knew to be common belief. They wanted to know if God would punish a man for his parents’ sins or if God would punish a man from birth for sins he hadn’t even had a chance to commit.

Jesus could have easily said that it was his parents, after all Adam and Eve were the father and mother of all humanity. It was their fault that sin entered into our world; their fault that we don’t all live in paradise. Instead, Jesus tells them that the man was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him; not his parents’ fault, not his fault, not Adam and Eve’s fault.

It’s clever; really… that God would choose blindness and sight to reveal the natures of sin and grace. The eyes of Adam and Eve were opened to their own nakedness through sin, but they became closed to seeing God. This man, born blind, never having seen anything in his whole life, has his blindness blamed on sin and then has them opened to the wonder of God’s grace.

The people don’t see it that way though.

Jesus sees the blindness of the man and makes mud with dirt and spit and puts it on his eyes and tells him to wash it away in a pool called, “Sent.” As the mud comes off so does the man’s blindness, but those who see him can’t seem to believe their own eyes and they begin to question:

“Is this the same guy?”
“Who did this?”
“Were you really blind?”
“Who is this man, Jesus?”
“And what does he think he is doing healing on the Sabbath?”

The Sabbath day was the day that God rested after creating the world and because of that God commanded that people should labor for 6 days, but rest on the seventh. No work was allowed on that day and technically speaking Jesus had broken the commandment according to those who had been put in charge of making sure people followed the rules.

But the Sabbath wasn’t just about taking a break from work. It was meant to be a day when one prayed and devoted their time to resting with God. It wasn’t a day off, but a day for God.

It was on God’s day that Jesus made mud and smeared it on the blind man’s eyes and told him to wash in the pool called “Sent.” It was on God’s day that Jesus opened the man’s eyes so that he could see.

It was on God’s day that the man saw God and rested in God’s grace.

Sin opens our eyes and blinds us; a paradox, I know, but it is the nature of sin to make us think we see so clearly while all the while we totally miss seeing God. Jesus didn’t just open the man’s eyes so that he could see the sunset or the colors of the rainbow, but he opened the man’s eyes to see the grace of God.

While the Pharisees only saw sin, Jesus saw an opportunity and in the process a man’s eyes were opened to believe in the wonderful love of God.
We have been given this same love, love that is meant to clear our sight and see God through the person of Jesus Christ. And while Adam and Eve clothed their nakedness with fig leaves to cover up their sin, we have been clothed with new life so that sin does not leave us exposed to death and hell.

We have been shown love, made witnesses to it, and washed in waters that are meant to send us out to witness to that love.

Amen.